This text was read by OCR from a scanned newsletter and has not been proofread yet, so expect odd characters and mistakes.
The word was out - Dorset Hut would be no more!! Nostalgia glimmered in Gary's eyes as he launched into some reminiscing about past adventures in the area and he was soon speaking of a desire to retum before DOC did the deed! The Club had scheduled just such a trip there in early August and it seemed that this could be our last opportunity to spend a night there before DOC removes the hut, For Gary it was a pure nostalgia visit but for me it was a first and presumably last!
Enthusiasm for the trip was assisted by the appearance of a big, fat HIGH which sneaked across the Tasman and conveniently parked itself over much of NZ by the Friday night. Things were looking good and even the stress of a hard week, 3 punctures (2 on the way to work and 1 on the way home) and a frantic dash to pack, scoff dinner and make it to the Duchess couldn't dampen our spirits.
An unscheduled tour of the back roads of the Wairarapa in search of the elusive Kaituna Road finally brought us to the roadend and we clambered down out of the Duchess into the chilly night. Fortunately for me, Gary wasn't feeling too great so we changed our plans from the intended stroll into Mitre Flats and decided to camp beside the river near the start of the track. To our surprise, the Mediums stomped past a short time later, bound for Mitre Flats.
The moming arrived and presented us with a superb clear, sunny day. Before long we were racing along the Barra Track when, there before us, was the familiar sight of a Tongue & Meat fly which contained the prostrate and soundly sleeping forms of Damian, K) and-Wayne. Confused, screwed up faces emerged from their pits and ! chuckled as Gary untied part of the fly before we continued on our way. We half expected to stagger upon more of the Mediums as we went but upon reaching Mitre Flats Hut we were greeted with Woody's smiling face and the tale of their exploits to reach the said hut. Sounded like a nightmare to us and after a chat and a snack we were on our way strolling through the beautiful bush on our way up to Mitre. The gently rising ridge soon gave way to a little gut-buster which threatened to explode my lungs but as we emerged from the bush the views of the tops and the valley now far below were excellent. A little mist here and there added atmosphere to an already picturesque scene and we were soon climbing above it towards.the lone figure of B) who was on a photo-mission. A fresh dump of snow the previous day added grandeur to the scene and we kept a respectable distance behind B) for a while as he kindly plugged the steps for us.
Lunchtime saw us sprawled in the sun on Mitre enjoying a panorama of spectacular views of the Tararuas, Ruahines, Mt Ruapehu and even Mt Tapuaenuku. Brilliant! Bj joined us for lunch and noted with envy our little squares of snowfoam, designed to save the. butt from a nasty freezing experience! Gary-had been most reluctant to compromise his HVTC real bloke image initially but he is now a converted bottie-insulation fan. Several photos -. later we detached ourselves from the reverie and donned our packs for the next stage in the scheme of things. Brockett was soon reached by which time some of the Mediums had arrived on top of Mitre. A wave and a farcall, then it was on to Girdlestone and more photos before dropping down to the tumoff to Tam Ridge Hut. A few more minor bumps was all that remained between us and Dorset Hut so we set off with renewed vigour, arriving in plenty of time to catch a stunning sunset on Girdlestone.
Dorset is a great little hut in such a neat area.and even more attractive is the fact that few people seem to visit it. After a decent helping of Mac Cheese followed by dessert, we stepped outside for a spot of stargazing. It was an awesomely clear night and the sky was awash with stars but the brisk air eventually drove us back inside. We awoke to high overcast conditions which cleared to reveal clear, sunny skies and we were soon bidding a sad farewell to Dorset Hut. Over breakfast Gary took me on a reminiscing tour of long-past adventures which included visits to Dorset and the surrounding area. "You're beginning to sound like your Dad’, I commented, which brought him back to reality and he replied, ‘Im not that bad, am I?" How cute, I thought, kids always think their parents prattle on like scratched records about their golden past and dim dark memories, but he's not doing so bad himself! "Have I told you that one before?" he asked and I chuckled as ! patiently shook my head and waited for the next adventure instalment! We had decided to go back out the same way we went in because since it was a nice fine day, it seemed a sacrilege to spend it anywhere but on the tops. As we trotted back along the ridge we spotted the four members of the FE Northern Crossing trip a short distance ahead. A munch-stop on Mitre and a last wistful glance at the spectacular views ‘saw us descending to the bushline and the stroll down the ridge. We caught up with Matthew Craig from the FE trip who had blisters on his toes but when he saw us he put on an unprecedented burst of speed and soon disappeared in the distance. Gary and I cast suspicious glances at each other and sniffed the air for BO. we couldn't think of any other reason why he would have taken such fright at the sight of us, the lowly Fit trip!! Upon reaching the Flats we joined the FE's for lunch in the sun (yes, this is the Tararuas!) and Matthew was very noticeable by his absence. It took some cajoling to convince Harry that it wouldn't reflect well on him if Matthew had become geographically embarrassed, so eventually Harry hauled himself to his feet.and strolled off toward the Barton Track in search of the errant Matthew. A happy ending was had here as Matthew had realised his diversion (m-mistake) and was heading back towards the Flats when Harry found him. The river crossing brought us back to reality as we wandered back out along that hideous sidle track known as the Barra to our waiting Duchess and the trip home to a hot shower and TV. Ah, another memorable and enjoyable weekend in the Tararuas..........+.. and not a raindrop in sight! The only explanation for the unseasonably dry conditions in the Tararuas can be that Struan is in another hemisphere, which I might add has been devastated by "once in 100 years" floods. Thanks Struan!!
Punters: Gary Goldsworthy and Claire Silcock (Scribe).