We arrived at Dawson Falls about midnight Friday night with the intentions of camping out that night. It was Anniversary weekend and Matt, Neil (my parents have spread some vicious rumour about us being related), Greg (fellow Met service worker) and I were planning to conquer the great peak, Egmont.
Neil and Greg quickly made camp in Greg’s Olympus tent before the weather really crapped out. Matt and I (being somewhat harder than our fellow trampers) decided to make a simple but effective lean-to onto the car. Just as we were settled the heavens opened and the greatest amount of water I have ever seen was dumped on us. Of course our lean-to was fine so I just kept on with the process of getting some sleep. Matt however decided that he was getting just too wet so wimped out and tried to sleep in the driver’s seat of the car. It was to the delighted laughs of Greg and Neil from their tent that I too had to retreat to the car for a very uncomfortable night.
The next day dawned semi-fine, well more crap than fine but we decided
that since we were hard Tararua trampers,... we set off for Fanthams Peak.
On-route along the track we found that DOC had kept up their Cave Creek
paranoia; the steps we were climbing up this steep side abruptly stopped
to a barrier and sign saying "the following track is dangerous, please
do not proceed". We looked around and the only way through was up the "dangerous
steps" so we climbed over the barrier and proceeded on and climbed over
the barrier at the other end.
When we reached the scree we decided to just head on up separately at our own pace. Neil and Greg zipped off ahead, Matt stayed back and I plodded on somewhere in the middle. As we climbed the weather crapped out within half an hour. In the hail, clag and strengthening wind I decided to wait for Matt as I was losing the poles in the haze. Matt finally caught up and we struggled on (the dramatic music starts about now!!), we decided that things were getting pretty hairy so we tried shouting out to Neil and Greg. Eventually we found them, freezing cold, as they had been waiting for a while for us to catch up. It was a fairly instantaneous pike decision as the conditions were pretty bleak, so we headed down to Lake Dive hut. We arrived at the hut at about 3pm, warmed up and lazed around.
The next day was no better weatherwise so we wandered back out to the car. Despite the failure to make it up to the top we had a great time blobbing around at Lake Dive so the weekend wasn't completely wasted. The route out through the bush from Lake Dive to Dawson Falls takes about 4 hours and has some great scenery on the way. Waterfalls and deep gorges which reflect the typical Mt Egmont terrain is all along this route. I recommend it on a nice day rather than in hail....
The top of the mountain remains elusive, but there is always another adventure in the making......
In late February this year Dan, Adrian, Jeremy and I set off for Holdsworth road end in Richard’s Humber. We had with us wet suits and inner tubes ready to tube the Waiohine river from Mid Waiohine hut to the bridge before Totara flats. Richard was going to come as well but he had a different agenda for that night, though he did lend us his car. The plan that night was to go to Mid Waiohine, then tube the river on Saturday and get back out to the road end on Saturday night.
The weather was awesome when we left Wellington and by the time we headed for the first part of our trip that night to Powell hut, it had turned into an awesome clear evening with lot’ of stars out. It only took a couple of hours to get to Powell but we had started reasonably late and it was already 10:30 PM. We stopped outside the hut for a while and then continued up to the trig on top of Mt. Holdsworth. From the top of Holdsworth we had awesome views of the moon to the west which was a spectacular red colour. At this point Adrian decided he would rather have a weekend in the bush by himself to gather his thoughts so we left him there and headed off Holdsworth and then back up onto Isabelle. By the time we reached the bush line on Isabelle it well after midnight and we were starting to feel reasonably tired. We eventually reached Mid Waiohine at 2 am, much to the surprise of a couple of people staying there, and hit pit.
Our alarms went off later that morning at about 7:30 am and Dan got up and started to pump up the tubes. We soon got up and after breakfast started to pump up our tubes. The tubes were from trucks and we only had bicycle pumps so it took a good hour and a half or more to blow them up. After that we changed into wetsuits and entered the Waiohine river next to the hut at about 10 am in awesomely clear and fine weather.
To start with we tried lying face down on our tubes and encountered some small rapids before getting to the swing bridge just south of the hut. We had a bit of trouble with the first rapids and working out the alignment of packs and tubes and the best way to ride them. Dan and I swapped tubes because he had a larger pack which meant he needed a bigger tube so he was more stable. Jeremy tied his pack to the side of his tube and I wore my pack on my back like Dan. We found out that the best way is to lie on your back on the tubes and to try to steer them with your hands. You were quite safe going through quite violent rapids and water as long as you stayed on your tube and didn’t come off it.
Just south of the bridge is where the real fun started. The gradient of the river is quite steep and it is also quite narrow. This meant fast flowing water with lots of steep rapids and waterfalls. From the position of your tube you often couldn’t see what was coming up next and you would be thrown over a large drop or into a violent rapid.
The worst rapids are what we called “tumblers”, which occurred where you had fast water meeting slow water which causes it to circulate around continuously under water in a tumbling motion. They especially happen when the rapids are steep and at waterfalls. It didn’t take long for Jeremy or I to have our first encounter with these rapids. Jeremy was going down the river first and from a distance I saw him disappear. Next thing I saw him warning me to abandon my tube just as I went over a waterfall and lost my tube and ended up being sucked under water. Jeremy said that all he could see was my arms flailing about as I struggled to reach the surface. Jeremy and I both got caught in the same tumbler but Dan managed to avoid it. For the next hour after that I was quite apprehensive about any rapids and tried not to get in the front.
Not long after the tumbler Jeremy was again in front and I saw him scrambling onto some rocks with his tube just before a 3-4 m drop into some technical rapids. I immediately jumped off my tube and abandoned it as I scrambled onto the rock. Dan was behind me and I thought he would do the same but he rode straight over the drop and somehow negotiated the rapids on his tube and intact. Not long after that I came off my tube in the middle of a rapid and smacked my leg straight into a rock.
After a couple of hours of violent water and rapids through the steep part of the river we encountered some long gorges with some nice slow water. The gorges were really steep and the pools were very deep. It was nice and relaxing and a good change after nearly drowning a couple of times.
After about 4 hours we started to approach Hector Forks and the rapids got more extreme again, although by now we had got used to them and were well practiced at staying on our tubes in the rough water. As long as you stayed on your tube you could go through almost anything relatively safe. Just after Hector Forks all three of us got jammed in the middle of a large rapid next to a big log jam in the river. Then I noticed that my tube had deflated so I had to abandon it and scramble to safety up the side of a cliff. I traversed the cliff for a while and jumped back into the water and pack floated until we got to a small gravel beach. We decided to have lunch here and luckily we had a spare tube which we spent an hour and a half blowing up.
I told everyone that I thought the last part would probably be quite easy. It wasn’t really but we were used to the river by now. I did come off my tube quite a bit in the last part and ended up body surfing some quite violent rapids. The last half hour to the bridge before Totara flats was quite relaxing and none of us wanted to have to stop tubing and get out.
It was about 5 PM when we got out so it had taken us 7 hours from the hut, but that had included a long break at lunch to blow up an extra tube. The walk out up Totara creek was quite hard as we were shagged from being in the river all day. Also my quad muscle was really sore from hitting a rock and I could hardly put any weight on it.
We got out to the Humber at about 9:30 PM in the dark. We drove into Masterton for a feed and also to get a dozen Tui each from the bottlestore. One can was enough to put Dan and I to sleep on the way back.
We were:
Eric Duggan(scribe)
Dan Batten
Jeremy Haines
Tuesday 25th February:
Eric and I were at university - me to do some enrolment stuff and Eric
to find himself an office, or a desk in an office, or even some floor space.
Went to the Rec. Centre to see if the climbing wall had been built (whatever)
and bumped into Dan. It turned out that none of us were doing anything
that afternoon so we decided to wander down to the Shag for some cheap
drinking.
There were only about five others there when we each bought our first jug (1 Lion Brown and 2 Speights). The jugs smelt of vomit and the beer tasted funny so we decided we should stick to Lion Red in future. As we have come to expect Dan polished off his jug first and went up for some Lion Red - Lion Rouge, the classiest beer in town, ask Adrian Pike. The barman gave him a card with a stamp on it and we were told that every jug of Lion Red got us a stamp and every four stamps would get us tickets and a bus to the opening Super 12 game in Palmerston North. After our 6th jug of Lion Red we wondered who could come and help us drink and for some reason the name Jeremy Haines sprung to mind. He had a couple of jugs and we ended up with eleven stamps so the four of us were going to the rugby. Now off to Zebos for the tramping club meeting. I think our incoherent ramblings about free rugby tickets confused, surprised and scared some of the T.C members present.
We had been told to turn up on Friday at 2:30 pm.
So we did.
Friday 28th February
In for a quick jug or two, some pool and some food (from the takeaways across the road) and then onto the bus. There were about thirty of us but only one female. The bus driver introduced himself, "I'm Neville. I'm your bus driver. Don't spill beer. If we get stopped at a weigh station hide your beer. No smoking. No vomiting", and we were off.
The brewery had kindly provided refreshments for the bus trip - 15 dozen Lion Red - and some entertainment - snow boarding videos to which Eric provided enlightening commentary. Eric was also impressed with the ability of a number of our fellow travellers' to sing Cypress Hill songs word perfect. Every thirty minutes or so the bus would stop, Nev responded well to calls of "drug stop", "joint stop", "let's get stoned", and up to half the bus would pile out.
By the time we got to Shannon a number of people on the bus were hammered and Nev stopped to lessen the likelihood of people urinating on the bus. Thirty drunks fell out of the bus and rolled across the road to find the public toilets - the locals battened down the hatches. Dan couldn't wait for the toilet (reminiscent of his fire hydrant display at the 377 Ohiro Road flat warming) and decided to urinate outside a shop (4:00 pm) until an irate owner came running out yelling abuse. The toilets were a shocker. There were thirty of us and one 3 person urinal, one toilet, two hand basins, and all of the walls and corners were in use. The use of the hand basins was instigated by our very own Eric and Dan. Never, ever, ever wash your hands or touch the taps in the hand basins in Shannon. A river of urine (basically straight beer minus the alcohol) was flowing out of the toilets and along the footpaths when we jumped back on the bus.
The brewery rep must have thought we were getting a bit restless or bored so he got some more entertainment for the rest of the trip. I’m not really a fan of hard-core pornos myself but the videos seemed to go down well (no pun intended) with the majority of bus occupants, judging by the amount of cheering that was going on. It gave new meaning to the term “not physically possible”.
Someone had yellow and black face paint so when we piled out of the bus in Palmy it was obvious that we were a bunch of drunken Hurricanes supporters. Into the ground where we expressed our disgust at the cost of the beer by picking up cans from the table and distributing them at random - they had left the table untended - before wandering off (free beer, stealing is such an ugly word).
We then charged around the ground, planning to do a lap of honour, grasping our Absolutely Positively Wellington banner. Any fellow Hurricanes supporters were cheered, any Waikato supporters were jeered and we all looked like obnoxious, drunk idiots - funny that. We found seats. The game started. Moments later the Hurricanes scored in the corner and we started watching rugby in earnest. During the break various substances were passed around and most of us began to lose interest in the rugby.
Fights were erupting all around us, most of them including people from the bus. Eric, Jeremy and Dan were itching to get involved but I was more concerned with my personal safety - I’m not a fighter.
All in all about half of the people evicted from the ground were from our bus trip. At the end of the game Jeremy and Eric were trying to catch some people who had thrown lengths of 4x2 at them but eventually they gave up and stumbled onto the bus. Dusty, the president of the Geology Society, was missing but we drove off anyway and by coincidence he saw the bus in the middle of Palmy and started to chase it. We stopped and he jumped on to a heroes welcome.
We stopped at a bottle store and a female asked if she could hitch a ride back to Wellington with us but after three minutes on the bus she had second thoughts, hardly surprising really, and got back out.
The trip back to Wellington was an uneventful haze and the rest of the night is hardly worth mentioning.
We were:
Dan Batten
Eric Duggan
Jeremy Haines
Dave Hodson
Well, the madness started at 4:00am on Saturday the 22nd of February, when Mike picked me up. It was a beautiful morning, just what the doctor ordered and things looked to be getting off to a great start. Still half asleep we drove to the bottom of Mt Pleasant road where Eric joined us, from here it was to the terrace for Dave (who naturally was still down at his flat). From here the four of us headed for Holdsworth and the most insane day of my life.
Unfortunately Eric forgot his Cyprus Hill tape and so we couldn’t listen to it. Once at the road end we got our gear together, posed for a photo for Dave’s camera and then headed of. Mike and I began walking off down the track to Donnelly Flats while Dave and Eric made some adjustments at Holdsworth Lodge. A few minutes down the track Eric and Dave suddenly turned up running. After a bit a persuasion Mike and I decided to join them and so we began our run down to Atiwhakatu Hut. Naturally Eric stormed off in front and left the rest of us to it. After 40 minutes we made it to the Hut and had a quick drink and bit to eat and then began the gentle walk up the Rain Gauge to Jumbo. It didn’t take the others too long to leave me behind and I lost sight of them within about 15 minutes. At this stage I began to wonder just what I had got myself into (I was later to find out in a big way). Every so often I saw the others after they had stopped to wait for me. It eventually took me 1hr 20min from Atiwhakatu to Jumbo and when I reached Jumbo, I found the others talking to some TTC guys. It was at Jumbo that the beautiful day decided to leave us and typical Tararua weather decided it would join us. In fact it graciously decided to stay with us for the rest of the trip.
As we left Jumbo the cloud came in and the breeze picked up. Along the tops to McGregor Spur we ran and walked quickly at the same time battling the wind that just seemed to be getting stronger and stronger. We definitely weren’t going to see Taranaki or Ruapehu on this Carkeek trip. We made it down to McGregor Biv in just over 3 hrs and stopped there for a bite to eat and another drink. After a few photos we made tracks for the junction of Dorset creek and Waiohine river, with Dave saying that we wouldn’t have a problem finding our way down the spur because last time he went down it he took special care to note the correct track. Anyway it didn’t take us long to lose the track. After a while Dave said he had found the track again and so we headed off. Soon after which I noticed a rock that looked familiar and sure enough we had done a 180 degree turn and were heading back up the spur. Well after this slight mishap we shot straight down the spur, past Dave’s favourite bivvy spot and down to the junction.
Here we had a few of Eric sour gummy bears, took a few more photo’s and then set off to Park Forks and Carkeek ridge. Upon setting off up the river we quickly found out that sneakers aren’t better than tramping boots when you’re walking up a river. After half an hour we made it up to Park Forks, where I posed for a photo. We had some more food, filled up our drink bottles and then made tracks for Carkeek Hut. We eventually made it to the Hut around 7 hrs after beginning our journey. Once inside we had a well deserved picnic. Dave pulled out a couple of picnic bars and we all had our photo taken holding the wrapper under the sign at the hut, unfortunately we couldn’t convince Dave to give us any of the bar itself (tight ass).
After our picnic we set off for the second leg of the journey and this is when it really hit me just what I had got myself into. Everything began to slow down as I wondered up Carkeek ridge. The climbs up to Carkeek, Thompson and Lancaster were as big as the map said they would be. On top of Thompson we took a wrong turn and began to head down a steep ridge. Dave quickly realised our mistake when he came across a big bluff which wasn’t on the track the last time he came this way. So we went back up the ridge and got back on to the track.
It was lucky for me that the cloud covered the scale of the climbs because if I had seen them before I was actually climbing them I doubt whether I would have made it. From Lancaster it was down and up to Arete (another climb). On the way up to Arete Dave was worried that I had hypothermia, I didn’t, I was just absolutely shattered. On top of Arete the weather was really getting shitty. We made tracks for Te Matawai Hut and a change of pace. It was a huge boost to get on top of Arete because it was all down hill from there. Once we made it to the hut, I inspected the bog while the others rested inside - I joined them after a few minutes. From here we headed for the Ohau river via the Yeates 500. Upon making it to South Ohau Hut we found four people playing cards with a fire going. We explained to them where we had come from but it was lost on them as they didn’t know were Holdsworth was. This was a huge disappointment to all of us, as we were waiting for them to tell us that we were legends. Anyway from here it was, according to Dave, a gentle 1 hr walk out down the river. This sounded great as it meant we would be out before it got dark. However, Eric was quick to inform us that it was in fact a 3 hr walk out, you can imagine how stoked I was to here this. Well I can tell you walking down a river in the dark is no bloody fun at all. In fact, it was as much fun as watching a game of rugby league - probably involved more skill as well.
Eventually we made it out to the farm-land at the road end by 10:00pm that night, 16 hours after we began. We were greeted by Brendan, who was asleep in his car. A special thanks goes to Brendan because without him the trip wouldn’t have gone ahead and also for putting up with our smell - apparently we stank but none of us could tell. Well that was the end of the walk/run but it was by no means the end of the trip because we still had to get back to Holdsworth to pick up Mike’s car. We planned to do this via the Pahiatua track. Once inside the car mine and Eric’s knee began to let us know that they weren’t happy with what we had just put them through. Well because we had a long trip ahead of us we settled in for the journey. Eric settled in so much that when we passed the turn off to the Pahiatua track, he decided not to mention it. Needless to say we ended up going through the Manawatu gorge. On our way through one town we came across a guy showing some amazing talent. While going for a slash he was able to flick the bird at all the cars going past. When we got to Woodville we decided to have a break because our knees were killing us. Well to the amazement of some of the locals four guys rolled out of a car and were sober. After our little break in Woodville, it was off to Holdsworth. This part of the journey I have no recollection of because I slept all the way.
At Holdsworth Eric, Mike and I said farewell to Dave and Brendan, got into Mike’s car and headed for home. Again I fell asleep and only woke up when we were outside Eric’s place. It was then that Mike told me about his driving skills over the hill, which made me glad I had been asleep. It was then off to my house and bed.
Picnickers:
Dan Batten
Eric Duggan
Mike Judd
Dave Walker
Honorary Picnicker:
Brendan Mosely
It was not exactly the best pre race preparation; the Toga party on the Thursday night before the race on Saturday. I had been slack since mid February and had not done any real training except for the Carkeek picnic. But I turned up at the start line ready to go and was feeling nice and relaxed.
The weather on race day was fine and sunny in Wellington, but at Kaitoke car park it was blowing a gale and it was cloudy over the top of the Southern Crossing with 100 km/hr winds forecast for later on in the day. My plan was to take it easy along Marchant Ridge and if I felt good at Alpha hut I was going to go for it. I let a couple of runners take off at the start and kept in behind another runner up towards Dobson’s hut site. At Dobson’s we pulled in one of the early leaders from our group and I was feeling good so I took off by myself. Before the Burn I caught up and passed the other early pace setter. His name was Ross Wakelin and he just finished ahead of me in the Holdsworth-Jumbo race. I had a yarn to him at the end of the race and he told me that he used to be in the Vic tramping club in 1980.
Once I left the Burn behind and entered the bush I started to feel really good and piled on the pace. I soon reached the top of Omega and then onto Hells gate which I managed to run all the way up. I was really surprised and pleased with my time to Alpha hut which was 2 hours and 34 minutes. At Alpha I had a good drink and heaps of leppin squeezes.
Just above the bushline the weather turned to shit and I stopped and put on Polypro longs, a jacket and polypro balaclava. On top of Alpha the weather was even worse and I was getting blown all over the place and struggling to stand up. The weather was really taking the energy out of me and I was finding it hard to move at any great speed. Once the track dropped down and headed towards Aston the weather was better but there were no views and about 50 m visibility; but that didn’t matter as the track is easy to follow.
Climbing up onto the Beehives I started to feel really shagged and my legs started to cramp up severely. I stopped and had a couple of leppin squeezes and the cramp went away instantly but I was still feeling shagged. Not long after I was passed by Matt Comesky who had started at the same time as me. I followed him over Mt Hector but lost sight of him getting up onto Field Peak. I reached Kime hut in 4 hours and 20 minutes and was feeling quite good as I headed off towards Field hut.
I raced over Bridge Peak and across Dennan and down onto Table Top; from where I could just see Matt Comesky disappearing out of site. I was feeling really good and reached Field hut in good condition. But once I left Field for the final 600 or 700 m vertical to the Forks I began to spit the dummy.
Once I reached the bushline I was really shagged and was really struggling to just keep running. About 15 minutes from the finish the winner Colin Rolfe who started an hour after me came flying past. I thought if he can run down here at that speed then so can I. I sprinted down the last bit and let gravity carry me down and crossed the finish line in 5 hours and 47 minutes. I was absolutely shagged but really happy to finish in under 6 hours. Colin Rolfe ended up doing 4 hours and 45 minutes.
(A personal and biased view of Freshers 1997)
Several weeks before Freshers I injured my ankle in a particularly stupid manner. I was walking along a path and put my foot half over the edge. This would have been okay but I also applied quite a lot of weight to that foot, so much weight that I nearly passed out. When I took this injury to my physio. she described ‘nearly passed out’ as ‘pain + + on my chart. I was quite impressed by this. After a few weeks of treatment things started to come right and the week before Freshers I was told that I could get on with my normal activities, but that I should ‘be careful’.
On Friday we assembled at the Hunter Car Park and after the usual amount of mucking about we embarked on our journey. All was right with the world. I sat on the bus and talked to those around me and contemplated the hard fifteen minute tramp from the Holdsworth road end to Donnelly Flats. We arrived in Greytown for the traditional pre-tramp nosh up and I prepared myself for the charge to the Fish and Chip shop to get my order in first. This is where things began to go badly awry.
(The next part of this narrative is written in slow motion with the theme from “Chariots of Fire” playing in the background).
The bus doors opened, I left the starting blocks with all the grace of a thoroughbred racehorse and began my epic race to the Chippie. I had my ten dollar note in my hand and was waving it about like a prize winning Bingo ticket. You shouldn’t wave money about like that because, as I found out, you can let go of it, and at arrgh miles an hour that is bad. The ten dollar note went one way and most of my body followed it. My ankle did not, it continued forward toward the Fish and Chip shop, obviously not realising that you need money to buy food. The result of this maneuver is that I spun 180 degrees on my bad ankle and ended up on the ground with Catherine charging me down. She avoided me by a very small margin and continued her headlong dash to fast food heaven. Then the pain hit. My ankle was unimpressed with my acrobatics and decided it didn’t like me any more. I picked myself and the ten dollar note up and hobbled to the Fish and Chip shop where I was the object of ridicule which literally added insult to injury. I eventually got my food and lay on the pavement with my leg elevated and a bottle of Coke stuffed down my sock.
The rest of the trip in was uneventful. We got to Donnelly Flats and set up camp. The next morning I had a decision to make. I could not easily go up the Gentle Annie and grovel down from Mountain House to the Atiwhakatu Track so I took the soft option and traveled all the way along the Atiwhakatu with Matt. Ben (my co-leader) took Peter (my one group member) with him and Erica up the Gentle Annie while Matt and I proceeded at a leisurely pace up towards the campsite. After setting up camp early that afternoon we sat around and waited for the rest of the party to arrive. The groups slowly drifted in and the normal amount of socialising ensued. That night around the camp fire my trusty stick (which I found essential for support) was heartlessly mutilated by Douglas in an attempt to prove I was not really injured. He cut several inches off the stick and claimed that my not noticing this proved that I was putting it all on. Unbeknownst to him he actually did me a great service for the stick was originally a little bit long and is now the perfect size. Thank you Douglas.
The next day we had a very laid back trip to Donnelly Flats. Just before we got to the Flats Michele (the Ice Water Queen herself) decided that it would be a good idea to go for a swim. I can personally attest that the water was cold enough to shrink a Polar Bears’ willie. Michele loved it, everyone else got hypothermia.
We had quite a lot of time on our hands once we arrived at Donnelly
Flats so we had lunch, threw Ben in the water, and had a river crossing
demonstration. Once we reached the roadend a game of Bullrush was in order.
It is hard to play Bullrush when you have to hop. The bus arrived and we
headed for home singing most of the way. I had a great trip, even though
I couldn’t walk very well. On the following day I rang my physiotherapist
and gave her the good news. She took it rather well I thought, but showed
little sympathy when I explained how I re-did the injury. As I recall,
she laughed.
On Good Friday, March 28th, Dave Walker (politically correct ACC employee on week days, but crass and foul-mouthed mountain man at the weekends, in the nicest possible way, look out Clark Kent), Dan Batten (our mountain of a club president, this time armed or footed with nonblistering Garmont boots) and Alexis Lambeck (defector from Dave Hodson's Mitre And Beyond leadership team) caught the first train to Wallaceville (Upper Hutt) arriving around 8am. After a two-minute walk they arrived at my flat, making it a very convenient flat to COME AND VISIT. Having loaded our four packs and ourselves into my wee stationwagon and familiarised ourselves with the sound of it backfiring, we stopped in the Wairarapa somewhere for a bite to eat (chocolate, hot-cross-buns and luke-warm pies). Soon after that Dave's lower half joined the conversation. That day we had another bite at Jumbo Hut, photographs at McGregor Biv, and Alexis learned the joy of sucking on Dan's Oasis tube. I had a cold, so my tube was spared, and Dave didn't have one at all, so he talked to his Dad by radio instead. Crossing the Waiohine River back and forth could have been more comfortable if we were all as tall as Dan and Alexis and kept certain parts of our bodies warm and dry. We climbed up to Carkeek Hut by torch light and found four hunters there. It is a six bunk, so if there were two more hunters Dan's promise to exert his over-six-foot-hut-maintainer's-right-to-a-bunk might have been tested. Alexis and I slept on the floor. Someone knelt on Alexis' head. We had pasta for dinner on Friday night, Saturday night, Sunday lunch and Sunday night at New Tarn Ridge Hut.
(random paragraphing of a dense science graduate) We painted the hut exterior, dug a long-drop hole which contained a large rock, erected the new long-drop structure over the new hole despite the lack of a resource consent to do this (the old long-drop seat was dangerously rotten and it would've been crazy to leave the new structure lying next to a good hole, rotting until the resource consent was granted and another group erected it) and painted the new structure.
On Sunday at 3pm we left the disappointed hunters who'd been choppered in (thanks for the fresh milk, guys) for six days at Carkeek *before* the roar had actually started. We climbed Carkeek and Lancaster and started along Tarn Ridge. We loved the view, the weather, the sunset, and the shadows of us it cast on the clouds behind us. Dave and I played cricket at the Old Tarn Ridge (a.k.a. Tarn Fridge) site. Dan's knee was giving him pain (but he broke through the pain barrier once again), so he only stopped to photograph the cricket bat disintegrating as Dave played an otherwise fine shot. We got to New Tarn Ridge Hut before torches were needed (7pm), found it unoccupied, made custard with condensed milk from the custodian's cupboard, read the intentions of Mitre&Beyonders to visit us at Carkeek and laughed 'cos they hadn't, agreed with Dave Hodson's "study in softness", appreciated the view from the long-drop (one leaves the door open when sitting there), slept, woke, ate and left around 8.30am. We did Girdlestone and Dave found a camera on Mid King. He accidentally took some photos of us for the benefit of the owner incase s/he claims it from the police. Lunch on South king, then below the bush line down Baldy, with only a couple of hours left in the tramp, Dave offers Dan the knee brace in his pack. This brings us to conversation about first aid and treating female first aid patients. Dan thinks aloud "it's taken all weekend, but the conversation has finally really gone downhill."
At Atiwhakatu Hut I filled in the log book: "Intended route out: out
to Holdsworth Lodge carpark and maybe Ohiro Rd." OOPS! For the next three
hours until I dropped Dave at Allenby Tce I got hassled, interrogated and
threatened. "I can find out who it is, tell the whole club and ring her
before you even get there" Dave said. "I'll announce it to the club “ Dan
says.
Big talk, great time.
Fresh to the Wellington scene I was anticipating a host of adventures to spice up my new University lifestyle. Being a sporty chap, joining a club was one of my first priorities and since the Tramping Club was plastered over all notice boards around campus I thought it must be a hot club indeed - given the stylish rendering of a sheep on a mountain top and bold tramping club logo.
Well this came to that and before I knew it I was packing for my first tramp - an Easter Mitre trip in the Tararuas. Firstly I managed to scavenge an old leather strapped, steel framed backpack (no waistband of course) then I slipped into my well used multi-purpose running shoes and boldly I strolled into the group meeting at the Hunter Carpark.
Eyebrows were raised and chuckles suppressed at my motley outfit but I took great pleasure in mine being the lightest backpack (due to an alarming absence of gear). Group introductions came next with our hard core, greyhound pack consisting of Julian, Tim, John, myself and our totally cool and collected leader, Adrian himself.
After the pre-trip ritual of lifting each other's packs (disdainfully disregarding any that didn't need at least a two arm lift), distributing gear and trying to put my inexperienced mind off with Tararua horror stories we loaded up and were away.
We reached our destination, that with my advanced navigational skills I estimated to be somewhere in the middle of the Tararuas, and shouldering our packs we were off. Quickly I took up what was to be a typical position stumbling hunchbacked along behind the greyhound pack and commenced a long torch bash up to a greatly received hut.
Halfway to the hut we received a likely lass to the greyhound pack, swelling our numbers to six. Exhausted and weary we stumbled upon the last river crossing before the hut at midnight. Here I tested the water-proofness of both my pack and my torch by intentionally falling into the river in my frantic efforts to keep up with the light footed leaders.
The next morning dawned fine, as did every other morning on this trip. The days shone brightly and the nights were clear and crisp. It was a dreamy first experience of tramping which I'll never forget and which has spurred me on to other adventures. Our route consisted of bagging Mitre, over Brockett, ambling along Tarn ridge, bagging some huts (new Tarn Ridge, Arete Forks, Cow Creek), a bivouac (Arete) and stumbling down a spur (Pinnacle) plus enjoying the many pleasures of Table Ridge. Our group was further swelled by the arrival of Dave on top of the Waiohine Pinnacles so we ended up blessed by the knowledge of three experienced leaders.
In summary our trip took on a pretty dream-like quality where even my basic gear lasted me comfortably and the effect was to show me the Tararuas in the most pleasant light, for which I can only thank my awesome group and the blessed weather.
The Group:
Adrian Barr (leader)
John Griffen
Tim Ingleton
Julian Duerr
Richard Pedley (Scribe)
Hangers on:
Sarah Devon
Dave Hodson
One fine Easter a keen group of Vic. trampers set off to ‘Mitre and Beyond!’ The weather was great, the scope was large, the holiday lasted for four days, what more could you ask for?
It was a dark and starry Thursday night as we set off from the road end. The keen group of trampers who were tramping all the way to Mitre Flats Hut that night soon disappeared into the distance, and Neal, Jeremy, Johno and I were left to find a campsite. We walked through a grassy area to a small stream. Thinking there would be a better campsite on the other side we splashed across found a patch of grass right beside the track and not much else. We decided that the other side was better and splashed back. Unfortunately, on closer inspection it was not suitable and so we returned to the other side! Having chosen our campsite the evening proceeded smoothly.
The next morning we ate a breakfast slightly interrupted by several groups of trampers walking right over our table. We constantly had to clear cookers and billies off the track for them. While waiting for our fifth group member, Karla, to arrive we played on a dodgy looking three wire bridge, finally summoning the courage to cross right over. Dave Hodson walked past with his ‘group’ consisting of a rather nervous looking Bryce, and told us of his mission plans.
Karla arrived and we se off. It was a rather uneventful day of trudging up the river valley, clambering over roots and under branches. The biggest event of the day was when we stopped at a slip and had a prolonged debate as to whether it was the slip marked on the map or not.
Finally we arrived at Mitre Flats Hut and I went for a lovely, refreshing swim in the river. We discovered that Dave and Bryce were still at the hut because Bryce had problems with cramp. He had not managed to “Break through the pain barrier” as Dave had asked him to! The next day he joined our nice, sane group and Dave set off on a crazy, hardcore trip.
There was much debate on the next days plans. We had been planning on continuing through the bush to Cow Creek Hut, but the weather was perfect and Mitre Peak was so close. There was really no comparison, the next day we set off for New Tarn Ridge Hut via Mitre Peak.
We went up and up and up and up. We thought we would never get to the bush line. Finally, however, we were on the tops. It was amazing – you could see for miles. For once you could look at the map, then look around you and see it all in real life. We followed the ridge line up and down until we finally made it to the top of Mitre. We made the highest peak in the Tararuas even higher by adding a stone to the cairn.
The other side of Mitre was a bit of an adventure, it was more like climbing than tramping! This was followed another peak, then several more ups and downs along the jagged ridge line before we made it to the hut. We ate piles of pasta, watched a beautiful sunset, played cards, went to the toilet (a real mission along an indistinct muddy track in the dark) and went to bed.
The second two days were a mirror image of the first two. On the third day we headed back over the tops to Mitre Flats Hut. Once again the weather was perfect. I used suncream on this trip and didn’t once get out my raincoat. The Tararuas don’t often give you a perfect on the tops, we got two of them, we even saw Mount Taranaki!
Climbing back up Mitre Peaks’ steep side proved to be a bit of a mission, but not as bad as going down. Once again we had lunch on the top. Karla and I watched disapprovingly as the boys rolled every rock in sight off the mountain. We also took a side trip to a tarn which took a bit longer than expected. Cloud closed in for the last part of our walk. Jeremy, Bryce and I nearly ran the last section through the bush, got to the hut and then jumped straight into the river for a nice cooling swim.
I was on dinner that night. My rice meal tasted very good, it’s just a shame there were only a few spoonfuls each. The packets did say that they served three to four, and I had two of them.
Walking out on the fourth day seemed a lot easier than walking in had, now that we had a tops mission to compare it to. We had lunch on the slip which gave us ample time to continue the debate about whether it was the one on the map or not. I don’t think we actually came to a conclusion, but it certainly made for riveting lunch time conversation.
Karla and I had a swim at the three wire bridge on the way out. We said hello to our campsite, and did a roadbash that seemed six times as long as it had on Thursday night and finally arrived at the roadend to be greeted by Matt.
Mitre was a thoroughly worthwhile and rewarding trip. As well as it being my second attempt at co-leading, I got to see views I had never experienced before, swim in several cold rivers, spend four days tramping in the sun, and meeting interesting new people.
We were:Neal
Jeremy
Johno
Karla
Bryce
Michele (scribe)
(well maybe that’s a slight exaggeration, I was a bit cold, well to be honest I was bloody freezing, you know at times I couldn’t feel my toes, and my nose was running like a tap, in fact it was quite a bit more than bloody freezing come to think of it, it was only just above absolute zero and that’s really cold….)
For the first time in months I was up before midday on a Saturday. To be exact it was 7.30 in the morning, and Matt Ravlich, Leigh Matheson and Adrian Pike had congregated at our flat to meet Melinda Short and myself before heading off on our tramp to Jumbo and beyond.
If getting up at that ungodly hour wasn’t bad enough, reaching the bottom of the Rimutaka incline and realising there was a severe lack of petrol in the tank didn’t exactly bode well for the tramp. Adrian’s reassuring words of wisdom such as “It’s never been this low before” and “We should make it back to the petrol station in Upper Hutt” did NOT help [I’m sorry, asst. ed.]. And so we turned back before we had even begun. From Upper Hutt we proceeded with no calamities arising and met up with Matt and Leigh at Holdsworth Roadend. Adrian unloaded his walking stick and we were off.
The tramp began at an easy enough pace (once we made sure that Melinda and not Leigh was in the front), discussing profound topics like TV shows and haircuts. Gee aren’t tramps a great way of really getting to know people? This pace and general happy-go-lucky attitude continued until ‘round about the time we reached Atiwhakatu Hut. The fact that the turn-off leading to Jumbo via a moderately (sic: read “mindblowingly”) steep hill, was just around the corner, was, of course, completely irrelevant.
At this stage Leigh, Melinda, Adrian, and I powered up the hill and left Matt wandering behind. Actually that’s a bit of a lie. Leigh and Melinda powered up the hill and I, the flu victim, suffering from a spluttering, phlegmy cough, a completely blocked and unbelievably runny nose (which begs the question - how much snot can you possibly have stuck up your nose?), a lost or very raspy voice and a general fever (together with hot and cold flushes) fell well and truly behind. At least that’s my excuse for the ultimate embarrassment which followed being caught up by Matt halfway up to Jumbo. If it wasn’t for his insatiable desire to be last he would have passed me.
Finally the agony ended. We had reached the hut and were still alive. After looking at the spectacular views and taking the obligatory photos we discussed the next days tramping route. A journey over the Broken Axe Pinnacles and around to Baldy was mooted. We then looked at the hut book and noted with satisfaction that the Carkeek day trippers had piked, if we succeeded we would go further than them! The normal routines followed - tea, cards, bed. Unfortunately sleep did not. As is common in huts, some guy managed to fall asleep well before me. That in itself is not a problem. It was the loud reverberating noise which emanated from his nostrils that troubled me. The racket echoed off the walls around the hut, and so in the pitch blackness I had no idea where it was originating from and who I should thump with my pillow.
Understandably still awake at 6am the next morning I got up to watch the sunrise. It was definitely worth it. The view from the hut verandah was breath taking and awe inspiring. In one direction a ball of orange fire emerged above the horizon, in the other misty cloud floated over the hills. Together they created an incredible atmosphere of mystique.
Later that morning it was decided that Matt, as hut warden, would stay behind to clean up the hut while Leigh, Melinda, Adrian and I took off on our mission. Before an hours tramping had passed the clag had begun to set in and it was difficult to see ten metres ahead. The wind was blowing with such power that we were forced to lean a good thirty degrees into it and were still having problems standing up. We were determined to press on. When we had almost reached McGregor it began sleeting and with the bitterly cold conditions not easing we had to turn back. Common sense won over the sense of adventure.
On the way back, we discovered an entirely different sort of adventure. It began with a huge pile of Deer legs (that is minus the bodies) that no one had seen on the way up. Then there was a sheer cliff face we had to climb down. After stumbling down the steep embankment of speargrass and discovering absolutely no track at the bottom we decided to take a bearing. Shock Horror, we were off course. Rather than heading East we were heading due North. On the way back up to the track (via the somewhat painful speargrass, sheer cliff-face and Deer legs) we suffered the first fatality of the trip. We were tramping along a track on a ridge about one inch wide when an unexpectedly strong gust of wind struck and blew me off the top. Seeing this Adrian gallantly jumped down to save me before realising that I was perfectly in control, only for the wind to whip his hat off his head and down the mountain. After a quick debate (“Go down the mountain after the hat or bugger it and stay here, get the hat or stay here, hat or live?”), we continued minus the hat.
Eventually we arrived back at Jumbo Hut where we had lunch and then proceeded down the mountain. On the way I invented some new dance steps with the trees such as the “fall-over-a-root Polka” or the classic “slip-on-some-mud Fox-trot”, but that’s okay. Better than falling into some speargrass or taking a flying leap into a pile of gorse as happened on the Southern Crossing a few weeks later. Near Donnelly Flats we stopped for a swim at a watering hole and froze, but it was great, nothing like a swim after being lathered in sweat. Soon we continued and rejoined Matt at the carpark who viciously teased us with kind words such as “I would have brought refreshments if only I had keys to the steering lock….” Oh if only…. And thus ended a thoroughly enjoyable and rewarding tramp with a great bunch of people - thanks guys.
We were:
Matt Ravlich
Leigh Matheson
Adrian Pike
Melinda Short
Nyree Bace