Tararua - Southern Main Range

Otaki, Kime, Waitewaewae loop

22 – 24 February 2013
Solo

The good thing about picking up tramping in the Tararuas after many years’ break is that everything is new and most trips go somewhere you’ve either been meaning to go for ages, or have forgotten most of the details from school and ‘varsity years.

The southern end of the Main Range is one of these. It sits there on the map and is visible from many vantage points, but weather and circumstances kept conspiring against knocking the bugger off.

This weekend I finally manage to get around to it.

After reading various accounts of parts of the trip on the web I decide to start from the south. The reasons are simple: I’m comfortable with a torchlight trip up the Judd ridge which gets the main climb out of the way before Saturday morning, the Tararua peaks are knocked off early in the trip, and as Kime Hut is going to be ripped down in two weeks, it’s the final chance to spend a night there.

The trip has loomed as a slightly daunting unknown. Looking at the maps it looks like a lot of exposed travel and there is the matter of the ladder and chains around Tuiti and Tunui; anything requiring that amount of engineering has got to be intimidating.

Friday – Otaki Forks to Kime

The weather forecast is good, but then 4 days out starts predicting cloud with strong southerlies on the Friday, and possibly cloud on the Saturday with winds dying. It stabilises at this, and I watch with a jaundiced eye as clouds bowl through Wellington all Friday. However, I decide to reserve judgement until Field Hut.

The phone goes just as I am about to beat an early exit so it is not until 5 that I’m in the car and heading for a traffic jam starting at Whenuatapu and lasting until Waikanae. Imagine doing this every day. The wind is whipping the trees around on the coast but the clouds clear quickly apart from some suspicious characters lurking around the hills.

In the end it’s 7.10pm when I leave the car at the overnight park (140m) and set out. The sun has left the grass flats, but I catch it on the toe of the ridge. This part is familiar after coming up with Mike under similar conditions a couple of weeks back. The sun is a little lower this time, so I see the same views but with sunset well advanced, and the air is once again perfectly still.

The new head torch comes out just before reaching Field Hut (830m) around 8.45. I stop long enough to have a chat to a couple of older guys doing the same loop over a couple more days, top up my water, jot a note in the log and head on up. By now it’s dark but above the bushline a half moon makes itself useful.

The wind picks up a little but I’m still just OK in a microfibre T-shirt and shorts.

At first there seems to be nothing to see outside the pool of torchlight on the track. But then the white flowers scattered along the track catch the eye as they seem to fluoresce in the light. And climbing higher the lights of Otaki then Paraparaumu show as clusters of orange on the horizon. The moonlight bathes the clouds which sit like a bad wig along the main ridge. At one point there is an almost invisible glow in the middle of the dark valley on the north of the ridge. Possibly Penn Hut, although I’ve never noted it by day.

The ridge climbs south-east and there’s only one direction to go on the easy-to-follow track. However, this also means the Southern Cross and Pointers are positioned for easy confirmation of the direction of travel. I keep this in mind for Bridge Peak and Hut Mound where the route flattens out and there are a couple of junctions.  More for practice than any real need.

The wind picks up further near the top of Bridge Peak (1400m) and it’s tempting to stop and rug up but it’s not long now so I settle for eating a late night dinner sandwich as I potter along under the moon. Far off the lights of the Hutt and Wellington smear the horizon. Eastwards the clouds hug the length of the main range, and I have already climbed above the lowest of them. I assume the light southerly is keeping my ridge clear.

The turn off for the main ridge at the top of Bridge Peak arrives and I think of Te Papa boss Seddon Bennington and his friend Rosie Jackson who died up here in poor conditions in 2009. It’s not 100% clear what happened but it seems that they didn’t act on weather forecasts and signs, or the warnings of other trampers. They may well have been in a frame of mind of the hut being so close they just had to push on and make it. Whatever the reason they ended up 800m down the main ridge track, 90 degrees off course. Without a tent they huddled in their bags under a survival blanket, she died there while at some point he left and died 300m up the track towards Kime. It gets you thinking about risk assessment and decision making in the hills.

Although familiar with the turn I take particular care to check tonight and take another fix from the Southern Cross. After Bridge Peak the track climbs over Hut Mound (1440m) and can be a little tricky to find as the rusted warratahs are not exactly high-vis. However it is on the same bearing and over the top of the Mound the wind instantly drops to nothing. There are no lights visible as I make my way down the water channels towards the hut.

Its 2220 when I arrive and I’m pleased to be there, after a little over 3 hours steady tramping and a climb of 1.3km, after a hard week sitting in meetings or in front of the computer. The hut is half full of building materials and there are two beds left. I waste no time in getting into my bag and settling down.

During the night two things get my attention; the wind gets up and slaps the hut around a little and I wonder what it will be like in the morning; then I hear something scampering around the hut, it sounds like a rat the size of a dog – I can even hear its toe nails clicking on the floor. However, I’m too tired to do anything except note that my pack (and food) is beside me on the top bunk and relax back into sleep.

Saturday – Kime to Waitewaewae

The hut is slow to rise, so with one of the builders I’m the first up. He confirms that they are up for 15 days at a stretch; that this hut will be closed on March 4 and that they will probably be pulling it down during the following week. His dog wakes and wanders around the hut sounding for all the world like a large rat.

Muesli from a bag for breakfast then I poke around the building site (framed up to roof height – just adding the final strapping before putting the roof trusses on), and take a few nostalgic pictures of the old hut on my phone. It’s 7.30 and the sun is up by the time I leave, taking pictures backwards as I go. It’s nippy enough for two layers and the wind is variable but not too bad.

 

From Hut Mound there is a track that cuts the corner to the Main Ridge Track. On reaching the track  the range can be seen to be mostly free of cloud although there are some wisps forming through some of the dips. The plan for today is to get to Anderson Memorial Hut and assess options.

The first action is to lose about 300 precious metres then meander up and down along the ridge, ticking off progress by the high points reached (ranging from 1138m at Boyd-Wilson to 1325m at the peaks). The Wairarapa is invisible under cloud which spills towards the range but never quite makes it. Behind, the stretch of Judd Ridge to the west is laid out in increasing detail and Field and Hector are bare against a clear sky. To the south, Winchcombe and Neill Ridge claim the horizon, dropping away from Hector and reminding me of a very similar morning when I was looking from there to here.

There is never quite anything seriously resembling cloud on the ridge today, wisps form in the air at a couple of points but these are dragged apart in the light wind and don’t form into anything significant. The light to mild southerly stays for the morning and becomes a very helpful coolant in the hot afternoon. Taking advantage of the conditions I stop frequently to take pictures, deeply regretting that I only have a very ordinary camera on my phone.

For most of the way along the ridge that morning I am trying to identify the Tararua Peaks and the location of the (in)famous ladder. I’m still a little apprehensive but can’t help thinking that it can’t be too much worse than some of the clambering on Neill Ridge. Finally the approach begins. The first action is a short scramble up a rocky climb and the drop off beside the (now very narrow) track starts to become precipitous rather than just steep. Ahead there is what looks like a vertical rocky wall across the route; in shadow it looks like the track can’t possibly go over it. It does and isn’t too bad, a scramble sure, but I reach the top without feeling that I have had to take undue risks.

At the top of Tuiti (which is where you find yourself) there is a short scramble across the north face of the peak and you make your way down to a rope that leads down into the cleft between Tuiti and Tunui. To me, this was the hairiest point but in the conditions not a sweat. The rope takes you across the cleft between the two peaks (from where you can really appreciate how steep these things are) to the top of the ladder. It was easy to step onto the ladder and although conscious of the amount of air below your heels it’s just a reminder to hold on tight and develop a bit of rhythm to the descent.

At the bottom of the ladder there are chains to sidle around and up onto the shoulders of Tunui but mostly I thought these were for comfort rather than strict necessity. Sitting to take a photo of the ladder (which will never quite capture the height and psychological impact of the thing) I hear from behind and above “Ah, here’s the ladder!”

The couple have left Maungahuka an hour ago and are making their way around the same loop as me (but in a clockwise direction). We chat for a while, me talking down the navigation of the peaks (no sense winding them up!), them giving me some information of the route they have travelled.

It takes considerably less than an hour to get over the unnamed bump then climb up to Maungahuka Hut (past the turn off to Neill Fork Hut at 1330m). I take a welcome break at around 1030 to send a text, top up water, put on sunscreen and leave a message in the log (which I think I put yesterday’s date on – damn!).

After a bit of mucking about it’s 11 before I leave. The day is now clear, the clouds have disappeared from the eastern valleys and over the next few hours from the Wairarapa also. Maungahuka is new and tidy nestled next to its tarn.

On the map there are 5 significant high points between here and Anderson Memorial Hut: 2 then bear east, 3 then drop to bush before AM hut. Over the next 3:20 I tick these off as the heat and light winds take their toll of moisture and energy. No complaining though; the views are stunning all about; the South Island is visible and as Hector drops behind, Holdsworth takes the eastern horizon and more and more of the days progress can be seen laid out behind. The shape of the surrounding hills are less familiar as this is territory in which I have not spent much time, I resolve that this is something to be put right.

Aokaparangi (1354m) is the middle of the 3 high points mentioned above. It is noted for the drop off to Mid-Waiohine Hut (and access to Mt Holdsworth; 1470m) and for a two berth Bivvy (small hut). I had hoped to spot this but didn’t look at the right time. I suspect taking some bearings at known points would be helpful if you were keen to find it in the clag. At 200 vertical metres off the top I decide I won’t visit today.

The climbs are getting tiring now and I have got through a fair amount of water. As you drop off Kahiwiroa (1320m) and into the bush it's in the knowledge that when the track emerges again it will be at Anderson Memorial Hut(1140m). I don’t stop to check the distance on the map so the kilometre and half through the twisted mossy forest is interminable.  Eventually the hut appears through the trees with tussocks behind just as the last mouthful of water disappears.

Normally the degree of pleasure experienced on reaching a hut is related to the end of a long day or respite from atrocious weather. Today the 20 min break at Anderson Memorial Hut is a chance to top up water, stop, cool down and rest for a while. The water is welcome and I drink as much as I comfortably can, and it’s still not quite enough. Anderson Memorial Hut itself has a good feel beyond the need for relief. It’s an endearing 6 berths and a pot belly, cosy but light and clean.

There’s still a good amount of day left so I decide to soldier on to Waitewaewae. Departing at 2.40 I carefully note the climb required as the pace is not quite so sprightly as it was this morning.

50min later, Junction Knob (1375m) marks the point of departure from the Main Range and a turn west towards the great plummet. It's a chance to enjoy the view, take a few photos and try to send texts. Mt Crawford (1462m), just a kilometre to the north is not even tempting in my current desire to get somewhere to swim, eat and sleep. The other tops to the north and east are not familiar but there is a certain quiet satisfaction at how far away Mt Hector and Field Peak look.

There’s a short final drop across to Shoulder Knob (1310m) then a rapid descent to the bushline and down to Waitewaewae, about a vertical kilometre below Junction Knob. The descent is as interminable and punishing on tired legs as it looks on the map. A self-photo shortly below the bush line on first review hardly has the look of a tramper enjoying the excursion. On the second go it still looks like a painful grimace on a cadaver so no more attempts are made.

The bush is dry, spleen worts are blackened and shrivelled and the moss is crisp to the touch, but still the green of the ferns is surprisingly intense after the colours of the tops. The upside is that the mossy, bouldery, rooty track is less slippery than usual. There is a lot of leaf and branch litter on the track demanding constant attention. There seems to be a lot of branches of that particular length that the heel of one boot lifts the end of the branch to catch the toe of the following foot. The result is the foot can go up but not forward. These are often found at the top of a step off.

The trip down passes slowly. At around 750m there are a few more birds around and most of the rest of the way the track passes through the territory of Riflemans that twitter and squeak at the intrusion. As usual though, there are fewer birds then I recall from 20 years ago. It was not until I startle a group of three goats that I realise that the understory is not very dense. They crash away leaving a smell reminiscent of certain types of cheese.

The hill finishes fairly abruptly and it’s a short trip across the Otaki River on the swing bridge and around the spur to Waitewaewae Hut. The hut is packed and more are arriving. I give up any thought of getting a mattress and put my pack next to a bench under the veranda.

The prime swimming hole just in front of the hut is taken so I head a short distance back up the track to a shingle fan that promises to catch the last of the sun. Only boots and socks are spared a dip and it is exceedingly pleasant to feel the sweat and smell wash away. Afterwards the sun drives off a lot of the moisture leaving the gear tolerable for the morning and less offensive. It is also a relief to sit in the sun away from the noisy hut.

Back at the hut a family group have appropriated my bench and seem set for the duration so unless I can find another berth I’m going to have to wait for them to turn in. The MkII 10 cent stove heats dinner and I chat to a few people to pick up some gen on the track out. Most say that it is up and down and hard work. One woman who has accompanied her family took 8 hours and was clearly not looking forward to the return trip. I’m glad I hadn’t tried to torch light my way out.

A friendly chap gives me a spare mattress so I carve out a niche on the floor by the fire and turn in hoping people will settle down before long.  Eventually people stop stumbling about and shining torches and even the family group comes in to settle.

Sunday – Waitewaewae to Otaki Forks

Around 6am, one by one people stagger out to the loo with the inevitable stamping, banging and rustling this entails. Still the hut sleeps and there is no sign of anyone getting up. I’ve pretty much had enough so quietly carry my gear outside, and pack and go before 7am. An OSM suffices for breakfast and there is only one person up when I leave.

The track back is not quite as bad or long as painted. Waitewaewae Hut is at about 300m on the banks of the Otaki River. The track to Otaki Forks from the hut cuts off a long southwards dip in the river. It climbs up beside Arapito Stream to Plateau at 530m. This part is rooty and meanders up through the bush and across creeks. The Plateau section is easy going, although in the wet promises to be exceedingly muddy. The track then tumbles down Saddle Creek. At the top of which, if you’re lucky, is a glimpse of grass land in the distance (south west), if you’re slightly less lucky you also take the time to tape a blister on one heel. This section is not so well marked and the catchment is quite active so there is bit of scrambling around rocks, fallen trees and washouts.

On the way down Saddle Creek the sun cracks through the saddle behind and lights the gully. Eventually (around 220m) the track swings south leaving the creek behind and starts the long sidle along the Waitatapia Stream. The main thing to watch for is a 60m climb around a large and active slip. The track is then of much better quality, often following an old bush railway with sections of sleepers and rails still in place. At one point an old boiler for a log hauler is mouldering into the bush.

By now a decent lunch is front of mind so it's a steady clip and a bit of jogging on the down slopes. Grass lands open up below and eventually the track drops down to cross the Otaki River. Then it’s just the final grass flats. It's dry and although a lot of feet have passed since Friday night some of the prints in the dust were made by the same boots that are supporting my aching feet now.

It’s getting quite warm when the bridge over the Waiotauru River comes into sight marking the end of the morning’s activity at 1010; about 3:20 after leaving the hut.

Someone is sitting in the information shelter by the bridge. I enquire if she’s waiting for a bus and she asks if it was me at the Tararua Peaks the day before. They have just come down from Field and we swap notes about our experiences. I had noted a couple of hut log entries from them in which she was apparently feeling the burn. However the only sentiment apparent now is pride in what they have done. We agree on the luck of having such excellent conditions on the Tops which is way more memorable than sore feet.

Gear Notes

Everything behaved. The new black Diamond head torch was very good. It has a number of features that were used: the 2 diode mode is good for general illumination whilst walking; the dimming function is great for around huts and reading; the lock function is comforting when chucking it in the pack and the battery indicator is a great feature. It was lighter than another one checked in the shop. It takes three AAA batteries.

The camel back needs a clip on the harness. Sitting it under the lid of the pack has the added bonus of one half running out first meaning you have some warning before all the water is gone. However, I need to carry a second flexible bottle as 2L isn’t enough in the heat (a second bottle can function as the reserve tank).

The MkII stove may have used a little more fuel than expected. I think it sits too high on the stand, however it heated 500ml in reasonable time.

Southern Crossing

Not Another Southern Crossing

***TBC***
Andrew and Mike

It’s hard to think of a new angle on a trip across the Southern Crossing. It’s a classic Tararua tramp, but so well traversed by so many feet that all sorts of invention is applied to make a more interesting story. This ranges from the traditional one day and moonlight versions, through to weird stunts involving anything from boats to nudity.

This trip is prosaic; for me, a return to an old acquaintance who maybe this time will bestow a perfect day and stunning views, and a first time introduction for Mike. As for Josh, I’m afraid it’s a weekend with a cold and regrets over an opportunity missed.

In the week leading up to the trip, the weather started playing chicken. Perfect clear days piled on top of each other in a sequence that surely couldn’t last up to and through the weekend. The laws of Wellington’s average weather meant a run of 10 good days was as likely as … well, you get the picture.

The usual sort of transport planning, taking advantage of good natured partners and sorting out group gear occurs in the last few days prior. However, the run up is blighted by uncertainty due to fitness. The first hypochondriac out of the blocks is me. A festive bout of gammy foot has rendered me grumpy and couch bound since Christmas Eve. The foot is still in recovery mode and inflicts occasional traumatic flash backs; it is clearly the height of poor judgement to force it into a tramping boot and flog it up and down mountains for a weekend.

Josh comes up with a less debilitating and more transient condition and succumbs to man flu a couple days prior to take off. Not to be outdone, I throw myself over the back of a car whilst biking to work on Thursday. Despite various bruises, a road test of my helmet, and bits of skin and pride left on the Petone Esplanade I protest that the show must go on. I can still carry a walking pole in my left hand if needed and if my foot plays up I'll wear one jandal.

To add a little more spice we decide that we will road test my new ten cent stove. Made from a couple of Sprite cans it is a creative marvel and promises to be possibly effective and certainly entertaining. I decry Mike for cowardice and lack of faith when he suggests carrying a spare butane stove. The only admission of potential for prototype failure will be a couple of spare OSMs; the breakfast, lunch and dinner of champions.

Friday

The show starts on Friday; arriving at work with a tramping pack ready to beat a hasty and early exit. I take the opportunity to show slightly bemused colleagues the marvels of a gerry-built alcohol stove. The unspoken consensus is clear: nerd.

We leave Wellington with its weird and wonderful seven’s crowd behind, and head up the coast in solid traffic. An exchange of texts determines that Josh has grumpy man flu and is in no fit state to withstand the inevitable hoots of derision should we pop in on the way through. Instead we pick up dinner from the aptly named Heaven’s Pizzas in Waikanae, some of which lasts as long as the Otaki Forks car park.

A helicopter hunting trip is returning to the road end with at least 4 dead deer and the same number of not dead hunters. This is probably regarded as a highly successful ratio in hunting circles.

Our support crew and someone else's helicopter

It’s just after 7pm as we cross the bridge and head for Judd Ridge in bright afternoon sun. As the track zigzags up the first face we catch increasing glimpses up into the Otaki River catchment with the main range behind, from below the sound of the river in the gorge drifts up. The track is very well formed and easy going, so we chat about anything from escape velocity to investment funds.

The sun sets and we pause to capture the burnt orange sky around the silhouette of Kapakapanui. There’s no wind and few clouds. Torches are out for the last few hundred meters to Field Hut, arriving just before 9.30; about 2 hr 15 after setting out.

Kapakapanui is the lump on the right

Field is a great old classic hut. It has a warm feel and plenty of space but tonight there are only 6 staying, including a Pom and Aussie who we passed on the way up. We chat on the verandah watching the stars brighten and enjoying the warm, windless evening. Given the forecast and the long stint of good weather we are a bit surprised (and a little relieved) by the low turnout. All lights are out and the final sleeping bags rustle by 11.

A cloudy morning at Field Hut

The night is dead quiet and even the snorers are somewhat subdued. In the morning there are a few desultory trills from a bird by way of a dawn chorus and the hut slumbers until after 7.

Saturday

The morning brings the first test for the ten cent stove. It has no trouble heating water for coffee for two which we enjoy on the verandah as a procession of runners comes through. The Tararua Mountain Race is about a month away, so we see 6 athletes making the most of the weather to get some good training in.

They all pause for a brief chat; one turns out to be a walker (built like a Kenyan ultra runner) who is giving the runners a good walk for their money and another’s pack informs the world “Activity Paused” in tones that you could imagine could become really irritating.

A German woman also passes through, who had left Palmerston North at 4am and is also heading to Alpha. We later learn her name is Yana but more about her soon.

Eventually we tidy the hut and head on and up a little after 9. There’s a high overcast and it is still. After Table Top (1047m), the view east into Penn Creek opens up and we note a fair amount of cloud forming around the main range.

As we head from Dennan to Bridge Peak (1421m) there is a steady procession of returning runners (one with telling mud stains up his front) and a couple of parties that had stayed at Kime. One man has a massive pack that looks like a luggage trolley crashed into his back. He and young son are returning instead of going across the tops due to son’s sore foot (who incidentally had skipped impatiently ahead down the track; hmm). Finally, the other couple from last night are returning saying they didn’t bother climbing from Kime to Hector due to the cloud. The wind is starting to rise to confirm their story.

There’s no rush so we take a few breathers and I help Mike eat all his scroggin for the weekend. The warm, moist norwester piles across Judd Ridge and up towards the main range; clouds condense in the updrafts and start to congregate around the peaks.

Breasting Hut Mound (1440m) reveals the build of the new Kime Hut in full swing. There are tonnes of gear strewn around the bowl (including a small digger) and a couple of blokes are kanger-hammering pile holes. They have completely taken over the hut and even have a fridge.

Soon to be non-existent Kime hut and building site

Kime hut itself is widely regarded as a miserably cold, damp fridge, but some heartfelt doggerel thumb tacked to the wall attest that it will be missed. The toilets however would not be missed by any but the several species of green slime that have taken up residence.

Yana has managed a car key swap with some acquaintances, who tell us that it’s windy and pretty tough going from Hector. We pause for a bite and chat in the lee of Kime Hut then take a nosey around the building site. The framing is prefabricated but it looks like they are building the floor from the piles up. Although it is Saturday the workers are hard at it and we leave them alone.

The cloud closes and the wind rises as we climb up Field (1483m) then Hector (1529m). We will most definitely not being gazing around distant horizons. We agree that the wind is ‘fairly windy’ to ‘quite windy’ on the modified Wang-Beaufort scale (‘very windy’ by most other assessments).


We are pleased to see the memorial on Mt Hector loom through the cloud as this is the high point of our trip and the highest Mike has been in the Tararuas. Although we can’t see much, the photo is on Facebook and people are already commenting before we turn our faces south down the ridge to the Beehives. It is kind of weird to be in a place where the weather has killed the unwary before, and is not behaving as predicted, whilst watching mundane comments pop up on the phone.

The memorial on Hector, not the best conditions

Although quite windy, it’s not cold or raining so we imagine worse conditions and do a bit of navigation practice whilst rehearsing the order of the peaks we pass so as to better recognise them in the other direction.

In the lee of the ridge we come across a single walker. Getting closer I recognise the face and ask him if he did the same route in June last year. Much to his credit he asks if I travelled the route with him “in the blizzard.” I’m absolutely tickled to see him again. It was a tough crossing and it had been good to have another person in view. This time I find out that his name is Reuben.

After saying our goodbyes I point out to Mike the totally unprompted use of the ‘B’ word, and from someone who is clearly a hard bitten veteran of the worst these Mountains can inflict upon a soul. Today however the track is dry, someone has trimmed the tussocks and the going is very easy despite the wind and lack of view.

We take a moment at Atkinson (1472m) to look at the start of False Spur and note that track marking would make it hard to miss the right turn along the Dress Circle.

The cloud starts breaking and the first we see is the valley west of False Spur. It positively glows in the sun and more and more comes into view as we dip then climb to Aston (1376m). Soon after there is more blue than grey and we are looking over a sunny Wairarapa and north past False Spur to Neill Ridge, Concertina Knob (we think), and Maungahuka disappearing into the clag that is still piling over the tops from the west.

Same day, different weather.  False spur in the background

A couple then a single pass in the opposite direction on one day missions to Otaki Forks while we amble along to Alpha (1361m) knowing we have plenty of time and enjoying what was supposed to have been the conditions for the whole trip.

We arrive at the hut at 3.30 after a fairly leisurely 6 and half hours. It is the first time I can remember being here with dry boots. Yana arrives an hour or so later, then the Aussie and Pom an hour and a half after that. We are quite happy as it’s a good chatty bunch.

Alpha hut and cell phone coverage

The stove works again heating water for dinner for two with no troubles. As we eat we take the opportunity to interrogate Yana. Her husband doesn’t tramp, so she goes on her own and she relates storeys of many tramps on Taranaki, Volcanic Plateau, Ruahines and Kahurangi. It is an impressive list accumulated in 8 years with time off for a daughter. She’s good company and clearly has no problems setting off on fairly ambitious trips on her own. She tells us on one trip she had some time to spare, so lived in the Kahurangi Park for as long as she could find food left in the huts, occasionally reaching a road end with a phone to tell her contact not to worry.

Just on twilight there’s a stamp on the verandah and a man emerges from the gloom. He has just come across the tops and describes the wind as forcing him to crab along. Tomorrow he says is going to be much worse according to the forecast (which has clearly deteriorated). Outside the wind is indeed rising and we have little difficulty believing that it is pretty harsh above the bush line.

Alpha is very comfortable; dry, warm and clean. The toilet however is disgusting. We argue whether it is worse than Kime and agree that although more brown than green, the fact that the brown is solid, caked on fly dirt gives it the edge. When one finally succumbs to the need to attend the facility, the blowflies rouse themselves to batter their way around the small cubicle until you have the good sense to turn the torch off.

Lights are off by 9.30 and we drift off to the sound of the wind which later on combines with the solid effort put in by the snorers.

Sunday

The hut starts stirring at 6. It is still somewhat windy out and we can imagine the sun rising over the Wairarapa and setting orange fire amongst the beech trees; we don't go out for a look.

The solo tramper is off first and we follow him at 7.15 after a quick sweep of the hut. We catch him before Hell’s Gate and are slightly nonplussed by the hymn music emanating from his pack. He doesn’t refer to it and we are too polite to enquire whether this is some sort of miracle or has a more prosaic explanation.

In conversation he expands on his description of the conditions on the tops declaring that ‘no man would survive today’.  Fairly melodramatic but yesterday clearly made a lasting impression on him.

Having spent the last few weeks regaling Mike with descriptions of Marchant Ridge as being up hill in both directions; an interminable slog through mud and roots, and a soul destroying waterless drag, it was beholden on me to be as wrong as possible.

The wind has dropped to a refreshing breeze and there are enough windows in the bush to look back up at the clouds behind Alpha showing the tell tale signs of high winds, trace the emerging line of Quoin Ridge, point out Mt Reeves, Bull Mound Track disappearing down to Cone Hut, the far off Haurangis, and anything else that catches the eye. On this side of the range the day is very hot and gives the opportunity to view the landforms and fix them in the mind for future reference.

A hot day on the Marchant ridge; the Hutt valley somewhere behind

In this way we natter our way along the ridge and time passes very pleasantly. The final drop down to Kaitoke is scorching hot and dry and we see the first new people of the day just before reaching the road end at 1.40, around 6 and a half hours after setting out. The car left for us hasn’t been set fire to, which is nice, and we relocate to meet our respective partner and family at the Kaitoke water works to contemplate how nice and cool the water would be if we could be bothered to go swimming.

A quick check of the body shows that the shoulder is fine and although the foot is commenting quietly about what it has been doing, the voltarin seems to be keeping it in line. Sun strike is the worst that can be claimed out of the trip.

Post Script - some gear and track notes for future reference

We took it fairly easy and generally trimmed a little time off the DoC estimates, although travelling with two in pretty good conditions makes it easier. The track to Kime is very well formed, across the Southern it is pretty well worn although a little eroded in places, and muddy and slippery when wet in others. Cutting the tussock back has made a huge difference from Hector to Aston. Alpha to Omega is well formed and Marchant appears to have a lot of the dead fall cleared (bar a couple of clambers over big trunks). Marchant is good travelling in the dry but the same track can be a different proposition in winter.

The Penny stove did the job. It did need a second pre-burn to get going when started and as the jets take over the flames tend to dip quite a bit which suggests it could be very hard to start in any breeze. Need to test this. It coped for two people fine preparing hot drinks and dehy food. Anything more will likely slow things down a bit.

The Zamberlan boots that both Mike and I have ended up with are good and comfy. They have needed little or no wearing-in but provide a little less ankle support than previous (heavier) foot wear. So far the verdict is: very good performance and reasonably priced.

My new Swazi micro fibre T-shirt is good in normal conditions but hot in the sun and would benefit from something to protect the neck from the sun. The micro fibre bush shirt performed fine on the tops while Mike was wearing his rain jacket against the wind.

The Macpac 35l pack is just the right size and sits comfortably while walking. The back gets very hot though transferring heat directly into the camelback; there’s nothing like drinking something the temperature of urine! (Just stick it under the pack lid and it keeps cool). The opening at the top of the pack is annoyingly narrow when packing and, as recorded previously, it needs a raincoat to be water proof.

For the first time I carried walking poles which were never used but strapped onto the pack fine.