Lake Rotoiti. Christmas, 1948

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LAKE ROTOITI. Christmas, 1948. Midnight, Christmas Eve 1948, saw us under way at long last. At least the "Tamahine" got under way while we (the whole 28 of us) did our best to fight for position among hundreds of other bods cramming every available piece of deck space. Our invaluable experience in trucks came to the fore though and it wasn't long before everyone was more or less comfortable, the use of sleeping bags and tents helping to keep out a gale force wind. So much so that we felt very real regret when we were rudely awakened about 3a.m. to find ourselves in Picton and told we had to get out into a cold dark morning. With all the gear on the wharf it was a case of what next? Our bus was not due until 7a.m. so that meant about 32 hours to fill in, in Picton. The children's play area with its swings, see-saws and slides provided quite a variety of amusement while I can recommend an interesting stroll through the deserted streets of Picton to anyone suffering from insomnia (provided they weren't like us without anywhere to sleep). However, time eventually ticked around and with it came the dawn, a trifle misty but nevertheless welcome, our bus, a real luxury job complete with radio, and last but definitely not least (except maybe in quantity) breakfast. With such a propitious start to the day,:it was very, very nice to sink back into our cushioned bus seats and watch the countryside slip by - those of us who could stay awake that is. As we got further inland the mists which had shrouded everything at Picton gradually broke and by the time we passed through Blenheim the sun was doing its best to turn the bus into an oven. The trip up the Wairau valley is of rugged interest; the wide rocky river bed; the slip gashed hills and the rocky peaks rising from the valley or pushing up their jagged tops in the distance. Those who knew the area slightly did their best to impart their superior knowledge to others less fortunate. I was reminded of that saying "A little knowledge is a dangerous thing." but took it all in. After about 3 hours of glorious inactivity in the bus we were put down at the Lake Rotoiti Motor Camp, our home (for "our" party at least) for the next ten days. It hadn't changed at all since our last visit a few years ago. Mt. Robert still loomed large and massive over the lake, the zig-zag track up its side looking so insignificant (and steep) while on the other side the St. Arnaud group with its bush-skirt sides looked even more impressive. The lake a well it looked just as inviting, its waters sparkling blue in the sun - but still oh so cold! The camp itself was fairly full but we soon found room, appropriating one of the large sheds for cooking and eating purposes. Den's party of 8 went on by bus to Rotoroa that morning while Laurie's party of 6 also left later in the afternoon heading up the Travers Valley. These defections together with two additions to "our" party in the form of Trev and Pete who had come through from Nelson left us finally with 16.

The following 6 days were gloriously fine with temperatures reaching the 100 degrees mark but on the whole were uneventful, except perhaps, for Bev's penchant for collecting bugs and things and then not being satisfied with keeping them to herself. As should be the case with a Base Camp party, everyone just did what they liked, mainly swimming and sunbathing, with an occasional day trip up the St. Arnaud range or round the lake. In other words a real holiday. New Years Eve provided some variation when the whole crowd of us walked five miles to Top House (in the rain incidentally) to spend a great evening. We arrived back at camp at 3a.m. - 15 of us in an old touring car. What an ordeal! New Year's Day, or what was left of it by the time we had recovered enough to take any notice of it, was fine but coldo A large crowd gathered at the lake during the day to watch the speed boats do their stuff at the annual regatta and were further entertained late in the afternoon by the sight of a bunch of ruffianly looking types appearing from the hills. Closer inspection showed it was Laurie's party definitely in need of repairs and renovations after 7 days wandering among the local hills and valleys. Unfortunately our spell of fine weather had come to an end and our final three days were wet. The day after New Year's Day however, we jacked up a bus trip for the day, through to the Owen River Hotel, Lake Rotoroa, the Spenser and Mangled Valleys and Murchison. In these areas we were shown plenty of evidence of the damage done in the 1929 Murchison earthquake and were mighty glad we weren't around at the time. Like all things, our holiday had to come to an end some time and after what seemed a lightning ten days we found ourselves aboard the bus again heading for Picton and home. Although it was pouring at Picton when we left we soon picked up the fine North Island weather and by the time we hit Wellington it was b.autifully fine. The trip TS quite bumpy but apart from some slight indisposition everyone survived. I would like to thank all those who helped make the trip such a grand success. I know I enjoyed myself and am sure everyone else could not but have helped do the same. Members of the party weres- Muriel Sinclair, Eileen Sinclair, Fay Hedgman, Allan Burns, Jack Liversage, Kay Bignell, Ivy Legg, Dawn Holloway, Beverley Holloway, Max Martin, Stan Kinder, Graham Jacobs, Mike Reddington, Trevor Walsh, Poter Johnson and Margaret Soulsby. M. S. L. N.