This text was read by OCR from a scanned newsletter and has not been proofread yet, so expect odd characters and mistakes.
A long last a day that’s not windy or worse still, raining, and it’s quite mild too so we decide that a trip to the Tararuas is a must. This will be the first time that Michael (aged 4 years) comes tramping with us. By now Chris is a seasoned adventurer.
We reach Otaki Forks in good time, and find that the road is in pretty good condition. I’m surprised to find that we are the only ones parked in the day park. There to greet us is a lovely white ghoost (as Michael calls it). He’s a friendly fellow and follows Michael around while Dan and I put on boots and load up the back pack. Once that’s done we head off for the hills.
Our destination is the old steam boiler on the way into Waitewaewae Hut. We’re not sure how far along it is, but know that it’s pretty easy going. The kids get up the first hill with no problems and no grizzling, so it’s off to a good start. I’m pleased to see that the track is reasonably wide and a very easy gradient. It is also very muddy, something of which we’d been forewarned. - Not long into the walk Michael does his first bum plant; thankfully he comes up laughing.
When we reach the swingbridge __ over the Otaki_River, Chris, be-
bush which smells fresh and earthy from all the recent rain. We discuss at length the engineering feats of those early pioneers who built the tram track to take timber out of the forest. We also enjoy sloshing our way through all that mud.
It takes just under 22 hours to » get to the steam boiler which is just sitting there in the bush. There is no indication that you are coming up to it; you just round the bend and there it is, rusting away with quiet dignity.
This is as far as we are going. Out comes lunch and the camera, and there is food and photos galore. The kids have a great time playing on the old steam boiler, imagining cutting down big trees and hooking them up to be taken down the track. Our trip back seems to go a lot quicker than the trip in. The kids take the opportunity to get as muddy as they can, splashing through all the puddles and jumping in the mud. Chris gets Michael a beauty when he jumps in a thick muddy puddle right in front of him. Michael gets covered in mud from top to bottom. After that Michael gets even muddier doing a wonderful face plant. He figures his bottom. is wet _and muddy ing the experienced tramper that he is, decides to lead the way and show us how it’s done. Michael crosses with Dad and enjoys the experience, likening it to floating on water.
We find the walk very interesting, coming in and out of the enough.
On our way out we come upon a group of WT&MC trampers who advise us that we won’t be able to get out as the road is now closed by a slip. Great! What are we going to do? Sleep in the car, said the kids. Fortunately,
By Wendy Rodie luck is with us, because as we come out of the bush into some open country we can see the bulldozer on the other side of the valley clearing the road.
That heartening sight makes us quicken our pace, and before long, low and behold, another group from WT&MC. You just can’t seem to get away from them. They confirm that the road is now open.
Just before we get to the swing bridge again, it begins to rain. We don’t mind though, as it has been a perfect day for tramping. This time I take Michael across the bridge, and he takes great delight in scaring me by leaning on the side of the bridge. It doesn’t seem to worry him that . it tips over a bit. He likes that “floating” sensation. By the time we get to the other side, Chris is still going strong but Michael has definitely faded. I have to piggyback him up the hill. What a heavyweight. Once we get to the flat, Dad takes over Michael and I carry the back pack, a much better option. At the end of our walk there is the “ghoost” waiting for us; waiting to see what leftovers we have for his tea.
After getting changed we all pile _ into the car, having enjoyed our day out in the Tararuas immensely. Getting muddy can be very rewarding, especially when your four-year-old tells you he wants to go again. He won the record for the most falls—eight slips onto his bottom, and one face plant.