A Weekend Away with the English Rambling and Scrambling Club

A Weekend Away with the English Rambling and Scrambling Club “All aboard!” and up Lake Rotoroa we cruised in the water taxi. A delightful spring morning it was, the moors covered in snow and the sun shining. Ahead lay our planned destination, Mt McKay, hovering above the East Sabine River. I had thought I had signed up with the Wellington Tramping and Mountaineering Club for a Labour Weekend trip, yet looking around at Karrimoor gear and listening to the accents, I realised I was just aa Antipodean out with the English Rambling & Scrambling Club. Similar to an adventure with Enid Blyton’s Famous Five, we had 4 Poms, Garry the mountain goat and myself.

Our route still open to negotiation, leader Matt discussed the options with the skipper – a slight breakfast at Sabine Hut for some. The large new hut was a hive of activity with hunters, kayakers and now even some trampers. This was to be the last sign of people till the end of our trip.

Dappled sunlight penetrated the bush; we wandered the easy track, pausing to enjoy the warmth of those early morning rays and peering into the river to spot a giant trout – more appealing than what lay inside our packs for dinner I was sure. The sun shone as we reached West Sabine hut for lunch, but the cloud was beginning to gather – it didn’t look that far to go, on the map, anyway. Lunch was beginning to settle when we parted from the track. Ahead lay the bush bashing of the East Sabine – nothing too hard, I hope?

The way forward looked okay for a bush bash, easy travel in places, horrible in others. More good than bad, though expectations are always brighter than reality. After 2½ hours we arrived at the base of our climb – longer than it looked on the map but shorter than the time we had been told to expect. It was 5:30pm and there was one more decision before we pitched the tents in the rain and snow – whether to ford the river tonight or tomorrow. A delightful campsite on the near side had to be weighed against an exposed site on the far side. Well four Poms but not a single

Garry ascending Mt McKay (Grant Newton)

Tramping & Mountaineering 2004 Grant Newton change of plans and then we were on our way. Our goal was to climb Mt McKay. Off at the jetty and then pair of Wellingtons, so it was a question of wet feet tonight or wet feet tomorrow morning. We were a fit trip, so naturally choose the far side. Shivering from the cold we hankered down in the bush to light a fire and prepare dinner – out in the open lay our tents, looking uninviting. “If only there was a flat space in the bush,” I thought. Wet feet and no dry plimsoles to wear, we squelched about in our wet boots. We all tucked in to the traditional English fare of curry, but there wasn’t a warm beer in sight. Instead we gulped down lashings of Earl Grey tea.

The head torch lit up a few twigs on the ground. It was 5am and the key to our mission was to keep going up. Light snow lay like a dusting of icing sugar, but walking uphill in the bush we soon warmed up. Our first mission was to get through the bush to the open tops. Dawn came just as we appeared in the narrow scrub band, yet the temperature was still a bitter 3 below. By this time Rob was sick of his boots: the unforgiving beasts had left his feet blistered already and with an upset stomach, a rest was in order. We pitched a tent, brewed up a cup of English breakfast tea, but still Rob felt crook. He set about a morning nap; farewells all round and then the rest of us set off for the summit.

Unfortunately the weather was cloudy, so little chance to warm up, unless it was walking steeply uphill. The going was good; an overnight freeze had left the surface very firm, the crampons barely biting, but light, fresh snowdrifts kept up on our guard. Our target was to hit the ridge at a point offering an easy traverse to the summit - or so we thought! We wanted to avoid the gendarmes so hit the ridge relatively close to the summit. Ahead lay a steep summit ridge with a drop that vanished into the depths of the Rainbow River, some 1,000 metres below.

No rope, but thankfully great snow conditions meant two short tricky sections were successfully negotiated. The view from the 7,546 feet (2,300 metre) summit made it all worthwhile. By Jove, ol’ chap, that’s 3,140 feet higher than Ben Nevis! We had warmed up, more through anxiety than Jonathan & Matt descending with the Rainbow River 1000m below (Grant Newton)

Tramping & Mountaineering 2004 climbing, but were quickly chilled again as the breeze on the summit sliced though us. Across on Mt Franklin, a row of dots stood at the bottom of the summit ridge: another WTMC group of Andrew McLellan, Yibai He, Stuart Palmer, David Jewell & Greg Thurlow in search of a summit. Elsewhere at almost the same time, a further WTMC group was standing atop Mt Hopeless, while a TTC group were atop Mt Travers.

For Jonathan and Paul, this was their first alpine summit and done with such ease that some of us wondered what they would climb next! The sun still wouldn’t break through and now the temperature had dropped further to 5 below. Celebrations were somewhat limited, as we all knew what lay ahead - a

The post-trip celebratory dip (Grant Newton)

tricky descent. At least if we could see the river below it gave some perspective, but heading down in reverse, looking between one legs and seeing a valley with no visible bottom was unnerving. Off the steep stuff and suddenly we were back with Rob and tucking into an early lunch.

Ahead we would spend a pleasant afternoon rambling amongst the moors. Well, actually a sidle along the western side of the range at about 1700 metres! All looked good, but as Travers Saddle came into sight, our feet ached. Sidling on one side all afternoon, tackling the full variety of terrain, from Tramping & Mountaineering 2004 shingle to boulders, to soft snow, to ice and back to tussock, it had taken its toll on our feet.

Below though lay the inviting prospect of a warm, dry hut. Well, dry hut anyway! But after a 12-hour day, it was great not to be erecting tents.

Our inkling that spring hadn’t arrived and winter was still in full force proved true. Struggling to keep warm inside the hut, we awoke to a delightful morning scene of fresh snow on the valley floor. When the sun came up we were still at the hut, having been willing it to come sooner. The warmth of the rays was luxurious.

We set forth down the valley, but the sun had already become a nuisance as it began to melt the snow that draped the leaves of the trees towering above us. On with the mackintoshes, and we continued with a constant flurry of snow pelting down on our noggins. We stopped for morning tea at John Tait hut, and then on to find a breeze to keep away the sandflies. The little critters must have been waiting some time for a warm sunny day and a bunch of trampers to feast on. The snow had all melted except above the bushline, but all we cared about now was a water taxi back along Lake Rotoiti, a boat trip not all that necessary but we enjoyed the rest and numerous cups of tea at Lakehead Hut.

It may have clouded over and the temperature had plummeted but there was one final act for Matt and Jonathan: a post-trip celebration swim. My dear ol’ thing, what a smashing trip!

The group was Matt Pinkerton (leader), Jonathan Dilley, Paul Brodnicki, Rob Cox, Garry DeRose and Grant Newton.