Ruahine Return - Labour Weekend 1949

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THE QUALITY OF PURITY IS NOT STRAINED. Ruahine Return - Labour Weekend 1949. Having done a Ruahine Crossing with sundry other bods on Anzac Weekend and graunched up the creeks, shivered on the tops and slid in the mud down from Purity Hut, in company with said other bods I firmly averred that I had enjoyed my first and last trip to the Ruahines. Be that as it may when the Trip Schedule Committee looked round for a suck - er leader for a Ruahine Trip on Labour Weekend I had to go and stick my neck out. I should know better by now. We were due to leave the Station at and finally got away nearer 8 o'clock in company with 5 6130 ing types bound for Ruapehuo Being So late the loss of another half hour near Pukerua Bay with a Traffic Officer and a defective headlight was a mere detail, no one minded at all. After eats at Levin which looked like a trampers convention we detoured through Palmerston North to pick up Ted Esler and two other Masterton Y.M.C.A. bods bound for National Park. From Mangaweka on I rode in the cab to"show the way." I had boen over the road once before in the back of a truck, taken no notice of the road - and - it was now of course pitch dark. Boy, was ia help. However, I had been told that if we came to a swing bridge we had come too far and we duly arrived at the swing bridge but with perfect ease as a good leader does I found two swing bridges close together I - I twice too far? I de-bussed the team I - the trip was Ruahines and believe me we were in the Ruahines - er, somewhere. Soon most of the vistims were in their bags under some willow trees while Tom was doing wonders with a fire, a billy and a slice of river - - a BREW, but then, I never drink tea at 3.30a.m. Cooks were up at 7 and while they did whatever is necessary to put lumps in porridge Butch end I pored over maps and a compass - well, you know what happens when she gets a map and compass. Finally we decided to head up the right branch of the forks, all except Terry and Joan who stayed put = - to shoot rabbits. The scenery up the stream was quite inte resting with high papa cliffs and an easy shingle bed. We put up numerous wild duck and several wekas. After about an hour and a half we left the stream and cut over a low saddle to the right and there - behold - the woolshed, our original destination. Butch and I slyly uncrossed our fingers and mopped our brows. Lunch in a creek bed and up the ridge to the bush line - this makes the beginning of the Fields Track look sick and an hour and a half to Purity. Visibility on arrival was nil and the weather unsettled so we pitched the two tents while the girls stewed the stew I water being severely rationed. While waiting for tea Butch sat on one of the bunks - - well, they'11 stand a certain amount. Sunday duly arrived after a spot of rain and visibility was mist with outlook nil but later on in ones - and twos and So on we headed up to the tops and were rewarded with a really super view of Ruapehu and Ngaruahoe. After finding a tiny tarn and ladling out a billy of nice muddy water someone suggested we head round to New Hikurengi where there was patchy snow, K I blame Butch but everyone else blames me) So poor old Regardless stopped a decent one for size and off we went. We nearly made the top of Iron Peg when the mist shut down dgain and I managed to talk the others into heading back to the hut. (Actually I just mentioned it and then had to run like mad to keep up.) We made a brew of Purity first grade water after digging for an hour or so 600 feet off the ridge to get a half billy of water - - when we put the tea in we couldn't tell the difference but a brew is still a brew. Just in time for tea three shooters, Phil, George and John arrived and joined us for a platefui and then after that we had the usual swapping of tales. A word here to other leaders - don't ever let Denis A. go out for water in the dark. It's really demoralising to give a yell and hear a plaintive voice from miles (? Mighty good hearing you got there Phil - Ed.) down the valley wailing "Where are you? I've lost the track." Monday in the usual Labour Day tradition was WET and about 10.15 we started to christie down from Purity in first grade Ruahine mud (they believe me now) with a promise from John who had left earlier that he would pick us up at the woolshed. Not only did he do this but he took us to his home and turned on Beer, coffee and eats and a gorgeous fire. Not only did he do this but he ran me a mile or so up the road to pick up Joan and Terry and when we returned talked us out of walking out to meet the truck, turning on more sustenance. cannot express our gratitude. Incidentally Joan end couldn't understand the Macesyo shortage of water that we'd had - they had had a more than plentiful supply. - Eventually just before 6p.m. the truck arrived in time to see a display of rabbit shooting. (Terry and I are still blushing = the rabbit still sneering) and so to Wellington at 11.45. No write-up can do credit to the fun we had, the jokes about the unstrained quality of Purity water and the kindness of John Bonner and the theme song of the trip "I know where I'm going" means this - - we're going back again. The victims of this Ruahine Return were Phil Phillips (Leader), Butch Marshall (Who thinks it a small world), Denis A7lison (Wat-er you doing tonight?), Tom Lawton, Frank McGowan, erry (Crack-shot) Moore, Joan Ritchie, Ivy Legg, Ellen siattery, Betty Brewster and Peter Davidson from England. Phil Phillips.