This text was read by OCR from a scanned newsletter and has not been proofread yet, so expect odd characters and mistakes.
“Don't go to the Tararuas” said Harry. The warning to my punters was issued as we discussed the trip on Wednesday evening. “It always rains, blows storm force, the mud is deep and unrelenting, and then there is the leatherwood to bash through”. “Only sicko's go tramping in the Tararuas". We were plotting a trip from Kaitoke, up the Tauherenikau Valley and via Bull Mound to Alpha, followed by a return along Quoin Ridge. While I knew Harry had experienced the rough stuff of the Tararua’s on one or two occasions, the new punters in my group must have been worried. Could this place really be that horrible? Harry gloated he would spend the weekend at home in Thorndon, lazing in bed, drinking cups of tea and possibly eating fish and chips. After all he said, don't use bad language such as “T*r*r**s", it is "the Wairarapa Windbreak" or “the land of everlasting mud and misery’! Saturday arrived and we nervously arrived at the railway station, shrouded in fog. Was this merely the beginning of depressing weather or was this a cloud of doom and gloom that hangs over Thorndon? The question was soon answered. The fog lifted as we approached the “land of everlasting mud and misery" and sun began to shine, glistening on the dew-covered grass. Under the shining sun the car park was muddy - was this what Harry meant, mud created by Upper Hutt bogans doing donuts on Friday nights? Anyway the track ahead was free of mud, the sky clearing and there was barely a breath of wind. Looking back though, a cloud still hung over Thorndon. We paused for morning tea in the sheltered sun of the Tauherenikau Valley by the river. As we strode along the valley floor we thought of Harry stumbling around in the cloudy murk, in search of his first cup of tea. What is this “rain” stuff, he spoke of? Crossing the river by Cone hut, we understood. A rogue cloud dropped a couple of light spits. "Great, this moisture is lovely", it helped cool us down before the climb. While Bull Mound felt steep, I couldn't help wonder what David thought. This was his first WTMC trip and the hill was a far cry from the Himalayan 8000 metre peaks he usually attempts. Anyway, Harry had informed us of the misery we would face, surely that would make the trip hard-core. But alas after no dramas, Alpha Hut was a lovely spot to eat large servings of beef stir-fry followed by cake and custard, then snooze till the morning. Back in Thorndon, the cloud probably still hung low and Harry would be staggering around trying to find a fish and chip shop that hadn't been demolished to make way for inner city apartments.
ee
The weather of Saturday had been rough, when compared to the delightful Sunday morning. Negotiating around some patches of snow, we arrived on top of Alpha with the sun shining brightly, a light breeze blowing, barely enough to move a dandelion head ...... “so this is the notorious Tararua wind?" we thought. Back in Thorndon the cloud hung low, Harry wouldn't have even managed a first brew by this time of the morning. While Marchant Ridge has a justifiably bad reputation for a boring wander, the same cannot be said for its parallel neighbour, Quoin. It has remained untracked after 50 years, being out of bounds due to water catchment restrictions. The top half of the ridge is clear of bush and the views are superb. Tussock was swept aside, a brief minute or two the leatherwood narrowed the ground trail, but it was straightforward travel to the bush edge. Wandering along we looked straight down the Hutt Valley, across Wellington Harbour and on to the cloud of doom and gloom in Thorndon. This, ironically, was the ONLY cloud. We paused at a lovely spot for lunch and continued to the Eastern Hutt River via a straightforward bush-bash. A swingbridge kept the ankles dry, then we had a 350-metre climb over a AWD track to the club bus. Back at the bus, we felt we had experienced the Tararua’s in full force - Mud in the car park, 5mins of rain, the gentle breeze on Alpha, and a bit of leatherwood on Quoin Ridge. As we headed back into cloud, I reflected on the trip: “If that's miserable tramping, I wonder what the good stuff is like?" The crew were Andrew Chisholm, David Jewell, Tan Harrison and Grant Newton seer www.wtmc.org.nz PO Box 5068, Wellington