Three Passes

I'm not sure why, but the Three Passes has never held much allure to me. Maybe it was the plod up the Waimak, or the awkwardness of transport at the other end. Maybe it was the valley travel, when around Arthurs Pass I always yearn to be on the tops. But regardless, a few days ago it happened anyway, sort of without thinking, a semi-drunken proposition at a party to run the Three Passes in a day in winter, which Greig Hamilton cruelly held me to...

5:30am: The river bed is crunchy. The stars are so bright and so uniform that it is like the deity has put a colander upside down on our horizon. Though with torch on and head down the fog of our breath leaves us stumbling on the slippery stones. We expect to get wet early, but the frozen mountains are bonding firmly with the water this morning. The braid of the Waimakariri that normally crashes into the bluff just upriver from Klondyke Corner has vanished leaving only a worn channel.

We stick on the true left, navigating by the vague silhouette of Mt Stewart and the patterns of alluvial gravel. The comfort of our lives becomes dependant for an hour on the whimsical gradation and deposition of rocks. When we hit a line of beech, we know we have crossed the Crow and we move on upriver, finally crossing just before the rough fan of Greenlaw Creek, which I remember from daylight sometime, and popping out at Carrington close to dawn.

7:40am: We leave the Waimak and head up the White river, underneath the Clough Cableway, where Greg slips, sucker punching his kidney on the only rock in the vicinity. I pause for a quick photo of Mt Murchison, the highest point of Arthurs Pass National Park.

The Taipoiti is good going, a lack of water, and good footing. Frozen waterfalls pause breathless and the canyon closes in, but ascends only steadily. Rock Wren live here, but this time of year, they will be deep in their bouldery tunnels wrapped in a lifetime of collected fluff from dead chamois. I look back to Mt Harper with interest in the long ridge.

Onwards and upwards. The Ariel Tarns are snowed over, hidden for the winter, but the Whitehorn snowfield is in good condition and the sun is rising behind us, tickling the backs of our ears with a hint of warmth.

We plunge down into the dark Cronin. Blue glacial ice hangs high on the true right. A sturdy remnant. The sepia 1970's shots in the Arthurs Pass Visitor Centre show this glacier plunging boldly down the face. THe going becomes hard, soft snow over hard rocks. We stumble our way down the valley until we reach a point where the reflected heat of the river has been enough to melt a narrow path of snow along its length. We boulder hop quickly towards Park Morpeth Hut at the junction of the Wilberforce.

12pm:Browning Pass was originally proposed as a road link. What were they thinking? With crampons on running shoes I was only too aware of my limitations. The slope is like that of a volcano, you ease up it until it steepens and you are committed and have no choice but to continue.Greig has much more experience on steep ice than me and following his crampon steps was very excavating exercise. I needed to make sure!!

The crater rim reached I collapsed with the view of the frozen Lake Browning, a vista seen many times before in tramping magazines. While back down the precipice (ok the exaggerations are growing) the Wilberforce stretched away down to the plains of the Rakaia.

We stopped here also for our team photo, squinty and rattled...

From here it was all down hill first into the headwaters of the Arahura, blocked occasionally by frozen gullies of snow. Then onto the well kept old packed tracks around Harman hut, where dracophyllums and mountain cedars give the bush character. The track to the tussockly Styx saddle can be run with ease, and then all of a sudden you can see the sea. Well down valley over Lake Kaniere towards the Hokitika coast.

4.40pm We leave the Oasis of Grassy Flat hut bathed in light. This is the best hut of the lot situated in a large basin with shear but well spaced ridges rising all around. I promise myself to come back one day, to explore the side track that heads up to Browning Biv and the tops beyond.

6.30pm We arrive finally at the road end, having succumbed again to our torch light on the short winter days. Penny is there instead of Dad, and it is great to see her. Nothing left to do, except fish and chips in Hokitika and the long drive back to Arthurs Pass. A great day out.

Just some photos from the Weekend.

Filling in the pieces of missions to do around Wellytown. This one was Titahi Bay to Makara Beach, and a bit of a walk back. Jenny, Mark, Chris, Rachel and I started early at Wellington Station catching the train and bus to Titahi Bay. On the way the going was good and the weather improving to scorching so swimming was de rigeur and sunburn post facto.

Not many necessary swims, just one I think for Mark who likes climbing, but plenty of opportunities for getting wet if you so desired. Highlights included the crazy rock, views of Kapiti/Mana/South islands, Boom Rock, Goats and milkshakes at the end.

Looking south towards Makara, and the crazy rock

Oystercatchers - Mana from Boom Rock and the team.

Photos of the day, credit Jenny Cossey

...and action photo, with close-up of perfect technique

Cattle Ridge

Gale force nor-westers generally aren't the ideal forecast for the Tararuas but a few weeks ago we headed in regardless. The team was Caspar Harmer, Greg Thurlow and us, and what a couple of companions. Muppets, but in the best of ways. Back seat from the rear vision mirror they reminded me ofStatler and Waldorf ;-)

The trip started auspiciously. We stopped for fuel at the BP heading off to the Hutt. Penny checked oil and water, and I went in to pay. It was only ten minutes down the road we realised we hadn't pumped any gas! In good humour though we then had the Rimutakas to debate exactly what our plan was. The debate was hot with the clouds cranking across the Wairarapa and backing up heavily on the main ranges. We decided to head in there though and explore some of the eastern aspects starting from the Putara Road end.

The headwaters of the Mangatainoka headwaters are swift and clear before they hit the plains and their brand and quality are used by the famous Tui brewery. The emphasis being on "used".

Early on in the trip Caspar had a date with mortality when he realised that we were reincarnated as trees.

We proceeded onwards through a gorgeous forest and down to Roaring Stag lodge, over now in the Ruamahunga catchment. The forest in the upper part of this valley is big and open, almost park like, but with good lower-level regeneration. Robin Hood country with big rimu logs providing bridges over the slower moving tributary. Roaring Stag lodge is a great spot. A newish hut, which has maintained a cosy feel, and I'm sure the pot belly would keep it roasty at night.

Our destination for the evening though, given our heinous mission hadn't started till around 1.30! was Cattle Ridge hut. A solid bushline above us. The forest though wasn't going to let us go easily. This giant twisted heavily limbed rimu had somehow won the battle for survival amongst his peers...

The bushline was won and we were rewarded with a well trodden path through the scrub belt. In the photos below, some of those tightly knitted scrub species (clockwise from top left: Celery Pine, Totara, Olearia and um maybe another Olearia) and the view back down the ridge to the Roaring Stag vicinity.

Cattle Ridge hut doesn't have the best reputation, and to be fair it is damp, but it was a cosy shelter nevertheless aided by fine food and green ginger wine. The dregs of which I found in my drink bottle some time later when I really needed it (the bottle that is!).

And I will stop the narrative for a piece of hut art by Penelope Jean Kane, aka Kenny Pain.

The next morning and the clouds were still cranking over the ridge the hut is tucked into the lieu of. It was predictably rugged topside. Penny hurried us off to a straegically located dracophyllum hollow for a pow-wow and brow beating. As you can see Greg and I were thinking hard.

We flung around a few ideas in our respite and settled on a plan of traversing Cattle Ridge and dropping down to Cow saddle which links the Ruamahanga to the Waingawa catchment. Bannister and co would have to wait for another day! From Cow Saddle one of us would run back to the Putara Road end while the others tramped out to the Kiriwhakapapa road end over the Blue Range. Cattle Ridge was a blast. A free wind tunnel experience which comprehensively tested the aerodynamics of various packs, parkas and body shapes.

At one stage Caspar and I were nearly blown away, but somehow all 65 kilos of Greg seems to be having no problem...

The descent to Cow Saddle was straight forward and Greg departed, honourably volunteering his considerable run-out ability to aid our hut bagging for the day. Greg had already visited both Cow Flat and Blue Range Huts which were on our route out. Cow Flat was pleasant and now includes a massive swing bridge, but the Blue Range isn't to be underestimated. It is a fair hike up and around to the hut. The hut itself is surprisingly interesting though. Appropriately blue painted it also features a hospital theme....

All that remained then was another big descent to a large grove of redwoods and the roadend, oh and to end like we started Caspar also spilt his guts...

A great little trip in the Tararuas with a great fun little team. Thanks guys!

Tararuas Main Range

A couple of weekends ago Penny and I and Jonathon Kennett stretched our legs around the Tararua main range loop from Otaki Forks. It was a gem of a weekend.

I was keen to avoid the grunt up past Field Hut to the main ridge having done it a few times before but Jonathon vetoed my alternative route of Plateau Stream and Pakihore ridge. He was right, it wasn't a weekend for bush-bashing. It was just down right beautiful and pleasant cruising up through the low forest then slowly gaining the sunny subalpine country, gazing at the views north and south. I spent my time wishing I knew about the different species of Olearia and looking for shortcuts to take in the next Tararua Mountain Race.

Penny chose a great lunch spot, the summit of Bridge Peak over looking the headwaters of Penn Creek and looking further north to the main range we were to Traverse, and in the distance the bulk of the Northern Tararuas, which will have to be a future weekend or two. A glider swooped us, much like last time we were tramping up here several years ago with Andrew Thompson.

Back then we stayed in the Maungahuka Hut and this was our destination this time as well. Although since 2001(ish) the hut has been replaced, to a nice new "boutique" hut, much to the dismay of the miserable Tararua hard core kill joys!;-). The traverse from Bridge Peak to Maungahuka was fun, even if a little sunny and sleepy. It felt at one stage as we sat on the summit of Maungahuka itself like we were in the sleepy fields of Wizard of Oz and were about to be set upon by a gaggle of munchkins.

The night was chilly, in fact freezing, and the new hut has a severe ventilation problem which seems to have led to a puddle of water on the top bunk. When we woke our side of the ridge, the leeward, was frozen over, though for some reason not the tarn. We left the hut quickly and it was up down, up down, traversing over a few steep little knobs on the ridge. A detour down to Aokaporangi Biv (great spot!) saw us climbing this great big rounded hill twice, but by now the temperature was starting to warm up, and the little hogs back that had formed on the ridge overnight had dispersed.

Entering the bush ridge leading up to Andersons Memorial Hut was such a pleasurable experience I had to do it twice, it was the sudden change from open tussock shrubland, around a corner and into a hallway of silver beech goblin forest, open underneath, twisted brunchs and clumps of moss hanging from the ceiling like the ancient banners of warring kings. It wasn't far along this ridge unfortunately and Andersons Memorial hut became our lunch spot.

Leaving the hut we heard a distant cooee, and were surprised when it wasn't Jonathon who had disappeared up front. We were even more surprised when after maybe an hour when we approached Junction Knob we found Ramash who had run in to meet us. His cooee had somehow travelled kilometres across the slopes of the range. Interestingly he had also been able to see my favourite high vis top from several kilometres away. Safety in the hills I'm telling you!

The descent to the Otaki took a while, 1300 metres or something straight down, and our stay in the rainforest in the vicinity of Waitawaewae hut was all too brief as we still had to get out and were running out of light. I was surprised how bad the track was from here, for a walk local to Otaki Forks, and as it got dark we were still ploughing down saddle creek. Torches out though and it was some keen, but sated trampers that arrived back in Otaki Forks after 12hours on the go. Great weekend, can't wait to get back in there!

Ahuriri

The first time I ventured up the Ahuriri it was still owned by old Williamson, though little did I know it. The legendarily foul tempered old cocky would not have been impressed at my 1984 Ford Sedan that bumped and battered its way all the way up to Shamrock Hut. We were stuck, or at least hindered many times, and the girls were generally happy to jump out on any particularly nasty stuff. The gang was Aaron, La and me, with Sofia and Kajsa from Sweden. We were just starting out on a memorable road trip which included being attacked by big mother kea in the Matuki, Copland flat hotpools and finally running out of gas way down south of Haast. That may even have been the first time I camped on the fantastic Neils Beach where the mighty Arawhata meets the sea.

Looking out the Ahuriri 2009

The long and wild Ahuriri was new territory for us, and it really is a quick path to wilderness. Find the turn off south of Omarama before you rise over the Lindis and before long you are off the beaten track. That first trip I think we stayed at Shamrock Hut though I remember a fire outside, and the next day we climbed point 2038 on the Eastern side of the valley and introduced the Swedes to scree and rotten NZ mountain tops. I remember not wanting to go to the top because of the danger to all concerned, then watching them go, before joining them at least with my conscience clean if someone got damaged, which very nearly happened.

The next trip was with Aaron again and his Mum Viv, we just went for a poke around Canyon Creek in the middle of winter, going straight up the gorge we discovered the high track on the way back. This time old Williamson caught us on the way out, and we pleaded ignorance and raved about how beautiful his station was.

Returning recently not much has changed, although there is now a locked gate before Canyon creek preventing 4wd capers. Birchwood station was bought up by the Nature Heritage Fund and the whole area is now known as Ahuriri Conservation Park. Again we returned in winter, this time it was Penny and I with our friend Elo. With Elo's sprained ankle and other plans it was only to be a short trip, a little pop over from Ahuriri Base Hut to the Upper DingleBurn.

Penny, Elo and the Spaniard

Although an old bulldozed musterers track takes you most of the way up, an ice axe was necessary on the last steep section. The snow just held our weight. Down the other side and into the Dingleburn, a river I have long heard speak of but never entered, the closest was an ascent of Dingle Peak from the Lake Hawea side. The top Dingle hut is on the bush edge of some big flats and looks downriver where the sun was setting on the ridges leading over to Dingle Peak. Early rain lead to a nervous night as we pondered our short but potentially difficult journey back over the pass in new snow. As James K Baxter describes we "rested fitfully", "Besieged by wind in a snowline bivouac".

Penny on the pass

Fortunately it always sounds worse at night. We made it back over the next day in light snow and the potential for avalanches while there wasn't too bad, maybe. A moment I remember was on the top of the ridge when the wind suddenly changed. One second northerly wafting in snow, the next second a crisper southerly blowing it away. Mountains do strange things to the weather. We decended quickly through the hare infested park like forest, safe again on the valley floor.

Looking down the Dingleburn

Mt Oates

Mt Oates is the lovely classical looking mountain you see still in the sun if you are peering in the gloom up the Mingha waiting for your loved one to stumble out of their first Coast to Coast training run. We apprached it from Williams saddle, following its southern ridge till just past where both these photos are taken looking in different directions. We then sidled high through the old snow fields to obtain the easy western ridge we followed to the lower summit. The descent past Lake Mavis and Goat pass completes a lovely long day mission.