"Must" - Rat Ramble

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"MUST" - RAT RAMBI TE. "We must do a Middle Crossing one of these days" - - you know how it starts, The New Year week end gave John Armstrong and I our opportunity to amble over in our own sweet time. For myself it was only to be a three day week end as I was due back at work on Tuesday, but the opportuni ity was enhanced by an offer of a lift into the Forks by Jack Whitsitt, so with everything in our favour, including the weather man's promise of a fine week-end, we set out. Scrambling up the treacherous and slippery tram track and stumbling up Sadale Creek into Waitewaewae is a trip most trampers know only too well. The slip by the river has hardened now however and is not the morass it was on my last visit, and the river has cut well into the swamp below the hut which will perhaps mean fewer mosquitos - we hope! Two friendly shooters were already in residence at the hut and also spoke of going onto the tops, but I think John was like myself in the morning - feeling lethargic and more like camping than tramping! The weather was bright but cloudy and very humid when eventually we "pushed" ourselves off across the river and slowly began to climb (will the typist please leave a large blank here after all that's how it was to us.) Luckily the track was fairly well blazed. Soaked with perspiration we eventual lly came out of the bush to see the long curving ridge sweeping round to Junction Knob on the Main Range, which we would have to reach, heading for Anderson's hut, before we could hope for water. I flatly refuse to quote any times for this trip especially since we actually found one or two small tams which were impossible to pass and beside one of them we stopped for a brew. We must have reached Andersons about 2.30 however as we stopped there for a rest and a brew, leaving about 3.15 for the Waiohine via the ridge which joins the range just by the hut. "Two hours down" we told ourselves hopefully, but four hours later, still hauling ourselves over logs we were not so hopeful. We found signs of old blazes on one or two occasions where the ridge was easy to follow but more often than not, there were no blazes and no ridge:

With"Nut's" experience to guide us we were determined not to get into the creek to the South of us, since we knew it to be full of waterfalls and log jams - and were very pleased indeed when we did strike it - just above a high waterfall - to note that we were only a couple of hundred yards from its junction with the Waiohine. Findine a grassy spot just down river we were not long in making camp and were encauraged to see that, although this part of the river is marked on the map as a gorge it is not a true gorge and the going proved cuite easy. Away in the morning bright and early, as I hoped to be back in Vellington that night, weset off down river. We had already passed a sizeable stream which we assumed to be Francis Creek and the ridge onto Mt.Isabelle begins just South of this creek. Seeing a ridge ahead of us John suggested we cut up into the bush onto it - and away we went. For a time the Climb was almost vertical but we then came out onto a sharp ridge, well graded and in clear beech forest. This was great for a while until we began to feel suspicious of our direction and a compass check confirmed our fears - I the ridge was heading North Bast instead of South East!!!! ( Somebody must have moved it!!) It was immediately apparent that instead of heading up to Isabelle we were heading for Shingle Slip Knob. We had previously discussed doing this, but had disgarded the idea as prolonging the trip too much - now fate had taken a hand, It was too tough to think of returning down and climbing again, so we pushed on. By the time we had reached the bushline we were dehydrated and moving so slowly that a stag watching us was able to walk avay without even hurrying. We came to the wreck of the Devon Aircraft which crashed last year and went down to it, but not too close as I think we both felt it would be unfeeling to touch anything. After paying our respects at the graves on the ridge we pushed on again, thinking longingly of the tarns marked on the map just South of Angle Knob. As we came up on the rounded knob ahead of us, the mist which hung around in small patches hid our further view for a moment and then revealed a towering peak overshadowing us looking like a huge thimble. "Good heavens" I muttered, must be McGregor, thank goodness we do not have to climb that!" The clearing mist however, revealed a high-ridge leading South from this Peak while the ridge from our present spot was only a short one dropping sharply into Francis Creek, "Perhaps that high ridge is Pinnacle Ridge" I suggested, knowing full well that t it wasn't ( Pinnacle Ridge being low and bush covered.) John was standing no argument however and pointed out quite definitely that this particular bump of locality rejoiced in the name of Angle Knob!

Staring at it in dismay we gazed particularly at the saddle which was knife edged and with steep rock pinnacles. We were quite sure we'd never climb it without a rope but others had done it and so must we. May I here quote three lessons which tramping has taught me : = 1- However far away a point nay seem it is surprising how cuickly it is reached. 2 - However close a point may seem it is surprising how long it takes to get there. 3 - However hope less terrain may seem it isnever so bad once you are on it. With lesson three in mind we set out and except for one part where we climbed almost vertically hanging onto snow grass, we managed a sidle of the worst pinnacle and in half an hour were on the top. The humicity was almost unbearable and with our lips actually sticking to our teethwe turned South and stumbled away to Holdsworth. Tarns marked on the map did not seem to materialise as we pressed on and to encourage ourselves we continually glanced back to where the Devon Aircraft was already a speck ona far away hill, But the map was not wrong this time and when we found one tarn we found them all! ( and very nearly drank them all!). And so on to Holdsworth where we were too tired to reach the trig and sidled the last 50 feet. Near to rest now we moved faster down to Powell Hut for a short rest and a chat with its occupants,a Pahiatua Rover Scout and two youngsters - and then on to Mountain Fouse where it was obviously too late to get out that night even by going down to Bannister, So it was dehydrated stew and early to bed - sleep I which even the rats could not disturb! Out early next morning we arrived at Bannister before most of the Ca ping otorists were around but, even after waiting and looking lost but hopeful we found no offers of a lift forthcoming so off again down the road to Santon Farm where a 'phone call brought a taxi to our rescue. A day late returning to work - but another memory of a trip worth doing and thankk to John. Ted : John. N.B. Since this trip was made "Hori" and Dudley have repeated it in the reverse - an account of how they got down off Angle Knob should be interesting. 11 There is a voice not understood by all, Sent from. these desert caves. It is the roar Of the rent ice cliff which the sunbeams call, Plunging into the vale : it is the blast descending the birch ." Shelley.