This text was read by OCR from a scanned newsletter and has not been proofread yet, so expect odd characters and mistakes.
Oh! What a wonderful morning, oh what a wonderful day... etc. (A damp, windy rendition of the Medium trip up the Ohau)
riday night and the weather was as doubtful as it ever is in the Tararuas. Heavy rain and gale warnings. Oh well, par for the course, and we all trundled off in the Duchess (maybe for the last time) to Ohau.
We Mediums elected to stay in the truck overnight and head off in the morning. The Fits blasted off into the darkness and places afar.
It began to rain. Next morning it was still raining. We splashed, waded and swam our way up the Ohau, slipping and sliding on the rocks. Mike Gillies practiced his wonderful, pirouettes on handy patches of moss. He would have passed any audition for the New Zealand Ballet Company with ease.
“Splish splash I was taking a bath... Mud mud _ glorious mud...” We wondered if the song writers had been up the Yeates 500 recently? Plenty of inspiration here! Finally we made it to a newly formed_(yet_unnamed) river I. flowing around the hut. “Don’t get the floor wet,” Pat shouted hopefully above the gale and horizontal onslaught. Wringing out our gear and settling down to the marathon preparation of the evening meal we discovered a whole pineapple on the shelf. “Where the '\@$#%? did this come from?” asked ET. “My contribution to the chocolate fondue,” replied Ruth. “None of that artificial canned mush around here.” Us blokes got our cans out.
The rain bashed and crashed, playing drum solos on the roof while the wind rocked the hut on the foundations in time to the beat and increasing crescendo. The fire refused to respond to the ~{: various pyromaniac attempts of our resident volunteer fireman (Brett). “Putting out fires is my real forte,” was his response to all the jibes. He did a great job. The fire never quite sparked into life.
A disturbed, restless sleep was broken at dawn by a vengeful garlic aftermath. Wet floor, wet socks, wet undies, and wet shirts. Wonderful! We ~ set off in high spirits for Dick’s Knob. It’s a wonder there was one left in this weather! The track was awash and the wind was even stronger. Bow waves broke over the top of everyone’s gaiters and filled their boots. No chance of going down © the river now, the track was bad enough. One slip and you could easily have drowned in the torrent of slush. The mud was relentless, almost claiming our leader in a deep wallow along the track.
Steve had taken off ahead and waited at the junction with the track to Waiopehu for us to catch up. The top of Gable End Ridge was in sight and the decision to drop off the tops was made easy. No-one was hanging around, keen to keep going. The Ohau Shelter provided a welcome windbreak (of sorts), and the billy radiated some much-needed warmth as we chatted to a group of enthusiastic day walkers. “Where have yah been?” the chorus sang. “Oh, in the mud,” was the cheerful response from Dave. “Us too!”
Not far now.
A very bedraggled and damp bunch of Mediums finally wandered out to the roadend at 3.30 pm, scattering the cows and calves, who were startled at the sight of Dave’s shorts. We waited until 7.15 pm for the Fits but they had obviously been cut off by the high rivers. We all hoped they were safe and comfortable.
The wind had forced rain through the old girl’s door seal, I Filling the various recesses in the lining with water and wetting the seat. The roof vents had also failed to seal against the elements. “Save the Duchess,” the hopeful sign read on the back compartment of the passenger area.
cont'd from page 5 Squelching onto the driver’s seat, the water seeped through my trousers as the Duchess rumbled along, doing battle with the wind and rain. The Sunday evening kamikaze squadron of car drivers provided the final challenge as we made our way slowly home. It was almost enjoyable in comparison to the weather the Tararuas had turned on...
The team: Ruth, (leader, pineapple peeler, and talented mudskipper), ET (on his way home), Brett (alias big Flick the fire lighter ), Mike (the dancer), Pat (the scribe), Dave (the chocolate fondue chef), and Steve (the racer).
P.S. We found out later that the Fit group were forced to walk out down the Mangahao River.
[Photo captions and page text that interrupted the story:]
11-13 October 1996