Winter. Frost. Snow. Ghosts.
Well, one anyway: Ghost Lake, which lies below, frozen and glistening, as we wait at Ghost Lake Hut for the sun to appear. We had left the warmth of the hut early, set up cameras and watched the sun slink – seemingly reluctantly – over the eastern horizon. Numb fingers on cold cameras and tripods, but it was worth it. The dawn was sublime: sheer grand spectacle almost beating the evening before when, at dusk, we had watched a fantastically large, orange super moon pop above the Southern Alps.
To the southeast the great arc of the northern Kā Tiritiri o te Moana stretched to the southern horizon. Inversion cloud, snaking around spurs and copses of beech trees, clung like small glaciers in hollows and valleys.
Ten of us were tramping the Old Ghost Road, and had the track almost to ourselves. Despite having decades of tramping experience between us, none of us had walked the route before.
The 85km Old Ghost Road is onemountain neinei, granite tors, earthquake lakes and curious transitions from granite to limestone are all prominent features.
