This text was read by OCR from a scanned newsletter and has not been proofread yet, so expect odd characters and mistakes.
By Struan Little No Fred. Here we are at the roadend after the most perfect Easter since Moas roamed the land and No Fred! Fred was our transport back to Takaka to pick up the Duchess and the ferry. Fred, the man I had rung three times the previous week and sent detailed maps and instructions of the pick-up point. Sure Fred had been “unavailable” on Sunday night because he’d had a few drinks. But this was midday Easter Monday! I should have known. You don’t have perfect Easter trips. Stumbling out of the truck on Easter Friday and looking up at the Anatoki Peaks in Northwest Nelson. It was fine! You could see the peaks. The weather was so good that even the Tararuas may have only been partly~-cloudy. Our party sauntered up onto the tops, admiring the views descending in the evening in the Waingaro River to a blazing log fire. Enthusiasm prevailed (except of course, for Harry) so we were away by 7.30 the next morning racing past Lake Stanley to an idyllic picnic by the river lounging in the sun. Then it was a pleasant trip up the Anatoki River following clear deer trails, darting in and out of patches of beech and sunlight. A cowardly wasp attack leaves Stuart comatose on the ground. He feels nauseous and weak, but I gently explain to him that weather like this has to be used to the utmost. We forge on to another delightful campsite and a superb middle-eastern rice pudding. Around the campfire David entertains us with stories of his British flatmates (details on request - but not publishable in this magazine - ask about the "poo trick"). Another early start is rewarded by a spot of route-finding bother. We are allegedly sidling up a face to Adelaide Tarn, but somehow we are crawling through a jumble of boulders held together by bush lawyer and bonsai beech. We have a number of consultations which begin "Well, anyone got any better ideas?" After some time, we all agree that we are traversing a band of scrub amongst the bluffs. The North Islanders start to talk nostalgically of Ruahine leatherwood. Adelaide Tarn was reached for lunch and a spectacular crossing of the tops ensued with views of the jumble of pinnacles and peaks that have evocative names like the Dragon’s Teeth and the Drunken Sailors. Our route takes us to Boulder Lake. Unfortunately, the weather is simply too good, which means as evening draws near a thick fog blankets the lake and surrounds. The party starts to eye their leader with disapproval, knowing that if the fog persists we will never find our way over the tops and into the safe hands of Fred’s mini-van.
Our last day involves getting up at 5am and away by 6.20am. The fog miraculously thins and we are climbing up onto the Quartz Range with the orange sun bathing a vista of peaks in a glowing Mantle. The views are stunning, the weather perfect! We spend plenty of time on the highest peak taking in the superb scenery. And then, with time running short, it’s a race to meet Fred.
No Fred. By a stroke of luck we have arranged to pick up another party’s vehicle and so we use this to search for the elusive Fred. After several kilometres we see a dust cloud on another road. It is a van, emblazoned with the crest of Fred. Fred is relaxed and says he had a spot of trouble with the map. Seems as though Fred doesn’t do much transport of trampers. Main source of income is moving drunks from one country pub: to another on Friday nights. Sure we’re late and might miss the ferry - but he can drop us off at the Globe Hotel just out of Takaka. Great pub. And for only a dollar each, he can take us to the Takaka Hotel. Mercifully, we’re not that late and Lyndsay is patiently waiting with the Duchess and a lentil pie! Now face it. Aren’t stories about fine weather trips boring? That’s why it always rains on me - at least the trip reports are better to read.
Party: Stuart "Sting" Palmer, David "Poo-trick" Christie, Murray "Footrot" Middleton, Di "I’m not fit enough" Howchow, Harry "5am? Are you joking?" Smith and Sunshine Struan, the Cloudless Wonder.