Out of Bounds

Text taken from the club newsletter.

OUT

OF BOUNDS

A three-day alpine trip to Bounds

Peak in the Raglan Ranges by EMILY SHROSBREE with ANDREI ZUBKOV, PATRICK BODZAK, PAUL CHRISTOFFEL, SHARON BRANDFORD,

SHAY BENDALL and TONY GAZLEY

Post fish and chips and kumara pie on the 8 p.m. ferry, we poured over the map talking through vari- ous options for our attempt at Bounds Peak in the Raglan Ranges. There was some wet and windy weather forecasted for one night so our initial plans to camp were up for debate. It was after midnight when we bedded down under a fly at Kowhai Point campsite in the Wairau Valley. We were glad of the fly as it did rain a little in the night.

We were woken to a singing competition between bellbirds and tui, both species challenging each other with louder and more melodic calls as the morning went on. While there was cloud around, it was still and clearing in patches, so our hopes were high for a reasonable day. We were soon on our way up the gravel road along the Leatham Valley. We drove as far as the van could go to the Boulder Stream track, which marked the start of our adventure. Crossing the river and taking a left turn we fol- lowed the four-wheel drive track alongside Boulder Stream for half an hour or so.

Some way up the track we found a good place to re- cross the river; we needed to head up a spur along a fence- line on the opposite bank. This area is known for possum trappers and just before we left the track Shay and Patrick spotted a struggling creature trapped under a tree. They flipped the trap and let it go; possums are pests, but there are kinder ways to dispose of them than live traps.

We plodded up the steep spur to join the ridge above, stopping occasionally to take in the view; or for Shay, stopping occasionally to do a headstand in a precarious- looking spot! It was very dry, and there was no snow in sight, so we were already beginning to curse the extra kilos our ice axes and crampons were gracing us with.

Within a couple of hours we were at a potential campsite; a lovely spot by the stream. With our plans still undecided, we stopped for lunch and deliberations. We could set up camp for the night, but it was a bit early for that. Or we could continue up and over a saddle, then down to Hidden Hut for the night. Either way we would have a full day to tackle Bounds Peak the next day, but the route up would depend on where we spent the night. We decided to spend the afternoon tramping to the hut and so off we set; up towards the saddle.

Heading down, Sharon’s knee started to play up and we regrouped to take some of her pack weight to ease her load. She’d twisted it coming down the river bank only half an hour into the trip earlier that morning. Divvying out her pack contents amongst most of the group really helped. As we headed further down the valley towards Hidden Hut we started to come across some tree fall. Climbing up and over, under and through, and occasion- ally looping round we were almost an hour longer making it to the hut than expected.

Looking up the Leatham Valley

Hidden Hut

Hidden Hut is a five-bunk hut so two of us were outside in tents. After setting up camp, some of us helped with dinner while others perused the hut book. At this point we were planning an early start up the track to Turkeys Nest Bivvy, then on upwards through some infamous wilding pines that I had already heard cursed by oth- er club members attempting a summit of Bounds the year before. It was going to be a long day, but we were ready for it….until we read the hut book…oh… the track up to the bivvy is impassable due to tree fall…oh….better re-think then! Already aware of how much the tree fall on the route into Hidden Hut had slowed us down, we knew we just wouldn’t have time to get up there and back in one day. So that was Bounds ruled out for this trip…well…maybe. This was Tony’s third attempt to make the summit and if any opportunity presented itself, he was going to take it.

As we ate we decided that the best option for Saturday was to head to the camping spot we’d lunched at on Friday, but rather than retracing our steps we’d go up and over Mount Impey to give our legs a bit of a stretch, and our eyes a bit of a change of scenery. There’d still be some windfall to tackle, but it would make for an interesting day all the same.

Early Saturday morning we headed off, ready for the tree fall challenge. After drawing an initial blank, we found our way round the first section and identified the track which initially seemed relatively clear. From just a little way up we could see Bounds Peak against a clear blue sky, taunting us with its presence….so close but yet so unreachable…but was it? As we stood, catching our breath, and looking up we discussed an alpine start from the campsite the next morning, a clamber along the ridge which looked knife-edge from our viewpoint and a speedy pack-up of camp on our return before heading straight back to the van and onto the ferry. Our spirits were high, and we chatted about details such as wearing our helmets on the ridge although it looked like there’d be little need for either crampons or our ice axes.

But that was tomorrow - first we had to get through the tree fall and over Mount Impey to set up camp by the evening. So onwards and upwards we went. It was slow progress climbing under and over the tree fall. There was barely anything left standing, we think from the end of the cyclone that hit the West Coast over Easter. Every horizon- tal tree took a chance at grabbing our ice axes, scratching us, or pinging a branch back in our faces. Hard work, but I was loving it and feeling like a kid in the best playground ever! Others were not enjoying it so much and as we found a suitable spot for a break, a plan was hatched to leave the ‘track’ and head down a little to another spur where there appeared to be less damage. We decided to split into two groups; ‘Team Love Tree-fall’ would continue ‘battling’, or as we saw it ‘indulging’, in the clambering along the ‘track’

Mount Impy - our back-up target

A magical Brocken spectre On the summit of Mount Impy directly up the ridge until we hit the top where we knew there was a four-wheel drive track. ‘Team Hate Tree-fall’ would drop down to find an easier going route away from the fallen orange triangles. Off both teams headed, agree- ing to meet on the four-wheel drive track and wait for each other there.

Less than twenty minutes later Shay, Patrick and I popped out at the top of the ridge into the sunshine hav- ing hopped, skipped and jumped our way up and over the rest of the wounded timber. We sat in the sunshine on the edge of the track chatting away, and occasionally looking over towards where we were expecting the others to appear. A time-check revealed we’d been waiting more than an hour, which started to worry us a little, not least because their aim was to find an easier route, not one that took a lot longer! We took a stroll along the track to see if we could see them, and it was almost another thirty min- utes before we spotted the first of ‘Team Hate Tree-fall’ come into view. Paul, Sharon, Andrei and Tony appeared one by one above the track looking less than refreshed. ‘Team Love Tree-fall’ almost didn’t dare tell them how long we’d been waiting!

Reunited, we continued a couple of kilometres along the four-wheel drive track towards Mount Impey. By now it was warm, although there were afternoon clouds build- ing. “Lunch at the top” announced Tony, as we set off on our ascent. We made it to a false summit and made an almost unanimous decision that this would instead be the lunch stop. Unfortunately, the first arrivals made a poor effort of communicating this to those still on their way up, so Andrei and Tony ended up going without lunch…. although I think they were mostly just distracted by Shay’s further attempts at yoga poses on teetering rock edges.

Onwards and upwards, we made it to the summit of Mount Impey an hour or so later and found the only patch of snow we’d seen all trip…yes, this was now of- ficially an alpine trip! There was a fence up there so clearly we were not pioneer summiters but having not seen a soul so far it felt a bit like it (and no-one has yet claimed it on peak-bagger). There was a fair amount of cloud swirling about the tops so we pushed on, as we still had a good way to go before dropping down to our campsite. We were a bit too eager to get down and were encouraged into a scree traverse which we, some way down, realised was not going to get us far enough round to reach the saddle we were aiming for. Back up to the ridgeline we went. On finding the correct line down, the cloud was still swirling and the group was momentarily disconnected; we could all hear each other but not see each other. While others were double-checking the map to ensure we avoided a second unnecessary re-ascent, the light and cloud arranged them- selves just perfectly for me to see my first Brocken spectre.

By now the group was tired, and the prospect of a 4 a.m. start to summit Bounds was not greeted with as much enthusiasm as earlier that morning when we were all feeling fresh, and we still had a good hour or two before reaching our camp. The final descent along a bumpy spur was glorious. The sun had reappeared, and the evening light was beautiful. There were plenty of soft patches of tussock so we had more than one lounging break, and a few sugar stops too. Shay who had bounded ahead help- fully, erected his bright orange tent, so not only did we know how far ahead of us he really was, but we also knew how far we still had to go.

On arrival at camp it was all hands on deck to gather firewood before the light went, put our tents up and get dinner on the go. I had a quick wash in the stream and discovered a few lovely pools which I was tempted to test the next morning. We had dehy meals as today we had expected to be very late back from a long day climbing Bounds Peak. Even without the intended summit we were all eager to eat. We sat warming around the fire, chatting and waiting for the water to boil.

By now we’d completely canned the idea of an alpine start ascent of Bounds and were instead dreaming about how we would spend a lazy morning around the camp. I

Evidence this was a true alpine trip woke early in the morning, and having been a little cold in the night I wasn’t surprised to find a frost outside. We got the fire going again and cooked up some leftover sausages, then packed up camp slowly not setting off until about 11 a.m. We took a different route out, choosing to stay high, walking along a ridge with several rocky towers which provided good challenges to an otherwise straightforward three hour walk back to the van. From high on the ridge we were rewarded with great views both down into Boul- der Stream, and later up and down the Leatham Valley. We also spotted the van a long way below, realising how high we still were. The descent was steep and mostly on dry grass, with the occasional matagouri bush. I took more than one slip, and quickly decided, along with everyone else that bum-sliding was indeed the most efficient way down, and of course the most fun too! So long as you stopped in time to avoid the matagouri spikes.

Back at the van we had a quick wash and change and headed off to Picton for our ferry back to Wellington. Alas, Bounds Peak had eluded us this time, and for some of us for the third time, but that just means we’ll have to be back again in the future!