Four Seasons in One Weekend

Machine-read text (unproofread)

Read from the scans by software, so it contains mistakes. Typing it up properly would help blind readers: use Suggest an edit.

Four Seasons in One Weekend Ann Kempster The warm air brushed my face as I cycled over to Harriette's in my shorts and T-shirt for our Fridaye evening departure. The sun's golden warmth bathed Wellington on this balmy evening. It was the first day ofOctober and summer had arrived. A good weekend for heading into the hills. Our aim: a Northern Crossing of the Tararuas starting from Ohau and finishing at Holdsworth. S Harriette's brother kindly whisked us upSH1 in the grey was obviously mist rising up from the valleys. lightning time, we occasionally snatched breathtak- Thei intense heat would soon burn that off. ing views of the rose-tinted Tararuas outlined Isharply "It'll be clear by 10am - you'll see, " we chirped confiagainst a deep blue cloudless sky. The sun was setting dently. Occasionally wisps ofblues sky filtered through and across the water and the evening was perfect all the Harriette donned sunglasses. In two hours we reached Te more perfect because we wereheading for thel hills. Given Matawai Hut and were all agreed that last night's decision the Tararuas' terrible reputation for weather, it was with not to plough on was a good one. smug satisfaction that we knew this weekend would be An old character emerged from the corner of the hut the exception. A tingling feeling ofanticipation lodged in and announced that he'dl been there a week suffering from our stomachs this was going to be one of those gems flu. A large drip swung from his nose as he spoke and a of a weekend. corner of the hut was littered with tissues, leaving us in On arriving at the Ohau roadend, Harriette, Shane, Matt no doubt of the authenticity of his story. He commented and I spilled out into the warm, still evening. foolishly offered to carry thel billyf for Harriette butit was with mixed feelings to find it half-full of chocolate bars (thanks to We all blamed Harriette's brother). We consumed a few to lighten the load and set off across the fields searching for the bush Harriette for track. It was 7.30pm and knew we were planning to walk prematurely for several hours but somehow my body was only just coming to terms with a Friday night walk-in. A decision on her was made to head Gable putting up End Ridge, aiming for Te Matawai Hut and putting the flies up wherever we got to. As the hours I rolled past confirmed my dislike of night sunglasses! walking. My pace slowed, eyelids drooped, but we were gaining plenty ofl height. The lights of Levin winked at us that all week had in fact been wall to wall sunshine and as we left the bush and I wondered if we'd find a good soaring temperatures. Suddenly we realised how cold and spot for the flies. damp it was beginning to feel in comparison. The mist Harriette switched into "on call" mode and became in- was certainly being a bit slow to clear andi it was getting creasingly more chatty as the evening wore on. She might pretty damp. We all blamed Harriette for prematurely have pushed on to the hut but in thei interests of an early putting on her sunglasses. start a patch of ground was located around midnight. In The wind howled in my right ear and the mist thickcontrast to Harriette's, myl body was having a wee grum- ened. These were energy sapping conditions. On reaching ble at being deprived ofits end of week rest. With limited thel Waiohine Pinnacles, we negotiated the crumbly ridgeline functioning cognitive powers, I erected the tent fly and with caution. The wind threatened to knock us off balquickly disappeared inside. There was little time for the ance, the track was hard to distinguish from steep scree thoughts of the excellent day that lay ahead before drifting tumbling off down into the valleys. The adrenaline warmed off to a welcome sleep. me up and we descended to Tarn Ridge. lawoke in a ball at thel bottom oft the thermorest, vaguely The compass came out on a few occasions and just aware of something digging into my ribcage. The appar- when we were beginning to make comparisons between ently flat spot located the night before was neither flati in trampingi in the dark and tramping in the mist (questionthe sense of level nor flat in thes sense of horizontal. It was ing the purpose of either) the mist suddenly swirled and one of those nights when you're gladi it's morning and as parted in front of us. This time it was clear. Girdlestone, the pre-daylight saving sun filtered through thet trees, the Brockett and Table Ridge were thrusting up from the deep birds sang enthusiastically. We pulled the tents down be- valley to our left. The dazzling brilliance of colours instantly fore anyone noticed two tents blocking the track. raised our spirits. That, and Harriette's Anzac biscuits, Matt made a comment that the sky was no longer blue gave our tired legs renewed energy to continue on to Tarn and surely the Tararuas were to attract their usual bad Ridge Hut. We all agreed you had to have the odd misty weather. Of course, we all knew that couldn'tbe so with experience to fully appreciate the fabulous views that now such a perfect weather map displayed on the forecast. No, greeted us. Tramping and Mountaineering 1999 a Ann, Shane and Harriette on the Northern Crossing Matt Crombie Tarn Ridge Hut was neatly perched on the sheltered Now, this bit of the route had done before but isn'tit side of the ridge. Set above the bushline, its large win- funny how selective your memory can be when it comes dows allowed us tol bask in thes sunlight latei into the evening to gradients. What l'd remembered to be a gently rolling takingi in the breathtaking beauty. open ridgeline had suddenly turned into a wrinkly and rea- Icy mist and greyness were forgotten. Pity all those sonably strenuous series of ups and downs. But we'd all Wellingtonians whol hadn'tmade the effort to venture out started to get used to the cold wind and greyness, even this weekend. The sky was again cloud-free and we made beginning to appreciate its eerie atmospheric quality. You plans for an earlys start on Sunday So as not to miss our lift half expected a kilted Liam Neeson to appear out of the out from Holdsworth with thel bushcraft course. swirling mist pursued by cameramen. Instead it was The character at Tarn Ridge Hut was Larry thel Lamb Harriette with her bottomless bag of Anzac biscuits. Stops hanging up by the fire and clutching a booklet informing were short as the icy, horizontal flying mist continued. us ofl his attempted circuit of the Tararua huts (though his On reaching Baldy our suspicions were confirmed. We travels in 6 months weren't that impressive). We studied walked out of the blanket of cloud hugging the range and our map and agreed that Larry was safer left where he discovered it was, in fact, a bright, sunny and cloudless was than taking him to Atiwhakatu Hut where he would day. Still high enough to enjoy extensive views off the sunsurely meet with untold dangers SO close to the roadend. soaked Wairarapa, we reluctantly left our sun trap lunch The usual Saturday night of good food, good banter spot at the bush-edge and began our speedy descent to and poor word playj jokes unfolded. Memories of colda and Holdsworth. mist were soon forgotten. Tomorrow would be a perfect What a contrast to our monochromatic morning. The day. Wet fell asleep dreaming of the perfect views we would lush moss-covered trees and dazzling green ferns were lit get on top of Girdlestone. up byt the mottled sunlight filtering through and casting A painfully early start was made all the more challeng- dancing shadows. We peeled off the layers as the teming byt the changing of the clocks. Dawn was slow to ar- perature rose and we found ourselves transported back rive and we realised we were once again engulfed in that into summer. all too familiar mist. This time we were under no pre- On arriving at the roadend we met keen bushcraft punttences about it clearing this mist was wet, cold and ers with stories of soaring temperatures and wall to wall here to stay. sunshine all weekend. Slightly bemused we reflected on As we trundled up Girdlestone no one dared think of all our more wintry experience. Wel knew then that we'dbeen those sensible Wellingtonians basking in the sunshine and "Tararua-ed"! laughing at the clouds over the Tararuas. We used a little imagination for the view at the top of Girdlestone and The team: Harriette Carr, Matt Crombie, Shane Connolly headed along the ridge to Adkin and the Three Kings. and Ann Kempster. Tramping and Mountaineering 1999