Cone SAREX - 2

An email arrives out of the blue from Wairarapa Search and Rescue (SAR) noting that I'd been a missing party for an exercise a couple of years ago (more than three as it turns out) and would I be available to do so again.

It's good to be able to help out in some small way and you always learn a thing or two on these sort of outings, so I'm more than happy to oblige. 

A few days out, Tony (Police) touches base to confirm the briefing for the missing persons party is at the Masterton SAR base at Midday Friday and we'll be heading up to Cone to camp for the night before deploying to our locations. We duly convene and receive our instructions ...

What:   SARex
Who:     Paul, Fiona, Cameron, me
Where:  Cone area - eastern Tararuas
When:   15-17 November 2019
Photo credits:   Fiona, apart from the bad ones of the inside of my fly and the clematis   
Maps:






Saturday details - camp at triangle, broken leg at arrow, F&C purple, cancelled route blue

Tony has outdone himself with the creativity of the backstory. Paul, Fiona, Cameron and I are a group of Christian aid workers just returned from Vanuatu and headed into the hills for a bit of adventure.  Paul's wife is not too thrilled about the prospect given his fitness but has dropped us at the Waiohine road end - she has some vaguely outlined intentions that will be fed to the Incident Management Team at the appropriate time.

We're supplied with written story lines, injury descriptions, RTs (with a scramble channel as well as the same channels as the rescue teams so we can follow progress), grid reference to be missing at, GPS unit and ration packs for the weekend before a member of the constabulary (in the role of Paul's wife) takes us to the road end.

In real life, Paul is an experienced tramper who has been the missing person on quite a few SAR exercises including the one I went on. Fiona and Cameron are Wellington SAR volunteers who are looking forward to the experience from the other side of the fence.

Just before we head off we take a group photo which will be supplied to the IMT.





We take it slow on the way up and over the familiar route to Cone Saddle. Although there's been a bit of rain, the mud is still el dente. We check in with Tony from the saddle and start up to Cone itself.  As we climb it gets colder and windier. The forecast bad weather is starting to come through so we keep an eye out for possible 'plan B' camping spots should the high camp be untenable - there's not much in the offing though.














At the bushline we disperse through the low goblin forest to try to find our own wee niches. The wind is whipping across the open top of Cone and driving the first of the drizzle through the sparse cover of the forest edge. It's looking like a very uncomfortable night is in the offing.

The others find their positions and I plumb for the spot I used last time - it's a bit damp underfoot but flat and has some usefully spaced trees. The fly whips in the wind and the para cord ties itself in notes to frustrate increasingly numb fingers.

Eventually I have a low pitched fly with a jury rigged wind break down the sides from a stack of branches left by the last track clearing party. It looks wholly inadequate but I will be sleeping in my bivvy bag as well so I consider it done and pop over to Fiona and Camerons' rather more salubrious digs. They have a three sided fly with some actual head room and water boiling for dinner, I cadge a cup full and we sit in the gathering gloom watching Paul's fly whip in the wind. I can feel the roots of the tree I'm sitting against lifting as the tree flexes.

Chez Paul - the lump in the middle is him

Room for two

How low can you go?

It's a restless night. The wind batters my position with rumbling signalling when a particularly strong gust is barreling in across the tops. The fly is below the worst of it but is taking a beating and there's enough rain that water starts flowing underneath. I'm warm but definitely hunkered down to endure the night and don't get a lot of sleep with the nylon flapping a few inches above my nose.

Snug?

Tony calls up on schedule in the morning to say that there will be no helicopter flying today - this means ground teams will have to walk to our location to start the search, adding about four hours. He outlines a slightly changed scenario whereby Paul will be found more quickly but the rest of us will stick to the original plan. I radio Cameron and Fiona (about 12m away) to liaise on a get up and out time - they're keen to get moving as our target locations are in the lee of the ridge. I've already had breakfast so this gives me a bit of time to contemplate my next move.

The big down side of bivs in bad weather is the logistic complexity of getting into and out of them with out getting your dry gear wet and muddy. I spend the last few warm minutes in my sleeping bag stepping through the process.

Although the wind is still strong with belts of rain coming through, it's not too cold so once we get moving it's not bad. We leave Paul under his fly - he'll wander down the track a wee way when the search team approaches and pretend to be suffering the effects of a diabetic attack. His story will confirm our direction of travel and our intention to leave the marked track.

A brief stop to pick up water from the tarn which has an active spring in it today and shortly after we are back in beech forest and out of the wind.

There's no hurry so we amble along until where my spur diverges and I say goodbye to Fiona and Cameron. They are destined for the next major spur where they will be overcome by a violent bout of Campylobacter rendering them non-responsive - me; to break my tibia off the side of my spur.

Christian aid worker Fiona prepares for the ordeal ahead

The somewhat devout Cameron and me

With plenty of time I wander down making no effort to hide my trail. It's a bit of a tricky shape to the spur in places - left to my own devices I would have just pottered along with compass and map, but I crack out the GPS in a few spots as I don't want to stuff the exercise up by ending up in the wrong spot.

Part way down an explosion of white flowers draped through a sub-canopy tree herald a clematis vine. They glow in the low light but are tricky to get a shot of due to the wind. I assume it is Clematis peniculata or puawhananga which flowers around now.

Around the 600m contour there's a wee knob, it's about where I'm supposed to have wandered off the main line of the spur and followed a side spur north east, but for now I decide to stay put knowing I have radio coverage until a search team gets close.

It's windy but the cloud cover is trying to break - I wrap up and settle down on my sleeping mat for lunch with sleeping bag and fly spread out to dry. Every hour Tony checks in and I follow the progress of the search parties. Fiona and Cameron report that they have found a lovely flat spot on their spur and set up camp.

Fiona and Cameron - very comfortable

A party eventually radios in that Paul has been found - he dutifully delivers his messages then tags along as they are redeployed along the ridge. Time for me to head for the site of my accident. I discover that my sleeping mat has a puncture - an added incentive to be found in time to get to a hut or road end.

In the end I prop a little way up slope of my final objective and sit and read my book with half an ear on the radio. At his next call in Tony agrees that the chances of finding me here tonight aren't good so I redeploy back to my previous spot around 600m - no reading though as there are spots of rain. I don't have to wait long before another change in plan - it seems one rather than two parties will be searching my spur so I need to relocate further up, and quickly as 'there are a couple of grey hounds in that group.'

I race back up, find a plausible spot to have taken a fall (on the leeside of the spur) - and settle in again. This time in clag with the bad weather feeling ominously close.  I'm worried that the team may have beaten me and headed down to 386 according to the revised search plan (blue dots on map) but Tony calls in and confirms they are still on their way.

Soon after I hear voices from up the spur - I blow my whistle and shouting ensues. I am most decidedly a responsive patient with every intention of not having to spend another night out.

The team turn up and do their thing - assessing my condition, asking what I know about the others, reporting to base etc. They are quite proud to report the signs they have found of my trail - foot prints and scuff marks (yep - should be lots of those), a wee coloured rubber band (never seen it before), and a mock camp site (sorry - not me either). They also ask if I heard their whistling (nope - just the voices).

After a while I am miraculously healed and we proceed on down the spur - apparently the team has been retasked and we will be following the spur to Totara Flats and not the side spur to 386 (so I didn't need to race back up the hill after all).  Periodically they pause and spread out, block their ears, blow their whistles then listen intently. One of them is sure he hears a whistle but as the party closing in on Fiona and Cameron are well over a kilometre away with a strong wind it wasn't from the search exercise..

The team are still looking for signs of the other missing persons so in the interests of speed I break role and point out that I've been down and up the spur so don't get too excited by all the marks. 

The search develops a twist with the notification of a real missing person on Mt Reeve - south of the search area. A teams is duly dispatched to Tutuwai  Hut with instructions to set out early and search in the morning - another couple of teams are located to the Waiohine road end for possible deployment in the morning (however the chap walks out under his own steam in the end). The rest of the exercise continues.

At 600m the spur shape gets confused so the team follow their GPS but towards the bottom we drift off and the last 40 vertical meters is through supplejack and kiekie in the gathering dark.

At the bottom we are abruptly on flat ground and within 40 meters I'm standing on the track. It's starting to rain in earnest.

The team confer on next steps - bivvy up here or head to the hut. I'm mildly interested in their conclusion as I have absolutely no intention of spending a night out in the rain and wind with a flat sleeping mat.

Fortunately they come up with the correct answer and we head out on what will be (after one wee terrace) a flat three kilometres to Totara Flats Hut.

My headtorch batteries are just about had it but I'm not going to hold the party up to change them so stick to the leader's heels, the rest of the team strung out behind. Doing a quick count we realise that there are too many lights - it looks like another team is behind us. It turns out to be Fiona and Cameron who were left behind by their rescuers to strike camp - they seem to have recovered as well from their D&V as I have from a broken leg.

Eventually a tinge of woodsmoke in the air followed by the smell of the loo herald our arrival at a crowded Totara Flats Hut.

There's quite a few of the SAR teams in loc as well as the usual punters. A Meet-up tramping group is also settled in and I exchange a few words with Scott but am a little bit more intent on getting out of the wet and into some dinner.

There's no mattresses to be had so I settle on my deflated mat on the common room floor. Outside the wind slashes rain against the hut.  The morning can wait but we are required to be at Holdsworth road end by 10am so it will be an early start.

I sleep surprisingly well - aided by the near miraculous lack of snorers (the bunk rooms didn't fare so well apparently).

The SAR parties start heading out so the missing persons link up again and set off into the elements. The Waiohine is up and turbid - there would be no crossing it today. The track up Totara Creek is mostly a running stream until the footbridge and the start of the sidle up the hill.

One of our party is not 100% so we take it slowly and let the other parties past. It's unrelentingly soggy at the start.

The track is well marked and of a good standard. After the first steep climb it ambles along and down to the saddle between Totara and Carrington creeks. This is where it hooks up with the old route that followed Totara creek. The next section is interesting because, although it is on a bit of a spur there is often a wee stream running down the track. It is also the longest climb in the Tararuas - not because it actually is, just because you want to have it over and done with but it just doesn't seem to want to end.

Our afflicted party member is making heavy weather of the climb so we redistribute some gear and I end up with a pack on front - fortunately two ridiculously light packs make up a normal pack so it is no hardship.

The end of the climb is signalled when the track flattens and sidles east across the slope - we pop out at the junction with Gentle Annie track for the long downhill. Gear is redistributed to its rightful owner and we head on down at a good pace.

Paul points out some useful side spurs to the Atiwhakatu river and links up ridge to the old track - he clearly knows these parts very well. The weather gets progressively better as we head for the valley floor and we start bumping into day and dog walkers.

At the last bridge I hear over the radio that the van is full and is leaving - bugger, we'll have to wait for another to be dispatched.  It's not so bad though as there are patches of sun breaking through and the time passes quickly.

The SAR base is a hive of activity with the IMT winding down, teams debriefing and gear being checked in. I make a beeline for 1. the car (dry clothes) then 2. the BBQ.

Pretty soon I'm warm, dry, fed and have returned the electronics. The volunteers are exchanging notes about their various taskings; they are friendly but it's a little like any club when you're not a member so I slip away and leave them to it.

Wairarapa SAREX 2019 - Missing persons team

Postscript

I said you always learn a thing or two during these events - so,what were they?

There's how SAR teams and events operate - I'm bound to need them one day and it's good to understand what to expect. On the pragmatic side, I used a GPS in anger for about the second time in the bush and I learned the hard way how robust my sleeping pad isn't. I also have a better idea about the limitations of my fly.

The main thing that struck me though was the psychological difference between SAR team members, tramping parties and me. SAR operations are large, command and control affairs; for it all to work teams have to trust that IMT will make the decisions and do the tasking - too much autonomy would be a bad thing. The team members themselves have to be able to stick to their subtasks and work together to be effective. Decision making is by necessity through group processes within externally defined parameters and religious attention to safety. Team member skill levels are definable in terms of formal training undertaken, experience and assignment to leadership roles. It's a little like working with the army but, as volunteers, the uniform/civvy divide is less pronounced.

Tramping groups share a lot of these characteristics but without the same external command and control element and with varying degrees of formality around group decision making. Competence is often harder to gauge, highly variable and leadership self-assigned. They can be great or downright dangerous.

As a solo tramper I find group process and progress to be slow - not having the advantage of group discussion I'm used to analysing a problem while I'm walking, and only really stopping to assess a hazard or make navigation decisions. Although free of the problems of group think and risk threshold shift I have to try to avoid pitfalls like personal blind spots and failing to recognise impaired decision ability. I reckon you think differently when there's no one there to watch your back and need to be mindful about how this influences how you behave when in a group.

Although my views on the net increase in risk associated with solo tramping are on record, I did observe how being in a group changed my risk exposure.  On my own I would have stayed in Cone Hut on Friday night and headed up the ridge early Sat morning - thereby avoiding a rough night out. I would also have been off the spur and to the hut in daylight hours and less exposed to the elements by being out faster on the Sunday.

So what? I'll probably carry a bit more kit when I'm in a group as there is more standing around getting cold and higher chance of getting into some situations I would avoid on my own.

But overall, the main thing was getting a better appreciation of the hours and effort that a lot of volunteers put into SAR - I sure am a helluva lot happier knowing they're out there practicing for when I might be needing them.

SK Valleys

A few years back someone rather carelessly told me about a traditional challenge of 'doing' the length of the Tararuas in the space of a weekend. They should have had more care - the idea lodged and it was pretty much inevitable that at some point I would have a go. Without going into all the details, it is called the 'SK', or the Schormanns - Kaitoke, after the start and finish points. The Schormanns Track no longer exists so you leave from the nearby Putara Road end, but somehow 'PK' has not caught on - shame, it has a bit of a ring to it.

There are a couple of main options and lots of variations - the Valleys route is easier and more direct. The tops is longer and, not surprisingly, more exposed with considerably more up and down. Records exist for assisted and solo efforts, and the times being posted now are superhuman.

When I say 'easier' the Valley SK is still a small matter of 74km and a net climb of a little under 3400m.  I'm not chasing a record though - I'd just like to get the idea out of my head.

What:   SK Valleys
Where:  P to K
Why:     Because it'll bug me until I've done it
Who:     Solo, unassisted
When:   10 December 2016
Map:     Map

Preparation

With regular trips over recent months my fitness is at a suitable level and gear all well tested. The trip is on marked tracks, apart from a section at the start down the Ruamahanga River. I don't like rivers at the best of times, so checked it out a couple of weeks back. I've been over almost all the rest of it at some time, although it's been a while for some parts, and I'm not looking forward to scrambling around slips on the Tauherenikau (the subject of a long standing DoC warning).

On Wednesday I figure I've recovered from the previous weekend's exertions but the forecast is marginal - the story of this summer so far. The Ruamahanga River gauge drops gently over the next few days though, so at midday on Friday I decide it's a goer.

The plan is to start early Saturday morning, see how the day goes, and either soldier on into the night or sleep at one of the huts en route. I have a weekender hut pack (i.e. sleeping bag, no tent, warm layers, food, emergency gear) which means more weight but also more peace of mind. All up weight (with water) is 6.7 kg.

I complete the usual intentions sheet and send it to my PLB contacts with outlines of various contingency options.

The route

The original SKs involved trains, rail cars and taxis to get from Wellington to the track end on a Friday night after work. In the grand tradition I intend to catch the Wairarapa train, but then to spend the night in Carterton for a comfortable sleep and a drop off at the track end by an understanding brother.

The route follows the major river systems in turn as they run parallel to the length of the Tararuas in the east of the range, before each exits into the Wairarapa to join the Ruamahanga. This means a series of saddles and rivers, with huts around the more popular areas. It also provides regular milestones to mark progress: 6 saddles, 5 river systems (not counting the Mangatainoka) and 7 huts.

The final act is climbing up Smith Creek to Puffer Saddle and the long sidle and descent to the new (to me) road end at Kaitoke.

Kick off

At about 0515 it is dim in the bush but more than enough light to not need a torch. The clouds are gathered and threatening in the west, but it's not cold. The track along the stream and up to the junction is familiar territory.

Record shot - 0517

The junction (right to the Main Range, left to Roaring Stag) after 0:52 is my first saddle and at 1:40 Roaring Stag is my first hut (score: 1,1,0). The wind is strong in the tree tops - the sort where you get a little jumpy at creaks and cracks from overhead.

There's no-one in Roaring Stag as I fill in the log book, pause briefly, and checkout the river. Probably half a metre lower than two weeks back so it is looking good not to use the terraces (the high route that avoids the gorge section at Cleft Creek).

First sunlight creeping down one of the many slips

It's much easier travel down river this time. I hardly use the terraces, and boulder hop most of the way to the bluffs, about 0:45 min after leaving Roaring Stag. It's still deep, and I can't touch the bottom in places through the bluffs, but a lot less of a proposition than last time.

Looking back up through the bluff section -
deep on the true right but navigable by holding onto the rock

0:20 min later the gorge above Cleft Creek is unmistakable. The river runs onto the right bank forming a deep section against the rocky side. It's no drama to cross upstream in thigh deep water with just a little help from a koro stick.

Start of the gorge above Cleft Creek

The other side provides bouldery travel and a short scramble along a rock face opposite Cleft Creek. The river broadens and slows and another thigh deep crossing is easily accomplished. The track is on the right somewhere up on a terrace; I potter down stream a short distance to find a way to scramble up. Three hours after leaving the carpark I'm standing on the track (1,1,1).

Cleft Creek

Gorge above Cleft Creek

River below Cleft Creek

The first thing that is apparent is that a track team has been through - ferns, grasses and saplings have been cleaned off at ground level and markers have been added - fairly recently by the look of it.

The track climbs alongside then joins Cleft Creek and I am soon standing at the stream junction, which two weeks ago took 2:26 from Stag Hut with the river up and using the terraces route. This time, using the river route and the new track, it has taken 1:38.

Bear right but keep an eye on the markers because the track soon takes a new route

The next surprise is that the track takes a completely different route to the saddle. Instead of following a side stream, it dives into the bush and grunts straight up a spur. Eventually it bears right and sidles and rises for a long while to eventually hit the junction in the saddle, right beside the sign post to Waingawa. I'm stunned - I had stood at this point two weeks ago and saw no sign of this track.

However, right now I'm a little more focused on ticking off the top of the second saddle. It's 09:06, about 3:50 in, score: 2,1,1.

It's a short hop down to wade across the Waingawa and arrive at Cow Creek Hut 18 minutes later (2,2,1).

Cow Creek Hut

The track is now a fairly typical Tararua River track. It potters along in the bush, on grassy flats, across slips and in and out of side streams.

About 1:50 later the rather elegant Mitre Flats Hut hoves into view (2,3,1). The weather is still holding.

Mitre Flats 

I don't have fond memories of the Barton Track that climbs to the next saddle. It is pretty much as I remember: a bit of a climb up, a long sidle with a wee descent, then a drop into a creek, and a bit of a mucky scramble out and up again. I'm also starting to feel the distance already traveled. It is nice however to get to the intersection with Baldy Track and join the track I traveled last week (12:54, 7:37 elapsed, score: 3,3,2).

Descending from the saddle, heavy drops start pattering through the canopy, and by Atiwhakatu Stream the rain has set in. It's warm enough though, so I don't bother with a jacket. Between the two routes up to Jumbo I meet my first people - a group of three women who are following the old track up to Jumbo. We chat briefly but I can't tell them much about that route.

40 min from the saddle Atiwhakatu Hut (3,4,2) and I'm chatting to a couple who are just leaving having come in for a day walk. After filling in the log book, I take a bit of time for lunch out of the rain. I'm thinking now about when dark will become a factor. It's looking good to get through Cone Saddle which I hadn't fancied doing at night (it's years since I've been up through there).

The track now is a veritable highway and familiar from last week. It is also crowded as I run into a couple more parties and pass the couple from earlier.

Leaving the Atiwhakatu Stream (3,4,3) and climbing the River Ridge I start feeling a bit under the weather. Consequently it's a slow ascent. I figure I haven't been getting enough energy in, and focus on slowly nibbling through bars despite not feeling like eating. Voices ahead indicate I've reached Pig Flat. This is the route to Powell Hut and Mt Holdsworth but, more importantly, another saddle (4,4,3). It's 9:50 on the go now.

The Totara Creek Track is new territory. Last time I traveled in this direction it followed down the creek. Now it stays on the ridge above, then drops down a spur to cross on a solid swing bridge. The track is well bedded in now. This part of the trip should be quick going but I'm still making somewhat heavy weather of it and concentrate on just ticking along.

Totara Flats Hut is pumping when I arrive at 4:50 (4,5,3). It's hard finding a space to sit and drip and fill in the log book. A tourist kindly offers me some gourmet chocolate, and is understandably a little nonplussed that I am intending to leave a perfectly good hut at this time of day and in this weather.

The grass on Totara Flats is carrying as much water as it can hold and consequently deposits cascades of it as I brush through. A pause for the customary gaze across to the location of Sayers Hut - no-one to be seen but there's a waft of wood smoke in the trees almost indistinguishable from the mist. A little further on, a distinctive tang on the breeze removes any doubt.

A 'new' bridge has improved access to Cone Saddle Track. I remember a trip with school mates when Makaka Creek was a torrent and we sensibly turned back for an extra night at the old Totara Flats Hut. While we were there Greame Dingle came through with a bunch of hard youngsters and a camera crew. Later we heard a helicopter go over and I think the story goes that someone got swept away in a river crossing - not fatally fortunately.

Cone Saddle - camera in bag because of rain

I plod up Cone Saddle and meet a party of young women doing a trip for their Duke of Ed, together with adult chaperons. They are off to Totara Flats.

My memories of Cone Saddle is of a false top followed by a long sidle then a final wee 'up' to the saddle. I'm downright slow now and it takes ages to get through the sidle. Two creeks are significantly up but still quite passable.

At the saddle it's 7:28 and still light, but I arrived at Totara Flats Hut 2:40 ago so it has been slow. Still, 5,5,4 feels like progress.

21 minutes later I take a break at Cone Hut (5,6,4). There's a chap from the Rotorua Tramping Club in residence. He has come down from Alpha but spent the day in the hut. He has plenty of time, no firm plans and - hell, why flounder around in the wet when you don't need to!

I take a good wee time to drip on the floor, don jacket (it's not so warm now), fill in the log book, chat and ... yep, basically farf about and avoid getting back out there.

With head torch ready in pocket I eventually drag myself away. By now I have pretty much resolved that I may as well see this through, so there's a long evening walking ahead.

The Tauherenikau is making itself heard today. It's considerably up and you would not contemplate crossing to the Bull Mound Track. I am slightly concerned that I will hit a creek that is impassible somewhere down river.

Just before 9pm the very last of the light sees me to Tutuwai Hut: 5,7,4 and 15:40 on the go. A couple have a tent on the flats - he is in the hut and is tossing up whether to sleep out or in. The rain has finally abated so I switch on my light, top up my water and head on into the night.

It's hard to gauge progress in the dark. The only thing that provides information about the world beyond my torch light is the roar of the river. I know there are some slips to scramble around and the track does potter along and up and down - at one point there's a knotted rope but there's not much to indicate what's in the blackness below - very comforting!

I see numerous possums; ghostly in the light - twin pin prick eyes that look, disappear, then look again before heading up the nearest tree. A couple of times larger animals slip off into the undergrowth. When the track bears away from the river the odd Morepork can be heard. Otherwise I follow the tunnel through the trees and try to watch for markers and my footing at the same time until suddenly, I'm trying to make sense of what turns out to be a swing bridge support.

This is a major milestone. There have been no real navigational difficulties or impassable streams. I find out later that the rain had hardly touched the Wairarapa so the streams on my side of the river had hardly received anything whereas the Tauherenikau had had an ample dump in its head waters.

The interminable meander down river is now reduced to less than two km to Smith's Creek on a gentle track then the final climb to the final saddle. I don't even notice the shelter as I head past.

I confess to disliking this part - it can never be over fast enough. Smith's Creek represents the worst of accessibility, with the shelter often filthy and abused. The clay track beyond the saddle is lethal in running shoes and there's gorse among the scrub. Not good reasons to be so down on it - it's more likely to be something to do with usually being pretty much buggered by the time I get to this point and just wanting the pain to stop.

Picking my time I pop a gel tube with the idea that it will have well kicked in by the time I start up the wee climb to the saddle. Along the way there is a long standing bypass around a slip which I ignore - the route through is perfectly serviceable, even at night. Then the long drag up the valley, hanging out for the last stream crossing, which marks the short climb then sidle to the saddle: 6,7,5 - it's after midnight and, at last, I have run out of numbers.

There's cell reception now so I wake the long suffering support crew from her slumbers and she very gamely agrees to meet me at the road end. I'm somewhat surprised that it is quite a distance down to the new carpark by the entrance to Kiwi Ranch so she arrives only 10 minutes or so after me.

In the end, according to the time stamp on my start and finish photos, it took 19 hours and 43 minutes from P to K. Nice to finally get that out of my head - just the Tops version to do now. But not in one go I think.

Lessons

There's a few things that I would do differently when I don't ever do this again ...

My food choices were somewhat random; an assortment of bars, some emergency gels and can of sardines. I had enough but the bars proved to be a bit rich and hard to get down when I was feeling the pinch. Definitely need a little more thought.

A nasty case of chaff that had me walking like a cowboy for the next few days could have been prevented - tights are great for cool weather travel but do tend to rub a bit.

There are plenty of escape routes - I should have committed and not carried the extra weight of a sleeping bag and one of the extra layers.

I had a bit of a scrape on my forearm from last week and was a bit concerned about ripping the scab off and getting it infected. A telfa pad with a sleeve made from a nitrile glove with the fingers cut off to keep it in place worked brilliantly.

I was pretty stiff and sore for the next few days with the normal odd bruises, numb toes and the like, also a few wee spots where friction from clothing or pack straps had rubbed the skin off. Nothing that a bit more fitness and care wouldn't prevent. I also developed an interesting facial rash that could have been chloracne but for the absence of dioxin. It took a few days to clear - probably not shingles - possibly a heat rash, but seems a bit weird.

Running shoes were good and light but were lethally slippery on wet roots and rocks. Surprisingly I only got a couple of wee blisters but by the end it felt like someone had taken a rattan cane to my feet. I think I need something with a more aggressive tread, a bit of an instep and slightly more rigid sole.

Waiohine Steeplechase

This is the report from the inaugural Midwinter Waiohine Solo Steeplechase. The event has a simple set of rules the first two of which may be gleaned from the title: midwinter being around mid-July and solo being without any external assistance of any kind. Participants must carry a two-day pack including shelter, sleeping bag and warm clothes (safety first), direction of travel is discretionary. There are a few other rules and more can be made up as you go along. It doesn't promise to be a spectator sport and I don't expect it to catch-on to any degree.

What: Day trip with provision for likely overnight
Where: Loop from Holdsworth, to Powell Hut via River Ridge track, down High Ridge, down left bank of Waiohine to Sayer Hut, cross stream and ascend Waiohine, then follow ridge north to drop onto Totara Creek Track and exit to Holdsworth Road via Gentle Annie Track
Why: Practice navigation and knock off a number of routes

When: Midwinter

Map: Link

The plan started with the intention to climb Waiohine, the highest point on the ridge between the Waiohine River and the Wairarapa. But how best to get there? For various reasons the ridge north was chosen, giving Holdsworth rather than Walls Whare as the base. Not being big on there-and-back trips, various loop options started to form but it just had to be High Ridge. Joining them up was a simple matter of avoiding the usual teeming hoards on Totara Flats by using a route described by the TTC along the Waiohine left bank.

An early start from home has me leaving the car in the frosty pre-dawn at Holdsworth Road end. At 7am, it is not yet light but after a pit stop there's enough not to have to crack out the head torch.

The turn-off to the River Ridge Track is easy to find. On the way up I'm reminded of a trip up here late one evening but now wonder what I was worried about. It's a relaxed grade and easy to follow, with sunrise catching me part way up. On the way I discover a wee bit of gravel rattling around in the toe of one boot - must remember to whip it out at the next stop.  At 8.10 I reach the cluster of signs at Pig Flat.

Nondescript forest catching the first of the sun 

No excuses to get lost

From Pig Flat looking up at Powell Hut

It's a steady climb on a good track to an empty Powell Hut, arriving at 8.50. On the way, the periodic view spots confirm that it is a glorious day. I also get my first glimpses of High Ridge. There are steep slips near the head of the ridge but most of it undulates along under a thick bush canopy after a short stints along the open tops.

Last time I came up here in the dark the wind was whistling through the trees and there was ice on the ground. This time the puddles are iced over and the gravel on the track frozen solid, but no wind.

First view

Great Walk standard track

First sight of High Ridge

Waiohine valley, my ridge on the left

Back down towards Holdsworth road end

High Ridge

Powell Hut

From Powell Hut

I take a brief stop to admire the view, top up water (no sense carrying much up the hill after all), fill in the log book and forget to take the piece of gravel out of my boot. It is tempting to pop up to the peak but I resign myself to saving the time, arriving at my turnoff a bit before 9.10.

Finding the right spot to leave a marked track can sometimes be tricky, requiring map reading skills and a weather eye out for the subtle signs that indicate the best route. It's not so hard at the High Ridge junction.

Finding the junction to High Ridge

Holdsworth second lump to left, Jumbo one of the lumps towards the right

High Ridge
Southern Crossing on the horizon

Aokaparangi on Main Range (I think)

The travel down over tussock and herbs is easy, with a ground trail that comes and goes. I am relishing cracking the ice in the puddles but even more so the superb views across the Mid Waiohine Valley to the Main Range, behind to Holdsworth, Hector and the Southern Crossing on the horizon, and various familiar spurs dropping into hidden valley depths. The sound of the river 900m below somehow serves to accentuate the sense of space, distance and the sheer volume of empty air between the ridges.

I pay particular attention to the Waiohine Ridge which, with a bit of luck, I will be returning along this afternoon. The winter sun is throwing the spurs into relief and I think I can spot my target.

Around about now my watch starts informing me that the battery is running down. I tend to rely on the altimeter to confirm location so this may get challenging if it stops working - particularly later in the day with fading light.

The ground trail is a little hard to follow when it approaches the bush line, but for a change I manage to find the right spot and duck into the green, mossy shade at 9.30. There's a reasonable track that follows along the ridge and off to the east side. Mr Orange Tape Man has been through with a somewhat liberal hand.

Bush entry point - easy to miss

Typical goblin forest

Periodically there are little windows in the bush showing a slice of the Main Range. At one of these I am captivated by a flock of Rifleman who ignore me completely, carrying on with their high pitched twittering - like very small bits of polystyrene on tiny, tiny glass bottles. A bush robin cocks a beady eye - it's tempting to say 'cheekily' but it's pretty clear that it is merely sizing up the potential calorific benefits of interacting with big-noisy-two-legs.

Even under the canopy this is one of those great Tararua days. The full enjoyment is gained by paying in the coin of numerous windy, clagged-in struggles along exposed ridges.

Aokaparangi

Mt Crawford perhaps?

During recent trips I've noticed that when it's cold my hands swell up quite noticeably, particularly the left one. Today it looks like Beryl Cook drew them. I'm going to assume that it is nothing serious and possibly something to do with tight pack and watch straps.

Where the ridge widens the ground trail tends to dissipate but the compass is only required a couple of times. I get lazy and switch from navigation mode to tramping mode - this is where you follow the track and the markers and pay little attention to map and compass - faster but when you lose the track you have much less awareness of where you are. My left toes have now become intimately familiar with all the sharp facets of the piece of gravel - but no damage done, so will fish it out at the next stop.

Some of the old markers still remain

For some reason Mr Orange Tape Man becomes all parsimonious at some of the more tricky bits approaching Flaxy Knob. A bit of time is wasted trying to find the trail before confirming with the compass.

I may not have been paying attention but I didn't see any flax at Flaxy Knob. Maybe it's tramping irony? The route off the Knob is well marked but there are some notable gaps on the way down.

Old but still serviceable

I start the descent at 11.03 with some guidance notes from the TTC website in hand - I'd have to say that they were hard to match to the terrain, although their estimate of 90 min top to bottom was bang on. The trick is to get on the correct spur and not one that veers right towards the tricky steep slopes above the Waiohine. All up I can't claim navigation skills for following the right spur - merely the ability to find the next marker.

I pause for a bite part way down and neglect to remove the gravel again.

Belt, braces and bailing twine

Gate A?

The track drops down to a cairn by the Totara Creek Track arriving at 12.36. The swing bridge to Totara Flats Hut is one minute away but I'm heading across Totara Creek and there's nothing for it but to get wet feet.

Cairn you see it?  (dedicated to Scott)

Totara Creek to Totara Flats Hut (Waiohine River in between)

On the other side there are various flats and terraces to follow. The river is up a bit so there is no space along the edge, and I end up in a bit of a messy, scrubby scramble until there is enough river edge to boulder hop across the bottom of the slip. On the other side I fossick along for a bit then duck into the bush edge and follow along on the terrace. Eventually there is quite a well marked and formed track to follow which leads directly to Sayer Hut arriving 1.20 for lunch.

Sayer Hut

The day has clouded over and cooled down, giving a feeling of limited daylight hours. I take a 20 minute break to eat, complete the log book, top up water (enough for a night out), stack the tools under cover that some idiot had left outside, and once again forget about the piece of gravel.

The next bit is a bit of a punt. The spur across Sayer Stream isn't exactly the obvious route up to Waiohine, but it's closest. There's plenty of game trails for a start, and a bit of scrambling around on the lower slopes, but eventually it's not too bad going. At 640m I come across a well marked route with stoat traps, which takes me almost to the top.

At 3.07 it's been about 90 minutes climbing to a wee clearing with a post and good views north and west.

Waiohine.

This is what we came here for - top of Waiohine

My ridge on right - spur with proper track to Sayer in the midground 

The ridge has a reasonable ground trail but is not fast travel. At 3.34 I'm at spot height 810 and take a compass bearing to bear left and gain the Sayer Track 14 minutes later. And this is where I waste a fair bit of time.

I truck along keeping an eye out for indications of where the route leaves the track - miss them completely and drop too far. Retracing my steps I work out where I need to go and strike off through the bush to get up to the desired ridge. On top is a strong ground trail and lots of markers - goodness knows how I missed it. There's a bit of teeth grinding as I think of the daylight minutes wasted.

To mouth of Totara Creek

The ground trail remains pretty strong until just after 768 (at 4.27) the top of a spur to the mouth of Totara Creek is well marked and obviously well traveled. A few minutes later a rocky tor gives some great views although difficult to capture in the last of the sun. 20 minutes later the next break gives only glimpses of a few rays filtering between the north western peaks.

The clock is definitely ticking now. In the gathering gloom it is getting harder to spot the ground trail. I don't want to crack out the torch though, as that will pretty much destroy what little sense of the shape of the terrain remains in the waning light. Someone has twisted wrappers around branches in places and I spot the last of these at a point where I think the path should drop to the left - it suggests this it that point so I take a bearing to the Totara Creek track and head off down the slope. A deer moves off to avoid me but remains unseen.

I've completely lost the ground trail now and work my way down, fortunately through pretty open woodland. A curious shape on a tree turns out to be a track marker and a couple of steps later the Totara Creek Track. Solid and wide - a bit of a relief.

Arrival at Totara Creek Track - getting a bit dim

At 5.35 the moon is failing to provide much usable light, but the track is so good as it follows a broad, flat spur top that I keep pottering along in the gloaming, practicing using peripheral vision to pick out where the track runs. Eventually though (ie 15 minutes) it starts dropping and I give in and put on my brand new Petzl Tikka head torch (does the trick fine - not as many functions as my Black Diamond but feels a bit more robust).

The thing about torch light travel is that your world closes in to a small area of light and you lose awareness of what's outside it. That's just fine for the 300m climb up to the Gentle Annie Track.

This part of track is old and familiar. I do think it should be renamed Totara Track Creek though. I don't know what wizardry the early track builders practiced but they managed to follow a spur with a creek running down it.  A fair proportion of the climb is splashing up a mossy, clay, rooty watercourse.

Finally, at 6.30 I reach the top just as a chap comes waltzing up the Gentle Annie on his way to Powell Hut - the first and last person I see for the day. He's not about to pause for a chat and I'm pretty keen to get on my way down.

Translation: 1 hour thirty = fifty minutes

This part of the track is of 'Great Walk' standard i.e. disability access bar the hand rails. I can switch off and potter down, too weary to trot.

Part of my brain suggests going up to Rocky Lookout, the other part suggests that that idiot part should shut up, but loses out. It's four days from the full moon so there's enough light to make out the surrounding landscape, but not what you would call enchanting.

A few sections of the downward trail are at just the right pitch to rustle up a desultory trot, but on the flats all I can muster is a stiff potter. At last at 7.23, 12 hours and 20 minutes after setting out, I'm at the car park. Departure is delayed a little though, as the car has iced up already.

The Rimutaka traffic is uncharacteristically sparse and it's a quick trip home to remove boots, find that damned piece of rock and fall into a hot bath.