This text was read by OCR from a scanned newsletter and has not been proofread yet, so expect odd characters and mistakes.
Should you ask me whence these stories, Whence these tales of tramps in mountains, I would answer, I would tell you That they all took place near Nelson In the Richmond Range of mountains In the land of bush and plateau In the three day Labour weekend.
Thus it was that many members Travelled southwards on the ferry Then by bus through rain and darkness Pitched their tents by Hackett roadhead (Although some, to save the effort Used the nearby concrete shelter.)
Woken early by the Fit Team (Far too early for a weekend) We set off a little later Followed easy track by river Followed signs to bridge and DOC hut Followed scorch marks left by Fit Team.
Onwards, upwards lay our journey First through bush and then through forest Splendid, spacious, noble forest To a clearing, to a lookout. Briefly gazing, munching, lunching Back on heads, resuming climbing. Cleverly constructed zig-zags
Led quite soon to our objective Starveall hut, wide open spaces Distance views to Nelson harbour.
Briefly buzzed by helicopter Searching for a missing tramper Then in peace we spent the evening Cooking, eating, burning timber, Looking down on twinkling townships.
Sunday was to be the big day Many mountains, mostly uphill. Early start to climb up Starveall Broad high mountain, stupendous Distance outlooks to Kaikoura Far-off range of snowy steeples.
quite
Slaty next, its rocky summit Giving even better viewpoints. Weather clear and slightly breezy But no sun, no dehydration.
Lunch on Ada Flats then onwards Steeply climbing our last uphill. Then, at last, the Old Man's summit. Southward, undulating ridges Leading down into the forest Leading to the Old Man DOC hut With smoke curling from its chimney.
Single tramper, up from Blenheim Perhaps we spoiled his solitude. Some of us moved in, but others Camped outside, out in the meadow.
Later two more, from the Hutt club Came to share our busy cooking. Known, they were, and very welcome.
Evening mist turned into rain and Later as the night got colder Wetness turned to frosty whiteness. Morning came, bright sun brought splendour Sparkling grasses, rainbow tree-tops. Valley mists rose slowly higher Fuelled by hoar frost, newly sunwarmed Fuelled by many melting mosses, Fuelled by luminous clouds of words.
Sadly, though we had to hasten. Down and ever down we hastened
Through enchanted, dappled forest Through the woods and over rivers Till at last the long climb upwards.
Long way upwards, up to Chalice Not quite so enchanting climbing With a stop-watch ever present With a waiting bus to take us To collect the shivering Fit Team.
Just in time we reached the ferry Sailed with widespread satisfaction Told our tales and watched the landscape Planned our journeys.
future southward
Paul Exley (with apologies to Mr Longfellow)