This text was read by OCR from a scanned newsletter and has not been proofread yet, so expect odd characters and mistakes.
Now what could be more pointless than spending a superbly fine Easter perched on top of the St Arnaud Range with Eric, recently demoted Chief Guide? Quite a bit really. And yes, it would include a weekend in the Tararuas. Well, there we were, five keen and eager companions, lounging in our pits on the shores of Lake Rotoiti, looking a very long way up to where we were going to spend Easter. Obviously it was going to rain, but it couldn't start yet because it needed to entice us with fully-laden Easter egg-crammed packs 3000 feet up the side of a hill first. And sure enough, upon reaching the bushline, it clagged in, showing just how brutal nature really is. - But then it cleared. There was obviously something even more brutal in store. And there was. Discovered at approximately 5000 feet at lunchtime, was a boulder in Struan's pack. Much mirth and merriment was shared by four out of five members of the party. A campsite beside the Arnst Tarns gave plenty of time for divine vengeance, Step One: Eric has the benefit of a lonely, cold vigil beside his primus attempting to coax flame out of it unsuccessfully. Step Two: the next day, gazing along the ridge, the party is treated to the sight of a human figure standing, legs apart, doubled over with arms out for balance. This is not some post-modernist sculpture. This is Anita proverbially vomiting her little heart out. "Sorry Anita - no water until the next tarn." Finally, after a superb day of knife-edge ridges and. panoramic views we find an idyllic spot to rest our weary limbs, gazing thousands of feet below to John Tait Hut. Dinner was spent discussing the morrow's options.
There was a distinct lack of enthusiasm for sidling across the scree. On the other hand, the ridge didn’t look like particularly easy travel either. Keith's contribution was to illuminate us that he was unaware that cheese could survive for a day outside a refrigerator. As the route-finding argument raged, Keith had another slice of processed cheese.
The champion rock-depositing-in-pack team of Eric and Anita led the way shortly after dawn. They chose the ridge route. Keith swallowed his doubts, a cupful of bran, a slice of Chesdale and followed. Harry the Sniffer ambled behind. Struan looked up to the ridge, reflected on his fitness and took the big sidle. He was not surprised to see Harry following his route a few minutes later.
Eight chapters of his book later, Struan asked Harry if maybe the others had found a route on the other side of the ridge. But no! A mere two hours later, exhausted, swearing, the remainder of the I troops puffed their way towards us. Harry and Struan subsequently discovered that Eric was so disappointed with his route that he head-butted a rock, explaining the dried blood on his face. Harry was enthusiastic to do a full St Arnaud Range traverse, but the exertions of the morning had eroded party enthusiasm, so it was a headlong (and often head first) crash down into the Travers Valley. We had heard stories of the wasps in the park, but hadn't seen any yet. Anita was first to see one, and it stung her. In the wasp's defence, it suspected that she wanted to put a boulder into it’s pack - which is not such good karma for a wasp. After a pleasant campfire and the sacrifice of Struan’s world-famous Racing Jandals into the river, the team put heads down and started to think about the bus. Thinking is disturbed by the pitter-patter of torrential rain. The pace picks up and soon the whole team is huddled safely at the lakeside picnic shelter, devouring 2 litres of icecream. Struan is ecstatic that his prediction of rain is yet again proven. The trip home is relatively uneventful, punctuated only by demands for volunteers to write trip reports, and Austin’s now legendary comment, "I'm a public serwant - I never meet deadlines", It didn’t do her any good though, and so if there isn‘t a trip report by her in this newsletter, ask her why.
Punters: Eric Evans, Anita Catchpole, Harry Smith, Keith Strode-Penny, Struan Little, Large Boulder, Assorted Wasps.
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