This text was read by OCR from a scanned newsletter and has not been proofread yet, so expect odd characters and mistakes.
F riday night saw six keen and eager pairs of legs attack the climb up to Field Hut with enthusiasm. Given the strong wind forecast when we left Wellington, we opted for - the night at Field as opposed to the original destination of Kime Hut. Rounding a corner two red eyes glared out at me, as if to question why am I up here in MY territory at this time of night? Those red eyes were just a few of the many possums that we encountered on the trip up to Field. Icouldn’t help wondering what else lurked in the bush, especially since my walking companion mentioned his time tramping in Africa, and how one would never walk at night through the bush over there because of all the nocturnal hunters out there seeking food. And being dark, my imagination was very.creative. _ At Field Hut we found four Tararua clubbies. They were tramping that weekend, but hadn’t quite decided where they were tramping to. (A minor technicality - after all they had decided that they were ending at Otaki Forks, so that was something.)
By Andrew Devlin
Prakash informed us of his “ilIness” which included a lot of gory details, which I won't mention further, except to say that we thought the “illness” could be ebola? ... maybe that was why he initially had one corner of the hut all to himself?
The next morning, we awoke to the sound of our fellow inhabitants deciding on where they should walk to. They had got down to two options now, so were making good progress! However, as they had decided to start their loud discussion before it was properly light, we also got woken at an unearthly hour. The climb up to Kime kept us to time (maybe I should write a poem?!), however, it was not I the best of walking conditions. Due to the mist and wind we had no view. In fact at times, I could only see ten metres in front of me before the mist obliterated everything. It is quite freaky knowing that you started off with six fellow trampers, but only being able to see two others.
At Kime Isuggested a pit bash as my sleeping bag seemed so appealing when considering the mist and wind outside. Maybe the fact that the Tararuas were there too had some influence in deciding that we would continue on as planned? So we donned parkas, hats and other necessary gear, and stepped out again into the mist and wind, which had gota bit stronger since our arrival twenty minutes before. Upon rounding Field Peak we realised the full force of the wind that was blowing with vengeance. It took us about an hour to gain our wind legs. The tramping posture was quite novel too. In spite of the direction of travel being straight ahead, you leaned 60 degrees to the right to combat the wind. So six trampers leaning sideways, but walking forwards must have looked quite an amusing sight. However; given-that nobody else was braving the elements up there, we only had ourselves to laugh at. When the really big gusts came, you quickly learned to drop to all fours and grab hold of any god-forsaken vegetation that was growing in the exposed and bleak spot. We struggled on and became progressively more tired battling that howling wind all the time, but eventually reached Aston. We overshot the turn off as it was so hard to see, with all that mist, where the ridge was that we were supposed to descend.
After doubling back we eventually found the ridge. Good teamwork guys - I am glad you found the ridge. (I was too tired, so sat down while maps, compasses and the terrain were consulted!) So down the ridge we trotted. Along the way, the mist cleared remarkably quickly and we got treated to a view!! WOW, what a surprise. At our lunch stop, just in the bushline (out of the wind) we could see Wellington harbour, Petone, Somes Island and even the Hutt Valley. Looking back to where we came, we could only see mist and the clouds racing across the sky as if the demons were riding them. Looking to the west coast, we could see occasional glimpses of a township - Otaki perhaps?
After lunch it was down to the saddle, then up to Elder. By this time, all people (not just me now) were starting to feel tired, and so Iam sure the pace slowed as we trudged up to and along Renata Ridge, and eventually reached the hut, some ten hours after leaving Field Hut that morning. It seemed like such a long time ago and in another world. Down at Renata we had no mist, slight wind, but instead we had rain. Shortly after ar-. riving at the hut it poured down, just like it does on the west coast of the South Island.
The hut was such a welcome sight; my first thought was a nice pit - one that I had been thinking of for many hours! However, the hut smelled, I thought, like a sheep barn. Nola reckoned that it was rat piss. This seemed more feasible given the black rat droppings littering the hut. The smell was quite overpowering. Nevertheless, after the long day and the fact that it was pouring outside, it still seemed like a welcome place.
John is to be commended for his decadent, but utterly glorious dessert, which consisted of boysenberries and marshmallows incream, and topped off with chocolate chips. Yum, yum, so rich, but so NICE!
After storing everything in the packs and then stringing the packs up on the meat hooks in the hut, we settled down. We were expecting an invasion of rats, given the prolific droppings around. (Hence, the reason why all packs were carefully strung up.) However, in spite of all our preparations and expectations, not a single rat was heard or seen that night. Sunday morning was a later start given the weariness of the trampers and the fact that it was raining (What a surprise!)
The one place where we were promised a view, was still in the rain, but had no mist. However, we could see the distance that we had covered on Saturday and it really was quite impressive. No photos were taken, as the weather was still inclement.
We had a brief stop to investigate Waiotauru Hut which was like a barn. If we thought Renata was like a sheep barn, we now knew it was relative luxury compared with its neighbour Waiotauru. Waiotauru Hut had one small sleeping platform, but the bulk of the hut consisted of concrete floor and suitable ventilation!
Lunch at a clearing just past Waiotauru Forks was caught between downpours. Fortunately the raingod gave us twenty minutes without crying profusely on us. Though why we were worrying about the water, given that we were pretty wet anyway, I don’t know. I think it is a psychological thing. We must like to think that we are dry.
When we reached Otaki Forks it was pouring down, but all we could think of now was a nice hot shower and then a comfortable and dry bed. We could all feel satisfied with ourselves, as we did cover a lot of ground and experienced I. some_adverse_weather.condi-. tions (to put it mildly). Thanks John.
The fellow trampers were: John, Mark, Andrew, Nola and Prakash.
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