Tararua Heatwave

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"TARARUA HEATWAVE" Christmas, 1962 It must be rare indeed for experienced tinued along Dundas Ridge to a point trampers to "anti-bludge", to say "have above Dundas Ridge Hut, where we a biscuit?" in a menacing tone that sug- slept out by a small tarn. Descending gests it will be the worse for you if East Peak we had a shot at a hind, but I you don't! The weight of our packs will not trouble sensitive readers with might account for this, but how to ac- gory details of its entrails hanging out, count for the readiness of members to tair turns you up! carry party gear? "It is not fair," they That evening we played cards by would complain, "You have been carry- candlelight. This was hilarious, with ing that rifle all morning. It's my some off-beat playing. Norman would turn!" Or, "You have all the party not believe a Jack of Clubs was a Spade, gear, let me take the water bottle."! and kept his Joker to the end, Paul bid Odder and odder, we were purged nine hearts, and had none in his hand, from the Tararua tops not by the usual Dave complained of his "heart trouble", mirk and derision, but by the scorching and "what do you think of the club?" heat, leaving the mid-day summits to The morning of New Year's Eve we Mr. Coward's mythical mad dogs (the carried on over Arete via Pukemoremore Englishmen had swooned). Now we where brief mist and sunshine produced have a clue, they were all touched by the the rare Glockenspell spectre und sun. Beware!-it could happen to you. Henkelmonster. Then along Carkeek The starters were Paul Green on a Ridge to the new hut and on to Park 1961, 500cc. mountain mule, Henk Forks. (The Yorkshiremen "crushed" Bertholet on a 1954, 500 cc. mule with Lancaster and raised the standard of the Thor Atlas booster, Norm. Clarkson on white rose.) We reached the Waiohine, a 1961, 650 cC. mule, and Dave Capper holy river, Ganges of the Tararuas, on a 1947, 350cc. super-charged Bantam Mecca of trampers, excellent with in- Bergen. stant coffee. We bottled some of the We followed Dave's "short cut" to the Park Forks water, being careful to Mangahao, up the Wai Iti Stream, to a stream preserve and the beech delicate aroma of mountain steep narrow ridge, with a well-marked search of a sucker forest, who and set off in track, starting at a main fork high up Plodded on Dorset might buy it. the stream, and led through lawyer and ting (and up Ridge, pot-shotwindfalls to the scrubby summit of the whilst Dave's missing), the occasional stag, Main Ridge and Tawirikohukohu. After pack wailed that it wanted lunch we continued to a prominent to be "Bobby's Girl". spur, with a good track that soon Arriving at the hut, we complemented petered out and left us to struggle with ourselves on this far carrying out a plan dense bush and ill-defined spurs. Dave which for sheer purposeless stupidity apologised for his "short cut", but al- Nick Jennings and his ambitious section ready showing. signs of solarphobia, we could not improve upon. commended his wise choice, and ob- Our last feed for 1962 was a special served philosophically that it hadn't meal of venison stew, peas, taken any longer than the normal route. potatoes, lamb tongues, Christmas beans, pud- Arriving at Harris Creek Hut we met ding, custard and kiwi plonk. Our suntwo novice stalkers from Auckland. addled brains, addled by one rum- We told them how heavy our packs soaked helping of Christmas pud over were, how far we had come and in- the eight, left us in no mood to see the tended to go, and what the fit jokers New Year in. down south would be doing. In fact, if Next merning was hotter and calmer bull was tarmac, they would have had than ever. Norman muttering about his a new motorway to Auckland. As it liver. and Dave's lovesick still was, when we had finished we were wanting to bé "Bobby's Gucf, we terribly impressed with what we had trudged up Girdlestone. said. Balaclavas and ski hats were worn as Next morning we battled our way up protection against the sun. Adkin and to the summit of Ngapuketurua and con- the Three Kings were "crushed", Paul was "suffering", so the miserable Norm. and Dave's waterproof watch scuttled Clarkson forgot about his liver. The itself. "Waterproof, shockproof!" restless Henk Bertholet, unable to relax, admonished Dave, throwing it to the drove us on, we wait for winter when ground. "There's nothing wrong with he is blue with cold and teeth chattering, my liver!" Shortly afterwards the infor our revenge. We were scorched valids (blistered feet, swollen ankles and from the tops, first on to Pinnacle Ridge, crook knees), reached Donnelly's Flat. then into the Atiwhakatu Stream. The Dave was embarrassed by his shorts, and summit mists were like a Turkish bath, the remainder were embarrassed by losand the stream was actually warm. ing the track. Arriving at Bannister Hut Dave's pack, frustrated in love, now Dave opened his pack and produced a spoke the cryptic language of maiden transistor portable. So there is nothovers, silly mid-on and leg byes. ing quéer about his pack after all! The pleasant flats led to a petite -PAUL, DAVE, HENK and gorgette, where Henk's rifle took a swim NORMAN.