Für Angela - Pureora and Old Coach Road

For a significant birthday we decided to treat Angela to a MTB trip through the Pureora Timber Trail. I'd thoroughly enjoyed a south-north trip earlier in the year and reckoned it would be just the thing for her. However, it took a while to replace my nicked bike and line up diaries so there was a bit of a delay before we finally set a date.

The plan is to drive up and do half the Timber Trail on a Friday, stay the night at Blackfern Lodge and complete the trail on Saturday before heading south to pick up one of a number of possible rides on the Sunday.

Who:   Angela, Mike, Self and Sally (support crew)
What:  Long weekend MTB trip
Where: Pureora Timber Trail and Old Coach Road
When:  30 Sept - 2 Oct 2016

Angela arrives at home late on a Thursday night to crash over with the intention of an early getaway. With the bikes loaded in the evening, we are away so early that the cafes along SH 1 are not open until we are north of Bulls. The Sugar Plum Cafe is about to put it's sign out when we pull in: it's a first visit for all of us and our breakfasts and coffees don't disappoint. The art work on the walls provides conversation fodder,varying from really quite good studies of iconic scenery to somewhat deranged little pieces.

Road trip iced coffee

Nothing like it!

For a change there is no need to stop in Taihape, so we continue to Taumaranui for fuel and final supplies, then follow SH 4 north. 21 km later is the right turn into tiger country along the Ongarue-Waimiha Road.  This is close to the southern end of the Timber Trail but it's a long and windy way north to SH 30, then east to Bennydale, and eventually the start of the trail at Pureora (not much there apart from the DoC Centre). We can't see it, but we are about 20km northwest of Lake Taupo.

The area is typical central North Island back-country volcanic plateau farm land: low, hilly and with a scarce few pockets of bush. As we near Pureora we can finally see the dusky green of the forest rising gently up the symmetrical flanks of the volcano. The top is at 1165m, but given that the surrounding volcanic plateau is 5-600m, it doesn't exactly tower so much as ease above the landscape.

A geologist would be able to tell you that Pureora is an andesite volcano which oozes lava rather than it's neighbour 20km away which has magma of a rhylotic nature (with high viscosity and gas content) and so an uncouth tendency towards sudden, loud and spectacular explosions. It has been responsible for wiping out forests and covering vast areas in metres of ash. Fortunately for road cyclists it also had the side effect of leaving a massive crater that fills up with water and can be cycled around, but that's another story.

There's a DoC campsite and toilets at the road end where we disgorge the contents of the car on to the ground and set about getting bikes track worthy.  For Angela this also involves a quick tube change. It's definitely not sunny and the cloud doesn't bode well for getting good views. But although it has been quite wet in recent days, the rain is holding off for now.

Our aim of being underway not too long after midday proves to be a pretty good estimate as we set off around 1pm. It is fairly late in the day to start so we are not expecting to see anyone on the trail, although there are some fresh bike foot prints on the track.

The transition into the bush is abrupt and stunning. A carving welcomes us to the trail and we are immediately in wonderful cathedral-like podacarp forest. Huge trunks reach straight upwards surrounded by the verdant tangle of under-story competition, that is only possible with a rigorous pest control programme.

The trail is smooth, flowing and flat but with enough bends and muddy patches to ease Angela back into MTB riding - I forget that she is foremost a road cyclist but figure that with her fitness, determination and good dose of common sense this trail will be challenging but not daunting.

Almost!

As we ride we keep a hopeful ear out for kokako but sadly don't identify any during the trip. There are plenty of tui and other birds to be heard though.

The trail starts to gently climb and we pop out of forest and into areas that have been logged. The contrast is stark - the wreckage will take generations to recover assuming they don't plant more bloody pines.

Just shy of 800m there is a wee shelter then we are back into the bush. The trail is now a little rougher in places but still gently pitched as it climbs past 900m and skirts around the cone.

First shelter

There are very few breaks in the canopy to give glimpses of the surrounding terrain so the cloud doesn't bother us. At a couple of spots handwritten signs indicate views of Taupo (we think we could see it) and cell phone coverage, but we are more intent on enjoying the bush and the track which, once the climb is done with, is generally pretty flat with just a few steepish sections.

A feature of the trail are the bridges that span high above bushy gorges. They are full-on suspension bridges with solid wood decking - easily rideable and giving views down to rivers far below.  Although we are too high to have any chance of seeing the rare whio (blue duck) that survives amidst the rapids.








We haven't been stopping much so pause for a breather and a bite at one of the occasional shelters.  We also take a look at a totara stump that a couple of wood splitters lived in for a bit after the third of their number turned up with a bride and they got relegated to the stump.

Not so home-sweet-home

I have precise instructions about where to leave the track for the route to Blackfern Lodge (and know that it is marked), but the 7 km proves to be a little bit more of a proposition at the end of the day then expected. The signs are hand-painted, old and ... rustic; they point us via tracks and gravel roads to a private road through pine forest and a wee ridge to climb over. The pine block is very mature so the logging track is soft with pine needles, occasional rotten branches, and an inclination towards sogginess.

The climb is a bit of a pinch with crossbike gearing but doable, and the down hill is treacherous enough to demand some respect. At the bottom there is a hand-written note for us on a signpost directing us to the Lodge (which is spread across two sites) and saying that Sally is already in situ.

We arrive at 6pm, after we have been on the go for 5 hours. After a bit of TLC for the bikes (it pays to get that pumice grit out of the moving bits) we wander 5 minutes up a track to the Kawauariki Falls which, with the river up, are quite impressive. The Lodge is associated with conservation efforts for whio but we are not lucky enough to see one on the river.

Blackfern lodge

Kawauariki falls

The Lodge office and backpackers ('The Forge') is further back down the road: we are staying at the Lodge which has a row of on-suite rooms and a communal kitchen/dining/lounge/pool room. It is all slightly bohemian and showing signs of age, but perfectly comfortable. A selection of Archie and war comics beside the bed complete the feeling that we are baching it.

The booking includes dinner which is basic but generous: beef hot pot, potatoes gratin and some sort of old fashioned baked sconey thing for dessert. Angela and I play some very indifferent pool before we all turn in for the night. The valley is peaceful with the sound of the falls and river drifting through the units.

At 3am I wake to a car outside.  It's Mike who left Wellington after work. Unfortunately he didn't get Sally's text message telling him how to find the place, so arrived after midnight at the Lodge office down the road. After stumbling around in the dark, and just about getting the car stuck on a farm track, he finds a verandah, wraps up in his ski jacket and dosses down til morning.

It isn't warm but he manages to get to sleep - so much so in fact that his reverberating snores wake the owners of the Lodge upon whose porch he is nestled. The husband is a bit grumpy, no-doubt wondering why one of the legion of our cities' homeless has left their underpass to invade his rural retreat. We can only imagine the scene with Mike, who is not at his best before his first three morning coffees: cold, confused at being woken from his slumbers, and trying to make sense of the directions some half dressed grumbler is trying to impart.

Over breakfast Mike's usual good nature returns and he doesn't seem to mind the hilarity with which we greet his story. We also manage the serious business of designing the most efficient way of ferrying two cars, three bikes/riders and one driver around the landscape.  Anglea and I need to get back to the trail at the point we left it and Mike is joining us - but that leaves one driver and two cars.

It's not a long ride today so we load up leisurely and head off around 9am. One car is dropped at the intersection and we head up  the road to the Piropiro Campsite, near the middle of the trail. I take the chance to re-acquaint myself with the shelter I dosed in last time through. From the campsite we can see that someone is building what looks like a big lodge near the trail - this may be why Blackfern Lodge is for sale.

It's pretty easy to follow the gravel roads back to the point we departed the trail yesterday and, after a bit of bike farfing we are off around 11.

Car ferrying

Back in the bush

The landscape around Piropiro has been logged and the trail ducks on and off logging roads before we escape back into the bush to climb to the Maramatahi Bridge and up the other side to our high-point for the day.

It rains on and off so the track gets quite interesting in places - but Angela takes it in her stride: her fitness leaving Mike behind on the uphills, whereas Mike's relative disregard for safety has him hurtling ahead on the down hills.

The track levels after the climb and undulates along for a good while before starting the long, glorious downhill. The nature of the trail changes again with the old tram route, meaning it is mostly gentle gradients and sweeping corners on a solid bench: weaving around contours and swinging through narrow cuttings that are tunnel-like - dim and lined with ferns. It really is the most lovely riding and the rain doesn't matter a bit.







We catch up with a Russian family with two quite young (10ish?) children. It must be hard work for the youngsters in the mud and we suspect they will be out quite late but they are gamely struggling on.

Another bridge

Mike sweats up a hill

Lunch break - out of the rain

Pretty clean so far

Which is not so bad

Mike stops for the view

The railway and logging flotsam en-route provide distraction for the historically minded: bits of train, a turn-table, and story boards. Most engaging is the delicate wee spiral involving bridge, tunnel and a rising (or falling) loop in the track. It's been restored well considering that a stream was diverted through the tunnel for a while.

Navigating the spiral

We cruise on down the track, past bluffs, over bridges and streams and eventually out to the Mangakahu Valley. This marks the last few kilometers of trail on the type of track where the crossbike twitches like a greyhound eager to be off the leash.

A suitable amount of dirt and grit

At the trail head a van is waiting for the Russian family (they'll be a good few hours yet) but no sign of our support crew so we cruise down the road to find her in Ongarue -  which looks exactly as I saw it last time: wet. Mike and Angela load up and head off with Sally to pick up the other car while I take the Ongarue Back Road - it's a pleasant undulating ride following the railway past tiny communities the odd Marae and eventually into suburban Taumanui - arriving about 5 minutes before the others.

Someone has had the inspired idea of picking up a roll of rubbish bags so all the wet, gritty, muddy gear is quickly wrapped up and we're on our way to the accommodation in Ohakune. Ossie's provides a good size chalet where we set gear to dry in front of the heat pump whilst we head into the Italian restaurant for a surprisingly good dinner.

A decision for the next day is required with three main possibilities for the birthday girl to choose from: the Bridge to Nowhere (with exit down river by jetboat), the 42nd Traverse, or the Old Coach Road. She sensibly plumbs for the Old Coach Road which has less logistical complexity and means we are likely to hit the road home earlier.

In the morning the gear is mostly dry and a bit of a shake renders it somewhat less gritty.  After breakfast Sally drops us back up the road at Horopito and we set off.

The usual chaos before setting off

 The track follows a road then onto the trail.  We are following the route of an old coach road and the old and modern railways. It undulates along with a good surface nice quality and easy going before crossing the main trunk line and passing the site of the old Taonui Viaduct.  Its rusting girders and elegant curve above the stream below is worth a stop - one day perhaps the track will go across it.

Taonui viaduct - still a bit cool out

Without cyclist

The trail drops into the gully, passes below the viaduct, then follows upstream in quite spectacular bush, under the new railway line, then climbs to a terrace for some easier riding. In places the old cobbles make the riding quite bumpy, alternating with mud from all the rain. It is all ridable though and the downhill off the terrace is good fun - although one of our number is caught out by the sudden transition from smooth gravel to mud. Shortly after, we are treated to the sight of the old Hapuawhenua Viaduct curving across the gully with the straight modern viaduct a short distance away.

A party of elderly trampers are straggled along the track and the viaduct and make grumpy noises about using bells, so we assume some MTBer has offended their sensibilities. We cross over and back, then climb around the ridge and detour into the old tunnel, which has been violently truncated by the new rail line smashing through it in a wide cutting.

Hapuawhenua Viaduct

A shining cuckoo is whistling somewhere in the bush as we head to the last down hill along the edge of farmland then along backroads to Ohakune.  Sally has finished another book over another coffee in another cafe and is ready to load up and head for home. Via Brown Sugar cafe in Taihape of course.

Post Script

There's a fair amount of gear cleaning to do after the trip. But everything held up well.

The Timber Trail is a great fun ride - doable in a day if you have a mind to or a good weekend option from Wellington as two half days. A good option would be to camp at Piropiro, if you don't mind canvas, and there are various companies that offer shuttles to reunite you with your car (best option would be to leave the car at Ongarue so you can hit the road as soon as you get off the trail).

Old Coach Road is a sweet little ride, but be prepared to share with walkers.  A good option if you have a couple of hours spare - take a bit more time and do it as a there and back if you have transport challenges.

All the bikes behaved well. I was quite happy with the Norco crossbike on both trails despite the narrow tyres making the muddy bits interesting, the gearing making the steeper hills harder work, and feeling the lack of suspension.  Mike and Angela's 26' hard tail MTBs were also fine for the job.

Navigating the Western Hutt ridges

If you are looking for a bit of a navigational challenge there is nothing quite like flat topped ridges below the bush line. And in the Wellington region it would be hard to find anywhere that is as close to this description as the ridges around Maymorn in the Western Hutt catchment.

This is another trip I'd been keeping up the sleeve for when I was feeling a little more confident about finding may way about with map and compass. The area in question is loosely confined by the Akatarawa Road, the Renata Ridge up to the Southern Crossing and the Hutt River. The plan is to head up the ridge running northwest from Pakuratahi forks to about point 536, head north past 572 then east along Maymorn Ridge for a bit of a look, retrace steps and then head northish to intersect the track Renata Ridge Track near Maymorn Junction and on to Renata Hut for the night. The following day, retrace the route without the side trip to Maymorn.

Nice theory - now let's see what happened.

What:   Navigation trip
Why:    Push the boundaries a little
Where: Western Hutt - Maymorn Ridge area
When:  29 October 2016
Who:    Solo
Map:    Map

The forecast is not great again so an intended trip to the tops around Mitre is postponed in favour of a trip that doesn't involve river crossings or open tops.

The Pakuratahi Forks carpark is empty at 6.45am, and damp. I figure there is likely to be a bit of a route up such an obvious ridge so, after crossing the swing bridge, keep a weather eye out as I potter along the loop track. A couple of possibilities present themselves but in the end I walk to the Flume Bridge to get a good look at the end of the ridge, then back track 100m or so to where the track levels out on an old terrace. Sure enough, a ground trail runs to the edge of the ridge, and a bouldery route leads up. After a bit it's clear I'm on a reasonably well used trail with some useful spray markers.

The ground trail becomes clearer once the track rises above the humus covered lower slopes into the mossy forest above. It's raining and the landscape is sodden but it's not windy, so once the initial climb is out of the way things proceed in a satisfactory manner, with little time spent casting about. There's a bit of wind fall to contend with but not too bad.

A bit of wind fall

An old vehicle track marked from 618m is quite overgrown initially but clears to give good travel. However, working out where to leave it proves to be not so easy, as there are a few well overgrown options. The first possibility starts well but then drops too far and peters out, so a quick backtrack and on to the next one. This one takes a little longer before turning out to be wrong, but I can't be bothered retracing, so just head through a stream and up the other side knowing I'll hit the ridge somewhere around 536m.

I emerge onto another overgrown vehicle track and follow it as long as it is going my way, then follow loose ground trails to the start (end) of Maymorn Ridge.

There's a reasonable trail leading up the ridge, with just a few spots where a bit of casting about and compass/map work is needed.  Once on Pukeruru it get's a little more tricky: travel south for about 500 metres (always further than you think) then east into a saddle (don't miss it) and up the other side. When you have an idea where you're going there are a few trails to follow that seem to be going in about the right direction.

Things progress fine to the scrub southeast of 770m. The cloud is high so the shape of the ridge can be seen which is an enormous help.  The going now promises to be tough. Trails come and go in the thick scrub. Periodically clearings run across the ridge so you follow them to find the next path of least resistance.  At one of these I come across some pink tape which mark a cleared track and progress speeds up markedly.

The view south off Maymorn Ridge - not so impressive today

I follow another clearing north to find, to my surprise, a picnic table. The spot has a panorama from Kapakapanui around to the shoulder of Aston on the Southern crossing disappearing into the murk. Somewhere directly ahead is Renata hut, my destination for the night.

North to Kapakapanui on left, Renata ridge ahead,
route up to Southern Crossing on right

Maymorn Trig

The pink taped route is nowhere to be found so I follow the compass, struggling through thick scrub and low forest, heading on and up until, suddenly; a trig.  Out-competed by the regenerating forest around it, it blends into the landscape into which it is slowly rotting.

Beyond, there is a route down to Hutt Forks. But for me at 2.45pm it's time for a bite to eat (not too long as it's pretty cool) before heading back through the scrub.  At least it hasn't been raining for a while.

The return trip is a different proposition. I have a bit of an idea about the landscape, but it's impossible to retrace the exact route. I find the pink tape again but somewhere along the way lose my long serving black Macpac cap. This is the cap that has been on my head through all the adventures this year; ever since I liberated it from the clutches of number one support crew, to fulfill a far nobler calling. I'm a bit put out.


I get a little carried away on the way back, considerably overshooting the high point after 770. I had thought it would be a potentially tricky spot so had marked the shape of a distinctive tree and a patch of bright green moss, but had whistled past them thinking it was too early. I back-track and find them and take a bearing west into the saddle. As with many descents, there's no clear shape to follow. From the map you just don't want to drop too far south, as that side of the saddle is quite steep. From the saddle it is plain sailing up to the next ridge and north to Pukeruru to a clearing I had marked on the way in.

The route seems more obvious on the way back so it's quick going until I figure it is time to start bearing NNE towards 642. I find it a bit tricky here and make a false start on a ridge I can't identify on the map before cutting across to something more promising. This turns out to be a problem area tomorrow also.

Some old vehicle tracks coincide with my direction and make for fast going for a while but they eventually peter out. The undulating top of the ridge is interminable and confounds any directional sense as the light wanes. I put off getting a head torch out in favour of retaining at least some peripheral vision.

The last steepish climb up to the track is what I am waiting for but the sun is well gone by the time the trail starts upwards. It is quite surprising how the trail although old is still more compacted than the surrounding forest floor so even in the dim light your feet tell you you're on track. However, at some point it breaks right and I miss it in the dark so I keep on struggling up over rotten logs and through moss and humus, eventually giving up and cracking out the light.

Inevitably there is hard track under foot again and the gleam of a track marker. It's a bit of a relief to be able to amble along the well cut ridge track on a firm surface. It's not supposed to be far to the hut, and after a bit an old sign informs me it is only 2 minutes away. Soon after the smell of smoke and disinfectant indicates it is close but then fades. It takes a few minutes to percolate through, but eventually I figure I have waltzed past it in the dark.

It's after 9pm and more than 14 hours on the go when I disturb two women who have just turned in for the night. I don't waste time: hang sopping gear to drip, identify where the loo is (a bit of a walk), grab some food, and climb into bed. There's a bit of rain during the night indicating what to expect tomorrow.

Renata is an old corrugated iron hut with an indifferent fire place. It's not as abused as I expected and there's good company - the women have done some interesting trips and are just completing a loop around Judd Ridge, Renata and back to the Forks via Waiotauru (not so pleasant). One of them is aiming to bag 50 huts this year and has only 10 to go. I only semi-envy them their coffee in the morning as I munch on a slice of fruit bread and salami, and listen to belts of rain battering the roof.

Renata Hut

As expected all gear is still wet and cold but there ain't many options. At 7am I leave them to their preparations and, well wrapped up, ease tired muscles back into motion.

Although my route is no longer marked on the map it used to be well traveled and the departure point is still marked on some maps as Maymorn Junction. I expect to see some obvious indication of it but miss it. In the end I just pick a spot and bash around onto something resembling a spur and start down. Eventually I find something I decide to call a trail and follow it. An old marker eventually confirming the choice. It may as well be a completely different ridge - there's is little familiarity from yesterday and there are false trails all over the place. Even following a compass bearings is tricky as you are never sure whether you are dropping off the edge of the ridge or just traversing another undulation.

I find the old trail again, which turns into a vehicle track and everything is good for a while. Then it heads off down hill towards Frances Stream. Backtrack, another bearing, another bash along what is hopefully the right ridge. This continues for a while with no breaks in the canopy apart from tantalising glimpses of nearby slopes which can't quite be made to fit the map.

The 'ridge' turns into a spur which I follow to a stream to get a bearing - it's flowing in an unexpected direction which means it can be one of two possibilities. That means following that slope up will get me to here on the map ... or here. After a series of such decisions I'm pottering along a ridge at the correct altitude but in a slightly unlikely direction when I recognise a clump of epiphytes fallen onto the track. Oh. Turn around. Backtrack. Take other option at last decision point.

This all happens on the ridge somewhere around 632 to 646 and by the time I've sorted myself out again I work out that I have passed Maymorn Ridge and am navigating past 572. This also proves to be infernally tricky. I describe another loop trying to get onto an identifiable feature.

The canopy is thick and high so the only indication of the terrain is what you can see through the surrounding trees - this will be less than 100m so hardly much to go on. There's also no chance of getting high enough up a tree for a view. At one point I find a fresh pink ribbon on a tree. Clearly indicating something but absolutely no other clues as to what. It is completely frustrating to know that just one little clue is all that is needed to make everything snap into a frame of reference and suddenly make sense.

In the end, fed up, I drop into what I believe is the head waters of the Kerekere Stream - it is flowing in the correct direction and I know I can follow it up towards my ridge and that there are a couple of old vehicle tracks that I might intersect. This time everything goes to plan but there's a fair amount of untracked real-estate between.

Finally I hit the ridge to Pakuratahi and lope along the old vehicle track, promising myself a break and bite at a clearing I recall from the way in.

Feeling the strain - clearing a bit short of 618 

It's not all over yet but at least it feels like the home straight. I call home command from 638 as it's approaching 5pm and if I take a wrong spur I could be spending another night out. 

The trail is pretty good going and I recognise features. I'm also watching the map more closely and keep a good idea where I am as I bump over 641 and 642. Here I pause to take a bearing down the ridge and keep a weather eye out, as there are a few old markers about. At a bit over 500m the ridge splits and its a few minutes before I recognise and carefully backtrack. From here on I spend more time looking for spray markers and less time with the compass as I followed these on the way up.

Finally, with protesting knees I'm negotiating the spur steeply down to where it abruptly flattens to spit me blinking out onto the loop track. I wander along the delightfully flat and smooth surface and across the swing bridge; still a bit of daylight left but not a lot of leeway. There is one car left in the park as I leave about 6.45 pm - almost 11 hours on the go, that's quite enough for one weekend.

Pakuratahi Forks at last

Somewhat more cheerful than last selfie

Postscript

Quite an experience. The body took a bit of punishment - numerous scratches and bruises from thrashing about in scrub, skin on left thigh went sort of numb and still not quite back to normal two weeks later, weird skin rash on face from stumbling into God knows what, something like a stress fracture developing in right foot ... i.e. normal sort of stuff.

It was certainly a navigational challenge - I really can't say I nailed it. Best claim is I ended where intended but with a fair amount of wasted effort on the way (especially day two). 

Did I learn anything? I don't think I got much better at not getting lost but I think I got a little bit better at coping with being lost while working out how to get found again. After all, I spent a fair proportion of Sunday not knowing exactly where I was but not being particularly concerned about it. 

Levin to Otaki with dry feet

There is nothing quite like the pleasure of perusing a map, identifying unexplored corners and promising trips to be stored away for future reference. In my case, added to a list on my cell phone to be ticked off over time.

One such potential adventure was the result of idle speculation about a chunk of land in the western Tararuas with the most intriguing possibility being to follow the winding ridge lines from behind Levin to Otaki forks without dropping into any stream catchments in between.

It was somewhat beyond my meager navigational capabilities at the time but with a few trips under the belt and having nibbled at the edges of the route a few weeks back (link) it felt like it was worth a crack.

What:    Below bushline navigation trip along winding ridge lines

Where:  Poads Road Levin to Otaki Forks

Why:     Challenging navigation exercise under a bit of time pressure
Who:     Solo

When:   Friday evening 14 October 2016 to Sunday 16th

Map:      Link

To get a good head start I negotiate a drop off on Friday after work, with the intention of getting to Waiopehu hut for the night.

Tramp

A few chickens are moping about the car park as my ever patient support crew drops me off under lowering skies.

Rain is threatening and it's a bit cold, so I'm well dressed as I head out a little after 5.20pm. My route coincides with Te Araroa: crossing farmland to climb into the range via the Waiopehu Track.

The sun occasionally manages to slant in under the cloud and the going is pretty good, albeit on a fairly sodden track.  About 7.45 I'm at the clearing just past the old hut site and it's getting dark.

The bush is quite wet so I'm pretty soggy arriving at the hut in the dark with the lights of Levin hidden in the clouds. It's 8pm and has just passed the point where a head torch is necessary.

Mercifully the hut is empty, providing the opportunity to run through a few pieces of music I need to know my way around. I've been roped into an impromptu family choir for an aunt's birthday as the token representative of the less musically endowed corner of the gene pool. Okay, a bit weird but there's nobody to hear and the acoustics are good.

Momentary sun on Waiopehu Track

It's a quiet night and I've had a pretty good sleep when it comes to pulling on damp gear next morning. A brief gap in the clouds reveals a dusting of snow along the main range to the east but the cloud soon closes again.

Morning view from Waiopehu Hut

Waiopehu Hut

Around 7.15am it's a short climb from the hut to the top of the hill where I look for hints of a ground trail leading to Oriwa Ridge. This ridge is a major feature running south and west from Waiopehu and seems to be reasonably well traveled, although not officially tracked.  

There's a bit of a trace to follow down through the tussock off Waiopehu into the bush and sporadic tape markers. The trail itself is easy to lose amidst the ubiquitous game trails, and the ridge is fairly broad, so it is easy to wander. However, following a compass bearing sees me pottering along and eventually into the clearing below Oriwa around 8.45am.

There's snow in the air and I'm pretty wet. The clearing boasts a small roof, collecting water into a barrel, and people have stashed bivvy materials in the surrounding bush.  I make the mistake of trying to follow the clearing, which pretty quickly becomes a scrubby bog. Back under the shelter of the trees the going is much easier.

Water catchment - and a wee bit of snow

Oriwa marks where my route departs from the main ridge. I can't see any clues as to a route and there are a couple of possible spurs. I select one, take a bearing, and head down.  The saddle to the west of Oriwa is pretty broad so it's just a question of finding the path of least resistance. 

In the saddle there is a small stream then a bush bash up the hill to the ridge above 918m. I don't find any evidence of a track in the saddle, but towards the top a bit of a trail develops. On the ridge there is something to follow northwest, and even an occasional old marker.

The ridge system here is somewhat convoluted with some boggy patches to negotiate. Under the canopy and in the cloud it is easy to drift off line, so it's better to trust the compass then my sense of direction. In the end it's pretty straight forward getting on to the ridge to 955m and the ground trail is stronger, suggesting that a few people come through here on the way to Panatawaewae to the north.

Near the top of 955m there is apparently an old crashed aircraft. I find the location and cast about in the bush but don't find it - I haven't paid particular attention to the description of the site and although there was a prominent marker on a tree I didn't want to waste any more time. I take a bearing and find markers taking me in the direction of Waitewaewae.

It's quicker than expected through this section, given that there had been more traffic through, so I truck on to Waitewaewae.  Which is where things go a little astray.  In retrospect I was over-relying on the markers - I noted one that indicated a direction of travel that corresponded with my compass bearing and confirmation bias took over. Unfortunately I hadn't traveled quite far enough, so the spur I started down was heading in the right direction, and at a similar steepness to the real route, but soon dropped into a stream gully through steep, rotting bush. A gap in the canopy revealed a ridge to the north where I should have been. By now the quickest way out was to bash through a couple of stream gullies and up the steep side of the ridge. 

It's tough going and by the time I'm back on route well over an hour has been wasted in some fairly challenging terrain. A bit of a sit down and a bite is in order. Still, at least the weather has eased up - cold but not raining. I'm a bit more careful about navigating down the rest of the ridge - at one point a spur heads north and down and there are indications that a bit of traffic goes that way - possibly an exit via the old mill site on the Waikawa Stream.

Following the compass I don't have any problems getting on to the ridge running south from 730m. At one point there is suddenly an old but well formed 4WD track which I follow briefly, before it dives right and down, while I follow my compass south.

It's pretty good going now and my route suddenly comes across the marked track to Mick. The pace increases but evidently my attention declines as I meet some markers heading in an unexpected direction. After a deep breath and a sit down I realise that I've almost done a 180 - probably around a bit of a knob (which is precisely what I am feeling like). A bit of a talking-to and I continue in the correct direction with a little more care.

This is now territory I have traversed in the opposite direction but I have no illusions about the chances of drifting off route. Soon enough I pop out into the clearing below Tangata Maunga. The late afternoon sun is streaming across the ridge. It's cold but the open horizon and view out to sea is refreshing after a day under canopy and cloud. I'm completely out of water so top up at the tarn (it's been so wet recently I figure it must be pretty clean). 

The track through the scrub is reasonably easy to follow up to the small clearing with the trig.  From now on I'm on the look out for a spot to pitch the tent that is not too: exposed, wet, rooty, steep ... It's a very small tent so you'd think it would be easy. In the end I find a man-made clearing with a view and a only slightly sloping clump of grass, around 7.15pm.

Transferring self and dry gear into the small bush cocoon is challenging at the best of times and it is far easier to do it without rain. It's still light but I've been on the go for 12 hours now so I stash wet gear outside, crawl into my pit, pull on dry clothes and start chewing on something for dinner while I wait for my feet to thaw out. Progress for the day was not too bad despite getting ... mislaid.  I'm looking forward to a more relaxed day tomorrow.

Inside the Macpac bush cocoon

Last of the light

It's a quiet night, I get a bit of condensation dampness on the outside of my bag and discover my site is a little more sloped then I thought, but it's all good.

Next morning there is a little bit of cloud about but the sun is breaking through over the main range giving a cheerful prospect to the day. I'm looking forward to a wander down ridge with little time pressure. There's even cell phone reception so I call in my intentions, before heading out around 8.15am.

Packed and ready to go

There is some very good marking of the route on parts of the ridge but this is a two-edged sword. At one point the markers assertively head off down a spur which I gradually realise is not the main ridge. There are a few points where compass and map are required and it's often not immediately apparent how to stay on the main ridge.

At one point, within the space of a few minutes, I frighten first a family of black piglets that explode squealing off the ridge edge, then a family of white/grey piglets that follow suit. At this point I'm always a bit nervous about running into a cantankerous mother pig.

A little below 400m and at 12 noon, the trail breaks out on to grass land and the view across to the slip on the Otaki Forks access road. Based on the map I should be able to follow grassland down to my right, to a couple of terraces above the river separated by a spur.

View to the slip with the forks road running across it

Map and reality diverge somewhat: there's plenty of scrub, steep banks, streams and bushlawyer. After two trips I still haven't found the best route through the bottom section of this ridge. It takes a bit over 20 minutes to drop down to the grassy flat, then a nasty struggle through horrible scrub around the spur that separates the terraces. A steep erosion gully that plummets into the river forces a scramble up and away on rotten ground through disintegrating vegetation. Fortunately this puts me onto a lovely benched track somewhat above the level of the terrace - tip for anyone looking to travel through.

The trail joins the two terraces and part way along I note some pink tape and a trail heading up - this may be the best route up the ridge (certainly more promising then what I've just been through).  The second terrace has a bit of swamp on it, so I head to the edge above the river and follow it around to the scarp above the Waitatapia Sstream.

It's odd to be so close to Otaki Forks but seeing it from a completely different angle. And knowing that there's still a bit of tramping to do to get there.

Edge of terrace looking towards Otaki Forks
Judd Ridge on horizon at left

I'm hoping to see some tape to indicate a way off the terrace as the map shows it's all pretty precipitous - no such luck.  There's a gap in the bush edge and some old cut branches at one point before the end of the terrace but the map says it is still on the edge of the scarp so I continue to the end where there seems to be a bit of something that might once have been a trail. It quickly degenerates into a precipitous scramble down through supplejack.

At the bottom the Waitatapia Stream is up but easy going. I've heard there is an option to cross the Otaki River near here but I've not done it before and there's been a bit of rain. I turn left and wade up-stream 300m to where I dropped off the opposite terrace a few weeks back. Some train wheels I hadn't noticed in the grass last time through mark the spot.

"What's that?"  
"It's a bogey man!"

The spur I went up last time -
my advice is: don't

The scramble up through bracken is steep but straight forward and I decide to see if there is an easier way across the terrace than last time. Some tape markers follow east along the top of the scarp which feels like a sensible way to avoid the boggy flats. On the way there's a good view down to the Waitatapia Stream and the spur I grovelled up last time.


A bit later a moldering sign indicates the old route to the bridge. Any semblance of a track quickly disappears into dense scrub so I follow my nose up through bracken (avoiding some healthy bushlawyer) to the Waitewaewae Track.

At this point in the trip there's always a bit of impatience for the end. The adventure has been had and the last stroll across grassy flats to the carpark can't be over quickly enough. This probably explains why I am a little short of forbearance for the couple that are blocking the swing-bridge with their dog while they take leisurely photographs. Eventually I get past and at 2pm number one support team rouses herself from her kindle in the sun to greet the slightly battered and scratched figure shambling into the carpark.

I think this one can be chalked up as a successful trip with a few more lessons learned the hard way - now it's off to River Cottage Cafe in Otaki for a late lunch.

Someones else have been out and about this weekend