This text was read by OCR from a scanned newsletter and has not been proofread yet, so expect odd characters and mistakes.
There's a story to be told of the Ruahine's. A story of seven “wannabe” penguins. ‘Twas on the 5" of September, Glynne took under his wing Ally, Brent, Viv, Kose, Eva and Suzanne, on a medium adventure. A night's sleep in Triplex Hut, and the ascent begins. Firstly, gentle benched track through beech, but no Sunday walk, they travel on past Buttercup Hollow to Sunrise Hut. The sun indeed meets them over an early lunch and there's barely a whiff of what lies ahead. Around the rim the seven navigate, of scree clad precipice stretching far below. Along Armstrong Saddle they go, then amble up through the alpine flora towards Te Atuaoparapara. Leatherwood mazes, grass tuft handholds, and the occasional encounter of feisty Spaniard. A few hours on and excitement as snow greets their boots with a crispy hello. Up and onwards past the1687m trig, Eva and Brent again taking the lead and the rest plugging behind them. Where white meets white and knuckles hold tight to the ice axes - a crash alpine course for Viv, Kose and Suzanne. It got chilly on those fluffy whites. Glynne, wise to wear his overtrousers - the others, well they'll probably wear them next time. The snow became endless, the wind colder than cold, still they persisted the elements and managed to stay a fold. Eventually down metres, came the calmer skies, and smiles were in place for the muddy slide. Onto Waipawa Saddle these penguin wannabes now descend, flippers soon thawing. Down the valley by stream and rock hopping they go, in forever hope of their dream. And there it is, not a moment too soon, out from the trees a hut to be seen - little and blue, complete with matching turret loo! A cosy hutch for the night after 8 hours trudging, Waikamaka by name, keeps them finely warm with Brent's fire attained. Dry clothes pulled from packs, whilst grimy ones steam overhead. A delectable tuna curry enjoyed, Glynne's afghans to follow, it's not long before the snoring chorus settle into their feathers for the night. But not without the
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candlelit tramping yarns of bygone days and Ally's teasing of TimTam slams. Another day dawns. Frosty crisp boots laced, and gaiters in place, it's time to head back where they came from, now with some kinder weather and terrain. Up the Waipawa Saddle and down the other side, meandering along the river to lunch at Waipawa Forks Lodge in the drissle. Then the seven, make their final waddle back over to Triplex Hut and down to the bus awaiting them. Thanks Glynne for another notable adventure.
Suzanne Holmes