This text was read by OCR from a scanned newsletter and has not been proofread yet, so expect odd characters and mistakes.
Lack of punters for trios into the Tararuas for the weekend of 4- 6 November saw a combining of Easys, Mediums, and Fits into one happy Medium group for a trip to Tutuwai and Block XVI_ (16 for those who didn’t take Latin at school).
At7pm Friday evening, four of us clung to our gear beside the Railway Station to prevent the strong (but gentle by comparison to later) wind from taking gaiters and hats away down the Quay. A few minutes later our transport anived in the form of Eric and his car. No average two door family hatchback this, but a mother of all cars that easily fits five trampers and their packs, and still plenty of room to swing a possum.
Dinner, for those who hadn't yet eaten, was a hot pie at the last Dairy out of the Hutt Valley, and soon we were off again towards Kiwi Ranch where we were to leave the car and commence our tramp.
KiwiRanch was awash with hundreds of Karate kids. The noise from the dining room was deafening, but soon we were away towards the main track to Smiths Creek. After a couple of hours of pottering along in semidarkness, and then under torchlight; we reached a comfortable campsite about ten minutes up river from Smiths Creek Shelter. .
On Saturday there wasn’t much enthusiasm for heading up to Marchant Ridge so we strolled along beside the river towards Tutuwai Hut. The main reason for the lack of enthusiasm was the steadily increasing wind gusts that were roaring down the valley and the steady drizzle. We were at Tutuwai Hut well before midday. DOC and previous trampers had done a good job; the hut was very neat and tidy with a new coat of paint, gas, and a verandah.
After such an exhausting morming and along lunch, most of us slept for the afternoon, lulled to sleep by the sound of the wind and the rain lashing the roof. But by 5pm we were awake and keen to. build up an appetite before dinner, so we strolled along to Cone Hut and back. Once again the same group of tidy trampers must have been up to Cone Hut as a very clean and tidy Cone Hut made a pleasant stopover for ten minutes before we headed back to Tutuwai.
Over dinner stories were swapped, including Bill’s one about an unfortunate woman who had gone into hospital to have a gangrenous leg amputated. Due to some horrendous mistake, the wrongleg hadbeen amputated! Realising the mistake, the surgeon had no option but to amputate the other leg also. Being American, the woman sued the hospital for millions of dollars - but lost! The reason, Bill explained, was she just didn’t have a leg to stand on.
Sunday looked promising. The rain had stopped, the river was down substantially, and the wind was only gusting to Force 8 perhaps. So we headed back down the track and over the swingbridge before tuming right and going up the Block XVI track. “Worse than Garden Road”, was James’s only comment between gasps. But eventually we reached the ridge line, stopped for a quick snack, and tumed towards home. By now the wind was rising again. Fortunately the track keeps mainly to the sheltered side of the ridge so at first we weren't too bothered by the wind, but at times, the shear force of the wind could be seen by the movement of large trees, felt underfoot as the roots were being pulled from the ground, and heard from the rumblings down in the valley. For perhaps 10 or 15 minutes the track leaves the relative shelter of the bush and at this point, progress was slowed down by the regular need to crouch down and grab any piece of vegetation until the gusts passed.
Finally the track turned to the left and at last we were heading down to the few remaining blocks of concrete and fireplace that used to be Dobson Hut. Here we stopped briefly and finished lunches that had been started further up, but postponed due to the conditions. The worst of the wind was now behind us. “Just as well it wasn’t raining too!” I remarked, minutes before it started to rain. And then it poured and poured and poured, making for a rather miserable last hour or so from Dobsons back to Kiwi Ranch.
Once back at the car, the packs and parkas were chucked into the boot and we quickly jumped in. Talk of cold drinks and ice creams that had been prominent up Block XVI was now replaced by talk of hot showers, baths, and cups of tea. But they had to be put onice for ~ a little while longer yet when Eric's car failed to start. Bravely, Eric leapt out into the elements once more and spent the next half hour under the bonnet, whilst the other four of us passed around chocolate biscuits to keep morale up. However, soon the fuel filter was unblocked, the car started, and Eric was rewarded with a biscuit and we were off back to Wellington.
Windy punters” Graham (scribe), Daniel, Bill, James, and Eric.