This text was read by OCR from a scanned newsletter and has not been proofread yet, so expect odd characters and mistakes.
Labour Weekend Easy/Medium Tramp
by Tracy Wilkinson photos by David Collett
Lake Matiri
Well this is my first newsletter write up of the very first trip I have lead for the club. I hope I will earn Craig's gratitude by describing to you all how easy leading a trip is. Okay, there is a bit of work beforehand in trip planning, but that does mean you can decide exactly what trip to do and even more importantly, what you are all going to eat. If you follow Helen's advice, the trip itself is pure gravy. Or perhaps it was due to my punters. I signed up for 1000 Acre Plateau not quite knowing where it was, but on the principle that anything with that good a name must be interesting. A web search confirmed my initial view, but the weather forecast meant that I had to cut back my plans and we only got to the Plateau as a day walk. We crossed over on the ferry Friday night, a massive job of organisation with six WTMC groups running that weekend, and a fair number of Tararua Tramping Club members also heading off. To my amazement I didn't manage to lose a punter to another trip — kudos to the transport organisers. We arrived at the road end about midnight, and my punters bore up well through a long walk in the dark in search of a camping ground despite my earlier statements that we'd camp where we got off the bus. At least it wasn't raining. Eventually some reasonably flat land was found, and everyone sorted into tents and flys. I looked at my watch before falling asleep and it was 2 in the morning. The next morning started dry, which was a relief, as it was Sarah and Charlotte's first tramp in New Zealand and first night out under flys. We had a leisurely breakfast and packed up while waving to the fit and medium trampers as they went past, then set out ourselves. I adopted my habit from the UK of walking at the back of the group. My formal reason for doing this is that if I was leading from the front and someone behind couldn't keep up and got lost because they didn't know where I'd went, I'd feel terrible. But if I am at the back and someone runs off ahead and goes the wrong way because they wouldn't wait, I wouldn't be bothered nearly as much. My real reasons are twofold — one it means people don't notice how unfit I am, and two most problems get solved by whoever is up front. So we wandered up the farmland towards the edge of Kahurangi Park amid increasing rain. Kate put her vet skills to good use in getting us past some calves without panicking them too badly. Charlotte and Sarah had their first encounter with a river crossing without a bridge- at which I remembered Helen's instructions about taking every opportunity to train and persuaded them to link up and cross the river proper Kiwi style. This was the start of the wet boots, and that wouldn't end for three days.
After we entered the park proper, the track rose up above the Matiri River, cut into the edge of an old slip. There I saw one of the most amazing things I have seen in New Zealand bush. First we encountered a stream running down the track — not surprising as it was by now raining quite steadily, and further proof to Charlotte and Sarah that wet feet were going to be the order of the day. But this stream evidently had been depositing a golden brown rock on the trail — quite gritty so you could walk up the trail without slipping. Eventually we found the start of a stream as a waterfall coming through the rock that was equally forming this lovely golden-brown rock deposits. We eventually decided it was limestone deposits and in a few years that section of trail will be very slippery.
After that interest, we reached Lake Matiri Hut a bit before 12. I discovered another advantage to my leading from the back — everyone had pitched in enthusiastically and was getting a billy onto boil. The only thing I apparently needed to do was to tell everyone where the longdrop was. Apparently I was the only person to have read the sign saying “Toilet” on the way in. Steve turned out to be a whiz at fire starting, and we had a pleasant lunch warm and dry inside while the rain poured down and the wind howled outside. After lunch we collected firewood and some of us went for a very wet and soggy meander around the lake edge, crossing several side streams running off the Plateau. That evening there was some intense discussion of the map of the Plateau, and everyone noted the “numerous sinkholes” written on it. Lake Matiri being a ten person hut, Andrew and I camped out that night, and it was a relief to find our tent was waterproof. The rain stopped during the night and the next morning I discovered that I had made a serious error in leaving most of my gear in the hut. I unzipped the tent to be confronted with sandflies hovering outside in formation. I zipped it up quickly, and then discovered my insect repellent was of course in the hut. I made a rapid rush to the hut. That day the rain was lighter and a bit on and off. After many cries of woe at having to put on wet boots and socks, we made our way up to the 1000 Acre Plateau, which involved a steep climb up some 700 metres. For some reason, about half the way I up, I started to get the impression from the group my popularity would have plummeted drastically if I'd stuck to my original plan and we'd all been carrying full packs up with us. We reached the Plateau itself a bit before lunchtime, to drizzling rain but still good views over the Plateau and to the peaks on the other side of Lake Matiri River. The Plateau was indeed covered by numerous sinkholes, definitely not a place to go walking along at night. We reached Poor Pete's Hut for lunch —a small dark two-person hut not remotely as comfortable as Lake Matiri. However we all admired the practicality of the toilet being placed over one of the numerous sinkholes.
While we were eating lunch, voices and crashing and thudding noises were heard from the scrub-covered hillside above the hut, then the vanguard of the Fit group fell into the hut clearing. This was rather surprising as we'd imagined them half-way up the Haystack by now. We then had to listen to a tale of woe. While we had been comfortably clustered around the pot-belly stove at Lake Matiri's Hut, the Fit trampers had been struggling on the heights of the Plateau. The streams crossing the Plateau had risen fast and quickly, and one tramper had been swept off her feet and thoroughly soaked while crossing one. This had left them trapped between two streams, and they'd had to camp out overnight and were now retreating back down to Lake Matiri Hut. The rest of the Fit trampers arrived and repeated their story of woe, and took the remainder of our hot water before disappearing off down to Lake Matiri to spend the night there.
We headed up the tise to the top of the Plateau, and there admired the views over to 100 Acre Plateau, and would have admired the views to Needle and Haystack had there been less rain and clouds in the way. A slippery and wet descent down the Plateau to the lake edge took the rest of the afternoon.
Back at Lake Matiri Hut were of course the Fit trampers, and as the evening wore on Craig tried to concern me about the Medium trampers, who had headed up the Matirik River Valley past numerous side streams, and of whom there were no sign. Inspection of the logbook found that two had come by during the Sunday, heading out to road end, but there was no mention of the rest. I was carefully remaining calm and collected until Craig pointed out that Paul had the ferry tickets. This was more of a concer, but no one was at all enthusiastic about heading up river in hope of finding them.
The Monday was dry, though cloudy. The side-streams were still crossable, though noticeably higher and faster than at the start. Sarah and Charlotte were by now crashing through streams and getting their boots wet as naturally as if they'd been born and bred here. Kate informed me that after three days of continually wet feet she had given up any belief that wet boots caused blisters. As if in celebration, the sun came out for our last hour as we made our way back to road end. : To our delight, not only did the fit trampers follow us, but just before the transport was due the medium trampers turned up, having started at five in the morning. Then the Nelson Lakes buses turned up, so it was the bliss of dry clean gear, and a stop at a chocolate factory on the way back to Picton and home.
Leader and scribe: Tracy Wilkinson
Trip members: Andrew Ledbrooke (long-suffering co-leader), Charlotte Salathiel, Sarah Salathiel, David Collett, Sam Buckley, Anita Su'a, Kate Robinson, Martin Hunter