The approach to Queenstown airport is said to be the most scenic in the world, but this particular flight was especially jaw-dropping. It had snowed heavily the day before and the contrast between blue sky and white snow in all but the lowest valleys was incredible. Nobody groaned when the pilot announced an extra loop was required before landing.

My American friends were elated. “Did you see those mountains on the way in? There are so many more! And so much snow!” one exclaimed.

They had arrived to tramp with me, but the snow and weather conditions meant we needed to pivot from our plan A, Rees–Dart, to plan B, Greenstone–Caples. I was a bit gutted as the Rees–Dart had been high on my to-do list for a long time.

I was still regretting the plan change by day two  of the tramp; so much so I almost missed the fact that my friends were having the time of their lives. 

It got me thinking about how good we have it in New Zealand.   

On day one the low snow and bands of mist along the tops made everything dramatic. On day two when the sun came out, the views from McKellar Saddle were postcard-perfect. In the beech forest, friendly visits from pīwakawaka and toutouwai provided humorous entertainment. Yes, there are possibly better views elsewhere, but what could be better than the views in front of us?

We built fires in the evenings, read the hut books and enjoyed the stars. My visitors marvelled at New Zealand’s unique hut system and investigated every feature of our accommodation: the bunkroom layout, the mattresses, the woodshed, the long-drop. They were surprised to see coal provided, and had not used it before.

“Do you just put it on the fire?” they asked.

I suggested they imagine how a steam train operated and pretend that the stove was an engine’s firebox, which led to five nights of locomotive noises every time fuel was added to the fire. Good thing we had the huts to ourselves most nights.

On the second morning they were peering in the windows of the ranger’s quarters at Greenstone Hut when a helicopter came roaring up the valley. DOC staff landed, dropped off supplies and were off without so much as a glance at my friends, who stood, mouths agape.

“That. Was. Wild!” they said, after the roar subsided. Helicopters are common here. I had not considered that seeing one in action would be a novelty.   

My friends enjoyed talking with other trampers. At Caples Hut some hunters gave us a generous piece of backstrap and entertained us with a few good yarns. This social aspect is a unique by-product of the hut system and can also be taken for granted.

Although we didn’t go with plan A, our trip was a perfect reminder that, in New Zealand, even a plan B can top most tramps elsewhere in the world. 

When we completed the Greenstone–Caples I presented the choice: head back to Queenstown for two days of creature comforts, or spend more time in huts exploring the Routeburn Track. Their response was unequivocal. “More huts!”