A classic northern - and the final spot

As the last handful of spot-heights have ticked by, I've been trying to think of a suitable way to finish them off. Two are on the Main Range so, an SK tops perhaps? A bit of a grand gesture.

There's one spot however, that was just more ... interesting. Pt 953; on a spur that drops north east from Bannister splitting the headwaters of the Ruamahanga. It's a bit of a mission to get to from any angle and has so far eluded my efforts to link it into a through trip. It seems a fitting finale - just a question of designing the route.

The two other spots are on the ridge between Dundas and Arete - so it will have to be a west - east traverse, a little north of the usual Tarn Ridge highway. In a nod to Tararua history it seems fitting to throw in a few routes that are no longer on the maps.

So, the final plan is a Poads Road entry to head up the Ohau River and Deception Spur; drop into the Mangahao then climb Triangle Spur to the Main Range at Dundas. From there, pick off two spots on the way to Arete Hut for the night. The following day, climb to Bannister, drop to 953 and crack open an imaginary bottle of bubbly. It looks like a steep but doable drop to the river junction and a steep but navigable spur to Pukekino on Cattle Ridge.  The quickest exit from there looks like the old track from Cow Saddle up to the Blue Range track and out to Kiriwhakapapa.

Two days should do it, but I'll take an annual leave day in case.

As this trip marks the culmination of a somewhat lengthy and eccentric pursuit, I guess I should briefly address a few obvious questions.

What is a spot height?  They are cartographer creations from the process of making the topo maps; most of them have nothing to distinguish them on the ground.

How many are there in the Tararuas?  Until recently I would say there were probably three or four hundred. However, to claim I've visited them all, I should have a more precise estimate so did my best to count them. Turns out there is around 650 and they are bloody awkward to count. Here's the DOC map website if you want to check (select topo maps and turn on public conservation areas in the drop down menus).

I pulled a few notes together on spot-heighting a while back - they might even provide enough of a response to the other obvious question ("why?") to avoid committal under the Mental Health (Compulsory Assessment and Treatment) Act 1992.

One final word on the matter; by knocking off the spot heights one cannot be considered to have 'done' the Tararuas - much though I might like to think so. There are tracks, huts, unofficial huts, old hut sites, rivers, streams, waterfalls, spurs, plane wrecks, vegetation types, geological features ... any number of reasons to explore a little bit more. But I reckon after this I might have had enough for a while.


What:     Spot-heighting, navigation, northern crossing
Where:    Ohau to Kiriwhakapapa
When:     18-19 May 2019
Who:       Solo
Map

The whole 9 yards

At 04.30 the cell phone buzzes to confirm that Mike has scraped himself out of bed and will be heading my way soon.

In an impressively complicated plan he is dropping me up the coast whilst Angela and my usual support crew head to Nelson to buy a house - but that's another story.

It's a pleasant change to have company for the trip which consequently passes quickly. There's a near full moon but a lot of cloud about, I'll be keeping an anxious eye on the weather all weekend as it is forecast to deteriorate to gales and rain in the afternoon, becoming severe over night.

About 7am Mike wishes me luck and I  head out with headtorch on. It's calm with no sign of wind, let alone the forecast gales.

I'm well along the gorge track when a figure appears in the gloom. The hunter is good natured about the prospect of me blundering ahead and disturbing the game. He brushes aside my apology and says he's heading up Blackwater Creek for a look and aims to be home in time to have lunch with the missus.

About 7.50am the track takes to the river where the rocks are wet and slippery from the periodic drizzle; at least the river isn't up. I potter on to the base of Deception Spur by 8.30. And that's the most useful the walking poles get all trip.

Base of Deception Spur - junction of North and South Ohau branches




Saturday - the interesting bits

The base of the spur is steep with lots of regenerating rata. And a band of kiekie (that Dr Suess designed sprawler with dark green hard edged strappy leaves). Easy to drift off the foot trail through here. Further up there's a good ground trail. Few views - all of mist, and I'm getting somewhat damp from the occasional shower and pushing through wet vegetation.

My risk assessment is most on my mind - the weather is number one, and slips and falls are number two. I've defined the assessment points and contingencies, should it deteriorate faster and further than predicted, and keep rehashing them in my head. I'm most conscious of not letting the pursuit of the last spot eclipse getting out on my own two feet.

At 1020 I'm at the cairn on the ridge (865m) - still no wind, and cold and dank. A smart right turn to follow the trail along and down the spur towards Girdlestone.

Top of Deception

I reckon there must be an old route down here somewhere - I failed to find it once before but I'm not concerned about bush bashing to the bottom. I pick a spot where the spur flattens just above the 720m contour - there's a bit of a spur leading to the left - no trail but it looks good. It isn't, but I manage to cross a wee creek and sidle across slope to the right and onto the correct spur which has blue triangles and a strong ground trail. I follow this down to the junction of a creek and the Mangahao River. It's a bit after 11; still overcast but calm. (last time through I think I came down just a little south of here)

Pairs of piwakawaka flit above the river from the trees as I top up with water ahead of the long climb to the Main Range.
.

Back across Mangahao River to the base of the spur I came down

Across the river and down stream 50 odd metres there's a short scramble onto an old terrace, where the main valley track is easily found - there's orange tape and a rat tunnel on the track; about opposite the wee stream I emerged beside.

Big rats here - look at the size of the rock

I still haven't found the best route onto the base of Triangle Spur, but it is pretty open bush so easy to wander about and up until you see a pink ribbon and a ground trail. I knuckle down for the long climb - 900m or so.

The temperature drops and a wee breeze springs up but still nothing significant. I have a bit of trouble keeping to the trail towards the bushline, but on exiting I find some blue tape and a swathe through the scrub. The breeze has stiffened.

Out of the bush - not a lot to see

As the wind strengthens, the temperature drops. I'm pretty damp so it's time to get into the lee of a knob and whip my top off to don a merino layer - as well as gloves and balaclava.

I'm at my first assessment point - out of the bush the conditions are deteriorating but still ok so I decide to push on to the ridge.

The wind gets stronger towards the top and is now whipping across the ridge. I hunker in the tussock to get a bearing and check the map as the clag is well set in now.

It's downright unpleasant on the ridge with the wind slashing stinging rain against my exposed cheek and pushing me about. There's a couple of points where I need to check the map because of the clag and near pt 1437 I drift onto an animal trail heading west down a spur - fortunately quickly identified and rectified.

It becomes one of those head down and soldier on experiences. I'm conscious that there are no real bail options from here - down to the left are steep faces into a leatherwooded hell and down to the right is ... the same. Soaked through, the only way to maintain temperature is to keep moving - stops are short.  I pretty quickly lose count of the ups and downs but keep an average bearing for the ridge on my compass - I'm focused on the wee climb to the sign on the ridge pointing to Arete Hut. The walking poles are a help to keep balance in the wind but catch on everything and are a hazard when clambering.

The dried heads of spiky spaniards periodically fool me into seeing snow poles (there's none along here), until finally one turns out to be an old metal stake - and then the sign. The trail down starts ok but is not that easy to follow as it drops towards the wide face the hut is tucked into. I remember to pass the tarn on my left then follow my nose until the hut pops out from the dip it is hiding in. I've heard of people staggering about having a deal of trouble finding it in bad conditions.

I'm pleased to find it empty. At 4.30 it has hardly been a long day but I'm wet, cold and tired. It's an immense relief to close the door on the wind and rain and set about getting soup on and sopping clothes off - they'll not be drying tonight and I can already feel what they will be like to put on in the morning.

Phew

Arete is a tidy wee two bed hut with a bench. It's surprisingly small for where it is located - on the nexus of the Main Range and the Northern Crossing. There are quite a few log entries from people who have headed out for some adventure, only to be beaten back to the hut by the weather. I join the list of people that have been entirely relieved to finally reach this haven.

Once settled in, it dawns that the trip along the ridge knocked off the third and second to last spot heights - there's only one to go. I'm painfully aware though, that that can't enter into my decision making. If all goes as forecast, severe gales will come through tonight with plenty of rain which will die through the morning. The morning of course when I intend to climb the exposed ridge to Bannister.

It's 7 degrees in the hut so not freezing but I get into my sleeping bag and read a VUW tramping club year book. It's either that or hunting magazines.  Outside the wind gets up further and the hut thrums.

The gale certainly becomes severe during the night. You know those gusts that wake you and get to the point where you think something will give if it continues - I remind myself the hut has withstood far worse, roll over and try to cover my exposed ear. The wind lashes sheets of rain against the hut.

There's a big moon somewhere above this chaotic weather.  It has the clag glowing, without giving any sense of source.

It's after 7 when I wake enough to decide to make preparations. It's light, and despite the clag there is a bit of visibility. The wind has dropped but it is cold with occasional drifts of rain. 

The plan is to cross the basin above Arete Stream and see what the wind is like in the saddle, then start the climb up the Twins - if it is too rough I'll turn back for a day at the hut.

As I get ready, the clag starts to shred and a glow of sun reflecting off distant slopes peers through where the saddle to the Twins must be.  As I watch, the sky clears briefly to the east to show a sunny morning in the Wairarapa.

I'm much happier setting out knowing that with the west-east flow over the mountains it will be drier and clearer in the direction I'm heading.

A hopeful sign

About 8.30 I have dragged on the last off my sopping gear and closed the door. I take a bearing but quickly discover it isn't needed. There's a path past the loo that leads down a wee spur to an old sign to the hut. After this a few cairns and a bit of a foot trail lead diagonally up slope - I drift off line but soon find a strong foot trail that sidles onto the ridge above the saddle. I've stashed one walking pole in my pack but can't say the other one is adding much value.

Start of Sunday - Arrows to Arete Hut and pt 953

It's bitterly cold but the wind has dropped further and the rain is holding off. I decide it's a goer and start climbing to the first Twin. The clag periodically breaks and gives glimpses of a sunny Table Ridge, and, briefly the bright dot of Arete Forks Hut way below.

On the Twins I note the puddle I drank from last time - it would be pretty clean now given the rinsing it got last night.

Towards Table Ridge

Approaching the top of the second Twin, Bannister plays hide and seek through the clag.




Second Twin and up to Bannister

Around 9.40 I'm on Bannister - the wind is chill and the rugged ridge route to Waingawa is appearing and disappearing literally every few seconds.

What was supposed to be the riskiest part of the day is over - nothing but a stretch of spur between me and that final spot. I check in with the support crew and head down out of the clag.

Main ridge south west from Bannister - now you don't see it ...

Now you do

My spur down slowly emerging 

Pretty soon I have unimpeded views of Cattle Ridge in the sun and Bannister Basin down to my right. There was a Forest Service hut in there once, but I can't see any indication where. The 1979 maps show it near the stream, a ways down the basin, but not subsequent editions. I haven't seen a map with a route marked to it.

There's a reasonable ground trail on the spur, mostly deer by the look of it, but if you keep your eyes open it gives a good route through the tussock and patches of low scrub. There's a couple of spots on the way down where you might veer onto a side spur in clag but nothing a compass wouldn't prevent.

Down my spur - planned spur up Cattle Ridge ahead

Before long I'm looking down to my spot - just above the junction of the Ruamahanga and a sizable stream from the catchments to my right.

At last a clear view to the final spot

A bit over 1000m there's a band of scrub I have to do battle with but I may have just missed the trail - it wouldn't be much fun coming up. I realise I have lost my favourite cap somewhere on the way through, but going back is really not an option.

The spur flattens with some clear areas and low knobs. Someone has set up a trail camera pointing at a wallow. Of course I stop and give it a wave. There's also a box with an antenna and a rain gauge - I'm hardly the first here.

At 1053 I'm at pt 953. There's sun breaking through and I'm even thinking about shedding a layer. It's pleasing to know that this is not just another hard to reach spot, but the last of the hard to reach spots I have set myself. There's the satisfaction that I guess every hut bagger and stamp collector gets from finishing their particular collection - but I'm not really of a mind to savour it right now. So far this trip has been about assessing risks and margins - and now I'm contemplating the climb out and where I'll have to bivvy down if I'm too knackered to make the road end tonight. I do manage a little self-satisfied bask as I sit and munch on fruit bread and camembert.

Above, Cattle Ridge, Bannister Ridge and the Main Range circle the horizon. From down here it's fair to call them ramparts.




Last one



None to go!

A hint of a trail along the spur has disappeared, and I'm looking for a way through the scrub and down to the river junction. It's pretty horrendous - there's no indication people or animals have come this way. It's steep and the vegetation starts as close scrub then becomes forest with dense, rotting branches and black slippery humus. I have to zigzag to avoid frequent drops and hang off trees and handfuls of ferns to negotiate the unavoidable ones. The sound of the rivers gets louder.

A patch of mountain cabbage trees near the bottom would normally have got my attention but I am far more intent on whether my next foot hold is going to crumble, leaving me relying on a spindly coprosma.

With slightly shaky knees I scramble out to the waters edge almost an hour after celebrating success at 953.

Although the stream on my right isn't named, it is a respectable size. It joins the Ruamahanga and drops into the dim start of the upper gorge.

Despite the rain the water is reasonably clear and I top up - this may have to see me out.

Ruamahanga on right - unnamed stream on left - gorge ahead

Sun on the tops - not so much here

Scanning the other bank, I find a way to scramble on to the spur. I'd identified two options for this climb: from this junction, or from the next junction up the side stream. I chose the main junction, as I figured people are more likely to head for a landmark like this - particularly if they were aiming for the gorge or to head up the Ruamahanga.

I see no signs that people ever thought this way at all. It's a steep scramble for a start, a steep but reasonable section in forest, and then the scrub starts, lower than the map indicates. Every step up is a struggle; crawling through, under, over and around - unweaving tangled branches before trying to slide between, only to have a spike of dead leatherwood stop you dead as it stabs into your thigh.

Back to 953 and the spur from Bannister

The sun is shining now but I'm feeling completely drained. I've tried before but it is hard to describe how demoralising some scrub can be - just as you find space to stand, you're confronted by a waist high step up and a stubborn leatherwood - clambering over is the only option. It's a strain to lift a leg high enough then scramble for purchase on the slimy bark. The branches refuse to bend out of the way but snap suddenly just when your weight is committed. Forcing your way through, a totara branch flicks a face-full of spiky leaves, dislodging glasses. On the other side you're forced onto your stomach to squirm between gnarled stems with branches snaring your pack. And so it goes and goes.

The spur is steep and the map is telling me that I have another 100m of glacial progress - to my utter relief I struggle out and onto tussock at about 1020m.  This is about where the other option spur joins mine. I've stumbled onto an animal trail - no idea if it goes right to the bottom, but it looks like a better option than the way I came up.

There's plenty of game sign on this spur, I follow trails all the way to the top, albeit somewhat slowly. By the time the spur rounds gently onto the flat expanse of Pukekino I'm in clag again and the temperature has plummeted.

It's 2.50, I'm feeling wrung out and cold. I let the support crew know that I'm still alive and that I may biv down at Cow Saddle. After a snack I set the compass and set off into the gloom.

Although cold, it's not windy, so it's just a question of the occasional glance at the compass and rocking along trying not to notice the chafe. The clag just sits there.




Pukekino

A bit of unhindered walking along the mostly flat ridge puts me in a better frame of mind. However my text at 3.36 from the top of the track to Cow Saddle still only rates the probability of getting out tonight as 'an outside chance.'

The ground trail at the top of the spur is not that distinct and I'm starting to second guess myself. However, pretty soon there is more sign of human traffic and I relax a little - just concentrating on not slipping. I'm expecting to walk out of the bottom of the clag but it clings stubbornly to below the bushline.

There's a wee stream shortly after the bushline, which today has a respectable trickle - you can't rely on it in summer. Once in the bush I know it's about 300m down to the saddle and I'm thinking I will at least be able to start up the other side in the light.

Just before 5pm, I drop my pack in the saddle and study the map. I'm going for the road end now. It'll be long dark before then, so I just figure on getting up to the flat part of the spur above (800m) before cracking out the light.

The final push - last coms point at arrow

There's a wooden sign in the saddle, if you head back towards Cow Creek a very short way there's a tin sign on a tree - this marks where to look for a ground trail through saplings heading upwards. It gets steadily gloomier as I climb, but the trail is good and even when I wander off, I soon find my way back to it.

At around 820m I give up and get my torch out.  This is my new headlight and I discover how utterly ridiculously useless my old one was. I pretty much stick to the trail all the way up, with a few minor excursions. Although not a marked track it has had enough use over time that it is noticeably harder underfoot than the surrounding forest.

I can't really claim to be navigating now - I just have to keep going up until 970 metres and then worry about it - until then the trail marks the path of least resistance so I just concentrate on keeping to it.

The clag is thick in among the trees and the drifting droplets reflect the light.

When the trail finally tops out, I take a bearing southwest and follow whatever ground trail presents itself. It seems to take a long time to travel what is a very easy 400m section of ridge to the track. Finally the sign pointing to the Waingawa River appears reassuringly out of the dark. It's feels like much longer, but it has only been a bit over an hour and a quarter from the saddle - I might actually get out tonight.

Mentally I have the rest of the trip broken into five: a long flattish bit, a steep climby bit, a mucky sidle bit to the Blue Range Hut junction, a long steep down bit, then a lovely flat stroll out. I knuckle down to ticking these off.

At 7.30 I ring Brother Number One from the junction - 'any chance of a pick-up?' I'm mentally prepared to kip out in the road end shelter but somewhat relieved when, as always, he is most obliging. "8.30?"  "Nah, better make it 9 - it's wet and lethally slippery." 

Last time I came down here the Moreporks were starting their evening calls. Tonight they have well passed the initial flurry of 'good evenings', with just the occasional late call drifting across the hills.

The good headlight probably balances the extra time needed for careful foot work. Every root is just waiting to skate a foot sideways or tip your balance. I note three trees on the way down with metal collars - presumably to protect mistletoe from possums - I see what I think is a mistletoe in the beam of my light but can't get close enough to investigate.

At last the track bottoms out by a wee creek which marks where to cross and start the comfortable amble along the old tram way. I wobble along at my end of trip can't-go-any-faster pace, occasionally humming under my breath: "no more spots to go, no more spots to go ..."

At 0845 there's a near full moon but no cars at the road end. Perfect. I have just enough time to change into my hut clothes before sweeping headlights herald the arrival of Brother Number One, a flask of hot soup, and an end to this particular chapter.

Postscript

What's next? Don't know - might look at some bike trips, and the Kahurangis are calling ... certainly not chasing spot-heights anywhere else.

What does it feel like to finish something that has taken so much time and effort? Still working it out. I really don't recommend aspects of it - there are many spots which are buried in scrub or gorse which are basically a pointless and painless aggravation. What I do recommend is anything that gets you to explore new corners and spot heights certainly get you to do that.

A lot of people think you have to be a lunatic to go off track and solo in some of the remoter corners. I've thought about this a lot on my trips - they have a point and I reckon there are some ethical considerations you have to work through.

It is essentially a selfish act - for convenience, and my own preference I rarely go with a group. This has some unavoidable consequences, for example, a slightly higher risk of an incident, a more significantly higher risk of adverse outcomes from an incident (e.g. from lower ability to self manage), loss of socialisation of experience, role modelling higher risk practices, higher individual environment foot print (e.g. solo transport) ...

I don't think it washes to say that you knowingly take the risks on yourself. Someones will suffer emotional harm if you end up dead in a creek, and you can't opt out of SAR mounting an expensive search effort. So, in effect you are individualising the benefits and socialising the costs.

To me, this creates some moral obligation to share some of the benefits and to reduce the potential costs. For example; good planning including a detailed risk assessment (mitigate risks, identify contingencies), avoid dumb decisions, carry the right gear, carry a PLB (reduce search costs), explicit intentions (reduce search costs, piece of mind for family), use hut log books (search costs), carry a cell phone, give back (e.g. share experience through a club or online, go on pest control trips) ...

Enough of that. Given the momentous occasion, a few acknowledgements are in order:

• The support crew of course for foregoing having someone around most weekends (to paint the drains and whatever else you are supposed to do with an aging villa), and for drop off/pick ups at unfashionable hours in obscure locations
• Brother Number One and Janne for innumerable early drop offs and late pick ups, warm beds, hot dinners, and don't-shoot-me-vests
• Family members and anyone else that patiently wades through these rambling accounts and makes the mistake of politely expressing interest
• Those that would have turned out should I ever have pulled my PLB or missed my due time

Smiths Creek

A bit of a non-event this weekend. Some misbegotten cartographer placed a spot on a terrace on the other side of Smith's Creek from the track. A rotten weather forecast indicates the perfect time to knock this one off - and reduce the remaining tally to 18.

You reach Smith's Creek from the Kaitoke road end north of Upper Hutt - a traditional route into the Tararuas. It's the closest to Wellington,  giving good access to the hills. Generations of trampers have caught the Upper Hutt express and pooled funds for a taxi, or crammed into the club truck to be disgorged in the carpark late on a Friday afternoon.

The marked tracks take you either up Marchant Ridge towards the Southern Crossing, or over the Puffer Saddle to Smith's Creek and down to the Tauherenikau Valley.

I've whistled up and down that track many times but only noticed pt 270 when I took a serious look at the spot heights I haven't picked up yet. The good thing is that it will be a short trip on a good track with just a little bit of thrashing around off track.

What: Half day trip spot heighting
Where: Smith's Creek
When: 24 Feb 2019
Who: Solo
Map
　

The weather forecast is for heavy rain so I keep putting the trip off until 1pm on Sunday when the rain has really set in. That's also the time I remember that the car wipers are on the blink - I'll have to take the soft top.

The road end at Kaitoke is much improved now it's by the Kiwi Ranch gate. Back in the day, the rutted track and clay parking area up the hill was more like the tip face at Porirua landfill in the 1970s. The wee white car would not have coped at all well with it.

As it is, there's water running across the parking area. Unsurprisingly there are no other vehicles.

It's 2.45 when I trot through the rain into the bush. About half an hour later I'm at the saddle having managed not to fall over on the greasy wet yellow clay. There's a stream running down the track and I'm glad to have my walking poles (well, trotting poles).

The track sidles gently down for a long while before dropping more steeply to a creek. I check the map and trot down valley veering off track to follow the next sizable stream down to Smith's Creek. I meet it at the intended point and have to treat it with a little respect as it is considerably up (but nowhere near risky).

I find the next stream junction and take a bearing for spot height 270. It turns out to be on an old terrace which is sizable but covered in wind fall, so not really a camping spot. I thrash around for a while but there are no obvious knobs so eventually accept that I've crossed it and head back and across the creek.

With an uncanny knack I have chosen an area of regrowth and dense undergrowth where the track has sidled a little way up the hill - it takes a while to grovel back onto it and I'm missing my tramping boots by the time I get there. Running shoes don't really cut it in this stuff.

The rain has eased by before I clear the saddle and start jogging back to the car. The trotting poles are really useful on the slippery sections but occasionally catch the undergrowth and do their best to scuttle between my legs.

About 1hr 50 after leaving I'm peeling off sopping kit and chucking it in a rubbish bag in the boot. All done and just the drive home.

Mitre day trip

I realised the other day that I had never actually climbed the highest peak in the Tararuas.

This will appear barely credible given my unhealthy obsession with spot heights, but let me explain. For years I thought I had been over Mitre (1571) in the course of a northern crossing with some school mates. However, Richard maintains that we took a different route. Normally I would be the first to cast nasturtiums on the reliability of Richard's grey matter, but in the absence of any firm memories on my part I'm going to have to go with his notoriously tenuous grasp on reality.

I reckon I can knock it off in a day trip so I dust off the trail runners and plan a Sunday sortie.


What:   Day trip up Mitre
When:  Sunday 17 Feb 2019
Where: Tararuas - The Pines road end
Who:     Solo
Map

There's a few cars in the park as I leave the car and start trotting up the gravel road at about 7.15am. There's a nice new DOC shelter although not really designed to sleep in, it would provide protection from the elements whilst waiting for a pickup.

It's an overcast and mild morning and the first couple of Kms are along farm roads so I can trot along. After that there's a foot trail which leads to the bush edge. From there it is the ubiquitous Tararua sidle track. Up and down and in and out of wee creeks and spurs with the river somewhere below.

There's nothing to report of the trip in apart from a brief sortie off the track due to inattention. A bit under 1hr 40 later I arrive at Mitre Flats Hut.

Waingawa swing bridge South Mitre Stream opposite

A couple from Wellington are in residence and having a leisurely morning - they are tenting with their dog for a couple of days and doing local day trips. I fill in the log (checking to see if my previous entries are still there - they are), top up my water and head for the track up the hill.

Mitre Flats

I'm not fit enough to run 1200m up a mountain so just try to keep a steady pace. Just on the bushline I catch up with a couple from Masterton who have full weekend packs and are heading through to Tarn Ridge or Dorset huts. We have a good yarn about this and that - they are spending their holidays at home this year and picking up some local tramps.

I head on up as clouds start to gather around the ridge.

On the way up - looking back down the Waingawa valley

Starting to clag in

At 1045 I'm at the top - it's cooled down, there's a little breeze and the clag has come in. As I sit and have a bite to eat there's a few spots of rain. I drag my jacket on send a few texts in recognition of the momentous occasion. With no view and my body temperature starting to drop I turn for the long trot out.

Not much of a view

The second couple are nearing the top and I stop to chat again. I suspect they are slightly demoralised by our relative rates of travel - but you can hardly expect to compare someone in running shoes and day pack with full tramping kit. We are all kitted up now and although not really raining the clag is so soggy that the ground and tussock is getting quite damp.

The visibility is reduced enough that I'm wary of wandering off the side of the spur. The trail is mostly pretty easy to follow with the odd cairn, but in a couple of spots I have to cast around a bit - no recourse to the map and compass needed though.

Back in the bush a few spots of rain start coming through and continue pretty much all the way down.

Part way down I bump into couple number one who have decided to totter up the hill avec chien. I disabuse them of any hope off a view and leave them to it. An hour 22 after arriving at the top I reach the flats and pop back to the hut. Not sure how long I spent at the top but probably 15-20 minutes.

I note my exit in the log and start heading out. 

The swing bridge is a couple of minutes from the hut and (as I always do) I pause to look at the slip that I spent an uncomfortable night on during a Boys Brigade trip so long ago.

Slip just down stream of the hut - not recommended for camping

The trip out is as uneventful as the trip in apart from having to give way to a party of five coming in. It's about an hour 10 from the bridge to the park boundary, then another 24 minutes to the car.




I note a bunch of markers about 15 minutes from the boundary that could indicate a track up onto Blue Range. I dropped off the range in the dark a bit further back up the track from here after a bit of an epic day trip sometime back. The markers could be something interesting (for someone else) to investigate.

Park boundary

The rain doesn't seem to have got out of the foot hills and the road is dry as I trot back to the car. It's just on 2pm - making the whole trip 6hr 45.

Postscript

Another one down and 19 to go.

I haven't done any jogging recently so was happy that I could keep a reasonable albeit not competitive pace throughout. I have no idea about distance although I think I saw a sign that said 8km to the hut so, allowing say 4km to the top that would be about 24km all up. A good wee day trip.

Peak

There's still a few spot-heights I need to see to around the Mangahao dams. One of these is the somewhat tersely named 'Peak.'  I had to abort a previous attempt and the idea is to polish it, plus a few other randoms off on a weekend that is promising to be a bit miserable.

The Olde Beach Bakery in Waikanae supplies an excellent scone and pain au raisin that keeps me happy for the rest of the drive to Shannon.  Leaving the plains, the gravel road over the ridge rapidly disappears into thick cloud requiring cautious driving. 

The first three spot-heights for the day are close to the road between reservoirs two and three. After that I'll be heading for Peak and, if all goes well, may find a camp site and have a nosy around Te Araroa trail tomorrow.


What:     Navigation day trip bush bash
Where:   Mangahao - Peak
When:    16 June 2018
Who:      Solo
Map:

A few random spots to get things started

The forest park boundary is a bit of a weird shape and it takes in a few spot-heights that are pretty pointless really. However, I park the car and wander along a 4WD track to pt 409 (about 8am). There's a survey point with recent tyre prints indicating it's still used for something. No view today but on a clear day you might be looking over reservoir 3 and could follow the track down to the water.

Pt 409

The next spot is off the side off a nondescript bend on a windy section of road in unremarkable bush. It takes a bit to find the right bend and there's no track but it's pretty straight forward.

The final starter (590) is on the ridge above reservoir 2. A 4WD track leads up from the corner to a power line then it's a question of following your nose to the high point. It's all in tall forest and despite one piece of pink tape there is no real sign of people. Tick the box and head back to the car.

The main event sees me parking at reservoir 2 again a bit before 10am. The reservoir is spilling over one half of the top of the dam - even higher than last time and the Mangahao is looking definitely river like.

A couple and dog come out of the bush as I wander across the dam. They've just been in a short way and must be local as it's a long way to go to take Rover for a walk.

I duck into the bush, crossing an old terrace and bricks before bashing up the steep side of the spur. I'm hopeful that as this is a strong spur and an obvious way to head up to Peak it might have a good trail.

Peak - blue line is a previous trip

It's a slippery climb during which I come across plastic cups tacked to trees - they probably once held possum lure as there are one or two old leg hold traps left behind.

On the spur there is indeed a nice wee trail and white and pink tape markers. The canopy is high and life is good.

I lose the trail before the scrub starts below 797 - no idea where it wandered off to as there is no sign of it from there on up. There's an initial scrubby knob and then another one and very little visibility. I follow the compass and try to find an easy way through. No sign of human tracks but animal sign aplenty.

There's a bit of bush but soon after the climb up to 866 it's pretty much scrub. It's slow and the cloud holds in tight. As I get higher it gets steadily colder. It seems to take a very long time to get from 866 to Peak at 890 at 12.50 - about 2 hours from the bottom.

It's very nice to get there but I can't see much sign that anyone comes up from any direction and the view leaves a little to be desired. 

Peak

or 890

It's wet with a cold wind rising so I don't hang about. Hopes that the spur down is well traveled are soon dashed. It's mixed scrub and still clagged in. At one point I manage to describe a circle trying to find where the spur branches. The canopy starts lifting after this so at least the going is easier.

It's quite complex navigation with the face of the spur often weakly defined. I'm planning to duck off the side of the spur to drop west to a stream - in the event I just miss the top of the steep side spur but there is a patch of rock in a gully that provides enough view to get back on line. From there it is steep but straightforward.

A brief view

Joining the stream I slip my way down valley to join the track by the Mangahao River (it really is past time to get boots with some tread). It's easy travel with few scrambles. Towards the bottom there are some old red tape markers, I assume marking some old possum line or other pest control activities.

By the time I get back to the dam (3.45pm) and thawed out somewhat, I'm saturated and my appetite for heading for Te Araroa trail and mopping up a few more spot-heights before finding a soggy campsite is strangely lacking.

Wet gear stashed in rubbish bags in the boot, I head for home - a warm bath, cold beer, undehydrated dinner, and a dry bed.  Seven spot heights knocked off for the day which is not so bad - and the day pretty much confirms that the scrub in this neck of the woods is often best avoided.

My advice is that if you must climb Peak - pick a nice day and don't come through the saddle in the southeast.  You could follow the spur I took, but expect a bit of work to get through the scrub - I think one of the two branches of the spur from the north is probably better though. Hopefully you'll get better views than I did.

Ngamaia

The Inuit probably don't have 50 different words for snow but there is a case to be made for more words describing scrub. The northern Tararuas are teaching me that the word is sadly inadequate to encapsulate the world of painful variety that hides behind those five letters.

This weekend I am tackling the area south and east of the Mangahao dams from the Wairarapa side. There's an unusually long ridge that runs north east from above the Putara road end - it is flanked on the east by the farmland behind Eketehuna and on the west by Ngapuketurua Stream. The long finger points to the spot where the Mangahao River leaves the hills. Someone has scattered spot heights all over it and I suspect it has 270 different varieties of scrub.

I'm planning to explore the southern end of the ridge and to drop over in the Ngapuketurua catchment.

What:      Navigation and spot-heighting trip

When:     9-10 June 2018

Where:    Behind Eketahuna

Who:       Solo

Map:

The whole trip

Start and finish

Middle bits

Despite getting up at 5am it's already daylight when I park at the Putara road end and head out a little before 0800. My route today is not along the track towards Roaring Stag but a circuitous path to an old track, part of which I've explored previously.

The old 4WD track into the bush passes a couple of shipping containers converted for a sleep out. The track follows the map but continues further than marked. At one point a deer trots away ahead.

The road runs out and I follow game trails up through high scrub into forest then into a clearing on a spur at about 600m. This gives views across farmland and up to tops that are flirting with low cloud.

From here there's pretty good forest, a strong ground trail and eventually an old marker - this seems to be the route of the old track. Around 740m the spur flattens and there is a couple of old ribbons that mark a turn off to the spurs I followed last time (eventually to the flats below Ruapae Falls). Although I cast about a bit when I came through it should really be easy to spot on the way down - the track goes past a puddle (to your right) then the turn is on the right just before the track rises up a wee knob. If you go past, the track soon starts dropping.

There's a turn on the right here (facing down spur)

But first, pass a puddle on your right

I potter on up through mixed bush with plenty of cedar. I've already figured that I am now repeating effort that I could have avoided (i.e. a complicated scramble up from Ruapae Falls to pick up spot-height 820, which I now wander past).

The track is pretty good - someone has been through trimming branches with a handsaw. Months ago rather than years by the look of it. The occasional break in the canopy gives a view to sunlight on the eroding north face of the Herepai ridge to the south - and the clag that is now hiding the tops.

Ridge to Herepai

I have half an eye out for the site of the old PUtara hut that burnt down (1977). The accounts all mention tensions with the land owner and in the next breath that the hut mysteriously burnt down - the implication being: 'we know the toe rag did it but there's no proof.'

Some cut branches off to the right of the track catch my eye and I follow to a small clearing off the side of the spur. Some blackened stumps, an old fire place and a sign indicate that this was the spot (0950).

Putara hut site 

'Trees are shelter, do not cut this side of the hut'

980m altitude

By the time I break out of the bush the clag is thick around the spur and visibility is about 50m. The temperature has decreased, in contrast to the wind which is increasing.

At the ridge (1025) there's a reflective marker on a cairn making the top of the spur easy to find.

For the next few hours I battle the wind along the top pausing every few minutes to wipe the mist off my glasses. The wind increases from firm, to boisterous and then to down right obstreperous. There's a bit of moisture in the wind although not rain as such. It's slow going what with the buffeting wind pushing me about and the need for frequent pauses for navigation.

The ridge wanders north past Massey Knob, 1030 and 970. Nothing dramatic but in the clag navigation is challenging. There's a ground trail but it is easy to wander off into low scrub. It gets colder and windier.

I know I've gone past Ngamaia but in the clag can find no indication of the top of the spur I aim to take to drop east. The ridge top is broad and shelves gently - I can see nothing that indicates a route. A false start doesn't flatten where it should and I have to struggle back up through scrub to the top - demoralising. The clag resolutely refuses to thin for even the briefest moment.

It's hard to keep your chin up - cold and wet, no view, scrub, hard to keep your feet ... I'm starting to get really fed up. However, on your own in these conditions there is no choice but to find the way forward or a safe bail route. I'm not quite ready to pull the plug yet I head back for a known point in order to follow the compass and watch.

The clag thins for a second and I find a knob with a cairn to the east of the ridge (not what I want but noted for later). It gives me a fix and I time myself north again for 15 minutes before striking east off the ridge. This time a wide spur top gradually appears from the mist.

There's still a bit of a ground trail but easier to lose. I have another bit of a moment finding the next branch off the spur - eventually breaking through a band of scrub and once again finding the way down.

This time as I drop, the cloud starts breaking ahead to show sunlight on farmland. It's a bit surreal to be in scrubland looking down at a scene of such green pastoral order. It's after 1500 now so I've wasted a fair amount of time staggering about looking for spurs. The plans for the rest of the day are amended accordingly.

At last a view east

There's a bit of choice on the way down so I stick to the open areas (not always the best policy) then drop into forest to a small stream and a short climb to where the ridge north continues. Here there are briefly markers along a definite (but not strong) track - it looks like there may have been a route down to 509 (...maybe).

I most definitely do not recommend popping up to pt 708. The scrub is low and tight - too tight to push through but not firm enough to climb over. Daylight wanes as I inch painfully upwards. Long story short - near the top I can hang off the east of the ridge under a higher canopy - at pt 708 I mentally put a tick in the box and bash over the top and down through scrub to reach the forest on the west slope. I drop rapidly looking for somewhere flat to camp.

Home sweet ...

By the time the fly is up it's pitch black. The wind is whipping through the tree tops but it's pretty calm on the forest floor - still, I find a completely sheltered nook by a wee creek to boil the billy. Dinner is eaten in pit before lights out by 7. The wind keeps it up most of the night but it's a good sleep and no rain.

In the morning I can't be bothered firing up the stove so munch on some fruit bread. It takes a while for light to filter through the trees so it's 0745 before I get away.

Morning light

The first order of business is to work out where I am. It turns out it's not quite where I thought but it's reasonably quickly sorted. I start working may way onto the spur I want and along to spot-height 625. The day is looking not too bad and I get some views across to the ridge I aim to be climbing soon.

Spur running from 597 (on right) to 815

There's a bit of ground trail and even the odd bit of old tape. On the way down, rather than follow the steep spur through forest I see a break and drop into an erosion chute high above a stream, with a water fall in a slot. The sound drifts up as I scramble down. It's tricky footing but nice to be in the open (0830).

The stream sides are too steep to bother contemplating so I work along the slope and find a way down near where the streams join at the base of the spur.

From here it's pleasant stream travel for half an hour to the junction with Ngapuketurua Stream. There's a couple of points requiring a mid thigh wade.

Junction between my unnamed stream and Puketurua Stream

Ngapuketurua Stream turns out to be quite sizable in a nice open valley. I'm quite looking forward to exploring it further at some point, but today I'll be leaving it straight away to head up to the tops again. For now though it's a pleasant spot to regroup, study the map, and enjoy the absence of wind and a slice of sun.

The spur looks like an obvious route up so I'm hoping for a ground trail. A terrace at the base has some hunters' rubbish but once on the spur there is no real sign of human traffic. It's a steep climb.

At 0945 I reach pt 597 and the going starts to get mixed. Wind has cut the odd swathe across the ridge and, as usual in this part of the Tararuas patches of scrub start turning up at quite a low altitude.

Scrub - for a change

A bit higher and I can imagine there is a path of less resistance in places, but judging by the way it comes and goes it's mostly animal I think. After yesterday I'm really appreciating the absence of clag - the wind is boisterous and I've got a balaclava on though.

Looking east - pt 708 is in there somewhere if you know where to look 

Up spur - probably from pt 815 or thereabouts

On the way up I rejoin my route from yesterday, without clag it's a completely different experience -  I'm not surprised at the navigational difficulties. The wrong spur from yesterday is clearly a ridiculous proposition.

Just short of the main ridge - looking south at the wrong spur from yesterday

The spur snaking down and to the left

There's a band of low scrub to navigate to get onto the ridge. Once there, its broad featureless top gives no indications for someone in clag to find the spur. On closer inspection though there's a few lichen covered rocks that could once have been a wee cairn, but more usefully, a small tarn (1155).

Subtle signs of the spur top

South west towards the real tops

There's a few options for getting back to the road end. I opt for what looks the most direct. Yesterday whilst stumbling around in the clag I thought I saw a cairn on a knob near Ngamaia and figure it probably marks a way down.

The start is very promising (1210) - the spur points directly at the wee patch of farmland by the road end far below. There seems to be a bit of a trail down through the tussock but as soon as the scrub starts it disappears and the going gets tough.

Putara road end's down there

Southish towards Herepai Ridge - spur up from yesterday in between

Eventually the scrub is behind and game trails provide quick progress down. However, the scrub has taken it's toll - somewhere in the struggle my map has fallen from my pocket. This is the second time this has happened - first time I was trialing wearing a bike top and it fell out of the back pocket, this time it was in the breast pocket I always keep it in.

I rely heavily on printed maps so it's weird to be on an unfamiliar and untracked spur without one, however, there's no way I'm going back for it. Plan A is to keep going down and aim to drop right into streams that I know will lead to Ngamaia Stream. Then I remember my cell phone - it takes a few seconds to load a topo map page and everything is sorted.

I drop south and angle down the east side of a stream. At the bottom there's some beautiful punga forest and a terrace above Ngamaia Stream. This is the edge of the farm land.

The going is easy now, across pasture and through open scrub. A deer heads for deep cover when it sees me but otherwise there's nothing about. I follow the stream and the odd farm track until joining and crossing the Mangatainoka river for a short scramble up to the road. A brief trudge along the dusty road later I'm back at the car (2.30).

Postscript

Nine spot-heights down for the weekend but it looks like I might have missed one in the clag (curses). My Underarmour tights are doing service as scrub trousers and as a result are starting to show significant amounts of skin - an expensive (but light and warm) option. After this trip, legs from gators to groin ended up covered in bruises and scratches - time to get some proper trousers I think. I also managed to swipe a totara branch across one eye which is still blurry over a week later. Travel can be tough in these parts.