Letter to the Editor - Southern Crossing (No Boots At All)

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No Boots At All, Mudandslush, Tararua Ranges. The Editor, "Tramping & Mountaineering". Dear Terry, I have hed a lot of abuse from various members of your Club and after the last Southern Crossing I did with you I swore t hat I would never do it againo Next time I said to myself "They can ruddy well do without me." Well, despite this decision, I have just finished Southern Crossing and I thought I would just drop you a line another to let you know that I have changed my mind about the trip after all: It a 11 began on Friday, December 10tho at 9.30p.m. when Thelma Dodge, Betty Brewster, Ivy Legg, Cyril Jacquard (Leader), Barrie O'Donnell, Denis Allison, Ian Hindmarsh, Frank McGowan and Doug ? 9 and the Neill-Winchcombe party were dumped off on the Otaki Gorge Road still 3 - 4 miles from the Cottage. They soon began pressing on and in the circumstances I couldn't very well let them down could I? Well, we got to the Cottage about 10.45 pip emma and after a breather pressed on again to Field Hut. I don't know where Leigh Hart's ghost was and just because I wanted to meet him he didn't turn up. Any time after a quarter to one bodies began erriving at Field Hut in "ones and twos and ones" and after a brew all was quiet. I have heard stories of trampers who carry everthing but the Kitchen Sink (I carry that. - Ed.) in their packs and on the other hand I have heard stories about this dreadful Southern Crossing and how necessary it is to cut down weight even to the extent of cutting the handle off your toothbrush. (best to leave the toothbrush at home. = Ed.) Well be that as it may, the early morning peace (yes and my nerves too) in Field Hut was absolutely shattered by an alarm clock. This was followed by boots being thrown about, plates clattering, a fire being lit, people washing, people breakfasting, people getting packed for the trail. One bloke wa.s a bit careful over the wa.shing - he only washed enough to be able to see where he was going: Barrie and Denis refused to move from their sacks until it was obvious they weren't going to get porridge in bed anyway so there was nothing else for them to do but to get upo Once the difficulty of getting under way had been overcome it was an absolutely perfect day and from West Peak it was possible to see Ruapehu, Egmont and "Tappy" all at once. Who said tramping was a mug's game when a view like that is possible? What did it matter that it was 9 long climb up to there and a lot more climbing still to be done? It was well worth every bit of energy expended. It was rather hot though and up et Kime the N-W party had finished a second breakfast and were just waiting for us to appear on the scene to see what food we could produce. However, we knew those N-W types and it was not until after they had gone that we deemed it safe to open up our packs and enjoy a snack while relaxing in the hot sun. Who said there were icebergs in the tea up at Kime? It's a lie. It's a lie. It's a lie! Well after an interval we decided it was time to press on again and after dropping down onto the saddle we set out to climb Hector. About two thirds of the way up Denis let out a yell and swore loudly when he remembered he had left his watch by the tarn at Kime. Grabbing a couple of bits of barley sugar he dropped his pack and set off at the double. The rest' of the party had a nice long rest and when he appeared in sight again they all set off. He caught up with the party about ten past twelve and with his tongue hanging out muttered something about "Don't ever ask me to enter for the Marathon." We had lunch by a tarn on the Dress Circle and then kept pressing on. As the afternoon wore on it seemed to get hotter and hotter and the last climb on to Alpha was a bit of a struggle. The old tongues were hanging out a bit but by about 4p.m. we got down to Alpha Hut. Now there's a song about this place and like the song about Kime it's all wrong. We arrived at Alpha and found a tank full of cool, clear water and plenty of dry firewood. First things first and on went a brew whilst everyone washed off the sweat of the day's trip. Contrary to the usual procedure there was no trouble in lighting the fire and while the stew was cooking Denis took a photo just to prove it. He's a bit of a menace with his camera that bloke isn't he?, but in the circumstances you couldn't very well blame any of the photographers for getting keen on this trip. By this time I had got quite keen myself and after the stew and a brew we all turned in a at which stage I am very keen on any trip. There was no alarm clock to shatter the early morning silence at Alpha but at a quarter past five Denis got out and got the fire going and the billy on and by half past seven we were all under wayo As usual Thelme, Ivy and Betty were on the track first and they pushed on leaving the mere males to catch up later. After the open tops the descent into bush again was really beautiful and even Hells Gates were wide openo We rested at the top of BlockXV1 where Ian produced a very welcome orange and before beginning the descent of this infamous track it was simply magnificent to stand on the edge and feel the cool draft of air coming up to meet us. In thse days of soap advertising the term "fragrance of the bush" doesn't mean a thing but this was the real McCoy. From here on it was a case of onward and downward until we finally reached Smiths Creek where we immedietely dropped packs and went swimming, to soon be joined by the N-W Party. After the swim it was time to eat and our portable recording outfit got this sound picture of lunch at Smiths Creeks- "How's the bread situation?" "Lend me your mug, I left mine at Cone," "If I could borrow my knife and your honey I could have some bread and honey." "Would you like some cheese to go under your jam?" "I think we'll do the Southern next time, they seem to have more food than we do." "These two eggs will give me a me.jor share in the pancake mixture." "Send me some butter by air mail." After lunch and another swim for the keen types it. was simply a case of the old familiar ground out over the Puffer to meet the truck at 5,30. The last straw which broke the camel's back was the stop at Maori Bank only to find that they had sold out of ice cream. What a blow: Well, all for now - it wasn't a bad weekend, but I must warn you that you won't find me keen to do a Southern Crossing again unless conditions are at least as good as they were that weekend. Well I simply must press on now - I'm going to be very busy over Christmas and I have to pack the old alarm clock again! Your old pal, Regardless. (Sgd.) Edo Note:= He's no pal of mine.