Camping in a Volcano

Text taken from the club newsletter.

CAMPING IN A VOLCANO

A club alpine tramp by DEBBIE BUCK

After a glorious day ascending Ruapehu during snowcraft in August, I was eager to consolidate my alpine skills on Marie and Stephen’s trip up Ngauruhoe, with the bonus of snow camping at the top.

Marie and Rowena left Wellington early and were tramping in from the Chateau. Stephen was driving down from sunny Tauranga. I was under strict instructions from Marie to make sure the rest of us (Debbie, Oleg, Dmitry, Austin, Weimin and Harry) got from Wellington to the Mangatepopo Hut efficiently and without incident!

After trips to the supermarket to get water bottles, a slight detour to Southgate to pick up Dmitry’s forgotten boots and a stop in Newtown to properly close the van’s rear door we were on our way—oh well, I would concentrate on the efficiency! We travelled efficiently until we arrived in Bulls for dinner. My burger was delicious and efficient. With service from the new fish and chip shop, Harry was ultra-efficient. As for the rest of the punters who dined in the kebab shop….

Dmitry and Weimin did a superb job of driving us safely to the road end where Ngauruhoe greeted us, fully visible and shimmering under the almost-full moon and clear sky. If it wasn’t almost midnight and past bedtime, I would gladly have walked for a few hours amidst the expansive presence of the mountains on such a serene night. The superhighway to the hut was so brightly lit by the moonlight reflecting off the mountain that some of us didn’t use our headlights.

Fortunately there were enough beds for all of us in the hut. On Saturday morning we met our fellow trampers, had breakfast and negotiated how much water we should each carry up to the top of Ngauruhoe to minimise snow melting. Being staunch, I filled an empty wine cask bladder with 5 litres of water and nestled it in the club billy at the top of my pack. I also had 2 litres in my Camelback and Platypus. When I put on my pack it felt sloshy and I wished I was skilled in carrying an urn of water on my head.

Just before we set off at 8:30, a group of four uni students arrived at the hut. They’d dropped into the hut about 1 am and found it full, so they’d continued on and walked most of the way up Ngauruhoe!

Inspired by the students, we set off on the Tongariro Crossing superhighway, which fortunately was not full of people just yet. The morning was clear and we travelled slowly but surely with heavy packs over the coarse volcanic rocks, enjoying the uniquely stunning vista towards the mountain—so different to the Tararuas. It wasn’t long before we encountered patches of snow, glorious snow. But it wasn’t quite time for crampons yet. After a sustained climb to the base of Ngauruhoe, we stopped for a snack. I decided to offload some of my water— Harry and Marie quickly presented their cups for some of the ‘liquid gold’ which was gaining value exponentially with every metre of altitude gained.

Some more travel over loose rocks before it was time to put on the crampons and get out the ice axe. The snow was slightly soft but not too slushy. Steve, Harry and Dmitry powered ahead, making good tracks. As we plodded gradually up the cloud started to arrive, shrouding the mountain top. We could still see the bottom and the constant slope—the thought that it was one huge slippery slide did cross my mind and make me diligent with my crampon and ice-axe placements. Following Weimin’s and Austin’s footsteps and moving at a steady, rhythmic pace gave me the chance to appreciate the ascent. Time to look back over the snow and rock patterns towards Tongariro, out to the greenery to the west, spotting a few ant-like trampers way below, looking up and around for the route to take.

A long way up we stopped for a welcome rest on a band of snow-free rock and slushy soil that was warm from the thermal activity beneath. After sugar-loading I struggled for a few steps using my crampons on the earth before making a beeline for snow again. Avoiding the warm earthy patches as much as possible and a few falling rocks, we soon arrived at our summit in the clouds. Fortunately there was no sign of the raging snowstorm that had greeted Ngatoro-i-rangi when he climbed to the top of Ngauruhoe to claim it for the Tuwharetoa tribe.

Time for decisions—where to camp? Stephen had spied a good spot just around the corner and (wisely) away from the edge of the mountain. Marie checked it out and endorsed it. On the move again for two minutes to camp one. Lunch was postponed whilst we beavered away flattening our tent sites, digging down in case the forecast front arrived with full ferocity. Carving out a bit more snow so the tent would snugly fit in the sheltered space—aah the addictiveness of snow camping, releasing the inner sculptor. Dmitry was a magician with the snow shovel—he conjured a curvilinear wall at the southern end of his and Austin’s tent, with a nautically inspired porthole for a guy rope to slide through. If Rowena hadn’t needed the snow shovel to secure her radio aerial, Dmitry may well have constructed a 9 person igloo in the kiwi-russianesque style, complete with flying buttresses.

Another decision—where to locate the loo? Behind the closest snow mound was deemed too close (especially since we were upwind). Austin was sent off to scope the suitability of the next snow mound—sufficient privacy but close enough not to get lost in a whiteout.

Tents were up, warm clothes were on. Stephen got out his multipurpose frisbee and had a few throws with Dmitry to build up their appetites. Now it was time for lunch and a brew. A dedicated cooking pit was dug. Donations of liquid gold were called for. Soon we were all happily rehydrating and digesting as the cloud descended upon us. As soon as the cloud gave a hint of lifting, Stephen headed for the crater. By the time the rest of us were 3/4 of the way up, the cloud had returned. Standing at the crater edge we couldn’t see anything in it and could barely see our campsite. So we plunge stepped down into the whiteness back towards the campsite, practicing for the descent tomorrow.

After eating some of the uncrushed potato chips that magically appeared from the depths of Rowena’s pack, it was time to start cooking dinner. But alas, one punter hadn’t read the food list and we were without half our carbs! The nearest Hells pizza was Ohakune but they hadn’t yet installed GPS’s in their delivery snowmobiles, so takeout was not an option. Harry saved the evening with his offerings of emergency 2 minute noodles from which master chef Marie created an amazingly tasty couscous-noodle fusion food delight, eaten al fresco a la snow.

Being totally sated by dinner, I was thrilled that the cloud lifted a bit so we could explore an east-facing ridge just above the campsite. At a rocky part we found some thermal vents which were perfect for warming our hands. The vents gave the engineering-inclined amongst us grand visions of piped hot water down to a hot pool at the campsite, or at least the avoidance of melting snow for breakfast cuppa. We gazed out towards the Desert Road, and ventured up a bit higher to a knob with sastrugi formations. From here we could see Mt Ruapehu, framed by clouds lit by the evening sun. It was calm, peaceful and totally worth carrying the heavy pack to camp in such a special place. Feeling mellow and contented, we plunge stepped or sitting glissaded (aka bum slid) down to the campsite where we shared our decadent pot luck dessert—a scrumptious medley of hokey pokey, macaroons, fudge, chocolate and afghans. After effortlessly cleaning our dinner bowls in the snow, it was bedtime at 7 pm.

ABOVE: Ruapehu from Ngauruhoe summit Photos: STEPHEN HEALEY

PREVIOUS: Ngauruhoe from South Saddle

RIGHT: Our cosy camp site

BELOW: A nice and natural hand warmer

The weather report came in loud, clear and promising on Rowena’s radio at 7:30 pm. I drifted off to sleep shortly afterwards, taking almost every nanometre of my allotted 0.833 person space in the 2.5 person tent Marie and Rowena were graciously sharing with me. I slept amazingly well and was toasty warm all night.

After turning the clock forward for daylight saving, I woke at 6:30 am—Stephen and Weimin were already up (above the campsite) photographing the sunrise. Others were still on winter time (fair enough when you are snow camping) and slept in. It was a clear, crisp day. As the sun crept down towards our campsite, we climbed up to meet it so that we could sunbake whilst eating breakfast.

We packed up and headed back to the edge of the mountain. Heck it looked steep and exposed—did I really have to plunge step all the way to the bottom? Marie carefully guided Rowena and I around some bouldery bits and onto the snow. Mmmm—if I side- stepped I could look out to the east, enjoy the scenery and not notice how far down I had to go (or would go if I fell). So I side stepped for quite a long way. When my uphill leg got tired I changed direction to face west, but it didn’t seem to work so well the other way. So I switched back, rested for a bit and took in more scenery. Soon I was at a point where I could plunge step and make faster progress. Then I was at the bottom snacking, relieved to have dealt with the exposure and to have avoided falling.

Once we had all made it to the bottom we thanked Marie for leading us so far and said goodbye to her and Rowena, who were heading off for a few more days of alpine tramping.

The rest of us walked on the flat to the base of the route up Tongariro. It was here that Oleg realised he’d left his ice axe at our previous rest stop. So he returned to retrieve it and would meet us at the road end.

Stephen, Austin, Weimin, Harry, Dmitry and I started with some rock scrambling that got a little bit more serious, mainly because of the pack carrying. But after getting over a section that seemed more like a low grade climb than a rock scramble, I was feeling more comfortable. Further on and we convened at a point that looked even more serious. Stephen climbed up the rocks to scope the high route up the ridge to Tongariro, whilst

ABOVE: Scrambling along the ridge to Tongariro

Dmitry scoped the low route. Suddenly Stephen came rushing back with news that he’d seen Dmitry slip on the icy snow and take a slide. He and Austin went to find and assist Dmitry, Harry scoped a descent route and the rest of us waited and got out first aid supplies. Eventually Dmitry, Austin and Stephen returned. We were all very relieved that Dmitry was (stoically) ok and Weimin diligently set about applying first aid to Dmitry’s grazed shoulder.

We decided to abandon our Tongariro summit bid. After sharing some of Dmitry’s gear amongst us, we descended the west side of the ridge until the slope eased off. From here we sidled in the snow until we met a long rocky ridge that ran past Mangatepopo Hut. We revelled in the sun and sauntered along the ridge top for several kilometres until we descended to a stream next to the Tongariro Crossing track. Aaah—running water—elixir of the gods (even better than liquid gold). I splashed my face, washed my hands and had a long drink. Then it was back onto the superhighway for the last 45 minutes to the road end where Oleg was waiting for us.

We said goodbye to Stephen and thanked him for co- leading the trip then piled into the van for the efficient and incident-free drive back to Wellington. It had been a sensational, well-lead alpine adventure.