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.
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| Our support crew and someone else's helicopter |
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.
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| 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.
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| A cloudy morning at Field Hut |
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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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