St James Rogaine

For my third weekend based in Nelson I was keen to get out a bit further afield, beyond the bordering Richmond Ranges. Also, this weekend was rearing all over the country with mountain events – from the south, the glamorous Kepler Challenge 60km run in Te Anau. To the north, the infamous GOAT 21km around Ruapehu guaranteed to chew up your shoes, if not your soul. I had been looking forward to the Goat all year, but the Cook Strait proved too much of a logistical challenge. Plus, I was in the South Island already…

No Goat this year

I found my revenge in the form of the St James “Office Hours” 7-hour Rogaine held in the ranges beyond Hanmer Springs. Although I couldn’t find a team mate in Nelson, I didn’t give up. I took a gamble, and made the 300km journey to registration at St James Homestead hopeful, and nervous, to find a team… Success! The gamble paid off, I joined up with Elisha Nuttall and Joel Smith from Canterbury and Otago, and we made the ultimate team.

Elisha & Joel rearing to go at briefing

THE MAP

High above the steamy Hanmer Springs, we were now in real Canterbury high-country, and the most incredible terrain for a rogaine I’d ever seen. Take a patch of North Island farmland, add some towering 1800m mountain ranges and braided river valleys, and you get the idea. A nor-westerly was threatening us with rain so we packed for the conditions, carrying a stash of Gore-tex and merino. Joel scoffed at the briefing and repped a cotton tee-shirt, the whole day.

First up the first hill, foolish but necessary

9:30AM: The horn sounded. We darted up the nearest knoll-top for our first 10 points of the day. We were in the lead. Our strategy was to start out with some flat controls to start the day at a good pace, we headed north and pick up up 7 more controls without much trouble. The second most-valuable control in the far north had a pot of jelly-beans at the flag, we were delighted. To be my downfall or not, this lead to me ditching my salami sandwiches, chasing a sweet-toothed sugar craving all day. Only one hour had passed, how long would I last?

Jelly Beans. Yummy

Rugged high-country terrain

We had a horrible time finding #60 perched on a saddle above Horrible stream – I was convinced we were at the right saddle and high point combination, but there was good reason why the compass didn’t agree… Determined to make up time, we raced on to catch up the school team who had ashamedly crept past us.

Cresting the rocky spur to #70

After following the easy ridge up to Samoa Mound, we crashed down a scree slope into the valley heading west. We cruised through 5 easy controls, before filling up water in the DW stream. The terrain was extremely rough and made running hard at the best of times. We pushed straight up the hillside to collect #62, and while sidling round to the next stream gulley we met eventual winners Chris Forne and Nathan Fa’ave climbing in the opposite direction – clearing finding it hard work too!

Marshy, wide valleys to the west

Big scree covered slopes

With time ticking rapidly towards 7 hours, we had to start lowering our expectations, and we dropped four controls high on the St James range. We were saving our climbing energy for the big 100 pointer atop Peter’s Hill – number-one priority in our race plan. We cleared the swampy Peters Valley of the low controls and made a late dash for the summit! 1 hour 20 to go…

Battling the weather to summit Peter’s Hill

The rain that had held off all day finally made its presence known, and at 1100m above the valley plains we felt its full force. Joel, still hugging his cotton t-shirt and not much else, didn’t complain, all eyes were focussed on avoiding the prickly matagouri scrub and searching through the mist for the orange-white control flag. Boom – there it is: we punched our wrist bands and scrambled into the final stream gorge to find #72. The clue seemed straightforward: “Base of rocky outcrop/spur”.

Only a few obstacles before us to conquer

We spent 20 minutes of precious time searching the steep stream banks to find no said rocky outcrop – the 7-hour countdown was racing, find it or flee! One last desperate attempt for a valuable 70 points, we charged down the gorge to try and find it en-route to the finish checkpoint. There it was! For once it was the map who was wrong! By now we didn’t care, and battled through the shrub up & over the spur to descend to the road – five minutes to go – three of us ran the final kilometre towards the finish, with a generous helping of seconds left in reserve.

FINISH. 6:58:34

We almost cramped stiff after stopping in the rain. Back to St James homestead for a few moist sausages cake and tea – no better way to finish an awesome day in the hills. Even better was the luck of finding such mint team-mates – Joel & Elisha were solid all day – even though we’re spread across the country we’ll definitely meet up for some adventures in the future…

Nathan Fa’ave and Chris Forne powered their way through the course to pick up 1620pts from a pot of 1710. Impressive stuff from the adventure racing & orienteering champs. We were happy with our collection of 1200pts, and picked up an iced Christmas cake for our efforts. Thanks to Grant Hunter and the team at NZ Rogaine Association for organising such a sweet event.

Mount Hector

We woke from a luxurious twelve hour sleep in our campsite by Otaki Forks, already deep in the foothills of the tempestuous Tararua Ranges. When I stumbled out of the tent, I was disappointed. The brilliant sunset had been replaced with a billowing, brewing layer of cloud. Then I remembered the ranges’ reputation: the fog mountains, they were. All the more epic for a mountain run!

Camping at the trail start paid dividends, we hit the trail direct from our tenting field. Over the swingbridge and we instantly felt initiated into the ranges. There’s not much gentle about the place – a stiff climb greeted us from the offset and didn’t relent for several hundred metres of gravel-crusted ascent. Within minutes we were raised from the river-side plateau and were gazing through the gorged valleys of Otaki Forks.

It felt good. Today we were cutting into fresh, mountain blood. There’s nothing quite like venturing into a new mountain range; each step falling on virgin trail – we were excited. We soon climbed higher than volunteers could be bothered laying gravel – great-walk no more – a decisive transition into native Tararua forest and the run was now properly rugged. Beech leaves garnished the moist Greywacke, tangled in roots from warped Kamahi and Montane Podocarp. But whatever it happened to be, we puffed and ploughed over it, every drop of energy aimed at sending us higher and closer to the summit. Yes, the deadly Summit Fever was beginning to take hold.

Eventually we crested TiroTiro Knob and emerged out of the bushline to meet Field Hut. No ordinary hut, this was the first hut ever to be built in New Zealand, and is today one of nine hundred and sixty roofed siblings. It was built in 1924 by Tararua Tramping Club for the popular Southern Crossing trip traversing the ranges – the Wellingtonians obviously got sick of bivvying under canvas tarps every night. In a place this rugged I almost don’t blame them.

I took a quick geeze through the hut-book to find some familiar faces – Anton Gulley & Peter Luk’s small group of hardy AUTC mountaineers had come by this way in the deep snow of August.

We took a quick break to scoff down some Al’s Powerbars, thermal up in the chilling weather, then back to the game. The remaining subalpine Beech quickly wore thin and we were running through alpine tussock grasslands. Steering into thick fog with less than fifty metres of visibility, every change in the trail came as a sudden surprise – mostly in the form of a hill. Tough the climb was sporadic not a consistent uphill grind, giving us plenty of chances to stretch our legs over some quick going mountain marshes and the occasional knoll descent.

Now approaching Kime Hut and up to twelve… thirteen… fourteen hundred metres high the wind became ferocious and the rain followed suit, hammering into our thin jackets sideways. We were pretty glad for the shelter at Kime Hut: if I’d been going solo I’d probably have turned back at this point. It was gnarly. If some emergency struck, with only a thermal and jacket I was under-prepared for the harshness of this mountain. So close to Hector that we could taste it, we buffed up and primed ourselves for the last push. We topped and dropped Field Peak blocking us from the summit, then fronted up to the beast himself…

Our blood was pumping with anticipation of summit-dom. Matt led the assault to the memorial cross at the summit, I followed close behind, and swallowed hard when I heard his victory cry of WHAKA YEAAHH!!

HECTOR.

Mount Hector…

Toby stoked to reach the summit of Mt Hector

The weather was still atrocious at the peak, but our brains now well-marinated in toxic adrenaline – we revelled in it. Summit Fever had finally taken control. The two-metre high memorial cross was larger than I’d imagined – the plaque at its base commerates mountain-men who had died in the Great War. We breathed our last breath of summit, and set off the way we’d came, hoping to not suffer the same fate of those men. Hypothermia on this mountain was a real threat.

On the descent we passed a large group of school kids, Toby and Matt sprinted past giving them a shock but I stopped to find out they were from nearby Horowhenua College – I warned them to watch their step on this gnarly mountain, but I guess kids around here are bred tougher than in the north.

From there the job was all but done. Once back inside the sanctuary of the bushline we could relax and take shelter within the plush forest again. We sped through the long downhill, enjoying the openness of the bush, and though muddy it was very runnable – a refreshing change from dirty Ol’ Waitakeres. Every stride dowhill was a stride towards the warmer valley so we finally dried off and recovered after the pounding at Hector. At last at Otaki Forks we took a more adventurous route to the campsite along the Waiotauru River – with the rain it pushed a strong current that could be lethal with bad footing and a fall. Luckily we survived.

Exhausted,  we reflected back at camp on the incredible adventure. Gazing back towards the hills still hidden inn cloud, it was hard to imagine how rough it had been only an hour ago, over a thousand metres above. The Tararuas had proven themselves a foe worthy, and to be taken seriously. In hindsight we were lucky to have claimed the summit and escape unscathed.

Our next mission will be to repeat Graeme Dingle’s impressive traverse of the Tararua Range from North to South in twenty-four hours. Scanning along the topo map, for quite some time, we have our work cut out!

With the Summit Fever finally wearing off, we continued our journey south…

Definition: Sum~mit Fe~ver [suhm-it fee-ver] noun

Dillusional mental state experienced at high altitudes, usually experienced while climbing to a geographic high-point.

Symptoms may include:

-Compulsive desire to run or climb up steep hills

-Heightened sweating rate and deep breathing

-Loss of judgement, inability to turn back to base of mountain despite external warning signs

-Rise in frequency of cold head rushes, excitement, elevated heart-rate, extreme alertness

-Increased awareness of how awesome the universe is.

Now you’ve read the story, watch the short film: Mt Hector – The Movie.

http://www.youtube.com/get_player

Music: Requiem for a Dream – Clint Mansell

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

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)