Search results by user ID 20692

Crossing the Rimutakas: Late 2012

DominicOberhumer — Tue, 02 Sep 2014 18:20:53 GMT

Ivan wanted something with lots of rivers. I wanted something that would take a while. Achim was happy to oblige and wanted to throw some bush-bashing into the mix. Sergey just wanted to take some nice pictures.

After catching a bus to Wainuiomata there was a brief time spent on the track heading up Nikau Creek. Roughly twenty minutes was spent on the track before a turn uphill was taken. A proper DoC walking track would not be encountered again until the next day. The uphill was reasonably short-lived though rather intense and at a pace that was not really sustainable. We walked along a bushy ridgeline and through the catchment area for a water treatment plant which you’re not really supposed to do according to someone.

Strolling down into a valley there was the loud roar of a chainsaw the owner of which might not be pleased about a group of trampers walking through what was technically a restricted area. Walking into the valley was fine as there was plenty of bush cover and little chance of being spotted but at the bottom there was a bridge which was part of the water works that we had to cross. It was decided that we should just cross the bridge briskly and nonchalantly. If someone yelled out at us that we shouldn’t be there we’d just walk faster until we couldn’t hear them shouting anymore. That went off without a hitch and we found a tunnel which we could use as a short cut to the river that we were going to spend most of that day walking up: the Orongorongo and one of its tributaries. The tunnel was long but not quite long enough to need a headtorch. After a small dam in the river (the last sign of civilisation) we stopped for half an hour to have lunch in the sun; we walked from 9am to 9pm that day and that half hour for lunch was the only time we weren’t moving.

Walking up the Orongorongo was pretty fun, never getting very deep but wet boots were inevitable. At some point it started to drizzle but it was still quite warm so it didn’t really matter. After a few hours we reached the tributary we were going to take up to Waiorongomai saddle. Bush bashing was back on the menu heading towards the saddle, interspersed with walking in the stream from time to time, still fairly easy going. When we got up to the saddle things got a bit rougher.

There was mud, lots of it, knee deep in places and filled with supple-jack and the odd piece of bush-lawyer here and there, it was not easy going. After some time trudging and some discussion as to where exactly we were and how best to avoid cliffs and canyons that were in the generally vicinity it started to rain. Within five minutes of the rain it started to hail and then soon after there was thunder and lightning. I will never forget the brief conversational exchange that occurred in response to the new walking and weather conditions. Sergey turned to us, knee deep in mud, wrapped in supple jack, being pelted with hail stones and having to compete with thunder to be heard and said “this is awful, what are we doing here? Why would anyone want to do this?” Whether it was Achim or Ivan who responded I can’t recall but the reply that came out was delivered perfectly “Well, you wanted to see the real New Zealand” and that was that.

We found our way to the other side of the saddle and realised we weren’t we wanted to be and would have a steeper down climb than we had hoped into a valley and would have to spend more time in the stream at the bottom as well. After part falling, part climbing and part sliding down to the river it had turned dark and head torches had to come out. Walking over the saddle had been bad (it was slow, frustrating, a little cold and just a little bit filthy) but now, now it got miserable, or I thought so at least. It was that really impressive kind of miserable as well where you can really sink your teeth into or drape it over yourself like a cold, wet blanket and really just fester and grumble in it. The sort of misery that leads you to denounce tramping as a pass time and decide that this is your last one, you’ve had enough, it’s not worth it. Worse still is the knowledge that this is entirely your own fault, you didn’t have to come, you didn’t have to be here and this was your choice. With that comes the thought that the only way to get out of this god-awful situation is to keep walking, to grit your teeth and push through it. The river was filled with slime filled rocks, the banks covered in supple jack, bush lawyer and now a healthy dose of ongaonga for good measure. I couldn’t see anything in the river and kept falling over. So I was cold from the air, wet and cold from the river, bruised from falling onto rocks constantly, I was tired and hungry, sore and scratched up and this went on for several hours. You either fell over in the river or you got stuck on the bush along the banks. At some point since this experience I realised that I’m addicted to that sort of thing.

We got to Waiorongomai Hut, had dinner and crashed. The next day Ivan, Achim and I went up another stream to try and find a waterfall. It was large enough that from no vantage point could we see all of it in one go. After that we splashed out through the Waiorongomai River towards western lake road. This was a really easy day, the track was good, the river was nice, the sun was shining, everything was just kind of fantastic. When we got to the road we hitch hiked back to Featherston; Achim and I got picked up by a couple that had just come from a wedding rehearsal. Smelling very trampy and still being quite muddy I spent that car ride sitting next to a pristine bridesmaids dress, it was nerve racking. From Featherston we caught a train back to Wellington and that night I slept amazingly well and ate a lot of peanut butter.

With: Ivan Andrews, Dominic Oberhumer, Achim Gaedke and Sergey Maximov

Meeting the Kaweka Tops: Easter 2012

DominicOberhumer — Tue, 02 Sep 2014 16:58:28 GMT

Most trips into the Kawekas involve clear skies, good views, lovely hot pools and relaxing with a choice beverage or five. This was nothing like that at all.

This was the third club trip I’d been on, the first was Freshers which apparently didn’t really count and the second was an overly ambitious trip to Maungahuka and that didn’t work out so well. The plan this time around seemed flawless in its simplicity; there were hot pools and we were going to them, marvellous. The car ride was long but I spent it asleep so can’t really complain there.

Trouble started when we reached a river we were supposed to cross in the cars. I later learned that there was a metal pole in that river: bottom half painted white, top half painted red with the implication that one should not attempt to cross if the water reached the red. We could not see said pole on this particular day so plans had to change. We agreed to head to another road end from where we could head out along the tops and ridgelines of the Kawekas and there was a hut five minutes from the road we could stay in that night. Things still sounded pretty good, we just accepted that we wouldn’t need our togs after all and tried to put out from our minds the reason for the rivers being so high.

We didn’t sleep in the hut (Makahu Saddle Hut) but for a cause still unclear to me decided to set up flies to sleep under. There were nine of us but we had large flies and tarps so we figured it’d be fine. We cooked up a meal and got into our sleeping bags at 6pm, we didn’t get out of them till 8am the next day.

It had been wet throughout the night, it hadn’t been raining or anything, it was just wet, really wet. We packed up, had breakfast and started walking, the weather decided to remain wet. We strolled up to Kaweka J and in the process experienced several types of the “are we there yet?” question: first joking then genuine then desperate. When we reached the top there was nothing to see and it had started to rain in that most fantastic of directions: horizontally. The next four of five hours were a complete blur. There was rain, there were rocks underfoot, there was rain, there was a complete lack of views and there was rain. We may have stopped to eat at some point and we may have talked a little but mostly we just put our heads down and walked. For not the first and certainly not the last time on a tramping trip I thought to myself “Am I actually enjoying this? Is this supposed to be fun? Are the people around me having fun? They don’t look like they are. Is this perhaps a little dangerous too?”

I learnt two things that day 1) Good friends are made in bad conditions. 2) Calling anything waterproof is laughably arrogant… and just plain incorrect.

We finally ended up scrabbling down a rocky slope towards Ballard Hut, sure it was a four bunk hut and there were nine of us but we were bedraggled and it had a roof and better yet a fire. I arrived at the hut first and put my head through the door. Two hunters stared back at me, clearly bewildered that anyone would have the audacity to walk here and join them in this weather. “Uhm, would you guys mind if another nine people were to come in here?” I asked trying to sound as unimposing as a person can under such circumstances. The bewildered stares were now accompanied by hanging jaws as a response. “Well ahh, six of them are girls if that, um makes it any better” I had no idea what I was meant to say but felt that somehow that fact might help things along. One of hunters retained his blank stare whilst the other gave me a more interesting look. It was a look that suggested that not only did he believe that I was pulling his leg but that at this point he thought the entire universe was taking the piss. “Ok, well, we’ll just let ourselves in then” I said quietly as I realised there was a queue forming behind me outside the hut. So in we walked and that was that.

We hung up or wet clothing, went about making dinner and then sat around the hut drinking and chatting and laughing until we went to sleep. Two of our group slept outside in a tent, some of us double bunked and some of us slept on the floor.

The next day was miserable in the morning but much better from just before midday onwards, we still got no views but we were lower down and everything was just far more pleasant. There were river crossings and valleys to walk into and out of and it was all just quite nice. Someone assumed that I knew how to navigate by map so I ended up doing a bit of that though I’ve no idea when or where I learnt to do so. We got back to the car park in reasonable time and though we were a little tired everyone seemed pretty pleased with the experience. It was a good trip.

With: Pia, Dana, Sacha, Joe, Ashley, Mae, Dom, Anita and Anna.

That funny type of fun...

DominicOberhumer — Thu, 17 Apr 2014 22:40:26 GMT

Describing this trip, I might just start off with how we actually started our trip: Discussing the 3 types of fun at the Hunter’s car park: Firstly, fun you have while doing something, then the kind of fun you have after doing things which might have been not that much fun while doing them, which is type 2, and last but not least type 3, which is fun while doing something that is not as funny afterwards (e.g. things you do when you’re drunk). Our trip did indeed consist of fun type 1 at some points, for example at the estimated 50 times we “finally” found the right trail, another 20 moments we thought we knew the direction and will be out of the bush in an hour or two and especially that moment when you get out of the bush after 20 hours at 8 AM in the morning. As you can guess, there might have also been a few things which potentially tend to be more a type 2 kind of fun… I mean, afterwards it IS really funny that we got completely lost in a navigation trip. It is absolutely funny that we were thinking we are on a really relaxed stroll at day 2, telling type 2 fun stories about getting lost at tramps in the hut the night before. And it is also funny how our thoughts and sorrows at the beginning of the trip changed from “my shoes are wet”, “hopefully there’s not again a giant slug on the tree I want to hold on to”, “I have a bit of mud on my jacket”, “I hope that not another Giant Weta will jump into my neck” or “hopefully we don’t have to walk for more than half an hour in the dark” to things like “maybe the sun is rising soon so we don’t have to worry about running out of head-torch batteries anymore”, “it would be good if we had enough food to keep everybody energized at all times”, “I really want to make it out of that bush someday” or “hopefully I will make it down that almost 90° slope with my backpack” at the end of the trip. Well, what basically happened is that... I have no idea. After having had a really relaxed Saturday including a 2 hour drive to Otaki Forks, an hour at Pak’n Save, learning how to cross rivers and how to make outdoor-knots, learning-by-seeing how to Pack-float (thanks to Dom at this point), eating Nachos, drinking mannerly (no irony at this point), and a lot of sitting and talking, we started our Sunday around 10:30 AM with a really healthy and delicious chocolate-marshmallow-sweetcondensedmilk-peanutbutter-cadburrycreameggs-porridge, before making it onto the peak of any mountain in our wet shoes. Until there the type 1 fun definitely predominated. We had a stunning view over the Tararua mountains. And also the first part of strolling down the ridge off the beaten track was really enjoyable. Then it started raining. And it got dark. Which was not too bad until we noticed how difficult it could be and that it may possibly take us a bit longer to find a way out of that slightly intimidating forest. But even then it felt really adventurous going up and down steep, well, not paths, but, you know… things between, above, under and next to still living vertical or not so still living, horizontal trees, increasing tension through some bushlawyers, leatherwood and slippery mud. Another good thing was that time passed really quickly between numerous breaks used for finding bearings, keeping hydrated and ingesting as many calories as possible. Of course, not being wet and cold all over could have been nice, but, honestly, that would have been really boring. After all I feel like I do have a tiny bit more bush-experience than I had before the trip, and it was also really interesting to see how capable and enduring our human body acts in such situations. And in the end, returning to your car after a 21 hour over-night tramp, finding that it doesn’t start because of an empty battery is indeed a bit of type 1 fun as well.

Nelson Lakes 2013 M Group Report by Kaitlin Maddever

DominicOberhumer — Thu, 12 Sep 2013 02:28:11 GMT

We all met up the ferry terminal at more or less the right time, barring a forgotten jacket and a late bus. The ferry trip over was fun, we got to know the three crazies we'd be spending the next week with and wrestled with Bluebridge's free wifi. When we pulled into Picton we drove off and made for Blenheim (more or less) to go to Pak n Save.
We started the tramp by working out what we'd be eating. Most important. We found the wonderful potato flakes, picked up the hyperessential wooden spoon (serious) before loading back into the car and heading to the Mount Robert carpark, with maybe a stop to look at a lake and some ducks.
At the carpark we sorted the group gear and Achim and James did a funny car juggle, leaving one car at the carpark and the other in a technically safer place. The quick (read: mad) group set off without their last member and our medium group awaited the drivers' return.
When they did Achim chased after his group while we headed up the beautiful Paddy's track to Bushline hut.
The hut already had three occupants. We had some fantastic mashed potato soup courtesy of Matt and stayed there for a single night. In the morning we farewelled the ski tourers and took off for Angelus, passing a couple of their friends en route. "To the summit, never mind the blood" was what they advised us.
Given that this was a Sunday, there were a few people around. We heard that the other group had made it to Angelus late the night before, apparently upsetting someone in the main room. We got passed twice by two blokes in red jackets on their way up and down but most importantly there was more and more snow as we continued, eventually wading/bumsliding down to Angelus Hut- which the other group had left that morning.
It was empty for us, though. When we arrived it was too toasty to be comfortable, but this heat proved invaluable when night fell and the bedrooms were freezing. We dragged out some mattresses.
That night we played strip poker, though within this trip report is held the truth- it was all imaginary. No actual stripping. There, I said it.
True to the club, the headtorch was last, and we all had a giggle when James, who continued to lose beyond the number of clothes he was wearing, was sent out naked on the frozen lake with a headtorch set to flash.
The next day was probably the toughest. We headed out across the frozen lake (noting a half made snowmen and some footprints that hadn't been there the night before, and uneasily recalling some unusual sounds during the night) and followed the other group's footprints up and over Sunset Saddle (lovely name, lovely view, not so lovely trek) but the ice in the streams and the sparkling ground definitely made it an experience.
Wearing crampons as we were, Paul demonstrated how this can cause a slide to go painfully wrong. James, inexplicably, followed him down but improved upon Paul's "crampon catching in the ground" technique, while Matt and I walked because we love living on the edge.
With our Glorious Leader injured, but not too badly (no broken limbs, anyway), we continued. Photos of this time on the saddle are so regrettably few because our official photographer had lost the inclination to take any. It was pretty, though.
So fun climbs and very slow and nervous descents (on my part, anyway- Matt has loads of fun) down the scree slopes. Out of the snow at last, we put away our ice axes one by one but keep wearing our helmets until we reached Hopeless Hut (depressing name, lovely hut).
Worshipping of Sir Edmund Hillary ensued; it was generally agreed that he built the hut (no credit whatsoever went to the NZ Alpine Club that the sign falsely claimed had built it), and that his hands independently built benches while he slept (hence benches enough to pretty much take all the floor space) and by the end he was practically dethroning Chuck Norris.
James, in a remarkable turn of events, started winning cards, managing to get a near perfect hand every round regardless of the dealer. This was only the start of the betrayal of my cards. They proceeded to play favourites throughout the trip, but never for me.
The next day would be our last day of walking for a while, and it was a mostly flat, really lovely day. We had lunch at John Tait Hut, checked the intentions book for the other group who we had heard over the radio had stayed there the second night but couldn't find them (BAD) and generally complained about the many biting insects. We chatted to some older trampers who had arrived and hoped they didn't follow us to Upper Travers, where we planned to spend our rest day.
After lunch we continued on, reaching the sole upward slope of the trail and crossing avalanche paths. No avalanches happened, although it was worrying to see that John Tait is at the bottom of one of these paths.
We did see a waterfall though, which was gorgeous, and Matt was thrilled to find the source of the schist which had been everywhere. Paul was quizzing him on everything and has probably fulfilled the requirements for first year geology now.
Past the avalanche paths, we saw a little bit of snow and up ahead, the twenty-eight bunk (I think) Upper Travers Hut.
We spent our rest day there, intending to wait out the forecasted bad weather before going over Travers Saddle to West Sabine Hut. The normally barebones DOC sign even said "West Sabine Hut - 6 hours. Are you prepared for Travers Saddle?", the first question I have ever seen on one of those signs.
Unfortunately the forecast, told to us by the radio guy (thought by us to actually be Sir Ed, transformed into radio waves) was for gales. We decided to have our rest day and see what the weather was doing later.
A mattress fort was constructed in front of the fire, since we had the hut to ourselves. Unfortunately the table, which was the central support, made it very difficult to get at the fire. After several incidents of head banging, the next fort was constructed in the kitchen area, using a bench. It was awesome; you could sit up in this one. To complete, we pitched our emergency tent on top of it. This did not make Fort Travers V2 any warmer.
Forecast was for gales again. We finally decided to scrap the Saddle and stay for another day, making our "rest day" a total of three nights at Upper Travers. Team CMI were grateful for the respite for their "Collection of Minor Injuries", including screwed legs, blisters, axe wounds, and sore axes and knees from picking fights with rocks.
By the time we left we were very eager to get moving again. We retraced our steps, paused at John Tait again (enjoying the upside down tap) and had lunch with the sandflies at the Hopeless junction before continuing along the swing bridge that we hadn't taken several days before.
This was a fairly long and- though I hate to say it because I am as slow as molasses uphill- pretty uninteresting walk, except for the rampant bird life. We learnt some stuff about rocks courtesy of our resident geologist and about children's memories courtesy of our resident psychologist. We saw some ducks, discussed whether they were paradise or whio, and met an aggro little robin. It didn't want to be friends if I didn't have any food.
We got to Coldwater Hut, found a dead rabbit in the lake, spotted some swans and some more ducks. We lit a fire in the awesome fireplace to drive out all the biting bugs and since we had two dinners for only one night, decided to have Chinese-flavoured rice that night and exploding mashed potato for breakfast.
Seriously. The flavouring didn't respond well to being heated.
Also that night was our farewell to the radio guy, but to our dismay it wasn't our best friend, our constant companion. We decided Sir Ed had some other important business to attend to.
We left Coldwater in the morning after a lazy start and it was several hours of walking around a most beautiful lake. We lost Paul for a bit and left him sitting on a jetty in his happy place.
When we got to the exit point we hung about for a bit. The other team drove down and picked up James, taking him away. We considered raiding his bag for the insect repellent but the dude packs ridiculously well.
Anyway, he came back with his car and we set off for St Arnaud, the bush portion of our trip sadly complete.
In St Arnaud there is a general store, and a fish and chip store. We went straight for the general store and bought a pie each. James went crazy and bought a bottle of something fizzy and a bag of chips as well.
That was the best pie ever, after a week of mashed potatoes, rice and porridge.
So we went to the rented bach, found the other group showered and clean and had our own showers. At five we headed down to the fish and chip place and got some of those and topped up again at the general store.
We all hung out at the house, it was awesome. There were other baches with cool names like "Amble Inn" and "Elsewhere". This one was called "Dik's". Classy.
We played a game of modified Fiasco (look it up, it's awesome) and eventually we all got tired and found places to sleep.
The next morning Achim was making breakfast on a cooker by the light of his headtorch. Habits die hard. However it turned out the water and electricity were on the blink and so we staggered around for a few hours before organising ourselves and loading up the cars. As it turned out, the overnight rain had soaked the boots left outside. Some people were sad.
We stopped for lunch, devoured half of McDonalds and stopped by New World, and continued on to Picton. We checked in early and chilled around the cars for a bit. Eventually we got on the ferry, played cards, was awesome, and then eventually the ferry trip was over and so was our extravaganza.

Taranaki Trip 2013 by Kaitlin Maddever

DominicOberhumer — Sun, 16 Jun 2013 23:15:51 GMT

Trip report for Taranaki Trip, 31 May- 3 June

So. It was nearly 5pm and no one else had arrived yet. Serves me right for arriving early.
Dom and Paul (our emergency contact) arrived at five and as per tramping club time, the others trickled in over the next hour or so. We split up into our teams, divvied up group gear and divided into our last minute transport- a van and a car. With four people per group (mostly) it was roughly split with Rosy and Dom's teams in the van, and Josh's team in the car.
The ride there was a bit of a race with various food stops and a few mistakes along the way (the car stopped in "fake Levin" and the van took a detour) but we all got to North Egmont road eventually, around one in the morning. Yaaay.
There was white stuff on the ground and it was pretty bloody chilly. We all packed our packs, took photos of the moonbow and the mountain, and then set off.
SNOW!!!
We walked up the Puffer, then entered the "depuff zone" for a breather, and then continued up the concrete/snow path which was not so fun. We reached the Tahurangi Lodge (thanks Josh) at about 2am, I believe. Might have been 3. I don't know, but it was late and so we sneaked in, and got to sleep in a room set aside for us that was really, really hot.
In the morning we had breakfast and hung about in the main room for a bit, microwaves and all, and then eventually we decided it would be a good idea to head to Holly Hut.
Josh's team took a different path to the other groups, going and hanging out at a skifield for a bit with a reconstructed couch which has more history than any piece of furniture I've ever met, and then returned to the Lodge for a nap, apparently.
The other two teams went straight to the hut, tramping through the snow (which was AWESOME) and later the rain (which was not) and discussing our challenges and for Dom's team at least, telling lots and lots of riddles. Go Team Go Team Go!
The challenges were a set of activities we could complete for points, including riddles and photographic challenges. These would be compared on the final night and the winners decided.
We arrived at Holly Hut for lunch, which was a lovely short day, and hung up all our clothes and a few damp sleeping bags. The MFRE News Team (Rosy's group- don't ask me what that stands for!) recorded a brief report of weather conditions and other news items.
Josh's team hadn't arrived by sunset so we decided they'd stayed at the Lodge another night. We made dinner (Holly Hut has solar lighting!), played cards, chatted with the other trampers when lo and behold, the sodden BAMFGOATs arrive! The drying line was quickly rearranged and so the entire group was reunited.
The next day, most of our intrepid group decided to go see the waterfall, which was reportedly small but apparently in actual fact quite large (and cold). However some of us lazier trampers decided to stay dry and warm at the hut instead.
After another lunch at Holly Hut, we all backtracked a little to head to a hut that I cannot remember the name of but was quite long and I think started with a T. Our team made pauses along the way to complete the challenges (which we hadn't really started by this point) and entered the Sphagnum Swamp, nature's kidney, and avoided harming the kidney by walking on the boardwalk. I think the teams mostly condensed at this point, as we arrived at The Stairs of Doom.
There were lots of stairs, and stair related jokes, and personal development advice such as "start doing squats and stop shaving" which apparently works for both guys and gals.
So it was getting quite misty by the time we got to the hut, which was full of kids. Sam of the BAMFGOATs taught the kids a card trick, and the little pyros played with the candles endlessly, filling them with bits of tissue paper and stuff. Another couple who had been there had gone onto another hut, which was fairly understandable.
After dinner and after the other trampers had gone to bed, it was time to find the winner of the challenges!
I don't really have the points breakdown, but as I recall the MFRE News Team won. Drinks all around! The news team had another report to make, calling upon all the multinational representatives in our group from Sweden, Samoa, America and a brief shot of Canada I think.
Eventually we all got to sleep (with a couple of bedtime stories from the top bunk) and woke up before sunrise the next morning for our longest walk of the trip.
It was very misty and quite cold, and we had some MORE STAIRS before we reached a peak from which "on a good day" you could apparently see all of creation, but as it was all we could see was a blank white canvas. Which was somewhat cool, but also disappointing.
There was much walking, a little map reading and bridge confusion, and an awesome sign of death left by the quick group who were going to pick up the transport and drive down so we didn't all have to walk up the road. The slower groups had lunch at 9.30am (yep) at a shelter and walked down to the roadend, where there were bets over how long the cars would take to arrive. I'm not sure who won that. But we were out in plenty of time given the time we woke up, and the drive back to Wellington was punctuated by foodstops, coffee breaks, and more importantly a view of Mount Taranaki, which we hadn't had since the night we arrived.

Cheers,
Kaitlin

Eastern Tararuas Trip: February 2013

DominicOberhumer — Wed, 27 Feb 2013 18:06:35 GMT

Eastern Tararuas: February 2013

Of Ridges and Rivers in the Rainy Ranges

Tuesday 12^th of February: I turned up early to the Welsh Dragon, the meeting place of the Victoria tramping club during the holidays, in order to get in some pre-meeting drinks, pancakes and some light conversation with a friend who also liked the idea of a few extra beverages. Over the next half hour other members start arriving and the conversation turns, inevitably, to nothing in particular. Eventually someone makes mention of a possible trip for the coming weekend, a sign-up sheet is passed around and I put my name down. I haven’t listened to what the trip is but I have no other plans so why wouldn’t I go tramping?

Friday 15^th of February: Achim has a plan. This is a statement that I’ve been told should worry me especially as it turns out no-one else is joining us on this trip. The plan is to catch the train to Masterton, collect supplies, grab a bite, hitch-hike to the Kiriwhakapapa road-end and then start walking. This all goes swimmingly, with only two people not much can really go wrong. We are picked up relatively quickly from Masterton, within half an hour; impressive considering that we are two long haired men and one of us is unshaven. We are picked up by a man who takes several puffs of his inhaler before puffing on a cigarette but is friendly and kind enough to drop us fairly well at the start of the track.

So now the true intent for the weekend must be discussed. We will walk from the Kiriwhakapapa road-end to Blue Range hut tonight. On Saturday we will follow the track to Cow Creek for a while then bash to Cow Saddle, then to head over Waignawa and Bannister to get to Arete Biv and see what we feel like from there, possibly heading to Carceek hut. On Sunday we would bush-bash to Nichols hut then head out to Otaki forks via Waitewaewae.

We start walking towards Blue Range hut at 9pm and after fifteen minutes have to make a brief stop. This is partly to get out head torches but mostly to change to lighter clothes, Achim simply going shirtless. I opt for my favourite shirt which has increased airflow due to my going manic with a pair of scissors a few weeks back. In any case the uphill slog has me sweating like a pig; it is a seriously warm night. Achim, true to his reputation, seems unable to realise that going uphill should affect his speed and I soon start to fall behind. This isn’t a problem as the track is clear and easy to follow.

Arriving at Blue Range hut is fantastic; I’m sweating and panting and laughing outwardly at the various signs plastered over the hut. The large “antenatal clinic” sign on the door and the “occupied” sign on a tree near the toilet being highlights. Before we go to sleep for the night I make sure we finish off the large bottle of cider in my bag. The reasons for this are many: cider is delicious, alcohol is a muscle relaxant, it helps you get to sleep and it also gives me wild vivid dreams. The most important thing though is that it’s a kg less to carry tomorrow.

Saturday 16^th February: We wake up fairly early and leave the hut within an hour. Initially the walk is fantastic and I’m pleased to find I can keep up with Achim on the flat and mild downhill. When we come across the DoC sign to Waignawa (half the sign quite obviously missing) we head off the track and start following a bearing confirmed by the occasional piece of pink plastic tied to a branch. We come out of the bush right next to a sign reading Cow Saddle and another sign that is just a picture of a cow; so we’re pretty sure we’re in the right place then.

We start climbing up the side of Waignawa and yet again Achim astounds me with no perceptible change in his pace despite the noteworthy increase in steepness. We stop for a snack just before the bush-line and marvel at the great blue skies and light cool breeze we’ve been lucky enough to catch. Once at the top of Waignawa we spot a potential issue; clouds, lots of them, big heavy looking clouds that are heading straight for us though they are luckily still some distance off. We head towards Bannister and up it. Achim had bought a rope as there were apparently a couple of points were it might be wise to climb without our packs on and pull them up after us. We find such a point and decide that the rope isn’t necessary and have a fun little climb without a worry; it wouldn’t be much of a fall and it would just be straight into leatherwood. Sure lacerations would occur but broken bones seemed unlikely. At the top of Bannister we have just met the clouds and Achim is far enough in front of me to get a magnificent sense of just how tiny a human is compared to a cloud. We get to Arete Biv fairly quickly and fairly dry as the clouds seem to have no desire to shed their contents.

After some tea and some map browsing we decide to head onto Carceek hut, once a VUWTC hut and a quite nice little place. This involves a few hours of heading over the peaks of Lancaster, Thompson and Carceek. Mercifully each of these peaks is easier than the one before it. Getting close to Carceek hut we hear voices and realise the hut is probably full. This isn’t a worry as sleeping on the floor is an art of which I consider myself a master and we have a fly we can pitch if need be. As it turns out the hut is full of VUWTC members and friends. I consider it unimportant but worth noting that I was a bit younger than everyone else present. I am 21 and Jamie, a friend of a few club members who lives in the USA, was celebrating his 30^th birthday, complete with a cake and candles. After some discussion and some beer it was alluded to that there were some spare seats and a ride back to Wellington for me and Achim if we went back to Kiriwhakapapa. Although this meant we wouldn’t be doing a crossing of the Tararuas it also meant we wouldn’t have to hitch-hike back to Wellington so we took the offer.

Sunday 17^th of February: The alarm went off at six and it took me about 5 minutes to pack my bag and get it out the door before starting breakfast. The great thing about sleeping on the floor (once you learn how to avoid any potential soreness) is that you have almost no desire to remain where you are once you wake up.

Achim was also soon ready to go and we headed off before the rest of the group. It was a brilliant morning with the cloud layer far below us looking like an ocean with the occasional mountain peak popping out here and there. The sky above the clouds was absolutely clear and we were able to see both Mount Taranaki and the South Island. We headed back up to Lancaster peak before turning off down Pinnacle spur towards Arete Forks hut. This path is entertainingly steep at points and at this time of year there are Edelweiss growing everywhere. We stopped at Arete Forks hut, had some lunch and waited for everyone to catch up at which point it was unanimously decided that heading down Waignawa river was the better way to get to Cow Creek hut.

Boulder hopping and river tramping is about the most fun you can have on a nice day and this Sunday was certainly bright and sunny. We were drenched fairly quickly, having found several points where jumping off rocks into deep water was simply the most expedient option. I’d never pack-floated before and though it may be fun it is as far removed from elegance as seems humanly possible. After two and a half hours of clambering, jumping and swimming down this river with the most ludicrous grin on my face we reached Cow Creek hut. The weather chooses this point to pack it in so we didn’t dry off for the rest of the trip (a blessing almost disguised).

The walk from Cow Creek hut to the Blue Rang hut junction is a slog, no better word for it. By the time we reached the junction I was yet again sweating profusely, despite still being wet from the river and the drizzle that had started up. Heading back down to the Kiriwhakapapa road-end was good fun at a decent pace, just steep enough for a quick descent but not so steep as to require much concentration. Heading back to Wellington in a warm car with a kebab stop in Carterton was pleasant and appreciated.

The only other thing to mention is that five minutes before the Road-end I received two bee stings. I had never been stung before and had no idea how to react so simply relied on the tried and true method of shouting a few choice profanities then shrugging and getting on with it.

Monday 18^th of February (Today): It is about 9pm and there is no longer any muscle soreness in my legs and my knees are fine however there is something else. My left ankle and foot are about twice the size of my right foot and ankle. Though there are no signs of anaphylaxis my body certainly freaked out and set the histamine pumps to 11. Now I just sit in my comfy chair comfortable in the knowledge that I’d do the whole trip again in a heartbeat if someone asked; sweat, soreness, cold clouds, leatherwood, Spaniard and bee stings included.

Dominic Oberhumer