Another awesome adventure into the Tararuas was to begin, this time in the northern extremity. Being my second tramp I was now well versed in gear requirement and survival procedures. I bore a new backpack and hiking boots and a fearsome arsenal of tramping equipment.
Our awesome group for this trip was made up of Tim the steady-footed giant, Katherine the she-hulk trooper, Julian the light-footed speedster, Jane the patient and wise hard-core missioner, Matt the vast well of knowledge and storyteller and my inexperienced but keen self.
Matt entertained us on the trip north with singles from his golden oldies collection and a very thorough sight-seeing route through Levin. Before we knew it our bright eyed group had disembarked on our tramping extrusion. We fell into an easy pace and the nigh drifted peacefully by in the enjoyment of each others company.
The next morning we shook ourselves awake from our fly, with which we were developing a close bond and begun the morning preparations with a determined eagerness. In little time we were on the track again and Jane, with her vast wisdom, naturally took over as our leader for the day. Options were discussed and a river bash was decided upon.
As the hours wore on our love of the river track wore a little thin. The icy waters of the white frothed river bit deeply into our cold numbed feet and our jello coated boots slipped freely on the water worn rocks. By mid-afternoon we approached a gorge in the river and the day’s persistent rain had swollen the river to dangerous levels. Luckily at this point our luck changed and we met with another tramping party coming up behind us. Together we managed a river crossing to the side where we could bash up the gorges slope and hopefully get to the track on the ridge. We each made the river crossing by the skin of our teeth, the second group being swept down river a small distance before they could regain footing and be pulled to safety by those who had already crossed. From this point our band of now weary travellers fell in meekly behind the other trampers who we kept in contact with by kooewee calls. Our combined party didn’t quite make it to the track so our trusty fly got put into use again as it was tightly packed by six very wet trampers. By this stage we were truly Lords of the Fly so the fly was able to be erected in short order and we all settled in away from the rain.
Matt kept us entertained with ghost stories and later his impersonation of an avalanche - which he managed to keep up for the rest of the night (much to our delight!) Before shut-eye we prayed devotedly to Ra the sun god and then, exhausted, we fell into a fitful sleep.
In the morning Ra blessed us with a clear sky but we remained statue-like in positions half packing with the fly pulled down and our gear strewn underfoot until the sun’s rays could charge us into action. Once underway though, the day uplifted all of our spirits with a dazzling sun that lightened our feet and our loads. Best yet at the end of our day’s tramp a warm hut was waiting for us - equipped with friendly hunters to provide a roaring fire. Despite these comforts we couldn’t abandon our fly into disuse so we set it up outside to please the giant rats that stalked the area and to keep them out of our hut. As an added precaution we stoked the fire up as we fell into a pleasant slumber, to prevent them coming down the chimney.
The last day of our tramp started with a thankfully received lie-in, where our supply of cup-of-soups, cheesecakes and instant puddings were devoured as well as new card games learnt to wile away the time. By the time we were underway the land had been warmed up by the sun’s loving rays and along the track tui and fantails joined in chorus to give us a glorious send-off.
The pleasant end to our tramp made all the difference and the great team spirit of our group ironed out any rough patches in the tramp we experienced. In the end we all had an awesome time.
Our group:
Matt Ravlich (leader)
Tim Ingleton
Katherine
Julian Duerr
Jane
Richard Pedley (scribe)
Mike Sheridan mentioned at the end of his presentation on SAR at the tramping club meeting that he was going to Carkeek over the weekend and asked if anyone wanted to come along. He later came up to me and asked if I was interested and mentioned that Johnny Mulheron and Terry Patterson would be coming as well. The chance to go tramping with Vic legends and founders of Lost Sheep Tours was too good to give up so I rang him on Wednesday and said I would definitely come.
Adrian Barr came along as well and on Friday afternoon Mike picked us up at Waterloo railway station and we headed over the hill to the Wairarapa. There was a tramper called Allan Stowell with Mike who isn’t an ex Vic member but is bloody fit and friends with Mike, Johnny and Terry. We were going in from Kiriwhakapapa road end so Mike could red line Pinnacle spur and Alan could red line the Arete fork’s sidle track.
On the way over the hill we yarned to Mike about the club in the 1980s and all the legendary members from that era. He told us about how Lost Sheep Tours originated and the t-shirt they had for it. It had the Vic symbol of the sheep on a mountain on the front and above that was written “ Carkeek or megadeath “. On the back was written “ sponsored by Lost Sheep Tours”. Mike also told us about how he and Richard Haverkamp started the obsession with Carkeek hut. They used to race each other into the hut by as many different routes possible and in the fastest time.
We reached the road end and set off for Cow Creek at 5:30 pm. The pace was reasonable to start with but soon Mike stuck his foot down and we charged up towards Te Mara. It felt like I had been king hit as I haven’t done anything since the Tararua race and I really had to dig it in; but at the same time it felt good to go at that pace. It didn’t take us long to reach the cableway and we got to Cow Creek in 3 hours at 8:30 pm. After a brew we hit pit and set our alarms for 5:30 am the next morning.
We were up early the next morning and heading for Arete Fork’s at first light at 6:30 am. The track had been cleared since last time but it still sucks with heaps of ups and downs rather than any sidling. Mike didn’t muck around though and we reached Arete Fork’s hut in two hours. He moves at an awesome pace over rough terrain and without seeming to increase pace he would be 10 to 15 m ahead of you.
After a quick rest it was straight into the uphill onto Pinnacle spur and Mike’s first red line in the Tararuas for quite a few years. The track up onto the Pinnacles was amazing as it had just been cleared by D.O.C and they had detonated a 2m wide path the whole way. We reached the top about 10:40am and the weather was reasonably shitty with clag and a cold wind. From here we headed straight off the ridge and into the head waters of the Waiohine and red line for all of us.
It was reasonably tricky travel down into the Waiohine and we stopped for lunch in the head of the river at midday. The flats are not as open as they look from Carkeek and Tarn ridges with quite a few boggy patches and boulders. But as we headed down further they opened up more and we passed an awesome camp site. We soon entered the bush at the junction of the second stream entering the Waiohine and we found the spur heading up onto Carkeek ridge.
There were a few track markers at the bottom of the spur but it soon became overgrown but travel wasn’t too bad. We met up with the track I had come down with Dave and Jeremy in August last year and we were soon on Carkeek ridge after disturbing a deer.
We reached the hut at 3:30pm, about 9 hours after we had started and Mike was pleased to find that he had beaten Johnny and Terry who were coming in via Holdsworth. Johnny and Terry turned up at about 4 pm and had come in via Mcgregor spur as the weather was too shitty to go via the tops.
We had an awesome night at Carkeek hearing them talk about the club and we also informed them about the present state of it and all of the current gossip which Johnny wanted to know. Mike was pleased to read all the Vic entries in the log book and to see that the Carkeek tradition he and Richard Haverkamp started was continuing today. Terry had a cellphone with him so they rang up Harpo on Codfish island and gave him a tirade of abuse for about 2 minutes and told him he was a piker for not coming to Carkeek. We asked if they always abused Harpo and Terry said if they didn’t he would think something was wrong. Adrian wanted them to tell him that we were impressed with stories about his fitness and spading but Terry said if they did we would see his head swelling from here. The rest of the night was made enjoyable by whisky, port, red wine, a good meal, and a roaring fire which Alan didn’t want (because he had a Norwegian sleeping bag).
The next morning dawned fine and clear. Mike and Alan headed out over the tops to Kiriwhakapapa via Table ridge and Johnny and Terry went out via the tops back to Jumbo and the road end. Adrian wanted to bag McGregor spur so we went back that way.
It didn’t take long for us to get to McGregor bivvy so we hung out there in the sun for a while and then on top of McGregor itself for lunch. The views were amazing and we could see Tapy, Taranaki, and Ruapehu. We were watching out for Terry and Johnny but couldn’t see them so set off for Jumbo and the road end at 1:10pm. We got out at 4:30pm and made a brew as we waited for Johnny and Terry.
We thought they might have gone out to Kiriwhakapapa with Mike and Alan but they turned up at 6:30 pm after coming right around the tops (an 11.5 hour day). We were pleased to see them as it was getting quite cold at the road end in the dark.
On the way back to Wellington Adrian quizzed Johnny about climbing and Terry told us about 14 day off track epics in Fiordland that he had done. He definitely convinced me that it’s a trip worth doing and that’s the plan for this summer. It was an awesome trip into Carkeek and thanks to Mike and Terry for the transport.
We were:
Eric Duggan (scribe)
Adrian Barr
Lost Sheep Tourists:
Mike Sheridan
Terry Patterson
Johnny Mulheron
Alan Stowell
“Oh I’ll tak the high road and you’ll tak the low road…..”The romantic panorama of twelve brave Scotsmen (I have been told that the lassies fall under this category as well) eight of whom were kilted, led by Adrian Pike – wearing a full, white shirt, tartan sash and kilt, lacking only a Claymore – was disrupted by Ben as he whipped out the phone and brought them back to the twentieth century (Fox).
“And I’ll be in SCOTLAND afoooorre ye!….”
The strained wail floated out over the mist clad mountain.
“And something, something, something, pom te pom te pom…..”
“Stop everyone I’ve got to call Matt on the cellphone”
Not long after, however, those who were in the hills on the third of May 1997 would have seen a frightening sight – nine screaming Celtic warriors attempting a Scottish war charge, bounding o’er brack and burn, yelling something that sounded very much like “Arrrgggggh!” Hair and kilt flying (or in Julian's case a tartan tie around his waist) they ran down the hill not to massacre a neighboring clan but to pose for a photo.
Of course some of us really didn’t think we’d survive. Had this been ‘Braveheart’ or ‘Rob Roy’ we would have had horses to ride for starters. Where Adrian got this mad idea of Scotsmen walking such vast distances I do not know. I mean as a cast member having no director or lawyer for this particular role was already beginning to present some problems. There was the high possibility that we’d be arrested in Burger King either by a fearful public or enraged authentic Scotsman. As is happened the looks we got from families in the neon-lit restaurant were incredible.
However this was nothing compared to the brush with death on the Otaki forks road when Adrian (our film budget did not stretch to limmo’s) driving Julian's mums’ stationwagon at over 100kph [it was closer to 70 asst. ed.] suddenly pulled off a right angled turn to his left because he nearly missed a corner! I think the whole mad Scotsman thing was getting to him as he never would have done it in his own car. Then it got worse. He nearly did it again. At this point we were all slightly shaken, having nearly rolled the first time and Julian insisted on driving. Angela (from Massey) was quite convinced she’d gone tramping with a bunch of lunatics and thought she’d rather walk. I would like to point out that Adrian is usually a careful driver but if he’s feeling like Braveheart don’t get into a car with him [there were extenuating circumstances that I don’t have time to go into here, it wasn’t all my fault, Julian's demister was in the wrong place asst. ed.]. It makes you want to throw the whole contract away, storm off to TVNZ and demand a role in Shortland Street (please, anything but that). But….I tell a lie. Nothing on this planet could compare with the wild experiences of this trip and so the legend rolls on……..
Having spent Friday night in Field Hut they made their way up to Kime for lunch. Although it was misty there was no wind. After a tearful parting with Julian who was returning to town, they decided to continue and get to Alpha on Saturday night for the anticipated Haggis, hairy legs and dwarf tossing competitions. Most people they met on the track and in huts were suitably impressed with the kilt-wearing and general mad conversations that were going on.
After a hefty climb to Mt. Hector (but we Scotsmen are tough right?) a number of interesting things happened. Melinda began Highland dancing, Michele and Ben fell over each other while the more sane and sensible of the group (Chris, Tim, Angela, Nyree, Jonathan and Kathryn) stood around discussing the mist, cold and beautiful views of the Wairarapa.
Soon it was time to move off again and they headed around onto the Beehives where an icy cold wind struck with full force as they turned due South. Rain coats and wool were hastily brought out and even Adrian put some Polypro on under his cotton shirt which was in danger of freezing to his back. And so the brave Scotsmen trundled past the Beehives, over Atkinson, round the Dress Circle and at the bottom of Alpha were bedazzled by a spectacular view of the Tararuas as they emerged from a big cloud blanket to the North.
Up on Alpha they were rewarded with an even better view and much scroggin
was snapped up with delight. Ben began to promote his photography trip
and tried to sell his camera. Chris, Kathryn, Richard, Tim, Jonathan and
Angela headed down to scout out Alpha Hut for enemy clans and were joined
by the rest of the troop half an hour later. That night the whole Scottish
theme got under way as Melinda continued the decoration of the hut books.
So far there had been a sheep playing Bagpipes, a sheep in a kilt and now
she attempted the Scottish flag. Unfortunately there was a real Scotswoman
in the hut who told them that the flag was the blue cross, not the red……
“Quiet in the cheap seats” said Adrian. She also asked if he was going
to read Robbie Burns’ address to the Haggis but in the end he was a) too
scared [I never was: asst. ed.] and b) couldn’t be bothered.
The Haggis – ah yes. What a culinary delight after one hour of solid
boiling in the club billy. All the Scotsmen tried this combination of guts
in a sheep’s stomach on Highland Oatcakes rather dubiously. The general
feeling was summed up by Kathryn when she stated that it was quite nice
but tasted like cat jellymeat. Adrian, mortally offended, proceeded to
eat some more to show us we were just a “Bunch of big girls blooses.”
So we ate some more.
“And when we chasten’d him therefore,
Thou kens how he bred sic a splore,
And set the warld in a roar
O’ laughing at us:
Curse thou his basket and his store,
Kail and potatoes.”
(from ‘Holy Willie’s prayer” by Robert Burns)
Angela at this stage (although a tough Territorials veteran used to eating all sorts of shit) drew the line at eating Haggis. She was then told that if she didn’t eat the Haggis she would not get any Scotch. With much persuasion she did and the evening proceeded with a toast to Adrian with Scotch and mineral water (he said I was a cretin when I suggested mixing it with Raro – he was right) for organising the trip.
All being enthusiastically “Scottish” – the hairy legs competition began. The winner of the lads section was Jonathan measuring in at 1.8cm. Michele took out the lassies prize with 8mm long high density leg hair. Both were presented with a useful razor as a prize. Alas, the dwarf (Michele) tossing competition, although talked of, never eventuated. Michele also “forgot” her recorder (bagpipes) so we were unable to welcome the dawn the next day.
With the rest of the people at Alpha asleep we were considerate and went to bed only to wake up bright and early to a fantastically fine day – a day we would spend groveling down Marchant Ridge. Chris, his group, plus Jonathan and Kathryn left early whilst Adrian, Ben, Michele, Nyree, Angela and myself stayed to clean the hut. Poker was played while Angela and I swept the floor being good bonnie lassies and all. Ever tried sweeping with a broom that has no handle?
Just as we were leaving Alpha we found a big red torch. ‘O whose could it be?’ we asked. Angela wrote Alpha Hut on it in vivid and we left it as it was too heavy “Bags not!” to carry out. Later on we discovered it was Chris’ – deary deary me, sorry Chris. Nothing much happened on the way out – it was quiet, it was peaceful, it was Scottish – although by this time I was wondering what ‘Scottish’ actually meant to someone not brought up in the culture at all. A harkening back to Celtic ancestors perhaps? Nevermind, I’ll find out when I go there. The two most interesting happenings were when Adrian and Ben had a big fight and Nyree decided to attack a gorse bush by falling into it head first.
Our group ended the trip with a final Scottish charge down to the Kaitoke road end to be met by our long lost comrade Julian who brought us real orange juice, Neal and a rather forlorn looking Jonathan who said that Matt’s car had broken down. Well, the cell phone had died on Marchant Ridge so all we could do was pile into the cars and drag race down the Hutt road to pizza at 377 Ohiro Road.
The Scottish Southern Crossing was truly an epic adventure – I hope there will be more – a Northern perhaps? Enthusiasm continued as we wore kilts to the next meeting and Adrian took a dare to wear his outfit ‘round varsity and through (heaven help us) the quad which he did so in good humour and was rewarded with a flat white and a muffin. I think everyone had a thoroughly good time – so here’s to Scotsmen, tramping and Auld Lang Syne……..
The twelve Scotsmen:
Adrian Pike (Bonny Mad Clansman)
Melinda Short (Dancer in a kilt and scribe)
Angela Smith (Hardcore Scottish Lieutenant and vet)
Nyree Bace (Scottish gorse worshipper)
Tim Ingleton, Richard Pedley and Jonathan Rau (Scottish tough guys)
Kathryn Martin (Scottish speedster with nice white top)
Chris Fitzgerald (Claims he’s an Irish O’Neill)
Julian Boorman (Scottish guy wearing a tie for a kilt – thank goodness
we didn’t go the whole haggis and wear no underwear!)
Ben Wiles (Scottish photographer extraordinaire)
Michele Cunningham (Scottish Lass wearing “baby poo” yellow kilt)
Booboo (bear wearing tartan boxers)
Alexis and I decided before our exams that as soon as they were finished we were getting pissed and going for a four day tramp. We managed to fulfil the first objective on Friday 7 November at a Geology keg party. Then on the 9th we set off for our tramp. Now we felt that any tramp that is longer than 3 days must take in Carkeek and so it was decided. Having established that we would take in Carkeek we then decided that we would start at The Pines and tramp through to Kaitoke.
Well we reached The Pines at about 10:00 am on Sunday courtesy of Batten Transport Ltd. Our route was to take us up Mitre and along to Dorset Ridge for the first night. However, as we neared the bush line of Mitre I began to feel like my stomach was being squashed by a trash compactor. Alexis said I was just being soft, so I said that I could prove it if he wished. That shut him up for a while but he soon began calling me soft again. The weather had also turned for the worse and what was a sunny day began to resemble true Tararua weather. At Girdlestone we decided that our best course of action was to go to Tarn Ridge (Fridge) for the night. On our arrival there it was great to see that the wood cupboard was locked and that there wasn’t any inside, so we immediately got into our sleeping bags. We didn’t leave pit, except for times when it would be more uncomfortable if we didn’t, until the next morning. During the night the weather did its worst dumping about 2-3 cm of snow all around us. It was at this stage that I was glad that I was in the Tararuas and not at Mt. Cook with Eric and Dave because I was sure that if the weather was this bad up here it would be a hell of a lot worse down there (something which I later found to be true).
The next morning I was still feeling the effect of whatever it was that had slowed me down the day before but we still decided that Carkeek had to be reached. So we headed off along Tarn Ridge, through all the new snow until we came to our spur that we were going to follow into the Waiohine Valley. This spur would let us join up with the first spur on the eastern side of Carkeek Ridge north of hut. Route finding wasn’t a problem through all this and we made it to the Hut at midday. It was great to see that some thoughtful hunters had left the intestines of their kill on the helicopter pad for us to nearly step on. After a quick bite to eat we headed for Nichols Hut via Park Forks. As we neared the bottom of Carkeek Ridge my nose decide that it was going to bleed like the Waiohine in flood. We kept on walking and eventually it stopped bleeding. We got to the start of the track up to Nichols and found the markers okay but immediately lost them as we began I walk up the spur. We decide that we couldn’t be bothered trying to find the track and just simply followed the spur straight up. This lead us back on to the track eventually anyway and after that we followed it all the way to the bush line. It was such a great day when we got to the tops that we sat down for a bit looking down upon our intended destination, Nichols. This, however, lead us to consider going on to Anderson’s Hut and after a moment or two of deliberation we decide that it indeed was a good idea. So, after going down to Nichols and having a look inside we headed off for Anderson’s. We eventually got to Anderson’s at about 6:30 - 7:00 p.m. I was absolutely shagged at this stage having never been 100% the whole day and so I was grateful at being able to put my feet up for a moment as we cooked dinner. I struggled to eat my allotted 250g of pasta that night but eventually I forced it all down. That night I was continually getting up to go for a slash outside, which was a bit of a problem for Alexis as he was sleeping beside the door which wasn’t exactly quiet to open. He got me back later that night, however, snoring like a freight train going through a tunnel.
The next day it was off to Neill Forks Hut. This had always been a Hut that I thought I would never get to because it a bit out of the way. Well on this day the Tararuas really decide to turn it on for us. It was windy, raining, and generally miserable. The trip over to Maungahuka was all pretty uneventful except for the fact that I had come to the realisation that the rest of the trip was going to be a battle, in terms of my physical state. Once at Maungahuka we had to find the correct spur to head off down. This proved a little difficult in clag and gusting winds. However, we did find it and began our descent to Neill Forks. The trip down to Neill Forks Hut was worth it as it was located in a great spot and the hut will be even better when the Potbelly, that is currently resting peacefully under the bunks, is erected.
Well it pissed down that night and the next morning the rivers were up and the wind was beyond gale force. Having thought the weather was bad the day before this was just insane. We weren’t to sure if we were going to be able to get out down the Tauherenikau and the prospect of having to go up Block XVI wasn’t that inspiring. The wind was so strong that it was tilting trees so that their roots were coming out of the ground. as a result of this we had to watch out were we placed our feet because it would have been easy to have them crushed. Once we had made it on to Cone Ridge we had to find the track that we were going to take over to Cone Hut. It took a bit of searching for but we eventually found it, well we found a stream were the track should have been. So we followed the stream (which had its own track markers) until we came to the exposed part of the ridge. We set off over the ridge and although the wind was strong it wasn’t as bad as we had anticipated. Then the gust hit. This was the first time I had even been blown off my feet and as I was getting up I saw that Alexis had also been blown over. After this it was a matter of running in between the gusts. This created a little problem in that you had to be prepared to stop running immediately and brace for the wind, something that I didn’t always manage to co-ordinate that well. We eventually made it to the other side and took a moment to compose ourselves. Having reached Cone and had a bite to eat we headed off to see how bad all the streams were down the valley. Things didn’t look good as the river raged beside us, however it hadn’t been raining for a while so we figured that the streams may have had a chance to die down. This was to be the case, which meant that we didn’t have to climb up Block XVI. We eventually reached the road end and had about half-an-hour to wait before Batten transport Ltd. turned up.
Party:
Dan Batten
Alexis Lambeck
I am one of the lucky few that gets three days off for my week-ends, a small compensation for working shift work. With spring approaching I decided it was time to knock off a couple of those elusive few huts. I decided to do it by myself but as chance would have it, Sarah needed to get rid of some annual leave so she was keen to come along. The trip was fairly basic with a night at Oriwa Biv being the most important destination. We arrived at the road-end on a beautiful week day morning, and made our way up to Waiopehu for lunch.
We made good time up the hill, (well good for me) and got the opportunity to finally lay eyes on the infamous Edwards Shelter. Definitely as bad as they all say, interesting that the only boggy bit in the vicinity of the hut is the one which the hut sits on. We stopped for lunch at the Waiopehu hut, finally bagged the bastard, then proceeded onward and upward to the top of Waiopehu. We got some fabulous views from the track on Waiopehu of the Twins, Richards Knob and surrounding peaks. The ridge around to Te Matawai looked pretty darned easy so we were quite confident that we would make Te Matawai regardless of the weather.
The good weather also meant that we didn't have any trouble locating the ridge to Oriwa Biv, so we headed down into the bush. We had been prewarned about the leatherwood bash down onto the ridge but we were pleasantly surprised to find a crudely cut track through the worst of it. So we made good time down to the open bush. We cautiously navigated our way onto the main ridge and then set our compasses for a direct route south to the biv. Travel along the ridge was fairly straightforward, but we kept the pace slow to prevent any stupid mistakes of wandering off the ridge. We arrived at the biv at around 5-5.30 in the evening - a good 8 hour day. It had taken us nearly four hours from Waiopehu but we hadn't made any errors which was the main thing!!
I was pleasantly surprised to find the biv very cosy and dry with a new water tank. Nice wee spot beside the legendary lost lake and a small hydrology station.
Overnight I was awoken to the sound of thunder and the harsh pelt of hail on the metal roof. The hail continued for the rest of the night and by morning it had not let up. A peek out the door showed the ground white with hail, not a particulary pleasant day!! It was agreed that spending the day in the biv was too boring and we decided to press on for Te Matawai. The pelting hail kept us moving and we were along the ridge and on Waiopehu within less than an hour and a half. Considerably quicker to when we came in!! The trip over the ridge to Te Matawai was quick as we kept on moving to keep warm. I used my map on the Twins to protect my face from the hail and by the time we arrived at the hut it had turned to paper mache!
We arrived at the hut in the early afternoon so we spent the rest of the day drying things out by the fire. I was unsuccessful in resurrecting my map! By evening the rain/hail mixture had stopped and we sat outside on the steps to watch the cloud slowly clear away from Pukematawai. Te Matawai hut is pretty ugly but it certainly has a fabulous view!
The next day dawned fine with a fresh layer of snow on the surrounding peaks - quite a sight!! We wandered down the Yeates 500 to the South Ohau hut and proceeded down a somewhat flooded gorge. I don't like this gorge at the best of times but this time was the worst, wading through chest - waist deep water, it didn't take long before we were getting pretty cold. But we soon warmed up in the sun after the fork to North Ohau and were feeling good again by the time we reached the derelict Ohau Shelter. On the walk out I was shocked to discover the historic no. 8 wire bridge had been replaced by a sturdier model. Oh well you never know, great numbers of trampers could have been killed by the 2m drop into the creek.
We walked out in good time so I could sleep before starting work that night. A couple of days in the hills is a darned good way to spend a weekend.
Matt and I had planned a visit to this spot as part of our South Island trip. The route lies in the Westland National Park running up the Copeland River, and hence is called the Copeland track. It is a popular route as it ends at the Copeland Pass where mountaineers pop over from the Hooker Valley in the Mt Cook National Park.
The Copeland River is just south from the township of Fox Glacier and the track leaves from state highway six. We spent a night at the local budget accommodation at Fox Glacier betore we set off the next morning. A large group arrived at the holiday park during the evening, having that very ‘tramper’ look about them (ie they had all been sucked into that remarkable tramper rip-off; the petzel torch), and surprise surprise, who should be amongst them but an old vic tramping club member. (The VUWTC pestilence reigns supreme!!)
Matt recognised him as being around in 1989, (we are not going to name any names due to the privacy act thingy, but I can say that he still features on our SAR call up list). We had a wee yarn with him and the only present member he could recognise was,... you guessed it, Dave Walker.
The group he was with was a guided trip taken by a friend, so he decided to tag along, and of course it was the same trip we were doing. (Damn can’t have those hot pools to ourselves).
The guide (another Wellington boy) was very concerned about a river ~20 minutes from the hut having its bridge washed out. Matt and I couldn’t understand their concern as on the map the creek had an utterly pitiful catchment. So being the experienced trampers we were we just scoffed and said that WE were going REGARDLESS of the weather.
The day dawned fine, (fortunately for us after last nights boastings we couldn’t back out now!!) and we eagerly sped down to the road-end with our little guided companions. Trotting off ahead we expected to meet them on a lunch stop.
A couple of hours passed on a fairly uninteresting track with bush just like that in the Tararuas (where was all this famous Westland rainforest we kept hearing about?!!) until we came upon a scenic little creek. A middle aged man who had left a few minutes before us was there proudly cutting up one beauty of a brown spotted trout. Apparently he had just wandered along and saw these two jack fish fighting (spawning season, also illegal to take trout out of the side streams during spawning season, but you know what they say, its the illegal ones which taste best), he just tossed in a bit of nylon with a fly attached and next thing you know he has a lovely looking fish. Talk about luck!!
We continued on for a further 3 and a half or so hours along a boring, fairly average condition track when we reached the creek that our guided companions were concerned about, and can you believe it, its an avalanche chute!! Its horrendously steep and has danger signs ordering trampers to not stop whilst crossing the creek - so there is reason to worry about that one!! So we stopped midway to take a photo....
We arrived at Welcome flats hut after ~5-6 hours. A huge complex with mountain radio and excellent mountain views of Sefton (3157m), Footstool (2765m) and evil-looking side-peaks like Fang (2098m). The hut holds up to about 30 or so people and even has a men’s urinal as part of the dunny system! The hut is the type which makes you feel that you just pay way too much in rent for the flat!! If the luxury is too much for you there is a rather cosy rock bivouac enroute to the hot pools.
Ahhh yes,... the hot pools. Complete with a changing shelter, the hot pools lie in a bush surrounded open space facing the bluffs underneath Mt Glorious, with wisps of steam hanging over the green-gold algal flats. The pools have had some obvious human assistance with creeks dug to guide the spring down specific rivulets to form the three pools, all of differing temperatures. From very hot, hot, to just right! The thick sediment of mud and algae on the bottom is not as unpleasant as it sounds. A stick of insect repellant and an indolent frame of mind....Ahhhhh!
I would have to say that paradise does not come much closer than soaking in natural thermal pools on a starry night, with the moon lighting the surrounding peaks and illuminating the snow. With a glass of a little something you picked up from that lovely little winery on your travels, you can soak your tired muscles and get the odd tantalizing moonlit peek at the more naturalist members of our population.
Welcome Flat is not recommended for its tramp, with a rough track of rocks and mud which climbs just enough to make you think its flat and that it must be that damn bottle of wine which is making you feel so utterly shagged. The rivers often flood and most have emergency flood bridges but not all, so it is very easy to become trapped. It takes a realistic 5-7 hours and I even saw a 14 hour entry in the hut book.
Even so, this is a very popular route with the tourists, due to the hot springs at the other end. Personaly, I would have to agree that the hot pools make the trip worthwhile, but take a stick of insect repellant ‘cos those sandflies are fierce, especially during the summer.
If you are interested in the route the ‘101 Great Tramps in NZ’ by Mark Pickering and Rodney Smith give a good route description. But be careful, the bridge which is mentioned over Shiels Creek is no longer there, so it is an idea to get an update from DOC.
The forecast was for snow and wind for the next 3 days and we struggled with all our gear to White Horse Hill camp site to decide what to do. There were awesome views of Cook and Sefton and the cloud was starting to roll in over the main divide from the west. The warden at the camp site was also the warden for Wyn Irwin hut (which belongs to Canterbury Mountaineering Club (CMC)) and was only 5 minutes away. It had the best views in the area and it was only $5 to stay there if you joined CMC ($40). We decided to join CMC as it was an awesome base with gas, a shower, a heater and a lounge. We didn’t realise what a good decision it would be.
Also staying at Wyn Irwin hut were a group of three Australians; Chris, Gavin, and Joel. Chris was an experienced climber who has done a lot of climbing in Alaska and Peru and was showing Gavin and Joel (who were brothers) the Mt Cook area. There were also another couple of Australians; Terry and Kaz who had been up at Gardiner hut trying the Gledhill buttress on Nazomi, but they had been off route. Someone asked Terry what grade rock climbing he had done and eventually he told us he had once done a grade 29. Terry was also an experienced alpine climber who had climbed the north faces (Eiger, Matterhorn etc) in Europe.
We reached Mueller Hut just before 12 pm and had lunch inside which was like a freezer. Outside it was really warm and we practiced pitch climbing. Mueller hut is in a great location with views of Cook, Sefton and the head of the Mueller Glacier. You can look at the ice cliffs falling off Sefton and we saw a big avalanche on the South west face of Cook. Three ski tourers turned up later and one of them went to do multiple descents of Olivier (1933 m) which is about 100 m higher than the hut and just past it. His name was Sam Bosshard and he is an alpine guide at Mt Cook. Sam was a top man who suggested lots of climbs in the area that we could try.
Our plan was to climb Sealy the next day which is where Sam, Kobi, and Jen (the Ski tourers) were going. The forecast that night was not to good with 90 km/h north westerlies predicted for the afternoon.
We stayed in pit until 12:30 pm listening to the wind outside. Going to the toilet required full storm gear, ice tools and even crampons because the ridge had iced up. We spent all day playing 500 and it was bloody cold inside the hut. The forecast that night was for wind, rain, and then snow the next day so we decided we would leave first thing.
We decided the plan was to go to Sefton Biv on the 14th and then climb the Footstool on the 15th with Chris and Joel, who were then going to climb Sefton the next day. Unfortunately it was Gavin’s last night and he was going back home the next day.
That night we went to the pub with the Australians who then went to the buffet dinner at the Hermitage afterwards for $ 35 each. Dave and I got $ 2 chips for dinner. Near the end of dinner we went into see them and some of the waiters said we could help ourselves. We didn’t believe them but Joel brought back a big plate of oysters, mussels, prawns and crab meat for us. The food wasn’t bad for free.
After a good feed we set off for the Biv at 5:30 pm. We tramped in to the Hooker shelter and then turned off and headed towards the Stocking Glacier and the route up the side of it and onto the ridge up to Sefton Biv. It was a beautiful clear night and we found the biv at 9 pm just before it got dark because Joel was looking for a place to take a dump. We all got in the biv and played 500 waiting for the snow to freeze.
Our route took us directly above the biv until we were above some ice cliffs and then northwards to a distinctive notch on the east ridge of the Footstool. It was a reasonably steep face across to the notch so we intermittently traversed while front pointing and used French cramponing technique. We then crossed over the notch onto a steep face above the Eugenie Glacier, which lead across to the Main Divide. It was along way down to the glacier and you didn’t want to fall here so we moved with deliberate placements.
Just before the Main Divide we could see some possible Schrunds so we decided to rope up for Glacier travel. Once we got onto the Main Divide we were exposed to the north-west wind and it was quite cold. We were now about 400 m below the summit which was reached via a reasonably steep but wide ramp. The first part of the ramp wasn’t too steep but then it steepened considerably and then flattened out a bit. The ramp then got steeper again and we started to move onto lumpy hard ice which you could hardly penetrate with your crampon points and could only get the axe in a couple of millimetres. It was 4:15 am and time was getting on so we decided to turn back and get back for our bus. We were probably only 50-100 m short of the summit.
I was in the front pointing position and about 10 m above Dave. I was turning around to head down forwards when I slipped and I was sliding down trying to self arrest. The snow was far too hard to plunge the axe into so Dave dropped into the self arrest position to try and hold the fall but I was moving too fast and pulled him off the mountain (as we had foolishly stayed roped up after crossing the glacier). He bounced off my head and I ended up sliding down face first. I don’t really remember what I did but I shoved out my axe and flipped over and managed to self arrest as we reached the flatter section of the ramp. Dave was lying on the ground not moving but he was only winded and luckily I wasn’t hurt either. We quickly unroped and headed down cautiously and over the Eugenie Glacier to the notch and down to safer ground on the slopes above the biv. It was now about 5:45 am and the snow was now considerably harder. There was also a big cloud layer obscuring everything below us.
As we descended into the cloud layer we entered into a complete white out and it began to rain and then snow. Luckily it occasionally cleared enough for us to see our footprints and crampon marks although it was reasonably hard to pick a route near the bottom. We undershot Sefton biv but recognised the ridge we had come up to get to the biv before the climb and were back at the biv at 7 am.
Chris and Joel had been up at 4:30 am but the weather was to shit too do anything. Dave and I were pretty shagged without any sleep and headed back down to the village through the falling snow at 7:30 am. We got back at 10:15 am and were on the bus to Christchurch at 1 pm.
We were:
Eric Duggan (scribe)
Dave Hodson
Early in the year we got a call for a search behind Wainuiomata involving an injured T.T.C member who had fallen over a waterfall. We all met at the police station and were off via police vans to Wainuiomata. After waiting for the T.T.C team to finish ordering their food we were eventually dropped off at the correct road end. It was a warm night and Dan and I were carrying half the Ferno-Washington stretcher each.
After an hour and a bit we had to wait for the team who had started ahead off us but had gone via a slower track. Soon a couple more teams turned up and there were about a group of 25 of us walking along to the accident site. We got there in another hour and a few went down to the victim while the rest of us stayed the night. It had been too misty for the rescue helicopter so we waited till the morning to see if it would clear or if we were in for a stretcher carry.
Luckily it cleared the next morning so we all walked out to the welcome sight of the red cross food cart. We were just finishing the food when we were called out to another rescue in Eastbourne. We all stopped on top of the Wainuiomata hill but the helicopter was able to grab the injured person.
The next search I was involved in this year was for a couple of missing American students on Marchant Ridge in June. The media cocked it up and said they were missing university tramping club members. Anyway Dan, Nathan, Brendan and I met down at the police station and since we were the first team ready we were told we were heading out to the airport for a helicopter trip to Marchant ridge. We were pretty excited but played it cool and reluctantly accepted the ride. Phil, one of the SAR advisers also came with us.
The helicopter journey was an awesome trip across the harbour and up the Hut Valley to Kaitoke road end. We circled above the carpark and then followed the track up to Dobsons shelter and then up onto Marchant ridge where the pilot touched us down perfectly just off the track. We jumped out into a cool breeze and were told to search to Alpha Hut. Then 5 minutes later the helicopter was back. The 2 missing girls were just up the track and soon we all landed down at the carpark just as the other teams arrived by vehicle. The media turned up also and we got our 15 seconds of fame on the TV News (even if it was only our backs).
Everyone headed back to Wellington and one of the policemen made room in a van for us but Phil told him it’s alright, we’ve got our own ride. We then got back in the Westpac helicopter and flew back to Wellington. The airport was busy when we got back so we had to hover at the southern end of it for a few minutes with awesome views of the Kaikoura’s. All in all it was a good search.
In October this year we were called out to Days Bay to search for a suicidal man. At about midday we heard over the radio that Dan has forgotten his lunch. Since I was searching with Dan and he hadn’t forgotten his lunch we knew it was a code to head back to base. We came back to William’s Park and found out that a body had been found.
We were all playing hacky-sack when they asked for a couple of volunteers to take the police photographer to the body. Dan and I volunteered and soon they had sent us up the wrong stream. Eventually they had sorted out where to send us and after an hour we arrived at the body. Dan and I helped move him into a body bag and waited for the Westpac to pick it up. Andy Warnes and Terry X Patterson had hitched a ride across with the helicopter and had to be turfed out first of all, as there was too much weight. After that the helicopter came back and we lifted up the body so it could be hoisted away.
In June this year Dan and I noticed the first real snow fall on the Tararuas so we headed in for a day trip from Holdsworth. I took my telemark skis and Dan took some snow and ice tools.
We left Wellington early and were gone from the road end in the dark at 6 am, and it was bloody freezing. The walk along the Atiwhakatu was interesting with the skis on my pack wanting to catch on every tree. We reached the hut at sunrise and started to head up the raingauge spur to Jumbo hut. We were both feeling reasonably shagged so we took our time, and it was still bloody cold with the sun out.
There wasn’t as much snow as we thought there would be and we didn’t reach it until raingauge clearing. Outside Jumbo hut there was only about 10-15 cm and there was a warden just doing his sked when we arrived. After a bit of a feed we headed up to find some more snow. The snow only just covered the rocks but I spied a slope just north of Jumbo peak. The cloud was starting to roll in from the west at this time and the weather was getting quite shitty.
After a couple of turns I was satisfied that I had telemarked in the Tararuas and we headed back to Jumbo. We were both pretty tired so we lay down for a rest. I wedged myself between two mattresses for warmth and went to sleep for several hours. At about 1 pm Dan woke me up and we headed back down to the carpark and back to Wellington.
It wasn’t much of a ski but I did as the slogan says; “free the heel, free the mind”.
We were:
Eric Duggan (scribe)
Dan Batten
The Vic Tramping Club has been heavily involved in SAR this year, with over twenty club members joining the First Response Team. On most call outs we managed to muster up at least one team (with the exception of New Years Day and the Smith search in the Orongrongos where only half a team was found). Most training courses throughout the year were heavily populated with Vic members (albeit the same people going to all the courses).
The training calendar culminated in the Annual SAREX held over the weekend of 5-7 December in the Eastern Hutt River catchment. The club provided two teams, Tararua 3: Caroline Duggan, Melinda Short, Gavin Holden and Alan Graham(TTC), Tararua 4: Brendan Mosely, Jeremy Bray, Anjali Pande and Julian Boorman, a runner: Craig Duncan, two patients: Sarah Devon and Adrian Barr, and Dave Walker was a controller at Base.
The weekend started with a game of hacky sack at Base at the Kaitoke Regional Park in the wind and drizzle. Some people took advantage of the leftover pizza from Base. Luckily no one consumed any of the chicken pizza which was later to cause mild forms of food poisoning to some people. Later that evening was a general briefing for the weekend, followed by a helicopter briefing and tasking for the first scenario. The Air Force provided an Iriquois and crew for the weekend. The briefing covered winching (however they were not planning to do any winching over the weekend), approaching the helicopter and how to put on the seatbelt. We were also told to hand over any gas canisters when climbing on board so if the crew started to smell gas the canisters would be thrown overboard as opposed to discarding the packs until they couldn’t smell gas any more.
Teams 3 and 4 were tasked to be ready to leave by 6am (earlier than planned in case the weather was too bad to fly and the locations had to be changed). On arriving at Base tent at 6am we were told to come back at 8am as everything had been put back to the original schedule due to fine weather. We sat in the sun drinking numerous cups of tea (kindly supplied by the Red Cross) listening to the chopper take off without us till 7.40am when we were deployed by Police 4wd to the Hutt Forks to commence our tracking scenario. Neither team completed their scenario particularly well, the blame mostly put on insignificant tracks left by our respective patients.
The morning scenario finished a little late and on returning to our start point there was no time for a debrief. Instead we were given 30 minutes to get to the chopper site which was approximately 2km upriver and over a 300m climb. The two teams set off and due to the different fitnesses the ten people ended up being spread over a large area. While going over the hill the policeperson attached to Brendan’s, team (Team 4) began to suffer from asthma which necessitated a member from Team 3 having to run over the hill to find Melinda who had an asthma inhaler. In the end Julian and Anjali arrived at the chopper site in time to be put in with another team while Team 3 and the rest of Team 4 arrived in time to hear that the chopper was having mechanical problems and had to go back to Base while the necessary guidance from Auckland was sought to fix the problem.
Team 3 and what was left of Team 4 were asked to walk to our next scenario, arriving two hours later as most other teams were finishing. On arrival at the Eastern Hutt Hut we were told we didn’t have 100% commitment by the Advisor there (fine for him, he had spent the afternoon asleep in the sun, we were quite keen for a break first). Five minutes after starting our scenario however it was finished as our patients had to walk out of the valley, due to the camping restriction in the valley. No one is allowed to camp in the water catchment area but permission had been granted for 30 people to camp there for the SAREX - in the end there were probably close to 60 people staying in the area that night.
On Sunday morning the two Vic teams joined together for the ropes scenario which involved finding a missing hunter up a steep stream bed and then rescuing him. The two teams worked really well together in getting a person to abseil down to the patient and then setting up an assisted hoist to get him out of the stream bed onto the ridge and then walking him down to the river. We were the only groups to set up a fly and get a cup of tea for the patient and rescuers!
The chopper had been repaired overnight and was back in action for Sunday. The teams were flown out from the Eastern Hutt Hut site back to Base in time for lunch from the Red Cross and a debrief of the exercise. Both teams felt it had been disappointing on Saturday with the way things had turned out. It was understandable that the transport can break down but having recently completed a First Aid Course many of us were looking forward to the first aid scenario which we missed. However with Sunday morning’s exercise being successful the weekend finished on a high note.
On the Tuesday following the SAREX came an opportunity to put into practise the skills learnt. On the Monday night I was lying in bed having a dream where the phone was ringing incessantly. I woke up and the phone was still ringing. Being the middle of the night (12.30pm) I had a fair idea what the phone call was about. I raced down the hall and sure enough it was one of the search advisors, Terry Patterson, wanting one team to be at Wgtn Central Police Station at 7.30am the next day to look for a woman with a history of mental illness lost in QEII Park. Ringing people at that hour of the morning always receives interesting responses, particularly if they live with their parents. Ringing a flat tends to get a rude reply, along the lines of what the hell are you ringing at this hour for. When parents answer they tend to say He / She is in bed asleep. To which I normally answer Can you wake him / her up please? On ringing one member her father told her Caroline is on the phone about some research:. Oh well, close enough!
By 1.30am a team had been found and I set my alarm for 7.00am. I woke at 7am and rang Terry Its Caroline Duggan here, I was supposed to ring you this morning but I can’t remember what for? To tell me you have a team and whether they require transport he replies. Most other clubs generally make their own way out to searches but university students either don’t have cars or are too cheap to use them so take Police transport. The missing person was found but unfortunately died on the way to hospital and the team was back home by early afternoon and my role as club contact was over.
My thanks to those involved with this particular search, and to those
who made themselves available for all the other callouts this year, whether
they made it only as far as the police station, or spent time in the hills
and got their first ride in the Westpac Rescue helicopter, or a raft trip
down the Hutt Gorge. The Vic club members are known for their enthusiasm
and ability to find a team (particularly with so many government employees).
I hope this lasts for 1998 as well.