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

You win some, You lose some: In the Kahurangi

I lay on the ground in agony. My ankle throbbed, sending shoots of pain up my calf. Alone in the wild Kahurangi Jungle, I wondered why I put myself through such hardships. And still a few kilometres away from my car, time was ticking down to the Cook Strait ferry crossing, far away in Picton.

Rewind one week…


…I find myself climbing up the easy Chummies Track with three friends – my first trip to the Kahurangi. Although the hut waiting for us at the bushline was rarely visited, the bushy ridge track was smooth & clear, showing little sign of the floods and slips that had devastated nearby Nelson during the week. The relentless 72-hours of rain had finally let up for us this weekend, so when we finally emerged onto the ridge top, the clouds swirled around the surrounding summits for a sweet sunset.

Wild Tussocky Ridgeside

John Reid Hut was a small 6-bunker with an open fireplace – put to good use for our creamy pasta concoction. Another advantage to taking it slow – a hot meal at the end of the day! Sure beats cheese & crackers for dinner as I had done at Nelson Lakes.

The stately John Reid Hut

We were too lazy to get up early for the sunrise, but luckily my cousin Raymond Salisbury was onto it when he came here. This is what we slept through… a really incredible place caught at just the right moment.

Mt Patriarch – Raymond Salisbury

First thing on Sunday, we climbed through thick tussock and snowgrass, forging our own path to gain a better view of the territory. Each of us tried to find the easiest route up top, to balance on the knife edge of the imposing ridge leading towards Mt Patriarch.

Mt Baldy to the left, Gomorrah hiding under cloud in centre

Peering over the edge, all of the Kahurangi lay before us. Vast and remote, you could easily spend a year lost in these mountains, we thought. We were more than satisfied with just a weekend for now. The sharp granite face of Mt Baldy gleamed, stealing attention from Mt Sodom and Gomorrah close behind.

What a ridge

“This ridge is tops!”

We were having way too much fun trekking along the ridge and lying in the snowgrass lapping up the views, that time flew by overhead and took our chance at the summit in it’s beak. Shortly after we spotted a Kea – shouldn’t you be stealing boots in Arthurs Pass? We weren’t too worried, today the view of the impressive peak was enough. 

What a day – heading down to the Gibbs Valley

Considering his options…

We wandered along the valley floor beside the meandering Wangapeka, all very relaxed. We were back in Nelson for dinner, a perfectly good trip. There was nothing painful or hard about the trip, the views and the company was great. And all that stuff. But…

Wangapeka River

Fast forward a week…

This isn’t just another story of a day spend discovering a new ridgeline.

This is about a search for my roots – back to the source. Following more than the line of a rocky knife edge, today I was following my line of ancestors – following the footsteps of triple Great Grandfather John Park Salisbury, the man who pioneered the first tracks and farming through these ranges. While some of us we were tramping in Goretex-lined boots and carrying 500-gram sleeping bags, JP would have been forging this same route with gear that belonged in the mid 1800s. And all without the help of topomaps and DoC markers.

While driving to work the following Friday morning, the crisp ridgeline and smattering of snow on the Twins and Mount Arthur was irresistible. Learning of the early 2pm finish for Christmas, it was a no-brainer! Amped, I flew along the coastal highway past Motueka to begin my spontaneous evening trip.

However, my troubles started early… I overestimated the off-road capabilities of my Nissan Pulsar and bottomed out on the muddy road to the track! I spun my New Balance wheels back to a family Christmas camp where I found help to haul me out of the ditch. Phew. 

IN MY HASTE to make up lost time, I found myself half an hour down the track with NO FOOD! Devastated, I plodded back to the car ready to drive home, ready to give up. But wracked with guilt as I could feel Old Man Salisbury watching from above, I couldn’t leave yet. I grabbed my food bag with a sigh, and for the fourth time, I ran into the hills…

Dense Kahurangi forest, penetrating streams

A few hours before at the Christmas camp, I’d been told the track “wasn’t too flash”. “Five hours to the hut”, they said. I’d smiled and told them “E kore e mau ia koe, he wai kai pakiaka – A foot accustomed to running on roots makes the speediest runner”.

But now in the thick of it, pushing onto 8pm, crossing deep streams with deep climbs either side rutted with deep, thick roots… I was starting to feel like the slowliest runner. Desperately trying to cut down the tramping time as I wasn’t keen to arrive at midnight, I threw myself at every climb burning my legs to oblivion and leaving a salty trail in my wake.

I felt lost travelling up the steep valley, slips and windfalls had disguised the trail, sending me into a bush-cracking frenzy. Through the thick canopy I tried to pick up features around me, but I was already falling into “WHERE IS THE HUT” mode, where anything could look like the hut. A patch of sky must mean the Ellis Basin! …but time wore on, twilight darkened, and the climb steepened…

I had earlier dreamed of an epic midnight ascent of the mountain, I can always sleep later right? Wrong – I conked out within minutes inside the smoky hut, though my empty stomach soon stirred me to down a few mouthfuls of cheese and bread. Exhausted. Why? 

Late dusk arrival: Mount Arthur

Mt Arthur, Ellis Basin Hut at dawn. If only…

I sprung awake at 6.15am after a fitful sleep. Spurred on by fear of missing the ferry, I set an unofficial record for leaving a hut, from the horizontal to the vertical in 16 minutes. Somehow, the run down took exactly the same time as the ascent. Last night’s mission and lack of sleep slowed my reflexes, so every rooty descent was technical and awkward. At my lowest point I managed to catch both feet under roots: I tumbled to a jolt, whacking my knees on rocks in the process…

I drove off, aching & hungry, looking back enviously at Mount Arthur, glowing mockingly in early sun. This means I’ll have to come back now!

The Hard Way

Although this could have been a great two-day wilderness experience, I’d somehow turned it into a rushed, lonely, and painful twelve hours! Back to the drawing board? Once I had boarded the ferry and my fear of missing Christmas in Auckland had subsided, I could relax and rethink the trip. I’d learned a few lessons that’s for sure. But did I regret the trip – should I have stayed home and packed? 

Ellis Basin Caves

.Wondering why I had chosen such an unused, obscure route to Mt Arthur I was surprised to later find out that the Ellis Basin marks the entrance to the deepest cave in the Southern Hemisphere! In January 2010 an extreme team of Kiwi cavers led an expedition into the giant cave network, to go where no-one had gone before. My trip seemed worthwhile after all. Next time I’ll take a rope.

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

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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.

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

Cowan – Pararaha: Waitakeres Stream Bash

Christmas Eve 2010. I signed up to a stream bash led by Tom Goodman, who was keen to make room for extra desserts the following day. I had pictured an easy walk down a stream, maybe ankle to calf deep water, a pleasant day’s walk in the bush…

Could not have been MORE the opposite! Before we knew it, the only trail was an airborne one, Tom was flying off the 6 metre ledge into the waterfall pool, he bounced off the bottom, collected his pack and calmly swam out for the next one… It was non-stop adrenaline for a full two hours. I found out later that this, the Piha Gorge Stream Bash, was the easy one: Cowan-Pararaha was where it was at.

Challenge accepted!

Jess turned up ready for a 2 hour run. Next minute…

Saturday 17th September. A planned trip to the Kaimanawas was cancelled at last minute, so we needed to act fast if we were going to keep the weekend alive. An un-planned trip to the Cowan-Pararaha stream bash was born. Myself, Ben Duggan, Helen Liley and Jess Shaw were the contenders, but little did they know of what was ahead of them.

Scaling down waterfalls…

Holding on for dear life…

]

Extending parachutes for landing…

Tree, Branch, Pool!

Relentless waterfalls…

Mogambo!

Taking a moment to ponder the situation…

We followed the stream all the way out to the ocean, and now that we’d finally dried off, cue Mother Nature – the wild west coast wouldn’t have been wild enough without some rain!

The Cowan-Pararaha Stream Bash rates in my books as one of the best day trips in the Waitakeres, so get out there and jump off some waterfalls!

PS: Thanks to Stephen Molineux, Ben Duggan, and NZTopoMaps.com for their awesome photos. ENGGEN204 you have taught me something.

The Hillary Trail

Running in the Footsteps of Sir Ed


The Hillary Trail is a 75km route through the Waitakere Ranges, beginning at Muriwai Beach in the north to Arataki Visitor Centre in the south. The trail opened in January 2010 to honour our national kiwi hero, Sir Edmund Hillary. The trail has been special for me since, I ran the Arataki-Piha half on January 8th with a group to arrive at the opening ceremony held on the 2nd year anniversary of his passing to mountaineering glory. A year later, I ran with seven others the full trail for the first time in 14 hours. The trail is just too good to make it an annual bash – a further six months down the track I decided to team up with Kristian Day of Napier to take on the trail again for real.

Peter Hillary, Timothy Burrell, Me, Sarah Hillary – Jan 2010

But we didn’t want to make it too easy.

North – South: evil hills saved for the finish.

Unsupported: no cars following us with watermelons, we’d have to carry our own soggy crumpets.

Winter: mud. Enough said.

With no fanfare to blast us on our way, we climbed from Muriwai Beach through backstreets to the beginning of the Te Henga trail – a jewel of Auckland’s west coast. Myself and Kristian were joined by Gene Beveridge and Matt Ogden for this first 10km stretch, they were keen for an early morning bash. At least after some thorough persuasion. They set us off at a solid pace that we dreamed was sustainable for the whole run, but when they left us at Bethells Beach we slipped into our own rhythm. Initial nerves shaken off, and Ruahines damage report coming up clean, we moved through the iconic sand dunes and around Lake Wainamu smoothly.

Te Henga trail

Our first major climb up the Houghton track broke a decent sweat, now 8am I topped up my breakfast of oats with some syrup-marinated crumpets while slipping up the gulley. We almost had a close encounter with the infamous Houghton Boar – rollicking, crunching and snarling in the mud, hidden from sight – we didn’t stick around! I collected a tag at Wainamu junction, one of last remaining from the Bethells 12-Hour Rogaine held in July, good to see the event organisers are cleaning up after the festivities.

Piha Appears!

Kuataika was a fun downhill blitz en route to Anawhata farm and once a large group of Japanese hikers filed passed us on White track, Lion Rock burst into view – Piha in only 3 hours 40 mins! We were stoked at the split. Striding along Piha Beach felt great, too great, we pushed the pace to Glen Esk to enjoy our 8 minute lunch break, lying on the grass, in the sun… Bliss.



Kristian feeling spritual at Kitekite

And off again – a swim at KiteKite falls was tempting, very tempting, but if we were to beat Nick Harris’ 11 hour record, some sacrifices had to be made! We crested to Piha Rd for the road bash towards Karekare, but not before making a costly mistake following the trail markers… Note to self: always bring map! Kristian was psyched to see the marker after an extra half hour of unnecessary knee-crunching along the road.

http://www.youtube.com/get_player

We’d taken a blow to our morales, it felt like playing catchup now on lost time, so we barely stopped for a photo of the map at Karekare beach before the next climb to Mt Zion. This is listed on PeakBagging.co.nz, coming in at 272m it gave us just enough height to take in the wild coastal strip. Whatipu beach is an enormous land of swamps of sand dunes, with a roaring surf. The winter rains had taken their toll making the cliff tracks to Whatipu were muddy and energy-draining: our blistering pace from the morning was slowing!


Kristian pelted by rain up to Whatipu trig

It was a different experience along the windy ridges of the Omanawanui track today: a ten hour fatigue meant I was stumbling up the hills and my vision was a mad blur on the downhills. I finished my last food supplies at Karamatura forks – dangerous – there were still 3 hours to go. Fortunately, this was no average food – my energy rich Al’s PowerBars gave birth to a second wind that blew through just in time to destroy the 400m descent into Huia, and we enjoyed telling other trampers what we were up to along the way.

The ever sensational Omanawanui Track

Gritting his teeth along Puriri Ridge Track

But at Huia reality dawned (or rather dusked), and the truth came out. We were absolutely smashed and still had 2 hours of muddy climbing to the finish. The transition from walking to running was slower than a freight train pumping its pistons and rolling into a start – it was becoming an increasingly mental challenge just to get going. And worse, our chances of beating Nick Harris’ record were sinking into the creamy Nihotupu mud…



One ofthe many ‘final’ climbs to Arataki

Twilight darkened under the canopy of bush, straining our night-vision until we finally gave in to sense. Every effort was magnified, even getting out the headlamp. Luckily I’d thrown one in at the last minute – we weren’t expecting to go into the night. It was a bonding experience for me and Kristian as together we pushed through extreme fatigue into the never-ending darkness, rain and mud…but eventually we heard a noise, a light – a Ruby Muir! Our faithful support crew had been traipsing around the trails for 3 hours never knowing when we might arrive. Thanks Ruby. Once we hit Slip track it was one final surge for an emotional finish in 11 hours 56 minutes.

Although we didn’t beat Nick’s time, we were still stoked with our effort. We’d completed the 2nd ever unsupported traverse of the four-day trail in half a day, through some tough winter conditions. I love the Hillary Trail, but for now I don’t want to see the trail again for some time!

Smashed, Ravaged, but Finished

Now that the we’ve conquered the Hillary Trail in both directions (North-South is definitely harder by the way), there’s only one thing left to dream of…

Double Hillary…?

The Hillary Trail





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)

Bethells 12-hour Rogaine

7pm, 19th February 2010: I set off in a team from Muriwai Beach one late summer evening, taking part in a very unofficial 12 hour Rogaine which would send us through the night searching for make-shift checkpoints hidden along streams, under viewing platforms, around coastal cliffs… I loved it. This exciting and adventurous idea lay as a seed, dormant in the fertile plains of my mind until [ironically] the winter of this year. Noticing that Auckland was lacking any long distance Rogaine events, I decided to take the initiative and launch my own. A challenge for runners, trampers and orienteers alike; the Bethells 12-Hour Rogaine was born.

The event was advertised through tramping clubs, sports forums and word of mouth, with one team even traveling from Hamilton to take part. While the threatening weather forecast saw many last minute pull-outs, we had almost thirty keen participants lining up at the Surf Club gate rearing to go. This extraordinary challenge was set in the unique surroundings of Te Henga, Bethells Beach – a great location for the event; with access to the extensive Cascades track network, Te Henga trail, rugged beaches, sand dunes, and Lake Wainamu. Thirty controls were spread out across the map, with several interesting route choices to consider. Tide times and darkness hours were also thrown into the churning strategy pot, leaving teams some serious thinking to do in the thirty minutes before midnight.

Walkers would become trampers, trampers would become navigators, and navigators would become endurance athletes, as they were thrown into the dark, and the ugly, for a full twelve hours of glorious adventure. As Charles Dickens famously said, “The men who learn endurance, are they who call the whole world, brother”.

Held in the guts of winter, the wild West Coast lived up to its name. Teams who chose to start along the Te Henga Walkway, a dramatic 9 kilometre section of coastal track, were belted with sou’westerlies in the silhouette-shadow landscape of the early morning. Andrew Turnbull from team “The Camel & the Straw” said, “It was a really awesome event, the Te Henga trail in the wind and the rain was epic.”

At each checkpoint, a short clue narrowed down the likely whereabouts of the treasure, in the form of red & white plastic tape. Each location had a unique two-letter code that teams would write down to prove their conquest. Each code was an acronym describing something about the surroundings, e.g. a tape-wrapped rock hidden in a crevasse around the coast of Erangi point that was only accessible at low tide had the code ‘LT’. The further out they ventured from the base, the more points they could earn. If teams managed to trek out as far as Ongaruanuku Hut, they would be stoked to find some red & white tape hanging in the woodshed. One team decided to treat themselves to a power nap at the hut before the homeward journey, via a waterfall traverse at Pig Wallow, some tree climbing on Chateau-Mosquito, a stream bash down the Wainamu, and finishing with a rock climb and some cave exploring on Bethells Beach, before collapsing at the finish. Elated, and alive.

Substantial calories were replaced at the finish with hearty servings of pumpkin soup, warmed to perfection with the trusty club primus. Matt Lillis, notable gourmet outdoor chef de cuisine found the generously frosted chocolate cake to be “succulent and moist”.

Helen Liley and myself spent two days tramping through the Waitakeres setting up the course the week prior, finding interesting locations and writing clues on the go. We slept at O’nuku Hut and in a spectacular bivvy against the cliffs of Bethells Beach the following night. Luckily it wasn’t tested for water-proofness.

The Bethells 12-Hour Rogaine was a huge success in its first running; all the teams seemed to arrive back at base looking shattered, but exhilarated by the experience of going hard all through the night, and walking into the new day. 


The overall winner was elite women’s adventure racing team, Team Macpac Girls on Top, who managed to cover a 53km loop (with an impressive 2187m vertical gain) around all three sections of bush, picking up all but two checkpoints!

Following this success, we plan to organise more of these longer Rogaines in the future, and also hope that this will inspire others to organise similar events. We have our sights set on running a Hunua 12-Hour Rogaine for November 2011, and a Karekare 12-Hour Rogaine for February 2012. Planning will start soon, so watch this space for more details to come!

Final Results (Maximum score 1840)

1.  Macpac Girls On Top – 1600
	a.  Anne Lowerson, Debbie Chambers, Cath Heppelthwaite
2.  Dash Hounds – 1150
	a.  Mike Judd, Rupert Dash, Steve Pyatt
3. : Hamilton Devilled Eggs – 930
	a.  Elliot O’Brien, Isaac Dempsey, Nick Vignati, Craig Smith
4.  Team Type 1 – 820
	a.  Claire Dobson, Alan Dobson
5.  Tim & Tony – 760
	a.  Timothy Burrell, Tony Hastie
6.  Cool Katz – 550
	a.  Hannah Lockie, Tane Moore, Matt Martin
7.  Matt’s Crew – 380
	a.  Matt Lillis, Laurien Heijs, Georgia Yarrow, Rosanna Walton
8.  Peter & David – Disq
	a.  Peter Guillburt, David Keall
9.  Camel & the Straw – Disq
	a.  Andrew Turnbull, Hannah Lowe
10.  Otago University Tramping Club – Disq
	a.  Edward Colenbrander, James West, Ian Grimson, Malcolm Durling