It was 6.30am at Herepai Hut. Mike and I looked at each other and he said, "OK - lets Go!". Twenty minutes later I was slogging up to Ruapae wondering if I should have piked from the planned Herepai-Arete Biv-Roaring Stag Lodge trip with Johnny, Jonathan and Richard. Still, the president's birthday was a worthwhile event to celebrate and Saturday's sloth was great!
Off East Peak and up to West Peak, the body having a moan about the early morning workout, we lazed in the sun and gazed at the Manawatu Plains for a few minutes before blatting off for Dundas Hut.
At Pukemoremore, Dundas Hut to Cattle Ridge seemed too easy, 'buggar it - let's bowl on!". Across the tawny corrugated tops we tramped, Logan and Dundas fell behind us but Cattle Ridge didn't seem to be getting any closer. Over the Twins, crunching through the last patches of winter snow, and up and across Bannister. By this stage the legs had decided that walking anymore was a silly idea and were conveying their feelings to the brain ... they kept on walking.
By Waingawa the patches of grey mist had thickened and rain began to fall. It didn't really matter by that stage as the flat tops of Cattle Ridge were ahead of us, and it was a fast walk to Cattle Ridge Hut. Here we met Johnny, Jonathan and Richard who had had a cruisy trip via Dundas Hut. We joined up for the quick drop to Roaring Stag Lodge.
The plod up to the Putara turnoff (in more rain.) turned into a canter for the last 40 minutes out to the carpark, leaving several daytrippers wondering if those guys get anything out of racing around the hills.
Nine and a half hours after leaving Herepai we set off for Wellington, tired but happy, and definitely looking forward to the traditional milkshake at Featherston.
The group:
Mike (3 minute stop) Sheriden
Grant (Piked on a pike) Harper
Never, in the history of mankind, has so much, been learned by so many, in one weekend.
Looking back on the first day it's hard to explain how we really could have made such a simple mistake, and why on earth it took us so long to realize exactly what it was.
As you probably realize bash on thru is a sort of orienteering course. Mike Robertson would give us a grid reference and then we would have to try to find a check point (a club member lurking in the bush who has radio contact with Mike) using a map, a compass, and any hints that may have come our way.Our unsuspecting group was led by Jane Maxwell and consisted of myself, Ruth and Vince. We set off in reasonable confidence on Saturday morning due to a hint (unreliable piece of information) given to us by Mike Sheriden the night before. Because of the hint we headed off for creek K but because of our over confidence due to the hint (which led to laziness) we actually traveled up creek C. we found trying to turn creek C into creek K on the map extremely difficult. But in actual fact we should have been travelling up creek C, which we were, only we thought we were travelling up creek K. So in our confusion we were heading right on course for the checkpoint, until we were about 900 meters away from it. It was then that we decided to leave the creek and climb onto the ridge.
Once we were on the ridge we took some bearings which made absolutely no sense at all, so we had lunch (highly recommended in such situations). It was during this period of restful regeneration that someone mentioned a sign at the start of the creek that said "creek C', with this extra vital piece of information it didn't take our leader long to realize that we were extremely geographically embarrassed. once we had a fair idea of where we were we found the checkpoint without to much trouble but only just in time. We caught Donna and Tussock just about to walk off and a note tied to a tree.
The next day we were a lot more careful and it paid off, we didn't get
lost once. At the end we found out that we were by no means the only group
that learned the hard way. But at least we learned and in a safe situation
(I presume). This sort of weekend is essential to anyone planning on going
tramping, especially if you haven't done anything like it for a while,
it's also great fun so I'll see ya there next year.
The dates are pretty hazy now, all that matters is that is was in January. I arrived at Cook after the great Olivine Expedition (which I'm sure you'll find in these pages somewhere). I hung around the Hermitage for a week hoping to find someone to climb with, but no luck. Went down to the Alpine Club hut to try my luck. That's how I met Carol MeDermott. First appearances were deceiving, a good 5 o'clock shadow, jersey with holes in the sleeves and with a rapid pace devouring large quantities of toast. 'Yea I'm looking for a partner to do the east ridge' hope it's not out of my league. "What sort of climbing have you done?". I list the slopes I have strolled up. After a bit of discussion we thought we should walk into Plateau Hut that day, so it was a quick rush job with food and packing and a lift to Ball Hutt road end by late morning, with Greg Aimer. Lunch at Ball Shelter then the boulder hop up the Tasman Glacier to Haast Ridge. Made Haast Hut for the radio sched. A good WX forecast then to Plateau by 8.00pm to find a few friendly faces, from the Alpine Hut, who had flown in and also Cam Faulkner and Martin Hunter who seemed surprised at my appearance in such 'high up' places.
Rest day - we sat outside and cooked pancakes - what a view and the avalanches off Cook and Tasman made it even more impressive Late afternoon we took a snow plod across the Plateau to mark out our route and find any crevasses!
The next morning was rather busy with people heading in every direction. The first ones leaving at mid-night! They were heading to the East Ridge also so we had steps plodded part way.
The Grant Plateau was like a town - torch beams moving slowly in outward directions. We caught up to our step makers too quickly so we had to do our share. Around sunrise we were about 100 feet off the ridge. I was looking forward to getting to the ridge-place to sit and admire and view. NO luck! It was steeper on the other side and a lot further down to the Caroline Glacier below so we began walking on the ridge, one a foot either side: Austin Brookes and his Everest cohorts made the ridge, but retired back, yelling their best wishes before they disappeared back down. The first half of the ridge was technically easy but a lot of exposure. There was one rock section but nothing too difficult that couldn't be climbed with crampons.
The few stops we made were precarious to say the least - one leg each side of the knife edge ridge. One stop was to fix Carol's crampon - unluckily he chose this climb to leave his repair kit back in the hut. So we mended it with a piece of nylon cord!
On the upper ridge we sidled out onto the Caroline Face - wow what am I doing here.' It was pretty steep, front pointing and two ice tools. The snow/ice was quite hard, which made it even more tiring. We moved the whole way roped up - without belays. (Don't ask your A.I.C instructor if this is a good technique.)
Just after noon we popped out on the summit ridge - what a view - amazing. A bite to eat just below middle peak. Then the Traverse along. The rope was getting continuously caught on the ice so we moved unroped. An hour later we saw a high point and no more high points beyond. We were on top of New Zealand. You couldn't see my face for the grin on it. The ever present Moro Bar was consumed to celebrate the ascent then the decent down the Linda - with seven people being on the summit already there were tracks to help. On top of the summit rocks we ran into a New Zealander and Canadian slowly descending, we spent ages setting up an abseil down the rocks. At 7.00pm we were still higher than Tasman! The last part was a nightmare - knee to neck deep snow. We finally arrived at Plateau Hut 21 half hours after we started, and lot more stuffed!
Carol teamed up with a gun Aussie climber and two days later started on the big faces of the park. Me, I teamed up with the Canadian to try Tasman, but I had infected blisters on my shins which put a stop to that and any other climbing. The rest of my Cook vacation was spent in R & R except a jaunt up to Gardiner Hut on the Hooker only to find my shins were still too tender. So I put my thumb out and headed back to Wellington.
'Oh to live on sugar mountain', sings Neil Young while I try to write something on rock craft.
I like the idea of mountains but the sugar seems to be a bit of a sickly excess. Yet 'the barkers and the balloons' seem a good idea.
I also liked the sunshine on rock craft as I sat belaying people from the top of a climb that most found too easy. But I learnt a lot about tieing into protection. (Thanks mike S) Then I went and climbed 'split apple' for the first time after many attempts. It seemed so easy but there were no coloured ballons and I couldn't repeat the climb, afterwards.
Other people practised abseiling, 'figure-eight' knots, prussicking, italian hitches, and other climbing,activities. Having someone (at the bottom) hanging onto the abseil rope proved to be of more value than coloured balloons. This person by pulling on the rope can slow down the person abseiling and stop them swinging out of control (or leaning too far back).
We also played soccer in the sand, burnt sausages, and the stayers ended back at the flat. Tiredness and old age meant we just sat around drinking coffee, viewing slides, and complaining when I tried to introduce people to the blues.
Oh well, as Neil Young said: 'You can't be twenty on sugar mountain"
Looking back, the day introduced people to ropes, bitches, knots and rock-climbing. If they're keen to do more the knowledge will prove useful. Otherwise the sunshine and the chance to try a few climbs proved (hopefully) to be an enjoyable experience.
But me - I'm still dreaming of a sugar mountain for us over-twenties.
Planned Trip: Holdsworth Lodge - Mountain House - Powell - McGregor - Nicholls - Andersons - Maungahuka - Kime - Field - Parawai Lodge - a five day trip.
On the Friday evening, Wayne Scanlan (our leader), Richard Reynolds, myself (Mark Bonisch), and other VUWTC trampers set off from Wellington to Holdsworth Lodge, to commence the clubs 'visit all the huts in the Tararuas'. We originally had four in our group, but had a late withdrawal. After arriving at the Lodge, we set off for Mountain House. Our leader had a lot of difficulty hacking the pace and was considering piking out the next day.
At the start of Saturday we intended to get to McGregor, if not further, so set off up to Mt Holdsworth. Funny compass work meant we ended up staying the night at Jumbo, myself being the piker.
Sunday morning presented us with a low cloud line, above which we could see for miles and miles - an amazing sight. Upon arriving at McGregor, we realised how little room we would have had and were pleased we had stayed the night at Jumbo. At our only river crossing of the journey, Wayne fell in - head first! - perhaps he was upset at missing the Iron Maiden Concert in Palmerston North. On our way up to Nichols we lost the track for a while and ended up grovelling on all fours for about 20 - 30 minutes which reminded me of the club's Toga Party. Once above the bush line, we had a little difficulty finding the but - it wasn't till we sighted the bog that we found it!
Monday and off to Andersons. At one stage we could see Kapiti Island, although we usually had only about 100 meters visibility. Andersons Hut seemed too nice to leave - if only we had stayed! The route guide said three hours to Maungabuka - if only! As the afternoon got on, snow started to fall a little - a pleasant sight initially, until the colder climate joined in. At about 4.00pm, our leader began having doubts as to whether we should continue for the hut, or to go down off the tops beneath the bush line. As we continued toward the hut, our leader provided great morale boosting support, forever saying 'we're not going to make it' (and you wonder why we wanted to leave him up there!).
An hour or so later and Maungahuka Hut. The other VUWTC party was there - Greg Hurrell, Vince Cholewa, Darryl May and Mike Fisher - minus their leader who had left them the previous day with a suspected fractured leg. While we warmed ourselves, they made us a brew and a meal - thanks guys - iy was most appreciated.
Tuesday, and we awoke to a southerly blowing and a layer of snow outside. We decided to change our plans and go out via Neil Forks and Holdsworth - the same way the other group had come in. As the cold wind was blowing the snow into our faces and we all had either no or little snow experience, we decided to return to the hut and wait for a break in the weather.
Unfortunately this didn't occur, so we prepared ourselves for a day or two more in the hut. Food-wise we had no problems, each party had surplus food, including some vension from a hunter we had met the previous day, and there was a snack of spud and onions in the hut - surprisingly they made a tasty meal. We were also aware of the NZFS food locker, but had no need to consider breaking in.
The southerly on Wednesday was not at all friendly. There was no way we were going to attempt to leave the hut. When we arrived back in Wellington, we were told this had been one of the worst days for 10 years.
The time of day was spent playing cards, reading bushcraft manuals, and Vince and Gregg trappers being zipped together!
As 5.00pm came and went, we became officially overdue, and wondered as to how Mike Sheridan and co would react?
Awoke on Thursday with snow piled a fair way up the door. As the cloud lifted, enabling us to see Mt Holdsworth, we decided to reattempt to leave. We got maybe 100 metres, before returning. No way would we be walking out until the situation changed. We then decided weld be best to sit and wait for assistance from S.A.R.
Friday, and still waiting for the situation to change. The southerly began to calm down a little and ice began to melt off the roof. After five days, I finally forced myself to make the strenuous journey to the bog, some distance away - what a walk!
At about 6.30am an Saturday, we awoke to a clear sky - just what we had been waiting for. As the rest of us got up, all Wayne could say was 'go back to bed and I need my beauty sleep". So while he stayed in bed, the rest of us enjoyed the beautiful view - almost worth waiting five days for. After packing up, we waited for a SAR chopper - realising the first stage of their search would be a hut search by a chopper.
At about 7.30am, we spotted a chopper following our route from Holdsworth via Nicholls to us - what a tremendous sight it was. The SAR team seemed pleased to find both groups together and not in need of urgent help. When asked what we wanted to do, the reply was 'get the f**k out of here! '.
We were choppered out to Otaki Forks - a five minute ride - heaps better then walking - especially the view. At Otaki Fords, Wayne still had to be a pessimistic prick, so started worrying about who and when we'd be picked up.
What an excellent feeling to return to civilisation - at last a shower and change of clothes, and real food - no more spud and onion stew!
Thanks to Mike Sheridan, SAR team and all others who helped in getting
us out - much appreciated.
Once we reached the road, T X P persuaded a rather foolish couple to drive him the 9kms to collect the car, and several hours later we were heading into Te Anau motorcamp and into the three S's. That nite we celebrated our survival with much food and wine at the local Cobb & Co.
On reflection Donna and myself were not overly disappointed at not reaching the Plateau. Theatre Flats, Routeburn Falls, Cow Saddle were superb places and the trip itself was a lot of fun, putting aside the frustration of the airdrop. For Mike, Muzza and Justin, I suspect the lure of the snow and the peaks to climb must have made this trip somewhat of a disappointment, which was certainly a pity. If it was, they covered it well.
Thanks to Mike for organising and setting up the trip, it was for me an ace place to visit, all things considered - how about next year??
Olivines 84/85 were:
Mike Robertson, Donna Robertson, Murray (Muzza) Corles, Justin LeSueur
and Terry X Patterson.
P.S. A word on airdrops, - triple bag everything, pack into a 'heavy sack, be specific on where it is to be landed, don't put all your food in it - remember it could go wrong?
Having spent long days and late nights completing our surveys for Lands, Dennis and I decided a couple of weeks in the mountains were needed to firm lazy muscles and raise flagging spirits. We decided to begin with a week of winter climbs in the Kaikouras.
It was 10.45 and already considerable amounts of ice were falling. We bumslid, glissaded and rolled down the couloir with varying rates of speed and degrees of elegance and were back at the hut by 1, already 8 hours on the go and still the trip down the Hodder ahead. At 2.45 we'd eaten, packed and cleaned the hut and headed off down the river. We hoped to be out before the last 6.30 radio sched but were forced to stop and put up the aerial 20 minutes from the road end. We finally reached the haybarn at 7.15, spread ourselves out and cooked up a vile vesta on the last tank of white spirits. Dinner disposed of, we crawled into pit and were almost instantly asleep.
The rural delivery truck does the trip Up the Awatere twice a week, travelling up on Tuesday and Friday, and returning the following days. The cost is $5 each way. it is necessary to ring Marlborough Transport and put your name down as there is only limited room on the truck. it leaves Blenheim 10ish and usually arrives at Hodder Bridge 2ish.
The Kaikouras are an excellent place for a winter trip - cold, but the weather is generally settled. One point I would strongly recommend to anyone contemplating a winter trip is to take a helmet. Falling rocks and blocks of ice were a constant threat and we were each hit a number of times.
Day 1 Wairau valley - Hamilton River
Wet! Highlight of the day was hitting pit (under canvas) in the upper Hamilton and spending most of the afternoon telling each other gross stories until tea time. Jonathan was particularly disgusted by one of the less than usual uses for a biscuit. Get him to explain one day!
Day 2 Hamilton Valley - Begley Valley - Rainbow Valley
After some abortive bum-sliding off the Hamilton - Begley saddle we had lunch at Begley Hut celebrating the clearing weather and associated patches of big yellow. An extended stop off at the Begley - Rainbow forks for pix of surrounding peaks and flats. One of the local marsupials got in our way on the way up the Rainbow and supplemented tea that night. Verdict. not bad but needed to hang for a while.
Day 3 Rainbow Valley - Rainbow Pass - Travers Saddle - Sabine Forks.
After 2,000 feet of cramponning the view from Rainbow Pass was worth it. A panorama of snow-softened ridges broken by black upthrusts of rock ruled over by the high, brooding south face of Mount Travers. Weather: BRILLANT! A social evening at the forks with Graeme Speden's and Lain McGlinchy's E/M parties all staying a night. Swapped tales and marshmallows around an open fire next to our camp.
Day 4 - Sabine Forks - Lake Rotoroa
A lazy morning drying gear and sunbathing, with a fearless robin checking on breakfast activities. An easy wander down the Sabine Valley had us arriving at Lake Rotoroa just on sunset, and the tall ranks of trees were all tinged with gold from the dying rays.
Day 5 - Lake Rotoroa - Mt Cedric - Lake Angelus
Slept out on the lakeshore and the morning saw a full, silver moon casting a shaft of liquid light across the lake, as it set behind the western ranges, stirring the bell-birds into a beautiful chorus of echoing, fluted chimes. Mt Cedric is 3,500 feet of grunt but more than worth it, with a substantial section of the National Park laid out like a tourist brochure, in perfect weather (again:). Blatted through more snow, bum-sliding to Angelus Hut. Playtime!
Day 6 - Angelus Hut Pitbash
Due to my bad cold and grotty weather we stayed put and assaulted our pits. Johnny and Jonathan spent a comfortable night in a snow cave they had built near the hut. Graeme's party finally left after having accompanied us since Sabine Forks. By the way, lan Fleming's uprom Russia with Love isn't worth reading.
Day 7 - Angelus Hut - Cascade Track - west shore of Lake Rotoiti - St Arnaud
Up at 5.15am. Bumslid down to Hukere Stream on a few fresh inches of snow to the first basin. Here, the combination of snow and mist, twilight, hard high peaks and dark beech forest produced a surreal "Lord of the Rings" feel to "just another valley". The last couple of miles of roadbashing was not to be, due to some obliging Canterbury Tramping Club guys and their car. Time to catch up on the other groups trips then back to Wellington - SIGH!. Thanks to Nelson lakes National Park, the weather and most of all, my group, for a great trip.
The fit-pit group were: Richard (Havakrap) Haverkamp (L)
Johnny (Hyperactive) Mulheron Jonathan (Soggy Biscuit) Kenneth Grant (Dropgut)
Harper.
Sunday 2nd January
Months before, we had decided our next major trip would be to climb Mt Sefton, our first 10,000 footer, but after innumerable delays haggles and drop-outs we despaired of the trip ever getting off the ground. Suddenly we were standing at the Hermitage in freezing rain, wondering what we'd forgotten and thinking up excuses not to drag on our packs and head into the gloom. Our intentions, as told to the Ranger, were to cross, Copeland Pass, climb up Scott Creek to a camp in the Douglas Neve, climb Sefton and return via the Strauchon Glacier and Baker saddle. With this in mind we eventually headed into the driving rain, making for Hooker Hut. The hut was packed but we squeezed in through the complaining bodies, found some space beneath the table and sat listening to the 'gun' climbers throw words around like Balfour, 23-crux, new route and fu-u-ck.
Monday
We started late, taking some time sorting gear out and trying to squeeze things like billies and tents into already bulging packs. The weather had cleared during the night and most of the contents of the hut headed for the Pass in convoy. The climb was a grunt and the snow at the Pass deep and wet but the views were spectacular. We arrived at Douglas Rock latish and whipped Brian's boots off; day one and his feet were already a mess. Still, he did a convincing "shucks it's nothing for a couple of sympathetic Canadian lasses so Dennis taped the bits back together and we continued down to Scott Creek in the hope of getting up to the Neve on the morrow.
Tuesday
We woke to rain so, taking it in turns to worm out of the Olympus and pack, we eventually made our way down to Welcome Flats hut and set about making ourselves comfortable.
Wednesday
The weather deteriorated, torrential rain, thunder and hail. A number of other groups had sought refuge at Welcome Flats and the but took on a decidedly multinational flavour; Canadians, Poms, Aussies, Yanks, a couple of Swiss and us. Perhaps not surprisingly it didn't prove too difficult to kill a little time.
Thursday
The other groups retreated out to the west coast leaving us to the rain and mist. By now we knew we'd be lucky to climb Sefton let alone complete the rest of the trip we had planned. The hut radio had broken down so we had no idea how much longer the bad weather would continue. The day dragged.
Friday
At 4 it was still raining but by 7 it looked like it might clear and this was about our last chance so we packed and headed for Scott Creek. After half an hour it started raining again just to cheer us up and it continued just long enough to ensure the rock scramble past the waterfall was slick and nasty. However by the time we reached the Bivvy rock the sun was peeping through and we spread our gear around to give an illusion of drying.
Saturday
Away at five we zoomed up to the Tekano Glacier and across to Welcome Pass. The snow was firm and crisp and the weather perfect. The Cook Ranger had told us to steer clear of the Sierra Range, a range of small broken peaks leading to the west ridge of Sefton, but to sidle at its base. Before long this proved impossible with large crevasses baring our path so we looked up to the smooth snowline of the Sierras and began to climb. It turned out to be far steeper than it had looked from below and when the snow proved too hard to kick steps into we were forced to pigeonhole to the top. By the time we crested the ridge it was midday and the weather had begun to deteriorate. The Sierras looked a breeze from here so we discussed returning the next day and then trudged back to the bivy.
Sunday
Brian's feet were bad so Dennis and I headed off alone. Using shortcuts found while returning the day before we were at the top of the Sierras by eight and began the long traverse toward the west ridge of Sefton. What began as a broad snow ridge soon became a steep exposed arete, something we couldn't see from below, and before long we were forced to rope up. Not expecting this type of climbing we had only one emergency snow stake and my shaft belays quickly became tiring. Limited at the best of times, holding the stance for more than five minutes left muscles twitching and nerves frayed and after half a dozen rope lengths I called a halt. We agreed this was not the 2+ snow plod described in the route guide and as we could not see if the arete improved or worsened, we looked around for an alternative. About half way across the neve we saw a long gentle snow rib which appeared to go all the way to the shoulder of Sefton and after a brief discussion we bombed down off the Sierras, abseiled a small ice cliff and shrund (leaving behind Dennis's beloved snow stake) and were quickly on the neve. We roped up for crevasses and began slowly zig zaging between the bottomless slots and huge seracs of the neve arriving on the shoulder of Sefton an hour and a half later. From here there was only 1,000 feet of broad snow slope to climb but it was by now 1 o'clock, we were both exhausted, the snow was turning to mush and heavy cloud was rolling in. It seemed we were fated not to climb Sefton today and after a dispirited arguement on the nature of defeat we turned and plodded back to the neve. Perhaps the most discouraging part was that looking back along the Sierras from Sefton we could see where we had reached that morning and that only 3 or 4 rope lengths had separated us from the broad snow ridge on which we now stood. The snow was rapidly worsening so we hurried back across the neve, once or twice leaving a footprint larger than the rest where a leg had disappeared into the depths of a hidden slot. We were back at the bivy by four and, there being little point hanging around, quickly packed and headed back down Scott Creek. I had decided to return to the Hermitage so at Welcome Flats we parted company, Dennis and Brian to the hot pools at Welcome Flats Hut, me to Douglas Rock.
Monday
After an uncomfortable night nursing painful sunburn I for once did
not begrudge a 4 o'clock rise. 1 ate the last of my food, an instant pud,
and headed for Copeland Pass. my pace was something less than energetic,
however, I reached the pass on good crust before the sun had hit the snow
and quickly scurried down to Copeland Biv before my already beetroot red
legs and face could be further fried. The ridge from Copeland Biv is definitely
worse going down, not recommended with a heavy pack and rubber legs and
the mere thought of the sharp rocks scraping my glowing limbs made me cringe,
but I made good time arriving at Hooker Hut at 11.30. Here 1 sat down for
a short breather and promptly fell asleep. An hour and a half later some
loopies woke me so 1 continued down to the Hermitage arriving at 3. My
last rational move that night was to find a corner seat in Ye Olde Coffee
Shoppe before eating and drinking myself into blissful oblivion.
It wasn't until after the trip that I actually found anyone who had
also done it (the Cook Ranger had not, nor had anyone else who happily
offered directions and advice). The first, an Alpine Guide at Twizel said
the Sierra Range was the route, steep but 'straight forward'. The second
assured me that the snow rib that we had found through the Douglas Neve
was the way but watch the crevasses, this year is the worst I've seen 'em.
Just about says it all doesn't it. A brief note on the effectiveness of
U.V.Stat sunscreen. It's crap! ! You might as well use distilled water
for all the good it does. If you intend spending time on the snow get Roche
Eversun total block. Expensive, but your skin's worth every cent.
The trip began the morning after the Toga Party so enthusiasm for a 6.00am start was decidedly absent. Despite several party members' inability to eat breakfast and to sleep (for those spending the night on the floor of Iain's flat) we were eventually underway by 8.30am. A Mix up with Alan about where we were supposed to meet meant a half an hour delay in Pahiatua, finally arriving at the shearers quarters in Makuri, for early lunch/late breakfast around 11.30am.
The first cave tackled was Wai Marama. The trip up the farm track was 'exciting' as the track was covered in a layer of very slippery mud causing the cars to slide sideways towards a 30 foot cliff without warning. After the ride up, to get into the cave came as quite a relief. The cave consists of three steep slopes down the sides of large chambers (from 20 to 60 feet high) with inter-connecting horizontal passages. All members made it to the bottom and out without major incident - some climbing out again without the aid of ladders and ropes. In all, approximately 2 hours were spent underground and vast numbers of photos were taken.
After a late lunch at the shearers quarters, a cave called indecision (or PT17) was tackled. The party split into two and went in from different entrances. The upstream group rigging the pitches for the downstream group to de-rig on the way out. Most of the cave follows various stream passages and there are several waterfalls to climb and squeezes to go through (if your adventurous). So everybody got suitably wet and muddy. Most of the side passages were visited by everyone including the entrance to what is now 'Alans Ego'. A series of caverns discovered by Alan on a previous trip, but which he had to go back to on a later trip with a hammer and chisel to widen the entrance before they could be entered.
After that it was back to the hut for dinner, Black Russians (Vodka, DelCafe and Coke) and hot showers - not necessarily in that order. Next morning most people were late to rise as they were still sleeping off the Toga Party, so it was not until after lunch the final cave - Twin Bridges was tackled. This is a very small, tight, wet and muddy cave and was therefore popular with everyone - having to lie on your side in six inches of ice cold water, and your face lying in the mud while the person in front of you negotiates a squeeze is fun - really, no kidding.
The highlight (or should that be lowlight) of the trip was when John Edge dropped his carbide into a pool of neck deep water. Instead of abandoning it like any sane person he took his helmet off and dived in. That wasn't so bad but the pool had a layer of maggots floating on it, care of the dead sheep floating 10 feet away, so when he resurfaced, with his lamp, his hair was full of maggots. Everyone especially Mike who was watching him refused to have anything to do with him until he went for a swim in the river outside the cave for at least 10 minutes. After that we had had enough so it was back to the but for showers and Black Russians - then home, via Pahiatua for takeways.
Party:
| Jacqui van Roy
Iain McGlinchy Cat MeBrean Alan Cooper |
Mike Robertson
Kerrin Alrich Richard Havercamp |
Graeme Speden
John Edge Nigel Fitzpatrick |