This text was read by OCR from a scanned newsletter and has not been proofread yet, so expect odd characters and mistakes.
I t was Friday and I was looking forward to a tramp in the Kawekas: a leisurely Medium trip on the tops with a close-knit team of four. I hadn’t really made my mind up where we would be going: Kiwi Mouth Hut was the destination on the trip schedule. A bit of a deadend, with a wet exit to Kuripapango down the Ngaruroro River. The river would be tricky this time of year, especially with some “yetto-be-blooded Mediums”. The rest of the Mediums had decided on Cameron Hut, but I didn’t fancy that spot either. I guess it was the tops or nothing, but how would I get them to tag along? I occasionally drifted into daydreams about the Kaweka Challenge and the great time I had in February. Thirty-degree heat, Mad Dog Hill, Kaweka “J”, Cooks Horn and the Tits, not to mention Tutaekuri River. Great spot, interesting names. The phone rang. “ Hide Padt, ... id’s Roger. Remember I’m subposed to be leading the fids dith weekend,” said the nasal-sounding voidse on the fone. “I’b dot a head cold. My punters, Angela Hawes, Wendy Rodie and Jon Parker are still keen to go, can you help?” (Could become an interesting trip now...) “Well, I don’t know. I’ve got 3 Mediums with me and yours are Fits.”
“I’ve organised the transport,” said Roger hopefully, “and we are having pork for dinner on Saturday night.”
6-8 September 1996
“Oh, we're having chicken...” (string this out a bit longer!) “Ill ask them to change it,” said Roger hopefully. “Where were you going to go, Roger? Mine may not be up to it, and yours may get bored with a Medium trip.” “Studholm Saddle then out past Kaweka Hut...1 think.”
“No sweat!” (At last an excuse to do a tops trip.) “Tell them I'll pick them up at 6:00. I'll drive the van up if you like.” Well, it was a long drag up on Friday night to Kaweka; 5 hours in the van. Into bed at 12:30; a few nightmares and sleep talkers on the trip (I hear). Saturday dawned a clear cool morning, and Kuripapango loomed up from the river. “Where are we going to?” asked a keen punter. “Up there.” “Oh.” “The fly’s a bit wet,” said Greg. “You don’t know what a wet fly is. Shall we give it a soak to slow you down?” “Fill the billy, Keith, and we'll get a brew on.”
“come on you lot ... hurry up, Hazel,” from the other group’s leader, Steve Patience, keen to make an early assault on the hill. “See you here at 2:00 Sunday, Steve,” called Pat as they disappeared. After Steve's lot took off up the track we all piled into the van and drove around to the other side of Kuripapango
By Pat Duffy to make our “civilised assault” from the Lakes carpark. Climbing the initial 200m in the van was certainly easier than walking. An hour later, after ascending the remaining 500m via the shorter route, we sat on the top in the sunshine, looking at a great view and the other group still climbing. We never saw them again until Sunday.
Kiwi Saddle Hut was the next objective. A quick brew and some lunch, various comments about the real estate ( great hut), and decision time. “Who wants to go to Kiwi Mouth? Awful spot, and we will have to climb out back along here on Sunday.” (Leader saying ‘no way, José’.) “How about Castle Camp?” (leader enticing.) “Not much at Castle. Camp,” said Wendy. “Shhhhh ... the others don’t know that.” Silence ... "We can camp there or go on a little to Studholme Saddle or Mac’s Spur and Mackintosh Hut if we feel fit. More options this way.” (Leader’s plot thickens!) Silence ... “Consensus then?” “Yep,” they all said. “We're off then.” (At last a tops trip ... yippee.) Castle Camp is not too far past Kiwi Saddle Hut. The wind was gale force northerly by now but the rain was well off to the west. Good travelling and a fit team. No sweat. Go the Fitiums. “@%#&, what a dump this is.” “! told you we could make a decision when we got here,” Pages nO ee en a cont’d from page 8
(leader still working on the team’s positive attitude to his enjoyment of a tops trip.) “Let’s have a quick break here and go on to Studholm Saddle.” “Have you seen the dunny here? No walls.” (More positive encouragement from the leader.) “Looks a bit black ... Hope it doesn’t rain too much tonight.”
Off to Kaiarahi (1500m altitude). More, and still more wind up our backs and the team slowing down a little now. We reached the top in good time. Deer sign everywhere but no hunters’ foot prints. Mackintosh Spur is the leader's next objective. (1 think they have twigged my motivation techniques by now.) But here goes ... last time. “Studholme Hut’s down over there ... see?” The wind is increasing now and the map’s flapping makes it hard to read. “No!” (in six part harmony.) “Oh well, you've got to climb down the ridge from the saddle ... and all the way back up here in the morning.” “We saw a small hut over there ..-” The wind took the rest of the words away as quickly as they fell upon the leader’s deaf ears. “What did you say? ... That's just the small bivvy; the rest would have to sleep out or go up to the wish list.)
“Oh!...” (in six part harmony), “what’re the options then?” “Mackintosh Spur and on to Mackintosh Hut if we can pick it out ... that’s it over there. What do you think? We can descend from here before it rains and have a flat walk out in the morning. Sleep-in anyone?” “Yep.” (in six part harmony.)
Mackintosh Spur is pretty easy, even though it looks formidable from the top. About one-third of the way down we spot hunters’ footprints. Mackintosh Hut is okay; a typical small forest service hut with four bunks, stove and good water. A couple of good keen men are in residence along with the mice.
“Hi.” “Yeah gidday, where have you come from?” “Just off the spur back there.” “Seen any deer sign? We’ve been way out the back of the tops today, didn’t see any sign. Bit tricky for you trampers though, I expect? No marked trails or anything where we go.” “Oh, we saw heaps of sign up top. Perhaps you didn’t go that way?”
We now know where Barry Crump sourced his material. There was so much around you had to be careful not to step in it. Nice dog though. It took a liking to Greg and gave hima wet licky wake-up call at 5:00 in the morning. We are not sure who Greg thought it was, but he |_certainly gave the dog a scare... The chicken, pork, apricot whatnot went down well for dinner. The onion dip did not eventuate as Pat had given the reduced cream to a member of the other trip—they were wondering what it was for—and the onion soup went into the whatnot.
The rain came when the wind dropped, and we settled in for a comfortable night under the flys.
Sunday dawned warm and clearing. Only a short walk out today to the Lakes carpark, so a leisurely 10:00am start was ordered.
“How’s the knee, Wendy?” “Bit stiff,” was the reply, as she ran off . Asidle around the base of Cooks Horn Spur, past Kaweka Hut, and lunch at Tutaekuri River. Jon braved a quick swim in the sub-zero waters. He came back smelling much better despite the name of the river! A nice spot out of the wind to dry off, then it was off up the hill to the Lakes carpark and our trip came to an end.
A quick change, into the van, and we rushed off to the far side of the hill where all of this had started—hopefully to arrive before the other group.
We were caught out! They were waiting for us. “Where did you lot get to?” asked Steve. “Oh um ... Fitium trip,” replied Pat.
A great trip and a great team:
Brown, Angela Hawes, Wendy Rodie, and Jon Parker. Pity Roger Bolam couldn’t come along too. Maybe next time? PS. We had virtually done the short two-day course of the Kaweka Challenge.