Last time we left our heroes, Em was lying sprawled on her pack in a dry streambed and Jay was happily munching on a muesli bar.
Silence spread over the forest in a suffocating blanket. Not one sound
emerged from the damp tangled undergrowth, bar the muffled roar of the
Otaki River.
“OK. Step One...” said Em, “What do we know? We are not tired yet and
have a vague idea of how to relocate the track. Therefore I suggest we
try to keep moving despite the old Stay Still when Lost theory. We can
still hear the Otaki river which is good. We must be up on this spur here
and therefore we should set off in a, um, er, hang on. . . “
Em looked at the set of hieroglyphics that was her map. “No, I’ve got
it, an Easterly direction!” She finished triumphantly.
Em, you forgot to orientate your map.”
“Oh. Yeah well, I knew that!”
Jay took the map and studied it closely. “I believe we’re higher up
than you think. Let’s start moving down towards the river.”
Heaving on their packs, the two girls began to bash down the side of
the spur. The supplejack tore at their legs and caught at their packs making
progress slow.
“ Down” gasped Em, “we must get down!” Suddenly she slid five metres
into a collection of Ponga trees and epiphytes. “Em. Em! Are you all right?”
called Jay.
“Yes. I’m fine. Guess what? I can hear water! We must be near a stream!”
“Thank God!” said Jay.
They made their way down to a small streambed. Relief flooded them as
they knew they could follow it down to the river and would consequently
come across the track. All went well except that Em fell into some stinging
nettles and had red welts on her head for a few hours. Soon they found
the track and continued to the next slip. Em climbed over the edge, saw
the steepness and did the biggest pike of her life.
Jay looked at Em, Em looked at Jay.
“We’re going to have to turn back, aren’t we?”said Jay resignedly.
They went down to the river and began to follow it back up to Penn
Creek. They crossed safely many times as the river was clear and low, until
they came to a large pool surrounded by high cliffs.
“Now what do we do?”
“I guess we’ll have to swim.”
“Wot, you mean swim upriver? Are you mad!?”
“Yeah, look, ta daaa!” Em whipped out her lucky yellow nylon rope from
her outside pocket.Jay gave her a Look. It was a Look that said: O no.
I have gone tramping with an escaped lunatic.
“I’ll swim first to that rock, you tie the packs and I’ll drag them
up, then you join me. That way they won’t get too wet.”
The sun was warm, the water was ice.
Em reached the rock, took the rope from her teeth and threw it.
“Oh drat. I forgot to hold onto one end. Hang on.” Quickly she jumped
in the water and grabbed the trailing rope.” By this time both girls were
in fits of giggles. Jay tied on Em’s pack and pushed it into the water.
With much laughter Jay finally got in the water, climbed up beside Em and
they set off again.
Meanwhile, back at Penn Creek, the youngest of the three Musketeers
had climbed to the top of the slip for a photo opportunity. Suddenly without
warning he slipped and fell. Sharp scree etched its name in his flesh and
large rocks hungered to rip him apart as he rolled down.
“Hi guys! You still here?”
Jay and Em reached the hut.
“We’re going back up to Table top, the slips are a bit gnarly today!
Where are you heading?” Jay said cheerfully.
The boys said, “One of us has had an accident. We were hoping you’d
come back!”
“Shit!” said Jay, “Where is he?”
“Oh. Um. Inside on the bunk. He’s okay, I mean he just had a fall but
he’s okay.”
The girls went in to see him lying on the bunk.
“Hi” he grinned weakly “ I had a bit of a fall.”
“Are you okay?” asked Jay.
“Oh yeah, I’ve had worse wounds from footy!” But his voice was shaky
and he looked pale.
“Can I have a look at you?” asked Jay.
“Yeah, go ahead.” he said, wincing as he moved.
Jay lifted back the sleeping bag to reveal a body criss-crossed in
scrapes and scratches. But more horrifying was the inch deep, long wound
in his shin, slowly but surely becoming crusted with blood clots. Luckily
it was not bleeding heavily.
“Oh God.” whispered Jay.
“I’ll get on the radio,” said Em. Jay checked him over for breaks and
concussion but apart from the wound he was fine. She washed all the scrapes
and expertly sterilised and bandaged the larger wound. Soon he was trying
out his leg but was still in shock, so Jay made him lie down again.
Meanwhile, Em was feeling really stupid. She didn’t realise that Wellington
base only listened in at a certain time and she was busy talking to Napier!
She didn’t like to say it was an emergency because it wasn’t. She was left
on standby for over an hour. Finally she gave up and they decided that
they would go to Field and radio at their call in time even though they
were supposed to be out.
With instructions to keep him resting and to feed him chocolate and
fluids, they left and made their way to Table top where they had a long
rest watching the view in the sun. By five o’clock they reached Field to
have dinner. There were many people there including a SAR man, whom they
told about the boys at Penn Creek.
“We weren’t sure if they could walk out or not, so we thought we'd
radio tonight,” they said.
“Yep, do that and I might pop down to see them tomorrow.” he said.
At eight they made their call.
“JG 30. Hi, how are you. Fine, good, hear from you tomorrow night.
JG 31. JG 31 this is JG base, over?”
Silence. Base repeated but there was no reply. “Quick, go now! said
Em.
“JG base, this is JG 38 over?"
“Er. Okay JG 38, you’re supposed to be out by now.”
“We’re at Field, can we talk to you please?”
“Okay, after the calls.”
So, after all the calls and responses were made, Jay explained the
situation to Base telling them about the boys at Penn Creek. Finally she
was asked to give their contact name.
“Their contact name is Ian Fremdworth, over.”
“Dion Fremdworth, over?”
“No, Ian, over?”
“Leon, over”
“No, IAN! Over?”
“I’m sorry, can you repeat please, over.”
“IAN” said another caller who was listening in on the conversation.
“Okay. Got that thanks, we’ll pass the message on.”
Phew! It was out of their hands. Two tired girls happily started down
from Field at 9 pm, blissfully unaware that their part in the drama was
not yet over. Through darkening trees they saw the last sunset of 1995.
Halfway down Em began to complain that her boots were too tight. Two
hours later, she was hobbling, crabbing sideways like the Hunchback of
Notre Dame as her feet screamed in agony. It was 11:30 pm.
“We’ve got to make it to the bridge before midnight!” said Jay. Em
got slower and slower and began hopping, jumping, sliding, anything to
take the pain away.
11:40 pm: “Nearly there.” Jay could see the Otaki River glinting in
the moonlight.
They had a quick stop on a grassy hill and the warm breeze lulled them
to sleep. The sky was sparkling with a multitude of diamonds spread thickly
across the black cloth of night. To stay here forever....thought Em.
11:45 pm: “QUICK!” Fifteen minutes until 1996!” said Jay jerking Em
from her reverie. “Ow, ow, oww!” Em limped down the hill with unavoidable
tears in her eyes while Jay made sympathetic noises. Exhausted beyond feeling
they stumbled onto the Otaki Forks Bridge two minutes before midnight.
Jay fell and lay on the bridge breathing in the night air and thinking:
I just did a 14 hour day. My God.
Em tore at her boots laces with nails and teeth like a wild animal,
eased off her boots and moaned to see that her toenails were black. Her
feet ached and ached, rubbed raw by leather and squashed beyond repair.Together
they began the count down.
Midnight: Silence. The rush of the river beneath. They watched as time
rolled over and spread out in a world of new beginnings.
Slowly they made their way to a grassy patch. Em faltered with every step. They put up the fly, made hot chocolate and talked about things. After making resolutions for the coming year and a brief account of their trip, they slept. And slept. And slept.
Jan 1, 1996: 10 am.
Em woke to the sun shining heavily through purple nylon. Jay was up
and while Em dressed she went to telephone her Dad. She returned half an
hour later.
“The boys got home.” she began. “They were choppered out this morning.”
“Oh good!” Em enthused.
“But. I had to ring the police and let them know what happened. They
had your name from the radio service! There was a sign on the bridge for
us to contact the ranger because, WE FORGOT TO SIGN IN AT HIS HOUSE!! And
the police were awfully annoyed because they didn’t know what was happening
or where we were!”
Em looked at her in dismay. “How awful! How embarrassing. What shall
I do?”
“Don’t worry, it’s all sorted out now, I talked to them and the story
is straight. I don’t understand why they didn’t know where we were, I was
very clear about where we were going! All they needed to know was that
the boys were at Penn Creek. . . "
“Oh well. I’ve learnt my lesson. Always, always, ALWAYS sign in at
the entrance. I can’t believe we forgot!”
And so, Jay and Em packed up and returned to Mr. Legge’s house where
they spent the afternoon white-water rafting. (Do these guys ever stop?
Put that in your pipe and smoke it Adrian P. - ed.)
Jay and Em did some really stupid things on this trip but they were
not entirely without reason. I leave it up to you to judge their actions
accordingly.
The curtain now closes on the Epic adventures of Jay and Em, to be
reopened at another time.
THE END
NB. When Em arrived home she was attacked by her family on the grounds of unknown policemen ringing the house at 1 o’clock in the morning to let them know she was having trouble in the bush. Em’s recorded statement is as follows - “ ! ! ! ! ? !”
At Queen’s Birthday weekend 1995 Adrian Barr and I had a mission to get to Whatiuru Biv. This biv was situated on the banks of the Otaki river near to where Whatiuru Creek entered it. It did not appear on any maps of the area so the temptation to bag it was too great, even if it meant heading out into a heavy snow warning, for the ranges of the North Island.
The plan was to head up to Kime Hut on Saturday night, then on Sunday go along the main range until Pakihore Ridge. We would continue down the ridge until we were a couple of hundred metres above the Otaki River and then cut down into Whatiuru creek, join the Otaki and then find the Biv. After that we would go to Penn Creek Hut for the night, via Pakihore Ridge again, and then out on Monday.
On Saturday morning I found myself in Bivouac in Wellington hastily buying a pair of cheap over trousers as it had rained all the night before and with the low temperature I realised there could be a bit of snow on the tops.
Saturday evening Adrian and I pulled into the carpark at Otaki Forks and after signing the intentions book set of for Field and then Kime. The temperature was cold but it was not raining and we could see quite a few stars. We sped upwards to Field as we were eagerly anticipating a starlit journey through the snow once we got above the bushline. We encountered the first snow on the ground at Tirotiro Knob, just before Field Hut at about 850m altitude.
Although it was reasonably cold at Field the weather was still calm and settled so we continued on to Kime Hut at about 9 pm. There was a reasonable amount of snow on Table Top and around Dennan but not enough to make travel too slow or difficult. The weather was still fine and calm with lots of stars out. We soon reached Bridge Peak and a large increase in the amount of snow on the track. We moved along slowly looking for the snow stakes and came to a bit of mist. Then about a couple of minutes later we suddenly found ourselves in the middle of a full on southerly storm.
The storm had come out of nowhere and we found ourselves struggling to find the track in deteriorating visibility and extremely cold and strong winds. It was impossible to find the track or where we were meant to be going in the conditions and we were starting to get very cold. We decided it was too risky stumbling on so we headed off the ridge to try and get to the bushline and out of the storm. The ridge plunged off at about 30 degrees and there were snow drifts up to waist deep (a pity I didn’t have my skis) that we fell down. After about 150 - 200m vertical we thought we had better stop as it looked steep and bluffy below us. We were still above the bushline and in quite an exposed spot (but not as bad as on the top).
We had no option but to bivvy here, so we grabbed our sleeping bags and then our bivvy bags. We had them done up tight so we were completely cocooned. Luckily Adrian was borrowing Jonathan’s bivvy for this trip. It snowed continuously and the wind stayed strong all night but it was impossible to sleep as you couldn’t breathe properly with your head stuck under the sleeping bag and bivvy bag.
Unfortunately I did not have a snow foam with me so I was more or less just sleeping on snow especially with all the extra snow falling. My upper body was warm but my back was freezing with no insulation. Just before dawn I started to shiver uncontrollably and Adrian asked if I was all right. I said I was fine but he thought it would be good if we shared a sleeping bag to warm me up and we would get going when it was light enough.
Within half an hour it was light enough to leave and I had warmed up considerably. All our stuff, our sleeping bags, packs and everything else were buried under at least 15 cm of fresh snow. We put on all our clothes we had (this included two fleeces and polypro for me) and stuffed our sleeping bags that were full of snow into our packs. I ended up losing a glove and a Swiss army knife in the snow. We then had to climb the 200m back up to the top with an extra 15 cm of snow at least on top of what was there already.
Climbing back up through the snow was a real mission because you sank up to your waist in it and were fighting against it moving up hill. We had to drag ourselves along with our hands because we could not move our legs properly in the snow. Once we got back up to Bridge Peak we were amazed at how much snow had fallen over night. As soon as we got off the top of it and left the snow stakes behind it was impossible to find the track as there was snow everywhere. Getting past Dennan and on to Table Top was even worse than getting back up on to Bridge Peak. Where there was hollows in the ground they were full of snow drifts over a metre deep which you got stuck in. It was also very tiring ploughing through the snow, especially since we had not had anything to eat.
After several hours we were relieved to reach Table Top and leave the deep snow drifts behind. We could see Kapakapanui and it was covered in heaps of snow. It did not take us long to get down to Field Hut from there.
The people staying at Field were surprised to hear where we had spent the night and even more so, to see us emptying piles of snow from our sleeping bags and packs. It was still cold at Field Hut and we tried to warm up in front of the fire there. After about an hour we left for the forks. We returned back to the warmth of my car and were back in Wellington in less than 24 hours from when we set off.
Unfortunately we never got to Whatiuru Biv and it was taken out this year.
One of the more hair-brained impulse schemes I’ve successfully done started, as per usual, as I drifted off to sleep one Thursday evening. The plan was: to work Saturday, catch a train to Masterton, ride my bicycle into Holdsworth and tramp to Jumbo that evening. Sunday would consist of catching up with the Carkeek Hut Maintenance trip on their way back out. Monday would be to walk out with the others.
It, as all good plans do, relied on several important factors and if they weren’t perfect I decided I’d flag it away. Firstly, the train had to leave at the right time. If it didn’t, I didn’t feel like walking all night to get to shelter. Secondly, I needed a light pack, like really light. There was no way I was going to pedal to Holdsworth with a big pack, so I needed to borrow stuff. Lastly, if the Wellington weather forecast was no good I may as well have gone tramping since Baring Head is no good except in good weather.
I packed Friday night fitting everything into my Pursuit with a little space left over. The train left at an okay time and I’d conned Chris (Boys) into lending me his light sleeping bag and Rachel into lending me her bowl. On Saturday I didn't feel quite 100% and I was worried about slaughtering myself rather than enjoying the trip. However, my boss very generously lent me his light weight gas stove and a stainless steel bowl and by the time I got home I felt good. So I re-packed, saving more space and weight and headed off to the train station.
The Masterton train is quite cool, well worth doing and doesn’t cost
too much either - pity about the last stop though! It's about now that
I realise I’d forgotten to tell Mike that I’d actually gone - never mind
I’ll phone from the road end. The ride to Holdsworth was slow to say the
least. It must be more than 15 kms or else I was going very slow. (What
a legend - ed.)
My car parked at the road end was a welcome sight, so too was the bike
rack in the boot, at least I could get my bike home. Time to ditch the
bike, leave a note and start tramping but first ring Mike. Don’t count
on using the Holdsworth phone if you need to ring transport as it only
dials 111 or anywhere in Masterton. Damn! Oh well, leave a detailed message
in the log book and she’ll be right.
By now it was raining steadily and I was quite keen to get moving on to Atiwhakatu hut. The track is now warp factor nine and only once did I get confused as the river made a huge bend. The rain got steadily heavier until I was soaked through. I figured I’d stop at Atiwhak if there was company. I arrived there at 10.30 pm to a warm hut and two fathers with their 5 or 6 year old daughters all asleep. I stretched out and settled in for what was a long night. One of the daughters fell off the top bunk in the middle of the night, to be rescued by a bottom bunk father. She remembered nothing of this in the morning.
My alarm went off just as I dozed off to sleep. So I killed it and carried on sleeping. Up and away by 7:30 am to Jumbo. Breakfast completely disagreed with me and I grovelled my way up Raingauge spur. Jumbo finally arrived and the first stop was the dunny. There were four people plus a warden at Jumbo who all kept asking me if I was doing a day trip around the loop. I admitted no and stated I was quite keen to get to Dorset. After more food, a hot brew and a discouraging weather forecast I was on my way.
Angle knob came and went in the hour and the race between me and the
closing weather began. I figured I’d be okay if I could cross McGregor
and the Broken Axe Pinnacles before the bad weather arrived at mid day.
McGregor , BAP, South King, Mid King all came and went and all I thought
was:
- okay, take it easy here
- drink lots
- stay warm
- oh, nice view
- this is fantastic
- good time
or - careful now, don’t fall
Aarggh it’s hailing! Well the freezing level was supposed to be 1200 - 1500m! Sweet, this navigation thing is no worries - until I trundled off the spur to Mid King Biv. Man this is steep, it goes down a long way, am I sure this is right?
Umm. Must be. Just down a bit further and check it out. Hey that looks familiar! Damn, it’s Mid King Biv. Bugger! Okay it’s 11:40 am, probably been going 20 minutes, it will take about 40 mins back to the top.
Back at the top the clouds parted long enough to suss out the rest of the way and onward I went.
A clap of thunder had dropped me to my stomach. Don’t get zapped by lightning - that would be bad! (I sympathise - ed.)
A five minute food break between Adkin and Girdlestone and I continued up the hill. Another momentary lapse of reason found me at the bottom of Brockett cursing my sense of direction. Back to Girdlestone. I’d decided to head to Tarn Ridge hut for a proper lunch break and then head back to Dorset Ridge after leaving a message. With the sight of Tarn Ridge I also caught sight of four people - blue pack and red jacket and another bod with a small pack.
“Yo, Chris!” I yell - they all stop.
I’m elated to finally see some other people, especially the people I planned to catch up with and run down to meet them. All I have to add is this, solo tramping is interesting but it makes you more aware of looking after yourself, making sure you don’t slip over or catch hypothermia or collapse of exhaustion.
This was a full-on trip to do solo and I was really lucky with the weather plus I’d been across those tops before. The best idea is to take a mountain radio and go where you have previously been or are happy going. But personally, I think it’s the people that make the trip.
Saturday
Everyone going down south met at the ferry terminal and then proceeded down south on the 9:30 am sailing. In Picton the different groups set off in different vans going to Flora Saddle, Cobb Dam and Rolling Junction. My group (Adrian, Julian and I) were in the same van as Jeremy's group (Natt and Dave) heading for Rolling Junction although we were not a group in the formal sense led by a team leader. We were more of a dynamic interaction of different and varied tramping skills which were to become apparent over the following week.
Our van driver was pissed and the needle marks down his arm led Adrian and I to believe that he was tripping as well. First of all we took the scenic route to Rolling Junction road end and ended up in St. Arnaud. After this interesting detour we were wondering what would happen next when suddenly we failed to negotiate a corner and ended up sliding sideways and going oppo-locko* in the gravel on the side of the road. It seemed our driver had failed to adjust his speed for the corner and if it wasn't for a wide section of gravel on the side we would have been off the road. About 10 minutes after this we had the maps out ourselves and we were off in the right direction.
We eventually reached the road end and once again our driver drove straight past it. After finding a suitable point to turn around we headed back to the road end and we were finally off the van and ready to start tramping. The weather was perfect and on our journey in there was plenty of evidence of the cold weather of the past couple of weeks before the trip. In several locations there was still snow in the shade on the side of the road and quite a bit on the visible peaks. Jeremy's group were going to stay in a hut at the road end that night but decided to come with us to Kings Creek hut for the night.
The sun was starting to go down and we set off with about half an hour of daylight left. It did not take us long to encounter the first hoar frost. Anywhere that was not exposed to direct sunlight was completely frozen, testimony to the fine days and cool nights of the last couple of days. as soon as it got dark we realised how cold it had been, without the sun the temperature was near freezing. The track was easy and well maintained so it did not take us long to reach the bridge over the Wangapeka river. Within half an hour of the bridge we came to our destination for the night, Kings Creek hut. There were a couple of school age children with their mother staying in the hut. They provided the numbers for a game of black bitch after dinner.
Sunday
Sunday morning was a clear and cool start with brilliantly fine weather. Adrian and I were keen to get away and get onto the tops and into the snow later on in the day. After a somewhat leisurely breakfast we headed off leaving Jeremy, Dave and Natt behind -still finishing their breakfast.
5 minutes from the hut we came to the historic old Kings creek hut. From here the track continued to follow the Wangapeka river. The whole setting is beautiful and every now and then we got views of the tops that were packed with snow. Any part of the track that was shaded from the sun was completely frozen.
It took us a couple of hours to reach Stone hut. This is a beautiful spot and the ground around the hut was white and covered in frost. There were a couple of spots next to the river in the sun which we warmed ourselves up in. Past Stone hut we started our first climb of the trip up to Wangapeka saddle. It was only a gentle zig zag climb though, nothing compared to any of the Tararua grunts, (could have fooled me, it hurts -ed). At the top of the saddle we encountered our first snow at a height of about 1000m. After a brief stop and leaving a message in the snow for Jeremy's group we continued up towards the bushline and onto Biggs tops.
As we climbed higher through the bush the snow depth began to increase a lot and the track became slippery and a bit of a grunt. We soon reached the bushline and after negotiating some hard snow with ice axes we stopped for lunch. This route above the bush was poled along to the high point of Biggs tops. We were a bit hesitant about which route to follow but eventually followed the poles, sidling under some bluffs and across a small basin. From the high point of the route we had nearly 360 degree views of snow covered peaks. We were tempted to spend the rest of the afternoon playing around in the snow and I wished I had my skis with me. It would have been perfect weather to spend a night out on the tops in the snow. A bit further round we had good views into the Karamea river valley and north towards The Twins. The drop down to the Karamea river was just on 1000m and reasonably steep. The track came out next to the Karamea river and we continued down the river for 10 minutes to Luna hut. The sun had left the valley and the temperature was quite cold. Under the shadow of the mountains where the sun didn't reach everything was frozen white by hoar frost. We decided not to stay at Luna hut and crossed the Karamea river to head upstream to Trevor Carter hut.
The Karamea was thigh deep where we crossed and although slow moving it was freezing. Over the other side of the river we were under the shade of the peaks and everything was frozen. By this time we were in darkness and it took us about 30 minutes to find Trevor Carter hut.
It was here that Julian first showed us his great pyromaniac ability (fetish? -ed). It was not very warm at all and a fire was most welcome. Even when Julian had worked his magic and got a fire going we were huddled up close to it as it only just kept going. It was good to finish dinner and get into the warmth of pit for the night.
Monday
The next morning everything inside the hut was frozen. Our boots were frozen solid and the water in our billy and water bottles had frozen also. We took our time over breakfast, waiting for the sun to come out and boiling water to defrost our boots. The river banks were sandy but these were frozen solid also. All around the hut everything was white and frozen and we saw that the sun never reached it in winter.
We set off down the river in brilliant sunshine which was a welcome relief after a cold night. The track was through beautiful forest and followed the river. One of the best aspects was the amount of bird life in the bush. We stopped for lunch at Thor hut and then continued on to Venus hut for the night.
Venus hut is a two storey hut, the bottom part is the original hut and the top storey the new extension. It is in an awesome location next to where Venus creek enters the Karamea river through a little gorge. There is a big grassy area above the grassy area which proved to be perfect for hackey sack until we lost it in the gorge. From the same spot you look down into the river in which we saw 4 or 5 big trout swimming around in a pool.
The best thing about Venus hut is the Kent wood burner, once again Julian worked his magic and got an awesome fire going. One of the worst things though is having a warm fire at night and waking up to a freezing hut because the fire has burnt out - but we didn't let this happen. With the Kent we just set it on low and left it going all night. Anyone who got up in the night put a log on the fire and in the morning we just turned the burner up to high. (The hut was still sweltering when we passed through a few hours later- ed).
Tuesday
We continued down the river towards Karamea Bend. We stopped at Crow hut for lunch, a hut which is similar in design to Thor and Venus huts.
All the way down the river we would stop in places and you would see trout in the river and once or twice we saw blue ducks. At Karamea Bend the river broadens and it looks like it is about to enter the sea. There is a primo hut for D.O.C workers in a great location above the river but it is locked. Just past the hut is a sign saying 5 minutes to Karamea Bend hut. 20 minutes later we arrived at the hut.
Karamea Bend hut was the biggest disappointment of the trip. We were expecting another awesome hut in a great location. The location sucked, it didn't' get any sun and the hut was a dive. We unpacked all our gear because we were thinking of doing a day trip to Roaring Lion hut the next day. After 1/2 an hour in the hut we decided to move on, partially due to reading in the hut book about dead rats falling out of the ceiling. We set off for Leslie Clearing hut which wasn't very far up the Leslie river.
Not very far from Karamea Bend we passed a hunter who told us he was staying at Leslie Clearing hut. It took us only about an hour to get there. It was smaller than Karamea Bend hut, being a six bunker, but in far better condition. Not long after another hunter turned up at the hut who was with the one we had seen earlier.
Like a lot of the huts in the area Leslie Clearing had its own weka. Sure enough, it came out to meet us and was eating right out of Adrian's hand.
Both the hunters staying at the hut were back at about dinner time. They turned out to be real hard case and quite a laugh. After their meal they smoked a lot of dak and then got their guns and went to check their possum lines. We were worried that they might get paranoid in their stoned state and come back and shoot us.
Wednesday
We had decided not to go to Roaring Lion hut at all. Instead we were going up to Baton saddle and down to Flanagans hut for the night. Just past Leslie Clearing the track turned right and went up Wilkinson creek. It was quite an easy gradient to start with but soon we encountered a lot of stinging nettle. The track soon became quite broken with large boulders as it headed up through a section of bluffs. Above this we came onto a large plateau before we hit a steep section of a couple of hundred metres before the bushline.
We encountered quite a lot of snow just short of the bushline and we emerged from the bush into deep snow. For the first time on the trip it wasn't a brilliantly fine day and it was very overcast although clear. It was a bit of a struggle up through soft snow but we soon got up onto Baton saddle. It was quite windy and cold so we didn't hang around long. From the saddle there are good views over mountains to the west, east down the Baton river, which is sourced from the saddle, and towards Flanagans hut.
We bashed a route through waist deep snow following poles off the saddle down to the river. From here it was a pleasant trip through the snow and across the valley to the bushline and Flanagans hut. Flanagans hut was rebuilt only a few years ago and being in quite a remote position it was in immaculate condition. Just like Venus hut it had a Kent burner which was good to find. The hut was also in a great location. Above the river, just out of the bush and with views up the valley to Baton saddle. We spent the night in the hut with a great fire, again thanks to Julian. The alarm was set early for 6 am so we could get up onto the saddle early and we went to sleep with rain just starting to fall.
Thursday
The alarm woke us up early in the dark but in a warm hut, thanks to the Kent burner. We had a look outside and it had started to snow. We decided to have breakfast and wait and see what the weather was like when it got light. When it got light enough we saw that the weather was pissed. It was snowing heavily with some really long flakes coming down. We went inside and decided it would not be a good idea to go back over Baton saddle. It had probably been snowing up there for several hours and visibility would be zero. We weren't very happy about the possibility of avalanches either. Our only option was to head down the Baton river to the road end. Unfortunately looking at the map we saw that it was a long way from anywhere so we would have a big road bash also.
It didn't take us long to leave and by this stage it was dumping snow, there was heaps outside the hut and it looked really scenic. We set off through the trees which were heavy with snow. We had read bad comments in the log books about the track but the first bit was good. The snow continued down for a long way to an elevation of about 500m. Below this it had changed into cold steady rain. By this stage the river had broadened quite a bit and had a lot of water in it. Around here we had a few problems with the track disappearing and then finding it again on the other side of the river.
After a couple of hours we came out of the bush and crossed the river via a bridge to connect with a 4wd track. We followed this for about 1/2 an hour until we came to the road end, but first we had to cross a ford through the river. the crossing was dodgy to say the least, with the river in semi-flood stage at this point. Across the other side of the river we had a look around at the hills about us and could see the snow down to about 450m.
There was absolutely nothing at the road end; only a few empty houses, so we set off on our road bash. At this stage it started raining heavily and could only have been a couple of degrees above freezing. The road kept on winding and seemed to go on forever in the bleak conditions. We were starting to get cold so we stopped for a feed and a brew when we came across an empty house with a suitable front porch.
After about 15km on the road we came to a small grouping of farm houses on the side of the road. These houses were occupied and since it was getting late we thought we would ask if they had a woolshed to stay in. The occupants weren't too friendly and sent us down the road suggesting we try another house further down. We cane across a few more houses but they were all empty as well. Eventually we came across another occupied house and Julian and Adrian went in to see the owner. They came out to see me with good news. The owner of the house and her son could give us a ride to Flora Saddle road end as soon as he came back which was where the bus was collecting us on Saturday. While we waited she made us a cup of tea and toast- telling us about her sons who were all trampers.
Her son arrived back at about 7pm and we set off, giving him some money for petrol. He had a ute so Adrian and I rode on the outside and Julian was in the cab. He ripped along the country roads at full speed and we were in the back with the wind and rain whipping into our faces.
The Flora road end is quite high at about 1000m so there was quite a climb up to it. Adrian and I were quite surprised at how steep the road was in places. About 3/4 way up we hit snow and even though the ute was 4wd we soon experienced oppo-locko and slid into a bank. We got out and helped push the ute back onto the road and convinced the driver to turn back and not try and drive up any further. As we headed up the road the snow got deeper and at the carpark we could see lots of cars buried under snow. The snow here was at least 1m deep. We decided to go to Flora Saddle hut which was only a couple of km away. Luckily the track was like a graded road although it was more like a ski trail with over a metre of snow on it. On the walk in to the hut we came across a lot of trees over the track which had collapsed due to the weight of the snow. There was heaps of snow around the hut and in the trees and it was still dumping.
The hut was a bit of a dive but we were glad to have somewhere to spend the night. Julian somehow got the fire going and we had an awesome meal. It had been quite a good day coming from Flanagans hut to Flora Saddle, although it was via a strange route with a 17km road bash and transport to near the road end.
Friday
We woke up in the morning and it was even more amazing in daylight to see how much snow there was. Although this was nothing compared to noise we could hear coming through the forest. It sounded like a war was in progress due to trees continuously collapsing from snow loading. As we had breakfast in the hut we also heard snow sliding off the roof of the hut because of the excessive amount on it. The amount of snow around the hut area really was incredible and I had never seen so much snow down so low and in the trees.
After clearing a path out from the hut we saw a woman and two children turn up. We had decided to go to Mt. Arthur hut and set off on the direct route behind the hut. We didn't get too far though because of collapsed trees and too much snow. This forced us to go back to the carpark and head up to Mt. Arthur hut via the more commonly used track. The track was covered in even more broken branches and trees than the night before and was quite a mission. When we got to the turn off to Mt. Arthur hut we had a bit of a discussion and decided to head back to the carpark. About 5 minutes later we stopped on the track because it had started to clear. Then a whole group of people came along the track and we found out they were OPC members who had been at Mt. Arthur hut. We set off back to the track turn off and we met Chris Fitz's group there. The last of the OPC members passed us and we learnt that 20 of them had come down from the hut. Since so many had come down the track we all decided to go up to the hut for the night. A good track had been carved out by 20 people so it didn't take us long to get up to the hut.
Mt. Arthur hut had a shit load of snow around it and it must have dumped over a metre of snow in 24 hours. We spent the rest of the day keeping warm in the hut and it wasn't too crowded with only 7 people in the 6 bunk hut. After we had all gone to bed two guys turned up in the dark so they also had to sleep on the floor.
Saturday
Saturday morning was fine and clear and we had awesome views of the snow covered landscape. There really was heaps of snow around Mt. Arthur hut. We thought we should get down to the carpark in a hurry as the bus would never get all the way up the road through the snow. Before we left the hut we set off above the hut to get some views of Mt. Arthur.
The views were incredible with clear weather and 360 degree views of snow covered peaks. Chris' group set off early but we stayed up there a lot longer taking in the awesome surroundings.
The trip down was quite wet because of all the snow in the trees melting. We got down to the carpark and there were a few groups there already. After a while the bus driver came up and told us the bus was parked just down the road. It didn't take us long to get down to it and we waited for the other groups to turn up. They all showed eventually although it took a while for Jeremy, Natt and Dave to turn up.
We were:
Eric Duggan
Adrian Barr
Julian Boorman
Our maintenance trip to Carkeek all started with a stop at Placemakers to pick up the paint that we were to use on the trim and door of the hut. It was decided by Caroline, Eric, and myself that the colour Candy Stick (otherwise known as pink) would be appropriate. Having picked this up we began our journey to McDonald’s to meet Chris and Adrian. After McDonald’s we headed for Holdsworth road end, listening to a tape of Eric’s, which he had compiled, because he strongly stated that it would be better than anything that Caroline had to offer. I felt his selection of music was good. However, Caroline had trouble understanding some Cypress Hill songs such as “Insane in the Membrane”.As we were approaching the road end, Eric’s mix took a rather bizarre turn. After the song ‘Asshole’ the song ‘Son of a preacher man’ took centre stage which elicited rather stunned looks from Caroline and myself. Having made it to the road end we all set off for Jumbo via Atiwhakatu Hut. Upon making it to Atiwhakatu Hut Adrian decided that he would have to head back due to illness and so our party of five became four. Eventually we made it to Jumbo and retired to pit.
On Friday we woke early to bright sunshine and Eric’s alarm. After lying in bed for a while, Chris made the move and got up to have breakfast with the rest of us slowly following. Having satisfied our stomachs we set forth on our jaunt to Carkeek. When we arrived at Angle Knob we stopped for a break to absorb the undistorted view of Ruapehu and Egmont. It was during this break that Eric passed the first of his two great quotes. While we were looking at the amount of snow on Egmont, the topic of Matt and Leigh’s trip there came up. Wondering whether they would take ice axes and crampons and what they would do if they hadn’t Eric said “Well, to get that far they need to go that far”. This comment puzzle us all and we still don’t know what he was referring to.
From Angle Knob we headed for McGregor Biv and found that it had been painted and a new water tank installed - much to the delight of Eric. We left the Biv and cruised to Park Forks. After a rest there for a drink and a snack we made our way up to Carkeek and this is when Caroline’s Jona burger had its revenge. As we made our way up the ridge we were accompanied by a chorus of burps. We got to the hut and preceded to scrub it down in preparation for painting the next day.
On Saturday it clagged in but we decided that we would begin to paint the hut hoping that it wouldn’t rain, what fools. It was also on this day that Chris became intensely fascinated by the long drops in the Tararuas visiting them frequently enough that I began to set my watch to his visits.
Chris and Eric began to paint the outside of the hut with the colour sandspit and had just finished the front when it began to rain.Then the weather really crapped out, so we felt that we should try and accomplish something by painting the inside of the hut with candy stick and champagne. Our second big mistake of the day was to sit inside and play five-hundred while the paint dried. This eventuated in us all feeling amazingly happy, although Chris made regular trips outside due to headaches. It was at this time that the Cypress Hill song “Insane in the Membrane” began to make sense. As the night wore on my coordination left me and the game of five-hundred had us in fits of laughter.
On the Sunday we woke early to tidy the hut and finish painting the inside. We left Carkeek on a rather good morning and with Caroline wondering why huts always seemed to look worse after she had worked on them. As we were making our way up the ridge from Carkeek Hut Eric made his second and final quote “I wish the weather was like this today!”. Following this we made it to the spur that had a route down to the Waiohine river. Eric lead the way which resulted in a very interesting trip after he lost the route. We made it down to the river anyway and preceded to make our way up the other side. This time I was entrusted with finding the way (which is always dangerous!). We had only just got under the cover of the trees when the sky opened up and spat hail stones down upon us with great force. This lasted for a good 20 minutes and left the tops looking as though they had snow on them. We made it to the top of Tarn Ridge with relative ease and made our way to Tarn Ridge hut. As we were approaching the hut a lone voice called out to us from a figure coming in the opposite direction. We stopped and watched the figure approach, taking guesses as to who it was. It turned out to be Jeremy Bray. Once in the hut we got a fire going, had lunch and settled into five-hundred. While the game was going Eric and Jeremy began writing their stories for Heels . (Oh you lovely people you - ed.)Jeremy began writing feverously while Eric got writer's block shortly after starting and was stuck looking for longer ways of saying that there was a deer in front of him. Eventually he gave up on his first story and began writing about skiing. (Please note that Eric's writer's block is surprising as he is the main contributer of this magazine - ed.)
The day ended with a huge feed of 1 kg pasta cooked by none other than myself. Eric and I managed to acquire half the meal for ourselves after the others had got their meals. This resulted in Chris asking Eric for some more, which Eric gave him with great regret. Monday we again woke to sunshine and Eric’s alarm. Once packed we waited for Chris’s final inspection of the bog and then left. We made our way out via Baldy to the road end. The trip ended as it started with Eric’s music playing and our stomachs full of McDonald’s.
Group Members:
Caroline Duggan
Eric Duggan
Chris Fitz
Honorary Member:
Jeremy Bray
It all started at a tramping club meeting in November, reading a booklet advertising DOC volunteer conservation holidays. Counting kiwis over New Year - sounds great! Little did we know what we were getting ourselves in for. . .
On December 29 we arrived at Lake Sumner Forest Park ready to go out and listen for kiwis and met up with 12 other keen “kiwi listeners” plus Lesley the volunteer organiser. She was about 60 and carried a mountain mule pack. She fussed about everything, was enthusiastic, cheerful, fit and outspoken, carried carob buttons and pickled walnuts as treats for us, cared about what she was doing with all her heart and was generally an awesome person. The group, with the exception of two older people, was made up entirely of students; all science students and mostly ecology students from Lincoln.
We soon discovered we weren’t out for an easy stroll as we were chosen as part of the group to go over the tops and listen for kiwis up there. We were given topomaps with seemingly unreachable listening points marked on them and finally sent on our way at 4 pm. The 6 of us were to spend 3 days up there before rejoining the rest of the group. The idea was to walk together during the day then split into pairs and head off to three separate points for the night to listen to kiwis from 10pm to midnight.
We all shouldered our enormous loads and set off in the sweltering sun. We soon reached the welcome shade of the bush but this unfortunately meant leaving the track and bush-bashing straight up the hill. This was fine for a while. Dan, the group leader and a botanist, pointed out many interesting facts about the trees and the group, full of ecology students, nodded knowingly and asked intelligent questions. I, the arts student felt rather ignorant!
The hill got steeper and steeper, the bush got thicker and thicker and the day wore on. Bash on Thru paled in comparison as we staggered up the endless hill. Our water bottles began to look very empty and we discovered there was a distinct lack of streams. We all rushed eagerly upon a small muddy trickle and waited about half an hour for our water bottles to fill. Finally, at about 8:30, unsure of exactly where we were, we decided it was time to split up and find camping spots. We organised a rendezvous point we hoped we could find, then went our separate ways. None of us reached our assigned points that night but then 4pm is pretty late to start tramping! Ben and I found a reasonably root free little hollow and set up our trusty fly. By then it was already 10pm and time to start listening for kiwis. At 11pm after listening to the sound of silence for an hour, we decided to give up, cook dinner and go to bed.
The next day dawned bright and sunny again as we got out our maps and compasses, attempted to work out where exactly we were and set off in search of the rest of our group. With surprising ease we navigated our way to a clearing where we bumped into two of the others, filling their water bottles from a foul, stagnant brown puddle. The remainder of the group were only a little further on although we were miles from the rendezvous point! Finally we were out of the claustrophobic bush and on to the tops. We pushed our way through tussock and spear grass and staggered up huge hills in the hot sun. The views were magnificent and we felt on top of the world. It was one of the most rewarding tramping days ever and more than made up for the hard work.
At one stage a kea came up to inspect the intruders on his territory.
His expression was a mixture of curiosity and indignation as he hopped
boldly towards us, leaned out to peck Ben’s bootlace and changed his mind
at the last minute. Maybe it smelled too bad! That night we all managed
to reach our assigned points with time to spare. We also listened for the
full two hours this time but sadly there was nothing to hear. Rain fell
lightly but steadily that night; almost the only rain of the whole trip.
The rendezvous point for the next day was our campsite so we were looking
forward to a nice long sleep-in. This idea was rudely shattered however,
when we heard voices before 9am! I hate to think what time those two keen
trampers must have got up. They didn’t even have Melinda to hurry them
along! That was the end of sleeping in but we still had to wait about an
hour for the final pair.
Having done enough uphill to last a lifetime, it was now time to head straight down again! The hill seemed almost vertical and was slippery from the previous night’s rain. I did a great deal of clinging desperately onto trees and bum sliding! After hours of scrambling and sliding we finally arrived in a large, wide, grassy, sunny valley with a river of clean running water! We walked along a wide track to the rest of the group at a big, luxurious hut where we were greeted with cups of tea and scones baked by one of the group who carried in 1kg of flour!
The remaining three days were very tame after our tops adventure. However,
we had the chance to work with other group members, meet a great bunch
of people and learn a lot. I heard only one kiwi on the whole trip (on
New Year’s Eve!) and the success rate for most of the others was much the
same. However, it was very interesting and rewarding and really opened
my eyes to the importance of conservation and how bad things actually are.
Lesley and some of the group members were constantly explaining how seemingly
healthy forests were actually in danger and seemingly abundant birds were
on the verge of extinction. It’s depressing tramping with a group of ecologists!
The trip was a really worthwhile experience which I would definitely be
keen to repeat.