The Fabulous Southern Crossing

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THE FABULOUS SOUTHERN Approximately 17 members were Valley's could make a valiant attempt. privileged to undertake a winter Southern Little did we know. Finally it was de- Crossing in fabulous conditions of sun- cided that the main group should wait shine and snow that will be long remem- until 1400, and if the Hutt Valley's had bered. Approximately 17, because the not been seen on the top, of Hector, we number varied from time to time in some could be sure they would not cross tomysterious way. A decrease could be day. Meanwhile our gallant chief guide accounted for as members collapsed, or led a band of volunteers, press-ganged disappeared into snowdrifts, but how to into breaking the trail to Alpha Hut. account for an increase? Can it be some Mac Riding, our trip leader, accompanied new wonder drug responsible for the two members who were not quite to birth of 11-stone babies with pack and a crossing in the prevailing quicditionts boots? and whom wisely, but unfortunately, had An ordinary southern begins at Otaki. to retire to the Tauherenikau. but because the Hutt Valley's intended The views around Hell's Gate were a doing a southern this weekend, we photographer's paradise, the kind that started from Kaitoke. Friday night we make strong men babble of green fields. stayed at Allaway Dickson's Hut, where Snow-covered hills framed by the bush. we met Brian Fugle who had gone in Glistening snow and bright-coloured early to make a fire for our brew. A parkas. Snow piled unbelievably high on tin star for Brian! At some unearthly tree branches, so that they reminded us hour, when even the sun was still snugly of Japanese art. tucked in bed, insomniacs pumped Little Jim had the laugh on us, tripprimuses and the chomp, chomp of fifty ping the light fantastic over the snow, million starving paraphantas turned while we blundered thru' like Sherman loose in a cabbage field, turned out to tanks. Near the hut the snow was parbe only trampers eating breakfast. How ticularly soft and deep. Climbing out can a man sleep with that din. of a snow drift, I fell into another The grey fingers of dawn illuminated and yet another. "Ah, Clarkson, finished a scene of us, leaving the hut in the the trip. on your hands and knees, eh?" direction of up. Nearing the top we quoth Jim. When the main party arrived found generous quantities of soft, wet we were complemented by their spokessnow to flounder around in. At the top man in these words, "I think you're wonwe made a stop for the tail to catch up, derful, now shut up!" really an excuse for us-ahem!-fit types Brian Hunt deserves a tin star first to have a rest and a snack. Everyone class, nay, a brass badge with bar, for his wanted to get rid of as many biscuits heroic and noble effort in lighting a fire and scroggin as possible early in the of huge dimensions with which to dry trip, sO we ate well. out our wet clothes. Honourable men- Setting off again there was enthusiasm tion in dispatches for Peter Daniel, for the prestige job of breaking trail maitre de hut, chef de grub, for his through fresh, deep snow. Those who excellent stew, with its secret additives. wanted to prove how fit they were took Comment: quality of meat on trips is turns in front, whilst those with more deteriorating. sense left them to it, and kept to the rear. Four members of the H.V.T.C. ar- All agreed they had never seen so much rived after following our trail, the rest snow so low before. A fairyland of snow piked out. A fine and frosty night, only and bush. All we needed was a jolly, the scream of monkeys calling for a red-nosed coachman for a live Christmas welder, disturbed the still night air. card. Oh! for a pumpkin, a fairy god- Next morning the snow was mother, and a bottle of scotch. and firm as we left the hut at first crusty light. A tunnel under snow-laden leather- The trip over the tops was more dewood brought us to the top of Omega lightful than our sojourn in the bush. and lunch. Progress thru' the snow was Further on the snow became softer, slow, and we could not reach Kime Hut sometimes it was firm and sometimes as intended that night. Nor could we stay you went thru'. The photographers at Alpha Hut if the Hutt Valley's arrived should have had shutterbug's knuckle in force: they had booked the hut. But joint. Panoramas were everywhere exwould they cross? We almost piked out, cellent, but none better than from Hecgentlemen that we are, so that the Hutt tor with its icicle-festooned cross and views of Ruapehu, Egmont, Tapuaenuku reunion, for which I must thank my and the corniced ridge at the start of handsomely ugly friend Lindsay Cuththe Neill-Winchcombe. Reluctant to bertson, for inviting all of us to dinner leave, we had a brew that took ages. at his harbour-view home, with its At Field's Hut, when it was obvious romantic vista of city lights reflected in we would be late, our intrepid chief the sea, Hughie permitting, dinner by guide left all his gear to our tender candlelight followed by coffee through mercies, and took off at great speed to cream, then a slide show. Thanks on becontact the bus driver. Some were spared half of all of us for a splendid effort. the long road slog at the end of the trip. Tramping certificates to Mac Riding, Peter arranged a landrover to pick us Linda Redmond, Shona, Peter Daniel, up on a "last shall be first" basis. When Lindsay Cuthbertson, Bill Drake, John the 'rover reached your luckless re- Moynihan, Brian Hunt, Fraser Walls, porter the vehicle was full, but I was Brian Ron Fayle, Keith Dick, able to put my pack aboard and run be- David Smielc Jim Kettlewell, Bill Cronin, hind! Dave Ryrie, yours truly, and if I have If this was an ordinary trip, then that missed a name then he was the joker would be the end of the story, but now who kept disappearing. for the sequel-perhaps I should call it "Son of Fab Crossing". We had a -Norm Clarkson *