"Mungoed"

"Mungoed"

Our Christmas trip to date had been successful with an excellent route taking us with ease through some spectacular country; us being Harriette, Shane, Andrew and Stuart.

we had kicked off from the confluence of the Rakaia, wilberforce and

Mathias rivers, and dragged our hefty Christmas packs up the

Mathias River (Andrew Chisholm)

anyon Creek is true to a 100-metre deep slot carved through the mountains. Surprisingly, the creekbed offers an excellent route with vertical faces of rock towering above you. From Canyon Creekwe crossed Mathias Pass, enjoying the views of the snow-covered faces of Gerard Peak and other bumps above us. Christmas Day took us over Steadman Saddle, the picturesque flowercovered Homeward Range, and down to Poet Hut on the Mungo River for our Christmas dinner. Boxing Day was a shortish walk up-river to Mungo Hut with a couple of tricky river crossings, and a lunch spent soaking in hot puddles by the river's edge (trying to ignore the dead weta, and other insects that found the puddles a bit hot). Our plans for the remainder of our 11-day trip through to Arthur's Pass was for more of this relaxed easy travel. Little did we know what the Mungo had in store for us.

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Day 6 dawned with a flash of lightning, a crack of thunder and heavy downpours. We remained in our pits, waiting for the downpours to pass before we thanked the resident rats of Mungo Hut for sharing their accommodation with us for the night and headed off up Brunswick Creek toward Mungo Pass. The boulder hopping up the Brunswick

Tramping and Mountaineering 2001 /2002

Stuart Palmer wide flat Mathias River vallev to Canvon Creek.

was good going, although the occasional bluff forced us out of the creekbed and into a bush-bash. From down in the riverbed shaking hees revealed the varying routes taken by our punters. Andrew's leki pole atiempted to multiply by binary fission and was beyond repair following one of these bush-bashing experiences.

Lunchtime had us gathered under a leaning rock at the head of the creek sheltering from dancing hailstones and cracks of thunder. Was the sky trying to warn us of what lay ahead! A nottoo steep shingle-slide plod had us standing on the pass in another couple of hours, and breaks in the clouds allowed us to piece together a picture of our surroundings - but which way down?

A steep shingle-slide provided a route at least part of the way down. The white ice of avalanche debris marked the river level 600 metres below. But what lay between where the shingle dropped from view and the ice? Cautiously we descended the shingle only to be stopped by rocky bluffs. A steep stream/waterfall dropping out of sight down the rocky bluffs had the potential to be a route - or a deadend exposed to rockfall hazard. Our trip was rapidly changing from a leisurely stroll through to Arthur's Pass to something route up the Mungo River (Andrew Chisholm)

far more serious. Stuart headed down the steep stream to test the route, soon disappearing from view and earshot but remaining in the line of fire from rockfall. Gingerly, Stuart picked his way down to the safety of the ice. The others followed. Phew, it was a relief to have that obstacle behind us - but what lay ahead?

Three 100-metre sections of ice covered the steep creek wewereto follow. The ice was dangerously thin and weak at the edges and ends. We negotiated the first section by sidling on the adjoining steep shingle bank. A little exploration soon revealed a fun route under the second section of ice and we boulder-hopped along the creekbed for 50 metres in our cave of ice.

Another sidle looked the obvious route around the third section of ice and Shane led the way, picking his way around the boulders on the ice edge. The next thing we saw was Shane disappearing beneath the edge of the ice followed by a rolling 1-metre boulder. We ran to his rescue, arriving in time to see a white-faced Shane emerge from under the ice edge, glanced by a boulder three times his weight, but thankfully unhurt.

With the ice obstacle behind us it was time to concenhate on the next challenge. Our route description warned us that our creek was about to drop into a series of impassable waterfalls. We would have to climb out of the creek a few hundred metres to a tussock knoll and then continue climbing to find a sidle route across deeply eroded guts before dropping down to Gibson Stream below the waterfalls. "Climb to the tussock knoll" - yeah right! Rock and tussock at 70"! After a few nervous moments we reached the knoll and adjoining tussock lerrace - it was now 7.30pm. We continued on, climbing in search of the elusive sidle route across the gut. We climbed; we searched; we made numerous "teccies" to the edge of the gut. We found nothinq like a "doddle" route. Stuartwas determined to search on but the others sensibly voted the right choice to retreat and set up camp before dark. We retraced our steps and camped on the tussock lerrace in wind and occasional showers. Four unhappy punters eventually climbed into their pits without a route forward planned and certainly not wanting to consider retracing our steps.

Next morning we made an early start, determined to get ourselves out of this predicament. We repeated the previous night's fruitless climb, during which Shane spotted an icefilled chute leading down into the gut. We investigated, shook our heads and continued to search. Evenh-rally we climbed right to the head of the gut, some 500 metres above our campsite. Shrart excitedly set off on a reccie across the gut only to find an impassable spur. Despondent, we retreated but continued our search for a route.

"Take cover!" "Fall toward the cliff face!" There was a crack and the smell of hot sparks as 25Omm-sized boulders showered down upon us. Our climbing earlier in the moming must have disturbed the unstable rockface. Shane, our magnet for houble and rocks, used another one of his lives as a boulder glanced his hip as it shot past. Harriette's usual cheerful smile and singing was replaced with silence and a worried face. Get us out of here!

The descent and search continued. Harriette spotted a steep nanow gravel chute leadingto a few benches across the gut. Could it be done? It would have to be done - because the chances of climbing back up the chute didn't look good. Andrew led - slid - the way. Soon we were across the gut descending to Gibson Stream, talking flat-out in excitement. Unknown Sheam Hut was a welcome sight.

Our planned route took us across the Wilberforce and up Bristed Stream and over Half Moon Saddle. This trip was supposed to be a relaxed wander in the hills. The last two days over Mungo Pass hadn't really been what we had been looking for. A new expletive had been coined from

Tramping and Mountaineering 2001 /2002 ffi our adventurs - "1J1png6ed". We had certainly been seriously "mungoed" and were not looking for any similar adventures. The route description seemed to indicate otherwise. Bristed Stream had been renamed "Bastard

Stream" by many previous trampers in the area, and apparently for good reason. "Boulders, raging torrent, grovel" - it didn't sound like what we were looking for, so we set out to find an alternative, with Burnet Stream looking like a good candidate.

We strolled on up Burnet Stream, heading for White Colwith our minds fixed on great views and the comfort of Barker Hut. As the head of the valley came into view things began to look uncomfortably "mungoish". This was not supposed to be an alpine trip, and wewere notkitted outwith ice axes and crampons, but an unseasonal heavy snowfall overnight had left White Col looking very "alpine". Bristed Stream can't be that bad. We retreated.

And Bristed Stream wasn't that bad. In fact Bristed Stream was very pleasant, fast travel. Spectacular gorges, deep pools and then ... a "Mungo" rapid. The entire flow of the sheam was squeezedbelween two large boulders. Go around? - ah ah, sheer rock faces of the walls of the gorge. Leap from one large boulder across to the other? - ah ah, not on those wet, slippery boulders. Just step through the main flow? - Ah... you don't know until you've put a foot in.

Shrart gingerly made his way around the lee of the first boulder to the edge of the channel. Wow... that's fastl A committing step had him across the channel with arms wrapped around the boulder on the other side. Three punters with shorter legs back on the other side shook their heads - ((ps{ for us!" encouragement - "lt's not that bad; boulder and help by pulling you across."

Descending Hanging Valley Creek, towards Mt Gizeh fe"ar"* Ct*not^l

Stuart offered I'll lie across the

The remainder of the trip was the pleasant relaxed wander in the hills as planned. Hanging Valley is tranquil, beautiful, tussock filled and with the sun shining and the blue sky it seemed like paradise. Avoca Hut is a nice spot to relax with plenty of reading material and brightly painted walls. Sphinx Saddle and the Anti Crow led us out to the Bealey pub 5 minutes before the New Year's big rain hit. It's great to watch a river like the Waimakariri rise to be bank to bank while sitting inside, sipping a cider and contemplating the adventures just had. A fun trip of adventure, mungo, and a bit of relaxed, pleasant walking in the hills. I ) t {

Andrew came next. A committing step on solid legs and a pull and he was over. Then it was Shane's turn. Suddenly the channel seemed relatively deeper. Shane is vertically challenged. A committing step and Shane is out horizontal, legs flapping in the white water and pack securely held by Sfuart. *F'r'F*l F***! Don't you let me go Stu!" Our magnet for trouble was "mungoed" again. A white-faced Shane was dragged up onto the boulder. Haniette gracefully completed the manoeuvre.

Tramping and Mountaineering 2001 /2002