Last time I was in NZ, about 6 years ago, I cruised with my friend Andrew to this place called Twin Stream. It’s an amazing glacial valley high above the road to Mt. Cook. The guidebook said a 2 hour hike in from the trailhead and the weatherman said to expect sun. No problem, we figured. So after a day of hitching, we got dropped off at a nearby town. In a rain storm. In flip flops. In board shorts. In t-shirts. Not good. The town was a block long, so we spent the night under a bus shelter and we (don’t tell anyone) raided a Salvation Army drop-box and pulled out the only warm clothes we could find: cotton pajamas. So we swaped out our beach clothes and stood on the side of the road the next day in PJs with our thumbs out. Hours later a car stopped and left us at the trailhead to Twin Stream to start that “two hour approach.” Yeah, right. It took 7 hours. We arrived in this rad, isolated valley with nobody around and set up tent, only to have it almost blown away by gale-force winds while we were inside. Then, at 4 a.m., the mountain parrots descended and ate our pots and pans, and screeched for hours on end. KEEEAAAAA. Andrew lost it, and I awoke to him at dawn throwing everything he could find at all these little troll-like parrots. The keas are massive, by the way, and they’re among the smartest birds around. They’re infamous in New Zealand for eating everything they can find, including cars. They’ll pull the blades off the wipers and the rubber gaskets out of your car windows, so tents stand no chance. Anyway, Andrew and I decided to climb Pulp Friction, some sort of sandbagged 5.10 slab with bolts every 20 feet. That means 40-foot falls. The whole way up a 800-foot climb. Omg. The guy who bolted it was completely mental, since he’d run it out for 15 feet to a great stance and then, instead of putting in a bolt, would climb about a foot above the stance to drill his bolt holes. So that means instead of clipping from a perfect clipping hold, you’d clip above (or in the middle of) a crux, all the while staring between your feet into the gaping alpine abyss and thinking real hard about what would happen if you slipped. The rap down wasn’t any kinder, since the anchors were all mysteriously placed at knee level. I have no idea. Don’t ask. We became so frazzled with the wind and climbing and keas that we bailed, still in our PJs, and headed back to Christchurch where we had a nice beer and chocolate dinner.

So that’s Twin Stream — and that’s where Alicia and I decided go. This time was a bit better, though. First, we had proper clothes. Second, we took a helicopter in, which was cool enough. (I think I want to become a helicopter pilot when my fingers get too arthritic from clicking camera shutters) Third, we took lots of fresh food to keep us nice and strong for our climbing adventures. Fourth, I have 6 extra years of climbing under my belt, so I figured that perhaps the trip wouldn’t be so bad. We arrived in Twin Stream with six people, set up camp, and were immediately stormed by the keas. They landed, hopped around, and tried to take whatever we weren’t looking at. Then we spent about four hours trying to build little rock caves to keep the birds out of our food. An afternoon climb went well, hinting that the routes wouldn’t be so bad. Things were looking up! We cooked a nice dinner with our few million pounds of fresh veggies and went to sleep. The wind started at 2 a.m. and blew the tent flat, so I decided to try to sleep outside, in the shelter of a rock, wondering how Alicia was dealing with eating tent all night long. At 4 a.m., I awoke to the ruffling of feathers and a few little hops on the ground. Then: KEAAAAAAAAA. Louder than you can imagine, by the way. A kea was a few feet from my head, and had somehow eaten my sleeping pad while I was on top of it. I wiggled around, yelled at it, scared it a little and then tried again to fall asleep. KEEEEEEEAAAAAAAA!! Another kea had landed next to my head. I looked over and saw my headlamp about 40 feet away, still shining, and I could just make out one of my shoes in the moonlight, a hundred feet away and a little ratty. The keas had eaten both! I put everything inside my sleeping bag and tried to fall asleep again. KEEAAAAAAAA!! The bird at my feet was calling to its friends throughout the valley, who all responded in turn. Keeaaaa! Keaaaa! Keeaaa! Suddenly, about 20 mountain parrots were in our camp, eating tents, banging on pots, trying to nibble my sleeping pad from beneath me. Everyone was up throwing things at them to scare them away. And then, right when the sun came up, the birds all vanished. The day had started. I did Pulp Friction my second day, which went off without much of a hitch — nowhere near as scary this time — and had another nice meal. And then the wind. And then the keas. And then the rain. And then more wind. And then more keas. And wind. And keas. And keas. And rain. So we all bailed early, taking down the hill about 80 pounds of fresh veggies on our backs.

Here’s Alicia’s take on the hike out:

The hike out was typical Nathan crazy. Of course he had no recollection of it, so I wasn’t fairly warned. We filled our packs with kilos and kilos of gear and fresh veggies, which we had planned to have eaten by this time, and started out. I very quickly realized there was NO trail. We struggled in the scree, ping ponging among the boulders just waiting for the afternoon rain to hit us. With every step I worked to not fall over. Hours in, after grimacing, clenching my fists more than once, and replaying a mantra in my head “I will review every map and route for myself… adventures not epics,” we came to a rope swing above the river. We had to grab an old fiber rope, hang on, and swing from one side of a dropoff to the other. At this point it started to rain. Eventually we found an old sheep path between the most thorny plant I’ve yet to encounter, and bushwacked through it for a few hours. A bit later, after going straight down a ridge, we came to a grass clearing. This is where I lost my footing, fell over into the dense piles of sheep shit, and struggled like a turtle to right myself while admiring the titlted beautiful valley below me. I was punch drunch giddy from that moment on. Only two more hours left!

Anyway, enjoy the photos!