This text was read by OCR from a scanned newsletter and has not been proofread yet, so expect odd characters and mistakes.
JEZ'S PROMISES. “11-13 JUNE 1993, a By Michael! Wood . I hadn't been on a club trip for many years, and felt it was time to get out again. A medium trip to Harris Creek seemed like a good way to ease back into it. Jez told us we'd be going in.via Baber Creek, over to Dick Creek, and on to Harris Creek hut. The next day we would go out down the track the Fasy's would take.in. Finally, he promised a bit of a grovel, and some rain.
We got to the road end on Friday night, and slept under fly's between a locked hut and the dam. After breakfast, during which Jez was given lessons on how to drive his. brand.new stove. we headed over the dam and followed the track around the lake shore. After ten minutes we decided there was-no need for all the ups and downs of the track, and went onto the lake bed, as the lake seemed to be almost empty. This was the first of our grovels, as the mud was somewhat slippery. We finally made our way up Baber Creek, although we didn't always know exactly where we were. At one stage there were two opinions expressed as to where we were, and both were eventually shown to be wrong! The first time we crossed the creek, we managed to keep our feet dry. Not too long after that though, we were only worried if the water rose to those nether regions that water as cold as that should never reach. David was a strange one though - he seemed to like the water so much that he lay in it- twice! We got to the final branch marked on the map, where we wanted to go left. Unfortunately, this route started immediately with a waterfall. After a bit we managed to get up it - Eric up one side, and me straight up the middle. Jez had a rope so that made it a little easier for the other two. to get up.
Then the grovelling became continuous. Some of the time we could go up the middle of the stream. Other times we had to clamber over the banks to get past obstructions like fallen trees. dust before the water ran out, we found a reasonably clear spot and stopped for lunch.
From the map we could tell that we had to go due south. I knew the magnetic deviation had to be taken into account, and before I could figure out what to do with it, Eric told me about ‘Grandma's Socks’ - Grid to Magnetic Subtract. The number came out to be 157, and following that took us over the saddle and down the other side. A lot more grovelling was involved here as Dick Creek was even more debris strewn than Baber. We finally got down Dick Creek, but not before Jez had lain in the stream. Then, just in sight of the track, I found myself lying in a pool with my pack pushing my face under the water - Jez was very quick to get his camera out to capture the moment. That night over dinner, we agreed that Jez had fulfilled his promise of a bit of a grovel, but - ha ha - it hadn't rained. While we were asleep though, it poured down. Next morning the rain was still pouring and the Mangahao River was wall to wall mud.
We finally all got sorted out - the four of us and the five Easy's - and set off. Ten minutes down the track we came across Dick Creek again. Only this time it was somewhat fuller - and brown. We couldn't cross where ‘the track went, so Eric and I tried upstream. We found a place where, together we could cross. We tried to find a way back by grovelling up a side stream and then climbing out. By the time we were twenty feet up with only a small punga between us and the top, I decided that falling, bouncing once, and landing in the stream was becoming very likely if we continued pushing. So back to Dick Creek we went. The only problem was that it had risen a foot while we were away, and we couldn't get back. We finally found a safe way up and got back to the track, only on the other side of the creek to our packs.
Jez went back to the-hut - the others had returned already - and got Kara's rope, which we used to get our packs across. While Jez went back to the hut, Eric and I went out to the road end. The lake that had been empty the previous morning was full and spilling by midday.
Following a trip out to the station, a number of phone calls, and a trip to Otaki and back, we returned Jez's van to the road end at about 5pm to find that the others had finally managed to get out. So, everyone was safe and I didn't have to call the Chief Guide to tell him that seven of his club members were stuck in the hills. A happy ending for all.
So, many thanks to. Jez Prior, trip leader {for keeping his promises with the grovel and the rain), and Eric (Grandma's Socks) and David for their company. I'll be back. .Michael Wood (scribe).