Vinegary Englishmen v. Chilly Scot (Easter Southern Crossing)

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VINEGARY ENGLISHMEN V. CHILLY SCOT. EASTER. It was decided among the four of us, Margaret, Denis, Bill Smith and myself, that fur Easter we should do a Southern Crossing. Nothing remarkable in this statement perhaps, though none of us had done the trip before. Thursday morning I rang Phil up, telling him to be prepared for a search party. He informed me of the parts where it is usual to get lost, but nevertheless hoped we'd enjoy the trip. Friday morning we set off about ten, starting to hitch from the gorge. We paired off to make our chances better. The chances soun came. A car pulled up for Margaret and I, there being one also for Denis and Bill behind, although it appeared that the chap pulled up unly to avoid a cat. This was goud enough for Bill, who had the dour open and a foot inside, with Denis A close second, before the chap cuuld luok round. We met at Otaki, dropped a few burrs, and chartered a taxi in towards the Forks. I imagined we were being taken the whole way for ten bob apiece, a happy thought at the time, until he pulled up three miles from the Cottage and proceeded to roll a smoke. A few hot words sprang from my lips to the effect that we had been done, but we still had to walk the rest of the way. We started out for Field's from the Cottage about two p.m. and for the first hour we sweated the beer out. After the usual drawn-out uphill tramp we arrived at Field's about dusk. We gormandised and slept, each out-doing each other at staying in the sack. Before - "The hunter of the East had caught the tin roof in a noose of light" 1 there was from within the noise of breakfast being prepared. Not ours though. We were unly annoyed at the nuise the other folk were making. By the time we crawled out, the other oocupants had left the hut. Margaret made a mess of the porridge, with too much salt. We felt a bit windy abuut seying anything to her, at least not in a strong sense. After packing and a few frivolous photos taken, away we went, quite late in the murning. The weather looked promising and had a goud effect on morale, everyone happy, taking photus of the view, with the conventiunal - you, me, and Denis tuuch - in the furegruund. I took great care to check my compass with map and a bearing on Otaki - or was it Levin ? I need not have buthered for it was rarely used further up, the weather being too damn cold and wet to muck around with such things. By stories of what was in store for us, told by people on the way down again, the elements were having a D Day. Eventually we arrived cold and wet at Kime, and after a brew of cocoa and a smoke, decided to push on again. It was either that or gu back tu the Cuttage and have a tedious road walk out to Otaki. We had sume difficulty in finding the right direction from Kime, but after circling the Hut a few times, and getting put right by a chap at the window who must have thuught we were half-wits - ( Approx. air speed? I Ed. ) we disappeared into the mist. Things began to get pretty grim, and none of us did much talking and of course I did not brighten matters when I loudly pruclaimed that we were on the top of Hector, when in actual fact we were on Field Peak. It happened a few more times that afternuon, and I fancy that everyone was getting a little fed up with me running ahead of the map. We passed a religious slogan painted on the rock by some holy Joe. None of us were impressed. On tup of Hectur Margaret wanted her photo taken. She did not get it of course. Time dragged on. Peak after peak rose up to meet us out of the wind and rain, Beehives, and False Spurs - we know the Dress Circle. Denis remarked that he wuuld rather be duwn in the Stalls at that mument. We were getting pretty culd. Bill Smith said something to Margaret abuut getting a muve on, or he would not be able to muve at all. The reply came swift, but we could nut understand the language. The light was beginning to fail when we reached the bush line above Alpha, and the nuise of Sumeone chopping wuud sounded sweet music in our ears. Alpha was very cumfortable that night. One thing we had learnt - that parkas are not much goud.... Sunday morning - not too early - we were on the last stretch and luoking for the famous Block XV1. We had not realised that it was so far away, and the afternoon was drawing on before we came near to finding it. We lost the track in one place, and I fumed at Bill Smith for laughing at some slogan on a track sign instead of helping to find it again. We did though, and proceeded to lose altitude fast. Margaret did the splits in one muddy spot - a feat she confessed she could not do before. On reaching the river track 9 we all fell out of grace in Margaret's eyes. It was over some trivial matter. I think one of us pushed her at the wrong moment or said something nasty.... It was dusk; so torches were brought out, and three tight-lipper vinegary Englishmen, and a chilly Scot, picked their way along to Tauwharenikau Hut. Monday was spent leisurely. We started back about two in the afternoon for Kaitoke. Bill Jones.