Mueller Hut: a Hike in Four Acts

For our 10-day adventure, we created a hike-heavy itinerary sure to keep us busy. Admittedly I knew this, but somehow I also did not know this. It’s probably more accurate to say that I initially agreed to a handful of hikes, but didn’t realize exactly what I was signing up for.

To mentally and physically prepare, I did a little math for our planned hikes by calculating their distances and elevation grades to get a better feel for what I was getting into. Spoiler alert, I’m extremely bad a math.

Prior to our trip, Disa (one of my travel companions) and I spent some true quality time with our gym’s StairMaster, a piece of machinery I’ve since developed a serious love-hate relationship with. On one such trip to the gym, I casually mentioned that we were doing quite a few hikes in New Zealand and showed her the list of my calculations. She read it for a few moments before delivering a puzzled look. To her, the numbers seemed too low and she laughed saying, “did you calculate the elevation gain based on the roundtrip miles, or just to the top?”

My heart immediately sunk. I had mistakenly calculated the elevation gain for the upward and downward portions of the hikes, when elevation GAIN - as the word “gain” suggests - refers only to UPWARD motion. Rookie mistake. Alas, I needed to double the elevation gain per mile on each hike that I already considered tough. See, this is why I don’t like math, it can lead to some serious heartbreak.

When I re-calculated Mueller Hut Trail, I was wide-eyed; it was 1,150 foot elevation gain per mile, more than triple what I like to do on any given day, and double what I dub as more “strenuous” on my personal sliding scale of hikes. “We’ll be fine,” Disa said. She’s right, of course, it’s not all that bad in the grand scheme of hikes, but I kindly reminded her that we were planning on doing 5 of them. In 7 days. “We’ll be fine,” she said again, laughing.

ABOUT MUELLER HUT

Mueller Hut, in Aoraki Mount Cook National Park, is perched at roughly 6,000 ft. above sea level. The trail was originally opened in 2003 by Sir Edmund Hillary, the first person to successfully summit Mt. Everest. He didn’t exactly design this trail as a walk in the park, which isn’t too shocking coming from the first guy to climb the tallest mountain in the world. Mr. Hillary opted for a challenging route through various alpine landscapes that are equal parts brutal and beautiful. While it can be done as a day hike, staying overnight in the hut is the ultimate reward for all the sweat (which is a lot) that it takes to get there.

Hiking: What to Expect

If there is one thing I learned throughout my short time in New Zealand, it’s that it is a compact country filled to the brim with the most beautiful mountains – untouched, glorious specimens, begging to be climbed… and New Zealand knows this. They know it and they beckon you to explore, but they have no intention of making it easy. Mueller Hut is no exception.

Now, if numbers aren’t your strong suit (and I sincerely sympathize with you if they’re not), then allow me to break this trail down for you in a more digest-able way. To do this, I need you to humor me a moment and picture yourself on a StairMaster. Now imagine being on that godforsaken piece of equipment for 4 hours straight under the baking sun, with a 15 pound pack on, from 12pm-4pm in the afternoon. Congrats, you just metaphorically climbed Mueller Hut!

The trail is so steep that it has 1,500 stairs in one section alone, which is the equivalent of an 80 story building. For perspective, that is a few stories more than the Columbia Tower, the tallest building in Seattle and the Pacific Northwest, which is 76 stories high. Then, once you’ve successfully climbed those 80 stories, you have a one-mile uphill scramble across loose gravel and boulder fields. And once you crest the ridge, you’re still not there. My point being, Mueller Hut is a doozy. Not an impossible doozy, but a challenging and uncomfortable one, to be sure.

WE’RE ON OUR WAY!

On the morning of our hike, we woke to warm sunshine spilling into our van. We excitedly drove from White Horse Hill Campground to the park’s visitor center to check-in and pick up our pre-booked overnight tickets, but unfortunately when we arrived we learned that the weather had zero concern for our interests and absolutely no issue in meddling with our plans.

While we knew conditions were going to be less than ideal, we weren’t expecting park staff to heavily dissuade hikers from staying overnight due to predictions of extremely adverse weather. They were offering full refunds and suggesting that we make it a day hike instead. You can imagine that we were a bit disappointed to have traveled 36 hours across the world to complete this challenging hike, the first of our trip, and not have the opportunity to enjoy the full experience.

We looked over the latest weather information the staff provided and after discussing our options we decided that the forecast didn’t look that terrible. While 30-50 mph winds were expected the next morning (not great), they predicted only 1 cm to 3.25 inches of rain (not horrible). Being from Seattle and having gone on a drenched-out hike or two, we opted to keep our tickets and decide our next step when we reached the hut at the top.

It wasn’t Plan A but the weather is not known for its forgiveness, and all we can do is make the best of it while bending to its mercy. The rangers agreed that our Plan B was a good decision and that we could still receive a refund if we came down that day, so with that we set off as soon as possible to beat the evening rain.

act I: DEATH STAIRS

It’s not ideal to hike in the afternoon heat but when you’re kindly warned about an upcoming storm that may trap you on a mountain in the dark, you dare not dilly-dally. And dilly-dally we did not, which is how we found ourselves standing at the trailhead, reading a sign saying “Mueller Hut – 3.5 hours” at 12:30 in the afternoon beneath the blazing sun with our overnight gear strapped to our backs - just in case.

As you may have gathered, this trail does not mess around. In fact, 95% of the time it is relentless and grueling. The other 5% accounts for the first half-mile, which is relatively flat along packed-down gravel, lulling you into a false sense of hope that maybe - just maybe - the trail won’t be that bad. Then the first sight of stairs abruptly jolts you back to reality and the trail gets right down to business.

The Stairs. Those terrible, never-ending, preposterous pieces of wood slapped together to mock my very existence.

For the next mile, we huffed up 10 steps at a time, followed by a break to catch our breath, followed by 10 more steps and another break filled with huffing and puffing. We set mini goals to make it more bearable: “we will take a break at that big rock!” or “at that funny looking bush up there we will drink more water!” Every dozen stairs or so, we internally (or in my case, externally) cursed the stair’s upward existence and wondered how there could possible be more, and perhaps more importantly, who on Earth was responsible for carrying the wood up to build them.

Onward and upward we hiked, with shaking legs and sweat dripping, until we completed all 1,500 steps (yes, Michaela, my other travel companion, kept herself busy by counting them). Luckily the views were beautiful 100% of the time.

act II: ROCKY MADNESS

After finally (finally!) finishing the stair section, which I was confident would never end, we made it to the unofficial “lunch spot.” At this point, hikers gather for a break and drink in the views before tackling the next mile. While here, we briefly chatted with a few Germans who were on their way down; they told us that they had also planned on staying overnight but were turned back by the warden of the hut who closed it down due to worsening weather conditions. At that point we resigned to our fate and accepted Plan C, which was that it would only be a day hike after all.

Determined to reach the top before the storm, we parted ways with the Germans and started the next section: Mile of Gravel Doom and Dread. The following hour was an uphill battle on loose rock chips and scrambles across large boulders. To make sure hikers are on the right track, there are orange poles placed every 200 meters (thank you New Zealand rangers for those, by the way), and it felt like a little scavenger hunt to find the next pole (and let’s be honest, the next break). The top of the ridge is visible during this section, and seeing tiny specks walking about on the ridge line was both daunting and encouraging; We could see the goal, but it felt so far away.

act III: UP AND OVER

Upon reaching the top of the ridge, we found ourselves amidst a rock-filled landscape with towering mountains to the side of us, as if stepping into a mildly happier, somewhat sunnier version of Mordor. Unlike Mordor, these mountains were pocketed with glaciers and every now and then we would hear massive thundering sounds in the distance followed by calving glaciers spilling down the mountainside.

From this point, we had only a half-mile to go before the hut yet it couldn’t have felt farther away. While there was next to no elevation gain remaining, the boulder field was tricky, enhanced by the baking sun and fierce winds. When we finally saw the red hut in the distance, bright like a beacon amongst the beige abyss of rocks, it felt like seeing an oasis for the very first time.

To our surprise, we found it completely void of people; apparently even the warden was keen to get off the mountain before the storm. In the kitchen, an updated weather report was written on a whiteboard and it indicated that instead of 3 inches of rain, they now expected 15 inches, and instead of 30-50 mph winds, there would be 120 mph gales billowing through the mountains. That sure escalated quickly.

We soaked in the view of Mount Cook for about an hour with the sun deceptively keeping us company. Soon the massive storm cloud begin to make it’s way over from the west and when we felt a small sprinkle of rain we knew it was time to go. We packed up and said goodbye to a man and his son who had just made it to the summit and were determined to stay overnight. (10/10 do not recommend, gentlemen…) We personally had zero intention of coming down the next morning in mud flows and winds that would fly us off the mountain and we hope that they came to that same conclusion.

act iV: and BACK DOWN

Perhaps the only equally annoying thing about going up 1,500 stairs and climbing a mile through loose gravel is the inevitable necessity of going back down them. And going down a mountain is easily my least favorite part of any hike.

As we crossed the boulder field back to the ridge line we could feel the storm come to life. Luckily, our pace was just beating the rain, though the wind only continued to grow stronger. As soon as we crossed the ridge, we were shielded from the wind and I was shocked at how the weather changed so drastically in such a short distance.

We quickly befriended our new favorite species of bird, the kea, which are known as the “clowns of New Zealand” (and for good reason). They bee-bop around the rocks attempting to eat metal or plastic objects, which clearly does not work, and then they screech at each other and say hi to you. “Screech” may not be the right word as it’s more of an endearing sound; sometimes pitiful, often ridiculous and entirely adorable.

Throughout the trek down, we could see the campground far below us which gave us a visual goal for the next two hours. We could see our ridiculously bright green van, too. Once surrounded by cars, she now sat alone with only a handful of others sprinkled around for company. It looked like most visitors opted to clear out of the area.

fin

While we made it back to the van before dark, our knees were very displeased (and days later they’d still not forgiven us). After hot soup and an equally toasty shower, we curled under our blankets and were lulled to sleep by the howling of the wind and the rain beating on the roof. During the night, the wind was so strong that it continuously shook our van, which left me wondering what the weather at the hut must be like if it was this strong in the valley.

Despite the weather and all my groaning about the stairs, it was a spectacular hike. Climbing up the mountainside without tree coverage allowed for constant views of the lakes, the vast valley and Mount Cook, which dominated the skyline. It also allowed for sunburns, I may add. While I have no intention of doing this hike again, for those of you wanting to do Mueller Hut yourself, I can’t recommend it enough.