“The weather is dodgy up there if you're thinking about going over Waiau Pass tomorrow,” I say to the young lad as we cross paths, he on the way up to Blue Lake Hut, me on the way down. “You do have a personal locator beacon, I hope?”
“Bacon? Oh no, I have other food to eat,” he says in lilting French tones.
“No, I mean do you have a device? To call in an emergency?”
“Gas? Yes, I have gas.”
“No. This device.” I show him the PLB hanging off my bumbag. “To rescue you if you break a leg.”
He looks at me, horrified. “Oh no, I do not need. I am not breaking the leg. I need legs to walk South Island.”
He smiles broadly and skips…