This text was read by OCR from a scanned newsletter and has not been proofread yet, so expect odd characters and mistakes.
CLATRE SILCOCK
October had arrived and with it the last long weekend for the year. A chance to escape those unpleasant northwesterlies and the crowds and noise assosclated with the Waterfront Race and exchange it for the peace and tranquility of Nelson Lakes National Park.
Last minute packing before work, a mad dash down the hiil to the station followed by a harrowing 9 minute train ride during which a brain-dead commuter attempted to attach himself to the spike of my ice-axe, set the pace for the day. We arrived at the ferry terminal uncharacteristically early only tc hear a foreign, almost non-English speaking voice over the public address system advise that in keeping with NZR tradition for long weekends the ferry was running an hour and a half late!!
Entertainment in the form of rocket balloons was provided by Bill, and several Tongue and Meats restored our faith in Railways snacks by eating countless pies and surviving the ordeal.
The time to board the ferry finally arrived and with it came the start of our cool, calm and collected Chief Guide's dilemma: 42 people travelling on one ticket! Miraculously no-one was left behind and a group of us quickly incarcerated ourselves in a corner of the bar. After a nice rough crossing the lights af Picton finally appeared and we disembarked to search far packs and bus before the drive to St Arnaud.
Competition was fierce for a place on the floor of the shelter but soon everyone was stacking ZZZ's, some louder than others ! Saturday morning saw us reluctantly extracting ourselves from warm pits to make our legs fair game for the local sandflies. Some frantic packing was followed by a game of scrag using Peter Jackson's lumbar roll as a ball.
The lausch trip up Lake Rotoiti afforded us magnificent views of the St Arnaud Range and Eric's FE trip’s proposed route, but all too soon people and packs were deposited in an untidy heap on the jetty at Lake Head Hut. After a regroup and pig-out session at the hut we set off up the Travers Valley in sheep fashion having managed to pick up a few strays in the form of Anita and David's troops.
The next couple of hours passed in a blur of boots and packs, music blaring in my ears until a suitable lunch spot on a grassy river flat presented itself. The “serious climbers" <David Humm's lot) joined us - "the laid-back climbers" (Lyndsay Fletcher's lot) for lunch. The tone of the conversation seldom raised itself above sewer level,
After a valiant attempt to devour the edible contents of my pack during the lunch stop, the inevitable could no longer be avoided and we continued our sheep trek up the Travers Valley with the troops periodically jostling for positions behind our illustrious leader, Rest stop entertainment consisted of watching 3 grown men performing various styles of karate kicks on poor hapless (thankfully dead) trees. The infamous John Tait hut eventually materialised out of the trees and the 7 packs lined up outside confirmed that we had indeed been beaten by the “serious climbers", We staggered into the hut, eyes lighting up at the sight of mattresses on camfy looking bunks but were promptly informed by our unrelenting leader not to get too comfortable as we still had a 2 hour walk up to Cupola Basin Hut ahead of us. Dissension in the ranks, fuelled by teasing from the serious climbers was stamped on by our leader and after a quick scoff we once again donned our packs, gritted our teeth and left John Tait hut a few minutes after David and Co who had decided ta make camp 10 minutes up the track. As +. neared their chosen campsite we observed David's troops standing to attention, ice axes pointed to the sky and the tune of "The Last Post" being hummed. Inspired by this military salute we picked up the pace as we made our weary way to Cupola Basin. A slight scenic deviation to view a split gorge pointed out to us by cur leader was widely appreciated by the troops but the rest stop was over all too soon and once again we continued our way upward. The troops thoughts began to wander to cosy huts, comfortable bunks, tasty dinners etc and a couple of self-confessions of B.G.S's and one I can’t repeat could be heard. Finally, after what felt like a lifetime cur efforts were rewarded and we emerged from the trees to the welcome sight of Cupola Basin Hut. Luck was on our side as there were 5 empty bunks for the 5 weary but happy troops.
A delicious dinner and an early night concluded a tiring day and some were heard ta murmur wishes of rain in the valley below to pay a certain group back for their ribbing!
The sound of hail on the roof in the early hours of the morning put smiles on our sieepy faces and we went back to sleep hoping that the “serious lads" weren't getting too wet.
At 7.30am we were awoken by what we initially thought was a herd of stray elephants but turned out to be “the serious climbers" stopping in for a quick brew on their way to the summit of Mt Cupola and then on to Mt Hopeless. The troops were impressed ~ two peaks in a day - how we secretly wished we were good enough to da it too ! But alas, the weather was being particulariy uncooperative and a reassesment of the situation resulted in the mission being aborted and they stayed to keep us company for the day which passed in the usual fashion of bad-taste jokes, crass tales etc. Hothing and no-one was safe from abuse. Trips to the long-drop in the rain were made easier by Bill's trusty umbrella. Dan, John and James ventured outside for a stroll in the afternoon and a few of us wandered up into the basin to have a closer look at the clouds and mist! Snowball fights sparked off by boredom kept us occupied for some time and Rex, David, Chris and Tony kept themselves amused by spending an hour throwing snowballs at a dead tree. A plan to ambush Dan, John and James ended in failure when we realized we'd been spotted.
-a-
David and Co set off to return to their camp in the valley below in the late afternoon as the weather began to clear. By sunset there wasn't a cloud in the sky and the beauty was marred only by the disappointment that our objective, the ascent of Mt Cupola, was not acheived. Several hours later as we gazed at the moonlight on the surrounding mountains someone was heard to say in jest "how about a moonlight climb of Cupola". The reaction was instantaneous and unanimous and before long we had formulated a plan that would see us getting up at 2am and leaving the hut at 2.30am in near perfect canditions heading for the summit of Mt Cupola. We climbed mostly in silence, punctuated only by Dan breaking through the crust and comments of how we couldn't wait to tell the “serious climbers" about our ascent. Qur objective was acheived in time for sunrise on the summit amidst shouts of appreciation at the magnificent views. We reluctantly descended arriving back at the hut by 7.30am.
Five very satisfied climbers left Cupola Hut at 9am for the walk out to St Arnaud to meet the transport and cf course rub a little salt into the wounds of our fellow “serious climbers".
Thanks troops for a thoroughly enjoyable trip.
Those on the trip: Lyndsay Fletcher (leader), Claire Silcock, Dan Keller, Bill Bristow, André Schmidt.
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