This text was read by OCR from a scanned newsletter and has not been proofread yet, so expect odd characters and mistakes.
Ruahines on any given day, and “s” equals the event that Struan goes tramping, and if weekend £6. ”
[= “ry” equals the amount of rain that could fall in the in the hills equals “w Then... w+ts=r If Glynne is leading a trip and route A has a gradient of 20 over 1 and route B has a gradient of 2 over 1... Then... Trip equals route A. After the usual haul on the Tongue-mobile with Col. Fletcher at the helm (cheers Lyndsay), we arrived at Kawhatau Base around 10.30pm. The aroma of sheep certainly let you know that you’re in the country. It was a bit early to go to bo-peep land so there was a bit of a bull-shit session before the sandman hit. After the morning brew we set off for the cableway. My parting view was of Lyndsay still in his pit preparing for his trough of tea. One of the joys of sleeping out must be being able to make your breakfast in bed and enjoy the view. Lyndsay looked very comfortable in his Easy role. One by one we whizzed across the river in the cage. I was a bit surprised that Glynne would let us take such a soft option — surely we should be clinging to the cable with our teeth while clutching a boulder in each hand! Upwards and onwards to the bushline. It was cloudy (of course) but we still got views of Ruapehu and Ngauruhoe. I was gobsmacked when someone asked which was which! It must have been a bit early in the day for them. We regrouped at the bushline. There was a bit of a breeze pushing the cloud our way, which just isn’t cricket after slogging up to the tops. Glynne’s orders were to follow the poled route so we wandered along, poised like springs ready to leap form the poled route -as_soon_as-_the order was_given. After the MacKinnon Hut turn-off we started t to hit the lumpy bits. It was a bit fresh up there, but then it was quite pleasant when we were on the lee side (briefly). We stopped for lunch in a convenient depression. It was a bit early but the best place we would get all day so lunch was had. Always interested in other people’s ideas for fuel I asked the vegie weirdo next to me (the Spanish word for “vegetarian” is “espuma”) what the strange
Dave Garratt
ingredient was sticking out of his supermarket bag. It turned out to be some grass that had grabbed a lift from our smoko stop. All these vegetable-type things look the same to me. Funnily enough it was released into the wilds again. I thought it would be a bonus for the vegos. We set off again after lunch, heading straight up to the ridgeline just in time to see the mist hurtle in. The rest of the day provided magnificent views... of the inside of a cloud, and the odd break in the clouds to see the flats where Waterfall Hut was located basking in the sunshine while we embraced the elements. The plan was to drop down Trig Stream, so we did. The group split into 3 different sub-groups — we will call them x, y and z. The y group took the northern ridge; the z group went straight down the stream; and the x group took the southern route, then skirted the head of the stream and took the northern route. As the x’s descended, the slope into the stream became steeper as they got nearer the chosen drop line. So the x’s dropped down earlier rather than later. X now equalled first team causing y to follow x. Thus y + x = p—z where p = whole party. X sat beside the stream where it flattened off a bit and soon x was joined by z and y and we p’eed off to Waterfall Hut. It was nice in the valley but all the ridges above us were clagged in. This came as no surprise to me — out of seven trips to the Ruahines, I have only seen the tops twice. But I’ve never had a trip in the Ruahines that I haven't enjoyed. It’s a cool place (in more ways than one). If one of the party had decided not to carry the fly because we were staying at a hut, what would the probability of an empty hut have been? P (E) = nil. Waterfall is a six-bunk hut and four hunters had choppered.in. They had_won the.chopper ride in_a_. possum hunt contest so they’d earned it. They reckoned their aim wasn’t too flash so they’d flown some steak in with them. Three of our party slept in the hut. One of them was the forgetful type who had mislaid the fly. Being a true gent he let one of the “wimmenfolk” use his bivvy bag! The weaker sex, my arse! Glynne decided to make Beef Rendang for dinner. It was excellent — my compliments to our noble leader.
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Trip Reports
The stars came out but they didn't stick around. It rained a fair bit in the night and I tested my bivvy bag to its capacity. I was a bit damp in the morning but I would have been drenched without it. The five under the fly had no complaints. Struan and Glynne also survived and seemed to have fared a bit better in their Goretex than I had in my Reflex. After breakfast we attacked the ridges again. We followed a stream to the saddle but the last bit was a little nasty and we had to retreat from there to take an easier route to the south. It would have been fun without a pack but I haven't found a way to tramp without one (day trips aren't an option).
After some precision compass work we made it to Purity Hut for a brew to warm up. To speed things up we had three cookers and billies so we boiled two billies half filled as opposed to 1 full one. After lunch it was a quick zoom downhill to the coach and the Easies and dry clothes. So: Trip in Ruahines = GT if GT is good time.
El Presidente — Glynne Los amigos —~ Simon, Trish, Nick, Angela, Grant, Andrew, Raymond, Struan, Kirstie, Dave.