The mighty Kahaurangi

The mighty Kahaurangi It’s Thursday afternoon! and work is hell The building consent plan needs to be detailed now and it looks as if a redesign is necessary for the portal frame building dependent on whether we install a firewall or just use concrete tilt slab panels.

Three months back in a fit of over-zealous energy we signed for a trip into the Kahaurangi when the long Friday dawns no better with a raft of calls starting at nine, Andrew wants his design detailing completed immediately and Ken wants action but deserves a rocket.

Time for a cup of tea, and lunch with a quick break for cooker fuel before a fun-packed afternoon filled with more intricacies of tilt slab panels. 4 o’clock sounds and I must get ready as we catch the boat at five but a call on hazardous zones demands immediate attention.

The ferry terminal is stacked with fifty untidy packs, kayaks, bikes and their minders paying homage to a baggage truck which will lead to Kahaurangi.

What is the Kahaurangi, sounds like some form of duck, and when we ask some local ‘tramp in training’ a ‘mountainous mess of mindless mud’ emerges, as usual most enlightening.

No, Kahurangi is a National Park located towards the northwest of the South Island, an all encompassing land with mountains to the sea. Mountains, rivers, beech and rain-forests, lakes, tropical palms and giant snails make this a land that all who have the opportunity, should explore. What trips stand out over the past two years?

The Heaphy Track - A four lane walking track from the east to the west coast along well maintained tracks. The tightly rolled track is hard on the feet, however the almost tropical rainforest, river, beach and palms of the northern west coast are a wonder to behold. • The Cobb Valley - A glacial river valley with a beautiful lake and hills on either side. Beautiful tarns at the western end great for summer swims. • The Tablelands - A tussocked paradise with caves, views, and ancient trees residing in a mystical harmony. • Mt Owen - The highest mountain in Kahurangi, rather a walk to get there, but the views and summer flora are well worth the effort. • Mt Culliford and Culliford track - Nothing a bulldozer couldn’t fix.

What is the beauty of the Kahaurangi? Well take a typical Kahaurangi morning .........

Tramping & Mountaineering 2003 John Hickey weekend seemed so far away.

Dawn is soon apon us but being a hardened lot, 8am arrives before the urge to boil the first cuppa materialises.

Studying the map it becomes apparent that we are in a valley and that we are surrounded by hills. What use is a valley without some hills? We learn this on Don’s navigation! What is even more apparent is that we need to climb these hills, some 600m in 3 km to reach our evening destination.

In tramping parlance this is termed a nuisance, even more of a nuisance in that at the alternate roadside we could have walked downhill all of the way. But that in nuisance parlance is what we call tramping.

Slowly but slowly we edge up through low lying beech forest and onto tussock covered hillocks. It has been cold over the last week and little pockets of snow are still around the track. Wild thoughts of nature and gondolas run through the ether, but the day is actually quite pleasant. Halting at the bushline for a boilup and a bite to eat is beneficial in that when we reach Lake Peel, the whistling wind and lack of shelter means that it is a short stop indeed.

By 1pm we reach the high point of our ascent, the track is clear although there is a dump of snow on balloon hill above us. The slope eases now heading downward, most pleasant walking through to Balloon hut where we will stay the night.

Balloon hut is a pleasant hut, quite modern in fact, with two large tables for dinner, chatting and did we mention 500. What is 500? For those who do not know, it is the sport of Kings, for those who do, well you know already.

Day two dawns bright, which is just as well since most of my lot are not. But what a day. The thrill of high country air, birds, tussock and here and there, small plantations of trilobites, or, anyway those trees that are almost as ancient.

Tilt slabs and fire walls have quietly drifted off into the distance, edged out by nature and the warm comfort of a flat path and the slop of mud cushioning the boots as you drift along.

From Balloon to Dry Rock shelter, the Growler bivvy sounds better, but with twelve punters to house a

”Caulliford Hill – Nothing a bulldozer couldn’t fix” Harry Smith name isn’t everything. Dry Rock shelter is a large rock bivvy with a sleeping platform underneath.

Steeped in sunshine, we decide to leave our packs at the bivvy where we could stay the night.

Being late afternoon, there was still time to explore and hearing that there were interesting rockfalls to the south, some of us decide to investigate this, whilst others relax in the sunshine.

On our way to the cave we pass by Salisbury hut! Almost a palace with separate bedroom and lounge areas, gas and even solar panels on the long-drop to assist the natural process.

Tramping & Mountaineering 2003 A riot seemed imminent with some thinking that a comfy bed was preferable to a wooden platform beneath an overhanging rock. Still reason prevailed, it was sunny, you could have a warm bed any old day, and this IS tramping. Besides, we had left our packs back down at the rock.

We found a stream that seemed to disappear directly into a rock wall, which was unusual, but of greater interest was a cave, big enough to walk inside and the biggest slugs ever seen outside of parliament’s gardens.

Kahaurangi is cave country and the feel of stalagmites, stalactites, and cave wetas provides an eerie backdrop to the tussock world beyond.

Back at the bivvy, a fire was started and this, with the communal dinner and stories, creates a campfire magic that you can only imagine once you have been there.

At 10pm it started to snow! No problem, but with an abandoned hut under one hour away, and only a rock for shelter, this may have been seen as a disastrous turn, with a small lynch mob gathering and even some questioning of the wisdom of the trip leader.

There was no wind, and a stillness and silence descended across the land. It was not too cold and surprisingly sheltered and calm within a sleeping bag under our rock. Little snow found its way into the bivvy with only a few flurries settling in the night.

The morning dawned magical, a white powdery dawn, dressing the world in candy-floss, a silvery mystical dawn. Even a local kea, who perched above, squawking and kicking snow at us, could not break the tranquillity of a white swept world.

This is tramping, being in a place where nature begins, a shimmering shiny spectacle of calm, karma and quiet.

We sat and just watched, but all to soon needed to rise and begin our descent back to the place known as civilisation.

It almost makes one want to retire.