Huts 01 - Barker

I'm feeling a tad nostalgic - and I'm procrastinating big time!!
I'm meant to be commencing a huge task of scanning many of my 'annual lads tramping trips' from the pre-digital era in preparation for a new book. Browsing through some old images I came across a folder labelled 'huts'.
Many of these old images were captured on very basic cameras, some 50+ years ago.
So I thought 'why not' - I'll start a wee series of anecdotal memories based around huts.

One of the earliest images I have of Barker hut at the head of the White River, a tributary of the Waimakariri River at its headwaters. This image was captured on a Halina Viceroy twin lens reflex camera, the first camera I ever owned. A Christmas present from Mum and Dad at the age of 14 - so this photograph would have been circa 1963. Note the shovel tied above the entrance door.

I used to tramp up to Barker hut frequently in a weekend. Jump on the railcar at 2am Saturday and dropped off at the Bealey Bridge ~4.30am, eight hours tramp up the Waimak and the White, early to bed, up well before sparrowfart, a quick bite to eat, and off out to climb the likes of Murchison, Harper, Speight, Wakeman, etc. Back to the hut by noon, then 8 hours tramping back down to Klondyke Corner and the Bealey rail bridge by 8.30pm to catch the railcar back to Christchurch - get off at Hornby, walk home at ~11.15pm, greeted by Mum who was still up anxiously awaiting my safe return, off to bed for a well earned sleep, ready to bike 6 miles to school the next morning.
Today, I'm exhausted just thinking about those great weekends.

On one occasion we arrived at Carrington hut on New Years day in mid afternoon ~1969. Recent entries in the intentions book mentioned parties returning from Barker hut saying they could not find the hut. We took off late afternoon in the direction of Barker figuring that previous parties did not know the location of the hut. About 8pm that night, we staggered up the final slopes to find just the roof of the hut sticking up out of the snow. The roof was crushed and the shovel was nowhere to be found.
We set to work with ice axes and dinner plates to dig our way down to the door and eventually forced our way in. The rafters were broken and touching the floor but we managed to make ourselves vaguely comfortable and get dinner on the primus before nightfall. That winter must have been one hell of a snowfall!!
There is a new hut up there now - new being a relative term - it's been there probably at least 30 years or more now!! Unfortunately I can't locate an image of it right now, although I have visited the new hut several times.
The view down the valley from the bluff just beyond the tarn by the hut is one of those great views you never forget. So good, Austen Deans painted it many moons ago. Now I'd love a copy of that.