Syme to Syme – Around the Mountain

If summiting a mountain was to conquer it, then circumnavigating a mountain would be to invite him over for dinner, have a drink,a good laugh, and raise a toast to his sunset.

On Saturday February 18th, Ben Duggan & I joined Mt Taranaki for a mountain running smorgasbord buffet, and we ate the lot. From Syme to Syme, in a day…And what an adventure!

 

Our goal was simple, to run the ‘Upper Mountain Circuit’ of Mt Taranaki – but another burning desire of mine complicated things… Syme Hut, the highest hut in the North Island was just waiting for  us to stay a night. So we stayed two. Perched on top of Fanthams Peak, Taranaki’s side-kick, we had inspiring views on a clear Friday night as we fuelled up and prepared for our giant Saturday mission. 

5:30AM, I ducked my head outside Syme’s ice-pick studded door. A streak of orange on the horizon ignited the spark of sunrise as we began our epic: AROUND THE MOUNTAIN. We out-ran the sun to the western side along the Brames Falls Track, overgrown and clearly unused even though it has some amazing scenery. Precipitous cliffs fell from Bob’s Knob, one of the many distinctive rock formations jutting from Taranaki’s higher flanks. I clung firmly to lava rock as I dropped into one murderous valley, you couldn’t afford to be half asleep on a trail like this.

Pumped – Bring it on!

Before it became unbearably hot, we dropped down along a ridge, and into the rugged western jungle. We scampered our way through vines and branches with relentless forward progress. Waiaua Gorge Hut brought back foggy memories of our long, wet tramp around Taranaki in the heart of 2010’s winter. Memories of the drenched bush were soon wiped dry, it was developing into a brilliant day with clear glimpses of the Mount bursting into our scene.

Heartily climbing out of Waiaua Gorge

We avoided the chasm of mud and micro-climbs that I knew were hidden beneath the even contours below Kahui Hut, this cut a wholesome chunk off our time up Stony River to Holly Hut. All the while, Ben was developing some serious nausea and hadn’t been able to stomach anything solid since breakfast. Not good. He almost vomited while I gratefully chowed down on fried eggs offered by some frisky hunters. Though delicious, I could appreciate he was wrenching in agony and putting up a brave front. We discussed pulling out at North Egmont, without fuel Ben’s energy levels were deteriorating fast. A hard decision to make…but we pushed on.

Empty stomach perseverance: Up the Stony River.

Somehow, the 500m climb to Tahurangi cured him. When I first heard the words “…let’s stop for food…” I knew we’d make it. We were now running true ‘around the mountain’, for miles in the distance the sidling trail was clearly etched into the mountain-side. The crest of every spur brought with it new views and new hope of finishing. But this was it: the uncertainty of completing your goal in ultra marathons is exactly what makes them so elusive, and keeps us running back for more.

Getting into my rhythm on the climb to Tahurangi. Dieffenbach Cliffs in the backdrop.

Faintly humming gliders swooped above us as we cut past Tahurangi, and the teeming masses returning from ‘Summit Trail’. My favourite section of track followed, and we really opened up our hinds for the first time. It wasn’t long however that I remembered  – the major 1074m ascent of Fanthams Peak that I had saved for lucky last… 

Stratford Plateau. Fantham’s now in Sight.

After 10 hours of tough, tough running, we needed every mental boost we could get. After all, there’s only so much PowerBar one man can handle.

Something special about Wilkie’s Pools. A highlight of the trip Getting emotional at Sir Ed’s memorial. Not far to go now…

 Knocking off the downhill through Manganui ski-field, the glorious Wilkie’s pools, and into Dawson’s Falls set us in high spirits to end the day – we were now amped on endorphins – determined to fling ourselves at the stairs – literally 1000 of them – fourty minutes later – – –

Ben – ecstatic

BOOM! 

Round the Mountain, no mean feat

We were over the moon, and had clocked in at a fraction under 11 hours. Although truly impressed at the thought of Grant Guise’s recent time of 6 hours, we were about to complete a known first. Because as we lay elated on the steps at our loop’s end, the chilling sweat on our backs reminded us our journey wasn’t yet over…

Absurdly destroyed. Scoria was not designed for tired legs

Forty-degree pitched fields of loose scree almost had the last laugh – the extended stop had sent us writhing in cramp as we summoned emergency pockets of energy to help us make it to the top. To make matters worse, cloud engulfed us for a time, not unusual on these slopes but all the more demoralising.

Home at Syme Hut, again

After enough moaning, the hut was not fantasy but once more a reality. The effort invested in the eight-dollar bottle of Corbans Merlot was well worth the trouble, and we lay back contentedly as we watched another prolific day end. We hobbled barefoot over the scoria to watch the sun achingly dip into the Tasman. Exhilarated, and broken. We collapsed inside the hut for a long time.

Taranaki – Like no other…

Arthurs No Pass – to the Brink & Beyond

Arthur’s Pass was the destination, Three Passes was the goal. Though as plans warped and moulded to the weather, the trip took on a very different flavour to what we were expecting… all for the better!

Arthur’s Pass National Park marks the northern head of the Southern Alps, hills turn to mountains, things get serious. In terms of mountaineering, Nelson Lakes is home to some good training climbs for the more treacherous climbs in Arthurs Pass and Aoraki-Mount Cook. Lacking the experience to give impressive peaks like Mt Rolleston and Mt Armstrong a real shot, we headed in to scope out the alpine brothers. 

We arrived early for our wilderness meal, so to keep our appetites at bay we nibbled on a taste of Foggy Peak climbed from Porters Pass par entrée. A cool Speights at the Summit? We’re in south now, would be a crime not to! It was a well deserved treat after two hours spent fending off 120km/h winds and sonic sprays of hail to reach the 1730m high point. Luckily, in the past others had been driven to the ground by gales on the exposed ridge too, and had built us rock shelters at vantage points along the route. We retreated from the summit with our hands shielding our faces from scree particles, and a fair dose of wind burn.

Craigieburn Forest was our campsite for the night – we were reacquainted with our old friend The Kea. How I’d missed him. What a relief to find the car’s rubber linings still in tact after a night filled with squawking Keas.

Rivers were still “burly” when we finally made our entrance to Arthur’s, so we left the Waimakariri to down-brew while we made our assault on Avalanche Peak. The climb was saturated with magnificent views of Mt Rolleston crowding the backdrop. The route from Avalanche Pk along the ridge behind me seems straightforward in summer… but hidden from sight is a 30m vertical face to be negotiated. Serious stuff.

I was plagued with regret having not brought the tent, to spend a night on a tussocky flat section below the peak would have been fabulous. Instead we spent two hours sleeping on the high plateau, dwarfed beneath Mt Rolleston.

By Tuesday the rivers had finally receded, so Ben & I tackled the Waimakariri river traverse. Mostly easy going along the wide glaciated valley flats, but further upstream the river gorged forcing us to cross each of the half dozen braids. We paired up for the wilder torrents, and with Mt Harper and Mt Speight dominating the end of the valley, we successfully made it to Carrington Hut. Filled with hot, sweaty DoC workers, and now 5pm there was no way our day was over just yet…

Reading the hut book warned us of the short yet difficult passage to come… “If you sleep in and start your tramp at 1pm arriving at Carrington by 5pm it would be foolish to think  that you would be able to reach Barker Hut before dark… If you decided to attempt such an adventure you would most likely find yourself camping just below Barker Hut on a ROCKY outcrop and returning feeling like a LOSER  but thankful to be ALIVE. We speak from experience…”

Considering that it was now 6pm, we were determined not to suffer their same misery – 7 hours in we’d still have to move fast, and stretch the daylight hours to the limit. The route along the rocky White River was almost non existent, and as the darkness closed in the cairns began to blend into the sea of boulders. With dusk came a showcase of colours etched into the cool sky beyond Mt Carrington. Colours morphed, intensified and faded with each weary turn of the head.

Mountain Art – Dusk on White River

All the while, we could see our goal – Barker Hut – neartly perched on the huge rocky buttress at the end of the valley. As we finally neared closer and began the last climb, our hearts sank. We had reached what would later be infamously referred to as: The Chasm of Doom. Each of the three hanging glaciers above Barker leaked gushing tributary flows into the main White River – the Cahill glacial stream had gouged out a deep chasm now filled with white water.

Our final obstacle, we scoured the banks for a safe place to cross. 9:30pm, night vision weakening, we helped each other across the thigh-deep current, making sure each foot placement was secure – a firm forearm grip, and Ben pulled me onto land. Our adrenaline was racing now, even though we’d crossed quite safely. Now it really was one big push to top out on the 100m high outcrop – relief. Ben climbed up a few minutes later, and was ecstatic. 10:15pm, almost twelve hours had elapsed when we finally opened the wooden door to Barker Hut.

In the morning we were able to take stock of what a prime location the hut was in. Three high glaciers poured into the gorges flowing around the hut’s rocky foundation. From the hut we eyed up the four painful hours of river-bashing that had consumed late last night. From the 3-walled toilet, my eyes followed the White Glacier to 2300m, where Mount Murchison – highest in Arthurs Pass – claimed his spot one hundred metres above.

Prime Real Estate

After sleeping off our mountain hangovers, Ben & I set off to explore the route to the base of Murchison. While lunching on a moraine spur, we scoped out the ascent along the leading ridge to Kahutea Col, where snatching a summit would be simple. We made it to the snowline, a rock dislodged, I sprained a thumb… Sunbathing on the glacier seemed like a far better idea. And so it was. You can’t be epic all the time.

Ben soaking it up at the base of White Glacier

Braving a dip in the Barker Tarn

As our final night at Barker Hut dimmed, we watched misty cloud passing over Harman Pass way below, and creeping our way… minutes later, our screens were blank. Minutes later, the white-out had passed. Hours later the hut rattled furiously and shook at its supports – a fantastic shelter for Cantabrians – the whole night wind powerful as a magnitude 7 earthquake blitzed Barker to oblivion. For once I was glad not to be in a tent.

Suited up in full weather gear, we braved the return journey with the assurance that we knew the route. Misty rain accumulated, and the rivers rose noticeably, so to cross the Taipoiti we jumped in the ‘Clough Cableway’ keen for a novelty crossing. This ancient piece of machinery was built to remember a 16 year old who had died crossing the raging White river. As it turned out, the machine was more dangerous than crossing the river by a long-shot!

Three thick iron cables hung across the 30m wide river, holding a small cart to be manually winched across. It was great flying across the river, the cable whizzing past my face, rain in my face, river gushing way below. Not so great was getting my hand caught between the pulley and wire – if I wasn’t wearing gloves my hand could have been seriously injured. My screams to Ben across the river were drowned out in the rain. Luckily he was tired and released the winch, not a second too soon…

Somehow, the return trip still took just shy of 12 hours. Mission and a half! Returning to Nelson along the West Coast completed our deluxe South Island tour. This was Ben’s first real taste of South Island tramping, he bravely pushed himself to his limits, and was hugely satisfied with the trip. Though when he returns, he’ll more likely be gliding than tramping!

Arthur’s Pass – a great place for everything

Nelson Lakes

The classical Nelson Lakes view: Lake Rotoiti from St Arnaud

Nelson – the top of the south. So its fair enough that it hosts the magnificent Nelson Lakes National Park – the northern-most strain of the Southern Alps.

Despite their grandeur, I couldn’t find anyone to accompany me on the ambitious journey I’d set through the park this weekend. So I took to the mountains solo. No need to worry, I was well equiped, into my new 25 litre pack I stashed a sleeping bag, goretex jacket, a few thermals and plenty of food. A short ninety minute drive from Nelson to Robert Ridge, I left straight after work and was on the trail by 6pm – onwards to Speargrass Hut!

Crossing the Speargrass Creek bridge to the hut

Stage 1: Robert Carpark -> Speargrass Hut (1hr15)
No time to lose, I was off. Still getting used to running with a 6-8kg pack on my back, I had a leisurely jog to the hut, sidling around the head of Mt Robert and alongside Speargrass Creek. The hut was perched in an open clearing of, surprisingly, speargrass – late evening cloud hung around the epic looking gulley towards Lake Angelus… I decided to call it a night here, and rest up for the big trek tomorrow.

Israeli Man saying goodbye at Speargrass Hut

I shared a breakfast of PowerBar muesli in a bag with an Israeli couple, and a British tramping family who were forever asking their son Thomas to kindly brush his teeth. Too bad I’d ditched mine – unnecessary weight! The water was so pure, my teeth were cleaned to mountain-stream fresh breath standard.

Stage 2: Speargrass Hut -> Sabine Hut (1hr40)
On the road at a spritely eight o’clock, I took to the gradually declining trail to Sabine Hut with gusto. I passed a few small forest tarns along the way, uniquely out of place. In the huge scheme of time, I cut through the still forest as a momentary blur.

Blue blur through the greenery

Was this a great mass of blue sky appearing through the trees, or the huge still expanse of Lake Rotoroa? The air was still but for the irritating buzz of sandflies – I avoided being their morning tea and spent mine swimming in the lake. Cool and refreshing, I drank as I swam. The lake’s surface coated in spongy moss gave my feet a good massage before moving on down the Sabine River.

Early morning bath at Rotoroa

Stage 3: Sabine Hut -> West Sabine Hut (2hr30)
Travelling down the true right bank of the river made for an idyllic run. It felt like true South Island, open grassy patches with views down the river to the high 2000m peaks still holding snow at the tops. The track was mostly flat, except for a few “step-ups” as an Australian tramper put it, the trail was fast going helping me to cut the tramping time to West Sabine hut in half.

Cairns lead the way

Taking a break by the river

To cross the river though, not quite so easy! – the bridge had been smashed in a flood, and the warped wreckage was still hanging in the blue rush. Thanks to some local knowledge, I found  a log conveniently lying across the river, which I waltzed across. As it turned out, this one broken bridge would affect almost everyone on the circuit and everyone planning to come in the next week – with big downpours forecast, the tame Sabine would soon become a raging, rising torrent.

Tricky traverse

Stage 4: West Sabine -> Upper Travers (2hr50)
After a cramp relieving lunch with a fellow solo Swiss man, I braved the brutal climb ahead up to Travers Saddle. Still sucking down gallons of the sweet stream nectar, I realised I was over-hydrating when I started stumbling in a dizzy haze all over the trail. Too much of a good thing – I decided my blood electrolytes must have been diluted from all the drinking, so I rushed a sachet of Vitasport into my reservoir, along with a gel-shot of Leppin. I slapped my face together, and it made all the difference. December two years ago I was cruising down this steep scree slope with Rangitoto College tramping friends. What a challenge attacking the slope from this direction! Every so often I paused to catch my breath, but looking back to see where I’d come, my breath was instantly taken away….

Magical run

 I reached the saddle at 4pm, exhausted but revelling. Mt Travers looked dangerous, a lot sharper than I’d remembered… Being alone high on a mountain pass made most things seem more extreme, although I was still in just a t-shirt and shorts, there was barely a zephyr of wind pushing through the saddle – bizarre. The weather always a huge controlling factor had made today’s epic journey a lot tamer than it could have been.

The Triumph of Travers Saddle

I hopped down the boulder field a few hundred metres to Upper Travers hut, staunch at the head of the Travers Valley. There I met a real crowd, a swift contrast to my high wilderness experience minutes before. Older folk from Melbourne, two brothers from Arizona USA, as well as the usual European cocktail. They were all interested to hear about my quest – they had not yet been over the saddle, so I shared my tales about the wonders of the valley yonder.

Stage 5: Upper Travers -> John Tait (1hr)
Although I relished the company and donations of tea and chocolate, I was itching to get a bit further before dark to make Sunday a short one. My feet became itchy after two hours in the hut… and before I knew it I was waving to my new friends from down the valley before disappearing into the bush again. But to my horror, when I finally made it to John Tait just before dusk, the hut was empty! This second contrast of the day, a very long day, made for a very lonely night. I set the fireplace ablaze to keep me company, the licking flames and crackling beech leaves my only amigos in the huge hut. I collapsed into my new Mountain Hardware Phantom 45 sleeping bag, enjoying all 500 grams of down powered warmth.

Warmth

Stage 6: John Tait -> Hopeless (1hr40)
As it turned out, the head-start I gave myself outweighed itself as a sleep-in. Well worth it. The green-moss goblin-like forest woke me up as I followed the Travers river downstream to the infamous Hopeless Valley.   Ironically, it really did live up to its name this time two years ago – heavy rains flooded the creeks and we were trapped an extra day – we escaped barely before Search & Rescue were called! So I started up the creek with trepidation, along with a huge dose of nostalgia and flashes of déja-vu.

Harry Hancock & co – Hopeless Hut founder

The creek was so low, a mockery to our epic survival battle back in 2009. Hopeless Hut had even had a makeover, the cracked windows and rusted sink replaced and shining new. This hut, one of my favourites in NZ, has rich history – and by some great fortune, when I arrived I met the Harry Hancock – the man who built the hut back in the 1950’s! It was opened by none other than Sir Edmund Hillary. Its vintage gives the shack real character, I find the new modern huts lack soul. But in the wilderness a roof is a roof! If its rainin’ you ain’t complainin’.

Stage 7: Hopeless -> Angelus (2hr50)
I gritted my teeth for my last hurdle – I reminded myself that from Sunset Saddle its all downhill to the finish. This was my mantra as I picked my way through the vaguely marked cairns up the the rugged scree basin. Not basin, ocean. An ocean of rock determined to sink my ankles and slow my progress towards the saddle surface. Deciding that the markers had been designed for people coming down from Sunset, I was all but left stranded in terms of navigation and had to decipher my own route up around the daunting waterfall face and around the misty alpine tarns.

Mountain Arena

Alone in this wild mountain arena now felt the most remote of all. It was overwhelming, and almost hard to breathe at times as my guts clenched in a sensation overload. Mist crept over the ledge I’d just climbed, and with it a jagged whiplash of chill forced me to a thermal for the first time. Again the extended effort of climbing almost 1000 metres from the valley floor, combined with low sugar levels was making me feel delirious – I gave up holding out for lunch at the hut, and stopped just below Sunset Saddle for a much needed boost. And that I did, I cut steps up the last snowy slope to finally reach the saddle, marked with a huge mound of rocks. Phew. From Hopeless to [the wings of] Angelus.

Stage 8: Angelus -> Robert Carpark (1hr50)
Feeling absolutely shagged by the time I stumbled into the new hut at Lake Angelus, the warden took pity on me and boiled me up a heavenly cup of tea. I had two. Of the five approaches to Angelus, the route via Sunset Saddle is the hardest and most untracked of all – in fact it’s not even marked on the map! Definitely the most satisfying though.

Warden gazes over the lake to Sunset Saddle

Now all that lay before me was 12km of snaking ridgeline over the open rolling tops to Mt Robert. The trail was rough as it sidled the notable Julius Summit, I skipped over plate-like shards of rock crumbling from the Roman’s terraces. At last Lake Rotoiti re-appeared, heralding the incredibly nauseasly steep, zig-zagging “Pinchgut” track. I collapsed in a heap at the car park, with no one else around except the beech trees towering around me, unfazed and unaware of the journey I’d just completed.

Descending the Pinchgut It was hugely satisfying to conquer the whole Sabine-Travers circuit in just a weekend, and such a success that this may be the first of more multi-day runs to come. The “Solo Experience” was new and exciting, especially when tested out for the first time in the magnificent setting of Nelson Lakes. Though for every awesome moment of silence, there was always a tinge of loneliness. For safety’s sake I’ll keep solo trips at a minimum, as long as I can convince someone to join me – that means you!    C’EST FINI

Run statistics
Distance: 74.2km (7km, 40km, 27km)
Vertical gain: 4733m
Max slope: 55% (Sunset Saddle route)
Huts: 8 (Speargrass, Sabine, W. Sabine, U. Travers, John Tait, Hopeless, Angelus, Relax Shelter)

Elevation Profile

.

Mt Ruapehu Summit Run

Exams done and dusted, I farewelled my friends in Auckland and began my southward journey: The Big Move – to Nelson. I gathered some mates to join me on my traverse of the North Island, Matt Ogden and Toby Scott. Both excellent orienteers, we were sure not to get lost on the way, and also sure to capture the optimal route to Wellington. I lured them along to the road trip with promise of grand mountains; they weren’t disappointed. We were out of Auckland late so we literally didn’t stop until we hit the central plateau, where we tasted the sweet volcanic waters of Taupo Nui a Tia.

Arriving late afternoon we were only planning a short jaunt into the Kaimanawa Ranges to the east of the Desert Road… but seeing the snow flaked peaks of Ruapehu from Lake Taupo… oh so tempting… We spontaneously swung a right, and despite the warnings of DOC Turangi, slipped on running shoes at the Top-O-the-Bruce and began the climb up Mount Ruapehu. Inspired by the Swiss machine, Euli Steck, and his mesmorizing speed climb of the North Face of the Eiger, we were spurred on towards the summit.

We were surprised by the volume of snow still lying in the valleys of the northern side of the mountain, but from Iwikau Village we followed the rocky ridges and mostly stayed out of the snow for the first half. Matt separated himself at one point from us trying to take a quicker snowy route up one valley, but found himself faced with some serious rock climbing. Having watched Dean Potter free-basing the north face of the Eiger he decided he wasn’t quite up for it yet. 

It was gnarly running up the jagged spurs to the NZAC Alpine hut, but we pushed a solid pace, the fear of impending twilight hurrying us upwards. We gained the hut in a fifth of the time it took me to walk with pack and crampons in winter – such an awesome feeling – running light with minimal gear made the mountain seem so accessible, and with daylight-saving hours our chances of making the summit were looking great. Though lacking an ice-axe, we shot down the self-arresting practice slope with confidence knowing there was sufficient friction between the icy snow and our bare thighs… Phwoarrr.

Still climbing higher into the mountain, the rocks thinned out and we found ourselves trying to perfect our snow-running technique, something you get little practice with in Auckland. The drop into the popular Whakapapa Glacier was too steep to risk without ice axes, so we ascended Glacier Knob – a great route choice, a final surge through the saddle and we burst out onto the spectacular Summit Plateau. 2620m above sea level, we were the highest men on the North Island… Achieving our goal in just over eighty minutes, our minds were blown – on top of the world! Believe it or not, this was Matt’s first mountain experience. He’d been reluctant to try his hand at trail running, he felt naked without a map in hand. But now, he was convinced. A mountain running convert, to the rush of running high above the clouds…

The late evening mountain breeze was picking up so we didn’t hang around – a quick reccie up Cathedral Rocks peak and over to breathe in the tangy aroma of Crater Lake, before striding down the hospitable Whakapapa Glacier. Landing into soft snow on the way down made it feel inviting to heel-strike; Matt Ogden fell into this trap and felt the burn on his shins later. Toby meanwhile mastered the forefoot glide across the snow. We lost our height half the speed that we gained it, and soon we felt the pounding transition onto the jagged rocks again. Mist rolled up the valley, and stripped away our visibility – this made it difficult to pick the best route down; too lazy to get out compass or map I just winged it – and paid the price. I ended up approaching the ski-field village from the west, and so gifted myself a few extra valleys to climb up and over before joining the others at the car.

 The terrain here is remarkably rugged and its no wonder some of NZ’s top mountain runners gather in December to run the GOAT, a 21km race around Ruapehu’s crustiest flanks from Whakapapa to Turoa. Unfortunately I’ll miss the race this year, locked away in the mountainous surrounds of Nelson. 

Route to the Summit Green – Fast, Red – Slow

Running to the Summit Plateau of Ruapehu was an incredible experience. For an area renowned mainly for the Tongariro Crossing, a trip that is only really worth doing in the snow, I’d recommend more people to have a crack at climbing Ruapehu. Given some basic mountain experience and skills, the summit is easily attainable and makes for an awesome day out. Enjoy the film below to the sound of Radical Face – ‘Welcome Home’.

http://www.youtube.com/get_player

Ruapehu – the Movie

Mt Taranaki – Preview

Next weekend I plan to take on the mighty Mount Taranaki. This will be the second trip to the ‘Naki this year, I last visited in the April autumn break for a short stint around the eastern side. We were dealt another lesson of respect for Taranaki after this stunning weather at Manganui Lodge turned foul in a matter of minutes, foiling our attempt on Fanthams Peak. We were forced to turn back after climbing into strong winds and low visibility, a dangerous combination on the most predictably unpredictable of mountains.

Mt Taranaki from Manganui Lodge

Here is the plan:

Saturday Oct 1st – climb to Syme Hut from Dawson Falls in time for sunset, sleep soundly at 1966m.

Sunday Oct 2nd – descend to Dawson Falls, meet Edward Lawley and run AMC circuit clockwise, aiming for ten hours.

Fanthams Peak, Mt Taranaki – April 2011

The 50km circuit will definitely be a tough challenge: slow-going bog &vine jungles mar the lower tracks of the west side, while stiff climbs and winter conditions will try to break us if we take the high tracks.

I tramped the AMC circuit over five days in July 2010, after this fantastic trip I was hooked by the area. It will be an interesting change to go light and see if we can take on the beast in one go. Wish us luck!

Planned route: Dawson Falls -> Lake Dive Hut -> Waiaua Gorge Hut via high track -> Kahui Hut -> Holly Hut -> Dawson Falls via high track.

Mt Taranaki tracks

Rampage in the Ruahines

Of Mi-Goreng and Mountains


Ruminations of a rollicking rampage through the resplendent Ruahines…
August 28th – September 1st 2011

Day One – I began the first day with a debut run in Matt Ogden’s Red 1 course at Woodhill Forest, a good two-hours of intense orienteering. Matt set a challenging course, I stumbled into the course with a 15 minute catastrophe at the start. But I soon got my eye into the map and knocked off the rest of the course relatively cleanly, though slowly compared to Duncan Morrison’s blistering 59 minute win.

I was inspired to venture to the Ruahines after watching this mesmerizing helicopter fly-over of the ranges. “I need to check that out for myself!”, I thought, so I advertised the trip at the Tramping Club’s spring Trips Launch. My sales pitch was easy – showing the helicopter flyover of the snow-capped ranges was enough to gather three other keen companions – Matthew Lillis, Helen Liley and Stefan Wender.

We were out of Auckland by 3pm, and in the foothills of Mangaweka climbing through steep farmland by 10:30pm. Ruahine Forest Park – the old green sign welcomed us in. We crunched through the first snow about halfway up the 900m climb as we followed the Beech covered ridge by headlamp. It was incredibly still in the night, but even though we couldn’t see the mountain we could definitely feel it. The bushline slowly faded into open tussock, and after a few false alarms we reached Purity Hut. 1:35 am. No better way to kick off an epic!

Stefan stoked to arrive at Purity

Day Two – We woke up with a shock of realisation: we were on top of a mountain – not your everyday wakeup call! From the angle of my bunk, it seemed that we were caught in a whiteout, the window was white. In a mad scramble across the slippery hut floor I rushed outside to the… Wow. A mad war dance ensued around the hut, an innately carnal celebration of the vista – snow covered ridges appeared from all around, with Mt Ruapehu & friends across the plateau.

Beginning the trek up the ridge to Wooden Peg

We ploughed through the deep snow along the rolling ridge towards a small peak named Wooden Peg, the great Peg-Bagging mission had begun. Iron Peg was next, followed by the magnificent Golden Peg herself: Mangaweka. We ate lunch at 1724 metres, couldn’t have been a better day for it. 

Stefan, Matt, Me – Summit of Mangaweka

Helen strolls along the majestic ridgeline

And so began the epic descent. The eternal question: ridge or river? To stay in the safety and serenity of the ridge? Or the excitement and potential danger of the gushing gulley stream? We’d had enough of ridges so we dropped into Trig Creek to find it easy going, apart from several involuntary self-arrests. It was a winter wonderland walk down the snowy stream-side.

We later forked onto Iron Peg Creek, and set up camp at the main confluence with the larger Kawhatau River. DOC had told us there may be a shortage of camping spots by the river. Ah, that depends what you’re looking for we thought, all we needed was two trees to set up our bivvy! We huddled for warmth by our blazing camp fire, and used the embers to cook our creamy bacon, onion, capsicum pasta. By twilight we heard the unique whistling of the rare Whio – blue duck…

Fire by the Kawhatau River Waterfall Hut

We turned from Waterfall hut into the tight valley that channeled Pinnacle Creek. An easy going stream bash soon became challenging as avalanche paths took hold of our route. Every so often, a false step would shoot through the surface, an alarming reminder of the icy stream gushing beneath our feet. We opted for the safety of the steep tussock and scree coated banks until the avalanche ravaged gulley was our only option. We picked our way up through the upturned chunks of dirty snow into the guts of the climb. At one point we caught sight of a Karearea, a mountain falcon, swooping about the snow tops, surveying his territory.

Climbing the rugged Pinnacle Creek

We took a brief stop near the saddle, and as we taunted the mountain’s summer-like conditions, and before our eyes we witnessed the power of the range. Mist moved in from the north, obscuring the peaks above Waterfall hut. Lets go! The final push to the saddle was almost crampon-worthy but so short that we braved the climb with firm footing into the snow and solid punches of the axe through the icy crust.

We climbed towards a patch of dry rock and tussock slightly higher than the saddle, so when we crested onto the ridge we could see the signs pointing back towards Iron Peg. No way were we heading back just yet – we had unfinished business with the Ruahine.

Weather closing in as we began the traverse

What was to follow would go down on each of our records under “dodgiest thing I’ve ever done”. When scrambling across a narrow rock slab with a loaded pack on all fours seems better than walking around, you know you’re in trouble. Luckily the route was easily to follow, we could see the razor-back spine ridge trail away to the right. Unluckily, the ridges were razor-sharp and one slip either side wouldn’t be pretty! And so we swallowed hard, and began the trance like procession across each ridge to the rhythm of:

Left foot

Right foot

Ice axe

Breeeathe…

Repeat

Nerve racking ridge traverse…

And so this cycle carried on in almost silence, apart from calls of “You all right back there?” Yeah, fine, never been better!

This fear-fueled adrenaline march was mentally exhausting, and it was quite difficult to keep the images of falling off the slope away from my mind. Luckily the snow was soft so we could stamp deep footsteps in anchoring ourselves to the slope. When we finally descended to a solid track, we were incredibly relieved! We hadn’t stopped for several hours, none of us was overly keen for a lunch break with one leg either side of a ridge top, so by 3pm we were ravenous for lunch. Glad to be in the safety of bush again, we dropped down steeply off the ridge to the Pourangaki river and began constructing camp. Here is the result of three engineers let loose in the bush:

Moments and axial forces balanced

Result: Bivvy of Champions

We chowed down vast quantities of salty Mi-Goreng inside the bivvy while reading Anton Gulley’s tramping diary from 2008. Here is an excerpt: “December 27th 2008. Again I just want to point out that even though I did not have a formal tramping trip I was not being lazy this weekend. Taitomo Island is a short climb 5 minutes round the rocks south of Piha and can walked at low tide…” After a soggy night in the bivvy, we threw all our wet gear in our packs and headed towards Pourangaki hut for breakfast. Would you like oats with your oats sir?

Crossing the Pourangaki River

Our final hurdle before the sanctuary of Kelly Knight hut was the Pourangaki tops. With growing fatigue, we pushed towards the bush line for a third time, and with the altitude gain we felt the bitter whip of exposure heading into a hazy whiteout. There was no trail to follow, and slushing through steep, deep snow was a huge effort. Like a cycling peloton we cycled through leaders to share the load.

Through the whiteout…

At the peak we discovered a possum who had courageously climbed as high as he claws could muster, and upon reaching the sign he collapsed into an icy heap. If only he could pass onto his fellow possums the tale of his conquest…

Navigating the tops was tricky in the 20m of visibility we had – Matt Lillis took a compass bearing and we three fanned off in the direction to find the next pole. Eagle-eyed Stefan found his calling in life with a string of remarkable pole sightings, the rest of us squinted into the foggy distance before we could make them out, meanwhile Stefan strode boldy through the deep snow like a man on a mission.

Matt checks the bearing

We managed to avoid walking off any bluffs, and safely made it down the mountain for the final time. The relief slowly sank in that we had overcome all the biggest obstacles so far, and with hardly any mishaps – this was unheard of as far as trips to the Ruahines go, in winter no less.Until that point, Helen was pretty adamant that she was too good for the hut – the rest of us were content to spend the last night in luxury! She quietly conceded just before arriving at Kelly Knight hut – and old hunter’s cabin on the outskirts of the forest park named after a famous hunter. Our relief of surviving the ranges almost came too soon, as I foolishly lit the iron fire stove with the bottle of Fuelite still on the bench! Flames licked over the fuming bottle top for a split second before I realised and quickly swiped it away… Phew – major catastrophe averted! We all stood in silence for about ten seconds, quietly internalising a series of complicated situations in our head, ranging from newspaper headlines to projectile motion equations.

Kelly Knight Hut – luckily still standing

I was soon forgiven, and we tapped into a celebratory bottle of Champagne by the roasting fire while eating a pot of … well… everything. Bliss. The last morning was almost the hardest; our clothes were now thoroughly saturated in mud, sweat, and Ruahines – a toxic substance that. An overgrown trail sidled around the lower reaches of the Pourangaki river before spitting us into farmland. Over the last fence, and we relunctantly farewelled the Ruahines. Five days in the wilderness without seeing another soul, now that’s off the beaten track.

I’d recommend a venture in the Ruahines to anyone who wants to experience some raw nature, and a top transalpine journey. For a winter mission you’ll need a good amount of back country experience and basic snow skills.

Western Ruahines

And on the seventh day we rested.

And on the eighth day … 

Further reading: Read about another trip to the same area in even more extreme winter conditions

Trip: Purity, Pourangaki, Kelly Knight (in Winter)

Round the Mountain Ruapehu

Alastair McDowell, Kristian Day and Ruby Muir


The Round the Mountain track circumnavigates Mount Ruapehu, one of the most predominant volcanic cones in the North Island. Its a stunning journey through sub-alpine terrain and now one of my favourite trips in New Zealand.

NEARBY TOWN/CITY: Whakapapa Village, Tongariro National Park
EXACT LOCATION: Walk up Bruce Rd, past DOC info centre, past Shelter. Whakapapaiti track begins down lane to the right off Bruce Rd.
TOTAL ROUTE DISTANCE: 65km
TOTAL ASCENT & DESCENT: Around 2,000m
TIME TO COMPLETE: Elite-12hrs; Weekend Warrior -16hrs+; Non-stop tramping–20 hours
TYPE OF TRAIL RUN: Loop. Best run anti-clockwise, starting/ending at Whakapapa Village. This way you tackle the tough “Goat” section first on fresh legs, and finish on the easy, board-walked “Tussock Traverse” section over Tama Saddle.
DIFFICULTY: Very Hard.
DEFINING CHARACTERISTICS: Sub-Alpine, technical, remote
START GPS: Latitude -39.20316060 S, Longitude 175.53980827 E
FINISH GPS: Same as start
BEST MAP/S: NZ Topo50 BH34, BH35, BJ34, BJ35 (Mostly on BJ34)

Early start at Whakapapa Village

RUN IT: The best time to run the Ruapehu circuit is between October – May, as this is an all-day affair you’ll want to maximize daylight hours, and being a remote alpine environment, bad weather can also make this run dangerous. Plenty of food, thermals and a wind/rain-proof jacket are essential. Water is not so much an issue, you can fill up at each hut (spaced roughly 2-3 hrs run apart), and also in the clean streams and rivers. Ruapehu’s eastern side is particularly remote. Once you pass Ohakune Mountain Rd and venture into the desert, you are miles away from civilization. In good conditions however, this all adds to the experience!

Boardwalk by Mangaturuturu

Begin your run before dawn and head along the Whakapapaiti track, through lush Beech forest and crossing several bridged stream crossings until you reach the Whakapapaiti Stream. You will cross to the west side, where you make your way through muddy tussock lands, re-cross at the forked section of the stream shortly before reaching the hut. About 2 hours in, you should wake up the trampers and invite yourself in for some morning coffee fresh off the primus.

The Waterfall face

Mangaehuehu

Continue on the trail and you’ll soon intersect the Round the Mountain circuit track, and begin “The Goat” section – steep, gnarly gullies will work you up and down, but with any luck, stunning views of Paretetaitonga will inspire you onwards. The trail swings you down a spur where you pass the pristine Lake Surprise, descend a steep gulley to Mangaturuturu hut. Follow the boardwalk to the river, cross, and the trail continues to the left, towards the Cascades waterfall. This steep waterfall face is a tough and long climb which may have even reduced Sjors Corporaal to a power-walk.

Waihianoa Glacier

Jog down Ohakune Mountain Rd for 3km, and reconnect the track at car park to your left. The section to Mangaehuehu hut is a well groomed trail, and features a 39m waterfall – Ruapehu’s highest. Soon after, you negotiate a 3-wire bridge crossing, and some interesting sub-alpine running through alpine herb fields. Refill your bladder here before heading into the wilderness that is the Rangipo desert. The trail turns into a poled route shortly after leaving the hut, so a compass would be useful in low visibility conditions. The Waihianoa glacial valley is spectacular; stop for a moment to take it in. Then blitz the descent and carry your momentum up the following, grueling, ascent. Apart from this workout, climbing is moderate. Dig it in – follow the undulating traverse across barren desert towards Rangipo hut.

Rangipo Desert

No crampons nece

Once you reach the Tukino Ski field road you are on the home-straight, only 27km of fast running remains. The landscape is vast and exposed – the never-ending rocky horizon and your growing fatigue will make progress seem futile. Now is a good time for some energy gels to raise your sugar levels and morale. Resist the temptation of a hot meal at Waihohonu Hut; you will never be able to leave! Instead cut the corner to the west and clip onto the Tama lakes track and begin the (barely noticeable) ascent to Tama Saddle. Switch on the headlamps, and finish strong along the easy board-walked track. Listen out for the gushing Taranaki falls, and flickering lights of the Chateau…

You’ve done it, a complete circumnavigation of the North Island’s most predominant mountain. “One does not simply walk into Mordor… one simply runs!”

POST RUN GOODNESS: The Tussock Bar. Drive 50m past Chateau, on the left. This bar/restaurant is an absolute jewel after this epic mission. I highly recommend ordering a plate of Volcanic Wedges, with extra bacon & cheese. Victory is yours!

Self transcendence at the end of the 13-hour journey