This text was read by OCR from a scanned newsletter and has not been proofread yet, so expect odd characters and mistakes.
TARH RIDGE AND OTHER PLACES Lyndsay Fletcher We all tell ourselves that this tramping lark is for pleasure. Of course it should be, as only masochists would pursue a past-time that was not enjoyable. Having said that then, we must categorise ourselves individually. You see, there are some of us. who firmly believe that a weekend's tramping must consist of good weather and track sonditions, great company, comfortable overnight shelter, ample food and enough exercise to cleanse the body. Then there are others that pit themselves against unenviable tasks and goals that mean the complete opposite to the above. [ believe in the saying “variety ie the spice of life” and so fit into both categories. Mind you, as one gets older and you end up saying "been there, done that", the former of the above is much higher on the agenda. Egos play a strong role for some. They never let a chance go by if there is a challenge to one's physical and mental strength Jow lets see which category Eric Evans, Glen and I fit into after I tell you a little of my last tramp. -Rendezvous the same time same place Friday night. No-one is late and the drivers check with ones who know the road end. ~Proceed to Waignawa via the Rimutaka's, Thank you Kate for attacking the corners, so preventing car sickness. ~Out of the comforts of the van and into the night pushing against a strong nor'wester with the occassional shower. The others pitch camp along side the vehicles. -Two hours later and we step anto the verandah of the new Mitre Flats Hut. Chris is a little behind due to the lack of sleep in the past week.
-On gaes a hot brew. Glen tests out the fire praof bench top by having the Wisper light spread flaming spirits from its plumbing. I get out the trusty Coleman, -Packs on in time to see that daylight brings a clear sky. A chance to clear our lungs of the cooking fumes given off by Chris’s breakfast. -Screams of discomfort as one takes the first crossing of South Mitre Stream. Where are those convenient boulders? ~Straight up now to mid-King Biv. Memories of the other great times had journeying this beautiful open ridge. ~Regroup at the bush edge. That wind is very cold despite the sun. Chris decides to head back as he's not in condition. -Patches af snow and ice cover the leather wood and tussock. Boy that wind has gat a bite to it. Glad 1 put on my wind breaker before but why did I leave ny wetsuit booties at home. -Even the ground is covered in ice at the top and we are now up against the full force af the wind. "Have a drink" says Eric as he hands me the water bottle after having filled it at the tarn. "No thankyou" I reply as my feet are frozen and my legs are starting too. -Along to South King and then down to Dorset Creek. Had to stop to put on my overtrou as it was brass monkey weather. Then I see Glen walking towards me. “Sorry wrong way, back up to the top" says he. The mist had us going along to Broken Axe Pinnacles, ~Got it right and so down to Dorset Creek to have lunch. The effort was worth it. This place always reminds me of that feeling you get when you know you have made it to a remote wilderness. -Pick up the track to Dorset Hut and proceed up yet again. Who put all this cutty grass aver the track. Oops no more track. Oh well, push on up through the leather wood as I am close to the hut now, Hey, Glen has been this way too. -The mist has cleared from the tops now. Out come the cameras ta capture the back drop of the range behind the hut. ~E.T.A. Tarn Ridge Hut 1630. Not too much height to gain along Dorset Ridge. ~After the saddles Tarn Ridge appears. Wow, the switch is set to push the wind to gale force. The hut is a welcome sight. -The hut is cold and damp. I measure 3 degrees C, With gale force winds autside, and plenty of hot drinks followed by a hearty macaroni cheese dinner inside, we are content. -The wind is blowing just as hard, if not more so, come morning. -Nothing for it but to go out via Girdlestone and Mitre peaks. Full storm gear needed as it is raining sideways. Plenty of practice for hang gliding - without the glider. -My short legs not able to cover the ground as fast as Eric's or Glen's. So I press ou knowing that I can go forwards sometimes despite the efforts of the wind making me go left. -Rendezvous on the leeward side of Mt Girdlestone. E.T.A. bush edge 1100 hours. Only another hour and a half. On my own till Mitre Flats Hut. -Something flashes before my eyes. Ch its Erica sleeping foam flying through the air. No, Eric is not attached. Sea good Samaritan to the rescue. Lose heaps cf height down the slope after it. Two goes and I am able to pounce on it. ~Onward to climb up and over Mitre. The wind is going in my direction this time. Nothing like being ‘pushed uphill. Wothing like being pushed aff the edge between Mitre and Peggy's Peak. -Yea, downhill to the protection of the beech forest. Glad to get the overtrou aff. Boy this ridge is just so beautiful. Lovely big Rimus and Totaras. -Worked up quite an appetite. Able to have a lang and plentiful lunch at the hut. Eric said that I needn't have saved his foam. “About to get my Thermarest soon" says he. He hadn't even noticed that he'd lost it from the back of his pack.
-~Only the walk out to the van now. The others already gone home. Able to look back and see the ranges. “You would not want to be up in that lat,” I said, watching the hogs-backs covering the tops. -So home to Wellington, stopping off at Carterton to enable Murray and Kate to stock up their pantry at a local orchard. ~An excellent trip far $37.
EDITOR'S NOTE - Tramping alone, as referred to in Lyndsay's trip report, is nat endorsed by the Ciub.