Lunartics - a moonlight southern

Lunartics - a moonlight southern

4pm, railway station. Gear and punters split between two cars. Realise we're going south to north aftet all. Wave of sympathy for Glynne and Grant having to dealwith Marchant Ridge in the dead hours of the morning - their choice apparentiy.

pm Kiwi Ranch. sls eaten quiche le{t in car boot - no time to eat all of it. Unsure of calorific value; cram a banana down throat iust in case. John steams up to the Puffer Track mumbling something about making the besi of the light. ',We will slow down once it gets dark, won't we John?" The moon is already peeping up above the Puffer Track saddle.

6pm Just before Dobsons. Footsteps approaching. It can't be the others already. A friendly greeting as we recognise John Rhodes - he who sets the benchmark for slide show multimedia presentations - out collecting more superb images of the Tararuas. We wish him well in his attempt to hitch home. He mentions snow cover is patchy on tops and "it's pretty raw up there,,. Just got dark _ dappled moonlight filters through the beech canopy.

7pm Marchant Ridge. Wetter than I remember _ puddles for every step. Haven't yet mastered walking on water, opt for walking in it instead. Miffed that we missed the shortcut that bypasses some of the worst bits of track. Hungry already - mental note, two quiches next time. No hint of wind yet. Finding the track is occasionallv a challenge.

Spm StillMarchant Ridge, somewhere near Block XVI turn-off. John bemoans that 4 hours to Alpha looks unlikely - crumbs I can only run it in just under 3 hours, what does he expectl Pitabread and drink crammed down. Soaked through from the effort so far. The occasional breeze but tops look clear and some snow visible leading up to Hector. Pockets of snow in the bush help show us tte way John Rhodes came down.

9pm Marchant Ridge, near Omega. Things are starting to blur. Too long since I did a decent length tramp _ body is kindly reminding me of this. Very quiet trip so far _ juit the infrequent clink of Stuart's ice axe against tree. Not surprising given the crazy angle it leans at, dwarfing Stuart's handbag of a pack. No matter how many times I go through Hells Gate it still lulls me into thinking ,,this is the final climb to Alpha" before dropping again to the second demonic saddle.

10pm Alpha Hut. This hut is always empty when I visit. Snow covers the steps. Floorboards inside are very wet in one spot. I muse as to whether previous inhabitants have experimented with indoor snow sculpture. A quick change into dry polyprop and gaiters. A leisurely snack this time. Plodding from the hut made slightly easier because of John Rhodes' footprints. Visibility unlimited in alldirections. Why does the golfing range in Upper Hutt still have its lights on?

11pm Aston. Prime seating on the Dress Circle (and not a thespian in sight). Snow has a thin crust on top. The track is best avoided as the crust collapses envelopini stray boots and calves. Slight SWer. Looks a long way to Hector.

Tramping and Mountaineering 2007 /2002

Andrew McLellan

No torches required as the moon throws an eerielight over everything, accentuated by the partial snow covering. John valiantly plugs steps in front - an unspoken decision that I'm more than happy to abide by, as I'm not feeling in tiptop shape. Lights are spotted on the Beehives/Atkinson. Grant and Glynne are making good progress.

12 midnight. Not really sure where we are (haven't looked at a map all night), more interested in where we are going. A shadow looms ahead on the crest of a hillock. Grant offers acherry "hello chaps',. Car keys are swapped, brave faces donned and best wishes tossed over shoulders as we continue on. Upwards towards Hector. I wonder whether John will stop for a rest soon?

1am Hector. We stop to admire the rime on the cross. What's with those golfing range lights? fue there really that many insomniacswho have apassion forgolp Maybe chasing a wee ball around acres of manicured lawn h-rrns golfers into insomniacs. What's our excuse? Kime 45 mins away. Cooling offadmiring the view so maybe not a good idea to stop here. "Go juice" swallowed, time to sfumble off.

2am Kime, about to leave. Made the mistake of lying down trying to eat pita bread - camembert just doesnl mafure in these temperatures. Wouldn,t recommend it _ like eating dry weetbix, but without the exotic taste sensation. Can't swallow. Swap to fly cemeteries instead _ more palatable.

3am Tabletop/Fields. At least it was downhill to here. Angle of the moon now poses problems for seeing your footing. Grasses and the ridgeline cast inky black shadows. Torch resorted to on a number of occasions. Goodbye to the open tops. Torches on for the bush. Feet are sore. Forqot the vaseline - for windburnt lips of course. euietly re*fill my water bladder as the hut is occupied. My third 2_litre bladder in 12 hours - maybe that,s why I'm soaked through. Desperate measures as I open up a caffeine laced carb squeezie. A potent cocktail of bitter and sweet delivered in a semi-solid gluggy blob. Closer inspection reveals it,s 6 months pasi its "best by" date, but do these thinqs ever taste any good?

4.40am Otaki Forks. At least that wasn't the Marchant. I'm drunk, or at least feel like it as I cross the bridge, my stride checked by the unpredictable sway. Don't wake the caretaker's dogs. yum, bananas. Fresh clothes. Warm car. How much sleep time before work _ maybe an hour? Keep eyes open. Keep driver,s eyes open.

6.30am Home. Builders will arrive at Bam. Beat the moon to bed. Clear a space on my bed to sleep amongst renovation refuse from other rooms. Shed clothes. Crash.

Punters: Palmer,

Grant Newton (leader), Glynne Lloyd, Stuart John Duggan and Andrew McLellan (scribe).