By Lewis Thomson, 28 January 2024
As Jack has so tantalisingly teased, here is the second part to the 'BIG C' and what fate befall the group that stayed behind to continue their epic tramp.
After bidding farewell to our high priest Jack Huygens, Lochie Tommy and I set off along the ridge. The clouds immediately came in and it all looked rather ominous, leading us to wonder whether Jack had been secretly chanting some spells to hold off the weather.
At Arete hut we had a bit of a think about where to go next. The original plan was Dundas hut, but due to worsening weather plan C was settled on, down triangle spur to Mangahao flats.
So we got to the top of Dundas, ‘the big D’. Though the peak is only 1499m, with Tommy standing on top of a survey peg I think we got it to 1501.5m.
Logan was much more impressive looking, and though tantalisingly close we decided we had to leave something for next time...
Down the spur to triangle knob there wasn’t much of a track, and the scrub wasn't very friendly either, even Tilly dog looked knackered. We passed the time by making the same joke over and over again, and luckily it never got less funny. Lochie later told me we actually very grumpy with each other but what can I say? I guess I choose not to remember these things.
Passing into the bush we followed a faint track (but a vintage classic apparently) to the Mangahao.
I was surprised to find Mangahao flats a big new hut including a large stock of backcountries to read.
That evening - maybe something about being in the eerily large hut all by ourselves - Lochie and I both got the heebeejeebees.
In the night Lochie mysteriously woke up feeling sick. After first blaming the water and the food, he eventually realised that it was the jersey he was using as a pillow - which was covered in dettol - so he had to go and sleep outside. He confirmed the next morning there were definitely ghoulies creeping around in the bushes but since he was so sick he didn’t mind if they came and took him.
The next morning we once again had no plan, Tommy wanted some more bush bashing in the Ohau but Lochie’s blisters were bad and so we decided to just go to Te Matawai, after a relaxing morning reading.
Tommy and I waded up the river for a bit, the wind shook it’s fist and the rain blew in. So up to te Matawai we went.
There was a poor TA walker at the hut who tried to tell us about his near death experience but instead we ran around in our long johns and climbed into the attic. He didn't try talking to us again after that.
Honestly it was a very pleasant evening, with that particular sense of camaraderie you get in the hills. Tommy sang Mozart’s Requiem in D minor, we chatted for ages, ate raw stock cubes, then ran out of gas so had to cook on the wood burner and eat half cooked lentils for dinner. Despie all the trials and tribulations it always seems to be that on the last night one wishes the tramp would keep going. No a man doesn't know when he's on a good thing.
The next morning Tommy tried to make a burner out of some tin cans, with moderate success.
From there it was just out down Gable end. Through the mud we went, and the hail came down in squalls. Thus back to the car. We finished off the trip with Lochie telling me I should move to Canterbury. He’s probably right, yet somehow I’m still here? With a big feed in levin we arrived back in civilisation for whatever it is you do there.
So concludes the trip summary. Another dose of dull solid fare in the tararuas with some staple virtues potentially learned along the way.