The North Branch trail involves a stream wading, so it doesn't see a lot of traffic. In fact, I'm the only person who did it this day and, looking at the hut book, only one other person wrote that they did it during the past two months. The stream is right at the start. Once my feet are wet and knowing that my bag is safely dry, I don't give another thought to the rain.

There's a special feel about hiking up a beautiful trail, knowing that you're not going to see anyone else on it. The solitude enhances the magical feeling of wilderness. It helps that this trail isn't perfectly marked like Routeburn, but is a real bush walk, hard to follow in spots.

I later hear that someone recently found an entire Moa skeleton in one of the caves along here. I make no such sensational discovery, but I get great vibes on this path. A male paradise shelduck (black head, female has white head) flies in front of me in an attempt to lure me away from the female sitting on a nest. He goes to a great deal of effort, acting wounded and all, but of course he need not have worried.

Even more than on Routeburn, the rocks along the path form a kaleidoscope -- mainly green and purple, but bright red-orange algae grow on many of them, along with various shades of green, white, and grey colored mosses. Mineral streaks of black and white round out the palette.

Both Routeburn and North Branch have varied terrain, even below the alpine -- tussock grasslands, weird leatherwood, old growth beech with alternating moss and fern ground cover, lots of waterfalls and snowy mountains surrounding. The rivers race for awhile, rushing through slot canyons, then laze around wide stony banks. Sometimes I'm in thick forest, sometimes in open river valleys. All is great!

With the pass open, there's no way I can resist going over. I figure I can hike up to The Orchard and back, then finish up the section I missed from Howden when I come up the Greenstone. This would mean a Grand Traverse (Routeburn + Greenstone) plus a Routeburn with the North Branch -- an ambitious plan for the time I'm planning. The weather is certainly with me though, perfect sunny conditions. I race up to the falls and then up the boulder filled wide valley to beautiful Lake Harris, hidden from sight from below. There's plenty of snow, especially on and around Conical Hill, but it isn't too hard to get through.

After the Harris Saddle the trail parallels the Hollyford River far below, as it winds along the side of Ocean Peak. Speargrass, daises and buttercups decorate this alpine section. A massive wall of snowy mountains glower over the opposite side of the river. Then it's down to picturesque Lake MacKenzie, which looks like it was once a typically long narrow, glacier carved alpine lake, but at some point long ago, an avalanche or two dumped into the middle and one end of it. Now these parts are all grown in, leaving the lake with an odd but interesting shape.

A big problem sneaks up on me though. My ankles have gotten progressively more painful. I really needed boots for this trail, especially since my gym shoes are completely shot. The great scenery makes it easy to ignore the pain, but eventually I must turn around, just before the Orchard. Too late though, I'm tortured with pain the whole way back. Shuffling along, even slower, far slower even, than the normally ridiculous DOC times, I'm so obviously hurt that several people ask about me with concern. There's little they can do though and nothing for me but to gut it out. It takes everything I have to get back to flats. I see all my well-laid plans for Greenstone and Milford disappearing before my eyes.

Amazingly, I'm able to walk out the next day, slow and sore to be sure, but not like the cripple I was the day before. After a bit of rest and a lot of tincture of arnica (yes, I've been carrying a bottle of this around and boy do I need it now) I'm walking close to normally. My great desire to walk the Greenstone aids my miracle recovery.