This text was read by OCR from a scanned newsletter and has not been proofread yet, so expect odd characters and mistakes.
by Bob Cockeram Are you all sitting comfortably? Good, then I will begin. "Once apon a time there was an expedition into the far snowy north, to the land of the wicked chief guide..." The nearest this team got to anything like a moonlight crossing was a moonlight serenade, laying in our pits farting as the wind howled outside Kime hut drifting the thigh high deep snow into the ever deepening "Trampers traps".
Most of the initial team played their jokers thursday night when southerlies obliterated the promising full moon from sight and dropped lots of very soft white fluffy stuff over the high Tararuas. Those that turned out on friday night to wander up to Fields Hut had failed to come up with plausible reasons for non~attendance and a late attempt by Harry to escape to the pub at an unscheduled diesel stop in Otaki was foiled in the nick of time. after a cool but rat free night in Fields Hut we emerged into Saturday to find the light rain of the previous evening had turned the bush into a winter wonderland and all hopes of crisp conditions underfoot had been nothing more than a figment of Paul’s fertile imagination kept ever heightened due to bringing a summer pit. Playing the Joker that morning we held our departure back until B.J. involved with some form of self expressionist photo crampon loosing hi-fi touting Kime hut solo experience plugged the trail for us and this especially benefitted Dalmar who being the "Youth" somehow found himself carrying most of the weekend’s gear. Not to be out smarted totally, B.J. waited over the horizon at a photo opportunity (beats me how you can take pictures in a blizzard) and the plugging was now a six man event. As the gradient increased so did the depth of the snow, and for all you prospective Alpine Instruction Course students - Don’t forget to ask Lyndsay about the "Gerard Technique", this new method of Alpine traversing is more likely to be seen in Freyberg Pool, its the first time I’ve seen anyone swim up a mountain side! A very cold group dragged themselves into Kime mid afternnoon and left the door open to let in some heat. Taking to heart collective responsibility and planning I crawled into my pit and went to sleep while the wind whistled on unabated. Nature became a temptress at dusk when the warm red glow of the dying sun fought its way through the cloud and resurrected Paul’s desire to salvage the day and continue onwards at night fall, I personally think though it had more to do with his need for a crap and a very cool longdrop. Happily Gerard played his joker and refused to drag us from our pits at the appointed hour due to further high wind (I did mention the farting at the beginning) and a moon once more shrouded by mist. Further plans were mooted about retreating via Penn Creek but once more I managed to drag a Fit trip down to my level and in brilliant conditions Sunday became a play in the snow day. Vistas both North and South added to the enjoyment as some of the older bigger boys in the party exited the high tops on their bums at high speed to flounder in the softer snow lower down the slopes. As with all fairy stories we had a happy ending but it will be brave princess that kisses Paul Critchley and changes him back from a frog. The Fairies: Paul Critchley, Harry Smith, Gerard Galvin, Dalmar Schafer and Bob Cockeram (scribe).