French Ridge Hut Hike

What’s a couple to do for the holidays, a time when most people gather with their families, when they’re on the opposite side of the world from most everyone they know? Obviously they should get together with a couple friends who are in the same boat and go for a massive Christmas day hike.

Elliott and I have spent the last five years hundreds (and thousands) of miles away from our families. Unfortunately, it’s something we’ve gotten used to dealing with. Now that we’re spending our second holiday season in hot, summery weather, we’ve occupied ourselves with some less-than-traditional holiday activities. Last year we spent the day in Chiang Mai, Thailand with a fun couple from Canada, enjoying a spicy Thai dinner before a heated evening of Muay Thai fights. There were bets, drinks, and all the Thai boxing dramas.

This year we found ourselves with an amazing Latvian couple, who I’ve been working with for the last several months and we’ve all become fast friends. With a little juggling to get the same days off work, the four of us were quickly on our way to an impromptu overnight trip into the backcountry.

The backcountry here in New Zealand is a little different from what we’re used to in the States. From our experience at home, a backcountry campsite generally entails pitching a tent a hundred yards away from the bear poles and fire pit, maybe having a scary metal latrine, and having at most another few people to share that particular square mile with. Down here, however, we’ve got the use of backcountry and alpine huts, run primarily by the DOC and NZ Alpine Club. These huts sometimes have heat, but usually also running water, power, kitchen areas, and long drops, in addition to comfy mattresses to rest up on. Talk about luxury!

Anyhow, our friend Roberts suggested we take our two days of freedom and head up to the French Ridge Hut in Mount Aspiring National Park. This hut tends to be used by mountaineers summiting Mount Aspiring itself, so we found ourselves in the company of some true badasses and all their fancy technical gear. Meanwhile we had scraped together what small amount of backpacking goodies we have here and set off for two very long day hikes.

We hit the road from Queenstown to Wanaka nice and early on Christmas Eve morning, and after roughly two hours reached the Raspberry Flats carpark. Fast forward about three beautiful hours, and we’re over 13 kilometers deep into the National Park. We’ve followed a ridiculously blue river through to Pearl Flat, where we eventually cross the river and begin our final ascent. Or the whole ascent. The matter-of-fact green and yellow DOC sign points out that we’ve got just three kilometers to go, yet it will take us an astonishing three hours to reach the hut. You read that right. The track gains over 900 meters of elevation in about 2 kilometers. We reapplied sunscreen, crammed down a few snacks and water then hit the trail. Wait a minute, what trail? We spent the next three hours scrambling legitimately straight up walls of tree roots, rocks, and mud. Eventually we neared the hut. Roberts, with his superhuman strength and determination, sped ahead of Liene, Elliott and myself while we took another snack break, dropped his bag at the hut, and came back to help carry our bags the rest of the way. I’m not normally one to accept help carrying my pack, but when he’s already run back and forth to the hut twice with other bags and has one on his back and is still asking to carry mine up, I’ll concede. A couple miserable minutes later, I laid eyes on the most photogenic outhouse known to man. I didn’t know there could be such a thing!

The red hut stood majestically in front of us. Finally. We worked so hard for this. We sorted our sleeping arrangements in the 20-bunk hut, refilled our water, and tore off the old boots. After getting a bit settled and eating more, we set off to wander around our new home for the night. The Latvians are scampering around the boulders and finding every steep cliff edge for us to stand on. Elliott’s icing his torn-up knee with a zip top bag I filled with snow for him. I’m stalking the local kea with my camera. Could there be a better way to spend the evening?

“You have to come see this” I hear from the distance. We got together and wandered further uphill through the tarns and snow fields. After a few more scrambles, we’re clinging to the edge of a cliff, right on a sheer edge, staring off at a glacier and countless waterfalls.

We had the most incredible view for sunset - mountains in every direction. These mountains just shoot up out of the plains, straight up like walls protecting the river below. It’s incredible to look back at the path we started on from so far above.

We had a great night of sleep, woke up the next morning to a tasty breakfast, packed our bags and began our descent. What do you know - three hours of scrambling down those same rocks and tree roots. If you’ve ever hiked with me, you know just how coordinated I am and how hilarious this endeavor was. After what felt like a hundred hours in the beating sun, we were back at the carpark and jumping in the river for a much needed cool-down.

Hike: French Ridge Hut Track
Distance: 17 km / 10.56 miles one way
Elevation Gain/Loss: over 1100 meters / 3,625 feet
Time: hiked in under 7 hours
Hut fees: $25 per person per night