This text was read by OCR from a scanned newsletter and has not been proofread yet, so expect odd characters and mistakes.
~ ~~“ riday night had rolled around ~ again and here we were being bundled out of the Duchess at Mangawhero campsite near Ohakune. Putting up a tent in the dark that you had never seen in your life was a mildly challenging exercise, but we were soon snugly in pits.
13-15 September by Nick Wood I “A taxi-van pickup at a very civilised 9am had us on the Round the Mountain track head- _ing south from the Turoa road, by 9:20. Our group of three on the Medium trip had Rangipo Hut as our goal for the day, and we set off at a reasonable pace leaving the Easy trip to'take their
time. Pleasant paths through beech forest gave way to exposed boardwalks across windswept clearings, and through the occasional chilling creek. A couple of hour’s walk had us at Mangaehuehu Hut for an early lunch and a bit of shelter from the tiring northwest wind. Pageé cont'd from page 6 A quick time check gave us 612 hours of daylight for a 5% hour signposted track—so off we went. As we headed slightly south through more beech forest, we were thankfully sheltered from the wind. After another hour we said goodbye to any shelter for the rest of the day and headed out onto the rocky and ash covered southeast slopes of Ruapehu.
The gradient was gradual but tending upwards with the occasional downwards to streams, most of which were slightly swolten, grey with ash, and chilled from melting snow. As we moved furtner north, the wind picked up and started to whip a mixture of ash, rain and sleet at us, stinging our eyes and faces, and slowing us down a wee bit.
Nevertheless, by 3pm we were looking down at the Wahianoa River gorge. The bridge at the bottom was a welcome sight especially after looking at the river beneath it. The track sidled gradually towards it.
The signs warning us that we were entering a lahar path were a bit disconcerting and the thought that this would not be a convenient time for Ruapehu to go up again did cross our minds. Even more disconcerting was the rapid and swollen stream between us and the bridge. Although it wasn’t that wide, not being able to see the bottom caused us to um and ah before taking the plunge and getting across. We didn’t hesitate to get the bridge behind us and start the slog straight up the other side. With perverse thoughts of photo opportunities and having a safe height above the river, I pondered that perhaps a lahar could quite happily materialise below us now.
Fortunately the weather had eased, making the climb slightly less difficult. Topping the ridge, it came back with a vengeance. We were heading straight into the wind, with the rain and sleet worse than ever. The map told us we should only have a couple of kms to go to the hut. There was only one thing for it, to plod on. The grey rocky landscape soon. had me imagining rocks in the shape of huts.
Luckily, as had been the case along the entire way, the route was wWell-poled, so, short of the hut having been blown off the mountain, we felt sure it had to be skulking around there somewhere. After almost doubting if we would ever find it, there have probably been fewer more welcome sights for tired trampers when it appeared out from around an outcrop.
It didn’t take long with a fire going and food on its way down to get us feeling better. Masses of ed socks soon adorned the hut while pools of water and piles of ash accumulated all around. Somehow the three of us managed to happily fill a hut with room for 4-5 times as many. Drying clothes in front of the fire become a major entertainment.
Dinner was soon on its way down with the high point being the two packets of cheesecakes which we’d managed to bring to share between the three of us. (Are you sure that was a mistake in your organisation, Nola?) Anyway, having an appetite whetted by a few hours battling wind and rain, the quantities looked just right to me.
Peaking outside revealed the cloud had given way to a cloudless night, but the wind was still ferocious. Waking up the next morning, it seemed eerily calm. It turned out to be a gloriously fine sunny morning. Basking on the front porch for breakfast it was easy to forget how different it was when we’d arrived.
Eventually we set off on the amble along to the Tukino road, with only the crossing of the Whangaehu of any note. Thankfully, a brand new bridge got us across there in a flash. After a quick stop for the final slices of cheesecake, we headed on down to the Desert Road. Hitching a ride to Waiouru left us with time to have afternoon tea (no cheesecake unfortunately) before the Duchess rolled along and we were homeward bound.
- Our tired but cheerful trio were Nola, Suzy and Nick.