Three tramping weekends until Christmas. The forecast is not bad but there's been rain so a planned river trip is postponed in favour of a sortie into the central Tararuas from Holdsworth. The last time I scurried through here was with some school friends - on a trip the details of which are somewhat hazy - this is going to be mostly new territory.
An early and irritating discovery is that my planned route precisely navigates around the junction of four separate maps. Such excess weight.
What: Cruise around some tops and a couple of ridges
Where: Central Tararuas
Why: New territory, some navigation
Who: Solo
When: 2 December 2016
Map: Map
We are the latest in a series of Wellington buildings to be evacuated following the Kaikoura earthquake. The upshot of discovering that the building is not to the standard thought is that I have to leave by 17:00; all the more time to pack and get away.
Still, it's almost 20:00 as I head out under a thumbnail moon from the Holdsworth road end. The track is a highway apart from one section of slip and I arrive at Atiwhakatu hut in about 1 Hr 15. There's a few people socialising before bed and I end up stretching my pause for 20 minutes before heading up the Raingauge track to Jumbo. At 0050 I'm relieved to find the hut empty so no-one is disturbed as I settle in.
The lights of the Wairarapa sprinkle the planes with the southern cross above, a light frost is already dusting the ground.
I've placed my mattress to catch the early sun so wake shortly after 5 to drowse for a bit. There's a door by the bunk so I can take a look outside without leaving the comfort of my bag. The predawn horizon is edged with an apricot haze and it's looking to be a fabulous day.
The dawn light warms the inside of the hut and I can get a good look around. A nice cosey space but room for plenty.
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| Jumbo Hut |
At 06:00 the air isn't cold, there's a little bit of high cloud but the hills are clear. It's half an hour up to the ridge line to Holdsworth and it becomes apparent that today is going to be a great day for spotting ridges, peaks and spurs.
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| Setting out from Jumbo - McGregor above, South King on right |
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| Ridge line from Jumbo to Holdsworth |
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| Baldy on spur to right running up to South King, then the saw teeth of Broken Axe Pinnacles to McGregor and along to Angle knob |
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| An oh so rustic cross roads |
Once past Jumbo more of the range opens up to view and it's all clear - from the distant peaks of the southern crossing up the spine via Mangahuka through to Mt Crawford.
It's a little over half an hour easy going to Angle Knob where I deviate up to the top for a look around. A couple of things are on my mind - one is the stunning scenery but the other is what this place would be like in clag. There was a runner got lost up here a year or two back and ended up bashing down creeks to Mid Waiohine hut with a broken toe. I wonder if he ended up on Angle knob and headed down the spur into Francis Creek rather than the ridge to Jumbo. He was pretty lucky to survive but I could see how it could have happened.
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| Ridge to Jumbo on left, unnamed spur to Francis creek on right, Holdsworth and Isabelle in middle. |
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| From Angle Knob - ridge up to McGregor in foreground - spur down to McGregor biv barely visible in the shade running down to the left - Main Range on the horizon; Mt Crawford on left |
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| From McGregor - Dorset Ridge ahead - Carkeek and Main Range behind |
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| Nor-east across Broken Axe Pinnacles to South King Spur to Baldy to right, the other Kings on the horizon with Mitre behind |
Pottering back there's a nice view of my target spur with McGregor biv an orange dot on the bushline (to the right of a tarn and wee knob on the spur). Shortly after I'm back in the saddle at the sign pointing down the spur.
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| Spur down to McGregor Biv and Waiohine river. Mt Crawford behind |
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| Turn off to McGregor Biv - Angle Knob behind |
There's not much foot trail until the spur forms then it's easy to follow down. The hut is soon hidden but the wee tarn and the slight rise straight after it are unmistakable. There isn't a cairn to speak of on the wee knob but someone has laid some bones pointing to a path down to the right. I follow the bones and soon the hut explodes suddenly and orangely into sight - about 20 minutes down from the saddle.
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| McGregor Biv |
There's a bit of mess around the biv but inside is tidy. There are two mattresses on the bed and space on the floor for two good, or three very good friends. The place is cheerful in the bright morning sun. Across the valley Dorset hut is obvious just on the bushline.
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| McGregor Biv |
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| View up valley from outside Biv Dorset Ridge on left - Girdlestone on horizon |
Returning to the spur the route quickly descends into the bush. There's a little bit of casting around but it turns out that someone has been through with bits of tape and, relatively recently; Venetian markers. They come and go a bit and there are quite a few spots where it is hard to find the next one. working off the map I'm keeping an eye out for; first a large cryptic tarn (which is so cryptic that I miss it entirely), followed by a rise to 1018m and a swing left. This is all fine but it gets a little confused identifying the correct point on the rise at 1000m to hive off to the right. I eventually sort myself out and sporadic markers confirm I'm on track. There are fairly long stretches where I lose the foot trail and the markers but manage to hook up again keeping on route until the spur narrows dramatically for a steep scramble down to the river.
I'm concentrating on not losing my footing when a shadow flicks across my vision and I am suddenly looking at a Morepork staring back at me from 20 feet away. S/he is chilled enough to sit there; periodically scratching luxuriously under the chin with a large yellow claw that looks more suited to evisceration than settling an itch. It's the closest and clearest encounter I've ever had and is undoubtedly the highlight of the trip.
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About an hour fifty after leaving the biv I emerge bang on the Dorset Creek/Waiohine Junction. Looking back there are some markers to identify the location of the route up but not what you would call obvious. However, once you stick your head into the bush it is pretty easy to identify the way so I would be pretty confident about retracing my way up.
Both water ways are running clear and possibly just a little up. They have clean, rocky beds with tumbling white water between steep valley sides. At this time of day the sun is streaming down. It is the first time I've been this far up the Waiohine and it feels as isolated as anywhere I've been in the range despite knowing that I could probably get to any one of four different huts in under three hours. There is a definite attraction to following the river down just to see how it changes around each bend.
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| Take my word for it - there is a marker on the tree trunk on the left. |
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| Waiohine down stream from Dorset Creek |
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| Time for a break - Park Forks |
It is slow going and it takes more like 40 minutes to get to the Park / Waiohine forks where there's a strip of lawn for resting weary bones. It is an eminently pleasant spot to sit in the sun and listen to the two rivers.
I've scribbled some instructions from the Footprints page about the next section of travel up Dorset Ridge. These assure me that the route on to the ridge is marked from the Forks. I eventually find a few pieces of tatty plastic tape but these are old and don't seem to be marking anything particularly obvious.
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| Alleged location of route marker |
Swinging across a bank, the solid tree I am holding suddenly snaps and my course changes from a graceful arc onto the next foot hold to a tangential vector into a bit of a void. It's only about six feet down and I slide to a stop without losing too much skin. A quick check and the only visible damage is forearm that looks a little bit like steak - that will serve as a bit of a salient reminder about paying attention.
The rest of the route up is uneventful taking about an hour 30 to reach the bushline. The foot trail becomes a little more apparent but there is never what you would call much in the way of marking. It could be a little tricky following down, particularly the lower sections.
About 35 minutes later I'm on top of a knob looking across the broad tussocky top of Dorset Ridge. It's getting more cloudy now. This is another of those spots where you could quite imagine having trouble finding your way around in the clag.
The hut is well hidden down to the right below on a spur. It only becomes visible when I get quite a way across the flat. There are some cairn's on a patch of bare gravel at the north end of the flats but no signs that I could see. I decide not to take the time to visit today but if I were to want to be sure of finding it on a bad day I would definitely do a bit of research before I left.
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| Dorset Ridge - Girdlestone is the pyramid towards the right with Mitre behind |
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| Cairn marking where to turn off for Dorset Hut |
The rest of the ridge looks relatively gentle; sloping up to meet the shoulder of Girdlestone. I'm keen to get to Tarn hut now which was originally my intended destination for the night but I have an inclination to see whether a night at Atiwhakatu is on the cards.
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| Dorset Ridge from the top looking south west |
At the top of Dorset Ridge I see a figure on point 1393 above the location of Tarn hut. It's the first person for the day and as I get closer I see that they are also heading for the hut.
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| Tarn hut and dunny |
It's 14:10 when I arrive at the hut. The other chap is in a party of three and is dumping his stuff before heading back to see where his companions have got to. I'm a little distracted sorting my own life out so don't think to ask a few questions before he shoots off. After he leaves I realise I should have got an idea of their fitness, skill, gear etc. and determined whether I should stick around to confirm they were reunited.
A few photos, water top up and log book entry burns up quarter of an hour before I head back up the ridge. I keep an eye out behind and am relieved when I eventually see three figures breasting the knob near the hut.
Half an hour later I've ground to the top of Girdlestone - I think the second highest peak in the park (behind Mitre). The wind is getting up but it is worth stopping to do a slow 360 of the whole vista.
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| Looking back - the straight line is Tarn Ridge - the heart of the northern crossing |
This is a bit of a junction - we could head to Mitre and the way down to Mitre flats and the Waingawa river, or may be head north and east on Table Ridge to drop to Cow Creek hut, or continue on plan along the somewhat lumpy ridge through the Three Kings. At this time of day and feeling a little weary there's no choice.
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| Adkin and the Three Kings - the route ahead |
It's a bit of a scramble down off Girdlestone around 15:00 then quite a down and up route to cross the next four peaks and unnamed bumps (Adkin at 15:50, North King at 16:30, Mid King at 16:55, South King at 17:10). Hardly Olympic pace. The wind keeps rising and it's got a great head of steam as it whistles up Dorset Creek valley and across the ridge. It becomes a bit of an ordeal keeping footing, avoiding the Spaniards and ticking off progress. Mitre and Peggy slowly slip behind.
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| Mitre. |
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| From one of the Kings looking back to Girdlestone |
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| From another King - looking back at Girdlestone with Mitre on right |
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| Mid King - according to the sign someone has buried the Biv around here somewhere |
Approaching South King there is a spur apparent but I'm pretty sure it isn't Baldy. Sure enough passing South King, Baldy is very clear and there is a cairn on the barren rounded ridge top to mark the route. A little over a kilometer further along the ridge is McGregor where I had been standing this morning. In between are the Broken Axe Pinnacles which I am keen to explore but not today. Across the valley Jumbo hut is basking in the afternoon sun. Should someone be sitting on the porch they might wonder at the little red dot being buffeted down the spur by an obstreperous wind.
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| From South King - McGregor ahead, spur to Baldy in saddle |
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| From the ridge looking down - Baldy on left - spur with Jumbo on right |
The route is not marked but there's a pretty good foot trail from the ridge (about 17:20pm) and on top of Baldy (17:50) there are a number of cairns to mark the way. A little further down there is the odd rusty warratah. This is another of those spots where a misty day could make route finding a little tricky.
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| From Baldy looking back to the ridge McGregor on left with the Broken Axe Pinnacles showing a little bit of their teeth |
I'm pretty fed up with the wind by now. The sun is pleasant but the wind certainly isn't so I'm relieved to see an orange marker indicating the entry point to the bushline (18:10).
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| Haven't seen one of those for ages |
As a final reminder of the tops there is one last Spiky Spaniard lurking endearingly behind a wee beech tree to catch the unwary - just at the point where a hand would be placed to ease a foot down onto the obscured path.
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| Beech tree and not a beech tree |
The bush enfolds the path and the wind is relegated to a noise in the tree tops. Travel is a completely different proposition now. It's steepish but easy to follow and comfortingly familiar with mossy trunks and roots to turn the unwary foot.
Part way down I am diverted by what is undoubtedly the highlight of the day (again?). A flight (gang?) of kaka racket across above the canopy and land in one of the emergent trees. I'm not sure at first but soon catch a glimpse. They are making all sorts of noises and having a fine old time. As I potter down I try to imitate some of the sounds and it does seem that one of them responds and comes closer to investigate. In any event they keep me company for quite a few minutes. It is quite a moment - one that I had hoped but never quite believed that I would ever see in the Tararuas.
After that it's all pretty much down hill arriving at the saddle 30 minutes from the bushline.
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| On track |
The track is now pretty easy to follow. There is a bit of up and down and a few slips along the Atiwhakatu and, as always at this time of day, I'm pretty much over it and hanging out for the hut. I can tell that I haven't eaten enough but am not about to stop now. Eventually I smell wood smoke and a few minutes later, about 19:40, the hut.
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| Atiwhakatu hut |
Since I was here yesterday it has become over-run by a young boys Christian adventure group. They are having a fine old time shouting around the landscape, waving the axe about and playing with an open fire. All under some supervision from a group of men. There are other groups in also including a couple with a 14 m/o child. I ascertain that there is a spare mattress and promptly shift it to the safety of the deck, away from all danger of snoring, wailing and speaking in tongues.
I chat to the adults, do my best to ignore the boys and slump into a corner to recuperate. This elicits an offer of milo (gratefully accepted) and someone discovers a spare dehy meal that was prepared but remained unscoffed by the locusts. A bit cold but I figure it beats sardines and a muesli bar.
The clever adults have led the boys to believe that it is an hour later than it actually is so they swallow the 'it's time for bed and I don't want to hear any noise' line. It turns out that there are in fact even more boys - the older contingent were dispatched up to Jumbo hut in the late afternoon with some token adults.
I chat to one of the other groups for a bit and am preparing to turn in when I see a couple of lights descending the spur - I wonder if something has gone wrong at Jumbo but it turns out to be a couple of chaps that have come across from Levin. They are doing a one day Northern Crossing which is a bit of a mission. They just have day bags so are not about to stay at the hut but fill in the log book and head on through the night.
It's peaceful on the deck. The wind occasional makes a loud sortie to the valley floor but there's no rain and it's pretty mild - I remain unmolested by insects or rodents. It's all of 0500 before the first cheeky young sod decides it would be good sport to make loud vacuous conversation with the strange man who slept outside. I give up, get up, pack up and quietly ship out.
Despite the weariness from yesterday, it is a quicker return trip in daylight, taking 55 minutes to get back to the carpark. The sun shimmies down the hill sides above and, apart from one jogger, I have the place to myself.
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| Holdsworth Carpark |
The advantage of finishing a weekend tramp a day early is that a day yawns ahead unencumbered by commitments. On this occasion I start with a stop at the Greytown Bakery for an excellent Pain au Raisin then on down to Kaitoke campsite where Mike, Angela and Toby are camping out with the Wellington Tramping Meet Up Group. I arrive to see bleary eyed figures shambling out of an assortment of tents - some apparently ruing the excesses of the night before but most looking forward to various day trips before heading back to Wellington.
Back home the yawning day is quickly consumed by a hot bath, going to sleep in the hot bath, and trying to catch up on deficits in nutrition, hydration and sleep. All up a highly successful weekend.
Three days later the grated forearm is healing quickly with only minimal indications of gangrene and slight tendency to leak through telfa pads onto business shirts.
Better start making some plans for the next two weekends.
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