One More River to Cross: Anniversary Weekend

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"ONE MORE RIVER TO CROSS" Anniversary week end Jan.20/23 After much indecision following the last moment truck cancellation, "Spud" and I decided to set off after a mighty red line down the Otaki River. Our trip began in rather a hair-raising manner with a taxi ride in to the road end at Ohau, but altbough the driver appeared to be after an all-time speed record to the bridge he was never-the-less extremely decent and took us much further on than is usual, It took only a short time to be on our way and we were at the bush edge without using torches. Do not think that by this though that it was not dark - it was in fact pitch black but because certain menbers oracertain other club had not used torches before, then, neither could we. "It just wasn't done", said "Spud" The trip along the track was uneventful until we reached the edge. At this stage you walk a. long a large log and when we came to it I was told by Spud that we dropped down to the river"HERE. = By"HERE" I took it that he meant "HERE" and stepped off the side. It was quite a long way down that bank and "Spud" thous ht I was rather simple - heeven said so! However, I managed to scramble back onto the track and we were at Ohau Hut in a short while. Not ten minutes after our arrival a familiar voice was heard and who should it be but Peter Javis - "Happy Days". After much fond greeting he decided to come a long with us the following morning and with that mighty decision made we all settled down for the night. However, our sleep was short-lived. Two young "cow-boys", who had come in after Peter, decided at 3.30 a.m. to go off for a shot. Wood was chopped in the hut and I have never seen such an exhibition of inconsiderate hehaviour. The self control demonstrated by we three was just marvellous until they left at five. we then got up ourselves and much to Spuds" heartfelt disgust discovered that his loaf of bread had also walked. Needless to say, gentle words were a thing of the past! The stroll up to South Ohau was most enjoyable and would make a very pleasant and easy summer trip for the club. At the hut Peter and I had to wait for "Spud" who had gone off for a shot so we had a welcome cup of coffee before beginning the climb up Yeates 600. Climbing up a wall has nothing on that trackbut fortunately it isn't very long. As we reached the top the mist, which had been coming down, lifted and a grand view of the Otaki Valley and the tops between Crawford and Te watawai appeared. "Spud" and Peter scaled up a tree and decided I simply must see everything for myself so, after much persuasion and a great deal of protesting on my part, I followed suit. It was well worth it. Butcher's Saddle was directly beneath us and although bush lawyer and a non-existent track led us to a lot of hard words we were soon there and on our way down to the Otaki via the Waiopehu Stream, The river was a welcone sight as the heat had been simply terrific and we set off down stream with the feeling that every few yards meant another squiggle of red line. The river bed was very open and the scenery most pleasant. It was very long and flat though and the day wore on seemingly never ending. At about 5 p.m. we reached a large slip which was marked on the map and we thought "Ah - not much further."

About two hours later we had "had" the survey departnent in a big way. There were streams where there should not have been, no slips where they had been marked and we seemed to be getting absolutely nowhere. At this stage "Spud" shot a deer ( he is a sadistic little monster, our "Spud", you shoula have seen what he did to it) and by the tine we were moving egain the sun had gone down. By 8 o'clock, after 13 hours travel, it was becoming quite dark. We were all very wet, thanks to a couple of big pools and I for one was just about sleep walking. The fact that "Spud" kept turhing around and laughing at my peculiar walk wasn't helping matters either. In no uncertain terms he was told that he'd be looking silly too, if he had nails right through his boots - the poor old things had done their last trip and half the soles are now laid to rest in the Otaki River. At last in desperation, "Spud" said he would go around the next corner and if the Waitewaewae Forks were in sight we would carry on, if not we could camp where we were. I immediately folded up on my pack and proceeded to vait. In about 5 minutes "Spud" returned with good news, so torches were taken out and the last lap begun. Waitewaewae, hateful place though it is, was the most vonderful sight I had seen since I last struggled in to that very hut. There were three very pleasant chaps in occupat tion and cups of tea were the order of the day. After this ny mind is a blank - "Spud" woke me at midnight to give me tea. I did not want it but it was what you might call "thrust. upon me". We hardly slept at all that night. The notorious Maitewaewae nosquitos were at work andalt was too hot to stay covered up we spent most of the night itching. At one stage Pete whispered to me "For heaven's sake stop scratching" and almost as an echo we heard "Spud" scratching frantically in his sleep. At 5 o'clock I could stand it no longer and moved outside where I slept soundly until 8.30 a.m. "Hori" and Dudley were meant to be arriving about 'noon from their midale crossing and the five of us had planned to swim down the Gorge to the Forks, As it takes approximately eight hours we intended going four hours to Penn Crock that afternoon and camping there on Sunday night. By mid-day they had not arrived but we waited patier tly - we had to a because, due to a misunderstanding, "Hori" had the purp for my tyre tube. By one o'clock Peter had packed all his géar to make it waterproof. By two o'clock they vould be there any moment. By three they were darned nuisances. By four they were a couple of lazy so-and-so's. By five we were getting worried. It was now too late to go down the Gorge so another night of mosquitos at taitevaewae seemed to be the only answer! The two boys were just leaving for a shot when drifting across the valley from the Crawford Track came the unofficial, unmistakable, unprintable Club call!

At long last "Hori" and Dudley appeared and not before time either!! However, the sight of Dudley staggering across the river bed nade us hold fire before beginning the abuse. It seems that Pudley had some sort of bug ("the love bug will get you if you don't watch out) and had been feeling ill all the week end. I must say he looked it - it was a wonder really that they made it at all, That night the hut was full and I think that was why the mossies were not so bad - they must have had more to choose from. During the night too the rain started and it was still raining hard when we eventually stirred in the, morning. As usual we 5 T. and M's. were the last away and we sack-bashed until about 10, having quite an hilarious tine. Eventually we decided to arise andafter arguing for about an hour with Dudley about who was to get breakfast we decided to draw cards and guess who lost?? Yes, Dudley! DE After much messing around, Dudley and I left ahead of the others but at the bottom of the track became a little confused and as it was getting late by the time we sorted ourselves out, decided the other three must have passed us. So, off we set, almost running and reached the forks in 32 hours, only to find that our heroes were behind after all. The river was up quite high but there was no sign of anyone so over we went. Just as we were almost across I slipped, lost my footing and tooka graceful little dive around past Dudley. And here it was that a unique form of river rescue was devised by Dudley. If you ask him, perhaps he will.let you know all the ins and outs - I can assure you it was MOST effective. We reached the ford at about four and the others joined us about three quarters of an hour later - merely an hour late - as the taxi was meant to be ordered for four. However, it all worked out in the end and we continued our "extra curly" and most enjoyable red line to the Otaki"pub"where it wound to an abrupt end! MARY "And we looked to the hills where the tall timber lifts Through the white of the mists and the rain cloud rifts And we saw the heights whence the rivers are fed The wild rata a-bloom like a flame of red. There is joy on the slopes of the mountains And love where the long rivers flow, Each puring their water like fountains To the vales from the uplands of snow..." -