This text was read by OCR from a scanned newsletter and has not been proofread yet, so expect odd characters and mistakes.
A Fit Trip in the Kahurangie
ome tramping trips are just ‘good’; others are ‘very good’, Yet there are a few that are simply ‘top shelf’. The first essential ingredient of a truly excellent trip has to be a truly excellent line-up of people! Add to this a stunning area to visit; add to this the first class cuisine; add to this quality coach transfers to and from Picton; add to this 4 full days to do the trip — why, it was looking like a winner from the word ‘Go’!
Our expedition started inauspiciously with a torrential downpour leaving Picton. Most of us had no idea that the Orient Express could drive so slowly. We thought it had automatic cruise control at the top end! And it rained most of the way . to sunny Nelson. Heavily! It was good to receive an interesting commentary over the PA system along the way, things like weather and road conditions en route, things that might otherwise have escaped our notice! Allen was driving a black rental van full of the Easy party who were off to Abel Tasman, and behind them they towed a white fibreglass covered trailer which very much looked like a coffin on wheels. It was even hinged on one side to allow the thing to open up and the corpse to be exhibited if _ necessary. With the black van full of people you could have-beenforgiven for thinking it was the . Munster family on holiday! The interesting twist to this was that after Allen and Roger had deposited people and vehicles at different roadends on Wednesday night, they were unable to find the rest of their party who were supposedly camping on the track near the roadend. It was 4am, they were tired, and they had no fly. All they had was the Munster family coffin on wheels — which they ended up sleeping in! A deep sleep it was too — the lid closed © because of the rain. If you enjoy a chuckle, ask Sue Higgins for a copy of her photo! See if you can spot the Munster family likeness in either Roger or Allen? Reunited again after a healthy 3. hours’ sleep, and we were off. Straight into it. You can’t beat a hill climb first off! No procrasti-. nation! Just straight up the Kill- . devil switchbacks we went, grateful of the cloudy weather and the coolness of the day. Being a ‘Fit’ party of environmentally conscious people, we took time to enjoy the views, take photos, study our maps, and explore the environs on the way. Now, occasionally when a Fit party does engage in such tramping-related activities, a Medium party will perhaps be given a tactical opportunity to catch up with the fitter party, regardless of the fact that the ‘Medium’ group may have departed an hour after the Fit party. We're not competitive — not at all, and its probably very good for the morals of the slower party if such an incident should occur; it’s important to encourage others. So when you're sitting , ~down;enjoying the-scenery look=—| ing into the Waingaro Valley (and it’s spectacular!) and you hear this penetrating shriek “7’S THE FITS’,. you do two things. First of all you think to yourselves, ‘Well done Mediums’, then you take off very quickly so as not to detract from their enjoyment of a wilderness _ experience! Too many people spoil the hills. One of our party commented quite profoundly that this sort of terrain actually favoured the Mediums. And it’s — quite true. Enough said. Having sorted out that crisis, we had a late lunch as it wouldn’t have been appropriate to eat with the Mediums and once again detract from their wilderness experience. From here it was a gentle 3-hour stroll down to Stanley Forks Hut, which had a real Shantytown feel - to it. After a short break and having energy to burn, we decided to _ head on up the Stanley River tak- I ing our chances that there might be a little grassy area to camp in beside a waterfall, with palm trees for shade and hot and cold running maids. We didn’t find that spot, but we did find a very flat spot on the riverbed with ‘STAUNCH TRAMPERS ONLY’ written all over its pebble-covered floor. This would do us fine!
‘A hearty meal beside the campfire quickly ensued, followed by a Wireless Sched with ZLJG Base in Wellington, Don and Eric in the Cobb Valley, and Andrew, Shane and Matthew down in the Olivines. The forecast was good, the other trips were going well and enjoying long, gruelling days too, so we were greatly encouraged and firmly resolved to carry on with our expedition as s originally ; planned. = _ Friday morning, undaunted by the demands the day would surely bring, we were woken early by our Group Wake Up Officer (try stopping him!) and then set off a ta fit pace up the Stanley River. Just before reaching Lake Stanley, we passed for an hour or so. through the massive slip which formed the lake some 50 years previously. Stanley Drip Hut is at the eastern end of the lake. It’s an unpleasant sort of place, a dirty smelly little barn which might be quite welcoming in an extremely heavy downpour. From here we wandered up the western side of the lake, noting that it would not be a good place for a float plane to land due to the abundance of skeleton tree trunks protruding from the lake. At the western end of the lake after a short swim for some and a dunking for others, we left the track and headed up the southern branch of the Stanley River towards the Douglas Range. . The going was easy, criss-crossing the river but mainly tramping through open bush on the river flats. There was only one fairly spectacular fast-flowing gorgy section which we avoided by bashing through the bush on the true left. With seven budding navigators on the trip, a sizeable portion of time was spent in map study and discussion on where we might or might not have been. Still, we were determined to leave the river at the right spot, and not repeat the mistake of a club party 2 years previously which turned off too early. Our efforts paid off. Near the head of the valley we headed west for the letter ‘A’: - ‘Douglas’ on the map. We hit it perfectly after an hour’s climb, with stunning views I from the ridge of Drunken Sailor to the right, Lonely Lake centre stage, and the Cobb Valley to the left.
The grunt up the hill had been worth it. It was good to be alive. From here it was an easy sidle down to Lonely Lake, which was anything but lonely with two other parties camped here. A truly beautiful spot, with a very small 2-person Tardis-type hut. Finally, we boxed onwards and upwards to a. quiet little camp spot just short of the saddle. Once again we set ‘ about our tasks, some enjoying a further uphill stroll onto the tops before dinner.
The wireless report that night was crystal clear. ZIG in Wellington told us that it was because we were away: from all the noise, which is exactly why we hadn’t stayed at Lonely Lake with the other parties there. (ZLJG missed the subtlety of our reasoning.) A superb night. True sub-alpine conditions with a gentle zephyr blowing in one end of the fly and coming out the other end as a zodiac. Who needs a tent?
Saturday morning was stunning. What a place to wake up. High in the hills; no sandflies; no wasps; no noise! After an early start we tramped for 15 minutes to the saddle and then sat down for a cup of tea. The views were too good not to enjoy. This is what we “had come for — the call of the tops. After tea and much map reading, we left our packs and wandered off towards Anatoki Peak, surveying this stunning country and making plans for future expeditions. The weather was excellent, and we explored for 3-4 hours.
From the saddle it was an easy descent through dracophyllum ’ forests down to the Anatoki River, but you must first to take the recommended route under Drunken Sailor and then down the ridge to the west. Other parties in the past have tried a direct descent straight down from the saddle only to be bluffed and _to take hours in the process. We appreciated their warning. Thanks chaps.
We arrived at Anatoki River after a 2-hour bush bash descent 50 metres from the cairn that marks the uphill route. A near miss. Now the Anatoki River is a picture book river, real Dr Livingstone stuff. Just perfect. So after lunch, swims and more cups of tea, we headed down the river to Anatoki Forks Hut, with everyone trying their luck at what they thought was the quickest side of the river. After an hour or two the river gets exciting, going from a bubbling brook to a raging torrent through more coach-sized boulders. Prudence told us to leave the river at this stage and join up with the track _which we’d left the previous morning.
Anatoki Forks Hut is a hut among huts — it has a hot shower powered by a wetback on the stove. It also has a shower base, shower curtain and soap dish. And good water pressure too. After a short discussion, we agreed this wasn’t for us; we’d be happier with a cold swim in the river. So off we set again, mindful that the more we walked today the less we'd have to do tomorrow to the roadend.
We chose our spot on the map — a flattish-looking clearing towards Anatoki Bend, and started bush bashing towards it. Now a word about wasps and bees! Most of us were stung at some time or other during the trip; an unpleasant experience but one of the current risks of the wilds. Often-times itis not the person in the lead who gets stung, it is someone closer to the back. But to every rule there is an exception. Killer bees are not common in New Zealand, but there is a small colony of these creatures resident not far from Anatoki Bend who have an obvious dislike for uninvited guests.
agely attacked by a viscous swarm of these detestable little pensters, and was heard screaming and yelling and dancing for some time, the others assuming he’d found an excellent campsite! Daniel repeated a similar performance the next day, the others again mistakenly assuming he was practising auditioning for a John Cleese role. The only good that came out of the former incident was that the campsite that night was a lot quieter than the norm, with the leader well dosed up on antihistamine, shaking like a leaf, and wrapped up in his pit. No, bottled bees are not permitted on Club trips!
On Monday we set off at the crack of dawn (thank you Allen), soon catching up with the Mediums shortly before the saddle back
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Waitangi Weekend 1997 Anonymous
WT&MC Marchi997