Since my trip last New Year, I've been itching to get back into the Tasman Wilderness. This time I'm interested in the rivers ranges and spurs around the Beautiful River.
There is little to nothing on line of help and I glean only meagre intel from other sources. One source I was hopeful about was the "North West Nelson Tramping Guide" by Derek Shaw (1991). When I eventually track down a copy he proves to be down-right coy: "It would contradict the philosophy of wilderness ... to provide detailed descriptions of routes through the Tasman Wilderness Area."
He has a point - and hence this blog is not as detailed as usual.
I pour over the topos and aerial photos, layout various route options, identify sections that might be gnarly, and work out some contingency exit routes.
The final plan is to start from the Cobb reservoir, head over the Peel Range and down Kimbell Spur into the Roaring Lion. Then up the Beautiful River and onto the Marshall Range and down to Roaring Lion hut. Finally exit up Kakapo Spur to Flora Saddle via the Tablelands.
I estimate how far I'll get each day, chuck in a day for optimism bias and another day for contingencies = 10 days.
The forecast is good apart from a bit of rain in a couple of days.
Cobb to Kimbell
It's already a hot day as we head up the Cobb road past the music festival which is just starting to stir. There are few other cars on the roads but the car park at Trilobite hut is just about full. The dam is as low as I've seen it with a spit of land almost crossing the middle of the reservoir.
It's just after 0830 as I heft my heavy pack and say goodbye to the support crew who is not relishing the drive out.
I take it easy up the valley through coolish beech groves and across grassy flats with bulbinella adding a scattering of yellow.
It's about an hour 15 to Chaffey hut. A couple are just getting ready to depart for Trilobite and I stop to chat and fill in the log - staying a little longer than I intended. They'd come down here instead of staying at the busy Fenella hut.
From Chaffey hut I head up Chaffey Stream and follow it as it dwindles until the final climb to a saddle on the Peel Range. There's little in the way of a trail with the exception of a short section of trapline.
At the top, the ridges and valleys of the Tasman Wilderness come into view with the Roaring Lion River far below.
To my right is Mt Prospect, directly below is Breakfast Creek (one of my potential bail routes), and to my left, is the climb to Mt Ranolf on the Peel Range. It's mostly overcast which is helpful.
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| Down Chaffey Stream |
A falcon is cruising high above the Chaffey Valley and keeps calling - possibly put out by my presence. As I grind up towards Mt Ranolf, behind me Lake Henderson at the top of Breakfast Creek peeks around the shoulder of Mt Prospect.
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| Lake Henderson, Mt Prospect on right |
About 1320 I 'm high enough on Mt Ranolf to get my first view of the Kimbell spur. A couple of things are apparent - the top end near Mt Ranolf looks gnarly, and there's a basin with a tarn below the south west face of the peak. Despite the clouds there seems to be a clear patch of sky that follows me around, and it's hot going.
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| Basin below Ranolf - Kimbell Spur runs away on right |
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| Towards the Marshall Range |
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| Peel Range |
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| Mt Ranolf from pt 1573 |
There are some bouldery scrambles and the odd high sidle to get along the spur to pt 1610. The spur has quite a different character to Kakapo, which is wider and more undulating without quite the same number of bones.
Kimbell Spur has some interesting sections and a distinct lack of water apart from some tarns in basins below the ridge.
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| First of the tarns below pt 1610 |
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| Basin above pt 1305 |
I have my eye on a basin by the bushline with a marked stream for a campsite. It turns out to be bone dry so I have to ration what I have.
My tent is of much interest to the local weka clan. One takes a shine to a tent peg, jumping in the air and pecking down hard on top - I shift him along when he starts to pull on the guy line to see if he can get it out that way. Too clever by half.
There's not a breath of wind as I sit with my back against a sun-warm rock eating dinner and studying the Marshall Range. It looks pretty boney.
As I drift off to sleep - apart from the odd worry about wekas knicking the tent pegs - I take stock. I'm a little worried about the water but have enough to get through. It's been hard going with the heavy pack. Once off this spur I'll be in the lower reaches of the Roaring Lion River - I'm always a bit nervous about rivers and particularly when I don't know what's around the next bend.
Kimbell to Roaring Lion Hut
The morning dawns still with the Marshall Range peering above mist in the Roaring Lion Valley.
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| Up the Roaring Lion |
The spur joins the Roaring Lion at the junction with Cub Stream. The river is deep around the corner but looks to be in normal to low flow.
I work my way down valley sometimes in the river and sometimes sidling.
The final gift from the river is a chest deep wade which gives the chance for a wash before reaching the hut. It's tucked in a wee clearing overlooking the river flats and straight up the Beautiful River valley. The sun is still catching the clearing and the ridges above. Paradise ducks and plover make their presence known on the flats.
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| Up the Beautiful River Valley from the hut terrace |
First impressions are good - the hut is a tidy 5 bedder in good nick and sporting a recently added deck. It's the last homely hut - north of here is the Tasman Wilderness without such luxuries.
The second impression is the hoards of sandflies resting on the outside hut walls - presumably waiting for a feed to turn up.
There's no one home - but the last visitor was just two days ago. I settle in to find that the hut has been well looked after with someone even supplying loo paper and hand sanitiser. I set clothes to dry and get dinner underway.
Up the Beautiful
I sleep soundly and long. There's a bit of rain in the night, as forecast, but no wind. I'm expecting today to be a bit soggy but not cold. The skies are grey and morning mist hangs about the hills.
The bush is wet so, pretty soon, so am I and it stays that way all day. A see at least three groups of whio, who perform the ritual of crossing the river to keep an eye on me from closer in - which they do by shuttling to and fro in the shallows whistling.
Lake Barfoot has been formed by a large slip blocking the valley. It's still, weedy and murky and various waterfowl are stooging around in the distance. It's trying to drizzle again and the scene is peaceful but somewhat somber.
A little further up valley I stumble on a hunters camp with a hammock under a fly. The hammock contains various tools and some effort has been put into the camp with drainage channels and trees cut down for firewood. I guess it's some hunters up-valley base. Similar to many I have seen except this one hasn't been abandoned yet.
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| Random grassy terrace |
The on and off again drizzle is off again as I pitch camp on a soft spot near the river. It's closer to river level than I would normally camp but the forecast is good and the drizzle during the day hasn't made any difference to the river.
It's another calm and quiet night and I sleep well, apart from waking to a distance boom. I drowsily wonder about rock falls causing a surge of water down the river or a thunderstorm causing flash flooding from the head waters. Neither eventuate as I drift off again.
The Marshall
The morning is similar with a prickle of moisture from grey skies as I pack a damp tent and prepare breakfast. In an effort to lift my energy intake I am adding a bit of oil to breakfasts and dinner. I make a mental note to find something with less flavour than olive oil - it's an odd taste in your porridge.
It's a stiff climb and I break at the top for lunch, to dry some kit, and to appreciate the views back down the Beautiful and around at the surrounding ranges and peaks.
I can see where I followed a broken compass off Centre Mountain to drop into the wrong valley last year. I can also see where I finally dropped into the Roaring Lion but could have taken an easier line.
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| Down the Beautiful |
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| Centre Mountain above the headwaters of the RL (right) |
Of more interest though is the Marshall Range running away to the east before curving south. It looks a bit ominous.
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After navigating a chute, I fetch up by a jumble of rocks and am delighted to be confronted by a couple of Piwauwau - rock wren. It's the first time I've seen them close up and they are absolute characters - bobbing and making 'chip chip' sounds as they check me out. They carry on their dance, but I have to keep going.
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In the late afternoon I find a route into a basin with a tarn - the descent is a bit sketchy.
As the slope eases into deeper tussock and spaniard I'm surprised to see an electric fence standard. It turns out to be marking a tracking tunnel which is in the process of merging into the landscape.
There's a few water sources in the basin and I start to zigzag my way down looking for a viable campsite. Stepping onto a rock one foot fails to find solid ground and suddenly I find myself pitching into an invisible slot. The drop is about a meter into a stagnant pool leaving me upended and wedged between pack and rock.
After the initial shock I'm relieved there's no serious injury - getting out is another question though. There's no bottom to the sludge and no purchase to push body and pack upwards. I have my PLB in reach on my hip but it hasn't come to that yet - and how embarrassing would it be! With a bit of wriggling I get some purchase with one leg and lever myself out - there's some new grazes on one hand but mainly just injured pride to deal with.
The evening is calm and weka calls echo across the basin. In the tussocks I can hear wee birds chirping - it sounds like rock wrens but I don't actually see any. I do see a weka family working the edge of a nearby tarn and double check the tent pegs are well pushed in.
One of the last things before climbing into my pit is to put my compass in a safe spot. As I remove it from it's familiar place around my neck something is wrong.
The front is smashed and the liquid gone - the needle rattles in the empty casing along with shards of plastic. It seems that in my earlier slip the compass has come between my chest and the rock and absorbed the impact by imploding. I've had compasses fail through mechanical fault, magnetic influence and excessive bubble formation but never from blunt force trauma.
I'm quite dependent on my compass - trusting it over my sense of direction and referring to it constantly when I'm unsighted due to clag, bush cover or topography. I don't carry a spare and the prospect of being without it feels wrong and risky - but what in fact are the implications?
I quickly realise that in this weather visibility on the tops means I will largely be navigating based on the map and visuals and rarely needing the compass if at all. The challenge will come below the bushline - fortunately my In-Reach has a compass function and can give map references to transpose to the map - finally my cell phone GPS can provide position fixes in its own right and can link with my InReach. There's plenty of charge in the InReach and I have a power bank - so, barring failures I have layers of redundancy.
Comfortable with my conclusions, I do a few sudoku to switch my brain into a different gear then settle down to reflect on the day. I play through the contrasting experiences of the morning and afternoon. Sore muscles start to slowly unwind and I drift off to the night sounds, including possibly a kiwi call.
More Marshall Range
I sleep well and wake as the sun starts creeping down the face. From the tent I can see a clear blue day above the Domett Range.
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| From camp to Domett Range |
The In-reach gives me a weather forecast which confirms things should be good for the next few days. Over breakfast (with the taste of olive oil) I study the map for what the day will have in store.
I don't want to wait for the sun to reach my possie so pack a damp tent, fill my water and start the grind up to the ridge.
The Range throws even more challenges at me today - and also views down into tarns and across to other ranges.
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| Looking south - Downey Creek headwaters on left |
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After some particularly challenging territory I spot a possible water source and campsite below the ridge and call it a day slightly early.
With immediate jobs done I can pause and take stock of the day. It been tough and I reflect on whether I've accurately assessed the real versus perceived risks and made justifiable decisions, in light of my abilities and the consequences of a hand or foot hold failing. I'm also thoughtful that the ridge tomorrow looks ok on the map, but what I could see today gives pause for thought.
It's still light as I crawl into my tent and warm enough I can lie out of my bag and let my feet get thoroughly dry (after a bit of a wash to make them fit company in a confined space).
The evening routine is completed by a few puzzles until eyelids get heavy. Overhead a group of kea call as they cruise the basin before commuting down valley. Bellbirds call in the bush edge and wekas bounce their calls off the mountain sides. A few blowflies blunder in and out of the fly as the residual heat of the day keeps their metabolisms in overdrive.
Return to the Lion
The morning sun streams into the basin earlier than yesterday and I take the opportunity to dry the tent, and set a few things to airing - including boots and sleeping bag.
My trou are a bit the worse for wear from serving as an extra friction point on steep granite. The first layer is trashed but I'm not quite arse out yet. They might require something more than duct tape.
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I get away with full water bottles and, as I toddle along the ridge, take every opportunity to study the route ahead.
It's all clear blue skies. Down the Beautiful, Marshall Range tails away towards the Garabaldi Ridge and a falcon cruises through a saddle ahead.
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| Down the Beautiful |
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| Across to Kimbell Spur |
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| Garabaldi Ridge and Karamea/Lion/Beautiful junction |
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Finally, I get to the bushline and start the final descent from the range. The travel has been tough on the tops with some real challenges and I'm looking forward to a bit of downhill.
Usually I constantly refer to my compass but I find the Garmin less intuitive and more time consuming so I look at it less than I should and have a few deviations from the line of the spur.
Eventually I drop into the Roaring Lion Riverbed metres from where I joined it in my final approach to the hut some days ago.
It's been a slow descent but as I round a corner the sun streams up the river, and I know the hut is not far.
My feet certainly need and appreciate the repeated rinsing in the river and the last chest high wade gives the opportunity for a bit of a wash. The only thing of note is a couple of whio that paddle slowly up river on the calm water keeping a careful eye on me. It takes a while for them to pass, and it seems an awful lot of effort when they can fly.
I drip my way from the river to the hut and there's a moment of disappointment at seeing clothes on the line. Hopefully there's a bed spare. However, I am much more feeling chuffed to be here finally, in one piece and able to relax after ticking off the two hardest stages of the trip.
There is a bed spare - the other occupants are four expat South African fishers - three of whom are still out hunting fish. They turn out to be good company - they attended the same school in SA and get together regularly for fishing trips to various parts of the country.
They are also generous - offering me a glass of wine and taking care to include me in their conversations. They've helicoptered in so have a bit more food and gear then me.
The hut is full of people and gear of course, but despite a bit of banter, no one snores badly.
Hut day
I have time up my sleeve, need a bit of rest and definitely need to do a bit of washing - today will be a hut day. I wake with the fishers and wave good-bye as they fish off up the Roaring Lion.
The sun takes a while to clear the the trees, but when it does it's great weather for airing sleeping bag and boots; washing and drying grimy, sweaty clothes; and using some soap for a wash rather than just rinsing. This consists of briefly washing vigorously at the basin then running away beating one's self as sandflies descend voraciously on bare flesh - and repeat.
I fritter the day away tidying the hut, checking kit, catching up on calories, and read the only book in the hut library that is not a western, hunting mag, or crime novel written in Finnish (or similar).
Sitting on the deck is very pleasant but, despite Dimp on exposed skin, I am constantly mobbed by clouds of sandflies.
By the end of the day I'm prepared and mentally set for getting back on the trail. Physically, the rest day was much needed, but I'm still going to feel the long climb tomorrow.
My hut companions return while I'm out for a short walk. They report success with a couple of reasonably sized fish caught, and released. They'd had no trouble and just a couple of low sidles required to avoid swimming.
There's no fish for dinner though - they point out that it's a bit of a hassle carrying a fish during the day without it spoiling unless it is a catch close to the end of the day.
They get on with washing, cooking, drinking whisky (not excessively and they do offer a glass), and sorting gear for their plans for the next few days - they're going to head further up the Lion and camp for a couple of days before returning for their trip out.
I'm ready for tomorrow so keep out of the way and watch the good natured chaos before the hut finally falls silent somewhat later than I am used to.
Kakapo spur
Kakapo Spur is a big climb (1200m), then long undulating tops travel. I've picked a couple of likely and a couple of possible campsites - depending on how I go.
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| Glimpse of earthquake lake on the Karamea |
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| Garabaldi Ridge |
There's little of note on the long climb. I find a nice example of dog vomit slime mould (it's sometimes called a fungus but is a protozoa and quite a weird organism).
On the way up a couple of weka flank me and maintain a series of loud shrieks while peering around trees at me - they couldn't seem to make up their minds to be afraid, or to come at me like a pack of velociraptors.
I stop at the bush edge for lunch and a long rest before starting the grind up to pt 1497. At the top I can see long spurs running down to the Leslie and Karamea Rivers, Mt Arthur and the Twins on the horizon, as well as back to Kimbell Spur and Marshall Range. Unfortunately, I can also see that Kakapo Spur is interminable.
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| Across Kimbell and up the Roaring Lion |
Pottering along the spur, there are sporadic tarns in basins or on shelves below on the right but no water on the ridge apart from a septic puddle. A few spots that look promising look dry from above.
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| Maybe two aquatabs? |
When I reach my target tarn, I find a way down to find that the water is a little less than pristine.
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I find a spot for the tent and a tiny trickle of water that is not so brown.
Dinner is out of the way just before the basin loses the sun - relatively early given its eastern aspect. It's dead calm and a peaceful night.
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Peel, Tablelands and Flora
I wake a little before the sun broaches the Wharepapa Range. There's a possibility I will get to the Flora carpark today, although it will depend how the Peel Range goes. I've heard a few comments about tricky bits and sidles.
I do my best to get the tent dry as I munch breakfast and get ready.
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| Up to the Peel Range |
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| Back down Kakapo Spur |
On the Peel Range I make a complete hash of my route choices. Wasting about an hour before working out a sensible route. I'm entirely grumpy with myself and the ridge.
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| Mt Mytton Ridge |
I join the ridge near Mt Mytton shortly before 1100. There are foot trails to be found in the tussocks and new vistas open - down to the Cobb and across to Mt Peel. The rock types switch, first to limestone and then to something resembling schist.
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| Mt Peel with Cobb Reservoir to left |
The last little challenge is the climb to Mt Peel which is up a scree slope, it's just a question of knuckling down and I'm soon on ground I've covered before.
A figure appears ahead and turns out to be one of a couple of older Nelson women, who are based at Salisbury Lodge - surprisingly they had the hut to themselves and spent a quiet night playing Yahtzee. The hut has been pumping when I've been through previously at this time of year.
They have taken advantage of the superb conditions to climb Mt Peel. It's an easy walk but I'm impressed that people of their, um, advanced years are getting out and into it. We chat for a bit but I'm keen to get on my way to lunch at Balloon Hut.
Around 1200 I get my first look down into Lake Peel and 20 minutes later join the track where it climbs up from the outlet. From here on in it's well-trod tracks.
This pretty much marks the end of the trip as far as my brain is concerned. There's far less need to be assessing risks and options and I switch to commuter mode.
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| The Tablelands - Balloon Hut ahead, Gordon's Pyramid on left, Mt Arthur left of centre. |
Balloon Hut is a welcome sight tucked in at the edge of some bush. It's probably my favourite hut in this neck of the woods. I arrive around 1245 and settle in the shade of the verandah to see to a few key matters: lunch, drinking a lot of water, sending messages to arrange a pick up, and drinking more water.
I don't see the warden at the hut but it is looking immaculate. There's just the two women's gear, and a weka stooging around outside. More water, and I study the map to decide next moves. I was going to head over Gordon's Pyramid and through Horse Shoe Basin, but, despite the allure of seeing old caving haunts, decide it's just too hot. I select the shady Flora Stream valley.
I bump into one couple near Upper Junction who enquire how busy Salisbury is and are relieved when I say there are only two women, but they might have to play yahtzee. They volunteer that someone has a wedding planned tomorrow at Flora Hut and are monopolising the carpark, so my ride might have troubles finding a park.
My feet are pretty tender from walking on compacted surfaces but I try to keep a steady pace up the valley. There are already plenty of tents at Flora Hut - presumably the wedding group - but I don't stop to chat as I follow the road through the clearing. From there it's a short stretch to the saddle and down to the carpark.
It's just after 1730 when I arrive. Brother number one has very kindly offered to pop over from Nelson to pick me up but hasn't arrived yet so I have time to have a top body and feet wash at the tap and don my least smelly clothes. I wrap my reeking socks well, and they go in the back of the ute when he arrives a few minutes later.
Postscript
Mission accomplished. There was some pretty tough territory though and things would not have had to pan out much differently for me to have needed to take a contingency route. I was lucky with the weather - I would not like to travel the Marshall in bad weather and some parts I will not be hurrying back to.
Food
Dinners were a mix of commercial dehy and dehy spud plus various additives (dehy capers, olives, chargrilled peppers, and mushroom, plus a cuppa soup).
Brekky was porridge (oats, salt, milk powder, raisin - add hot water and wait). Plus a few dehy cooked brekkies for variety.
Lunch - 10 vita wheat crackers/day plus hummus/wild salami/cheese.
Snacks - usual sort of stuff
Water - 4L carry capacity which I used on many days. I took used a fair few aquatabs.
All cooking was on my trusty old penny stove.
I did the calculations at the start and had a great deal of trouble designing a menu with enough energy to cover likely output levels - and that I could actually get through. In the end I opted to carry oil to mix into meals and to run at a net deficit (I was carrying a bit of spare around the middle so that's no bad thing).
I packed approx 800g of food/day and I didn't get through it all. But, the homework on energy sources and balance seemed to pay off. I'll carry less next long trip as I just don't get through the volume and for 10 days can afford to be in deficit.
Palatability is so important and I'll be taking less of the standard Back Country range as there are only a handful that I actually look forward to. This time I split the double serves in half and added carbs (dehy pasta or spuds) and additional flavouring which helped.
Gear
I had the usual stuff including MacPac Microlight tent, InReach Mini 2 and separate PLB. I carried no more clothes than a weekend trip knowing there would be plenty of washing opportunities.
All gear held up ok - the compass gave its all but it was not really normal wear and tear so I brought the same one again as soon as I got home (Silva Ranger). I felt more comfortable with both a PLB and InReach Mini - I had just been carrying the later but was happier with the redundancy. Salewa Mt Trainer boots were in their element - a little hard under foot but very good both on the rocks and in the soft stuff - they might just be the best boots I have ever owned. Hunters Element spur trousers sustained some damage, but they have done a few trips now so I'm ok with that (unlike their useless boots last year!).
Body and mind
Physically, I was not quite fit enough at the start but lasted the distance. The hands took a bit of a beating on the rocks but nothing serious and no first aid required. The usual bodily aches and pains but no blisters, strains or chafe. I would have got through without the rest day, but it was good to have it. Mentally, being on my own is not an issue, there were a few stretches where I was just tired and fed up (e.g. Kakapo spur just felt tedious).
A few salient reminders about risk management. These ranges have surprises that are not apparent on the topo map. It was important to have the rest day up the sleeve and I'm pleased that I had done work on various contingency route.
Next?
I don't think I'm finished with the Wilderness Area yet - or vice versa. There are plenty more routes that I want to explore. although I'll be a bit better informed next time.
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