This text was read by OCR from a scanned newsletter and has not been proofread yet, so expect odd characters and mistakes.
TEENAGE TRAMPING TRIP NORTHERN TARARUAS (CATTLE RIDGE) 12-14 MARCH 1993. Well! Having got all these adjectives beginning with "T" off their chests, three other keen teenage trampers and I met at the Railway Station on a rather bleak Friday night in March for what was to turn out to be the best WT&MC teenage tramping trip ever (so far). Unfortunately the prospect of a fine weekend in the Tararuas (without Struan “the prince of rain" Little) enticed more people along than. could be jammed into the Duchess, so our group and the Fits were forced, after much persuasion, to travel in the fast,. smooth comfort of a "Super Shuttle" to the Putara roadend in the Northern Tararuas.
After our luxury journey, we were all feeling rather spritely and set off for an invigorating frolic in the rain to find ourselves a campsite for the night (leaving the Easy's feeling suitable guilty for hogging the back of the truck).
Saturday morning arrived sooner than seemed right and proper and the rest of the group were ready at the embarrassingly early hour of around 7:50am. Despite my more leisurely pace in breakfasting and packing up we were still on our way shortly after 8:30am at a rather spritely pace. It was rather hot going on the climb up to the mist-shrouded Cattle Ridge, but we marched on, with Ben "I love water" Nicholson encouraged by the thought of a swim in the promised tarn just before the hut. This quickly subsided when he saw that the promised “refreshing alpine lake" turned out to be more of a stagnant murky swamp!
We reached Cattle Ridge Hut in record time, and indeed had our midday feast at this cosy dwelling. Although we had already reached our destination for the night, the day seemed incomplete without any walking after lunch, so we went for a quick stroll along the top of the ridge. At one stage we sat in the mist on a small rocky outcrop for about half an hour watching a fight between a fairly large worm and some kind of bug/beetle thing. The bug had large fangs and was sucking the blood out of the worm, and the worm, which by now was starting to go pale, was trying to wrestle free from the bug's grip. Such are the joys of tramping!!
A short time later we returned to the hut and lazed away the remainder of the afternoon listening to my radio, eating and chatting to the other friendly tramper who had arrived at the hut. When a leak in the roof was discovered to be dripping on innocent tramper's pits, it was time to call on my McGyver skills and convert an old Pepsi bottle into the world's most sophisticated, hi-tech PED (Precipitation Entrapment Device).
Before long we began on the evening meal, consisting of cheese and crackers for starters, followed by spaghetti bolognese and then cheesecake for dessert. Having polished off these culinary masterpieces, I went outside to do the dishes and was pleasantly surprised to see that the mist had dropped and it was a clear, starry night. By the time we had taken in the views, our pits were beckoning and everyone crashed around 10:30pm.
I awoke on Sunday just before the sun rose above the horizon to a beautiful, clear day on the tops. After breakfast it was noticed that the mist in the valley below us was rapidly rising, so we quickly dashed up to and along the top of the ridge again to catch some fantastic views. On return to the hut we packed up our gear ready to go. It was at this stage that I paid a visit to the ablution block. It had a rather accentuated rock to it - almost a rather homely “rocking chair" feel about it. However, it had no other endearing features and would only score a 6 out of 10!
Shortly after, we set off back down the hill we had ascended the previous day, commenting: that we wouldn't like to climb up something this steep!! We arrived back at Roaring Stag Lodge with several hours to spare until we were due to be picked up at the roadend by our luxury limousine, so we decided to go and search for the small lake/swamp marked on the map about 1.5 kms north of Roaring Stag on a peninsular between Ruapae Stream and the Ruamahanga River.
We dropped our packs and headed off up the river in search of this mysterious body of water. On the way up we saw some hunters, but I felt relatively safe that they wouldn't mistake me for a deer with my fluorescent orange shorts on. All the while, David was trying to spot trout in the pools, and was heard repeatably to mumble. "! wish I'd brought my spinning rod". Also, Chris developed a liking for pulling dead eels out of the river, much to the surprise of everyone else.
Shortly afterwards we found the mysterious hidden oasis, but it was more like a swamp really. Having completed our mission, we raced off back down the river to where we had left our packs for lunch. Ben was enjoying the walk down the river so much that he threw himself in headfirst - although this was} not really intentional. After lunch we hooned up the hill to the junction with the tack from Herepai at which point we uite by chance met the Fits coming from the other direction. We bolted back down to the Mangatainoka Valley jand at the suggestion of Ben "I love rivers"
Nicholson, we decided to go out via the river, rather than the track, as we still had plenty of time 'till we were due to be picked up. John from the Fits also joined us at this stage and before long we found a nice refreshing swimming hole for a quick dip for all but Dave who piked out.
_ Before long we reached the roadend to be met once more by our luxury transport for a quick trip back to the metropolis, stopping only for a quick bite of shark and spud on the way home.
The punters were: Ben “I love rivers” Nicholson David "I wish I'd brought my spinning rod" Mardell Chris "I like catching dead eels" Harrop Matthew "Bring all the luxuries" Grainger (Leader and Scribe)