Based on the map I reckon I can pick up a couple off the side of the Ngapuketurua ridge and three more heading down to the valley floor via a spur I know is not often traveled. All going well this will see me in the Mangahao Hut for the night. The next day a large loop up towards the main range above the hut will explore two large spurs that may have old routes up to the tops (knocking off four spots on the way). Finally, if either day goes better than expected there are another couple of spots on the ridge to the east of the river.
So, somewhere between 9 and 11 spots and a chunk of new territory.
What: Navigation trip and spot heighting
Where: Ngapuketurua - Mangahao
When: 29-30 September 2018
Who: Solo
Map:
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| The weekend route |
The trip has an inauspicious start - the Waikanae beach bakery isn't open. Mildly out of sorts I continue to Shannon.
The drive is very familiar now ... long gravel road ... park by the dam - this time the top one. I'm away by 7.50am under low cloud.
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| Feel obliged to take this shot - sometimes it works ok |
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| Up reservoir to the foot of Island Ridge |
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| Lots of water spilling today |
Half an hour later I'm at Baber forks and it's time to depart the marked route. Most people head up College Creek towards Burn Hut - the more adventurous head straight ahead up the spur and the old Ngapuketurua track for the ridge. I take the true left branch and follow Baber Creek into tiger country.
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| Baber Forks |
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I expect it to be a bit gorgy but it's easy going up the creek. There's been rain so the rocks are slippery but the water is only a little up. I'm looking for the first sizable stream entering from my left (true right). It turns out to be unmistakable; about 25 minutes from the forks.
I'm slightly reluctant to leave Baber Stream as the catchment looks interesting and I don't think I will be back. However, there are spot heights above that require attention.
At this point I can take to the bush and climb the spur, but I'm sort of liking the stream travel today so follow the side stream up to the next marked junction - it takes about 40 minutes. A short way up the true left branch I climb onto the spur aiming for what looks like easy access to a wee saddle.
And that's probably the last thing that goes as expected for the day.
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| Second junction - but it could be anywhere really |
On the spur the forest pretty quickly turns into scrub which, although providing some views when the clag momentarily lifts, shows little sign of being much traveled.
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| Looking back to the dam |
At the top the familiar (unmarked) ridge track is starting to get overgrown and is sometimes easy to miss in the the tussocks. It still provides an easier route through the leatherwood if you keep your eyes peeled though. I'm pretty much at the cloud ceiling so visibility comes and goes.
12.10 and I'm standing at Ngapuketurua for the third time. The view is very similar to last time.
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| Ngapuketurua |
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| Visibility .... |
Last time through I failed to find the top of the spur I'm aiming for and ran out of time. This time I figure I know where I went wrong. I get near the right spot and the clag clears slightly - the good news is I'm on target, the bad news is that the target looks less than inviting.
It's a tough bash down through dense, old leatherwood. The top section is steep and I see no evidence of any route. It's apparent that the original plan of bagging spot 900 and returning to the ridge is not a goer. I consult the map and devise an escape route involving dropping to a stream and sidling due west to a saddle I have visited previously.
Out of the scrub and with the cloud lifting it's a different day. It's a steep clamber down to the stream arriving at 2.10pm - care is needed in the bed but nothing out of the ordinary.
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| Unnamed stream below pt 900 pt 870 on Island Ridge in the distance |
A little above the junction, I cut across the spur to the next stream (startling a couple of deer in the process - I imagine even hunters would be rare up here). This is where the sidle starts.
I'm always a bit leary about sidles - the theory may be good but they generally take a lot longer than expected as there is an awful lot of terrain and vegetation variation that doesn't feature on the map.
Eventually I get to the saddle and cross the route I took last time through. I have a choice of following that route back to the ridge through a healthy band of scrub then scrub bashing south west along the ridge to the next spot, or (optimism bias alert) continuing the sidle through more open bush to pop up through the scrub near the next spot height.
I continue the sidle but overestimate my rate of progress. As a result I can't tally the glimpses of surrounding hills with what my compass is telling me. In the end, conscious of daylight I head up to the ridge as the only way to completely confirm location. As soon as there is better visibility my heart sinks - I've rejoined the spur to 959. Lesson 1 - sidles take longer than you think, lesson 2 - sometimes you need to make sure you have traversed enough terrain before you can be sure your compass bearing isn't just reflecting a small local variation (this particularly applies to streams).
At 959 I turn southwest down the ridge and start a long battle with the scrub. The route has been traveled before (I find an abandoned water bottle), but infrequently and not enough to form any useful trail. It's getting into evening now and although I make pt 851, darkness catches up as I descend into the bush.
Under torchlight I follow the compass and the terrain as best I can and - probably more by good luck than anything, make it to the saddle before the next two spot heights. Taking another bearing I make the short climb to the next spot and head along the flat top until it runs out - at which point I know I've passed the last spot for the day. There may have been a bit of trail here but just about impossible to follow in the dark.
Around about now I give up any pretense of having a clue where I am. The path of least resistance takes me down the hillside (with a slight right bias in order to reach the riverside track rather than Harris Stream).
This is the point where you could curl up in a ball in your bivvy bag and spend a mildly uncomfortable night out, but I'm not about to chuck it in yet. I scramble down until the slope eases, a couple of old tape markers indicate something but no discernible track - than some old corrugated iron, a patch of bushlawyer and finally the track.
It's the familiar plod mode now - I'm feeling every inch of the battle through scrub the day has entailed and rising nausea. The track is relatively easy to follow by torchlight although the odd treefall and some points on the slip bypass track have me casting about.
At 10:50 I clomp wearily onto the veranda of the empty hut. I'm not really fit enough for 15 hour days like that. With dry clothes on I manage to force a bit of dinner down before crawling into pit. As tired limbs relax into quivering jelly plans A and B start formulating for tomorrow.
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| Saturday - the long way 'round |
It's light when I wake. A good sign - I've slept well. Then comes the roll call - neurons explore the signals being fired in from stirring limbs. Result: tired but not broken - plan A is go.
Plan A is to climb the spur above the hut returning further down valley via another spur. Simple. It's a leisurely 9.05am that I pick up my still soaking pack and wander behind the hut to start climbing.
As expected it's easy travel through mature bush. There is surprisingly little trail for a major spur behind a hut.
The canopy lowers, then the scrub starts appearing around 800m - the going gets tough. A little higher the scrub opens and there are animal trails (and just possibly some human) and eventually more open tussock dominated terrain.
Like yesterday, t's cold on the tops with low visibility. The occasional showers are icy and I'm wearing everything accept my hut clothes. I keep my eyes peeled for where my down spur peels off as I will be returning to that point.
It's getting less and less hospitable and there are occasional patches of snow. At 12.30 I reach the target knob (1250m) - slower than anticipated.
After the obligatory selfie I turn tail. Shortly after successfully finding the spur down I drop below the cloud. The tussock and low scrub is ok at the start but inevitably the scrub gets higher and the going gets harder - any hope that there might be a worn route quickly evaporate.
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| Starting to clear |
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| Clear enough |
On the map the spur looks like a sitter for an old route to the tops. If it ever was, the trail has long since faded meaning 2 odd kilometres of scrub travel.
The battle down to spot height 830m is long - the canopy then starts to lift and I can scoot along underneath more easily. But navigation get's more tricky. I drift off line and by the time I detect it I am faced with the choice of climbing back or a long messy sidle. I try this for a bit and after some tricky waterfall gullies decide that I've had enough of that for this weekend. The third option wins - follow a creek to the track and climb to the last spot from the foot of the spur. .
The fatigue and nausea from yesterday are back. I'm not about to leave the next spot though so I drop my pack and scramble up and back.
Back on the track the sums tell me it will be dark before I get out . I make sure the head torch is handy and set off down valley. I force down some scroggin and water but it's not until my brain catches up and I start nibbling on a bumper slice that I get the much needed lift and nausea recedes (hurrah for sugar).
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| Sunday - the long way 'round |
The support crew will be calling SAR if I'm not out by 10pm but I figure I have a comfortable margin.
Darkness catches up soon after the swing bridge over the Mangahao river. As usual I keep going as long as possible without a light - balancing the risk of tripping with the usefulness of peripheral vision for track finding. Under torchlight the world narrows to the familiar beam ahead showing pale trunks and the dark tunnel of the path.
The night is mild and as the food kicks in the nausea disappears. The track hits the flats and there are a few moments where I have to cast around to find it. Eventually the trees on the right give way to a sense of darkness and distance. The lake might be visible in daylight. From here the water is never far away - mostly apparent from the outraged squawks of the odd duck taking offence and flight at my presence.
Finally, the fence on the dam looms out of the dark and at 8.35pm I'm digging out the car keys. Well within the SAR margin but I do need to get down the road to cell phone reception.
In retrospect I should probably have remembered about daylight saving. The text went out at 9.15pm, somewhat closer to the time than anticipated. (Note that the instructions are to inform SARS that a well equipped tramper is late, and not to activate a search - so this is not quite so flagrantly irresponsible as it might first appear).
Postscript
Driving down the road I realise my wright wrist is in a pretty poor shape. I can't remember a specific incident but it takes over a week to recover. I don't think a bone was broken but it certainly felt like it.The warts and all descriptions above may give the impression that the experience was miserable. The challenge of navigating at night and through seemingly impenetrable scrub is perhaps more enjoyable in retrospect than in the moment, but if it were truly miserable I wouldn't be back for more.
As well as the body, the scrub was pretty rough on kit. There are holes in the new scrub trousers, more bits ripped off the gaiters and the mesh pockets on the pack are shredded.
And what about the unfinished business? There's still a few spots to visit up the Mangahao valley but the weekend has put a serious dent in them with nine knocked off.
