This text was read by OCR from a scanned newsletter and has not been proofread yet, so expect odd characters and mistakes.
WAITEWAEWAER - PROUT STREAM OCTOBER 14-16 Easy/ Medium We arrived at the road end to find a sign declaring “No Access". It was a warning we should have heeded. After gaining permission from the farmer we set eff to find a spot to camp. The weekend got off to a goad start when, within 10 minutes, we missed the bridge by about 5 metres and had to trudge through the river, ensuring wet boots and socks for the next morning. However a great campsite was found and a warm dry night was spent under the flies. Birte decided to join our trip after learning that Struan was serving up lime instant pudding, So we became quite an international affair with 4 kiwis, Birte from Germany and Dick and Dervile from Ireland. On Saturday we waited an hour for two others to join us before giving up hope and setting off. We had abandoned aur original plans and were boldly going to the West Waitewaewae River and out along the Waitewaewae track. The only probiem was locating the track we were supposed to be following. Our intrepid leader eventually found it and off we went, It wasn't long before we learnt the meaning of the word ‘undergrowth'. Fighting our way through bush that would have made Indiana Jones wince, treating bushlawyer with contempt and laughing at the cuts, bruises and scratches gained with every step, we reflected on the sadist who had called this an ‘Hasy' tramp. Cf course it started to rain before long. On through swamps, marsh, sludge, puddles, rain, quagmire, bogs, primeval ooze/sludge, wind and mist we pressed,
- 6§-
stopping only to re-find the track, often. Despite the ideal Tararua tramping conditions we bad reached what we though was Mick by lunchtime and stopped for a bite. Then it was onwards and upwards, finaliy leaving the bushline and bushlawyer only to stumble into leatherwood. Those of us without gaiters particularly enjoyed this.
By 4.30pm we had reached the trig station at Tuangata. (Dick knocked over a trig station on the way). Unfortunately the trig station was quite a bit off course from where we were supposed to be, and it was tog late ta get ta Walitewaewae flats before dark. Undaunted we followed a ridge in search of Waiohu lodge. However by 7.00pm the sun had disappeared, so we camped where we were - halfway down a ridge, on almost flat land that was almost big enough to take two fiies and was almost, but not quite, free of tree roots. We optimistically named our flies the Tararua International and the Hilton on the Hill.
Tired and muddy we were ordered to bed by our leader who cooked up the most wonderful lasagne and delivered it to us. The service at the Tararua International almost made up for the tree-root beds.
Of course it rained that night. We slept fitfully until 2am when Dervile was woken by a large volume of water pressing the fly down onto her face. Draining this provided the waterfall view that was missing and amused us for about an hour until we discovered what tent poles were for,
After that we slept soundly until awoken at 6.45am by Dick's watch playing "The Yellow Rose of Texas" —- twice. Surprisingly it wasn't raining and we set off again. Our leader navigated us precisely up a ridge to a track, whereupon there was general ecstacy and celebration at having a wide, bush-free vehicle track to walk on. We had a leisurely stroll down to the suspension bridge on the way to Otaki forks where we dried aut the flies and waited to hijack Murray and the truck. Eventually the fit trip reached Otaki forks, after sleeping in. Then we were off home. Despite the unforseen detour and bad weather, the great company, lots of chocolate biscuits and an unflappable leader made it all worthwhile and very enjoyable. Survivors: Dervile Pyper, Dick Pyper, Birte Mauss, Graeme Powell, Tony Alexander, Debbie Douglas and Murray Arthur-VWorsop.