Saturday is drizzly but spirits are high and skirts are short—Dave’s and Mark’s that is, adopting the cross-dressing spirit with ease and style. A perfect double rainbow soon after leaving the hut raises our hopes for an improvement in the weather, but the wind is biting and the rain horizontal by the time we reach Kime. To go on, or not to go on? After some discussion agreement is reached that there’s little point in continuing on, as we’re obviously not going to get the hoped for views—only very wet and cold. Cards and chocolate help us while away the next 20 hours. Kylie’s thermometer (displaying a cool 4 degrees) more than confirms that a hut without a fire is not a hospitable place to be.
A somewhat disappointed group of seven, we retrace our steps the next morning. The turn off to Penn Creek approaches and I hear Quentin and Mark talking “options”. Rough but do-able. Plenty of time. Dave and I might stick with Field… transport wouldn’t work. I’m persuaded, so off to Penn Creek we head. The emerging sunshine and absence of wind as we fall steeply compensates for the overgrown track. Two hours later and we’re sunning ourselves at the club’s hut, deciding the river would be more direct and enjoyable than the track. Penn Creek is a pleasant amble with a few easy crossings. At the junction with the Otaki we decide to cut back up to the track fairly soon. The river is wider here, and deeper too as we soon discover. Crossing together now, looking for a spur that will take us out of the gorge.
Sometimes floating seems easier than clambering over the rocky edges,
as Kylie demonstrates. Since we’re all pretty wet, a quick dip and pack-float
doesn’t seem so bad but I’m cold when we get out.
The light is disappearing fast and there’s no obvious way up. We pass
a steep rocky slip, but return to it shortly deciding it’s the only option.
I spend most of the next two hours wishing I’d pumped a bit more iron at
the gym. Aching arms, unstable footholds, “Look out, rock!”, aching shoulders,
aching everything. The supplejack is unrelenting, wrapping itself around
legs and packs. Torches on, keeping together. Hamish is convinced it can’t
be far to the track. I need a rest, a drink, how’s everyone doing? Up,
up, we must hit the track eventually. Helping hands and pushes, encouraging
words, frustration showing. Exhaustion. Flat ground doesn’t exist here.
Huddling between Hamish and Kylie, thankful for my pack liner and dry sleeping
bag, the bump under my back only disturbs me occasionally.
We wake with rumbly tummies, thinking more of those who’ll be worried about us. Certain that the track is well below us, we cut down and across to a stream which we follow down, glad of a drink. Quentin has found the track marker—no wonder we overshot it in the dark! We’d been spot-on about our location and it’s only a couple of hours out to the carpark—and the telephone. Tired and hungry and sore (for several days) but happy none-the-less. Not what you’d plan for a trip, but the company was fine and what a way to get a day off work.
Alas no! This wasn’t your normal punter picnic, this was a Carkeek picnic. No leisurely jelly-tips on the riverbank for these picnickers, no playing petanque in the park for these trampers. Sixteen and a half hours of self-flagellation was on the cards here.
There were many people interested when the idea of a picnic was originally mooted. In a desperate attempt at bravado most people blanched and quietly (so no one could here them) acknowledged their interest in attending. However the days approaching the event saw the trampers differentiated from the Atiwhakatu day walkers. Only a few hardy souls remained – Dave Hodson, Rob Holmes, Eric Duggan, Dave Walker, Craig Duncan and yours truly.
Four of us ventured up to the Ohau road-end on the Friday night and camped. The other two went to Holdsworth. The odyssey began …
Hour 1
4.25am – Dave Walker yells – “time to get up”. We all got up reasonably easily – considering that it felt about 2 degrees outside and my sleeping bag was very, very warm. We stuffed some bananas down us and slowly started out onto the trail, heading for the Ohau river. Rob was grumbling because he found a reasonably large boulder embedded in the inner lining of his boot. He decided to do the picnic barefoot (oooh).
Hour 2
‘Slowly’ quickly turned to a canter as we dashed into the dawn up the Ohau river towards South Ohau hut. “I can’t keep this up”, I thought to myself…..
Hour 3-5
Got to South Ohau Hut at 7.30am (ish). Woke up some hunters who were doing the sensible thing and still sleeping. They looked at us kinda strange when we said that we were heading for Holdsworth ... today. I think one of them asked if we were taking a chopper there. Of course we didn’t have time to answer because we were gone - storming up our first hill for the day.
Hour 5-9
A quick burst up the Yeates track took us to Butcher Knob and the first exposure to the absolute shit weather. Wind and rain greeted us when we got to the top of Butcher. From there Dave’s cunning plan to bush bash was put into place. We dropped into the head of the Park river and straight up a nasty leatherwood covered spur to Carkeek ridge. This was nasty and grovelly, but it did save us a few hours.
Hour 9-11
A pleasant wander down Carkeek Ridge got us to Carkeek Hut at 2:00pm(ish) for a quick 10 minute lunch stop. Here we met Eric and Craig who had come the other way. They decided it was too late to go to Ohau so decided to head back to Holdsworth with us. There were some hunters at Carkeek who thought that we were nuts. We scoffed at them for getting a chopper to Carkeek – lazy, pie-eaters they were; and dashed out the door.
Hour 11-13
A quick jaunt down Carkeek ridge took us to Park Forks and then the final hill for the day – McGregor Spur. A couple of hours saw us at the bush line with failing light and a freezing president. So like a man possessed I virtually ran all the way to the top of McGregor Spur. Don’t ask me how – I just had to warm up.
Hour 13-14
Bitterly cold, pitch black and totally exhausted, we made our way along the tops in the sleet and snow to Jumbo hut. The hut was full of punters when we arrived at about 7:00pm. They laughed in disbelief when we said that we came from Levin. They were soon in reverential awe as we explained what we had done. They even gave us hot noodles and coffee.
Hour 14-16.75
From Jumbo we wandered down to the Atiwhakatu and out to the carpark. The Atiwhakatu track is usually no big deal, but after 15 hours of tramping it seemed a lot harder on my knees and ankles than it ever had. I almost collapsed walking up a section of hill ¼ the size of Mount Street. Dave and Rob ran it – just so they could show that they were the hard core of the hard core.
I have never been more relieved to see a road end as I was when I wandered
past the Holdsworth lodge at 10:00pm. Upon vowing to never subject
my body to this ever again, a quick drive to Masterton saw us down a much
deserved pie and a long sleep in the back seat of the car as we drove back
to Wellington.
I met everyone in Greytown and we were transported to the road end courtesy of Jeremy Haines and his ute; which I rode in the back of. My group was Julian Duerr and Duncan Elton and Hubert also had a group of three. The walk into Jumbo that night was nowhere near as cold as we might of thought. The only real excitement was a reasonable covering of snow from Rain Gauge clearing onwards making the track difficult to follow in the dark.
We eventually reached Jumbo around 11.30 pm finding it empty. I was glad to get into pit as my group was planning to head to New Tarn Ridge via Carkeek and the upper Waiohine the next day.
I woke early on Saturday to see clag hanging around the hut so decided
that we would
stick to the tops today and worry about Carkeek some other day.
We eventually left at 9 am with Hubert’s group not far behind. There
was quite a dumping of snow which made the travel difficult. The
cloud layer was not very thick and around about Angle knob we broke right
out of the cloud completely. This provided an incredible alpine scene
with the peaks just above the cloud layer all covered in snow. We
could have been in the Southern Alps or anywhere.
McGregor was hard work and the Broken Axe Pinnacles were interesting in the snow. However the sun was out and there was hardly any wind which made travel really quite pleasant. On top of Mid King we met parties from Tararua and Wellington Tramping and Mountaineering club. They headed off on their way with one continuing north to leave us tracks. We stopped for lunch and I gave Hubert a ring on the club cell phone to see how his group was going. They were just going over the BAP’s.
While we were eating our lunch we noticed a helicopter spending alot of time hovering around Girdlestone and Brockett. It then flew over us, came back round and passed us again only 10 m above us with the pilot waving hello. After that exhibition of skill we continued north towards Girdlestone.
I had a few conversations with Hubert on the club phone along the way and eventually we made it to Girdlestone, only 20 minutes away from New Tarn Ridge Hut. We got to the hut first before the Tararua group and unpacked our gear as one group after the other proceeded to also turn up. I had been there many times before and had never had to share it with another group. So it was with some dismay as I counted multiple TTC and WTMC groups turn up and walk in snow and mud onto the Hut floor. Hubert’s group also turned up just before dark.
As we cooked dinner we were surprised by Rob and Anke turning up well after dark. They had said they might make it in and it turned out they had come from Kiriwhakapapa that day via Table Ridge.
The next day was typical Tararua weather; high wind and low visibility. We waited for the other groups to leave and then headed out over Mitre. The wind was awesome at times; holding your weight if you chose to lean right into it. It was a reasonably quick trip over which gave us plenty of time in the sun at Mitre Flats. We eventually made it out to meet Jeremy who then ferried us north to Kiriwhakapapa to pick up Rob’s van.
Thanks to Jeremy for organising a good trip and providing the logistics in terms of transport.
It had been a steep track to the top. There I saw snow for the first time since I had left the nordic winter in February. From the top we could see the other side of the mountains and the carpet of clouds under us. On the way back we saw Powell Hut for the last time – it burned to the ground two weeks later!
We were happy we woke up to that morning. We had excellent weather, excellent scenery and above all excellent company. Thanks for the tramp!
| Scene and heard: Fat Dan – pegs broken, oh well off soon (we’ll
miss you!!). Steve Conn sends Head’s first V9 – named for the music – and
Derek a quick repeat. Climbing lionesses get messy at Rollergirls’ = a
good time. Matt’s friends youth and drunk (fun in Otaki?). Party time for
2/3 Johns, but the much vaunted golden arches failed to appear.
Rec Centre pumps; new routes at Fergs; and buffed boy gloats about a 24 – on rock? – not quite coke but still the real thing!! (Ask travellers). Boulders bouldered, uildings buildered (climbing virgins = new routes becoming harder to find), rock rocks and who loves NZOIA? Bogans and lit boys stick to beer, art and fast food, others hit Takaka, Auckland, Taupo…. Cold. No snow so rock forever. Hundred points, two hundred, 20 point bouldering day? – beyond the hordes!!! Other crazy numbers: 27, 26, V8, A17, WI 20… Means so much to so many (me included) Indoors strong as ever - slack jawed onlookers racked with desire –
not so seen. Don’t see Gums (Incredibly strange porn festival). Maybe see
Venus in Furs. See Dead Man. I’ve had 57 rest days in the last 60—overkill.
Moral of the story: pinky doesn’t like a full contact embrace. Hopefully withdrawal is almost at an end… See ya at the Rec, the gyms, the Head, the cliffs or a TC meeting – could rave forever (a good substitution. Intervention, voyage and bass frontiers IV all pumped) |
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