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

Ngawhakaraua

Ngawhakaraua - if you pronounce it even half way correctly it has a certain rhythm to it. There used to be a settlement of that name on the Manawatu River but I have no idea how the name came to be associated with a scrubby knob in the north eastern Tararuas.

Last week I found my way to the mysterious Miro Valley Hut and slightly less mysterious Mangahao Biv. This week I want to explore the ridge system to the south west.

A series of gnarly spurs drop south to the Mangahao River - with recent rain the river won't be an option for travel. There's two named 'peaks' on the ridge - Ngawhakaraua and Mairehau - but I haven't heard of anyone visiting them. It's not on the way to anywhere so I suspect it will just be the odd hunter that cruises through. I'm hoping there are some trails up there but have a feeling it's going to be leatherwood central.

There's 9 spot heights that I want to visit - I'll never knock that many new Tararua spots off in a trip again on account of having only 20 to go after this trip.

There's a number of challenges to this trip - the fore-mentioned vegetation, the four spots on steep side spurs that defy an elegant route plan, no water on the tops, and I'm not sure about access.

What:     Navigation, spot-heighting, and scrub bashing
Where:   Ridge system south west of Mangahao Biv
Who:      Solo
When:    2 February
Map

Previous trips in purple

I drive to the end of Kopikopiko Road - there's a farm house but clearly not a regular residence. There's no public area to park so I figure I had better find the proper farm house and ask about access. This proves to be a couple of Ks back north along the road.

The farm manager is relatively new but is obliging - he gets me to sign farm safety forms and gives me instructions for parking behind the house and for finding the trail which is some way across the farm. He also asks that I text in when I get out.

Back along the road again and I park through a gate with a 'No trespassing' sign. With all the driving around it's after 9.

Despite listening carefully I can't make out where the trail starts - however I find something that looks rightish but proves definitely wrongish as I end up in a scrub gully. I give up and follow the farmland up disturbing 5 deer on the way.

Eventually after a bit of supple jack I find ribbons that lead up and onto the ridge I went up last time to get to Mangahao Biv. I don't deviate down any of the side spurs this time and work my way to 531. The spur down looks quite obvious so I expect to see a bit of a trail but there isn't really any. I see deer sign though and just about bump into one of the culprits - it's about 8m away when it sees me and explodes away.

The spur loses shape towards the bottom so it's a bit of a bash with some sidling to avoid getting bluffed. At the bottom there's a good sized creek which I follow to the top of a water fall - Climbing the other bank I discover I'm on a knife edge spur between two creeks (you can see it on the map). It is in the process of being eroded by both streams so is (geologically) a temporary feature. I teeter along the top before finding a way to scramble down to the other creek.

I follow the creek down to the Mangahao River. Which is up and an unpleasant murky brown - the same colour as last time basically.

I've arrived just above one of the gorge sections I swam up - from here the river flows deep and inky against the rock face and disappears around the corner. I don't know if I would be game to swim down it unless I knew what was around that bend.

Start of the spur up

Looking down

It's a bit before 1pm so the day is getting on and I haven't got to any spots yet. The next bit is an insane route basically bashing up and off spurs with no finesse at all. This is navigation by brute force.

I had thought the spur to 450 and 613 would be easy at the bottom. Not so - the bottom is hairy; a sharp but crumbling edge with kiekie and scrub to grovel through. If you must do this one I suggest heading up the true right of the side stream for 100-200m.

Once past the bottom the vegetation is better and I break onto a lovely little knob with a few big trees, but clear enough to see.




Probably 450 - looking down the Mangahao (east)

Nameless waterfall

The valley to the northwest drains off Ngawhakaraua and is precipitous - you would not want to follow any of these water courses up or down.

There's a bit of scrub but it's pretty good up to 613. I scare a stag that checks me out before trotting down into the scrub - it's 2.30 and I stop for a bite and to study the landscape.

I'm planning to drop off the side of the spur then smash up the other side to 710. There is no obvious route - it all looks steep and nasty. An alternative is to drop to the Mangahao and come at 651 from the south - but I'm not about to tackle that river when it's up.

The descent is steep and I'm hanging off the vegetation much of the time, but by 3.10pm I'm standing in another sizable creek.

The climb is steady and starts with kiekie, once above the creek there is a lot of scrub but a fair amount of animal trails that help.

pt 613 and the face I came down 

About 4.30 I'm at 710. It's clear I won't be getting to the tops tonight so I have a sit and think. The cunning plan is to drop north off 651 then follow the creek to the spur below 782 and find a spot to camp. There's cell phone reception to I text in the plan change.

Near 710

710 - looking north to the ridge, Ngawhakaraua on right 

Another deer checks me out from about 50m away in the scrub, it doesn't shift until I start moving towards it - maybe not so many hunters around here. I find an old shot gun cartridge that suggests someone has been about.

The drop is as scrubby and bushlawyery as expected. I find a wee stream and follow it to the main stream. About 6.30pm I reach the junction that must be the spur to 782. The valley is narrow but I manage to find a spot to camp after a bit of rock gardening (you have to make your bed before you lie in it).

Junction 782

It still takes me longer than it should to pitch the fly. However with a clear forecast I'm relaxed about pitching it high and am quite satisfied with my efforts. It's a comfortable night although this close to the creek it's very loud and I doubt I'll hear my alarm.

I wake before it's light and have breakfast in bed. By the time I head off it's 6.50am - not early but a reasonable start.

At the junction there's no indications of trails so there's only one way to go - straight up. There's a few scrambles but soon I'm in the scrub with the morning sun warming my back. Pt 782 is in scrub and I am disappointed to find that there is no trail along the ridge. At first there are some clearings and patches of horopito but before long it's a grind through leather wood as I climb towards 830.

This part of the ridge has a wide flat top and some really big leatherwood, although I zigzag about I never find any useful trails - it's basically all hard work.

I struggle over an undistinguished knob that must be Mairehau - goodness knows why anyone bothered naming it. But that could just be scrub fever talking.

A view along another part of this benighted ridge  

Looking toward Ngawhakaraua

To cut a long, bloody and painful story short I struggle onto Ngawhakaraua at about 12.30. The day is scorching, I'm a bit over halfway along the ridge, running low on water and knackered. I crawl into a wee patch of shade to have lunch.

Damn near knocked off by the bugger

Spur with 710 in middle ground

East to the Wairarapa

Ngawhakaraua is a little off the ridge line - I drop off the side a little too soon and find myself in a hellish little gully 20m below the ridge - it takes a while to extricate myself.

I have to stay on the ridge until 749 (the last spot for the trip) before I can drop to find water and hopefully some canopy. The scrub seems to get worse.

Back to Ngawhakaraua - about an hour 45 travel

The soul destroying view forward 

Gentians - I think

At pt 749 I am absolutely fed up. As soon as possible I smash down out of the scrub and surprisingly quickly am in the shade of trees and soon following a series of puddles. Once they are big enough I lie face down in the wee creek and drink my fill.

There's a noise behind me and I turn to see a stag 20m up the bank - it shies away but then comes back a couple of times. It disappears for good when I head in his direction.

The bush is mixed but at least it isn't scrub - the downsides are having to sidle through every gully and trying to work out when I'm on the spur down to the saddle - harder than you'd think. I overshoot but figure things out and drop down a wee creek before crossing back to the correct spur. Like last time coming up, I'm not 100% sure where the trail up to the biv runs - I still reckon it crosses to that next spur north.

The amount of daylight left is becoming an issue - in theory I should be able to whistle down in quick order having travelled up this way twice now. Yeah right. I manage to drift off line and follow every false trail on the entire ridge. Pretty much every spur has a ribboned trail running down it and most of them are better marked than the main ridge.

Looking back I suspect I was suffering the after affects of dehydration with a soupcon of 'get-home-fever.' Despite the waning light it would have been quicker to slow down and look at the compass more. Belatedly I do just that and find my way down to a series of clearings on the sharp spur I thought I should have come up yesterday. The ribbons run out again - I cast about and find they've taken a right angle turn off the spur - oh well, at this point any trail is going to get to the farmland so I follow a good trail down.

I hit the farm over a kilometre south west of my target and have a long walk through deep grass to where I should have come out. When I get there I can sort of see what the farmer was telling me yesterday to find the way up but it isn't that obvious. There's a wee climb up a farm track to the terrace then a trudge across more paddocks to the car.

At 8.50 it is quite dim and I have the headlights on as I head down the road. The farm manager acknowledges the text I send and must think I'm slightly crazy given the time.

Postscript

I'm sure someone famous once said - just because it's possible it doesn't mean it's a good idea.

If you must climb Ngawhakaraua (and it is worth it just to say the name) my money is on a rear assault up the 450/613 spur. The descent from 531 has it's moments at the bottom - but if you prefer swimming up the gorges it's up to you.

Find a better route onto the bottom of the spur than I did (perhaps 150m up the side creek?). I found the going ok up to pt 613 - after that you're on your own - it will be scrubby but at least it's direct.

The route I took successfully took in all the desired spots but it was a bit tough in places. The trip along the ridge was occasionally quite pleasant ... very, very occasionally. If you want to do that one - remember; no water and don't wear shorts.

Pohehe

I've made a number of forays around the dams on the Mangahao river and further up stream - it's past time to visit the neglected part of the range where it exits east to farmland.

The river is significantly modified by hydro in the hills and farming on the flats. Here's the perspective of one of the local iwi.

I'm not intending to visit the river itself, rather a couple of ridges to the south - however, let's see how that works out. There are few (none) formal tracks in the area and it's prone to scrub.

The run up to the trip is not propitious - attempts to find a contact number for access across farmland to the ridge with Pohehe on it are fruitless - I decide to go up and have a look and if there is no other option, walk up the river bed.

What:     Navigation weekender
Where:   Mangahao River, Ngapuketurua Stream and Pohehe
When:    24-25 November 2018
Who:      Solo
Map

Large scale view

Closer view

I follow the usual route towards the Putara Road end but at a key point head right to get to Mangaroa Road. At the end is a closed gate so, back track and stop at a house to see who is the owner - they direct me around the corner to a farm. The chap hosing the yard is less than helpful and mentions that there are hunters up the hill - the unavoidable subtext being: "I'm not about to let you across the farm to the forest park when my mates are up there hunting."

Further north on Kakariki Road West - a young chap on a quad listens to my enquiry and replies that "We don't allow access across our farm to the ridge and neither does the neighbour." Not even to trampers. I ask if there is access down to the river - again; not across their farm but the people up the next road might allow it.

There's no one at home at the indicated property so, with some teeth grinding I drive around a long road loop to get to the bridge over the river by Kopikopiko Road.

It's about 8.15 when I park near at the start of Kopikopiko Road and find a way down to the river. I wade across and start the long walk.

Road bridge by Kopikopiko road

Paradise ducks and Canadian geese complain as I trudge up the wide river bed. It's a long way and I'm in no mood for anyone to challenge my presence - so when a man beside a ute hails me just before I reach the hills I head over ready to exchange words.

Leo turns out to be a hunter who has permission to come across a farm to the river (the one where I got no answer). He asks for a hand to heft a large stag onto the deck of his ute. He has a kayak in the water and gives some good tips about possible routes out of the river. He also confirms that the farm by the gorge that was so unhelpful have their own track up into the park.

We chat for a bit then I leave him to it. The hills close in and the water gets deeper and darker.

Nameless waterfall

Most of the time the river is wadeable but there are four or five long swims required. The water is dark and the bottom far below my flailing boots - fortunately it is mostly without much current as I scrabble along the smooth sides relying on my pack for flotation. By the time I get to the fourth swim I'm shivering despite the mild day.

In attempting to climb around one pool I find a wire loop indicating the route has been used but it's too dicey for me so I retreat and tackle another swim.

It's a bit daunting - and the warning on the map doesn't help "Riverbed subject to rapid flooding." Even though the farmland is not too far behind it feels pretty isolated. However, there's nothing you can't tackle if you lack the imagination to comprehend the possible consequences.

My pack floating is very inelegant - tips? wrap everything very well, stick to the edge to pull yourself along, recognise you'll get cold if it's prolonged, oh and I blow air into my camel back. Every bit helps!

I've been counting the streams and it's 11.30 when a high waterfall on the true right marks where I need to find a route out of the gorges to pick up spot 456. It's a scramble but I find a way up.

There's lots of animal signs on the spur and an old cut branch at the spot-height indicates previous use. The altimeter says I'm below the spot height; the compass says I'm above it. I go with the compass and find the correct spur back down to the river. It deposits me on an old terrace above the river requiring another scramble down. The detour has skipped a section of river but taken two hours.




456 - first spot for the day

The river is less gorgy now with some terraces that would be good for camping. I potter along to the intersection with Ngapuketurua Stream, one of the bigger tributaries of the Mangahao. There's a large terrace opposite and I take a few minutes to have a good wander around it - sure enough; lots of hunters' rubbish.

Ngapuketurua Stream mouth

At about 2.30 I've headed a short distance up the stream to find a rounte onto the toe of the true left spur. Away from the river, a little unnoticed tension drains away as the risks of gorge travel are replaced with the physical challenge of grinding up a hill. There are two spot heights about 400m above at the end of a ridge that require attention - although not far into the Tararuas as the crow flies, they are pretty inaccessible, so I'm determined to knock them off today.

There must be a better route onto the spur than I chose - either in the main valley or closer to the intersection. My choice sees me grovelling up through dense kiekie.

A short way up there's a terrace above a slip face giving a view into the main valley. And shortly after that - more hunters rubbish confirming there must be an easier way up.

Above Mangahao / Ngapuketurua intersection

More plastic - just what the environment needs

It takes about 50 minutes to plod the rest of the way up the spur to a false top then the actual top and for some reason I make it surprisingly difficult to navigate to the other spot. The cover is mixed so I climb a tree and pop my head above the canopy to sort things out. There's some blue sky and sun and I can briefly see some of the surrounding ridges.

Near 564

The top of the ridge is reasonably navigable - it runs SSW all the way up to Taramea near Burn Hut - from bitter experience I know the top end is not pleasant country. These two spots were left behind when I ran out of time on that trip so it's a pleasure to knock them off at last.

The day is hot - I take a bearing and find a usable spur down through good bush - there's even the odd ribbon which I wouldn't have expected. I come out where I had planned and head upstream.

It's late in the afternoon and I'm a little wary that there might be a hunter staking out one of the periodic terraces. I'm wearing my orange 'don't shoot me hat' but that's no guarantee. I keep my eyes peeled but don't see any deer or hunters.

The stream is quite navigable, and before long I reach a side stream that is large enough to be the one running off Pohehe. At 5.45 it's well past lunch so I take a break before tackling the last climb of the day. It's started to get overcast again but still calm with no rain.

Still life: map, log and lunch

The plan is to climb the side of a spur to spot 558 on the valley wall then drop to find a camping spot further up the unnamed stream. Then, by morning I will have hatched a cunning plan to knock off the remaining 7 spots for the weekend, exit down the river and find that no-one has pushed my car into the creek with their tractor.

Ngapuketurua Stream

The stream is tight and slippery with a jumble of rotting logs. It's a short clamber to find a spot on the true left to start climbing the spur. A wee window above a slip gives a brief view up Ngapuketurua Stream then it's back into forest for the climb. The only thing of note is an old terrace covered in animal sign around 400m.

As usual in this neck of the woods - where this is a high canopy the going is generally pretty good with plenty of animal trails (except where there's supplejack). I work along the spur top and take a bearing down a sharp, steep spur. This deposits me onto a steep face which unexpectedly opens to a wee rocky knob. I can check out the start of tomorrow's route and confirm that the main ridge is going to be miserable. It takes a tricky clamber to get down to the creek.

It's about 7.30 and starting to get dim under the canopy when I reach the unnamed stream again. I'm expecting NE rain in the night so find a flat spot and pitch the fly accordingly.

My back is to the creek so I'm surprised when I hear someone splashing vigorously down stream. Turning, I'm confronted by a large deer, about 3m away. Deer are so shy that it is unusual to be so close and have it completely oblivious to my presence. I do the only thing one can do in the circumstances - screaming 'Boo!' at the top of my lungs I watch as it explodes into a gallop and crashes into the distance.

As I unpack I start coming across damp things in my pack - it seems that my liner has a leak.  I burrow down to my sleeping bag with a sinking feeling.

Taking stock - I have a damp but not soaked sleeping bag, all my spare clothes are wet and it's forecast to rain.  On the plus side the temperature is mild.



Waking up

I wear some of the wet stuff to get it drying as I cook tea and climb into my bag. Once the rain starts I climb into my bivvy bag. It rains steadily for a chunk of the night but by morning everything is tolerably dry apart from the foot of my bag.

The great thing about fly camping is that everything that crawls comes by to visit - especially if you have your head torch on.  Tonight a large puriri moth takes an interest in proceedings. It is covered in beautiful green velvet and it's eyes gleam a mad red in the light. It has the look and elegance of a vulcan bomber and takes some dissuading. Fortunately it doesn't seem to want to fly and the dehy packet is slippery enough to form an impassable barrier.

The rain has stopped when I start stirring at 6.30am. 

I heat water for breakfast in bed before leisurely breaking camp and packing





The penny stove does its thing

There's nothing elegant about the plan; smash up the side of the next spur to two spots, drop into a steep stream gully, smash up the side of the next spur. This is pretty much straight line navigation based on the assumption that steep scrambling under canopy will be easier than heading up into scrub country.

A little after 7.30 I start up the slope and into supplejack. The top of the spur is much better going and I pick up the two spots before taking a bearing to pick up the merest suggestion of a spur down into the gully to the north east.

Top of the morning spur

It's a bit of a grind up out of the creek with the cover degenerating into scrub before reaching the target spur. I end up where I intend and there's even some clearings and trail along the flat top. A short deviation down the spur is required to knock off 573 where there are clearings and heavy animal sign - also a little bit of view under a low cloud ceiling into the Mangahao river and the bottom end of Ngapuketurua stream. It's 10.00 and feels like the rain is only just holding off.

Low cloud - south of 573

Climbing the spur towards Pohehe (692) I gird my loins for the scrub.

I can't find much of a trail above 660m. There is higher canopy to the south of the spur but I quickly lose a sense of location as the top flattens. The occasional clearing is no help as it is well clagged in now. I reach a leatherwood covered crest but no idea where - there are some old cut branches which I follow until compass and logic say it must be the wrong direction. About turn - the trail disappears so I follow the compass through dense leatherwood to where the top of Pohehe must be.

After some thrashing around I'm confident to say there are no higher points in the vicinity and set course north east. As usual it is more scrubby than the map indicates.

It's hard country - the bush is higher to the east of the ridge but carries the risk of dropping down the wrong spur periodically. I drift back to the ridge top as it drops to some small clearings then degenerates into a truly horrible scrub bash towards a wee knob (about 640m) 1km NE of Pohehe.

After the knob I drop east again and follow along below the crest in higher bush. This soon degenerates into a scrub bash up to 623. From here the map shows a large flat area which looks like a nightmare to navigate- if the scrub continues it's going to be well dark before I get out. I set my compass and thrash on, checking it every five metres or so to keep on course. Mercifully the canopy starts lifting and I suddenly pop onto a 4WD track. 

The track cuts a wide swathe through increasingly mature forest. It's a well cut track and looks like it is maintained. Things are looking good although it's a bit tricky monitoring the bearing as it winds across the plateau and it feels like it is taking me east of my intended route.

The rain starts and, although the going is now quick, my new boots have developed an interestingly painful pressure point on a single tendon on my left ankle. I limp damply along until the track starts dropping in the definitely wrong direction. Just at the point of cutting losses and turning back I stumble onto a hut.

It looks like it is on the intersection of two tracks and outside the park boundary. I suspect the local farmers have it as their hunting lodge, although it isn't getting a great deal of use apart from by rats.

Still, it's dry and I have a bite and a break while I study the map out of the rain. It's 4pm.

I reckon I know where I am and figure to head back up the road until it starts veering more south.  I pick a point to leave the track and bear towards 582 and immediately find some markers. And shortly after; another 4WD track - this one a little less used. I briefly leave it to pick up point 582 then follow it northish towards 574. It peters out just short of the knob.

From 574 I take a bearing - there's supposed to be a track down here according to Leo. Sure enough, there is an old 4WD track but it is long since impassable to vehicles - there's enough foot trail to indicate regular use. 

I don't have permission to cross the land but with the rain overnight there is no way I'm going to risk the gorge route.  I skulk down the spur then sidle on the gorge side of the farmland. Leo said there were a couple of access routes to the gorge from the farmland so I find my way to the edge of the lowest terrace and work along the edge looking for possibilities.

A large erosion chute catches my eye - at first glance it is impossibly steep. But I note a foot trail leading to the far edge. Following it, I peer over to map a possible route down. Working down the crumbling surface it becomes apparent that it was probably a goat track. There's a bit of a crux in the middle where it gets somewhat sketchy and I am triple testing each foot and hand hold, but my new boots grip the gritty surface well and cut in when they need to. I'm soon scrambling down the wee waterfall at the bottom to reach the river.

The river is up but clear and passable. I find a river stick and wander down - sticking as much as possible to the easier going at the edge of the farmland. It's a long limp back arriving at the car around 7pm.

Postscript

11 spot-heights is a good haul for the weekend - 52 to go. 6 more to clean out on this ridge but access is the problem.

The area has it's attractions - Ngapuketurua Stream is a good wander, the Mangahao River gorges are a bit of an adventure, there are some nice camping spots ... and then there's the scrub. If you want to visit - do your research and pick your route with care.  I can give some excellent advice about where not to go.

The new Zamberlan boots are holding up but it felt like a long time on my feet. The pressure point on the left foot better start coming right ahead of a 6-day tramp over Christmas. Living in wet clothes for two days resulted in a bit of chafe including a raw patch on my rib cage from the PLB in my pocket - weird. Otherwise the usual scratches and bruises - the most spectacular of which is a zombie eye from another twig finding a way around my glasses. It looked spectacularly bad for three or four days before fading but oddly didn't hurt that much after the first two days.