Knit One, Purl One

KNIT ONE, PURL ONE A club Medium trip to the Kaikouras by SHARON BRANDFORD T he original plan was to take a Medium group along Tony1’s route through the Raglan Ranges (as stated in the club trip schedule) over the long weekend that Anzac Day provided. With heavy rain forecast in that area we put our faith in Tony1 and headed east instead, down to the Clarence Valley in the Seaward Kaikouras. This was new territory for most of the party and anticipation was high. The joy of long weekends is that club members can explore new terrain. Indeed, this was to be the case.

With this last minute change of plans most had the wrong maps, but Tony1 had been through this country before and remembered it well.

After camping overnight at the road-end at the base of George Stream we left in high spirits assured of an adventure ahead and hopeful of dry conditions as our trip was to be entirely tenting.

Day One involved mainly river travel. We were to follow the George Stream up over George Saddle (1,180 metres), down Doddemeade Stream, and to camp for two nights by Jam Creek.

The Kaikoura landscape and geography impressed itself on us as we climbed. We spotted sign of goats (alive and dead), and soon disturbed two hunters who had intended to go the same areas as our group. But nine rowdy trampers have a powerful detrimental effect on hunting opportunities so they begrudgingly revised their carefully made plans.

At higher altitude the geology of the Kaikouras dominated. The land is young and unstable—broken and crumbly rock with slopes often devoid of plant life. The route up and over the saddle took the form of a maze through steep-sided guts, with numerous side routes possible. But which to take? Tony1 had got through on four previous occasions by four different routes and as it turned out we succeeded in finding a fifth. It was a challenge for some of us to sidle across steep-sided spurs topped lightly with stony ball bearings.

Safely over the saddle though we were rewarded with a short but satisfying scree slope to descend into the Doddemeade Stream. With such quaint place names our Scottish punter was beginning to feel truly at home. The route down the stream was relatively straightforward and then we had a long end-of-day walk along the relatively flat river banks as we aimed for our campsite. Somewhere along that route, tired and ‘rubbled out’, some punters took the first of what were to become regular spills. Soon after the junction with Jam Stream though we spied a great campsite on a large river terrace and nine weary trampers made camp. A full moon, monumental bluffs surrounding us, we were happiness-filled. A nine-hour day was done, and so were we.

Day Two was marked for exploration. Several decided to make a day trip up onto the tops, others went exploring up the impressive Jam Creek Gorge. The day was warm, clear and still. Fantastic. A remaining few ‘hardy’ souls spent the day moving with the sunlight as it crept around our campsite but never quite making it down to the ground. Hard work, but somebody had to mind the campsite, and somebody had to finish knitting the baby’s jacket. Tony1 soon showed his other side and earned the name ‘Pyro-Tony’ as he assembled a large fireplace and an awesome supply of firewood for an evening campfire. As one of our cookers had been left behind this proved both cosy and most useful. We all spent a pleasant evening stargazing and chatting by the fire. Later a few spits of rain sent most scurrying off to the shelter of their tents but it proved to be minimal and we spent another warm night at a great campsite.

Day Three was to involve us packing up and heading for our next campsite on the far side of Cuckoo Saddle from which we would then have a tops walk back over farmland to the van. But the difficult terrain slowed us so Trip leader Tony1 wisely decided to head for Hornby Biv for the night. As we headed off in the morning sun we passed the Jam Hut only 15 minutes from our superb campsite. Like most huts in this area it is seldom used and usually only by hunters or people rafting down the Clarence. Either way it looked a lovely spot and a tidy wee hut. Further down Jam Creek we headed straight up a hill to Point 884 from the true left of the side creek. This first climb for the day was also our first full encounter with the thorns of the matagouri bush . Even being told it was endemic to NZ (and not an introduced pest) did not endear it to us. Soon we all started to bear the scratches as we pushed through on our climb. Mariusz’ European tradition of walking in trousers proved its worth.

This still proved another big day for most of the party, and somewhat different from Tony1’s assurance that we had ‘... a bit of a climb, but not as hard as the first day.’ We looked forward to his encouragement of ‘grassy slopes to traverse,’ though soon learned that his recollections of these green slopes was a tad hazy.

In fact, the day was marked by steep sidling across slopes caked dry but with just enough surface rubble to keep us alert. For those of us at the medium end of a Medium-Fit tramping experience, this was a hard eight hour day, but we were rewarded with stunning views of Mt Tapuae-o-Uenuku (Tappy) and Mt Alarm, topped with snow and glinting in the unseasonal warmth of early autumn. Through the day conversation turned regularly to the advantages of the walking pole on such terrain. Poles were kindly shared on some of the less stable surfaces for those without the ‘Billy goat’ gene.

We spent another mild night camping (with two using the tiny barrel shaped two-bunk bivy). The full moon gave the area a wonderful other-worldly glow. This is clearly remote country as the hut book had no entries for the six months prior and had been there for some years hardly used.

By stopping at Hornby Biv our last day walking out was going to be very long if we were to catch our ferry at 6.30 pm so we were up and away by 7 am. The thing about deadlines on a tramp is that they tend to detract from the enjoyment of the day and add anxiety when the inevitable diversions that make tramping such fun tend to happen.

For us this diversion occurred early. We knew we needed to descend into a creek below a major waterfall. In our first attempt we dropped too low too soon. Our advance scouts wisely saw that scaling this waterfall would be unsafe, so we climbed again, spotted a marker George Stream Previous: Catching up with some serious knitting George Saddle Camp at Jam Stream

On the ‘grassy’ spur Climbing the waterfall in Snowgrass Creek On a grassy spur at last pole, and tried again. Good travel down the dark gully led to Snowgrass Creek. We followed up the creek and climbed another waterfall that had a rope tied to a handy tree to assist us.

Around twenty minutes further along we spotted permolats that signalled the climb up to Cuckoo Saddle. This section of the route had in fact taken nearly four hours. From Cuckoo Saddle we had still to climb along Ben Spur and along high ridges in unseasonably hot conditions up to 1,300 m. With good team spirit we encouraged each other on, our route set by the eagerbeavers up ahead. Spirits remained high though as we all looked forward to Tony1’s ‘grassy spur’. Grass had been in short supply so far.

It became pretty obvious by now that we were going to be late for the ferry. Any remaining doubt was gone as we realised one of our party was unwell and in some pain. Gear was redistributed, and we used our cell phone to notify contacts of the need to change ferry bookings. Gradually our ailing punter recovered energy, so with replenishment of fluids and munchies, we set off on the homeward journey in far better spirits. The spectre of the deadline was gone, and we all enjoyed the panoramic views behind us of Tappy, and ahead of the Pacific Ocean. At last we could see the grassy spurs, and yes, the travel was easier as we strode over the grassy slopes. All weekend we had been diminished by massive bluffs and craggy tops. Here at the end, we marvelled that such vast and wild country was being farmed. We were humbled.

Easy tops travel continued as we tracked alongside a tired fence along the ridge and eventually dropped into a farm track over private land that returned us to the van at the road end by 5:30 pm. Not your usual last day, but certainly memorable.

All punters safe and sound, everyone richer for the experience, albeit with scratches, grazes and bruises to remind us of the adventure and challenge we all had faced. We all ate a fine Indian meal in Blenheim, dropped Jenny off with her bike to cycle the Heaphy, and most of the rest of the party headed to Picton for the 1am ferry crossing.

The Kaikouras are definitely different from the countryside we are more familiar with, and our experience reminded me why we are part of a club— to share adventures and face challenges we would not otherwise take on alone.

Thanks to all for their respective contributions to navigation, fire-making, confidence boosts, steady moods, fine cooking, adventurousness and cheerful dispositions. And to our intrepid trip leader, for getting us there and back safe and very satisfied.

Trip Leader: Tony Gazley (aka Tony1) Punters: Bernie Smithyman, Sharon Brandford, Paul Christoffel, Ilonna Keenan, Mariusz Drozdowski, Tony van Horik (aka Tony2), Nicky Shields, Jenny Cossey.