Hut-bagging: An age old tramping club tradition which drives the bright eyed, young traraper to tackle uncountable odds, just so they can bag that hut!!
Hut bagging has a limited life, once the huts have been bagged the young tramper goes into tramper retirement, they lose their purpose for being in the hills - the sparkle has gone (not mentioning any names of course!). This is sad as there is nothing left for them except the Tararua Tramping Club and looking for sad sods who managed to turn on a straight ridge.
Over the Christmas break, Matt and I opened up a whole new sport - UNMARKED HUT BAGGING!!! That's right, looking for huts which nobody knows exist. Anyone can find the make shift bivvies that hunters make for themselves, we are looking for properly helicopter flown in, cost the average tramper to make, the hut committee know nothing about, type hut.
This new tramping sport opens up a whole new world for the dead and dying 'bagged all the huts' type tramper.
I'LL HAVE PICKLE WITH MY KIWIBURGER THANKS!!!
At the end of last year I was lucky enough to have my very first helicopter ride, I loved it, looking at the string rivers, winding valleys and huts which shouldn't exist. I was positive I had seen an unmarked hut, though I wasn't 100% sure as I wasn't certain of the chopper's exact route. All I knew was it had a silver roof, and it was amongst trees beside a river; not much to go on really. I raved to Matt that I had seen an unmarked hut and I was going to find it, much to Matt's amusement. Matt assured me that the hut I had seen was a marked hut, a bit further over from the spot where my mystery hut lay. I was deflated, I had gotten all excited for nothing, even so I stubbornly bet Matt a kiwiburger that I was right.
We organised a weekend trip to the hut which Matt thought I'd seen. So on a fine weekend in January, Matt, Nigel, Zorro (Matt's old flatmate's dog), and I wandered up river Saturday evening, packs laden with various alcoholic substances (well we wouldn't want it to be a wasted trip now would we??) Victory!! Matt's hut had a red roof, ray faith is restored in my sanity.
Matt was still a bit doubtful, Neil didn't really care, but Nigel had an undying faith that I was right and was willing to become part of the bet even though the odds were a tad against us. We slept out that night as Matt's hut was not good enough for sleeping in. It was a good sleepless night beside an awesome fire (amazing what you can achieve when the fire risk is critical!!), with the world's fattest possum preying on the remnants of our macaroni cheese. The most memorable part of that night was Neil spotting a morepork sitting on a ponga stump near where we lay. That was the first time I had seen a morepork in the wild.
The next day we decided to head back and take a look at the river which I thought the mystery hut was on. Part way we met up with two chaps, one of whom had a chopper ride the same time I did, Matt knows him and told him of our hut. He had also seen that hut and confirmed its existence. He thought it was set up from the river, in a different place from where I had originally thought. It was too far to reach the location where this chap had indicated so we decided to just head out via the river, promising to let this guy know if we ever found the hut.
The walk out was memorable with summer weather living up to its good
reputation. Travel down the river was good, with every swimming hole being
taken for a test drive. When we finally got out we decided to speak to
the Forest Ranger to confirm the hut, and find out if Nigel and I had scored
our Kiwiburgers. The ranger said he hadn't been there, but it was definitely
up the river I had first thought.
Nigel and I enjoyed our Kiwiburgers that night.
The next day we continued upriver, the sides were steep and we were concerned that the chap we met during the last trip may have been right, the hut was set up from the river. Despite this we pressed on. The river would have to be the park's best kept secret, the scenery is beautiful. Matt spotted a huge trout at one point in the river, and an eel in another. At one point the river went through a small water worn gorge, this formation would inhibit access upriver whenever there had been a decent rainfall. As we wandered up further I began to lose hope, as the river was too gorgy, but Matt was as keen as a bean so we pressed on. After a while the river, surprisingly, started to widen out which raised our hopes, and we picked up the search.
It was Matt who spotted the break in the toitoi's.
The hut is old, and has been kept away from the hut committee's knowledge for a long time. There was a hunter there when we arrived who invited us in for a cup of coffee. He was employed by DOC to cull deer and they had placed him and another chap there. Obviously DOC know it's there but we are unsure as to whether it has been deliberately kept out of the public eye or not. It's a proper but which has been flown in, it's a corrugated iron box with both an open fireplace and a pot belly (the best of both worlds). The pot belly is obviously a later addition, so someone (DOC) has been keeping up the upkeep. The hut is not lined but is insulated and has a sink, two bunks (makeshift), table, armchair (also makeshift), glass in the window. and a proper floor (none of these cheap dirt floors!!). I did not see a hut book and I doubt there would be one, the door doesn't have a lock so the hut is accessible.
I have deliberately avoided revealing too much about the whereabouts of the hut, as Matt and I feel the less who know about it, the better it is for the buts preservation. The hut is not easy to find, it is set in from the river and takes time to find, and when the river is up it is completely inaccessible. All I can reveal is that it is in the Tararua Ranges, which goes to show that even Chris McLean (author of recent Tararua book) doesn't know everything there is to know about the Tararua's, or maybe he does know of the buts existence, and he doesn't want to see it go either.
Proof-read for grammatical correctness and to make sure not too revealing
-Matt Ravlich
It began at Ohau roadend on Easter Thursday, already dark but quite warm as Eric Duggan and I started off across the paddocks to the track's start. When I discovered we were walking in a Bull paddock I armed myself with one of the 1.5m marker poles and scuttled along the fence line. Several hours were spent getting to Waiopehu Hut to get the boring stuff over and done with on Thursday night.
On Friday morning our epic began. We walked along to Oriwa Ridge Biv and autographed the logbook. We then spent some time looking for the spur down to Otaki River, hearing some stags roaring on the way. The route down Murray's Creek Spur was surprisingly well marked leading us to the upper Otaki River, a beautiful spot. We found the old Upper Otaki Hut site and ate lunch there before heading up the closed trick onto Kelleher; a very well marked and easy to follow route. We then raced along Dracophyllum Ridge to Nichols arriving at 5pm. That had only taken us 9 hours and being braindead we decided to head for Carkeek in the dark.
Half way down to Park Forks it turned dark and we lost the track ending up at the Waiohine River south of Park Forks. We did some tired old calculations and after following an old track up, downclimbing bluffs and creeks and finally wading a slightly swollen Waiohine River we arrived at what we thought was Park Forks. We bush bashed straight up for several hours before reaching a ridge line rather unlike Carkeek Ridge. We reached the bushline and realised we were on Dorset Ridge and finally bivvied there at 2am after just over 18 hours.
We got up later that morning and skipped around to Dorset Ridge Hut to cook breakfast before making good time to Tarn Ridge Hut and on to the Waiohine Pinnacles. We descended Pinnacle Spur and got to Arete Forks Hut just before night fall. There were some hunters staying at the hut who unusually for hunters were really friendly and talkative.
The last day was supposed to be our easy day. We got up late (we were a bit soft) and walked along to Cow Creek Hut. The Arete Forks - Cow Creek track was a delight, with plentiful supplies of treefalls, stinging nettles and bastard grass. We then climbed up to Blue Range from Cow Creek, and visited the very nice and just done up Blue Range Hut. Then we set off down to Kiriwhakapapa roadend and just as we were about to run back to Wellington, Erie's parents coincidentally arrived and took us home. I thoroughly recommend it for 'Freshers'.
On the last weekend of March I set out on the club trip to Otaki Forks, intending to do a nice loop round the main range from Waitewaewae back to Otaki Forks. The other people in my group were Jonathan Clarke and Richard Allan, who had other ideas about where we should go. AS Craig drove us and the other groups to Otaki Forks in his van, Richard suggested that we should go to Nichols on Friday night, visit Carkeek on Saturday, and come back on Sunday. Jonathan and I briefly considered his plan and told him he was a mad bastard.
We left Otaki Forks for Waitewaewae at 8pm and since it was such a beautiful starlit night, to appease Richard we said we would consider his plan at Waitewaewae. After a nice three and a half hour stroll and not even noticing how high the river we crossed was in the dark, we reached the hut. Jonathan and I were feeling full of energy for some strange reason, and to Richard's delight we agreed to go to Nichols that night. The only tramper and his dog at the hut wished us luck (he must have thought we were mad) as we set off at midnight for the 1000m climb up Junction Knob.
The initial climb was rather pleasant as we conserved our energy for the rest of the night, but as we neared the bushline the temperature dropped and it started to rain. We stumbled out onto Shoulder Knob in our storm gear to be met by driving rain and strong winds and groveled through the weather up to Junction Knob at 3am. It was then just as he was about to be made airborne by the wind that Richard suggested we head for Anderson's Hut instead. As it was only 40 minutes away we reluctantly agreed and headed off.
At about 4am we realised we had gone straight ahead off the main spur and were now heading for the Waiohine River, as Jonathan could see the main range on our right. This forced us to bush-bash and sidle through leatherwood to get back onto the track. Just before 6am in the light of dawn we spotted Anderson's Hut just ahead of us so we raced off hoping to find a nice empty hut.
When we entered the hut we found it had three DOC workers who were in pit and all their gear was strewn round the bunks. One of the workers grunted at us as they went back to sleep. Richard decided to move gear off one of the bunks and climb into his pit. I went to sleep on the floor and Jonathan decided to investigate the most comfortable position to sleep on a bench. We didn't really get any long periods of sleep, not like the DOC workers who spent all day in bed with one of them getting up to make them all food. While we were there they may have had three sentences worth of conversation with each other, if that.
At 2pm we decided to get up as it had stopped raining outside. We ate some food, decided to head for Nichols and left at 3pm. The weather was not much better with it still being windy, but at least it wasn't dark and we got to the hut at 5.30pm to find to our relief there were no DOC workers there. It was here we discovered a horrible crime had taken place. Someone had ripped out the pages from the log book of my last visit to Nichols. Richard made sure that he left a suitable comment for the people who done this. After dinner we briefly considered the idea of getting up early and going to Carkeek on the way out on Sunday, but we weren't that mad. The only person up early was Richard at lam to finish off the dinner because he felt hungry.
On Sunday we got up late and didn't leave until 9am so we thought we
better rush out so we didn't miss our ride home at 5pm. As it turned out
we got out at 3pm in plenty of time and had to wait for Jeremy's group
anyway.
Two Beautiful and Brave Fair Maidens Traverse the Tararuas
Planning an early start in the morning we hit pit early. Our nights sleep was ruined by two young eelers who had the fire going all night and who couldn't walk from the bunks to the bench without dropping their cooker twice. Revenge was in our dreams.
We arrived at Nichols at 3:34 pm and decided to spend the afternoon in the sun there taking in more views and writing abusive messages in the hut log book (along the lines of 'ha, ha, ha Chris we'll beat you to Carkeek!). Dinner that night involved a stocktake of our food situation as the planned route had changed. So after only two days food rationing was in place.
The plan for the day was to have lunch at Carkeek and then head around the tops to New Tarn Ridge Hut and with the time being 9:15 am and Carkeek only a few hours away this seemed likely. But Vivien was feeling very ill so she jumped into her sleeping bag (and about four layers of clothing!) and fed on hot chocolate and noodles, she slept for a couple of hours.
The sandflies were out in force at Park Forks that morning. Kim had told Viv that you should eat lots of marmite a couple of days before going tramping as sandflies don't like that vitamin B that is in it. Apparently a few days after eating marmite it is emitted somehow from your body. We didn't have a few days, so instead of eating the marmite we spread it on us like sunscreen. Apart from the sandflies that landed on us and got stuck in the marmite and died, we discovered that this is not a good method of insect repellent.
By lunchtime Viv was feeling better so after more food we headed up Carkeek ridge. The route up the ridge goes through some of the most beautiful scenery I have ever seen in the Tararuas. Every so often you can stop off the side of the track and get a view up to Nichols and the steep drop down to the forks.
Before too long a clearing emerged and behind a misty glow of soft billowing whispers of cloud, a small hut with pink trim could be seen. It was true. Carkeek was not just some strange vision in Chris Fitz's imagination. It existed. The thrill didn't last too long. It was just another hut but in a prime location. We made dinner and sat on the helipad to eat it surrounded by hills on all sides. The weather was still clear and we had views of Drac Ridge, Oriwa Ridge, Tarn Ridge, Mitre and south to Mt Crawford and the Tararua Peaks.
We were a day behind our original schedule but that didn't matter. We were looking forward to some other company and were expecting Nigel and Tony to turn up that day. They arrived during dinner with Dave, Sarah and Craig. This was good as we had no dessert and Dave and Tony had a cheesecake and instant pud which we were fed in bed.
The weather started to clear around 2:00 in the afternoon but the wind had got up and was a lot stronger. On getting out of the fly we discovered we were on the northern slopes of Thompson, almost directly opposite Arete and Pukeinatawai overlooking the headwaters of the Park river. Had we continued down the spur we were on that is probably where we would have ended up. We could occasionally see Lancaster through the clag and decided to wait until it had cleared some more before leaving so we sat and watched a group in the distance travel from Arete to Pukinatawai and on to Te Matawai which was also visible in the distance.
At about 4:00 pm we decided it had cleared sufficiently and prepared to leave. We tramped about 100 metres across the saddle to the base of Lancaster and started to go up. After a few minutes we were both being blown over and sat at the bottom to see if the wind was going to drop at all. It didn't so we made camp on the narrow saddle between Lancaster and Thompson. With nothing else to do we got back into pit to wait for the radio sched. Dinner was marmite and cheese sandwiches as we didn't want to waste fuel or water cooking. On the radio we told Bob we were going out via Arete, Te Matawai and South Ohau. The wind was still around gale force and it rained heavily during the night.
We only got confused twice more on the way to New Tarn Ridge, somewhere around the site of the old hut where the clag made me so disorientated that I got out my compass to make sure the other one was working, and again after passing the cross where we left the track and headed off down the ridge. We finally made it safely to New Tarn Ridge, had a feed and decided as it was only midday to go to Mitre Flats. The clag was occasionally clearing but we had both been along the route before and felt reasonably confident we wouldn't end up at Jumbo instead!
Got over Mitre and were relieved to arrive at Mitre Flats Hut down from the tops at last. There was a new man on the radio that night, Don. It was not easy trying to explain to him how two people who were meant to be at South Ohau were on the other side of the park at Mitre Flats. Had another chat to Bob who was intrigued about how we got there, and then went to bed.