Saturday 18 May 2019

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

Saturday 4 May 2019

One Kelleher weekend

With the remaining forest park spot heights now countable on one hand, the object of this weekend's exertions is hardly surprising.

I have two in my sights. Kelleher is a knob just beside the Main Range Track which I have passed, but never deviated onto the actual knob.  By my rules I can't count it because it is separated from the track by at least a contour line.  The other spot is south west of Kelleher - pt 870 is awkwardly perched on a spur halfway up (or down) the side of the Mid Otaki Valley.

The next problem is how to get to them in as interesting way as possible (in a weekend). I reluctantly decide that it will have to be Poads Road and the Te Araroa Track to Waiopehu Hut, from there I can leave the marked track and head along Oriwa Ridge to Oriwa before taking an interesting looking spur to the Mid Otaki River. This puts me at the bottom of the main spur for the long haul up to Kelleher. The Main Range Track then gives access to the top of the spur to pt 870 and back down to the river, which I'll follow down to the Waitewaewae forks.

I'm quite pleased with the route out that I've devised - it's as near as damn it a straight line from the Waitewaewae River to Mick then out via the Waitohu Stream - pleasingly aesthetic.

With daylight hours now somewhat curtailed it's going to be a challenge to get through and out by end of Sunday. So, a Friday night torchlight trip to Waiopehu Hut is in order.


What:     Navigation trip to a couple of spot heights
When:    3-5 May 2019
Where:   Waiopehu to Waitohu via Kelleher
Who:       Solo
Maps


In the scheme of things ...


Most of Saturday

Sunday

We almost beat the Friday night traffic up the Coast by leaving at 3.30. A quick stop in Otaki, for supplies and not so great burgers, then out to Poads Road.



At 6pm the sun has set and it's dead calm as I wave good-bye to the support crew. Headlight on, I head across the farmland, prompting startled honking from the odd paradise duck. The beam is a bit marginal (possibly something to do with leaving it in a damp raincoat at some point) but just enough.

As I start the slippery climb, the last of the evening light creates odd patches of texture in my peripheral vision. Moreporks start calling up valley and a goods train's rumble vibrates the air. Although coolish, it's still so I soon have a bit of sweat up.

I'm waiting to see the signpost where the 6 discs track heads left looming in my headlight - this will mark where the ridge levels for a longer more gentle climb. I haven't seen it when the track starts doing odd things. I'm still following orange triangles but the quality has deteriorated and there are no longer little reflective stickers. There's windfall and things get somewhat confused.

I know it's the wrong track but despite back tracking and casting about, can't find where I joined it. I sit down in the dark to sort things out; eventually setting a bearing and heading off in a hopefully sensible direction. Soon I see a reflective gleam and all is good again.

Not much else to say really, there's no moon but plenty of stars and I'm regretting the last few beers I had on Thursday night.  This may go some way to explaining why I have guzzled all my water and am completely parched by the time I reach the hut at 10.20pm.

Empty. I quickly settle down, only to be disturbed briefly by a possum or two thundering around on the deck. Popping out to send them on their way, I'm treated to the fairy lights of the towns strung across the black Manawatu Plains, shimmering with the distance.

I'm not in a hurry in the morning, so it's after 7 before I emerge to find I've missed dawn.  The sun is peeping between cloud banks and morning mist forms milky pools in the valleys. There's a cloud ceiling at around 1300m which looks settled so hopefully a cool day is in store.


Late dawn




Around 8.10am I'm heading up the track behind the hut. Where it tops out on Waiopehu there's a bit of a  foot trail that diverges right. I follow this down beside the scrub on the ridge until it eventually slips into a channel through the leather wood. There are intermittent pieces of orange tape which are easily lost when the ridge top widens but no hardship to just follow the compass.


South from Waiopehu to Oriwa - pt 1024 to left

Just before the top of Oriwa there's a clearing (marked on the map - 9.40am). A cup hanging on a tree marks where to veer left to reach a wee roof and water barrel. Across the clearing there's a large flat space in the trees where hunters camp (and leave their rubbish).



The water supply


Camping spot by Oriwa Clearing

I have never quite found the ideal way past the clearing - always managing to end up in bog, leatherwood or, today, an unpleasant combination of both. At 10am I'm at the top of Oriwa and texting the support crew to say that everything is on track.

Someone has left a pink ribbon to mark where the ridge continues from Oriwa - you can follow this all the way down to the Waitewaewae Forks - it used to be a track but I would classify it now as a classic 'off track' Tararua route.

My sights are set slightly closer to hand - the top of the spur I am after is reasonably clear and quickly confirmed with the altimeter (1050m).

There's a little bit of trail and it's good going, but there's a few points where attention to the compass pays off.  A more solid trail develops after I run into signs of DoC biosecurity activities.

It starts with blue triangles marking "Bird MO 22" and when I get to Bird MO 19 there's blue triangles leading off spur, a tracking tunnel and some sort of funnel for collecting falling stuff.










































It's satisfying to ride the spur all the way to it's end. Just after 11.20 I pop out beside Murray Creek and pause to work out my next steps.


Murray Creek - delicious

It's only at this point that I realise that I'm just up river from the Mid Otaki Hut (not marked on the map) - only 300m and a perfect spot for lunch. 10 minutes later I'm strolling onto the flats keeping a weather eye out for someone that might be inclined to mistake me for a deer.



Mid Otaki Hut





The hut is a cheerful little two person prefab on a large flat by the river. It has double doors and is clean and light inside.  It's not marked on the map as it's a DoC biosecurity hut and probably not permanent. There's no log book, which surprises me (Island Forks Hut has one).

I chew on an early lunch (Camembert and fruit bread) and study the map. Last time through I was picking up spot heights along the valley including the foot of my next spur - the spur shape is pretty messy but I'm picking that there will be biodiversity trails on the lower parts, and probably an old tramping/hunting trail to the top.

And so it proves - I head off around 1200 and scramble to pt 595. Soon after the Bird MO markers from this morning appear and the number keeps counting down as I climb (I think 10 is the last one I see on the way up). There's also a couple of old school track markers but no other marking.




Towards the top (1.45pm) I pop out on a couple of rocky outcrops that give views up and down the Otaki Valley and across to Oriwa Ridge.  I can trace my route down from this morning.



Looking down Otaki Valley

Once out of the bush the spur climbs over a series of knobs to the top of Kelleher and views across the Park Valley (2.05). The highest peaks disappear into the cloud ceiling that has persisted all day.


South from Kelleher ... I think


The track drops off Kelleher and into goblin forest where it undulates along, taking an irritating long time to get to Nichols. I bump into a possible Canadian who turns out to be a late season NOBO (north bound Te Araroa walker). He has taken a break picking fruit in Motueka and is just going to pick off the best bits of the North Island before winter. I'm pleased to have a break so chat for a while.

At last I break out of the bush for the last scramble up to Nichols. By now I've decided that I don't fancy bivvying out on the spur down to the valley or trying to navigate off track in the dark. The sight of Nichols Hut tucked below the ridge clinches it. There's reception so I break the news to the support crew that I will be later out tomorrow than expected and head down to the hut. At 3.45 it's somewhat early to be knocking off.



Nichols Hut from Nichols 
As usual for this hut, the logbook has complaints about no firewood and the woodbin has no logs.

Unusually for this hut, I can see down the Waiohine past High Ridge and (I think) the Wairarapa in the distance. The tops are still hidden above the grey ceiling, but I can see more of the surrounding ridges and spurs then I think I have ever seen from here.

The hut is under 10 degrees so I don't hang about admiring the view but get into clean warm clothes and sit in my sleeping bag reading everything in the hut until it's time to make dinner.




With the cloud starting to blow in from the north west it's dark early and I settle in for a good long sleep. Around 8pm lights loom on the ceiling - I peer out to see a glow on the ridge. This resolves into three head lights marching down through clag to the hut. The headlights are attached to three women who clump into the hut. They are doing the SK Tops and have decided they are too far off the pace so are pulling the plug (this is the third 'not quite' attempt I have come across this year). 

Despite having walked all day they are full of energy and talk - I hardly get a word in edge wise.  They are clearly super fit and experienced in the outdoors. They keep the talk up as they munch through cold dehy and discuss options for getting out of the ranges. That's one of the problems with the SK - when you get to the point of bailing, you usually have some tricky decisions about the quickest route out, how to get a pick up, and what to do about your car that is now in the wrong place.

They quickly decide to exit via Waitewaewae and whirl out of the hut again like a mini tornado - except that tornadoes are unlikely to be inclined to talk about the etiquette of peeing in pack rafts.

Their torches and voices fade up to the ridge and I return to my slumbers.

I've set the alarm before 6 so it's dark when I get up.  I take my time to breakfast, tidy and pack before reluctantly pulling on slightly damp gear. Outside it is getting light enough to reveal clag with intermittent drizzle. This is Nichols as I remember it.




I add a layer and pull on balaclava and coat before heading out at 7am. The wind is up but not strong enough to coat my right lens with moisture. I follow the foot prints up the ridge and over the series of knobs to the 1320m contour, where I figure the track will show a bend and a bearing will take me to my spur. I certainly won't be seeing it in this muck.

The shape of the slope is obscured and the wind pushes drizzle directly into my face as I potter (stagger?) down into the grey nothing. I drift onto a false spur once and by following the compass land directly on the spur as it starts to take shape.

There is no problematic scrub zone and it's a relief to slip from the clag into the calm between gnarly, mossy trunks. There's pretty good ground trail although I don't note any old markers. The spur is pretty good to follow - there's a couple of points that are apparent on the map where you want to check the compass but it's generally good.

I'm wandering along when something white catches my eye ahead. My first thought is something man-made, as I get closer I have a random thought it might be part of a plane.





Closer still and another item comes into view - now I'm thinking it could be part of a helicopter.




I cast around and a short distance away there is the remains of a plane fuselage mashed against a tree. Beside it on the forest floor is a mangled seat and bits of plane are scattered across a wide area. Any thought that someone could survive such a crash are dispelled by the catastrophic forces evident in the shredded and dispersed debris.

It looks newer than any others I've seen and I guess it might be a plane from the 1970s. Given the location I'm pretty confident it is well known, but I hadn't heard about it before (not that I've looked). A quick internet search afterwards reveals it crashed in 1982 with three people killed.




As always, these sites set you thinking. The wreckage marks a real human tragedy, often involving the sudden, violent deaths of quite young aircrew (particularly in the war era crashes). Despite this, there's a sense of disconnection - this involved no-one I know. At best you're really just a tourist - at worst a voyeur. And the remnants are inevitably blurring and dissolving as moss, corrosion and the weather gradually obliterate the evidence - even the most resistant materials are slowly disappearing into the forest. It's hardly surprising then, that (with a few exceptions) there seems to be a tendency for trampers to be respectful of these places and not to interfere with them.

I look around the area for a while before taking a note of the altitude (probably close to accurate) and heading on down the spur - passing a few final pieces of debris on the way.







At 8.45 I'm at my second and last spot height for the weekend. The fourth to last on my list. It's every bit as remarkable as many other spot heights. It's also the point where I deviate from the line of the spur to follow a side spur that will take me slightly further down valley.


Fourth to last - three to go

There's not much trail now but it is still pretty good going and I successfully navigate down to the flat top at 520m before a sharper drop to the junction I have targeted.  It's 9.40 so, although time is still tight, I'm happy enough with progress.

The periodic drizzle has kept the river boulders slippery so I'm careful as I potter down valley. It's quite pleasant until I stumble across the evidence of a successful but brainless hunter. Half a deer is sitting in the river shallows with choice cuts removed and guts spilling into the water. The other half is a few metres down stream. So, if you know someone who was hunting in this area, with a .223, who left a carcass like that - tell them they're a twat.




In the interests of seeing new territory I follow the river bed all the way to Waitewaewae Forks instead of diverting onto the terraces on the true left at the appropriate point. The river immediately starts forming pools and deep sections by the banks so I have to cross frequently and have a few mid-drift wades. It's slower going than expected but I am at the forks by 11.40 so stop for a bite and study the map.



Waitewaewae Otaki Forks

I reckon it will be about 20 minutes up stream with four side streams to reach my target spur. It's always hard to tell though - was that an unmarked trickle or a marked small stream? The last stream has been shifting a lot of stones so is quite distinctive and seems to make sense against the map. I top up water and start the climb.

I don't really think it is a used route but it's ok going. After about 200m the compass confirms I am on the right spur and I settle in for the grind.  There's quite a bit of windfall. I disturb a deer on the way up - so far I have only heard them and I haven't heard any roaring. I wonder if it is the weather or if their habits have changed with the end of the roar.

The slope eases quite a way from the top, and it takes a long time to finally roll onto the ridge. I can't see a trail, but know that there is one to be found, so take a bearing and turn north (1.55).

The travel is a bit mucky. The trail comes and goes, there is a lot of regrowth and windfall, and areas of leatherwood to negotiate or bypass. I drop down the east slope to try to avoid the worst.

Once the marked clearings start there is a channel cut through the scrub, which is somewhat overgrown but still navigable. It's still claggy and drizzly and I'm not in the best frame of mind - I'm overly conscious of the clock ticking and a little nervous about navigating the western slopes in the dark.  I haven't been able to get cell phone reception to confirm progress.

These are perfect conditions for a mistake - and I'd hate to disappoint. The word "Mick" on the map partly occludes a knob on my ridge - I climb this knob thinking it is Mick and take a bearing north. There's a bit of ground trail and although I am surprised at the lack of markers I bowl off down discounting the fact that the slope is a little greater than expected.

Getting suspicious, I check the altimeter - 794. This should have flattened at 830. Bugger.

I suspect I know what has happened, but the occasional gap in the trees gives no clues - just more clag. Back on the knob I find a trail and am soon on the way to Mick proper, where I find a quite well marked trail doing exactly what it should be doing. Things speed up but it's getting noticeably dimmer and there's a long way to go yet.

I'm thinking ahead - I want to keep a pace that will get me a good distance before dark. But as I drop the clag will lighten and as the sun sets it will light the western foothills.

Near pt 860 there's a wee plastic plane hanging on a tree, indicating where my trail heads down. I lose it at the top but am soon on the steeply dropping spur and generally finding my way. As predicted it starts to get lighter.

I give a nod to the site of the Ventura bomber crash on the way past but do not divert to visit the distinctive wing. Soon the path joins an old logging trail and things speed up again. Although dryer, it is still steep and slippery in places, so the best I can manage is a cautious jog at times.

At the bottom it's a bit dim but the track drops into a series of grassy clearings near a stream. It's not that well marked and I end up following the Waitohu Stream for a while before joining a wide platform that follows and crosses the stream a couple of times. It's pretty boggy in patches but generally quick going. I settle in for a few Ks before another couple of Ks on the access road.

Coming over a rise I see a silver car a few hundred meters away - it's the support crew. She's found her way past the quarry and to the end of the access road (bottom of the spur to 309). Apparently there's five gates but the signs are all about being careful, and don't prevent access.

I'm mightily relieved to be chucking sopping kit into rubbish bags at 5.30 and a K and a half earlier than expected.

Postscript

An eventful weekend. The Friday night walk in was more tiring than expected - I reckon this set me up for the truncated Saturday. Getting to Oriwa is somewhat familiar now - it's a good 'off track' route. I was pretty pleased with the choice of the spur down - keep an eye on the compass and the shape of the spur - the trail is better further down with lots of blue DoC triangles at various points.

Mid-Otaki hut - never stayed there but I quite like the spot.

The spur up to Kelleher is an old route - a bit of windfall and no real marking - could be kinda tricky on the way down as the spur shape is a bit messy. Interesting at the top with the rocky outcrops, views and series of knobs up to Kelleher.

The Main Range is the Main Range. And Nichols Hut is Nichols Hut - just in the right spot for when I was running out of steam. The night time visitors were a gas.

The spur to 870? Well, it had a plane crash - that was unexpected. Surprisingly navigable at the top - some annoying windfall but a useful route to the valley floor.

The river is the river and should be treated with respect. It's worth knowing where to find the old trail, on the true left, if the flow is up at all.

I didn't enjoy the route out quite so much. But it is worth getting around this area as it us a useful access way and there a quite a few little byways.

Spot-heights - two more down and three to go. I have the exact trip in mind for the remainder but that will, I hope, be a story for another (not too distant) day.