2004 / 2005

TROG 2004-2005
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Front Cover: Four girls posing at the summit of Mt Harper
(from left to right: Juliane
Wilcke, Charlene Sell, Sylvia Maclaren and Jo Schaab).
Photo by Stew Hardie.
Back Cover: Climbing Mt
Adams (report on page 64).
Photo by Marcel Lancelle.
Publisher:
CUTC - Canterbury University
Tramping Club
C/- UCSA
P.O. Box 31-311
Christchurch
New Zealand
Errata (corrected from the
print version of this magazine)
1. The author of the story on
page 73 is Syvlia Maclaren.
2. The author of the story on
pages 38-39 is Lauren Bray.
The editors responsible for
these errors have been shot.
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TROG 2005
TROG 2005
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Club Captains’ Report
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President’s Report
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Treasurers’ Report
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Instruction Officer’s Report
Environmental Officer’s Report o m
Publicity Officer’s Report
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Mingha - Lake Mavis - Edwards
Edwards - Otehake
Casey - Binser
Purple Hill
Freshers
Snowcraft I
Snowcraft II (2x)
Intermediate Snowcraft
Avalanche Peak
Avalanche Peak, Mt Aicken
Avoca Hut Mission One (2x)
Avoca Hut Mission Two
Avoca Hut Mission Three
Avoca Hut Mission Four
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Angelus Hut
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Hump Ridge Track
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TROG 2004
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TROG 2004 Explanation
Bed Mat Scripture
Otehake Hot Pools
Mt Winterslow
St James Walkway
Mt Oxford (2x)
Goat Pass
East Asian Culture Page
Pain - A User’s Guide
Tramping Cartoon
The Engine Room
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Editorial I
by Vince McLeod
Another year, another TROG. Well, not really, since
this will be the first one since 2002. Juliane and
I estimate that at least 120 man-hours of labour
have gone into this decade’s second TROG, so at
any reasonable estimate of the value of our labour
that equals a fine deal for you readers.
All the interesting stuff I have to say I have said in
the editorial of the 4th newsletter of 2005, so I won’t
repeat it here. Instead, I would like to use this spiel
to give advice to future TROG editors. Firstly, don’t
attempt to do this alone - it is simply madness. There is just too much
work for one person to execute to any
decent degree of quality. Secondly,
Juliane and I managed to achieve a
natural synergy of talents, and this is
something that future editors ought
to aim for: her organisational skills
and aggressive nagging of potential
authors and advertisers gave me the
raw material which I could shape with
the desktop publishing software to
create the product you have in your
hands. We worked together for the
laying out, but the other duties were
roughly split into technical (me) and
administrative (Juliane) zones of influence. This was the same formula that we carried
over from our teamwork on the newsletters and we
consider it successful. The bulk of the work is in the
laying out - wrestling with word wrapping, messing with master pages, and trying not to let the inevitable layout screwups affect the work too badly.
Juliane’s high standards helped us create a product
that was far superior to anything I would have made
myself, and you, the reader, can hopefully see the
results of that.
4
Furthermore, there is a great advantage - in terms
of total efficiency - in leaving TROG in the hands of
the people that create the newsletters. I had suggested that the two roles be combined, but this
suggestion was rejected with extreme prejudice
(the major argument against it being that the combined workload for the two positions is very heavy,
probably only behind the captains in terms of total man-hours of labour). In any case, familiarity
with the necessary software will save you hours of
fiddling and frustration. I would strongly recommend that at least one of the editors takes some time to familiarise
themselves with the program, because watching someone trying to
learn such a user-unfriendly program as InDesign is a dismal and
frustrating experience.
I’d also like to nominate Julian Maclaren for my TROG Editor Gold
Star Award, on account of his immaculate spelling and grammar,
which made proof-reading his contributions very enjoyable. He may
not be able to spell his last name
correctly, but for a non-Arts student, his command of the English
language is superb.
As a final point, I would like to say that the most
rewarding aspect of being a TROG editor is getting
to have all your weird jokes make it into the official
historical record of the CUTC, and that someone
else pays for the printing. For me, that particular
joy is worth all the time invested in this project.
- Vince.
TROG 2005
Editorial II
by Juliane Wilcke
I really like tramping. I feel it’s always been part of
my life, at least for the last 15 years of it. Maybe I
like it because it involves nature, a group of people, exploration, scenery, exercise I enjoy, adventure, remoteness, challenge, simplicity and a bit
of accomplishment. I’ve experienced tramping in
different countries with various people (severalday tramps in Germany, France, Canada, Pakistan,
Switzerland, Italy, Poland, Guatemala and New
Zealand), and I think that the CUTC has much to
offer to its members. You’ll hopefully know about
this because you’ve been part of it during 2005.
And this is why there is TROG! I’d be happy if
you enjoy reading it and if you get some ideas for
tramps you want to do.
TROG is a big
job, and there
are a few things
I
didn’t
like
about
producing it, mainly it
being time-consuming and me
not liking to beg
for ads and articles nor to hassle people. Overall though, it’s
amazing to see
TROG coming together. I think the diversity of
trips and reporting styles is great. About 50 people have helped to make this TROG what it is.
Thanks heaps to all those who have contributed,
we wouldn’t have been able to do it without you!
This includes our advertisers: Bealey Hotel (page
53), Bivouac (page 30), Fairydown (page 74),
Mainland (page 13), New Zealand Automobile Association (AA; page 81) and University Bookshop
(UBS; page 33). Please support them. Also a big
thanks to Vince for long hours, being interesting
to talk to, patience, good ideas, InDesign-taming
skills, among other things. I really have enjoyed
working together on the newsletters and TROG
this year.
In my opinion, this TROG has three distinctive
features: (1) The use of an overview map (page
2). (2) Being at the printer in the same year. This
was made possible by our determination to stick
to our self-imposed deadline (Christmas), and
it was very helpful both for getting reports and
photos off people and for not spending ages perfecting every little bit (please excuse us if we got
anything wrong because of that). (3) We introduced the reward option of a social beer at Bent-
Committee Members 2005
President
Club Captains
Treasurers
Secretary
Membership
Publicity
Trips
Instruction and TWALK
Safety
Environmental
Gear Locker
Social
Newsletter and TROG
Email / Website
Darryn Welham
Sylvia Maclaren
Amber Sinton
Fraser Smith
Helen Bones
Symon Holmes
Fran Bodger
Yu-An Chen
Anthony Goile
Dave Bones
Ben Low
James Maunder
Ben Ramsay
Alan Williams
Mike Hayward
Lauren Bray
Vince McLeod
Juliane Wilcke
Phil Lamb
Stew Hardie
ley’s after Wednesday night club meetings, which
proved quite successful: 7 authors did not want to
or could not be rewarded, 4 authors chose a block
of chocolate and the remaining 25 authors went
for the beer!
Cheers, and all the best for your future tramps!!
5
Club Captains’ Report
by Amber Sinton and Sylvia Maclaren
What a relief! No disasters! If only we could have
foreseen how smoothly the year would go, we
would not have had to worry quite so much. No really, we were actually very confident in ourselves,
right from the start. Well, how could you doubt us?
Two giggling girls with dubious reputations ought
to inspire confidence from even the wisest longstanding club members. We didn’t really know
what we were letting ourselves in for when we
were bullied into the job at the 2005 AGM. However, now that we can look back without having
to worry about organising another term’s worth of
meetings, we can conclude it was a piece of cake!
Well, mostly.
Our first task was to organise the weekly meetings. We decided that the captainly thing to do
was delegate! That worked for a small percentage
of the meetings, but we realised we still had to
stand up the front and think of things to say at
most of them. Once we realised that all you foolish
members out there were actually listening to what
we said, it was easy!
One of our other more important jobs was to organise the Freshers weekend. It turned out to be
a great weekend in the hills. The weather was favourable, the bus was amusing, and the food was
average. New (and old) tramping club members
got a taste of Kiwi tramping, in a fairly laidback sort
of a way. Keener trampers climbed to Walker Pass,
while the rest of the group lay in the sun. Some
more intelligent members even had the foresight
to bring beer. The river-crossing course, held the
next day, was informative and fun! Valuable skills
were learnt, such as where to cross and stable
methods to link together. In case they weren’t cold
enough, several people decided to try pack floating, and others went in for a swim! To warm everyone up afterwards, there was a barbeque with a
great selection of two sorts of sausage.
Which reminds us, we must thank our wonderful
committee members this year - without them such
events as the river crossing course would not have
been possible. We were really just the pretty faces that stood up at the meetings; the rest of the
committee did all of the real hard work!
Dave, the instruction officer, did a wonderful job
organising river crossing, bushcraft, a first aid
course, beginner’s snow craft and intermediate
snow craft. TWALK was another of Dave’s achievements, a hugely popular event attended by over
250 people from around the South Island.
The social officers, Mike and Lauren, produced the
memorable (or not so, depending on how hard you
partied!) events, pub-crawl and Bushball. Unfortunately we weren’t able to attend pub-crawl, but
we felt that we made up for that missed weekend
of drinking a bit later in the year at Bushball!
Many of you would have met either one or both of
the gear locker officers. Thanks Ben and Alan for
manning the locker two lunchtimes a week as well
as the Wednesday night meetings. Well done also
for keeping it so immaculately clean and tidy…
Drunk with the power of captaincy, the “two
giggling girls” became more and more brazen (Bushball 2003, Top; Bushball 2005, Bottom).
6
We know it was a bit of a challenge for some of the
committee to turn up to every meeting (not that
we ever found it a struggle!), but treasurers Helen
and Fraser, and Anthony, the trips officer, managed without even the slightest complaint!
TROG 2005
The slightly less visible members of the committee
are definitely just as important! President Darryn
was successful in gaining grants from various organisations so we could buy lots of nice new shiny
toys for the gear locker. He also did many other
important jobs, we’re not exactly sure what, but
they were important! Ben, in the ‘mother duck’
position of the club, kept you all out of harm’s way
during the year (see, you are all still here, safe
and sound!).
James, the environmental officer, spent long hours
every weekend picking up rubbish from riverbanks
and pulling out wilding pines to ensure your tramping experience was the way the calendar photos
show it should be. Fran had a wonderful time typing membership forms into the computer, and the
secretary, Symon, fully embraced the secretary’s
job of collecting the mail every week. The inspiring posters around uni were the masterpieces of
Yu-An, who even persuaded celebrities to pose for
the cause!
We of course must not forget our two wonderful
newsletter (and TROG) editors, Juliane and Vince.
Cheers for putting up with late (but first-class) articles from us!
Overall, we felt the year was a great success, and
we enjoyed captaining this supertastic club in
2005!
See you round,
Amber and Sylvia
The Captains took on the extra role of Law
Enforcement Officers (TWALK 2005, Top).
They are qualified for this role because of
the time they spent as members of a vicious
drug- and people-smuggling gang (TWALK
2004, Bottom).
If you don’t have a tramp to go to, Sylvia
and Amber have a 70’s party every weekend.
Sometimes the turnout is very low because
all their friends are tramping, so why don’t
you join them?
7
President’s Report
by Darryn Welham
contributing $1000 to the printing costs of this
magazine. The Lion Foundation gave us $865 for
new gas cookers, compasses and ice axes. The
Scottwood Group gave us $1440 to purchase new
crampons. This gear should all be in the gear
locker now for you to enjoy.
We also spent some of our income on two new
tents, subsidizing first aid and other trips and
courses, but I will let the treasurers tell you about
this.
Well folks, testament to it being a busy year for
your democratically elected unopposed 2005
president, I am currently writing this in an internet
café in Cambodia (can I bill CUTC
for this internet use charge?). ;-)
There were many final year engineering assignments and exams, as
well as a Tramping Club to organize,
and of course plenty of recreation. I
have been informed/ reminded that
I have to write a president’s report
for TROG. I don’t exactly know what
is supposed to be in this report and
am unable to access the previous
years’ ones from this internet connection, so here goes:
My role as President for the year was basically to
provide guidance and leadership to the committee
and do anything that needed doing that was noone else’s role. Straight off the top I would like to
thank the entire 2005 committee for your efforts.
I think we have largely been pretty onto it. This is
especially true for this TROG! I think we are going
to set the new record time to release of TROG!
(Assuming this does actually get published!)
My other major task for the year was to organize some long awaited maintenance on the CUTC
Avoca hut. DoC had asked us to do this a couple of
years ago but as I found out it is not the simplest
thing to coordinate: people, tools, cars, and suitable weather. But after much planning and trying
by myself and James Maunder (Environmental),
several trips were made in to the hut and it received the spruce up it deserved.
(Although I believe at time of writing - 30/11/05, a second coat is still
needed.) You can read about these
trips elsewhere in this magazine.
I have now handed over the reigns
to the capable hands of your 2006
presidents, Juliane and Andreas. I
am sure they will manage to keep
the club flying high and avoid the
dark bankrupt days of the start of
the millennium. As they have my
records from this year, if I have
forgotten to include anything in this report they
can add it!
Get out there!
Darryn Welham
We had some great events through the year but
I am sure there will be some stories about them
so I don’t need to tell you. We had no helicopter
callouts! Some people did forget their common
courtesy on Pubcrawl though we hope that won’t
be repeated.
Make love not War
I hepled to organize a bit of extra income for the
club through grants. The UCSA are generously
8
You might not be able to tell, but this is Darryn at one of his traditional breakfast dives.
TROG 2005
Treasurers’ Report
by Helen Bones and Fraser Smith
The life of a CUTC treasurer is never easy, what
with the stressful, high-powered business deals
we’re always having to do over free lunches of filet
mignon and champagne, but doing the end-of-year
accounts feels a bit too much like hard work.
When you saw us at the meetings throughout the
year madly scribbling on bits of paper and throwing money around, I bet you thought we were
super-organised! Surprisingly, despite our foolproof systems of financial management, trying to
decipher the year’s expenditure and income took
some time - lucky we’re both blessed with incredible memories and highly skilful in the area of estimative accounting. Nonetheless, it falls to us to
inform club members of the financial situation of
the Tramping Club.
The club is still in a good financial position, with a
$10,000 term deposit in the bank due to mature
in February 2006, and about $6000 in the cheque
account. We received a total of $3305 in grants
thanks to Mr. President (Darryn), which allowed lots
of nice, new gear to be bought for the gear locker. Our members’ subs earned us approximately
$7000. The $20 membership goes towards the
cost of printing newsletters, TROG magazine and
subsidising activities and trips such as the First Aid
Course, Snowcraft and Bushball. This was no exception this year, and Bushball proved to be rather
expensive, but it certainly was a great night!
We also made a loss on non-subsidised trips of
about $300. There are a few people who went
on trips without paying for them, and since we
are not employed as debt collectors may your con-
Fraser and Helen keeping a close, treasurerly
eye on the tequila distribution on Bushball (it
would seem they didn’t keep a close enough
eye on Helen though…).
science plague you mercilessly! A review of petrol
prices might help with this deficit next year, and
more care needs to be taken that cars are as full
as possible. If next year’s members could buy
some of the huge stash of hut tickets we’ve got,
that would be good too.
Aside from that, $550 was well spent on the maintenance of Avoca Hut, thanks to the efforts of Darryn and others.
That’s about it from us, thanks for a great year
and not getting too angry at having to stand in
the large queues that tended to emanate from the
treasurers’ desk. Have a good summer and good
luck to next year’s treasurers … ha ha ha ….
Fraser and Helen
At first we thought this was the first ever picture of Fraser and Helen both sober. But upon
closer inspection, we realised it wasn’t.
AMAZING FACT!!
Membership Officer Fran
reports that there were officially 384 club members
in 2005, of which 89 were
female.
9
Instruction Officer’s Report
by Dave Bones
River crossing
To fit more into a short term, river crossing was
run as part of Freshers. This way, a lot more people participated – in fact everybody on Freshers,
although it was “not compulsory but encouraged”.
Six more people drove up from Christchurch to
participate. It was also a chance to use a more realistic river – the upper Waimakariri as opposed to
the lower Waimak. A fairly deep stretch near the
railway bridge was used. ~ 70 people altogether.
Bushcraft
This is only the second time in recent years that a
bushcraft course has been run. It seemed to be received fairly well. A flexible schedule helped cope
with a vehicle breakdown and a wide range of abilities and speeds. The course involved navigation
along the Lewis Tops, camping at the head of Deer
Valley, and a bush-bash through untracked terrain
out Deer Valley. For the faster people, there was
time to practise river crossing in the Boyle. There
was supposed to be a cooking competition on the
Saturday night, but this didn’t happen due to varying readiness of meals (and a reluctance on my
part to eat meat!). The trip was preceded by a
talk on appropriate clothing and equipment and
food on the Wednesday, and a talk about weather
before setting off on Saturday morning. 16 people
came.
First aid
This was organised through the Mountain Safety
Council. It involved realistic scenarios and a test
at the end. Everyone who passed received unit
standards from Whitirea Polytechnic. It was fully
subsidised by the MSC and the CUTC. The course
maximum, 14 people, attended.
Snowcraft
As usual, two basic snowcrafts were organised.
The first one did not quite fill up, at 20 people.
This gave very healthy instructor:student ratios (1:3). The second was full, with 24 people.
Both were held at Broken River, Allen’s Basin, and
stayed in the Cragieburn Environmental Education
Centre. The first one had an easy trip and a medium trip both around Hamilton Peak, while the
second snowcraft braved the weather at Temple
Basin on the second day. Pages Shelter proved a
welcome refuge.
Intermediate snowcraft, run by Steve Fortune and
Mark Hooker, was based at Temple Basin (Pages
Shelter). 8 people attended (a full course). The
course, as usual, covered rope skills, glacier travel, anchors and pitching.
Rockclimbing
The rockclimbing was twice postponed (due to
weather) and never happened. Better to have this
earlier in the year (March or April).
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TROG 2005
Environmental Officer’s Report
by James Maunder
This year has been quite busy with uni work taking
up a lot of time. The wilding conifer control work I
had hoped might eventuate never did, although it
would be great if someone organised it next year
either with DoC or Environment Canterbury.
The first trip I went on this year was to Lake Mavis
with Kerryn McLellan and Christian Thiemann in
March. I would rate it as one of the best trips I
have ever done, and the beautiful weather certainly made for some spectacular scenery. Christian took some amazing photos of the Mingha valley, Falling Mountain and the Edwards river. Make
sure your route finding is up to scratch, particularly when you are descending from Mt Oates to
Taruahuna Pass below. There are steep ravines
that make many ways impassable.
Colin Meurk from Landcare Research kindly gave
us a day of his time again this year to show interested members some of the local ecology. In the
first week of May about 10 of us left from outside
the UCSA to visit Riccarton Bush, the recently developed Travis Wetland and the estuary. Dr Meurk
was very knowledgeable, and there was plenty
to learn about the plants and animals inhabiting these isolated ecosystems, particularly in the
Travis Wetland area where the efforts of Dr Meurk
and other volunteers are helping to re-establish
the wetland habitat that existed before the area
was drained for farm land.
It must have been
in June or July of
this year I went
on an impulse
trip with some
people from the
Lincoln University alpine club
to do the relatively easy overnight Cass - Lagoon trip, as the
weather wasn’t
really
suitable
for the climbing
at Castle Hill we
had planned. As
it turned out, that weekend was the first big dump
of snow for the year in Arthur’s Pass. We were
not prepared for the heavy snowfall, and two of
the party became ill with the cold. One guy, who
has since returned to the UK, was training for the
Christchurch marathon at the time. Although he
was super fit, he had absolutely no fat on him!
We were all pretty cold, but he was extra cold because he didn’t have a rain coat. Unfortunately he
disappeared ahead of the rest of us later to appear wandering a short distance from the track
disoriented and confused not far from the Lagoon
Shelter. Apparently he had fallen into the river and
was hypothermic, so we spent a very, very cold
night in the Lagoon Shelter while the
snow fell heavily outside. We were very
grateful for the shelter, but we did miss
the fireplace which had been removed.
We waded out through the knee-deep
drifts to the Bealey the next morning under a bright blue sky. Although
the landscape was magical, and we all
came out safe and well, it did get a bit
scary when it was dark and we were trying to get some warmth into a person
with a distinctly blueish tinge who had
stopped shivering. So remember everyone, group leadership and planning
are important. And if there are heaps
of closely packed circles over the South
Island before the trip it might pay to reconsider. Also remember - always leave
your intentions.
Thanks to the club captains Amber and
Sylvia for making it all happen this year
and good luck to Mike Carrigan and Steve Pawson, the 2006 captains.
11
Publicity Officer’s Report
by Yu-An Chen
Hi this is Yu-An, your Minister of Propaganda for 2005. It
was my first time working on
the job, so I am a bit inexperienced to be honest. But it
seems like that the whole committee is able to hold it together like a happy family, which
make things much easier for
me which is great!
I did enjoy a lot of making interesting new posters in the middle of the night and let my imagina-
tion ran wild which I am quite proud of my own
work actually. The only thing that I haven’t done
enough this year is actually to REPLICATE lots
MORE. I swear that I did distribute them around
uni at all the STRATEGICAL locations of you-knowwheres. Probably those tiny A4 size posters were
just a bit too tiny to be noticed by the busy people
around. Well, if you were one of the lucky ones
who saw them, hopefully at least you had a good
laugh about that! It had been a lovely good year,
may see you around next year.
Cheers, Yu-An
Strange Answers from Quiz Night 25 May
Robert Edwin Peary is usually credited as the first
person to do what?
Correct answer: Reach the north pole.
Spice Girls: First to climb Mt Cook.
Monterrey: Invent the condom.
2 free beers: Swim the English channel.
Muffiny Wuffiny: Burn the American Flag.
Which 1950s actor received posthumous Oscar
nomination for his roles in East of Eden and Giant?
Correct answer: James Dean.
The trickiest one of all: Richard Nixon, Ronald Reagan, Humphrey Bogart [the first two were crossed
out].
Which island nation has the sweetly named Kandy
as one of its major cities?
Correct answer: Sri Lanka.
Spice Girls: The Bikini Islands.
What is the first name of the only red head female
lead on Sex and the City?
Correct answer: Miranda.
The trickiest one of all: Not Carrie, not Samantha, maybe Beverly [this stream-of-consciousness
answer mentioned by name every one of the four
lead characters, except for Miranda].
What was the name of the barbershop quartet involving Homer Simpson that was responsible for
the hit song Baby on Board?
Correct answer: The B Sharps.
The Spaniards: Homer’s Heroes.
“After all, tomorrow is another day” is the last line
of what movie?
Correct answer: Gone with the wind.
The Crawlers: Tomorrow is another day [oddly,
imdb.org lists five movies with the title of the answer given by The Crawlers].
The line “Goodnight, you princes of Maine, you
Kings of New England” comes from what movie?
Correct answer: the Cider House Rules.
The Spaniards: Monty Python and the Holy Grail.
Name the TV series created by Chris Carter in
which one of the lead characters had the nickname
Spooky?
Correct answer: The X files.
2 free beers: Casper.
12
What is the name of the actor that played Batman
in the original 1960s television series?
Correct answer: Adam West.
Muffiny Wuffiny: Bruce Wayne [Muffiny Wuffiny
may have briefly slipped through the various dimensions of reality here - Bruce Wayne is of course
Batman’s alter ego].
The Kahawai is also called as the East Australian
what?
Correct answer: Salmon.
2 free beers: East Australian fish.
This Dingbat puzzle:
Correct answer: Double cross.
The Spaniards: Extra Large.
TROG 2005
13
The above page is reprinted with the kind permission of Endurance
Sport Magazine. The page was taken from <www.endurancesport.
co.nz>
14
TROG 2005
TWALK Report
by Julian Maclaren
Motunau Beach, May 14 - 15
Trampers: see how many of the 250 competitors
you can recognise in the pic below.
been great to take on Leg 1 but threats of violence
(from within the team) resulted in it being left behind. Then we had to disassemble the whole car to
fit it on the bus. No surprise there.
During Leg 1 we had some early mechanical problems, involving minor things like the wheels falling off and then the roof. However in hindsight
this wasn’t a bad thing. After a few stops for repairs it meant we effectively started near the back
of the field. This was great because then we had
the pleasure of ‘driving’ past everyone while they
struggled along on foot. Not everyone likes being
passed by a Flintstones car. However those people were generally the ones who don’t know Chris.
Even without him, the odds were unfairly stacked
in our favour given that three other members of
our team (Jamie, Penny and Rachael) also went on
to represent NZ at the World Orienteering Champs
shortly after TWALK!
What could be better than slogging up and down
hills for 24 hours? Nothing. That clearly explains
the success of TWALK, now in its 39th consecutive
year. Actually, TWALK is supposed to be a social/
fun event, as well as a painful endurance race.
Keen to embrace this aspect for once, we decided to forget about the competitive element for a
change (well, I did - I can’t speak for the rest of
those crazy madmen in my team). Obviously, the
first step to this is coming up with some sort of a
costume. In our case, this was our Flintstones car.
This stupid idea was inspired by the Couch Potatoes from a few years ago. What could be more
ridiculous than carrying a couch around Leg 1 of
TWALK? Maybe a car... (actually maybe not - I still
reckon that couch takes it out in terms of pure
stupidity).
The course location was stunning, with Leg 1 running along Motunau Beach and then up and over
Mt Vulcan (the car rolled down the other side
pretty well). The weather was fantastic with warm
temperatures, plenty of sun and some early morning mist to keep the navigation tricky. Thanks for
all this goes to Dave Bones. Full credit for a great
job with the organising, course setting, catering
and weather scheduling.
Thanks also to the five generous sponsors: Mainland Great Outdoors (spot prizes), The Lolly Shop
(lollies), Leppin Sport (squeezies), Em’s Power
Cookies (cookies) and Goodman Fielder (muesli
bars). Nothing beats stuffing your face on highenergy food at 3am.
Building the car took a whole day. Luckily a real
estate agent kindly donated 50 real estate signs to
support our cause. Combined with some bamboo,
this was just what we needed. Then the construction began. Chris showed flashes of brilliance as an
automotive designer, at least in the five minutes
when he wasn’t working on his damn head-lamps!
Jamie showed us why he’s not an engineer with
the use of a bike inner-tube as the sole mechanism for holding up the roof (this feature didn’t
make it to the production model).
In the end it all came together just fine. On the
day we made as much noise as possible by parading around the car park listening to the Flintstones theme tune on a CD player. This would’ve
The author after 24 hours of enjoyment.
15
Mt Richardson
– (Almost) Blown Away
by Volker Nock
September 17
Oxford the lead vehicle turned around, which
made us, in the second car, believe the tramping
club was going to acquire the bouncy castle we
had just seen at a garage sale. However, to our all
disappointment it turned out we had only missed
the turn off to Ashley Gorge. Once past the gorge,
a short gravel road took us to the starting point of
Mt. Richardson track at Glentui picnic area.
With everybody eager to move their legs after the
drive we posed for a quick group photo at the trail
head, and then set off on Richardson track up the
Glentui river valley.
Tramping group at Glentui picnic area (from
left to right: Greg Cole, Volker Nock, Nathan
Schuetzler, Matthew Gibbons, Larrah Pote,
Christophe Leroquais, Ashley Knoetlgen,
Thomas Basse, Volkert “Oakley” Buchmann,
Ina Hertweck).
On a sunny election Saturday, early in spring,
eight tramping club members and two would-be
members (including the author) met at the university car park. Our leader for the day was Matthew Gibbons, who supplied the willing with a personal map and description of the day’s challenge.
At about 8.20am our expedition of four Germans,
three Americans, one Frenchman and two New
Zealanders headed off in two cars towards Mt. Richardson.
The drive first took us north on highway one to
Waimakariri river and then west across the scenic Canterbury Plains, where we passed so many
sheep that it felt lucky the expedition was not
sound asleep upon arrival. After driving through
16
Starting at around 400m, the track first followed
the Glentui waterfall track, then gradually became steeper and climbed up through beautiful
mountain beech forest to the ridge connecting Mt.
Thomas and Mt. Richardson. After having started
rather energetically, the increasingly steeper track
began to take its toll. This saw Greg Cole gallantly
trading his backpack for a heavier one.
Through the ascent, and the whole of the tramp,
our designated leader, Matthew Gibbons, pointed
out some of the plants, such as mountain beech
(difficult to miss on this trip), the occasional rimu
and totara, and the ubiquitous bush lawyer vine.
Strengthened by these breaks, and by frequent
consumption of chocolate and other food, we
eventually reached the ridge and final climb to
the summit. Through a receding “Goblin” forest a
steep gravel slide lead the way to the top. It was
so steep, in fact, that we almost missed the first
sweeping views back towards Christchurch and
the Port Hills.
At the perfect lunch time of about 12.30pm we
reached the top of Mount Richardson, 1047m
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above sea level. We were greeted by some freezing cold gusts of wind, and an amazing panorama
over the snow covered Puketeraki Range. Defying
both the biting cold, and the problem of eating
with gloves on, we took cover behind whatever
tussock bush there was on the open summit and
had lunch with a (great) view.
Since neither wind nor sun showed us any mercy,
all of us were rather happy to get going again. At
1.00pm, we started our descent, following first the
Blowhard track and then the Bypass track, with the
loop eventually taking us back to the picnic area.
Shortly after the summit and still on the ridge, the
track passed through some low grassland where
a fire destroyed the forest. This created beautiful
views of northern and central Christchurch, all the
way from the coast to the hills.
About an hour after leaving the summit, we
reached the Bypass track junction, from where a
rather steep descent led us back down into Glentui
River valley. Once down, and despite the strain on
some knees, the group agreed that we could not
leave without seeing the waterfall, which awaited
us at the end of Waterfall track.
Strong winds on Blowhard Track (Top); Panoramic view of Blowhard Track and the bushfire area (Bottom). All photos by Volker.
View over Lees Valley.
And indeed we were not disappointed, since from
a fenced lookout point the waters of Glentui River
could be observed flowing out of a perfect spasized rock pool and falling down into the deep narrow gorge. As the fence probably was put up to
prevent people from getting too close to the dangerous drop, some of us (including the author and
lead by our group leader) “did not” bypass it to get
down to the rock pool and nobody “did” get wet
feet in the process. Nevertheless, around 3.30pm
the whole group arrived back tired, but happy, at
the starting point, Glentui picnic area, for the return drive to Canterbury.
Postscript
This was my first trip with the Tramping club and
it will certainly not be my last. We had a great day
out in the Canterbury foothills and enjoyed some
scenic views of the plain, coast and Alps. As for
maps we used Pat Barrett’s “Canterbury Forests &
Foothills: a Walking and Tramping Guide”. Thanks
goes to Matthew Gibbons for his preparation, leadership and sharing his knowledge about the local
flora during the tramp. Last but not least, special
thanks also to Greg Cole and Chris Leroquais for
getting us there and back safely.
17
Getting Sandblasted on Foggy Peak
by Matthew Gibbons
August 20
Trampers: Matthew Gibbons, Steven Rothuizen,
Thor Russell, Zita Lin.
On Wednesday night beer was drunk, plans were
made, and snow equipment was hired for our end
of term trip. The scheduled 8.00am Saturday start
was also pushed back to 9.00am by Thor and Steven, who were both anticipating a big night on
Friday. By 9.15 am on Saturday, however, I was
beginning to feel rather alone in the carpark. Then
an exhausted looking Thor hurriedly drove up in
his car, just as Zita disembarked, 20 metres away
from us, from a friend’s car.
“Weren’t you meant to be picking up Steven?” I
quietly said to Thor.
“Oh no! I forgot!” Thor, who looked visibly shocked,
loudly replied. Before I could stop him, Thor then
jumped back in his car and roared off into the distance.
“What’s up with him?” asked a very surprised Zita,
after she walked over to where I was. “Aren’t we
going to go tramping now?” she continued.
Although I explained that Thor had forgotten to
pick up Steven, Zita laughingly pointed out that
Steven’s house was on our way anyway. 20 minutes later, however, Thor finally reappeared with
Steven. Thor was very tired and forgetful after being up until 3.00am seeing Jessica off at the airport. He therefore hadn’t even noticed that Zita
had just arrived. Steven looked even more disorientated, as he had been up till 4.00am at a drunken farewell party for Sebastian from the tramping club. So, after explanations, and after a stop
for Steven to buy coke (which he claimed was a
proven hangover remedy), and then another stop
for him to pick up his boots, we finally drove off
towards Arthur’s Pass.
On the way Thor, Zita and I had to put up with
exciting stories from Steven of waist deep snow
and treacherous conditions on the momentous
Avalanche Peak tramp the previous weekend [see
page 45 - Eds]. Although I had had to withdraw
from that tramp, so that I could prepare for an
unexpected job interview, I was hoping for similar
conditions on Foggy Peak.
Unfortunately once we arrived at the start it was
clear that I was going to be very disappointed. Indeed, only a thin frosting of snow was apparent on
the very top of the surrounding peaks. We therefore left our crampons and helmets and transceivers in the car, and set off at about 10.30am over
the barren tussock landscape with only the ice
axes tied to our packs.
It was rocky underfoot, and there was no defined
18
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track. We got some good views of Lake Coleridge,
but quickly moved into the lee of the mountain,
and away from the lake, to try and escape the
very strong southerly wind. Despite the warm sun,
however, we all soon put on our gloves.
At about 12.15 we were near the top of Foggy
Peak, and had lunch just below the summit. There
were only isolated patches of snow on the top, but
we hastily put on our raincoats and overtrousers
because of the wind. The views at the top were
very spectacular, and Steven said that they made
the massive effort he had made to get up that
morning seem entirely worthwhile.
After lunch we continued into a bitterly strong
wind, as we tramped on the Torlesse Ranges towards Castle Hill Peak. Indeed, it was soon too
cold for me to be interested in finding all the cold
weather gear I had carefully packed, let alone taking off my coat so that I could put it on. However,
after putting on my woolen hat, clipping up my
raincoat, and pulling up the hood, I found that I
was quite warm enough.
trampers on Foggy Peak, who had started after us,
had already given up and departed. Thor humorously pretended to drive off without Steven, but
by 3.00pm we were all happily drinking dark Duff
beer at Springfield. Then, to distract Steven from
a slightly negative comment I had made about the
Netherlands, I tried making a joke about Asian immigrants. Instead, I only succeeded in offending
the remainder of the group.
Soon my largely empty pack was threatening to
turn into a kite, while the wind was driving dust
into my eyes and sand-blasting my raincoat. A
clinking sound could be heard as a river of stones
banged against each other during their slow slide
downhill. The ice axes were becoming useful as
ballast, while I was wondering how I might self-arrest if I got blown over. The sleep deprived duo of
Thor and Steven tried to make the most of the conditions by pretending to be sky divers, and were
joined in this by Zita. We all wanted to go further,
but the conditions were becoming extremely unpleasant and dangerous. It was quite difficult to
make ourselves heard over the noise of the wind,
but, after a quick discussion, we all decided to turn
around and live to tramp another day.
“How insensitive can you be; you should know Zita
is from Taiwan by now!” Thor icily replied. Fortunately Steven retrieved the situation by returning
to his favourite topic: the poor insulation qualities
of houses in New Zealand compared to those in
the Netherlands.
Our descent was very easy, although there wasn’t
enough scree to slide down, and Thor’s car reassuringly came back into view. However, the other
Not long after that we were back in Christchurch.
There Thor dropped me and the heavy equipment
off at the Geography Building. Unfortunately by
the time I remembered the unused transceivers
he had driven off, and the walk to his flat and back
to retrieve them took almost as long as the ascent
of Foggy Peak had.
Verdict: A fun, but brief, end of term trip, which
everyone enjoyed despite the wind.
All photos by Zita.
19
Mt Herbert
by Matthew Gibbons
May 1
At 8.55 am, on a cold Sunday morning, 16 tramping club members each requested three fare stages and caught bus 28 to Lyttelton from the central city Bus Exchange. In a brave attempt to win
the CUTC environmental prize, this eclectic group
of Germans, Americans, Canadians, and even a
few New Zealanders, were setting off on the first
known CUTC trip by public transport. After arriving
at Lyttelton at 9.25 am with time to spare, some
members procrastinated so long over purchases of
supplies and coffee that I wondered if they would
reach the ferry in time. However, everyone made
it, and, after swiping our metro cards again (no
further charge), we boarded the 10.00 ferry to
Diamond Harbour.
Following an interesting ferry trip, with good views
of Lyttelton harbour, we tramped along the spectacular coastal bush track at Diamond Harbour.
Unfortunately no-one could be persuaded to go
for a swim, although by now the sun was shining
brightly and the water was sparkling brightly. The
track soon turned inland, and, under the doubtful leadership of the author, we were tramping
through brown farm land on the way up to the top
of Mount Herbert.
On the way up we saw lots of sheep, which were
photographed from every possible angle by the
Germans, and saw some very scenic views of Banks
Peninsula and Canterbury, which were more universally appreciated. Christchurch, however, was
partly concealed by what at first appeared to be
cloud, but which we quickly worked out was layers
of air pollution. My initial concerns about the unor-
Coastal views from the start of the tramp.
20
No Kiwi tramping club yearbook can be complete without some pictures of sheep.
thodox clothing of some members (one was wearing jeans; another seemed to be wearing enough
clothes for a cold night on Everest) were soon dispatched by the even more unsuitable clothing of
various school kids and elderly people who were
overtaking our large group. We also met up with
a local farmer who told us that Diamond Harbour
was the best place in the world to live, but that to
protect it we should at all costs discourage other
people from going there.
We reached the windswept top of Mount Herbert,
which at 919 metres is the tallest point on Banks
Peninsula, at about 1.00pm. There was just a single patch of ice left from the previous Saturday’s
hailstorm, but because of the wind we hurriedly
put on more clothing, took some photos, and then
had lunch a short distance from the summit. After
lunch we retreated down to the Top Shelter, where
there was a chance for people to refill their drink
bottles from the water tank, use the toilet, and
bask (fully clothed, as it was still very windy) in
the sun.
With seemingly plenty of time to spare, we decided to descend down the Orton Bradley track.
This was considerably different to the journey up,
as it was more forested. As a result we saw lots of
fantails, a large native wood pigeon, and a green
lizard. Melanie Seidel also ascended the ‘Big Rock’,
which is a large bushy crag, and everyone took
lots of photos of the idyllic vistas of farmland, forest and sea below. We then passed a confidence
course for school children, before moving onto
the flat. There we all bravely passed over a plank
bridging a stream, with fortunately no-one falling
in, while Steve Gilligan and Martin Reindl checked
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back to Lyttelton at 7.10, arriving there just in
time to see the 7.20 bus departing into the night.
Led by Martin Reindl, who had been there before,
most of us went to the ‘Rat and Roach’. There we
drank beer, which was perhaps a mistake considering how dehydrated some of us were, and ordered their famous burgers. Although these had to
be cut in half for us, as they could only cook them
two at a time, as each burger was the size of a
plate they were still enough to fill us up. The rest
of the group went to a more sophisticated eating
place, before finally also catching a bus back to
Christchurch.
The group about to begin the perilous ascent
of the infamous Mt Herbert Sheep Fence.
out a vintage red fire truck. Moving increasingly
slowly, and fast becoming spread out, we followed
the tree lined farm lane to the road.
At the road the ‘7 kilometres to Diamond Harbour’
sign was not meet with unanimous approval by
the footsore, who thought the “easy” trip description was becoming quite inaccurate. “No, you take
your top off first!” shrieked one of the girls, as they
squabbled over who should make the first attempt
to catch the attention of passing motorists. Unfortunately, however, their interest in hitchhiking
was outweighed by their desire to photograph the
spectacular twilight coastal views as we trudged
back to Diamond Harbour. Increasingly tramping
in the dark (and by the light of Antje Hornburg’s
Mt Herbert places its bid for hosting rights to
the Highway Baseball World Cup of 2015.
torch), we missed both the 5.10 ferry we had intended to take, and the next 6.10 ferry. However,
just when all hope seemed lost, we finally reached
suburbia, and all made it back to Diamond Harbour by 6.40. There the inept trip leader tried to
bribe the parched and hungry survivors into not
reporting him to the Safety Officer by handing out
chocolate biscuits. We then caught the last ferry
The shoreline at dusk.
Postscript
This tramp was different to the tramps the CUTC
usually does. However, it showed that there are
some interesting tramps that can be done on
Banks Peninsula and around Christchurch without having access to a car. Indeed, many people
thought the ferry trip was interesting in its own
right. As we all requested three fare stages when
we first got on our bus, and then got on the ferry
within two hours, the cost each way was only $3
for metro card holders and $6 for the day without
any time limits ($4 and $8 respectively for those
paying cash). We used Mark Pickering’s Bank Peninsula: A Guide to the Walks and Beaches ($9.50
from the central city visitor’s centre) as a guidebook. This lists other tramps in the Banks Peninsula region that the tramping club could consider
doing in the future. Indeed, the coastal area was
very scenic, and it would be interesting to do some
coastal walks to secluded beaches in summer. I’ve
emailed Environment Canterbury asking them to
further improve the ferry-bus connections. They’ve
said they’ll look into it, but also suggested asking
the boat skipper to radio the bus driver so that the
bus waits for the ferry. However, the burgers at
Lyttelton were superb, so having tea there was no
hardship for most of us.
21
Little Mt Peel
by Juliane Wilcke
July 24
Trampers: Steve Pawson, Steve Holden, Justin
Black, Kestrel Dunn, Joshua Popkin, Sylvia Maclaren, Matthew Gibbons, Aleksander Hinz, Andreas Baumgärtner, Fabiana Preston, Alistair Straraeh, Dominic Furry, Tim Preston, Audie Stoddart,
James Mckskill, Thor Russell, Jess, Prue, Juliane
Wilcke.
Mt Peel extend further south (it was easy to spot
Timaru) which is not surprising as Little Mt Peel is
the most southern foothill. Facing east you could
see all the way over the Canterbury Plains, including Banks Peninsula, to the South Pacific Ocean.
When you turned around you saw the snow-covered peaks of the Southern Alps, with tussock hills
and ridges in between you and them (we were a
bit disappointed to miss out on snowball fights and
all the other fun stuff involving snow).
Good choice: Anthony, the trips officer, had done
well to suggest a tramp up Little Mt Peel for the
Not just any other foothill: Peel Forest Scenic Resecond weekend in term three. The weather was
serve is a remnant of magnificent podocarp forfine, and Ashburton, which is 40
est which is why we didn’t see
km east of Little Mt Peel, held
a single beech tree! Compared
the New Zealand temperature
to the northern foothills, you
record for the day - 20° C for
come out of the forest a lot
the middle of winter isn’t bad
earlier and walk up a tussock
at all. Another indicator is the
ridge, so you actually get more
number of people who got up
time to enjoy the views. The
on a Sunday morning to meet
‘small alpine tarn’ didn’t look
at the UCSA carpark at 8 a.m.
as good as it sounds, rather
in order to go for a drive on the
swampy, and there is quite a bit
Canterbury Plains and to climb
of boardwalk. Apart from the
970 m of altitude voluntarily:
forest, my favourite part was
There were 19 of us in four
the top that wasn’t just broad
cars. A good mixture of Kiwis
and rounded: As you go up,
Andy (Top) and Steve (Bottom)
and internationals, well-experithe ridge becomes steeper and
relaxing at the summit. Both phojagged, and then you see a litenced and beginner trampers.
tos by Sylvia.
tle hut just below the summit.
Gear issues: Since the weather
(This is the Tristram Harper
forecast was good and the inMemorial Hut which was fundtended tramp on the easy side,
ed by the parents of a tramper
we tolerated that about a third
who died there in bad weather
of us were wearing jeans and
conditions.)
that quite a few of the shoes
Two options, two groups: After
didn’t look anything like tramp2 ½ hours of walking we got
ing boots or trainers. It also
to the summit and had lunch
turned out that three people
there. Then we split the group
didn’t have packs, and so they
into two. One group went down
tried their luck with shoulder
the same way, this time in only
bags (two cases) or nothing
1 ¾ hours - in spite of taking it
(one case). Ask them about
easy since they knew that the other group would
comfort and balance. The people who didn’t bring
take longer. The latter group did a round trip, golunch or enough water (common sense and an
ing down the south ridge of Little Mt Peel. The dee-mail from the trip leader didn’t seem to help),
scent was a bit steeper and gave abundant opporwere lucky that other people were better equipped
and kind enough to share. Maybe having another
tunities for slipping, dependent on the footwear.
introduction to tramping in New Zealand at the beAnd even if your tramping boots gave good grip,
ginning of the second semester would be good.
fellow trampers could influence your falling rate by
Other than that, we had a great day!
distracting you. Trying to speak Polish with a native speaker did it for me. With interesting converA foothill: The views from Little Mt Peel are rather
sations on the way down and a look at Emily Falls,
similar to the views from other foothills (e.g., Mt
we made it back to the cars in 2 ½ hours where
Somers, Mt Winterslow, Mt Oxford, Mt Richardson,
we got a performance of how to clean the roof of
Mt Thomas, Mt Grey), just that the ones from Little
a car with a live body.
22
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Cameron Hut
by Fernando Duarte
April 30 - May 1
Finally, a tramping leader with enough courage
to call the team at 6:00 a Saturday morning. …
Oh painful… but, after meditating about this challenge, I concluded that it is a good way for calling
people who really want to do tramping.
The team met on time to initiate the car ride
around 6:30, and about 9:30, to start tramping.
Kiwi Land, Europe, The States and Latin America
were represented by the team members. By the
way, first time that I did a tramp with a real tough
USA girl and the tramp was done without much
difficulty!!!... ;-) … Sorry for all those generalization and prejudgments,… I have to admit that, it is
possible to do a tramp with USA people and have
fun during the whole trip,… er,er,er… Don’t take
this as an offensive comment… I like all of you,
specially a hot girl who lives in Ila… sorry digressing again… bloody Spanish background…;-)… so,
where I was…, Oh… YES…
The walk was perfect and the views just amazing.
The light slopes allow you to admire the vegetation, and a generally well marked track gives you
time for enjoying the walk without much worries
about additional orientation skills.
However, if you want to get lost, just try short
cuts through the river shore and divide the team
between fast and slower walkers… that is going to
give you a lot of time for team member searching
and for visiting areas which are not described by
any book… believe me, we tried all of those techniques and managed to make the tramp a couple
of hours longer that it could be done... ;-)… well,
and if you are lost, and, suddenly, you can see
hunters close to the area where the hut should
be… please,… remember that they are hunting
and not tramping… so, following their direction
could make you add some additional minutes, or
HOURS, to your journey!!!
Once in the hut, … our hunter friends… taught us
what to do when you can not hunt anything…. Can
you guess… of course, drinking, singing and annoying any tramper who crosses their way!!!... So,
three of us realized that watching the stars that
cold, windy, but beautiful night was going to be
more comfortable than being inside,… listening to
and smelling our autochthonous friends.
Second day, as slow as usual for a South American… I lost the team starting and I had to speed
up to catch the leader… Despite that delay,… we
managed to forget all those losing techniques applied during the first day, and to follow the track…
making the way back smooth and easy… great
timing for returning to Christchurch and even having a break at Mt. Sommers Village, for exquisite
ice cream in the local traditional store.
I recommend you to visit it… you are going to realize how a supermarket looked like 100 years ago…
and how good the customer service was at that
time!!!
The fine pictures here have not been resized
to annoy you, readers: Fernando’s new camera was set to take pics in 160 x 120 format!
23
It Was a Tequila Sunrise
– Bushball 2005
by Steve Pawson
Fox Peak Skifield, August 6 - 7
Every August a classic tramping club festival weekend transforms the South Island wilderness into a
drunken spectacle to be savoured and this year
was no exception. It was early on Saturday morning and around fifty Mexican’s of all shapes and
sizes began to gather at the UCSA. There were
a few gringos, some transformational Mexicans
come 1980’s disco dancers and the odd cactus and
chilli in the mix. After the usual hilarity of holding
the van keys ransom for alcohol the trip was underway and we roared out of town for our mystery
location.
Heading through Rakaia it was determined that
Mike the-ever-so-organised Mr Hayward had left
the music back in his flat, duh! Bushball without
music - that’s like a Mexican who doesn’t like tequila. Mike was severely punished and left by the
roadside in Lincoln to brave the local student population. The party rolled on with drunken Mexicans
seen rampaging the streets of local towns such as
Ashvegas and Geraldine where Amber and Helen
discovered the meaning of being God, why “coz
ya hungry” that’s why. A few games of hacky sac
later the troops were off to their final destination,
which was again rather too luxurious for the more
traditional bush ballers amongst us. This year we
were to rock the foundations of the Fox Peak skifield. A short walk later and the Mexicans dragged
themselves in the door to find all the alcohol had
conveniently gone past them in the vans as they
walked. Nothing like a good beer to slake that
thirst and the drinking was all on.
Food temporarily interrupted proceedings and Lauren and Mike should be congratulated for a great
feed, that in true Mexican style included beans,
some corn products, lashings of cheese
and sour cream and chilli. The alcohol
flowed and the night just got better, or
worse depending on which way you look
at it! The club captains (Amber and Sylvia) were seen cavorting in the corners in
their usual ‘bushball style’, however this
time it occasionally included the suave
dancing skills of Sebastian the frenchie,
who managed to clean up on the dance
floor. Mind you, not to be outdone, Steve
the dutchie did his fair share of grooving.
Stew and Juliane had fun inside the giant condom much to the amusement of
everyone and Julian’s giant tequila bottle/skulling vessel resulted in a number
of overly drunken individuals, includ-
24
ing yours truly. It wasn’t the large tequila bottle
that brought about the toilet seat award. Charlene proved that law students know how to have
a good time and with a little help from Sylvia and
a bottle of vodka added her name top that of her
faculty colleague, the esteemed Mr David Round,
and increased the number of lawyers that have
taken home the top prize.
Morning came a little too early for some people,
with the odd groan heard emanating from certain
rooms in the lodge, groans of “is that the sun,
arghhhhh”. As usual though, everyone except the
very sick pitched in to give the place a scrub and
the party then moved off on that long crawl back
to Christchurch.
Interesting quotes, events and happenings of the
night:
-Claudia to Veronica - why are your hands taking
over the function of my bra?
-Everyone - who is that strange Mexican penetrating the back line of that pie, and what is under his
shawl.
-Are all red chillies as hyperactive as this one?
-Who is it that brings Shrek green face paint to
Bushball every year?
-Julian - is that large tequila bottle compensating
for something or are you just very thirsty?
-Who was it that threw up first, Charlene or that
random other guy that looked mighty seedy and
suspicious the next day?
-Where is Amber? Has she gone up the mountain
again?
-What was the attraction of the sing-along party in
the bunk room?
-Matt K, never eat a chilli from a girls necklace,
you never know what grade of eat she is wearing.
-Stew, yes two people can fit inside a condom!
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Bushball 2005
page
18 is reprinted from the 4th CUTC Newsletter of 2005, with outstandingly
cutc newsletter
term four 2005
This page
kind permission from the editors, Juliane and Vince. This permission was so incredibly generous that you
should buy either of them a beer the next time you see them.
25
Bushball 2005
– Or, How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Love RTD’s
by Vince McLeod
Bushball 2005 starts in much the same way as
most tramping club events: with a tedious car ride
that is a sad but necessary tribulation to endure
before the fun begins. Our van drops us off on
a shadowy gravel road in the Opuha valley, from
which we must hike for about an hour to get to our
lodge, hidden like an anti-aircraft missile emplacement amongst the trees on the hillside. The trek is
easy, and the road is a gentle zig-zag built for the
limitations of heavy vehicles, allowing the more
imaginative of us to take shortcuts straight up the
hillside while the others march sheep-like along
the four wheel drive ruts.
Amber and I are the first of the walkers to reach
the lodge. It really is an exceptionally fine hut,
complete with maps of the area plastered on the
walls, a speaker system and decorations. It has a
wide balcony overlooking a tree-filled gorge, and
around half a dozen bunk rooms. A large main
room contains a small open kitchen. This is where
the partying will occur. Already, several cartons of
alcohol are packed in the corner under the tables.
I presume the idea was to put them there so that
they wouldn’t attract too much attention, but students can smell alcohol from thirty meters away,
and we are soon buzzing around, appraising the
goods.
I open the cartons to examine the liquor. Several bottles of Kristov 63 grin back at me. I have
worked in the hospitality industry for six years,
and had always believed that Kristov 63 was a
non-sale item that existed to make people think
that Smirnoff and Stolichnaya were premium vodkas. Next to these are several dozen half-litre cans
of Speights, that familiar blue aluminium gleaming
proudly from the cartons. We also have around
half a pellet of Kentucky Rebel, five percent. Kentucky Rebel is a fine drink, but the low alcohol
content means that I will have to consume a lot
of sugar, which is something I generally try not
to do on a hard night of drinking liquor. The best
scenario would be for me to get hold of one of
the tequila bottles and drink it neat, but there are
far too many eyes (and not enough salt and lemons) for me to get away with such a thing at a Tequila Sunrise-themed event. I would have to start
drinking tonight without any kind of overall plan or
strategy, something that could have grossly unintended consequences.
We start off the drinking with tequila shots. Drinking hard liquor first and then getting into beer and
26
RTDs is in fact the mirror opposite of my usual
bender strategy*, and when circumstances force
me to do this it provides the same fear, uncertainty and doubt as stumbling along a remote backcountry track in complete darkness in a southerly
rainstorm. I force myself to believe that the mildly
surreal dizziness I am feeling is due to the tequila,
which we chuck down with the full salt and lemon
accompaniment.
After three tequila shots I am considering taking
a fourth, but as I prepare to rise Mike staggers
in front of me, his ominous black shirt bearing a
cryptic warning:
One Tequila
Two Tequila
Three Tequila
Floor
Unwilling to defy such an obvious sign from the
Gods, I elect to get into the Speights, reasoning
(correctly) that it would run out well before the
Kentucky Rebel, and was therefore at a premium.
I get into a conversation with Claudia about our
teenage immersion in the gothic subculture, as our
partners Jonno and Veronica listen on in nervous
fascination. This discussion extends over the entire Mexican-themed dinner, and eventually Jonno
and Veronica feel obligated to try and change the
subject. Then the four of us get hold of the excellently rich and sticky chocolate pudding. Somehow
I manage to knock my plate off the edge of the
table, where it performs exactly half a revolution
before landing on my pants. Despite being almost
completely sober, I grit my teeth in anticipation of
the inevitable jibes about having had too much.
These do not come: everyone is far too engrossed
in the chocolatey goodness to notice the outside
world. Far in the future, the fact that we banned
marijuana while allowing sugar will be considered
a Madness of the Primitive World, alongside the
belief that the Sun sinks into the sea every night.
Shortly after satiating ourselves on the dessert,
the group disperses all over the lodge, and I end
up talking to Steven, yet another tall Dutchman,
about boxing. The Kentucky Rebel is now the only
beverage left, and thanks to this and the subject
of conversation I can feel the atmosphere becoming rapidly more macho. For some reason, I find
myself brandishing an aluminium vacuum cleaner
pipe at hypothetical enemies. The people around
me back away slightly, their faces the disgusted
TROG 2005
masks of zoo patrons watching a chimp masturbate in a cage. I can hear myself reeling off a list
of conditions that need to be fulfilled before I can
actually attack anyone, but for some reason I can’t
understand what they are. Are they reasonable? I
have no way of knowing.
The people around me have somehow vanished,
leaving me almost alone in the corridor, except for
a dim presence that I can barely sense. Had I finally gone overboard and struck someone, causing the bystanders to scuttle away for their own
safety? I examine the pipe. It is undamaged. The
presence comes around the corner, revealing itself to be Julian. Had I threatened him with the
pipe? He grins at me impishly. His vibes are too
positive, too trusting for a man who has just been
threatened by a drunken two meter maniac with a
segment of vacuum cleaner pipe. He makes a joke
about it, and confusion rises in me like dust rising from 12 gauge buckshot striking the dry Canterbury dirt. When the dust has cleared, Julian is
gone. Steve Pawson enters from the balcony and
glances away. The vibes are bad. Had I threatened
him with the pipe? Had he threatened me? Should
I attack him? He is gone before any decision could
be made, and Julian is standing beside me again.
A bolt of wisdom flashes through me, and I give
the pipe to Julian. “Keep this damn thing away
from me,” I hear myself saying, “I don’t trust myself any longer.”
I enter the main room, and discover it full of people. One man stands out: Jonno, a six and a half
feet tall simulacrum of myself, and I have something to tell him. Talking to Jonno is always good
for my posture, which otherwise suffers badly from
the architectural discrimination inflicted upon me
by people of mainstream height. I go up to him. “I
have a present for you, from Phil.”
He smiles amusedly and stares at me, waiting for
me to go on. I was not carrying the present, which
I had promised Phil some months ago to give to
Jonno at Bushball. “It must be in my room. I’ll just
go and get it.”
Getting the present would require going back
through the hallway where the various vacuum
cleaner incidents had happened, so I take backup
in the form of another can of Kentucky Rebel. I
manage to locate my room and find the present
in the darkness. Through years of drunkenly fumbling through backpacks without any illumination
I have developed a system of pack organisation so
meticulous that it makes the planners of the Apollo
missions look like a bunch of stoners. Books, magazines and maps are always kept in the kangaroo
pouch at the back of the main compartment and,
with conscious thought lagging some distance behind my actions, I extricate the hard, thin, rectangular present in less than two and a half seconds.
If I can get back to Jonno without seeing Julian,
Steve Pawson, Steven the Dutchman or a vacuum
cleaner I will be alright. However my progress is
halted by the sight of my wife wearing a seven
foot tall tequila bottle. She smiles at me and says
Hi as I stop stunned in my tracks. Should I return the greeting or just leap out the window? I
have no time to make a decision as she soon forgets about me and returns to the main room, with
me close behind. This would be a constant theme
of the night for me: escaping potentially dismal
situations due to my inability to make a decision
fast enough to do anything stupid. I notice Jonno
straight away and give him the present, briefly
mistaking him for Glenn McGrath.
A nagging feeling in my bladder reminds me of
the Second Law of Drinking: for every intake there
is an equal and opposite outtake. I go for a piss
outside, in the bank. A bubble of mild alarm bursts
lazily through the swampy layers of intoxication
as I realise a man is standing two feet away from
me in the darkness. It is Steve Fortune, He the
Unfazable, dressed in a rough woollen blanket and
sombrero. I can feel a great connection between
him and me, two drunken men sharing the same
goal, executing the same mission, brothers sharing the same drunken taxi cab. I am struck by a
powerful desire to hug him, but the logistical problems involved in hugging another drunken, urinating and uncoordinated man are obvious and dire.
I return to the lodge to see three engineers dissecting a damaged speaker like lions devouring a
fresh kill. A clear hierarchy is at work here, with
the most aggressive and knowledgeable of the
three wielding the screwdriver like a king wielding
a scepter. With my limited knowledge of computer
programming being the closest I have to electrical engineering ability, I am forced to stand at the
back and learn.
Stepping back from the dissection, which I come
to realise is doomed to failure, I hear a yelp from
behind me. Sylvia is looking at me with an upset
pout, and has one bare foot extended forwards.
Has she stubbed her toe? I look at her blankly. Her
gaze drops to her foot and then rises back to me,
her pout becoming more pronounced.
“You stood on my toe!” she cried, looking into my
drunken face and perceiving correctly that I might
never have realised this without help. I don’t remember if I apologised or not. I may have attempted to, but whether or not the attempt was
coherent is unclear to me.
The combined effect of all these disturbances leads
me to seek a proven source of solace - I have to
talk to Stewie. I believe that he shares with me a
curious personality trait, namely that his real personality is normally buried under a layer of so-
27
briety, and he therefore becomes more real the
more alcohol he gets in him. This is in contrast to
probably 80% of drinkers, for whom the alcohol
strips away the thin layers of civilisation like paint
until they become gibbering Cro-Magnons. For me
then, as the behavioural predictability of my fellow
revelers drops to apocalyptic lows, Stewie is like
a rock of mental stability. Right now I am half expecting the other bushballers to start eating their
own feces any minute, and I badly need a respite. He hands me a Speights that he had been
hoarding, and we talk about the sad lack of single
women at this event. Bushball is notorious for getting couples to hook up, be it for life or merely
for a few minutes, but the absence of available
targets means we’d have to start stealing women
from each other. Given how smashed we are (on
tequila and Kentucky Rebel, no less), attempting
this would be like throwing a firecracker into a
shipping container full of starving pit bull terriers.
Possibly for this reason, but more likely from the
almost complete destruction of our verbal and motor skills, we decide against this.
At this point my memory becomes a little blurry. I
would write about the shadowy flashes of events
that feebly bubble to life when I think back on this
time period, but my faith in the truth of these halfmemories is extremely small. All I can say for certain is that I went to the outdoors toilet as things
were winding down for good, was unable to find
the light switch, and after an hour or so of sitting
in the darkness began to believe that I was on a
caving trip that had gone horribly wrong. After sobering up a little, I return to the main room of the
lodge, which is now dark.
Somehow I manage to find the light switch and
illuminate the room. It is horrifically filthy. Potato
chip packets, fruit and empty alcohol receptacles
lie everywhere, without any pattern to suggest
that anything more civilised than pigs had strewn
them around. My mind conjures an image of the
vans and trailers backing up to the windows and
doors of the room and violently expelling their
contents inside like bursting, ripe zits. I cannot
deal with this vision, and I flip off the lights and
fumble blindly back to my bunk.
I am forced to detour out onto the balcony to take
a piss. A person lies there in the frost, not moving. I squint and look closer - they are in a sleeping bag, and not dead but in fact fast asleep. I
briefly consider playing a mean and exceptionally
crude practical joke before deciding against it, and
walking up to the edge of the balcony. This is the
biggest problem of the night. Despite being 6’ 7”
I am not quite tall enough to reach over the edge
of the high balcony. Urinating through the gaps in
the balcony is impossible on account of my lack
of trust in my ability to remain standing with bent
knees. I cannot urinate over the balcony on an
28
angle because some of the urine will run down the
shaft onto my hand, and I am in no mood to go
back into the kitchen to find a washbasin. Standing on my tiptoes would provide me with sufficient
height, but there is no way I could maintain my
balance long enough to avoid tumbling over the
edge and falling onto the rocks below, becoming
crippled for life. I am forced to raise one leg onto
the balcony fence and stand on tiptoes on the other, like an Olympic gymnast on the horse, only a
thousand times less so.
Returning to my room, I climb up the puny wooden ladder, hoping it will hold my weight, and crawl
along the bunk. My boots are still on, but my feet
would hang over the edge anyway so I don’t mind.
Sleep comes quickly and mercifully.
Morning arrives four hours later, and I am last out
of bed. I stagger around the lodge alone. Have
they all left? Did I do something so embarrassing
and stupid that even my own wife left me here? No
- everyone is outside. A debate is raging over who
should receive the Toilet Seat Award - Charlene or
one of the several hard-to-distinguish Mexicans.
After much debate, the award is given to Charlene.
Her body language suggests the result is unjust,
but the crowd is bored and baying for a result, and
a mere draw will not placate their sadistic urges.
The traditional ritual humiliation over, we charge
down the hill, ready for the long ride back to the
City. All around us we can see a dozen Mexicans
zig-zagging down the hill and through the tussock
like some 19th century bandits. All they need is
two dozen unreliable handguns and a treasure
chest full of gold.
Back in the UCSA carpark, I mention to Jonno that
I think he looks like Glenn McGrath. “Do you find
Glenn McGrath attractive?” he asks. This is obviously a trick question, and I am unsure how to
respond.
“Not really.” I answer with a thin veneer of casualness, figuring it’s best not to encourage him. That
would be the last of my many lucky escapes on
Bushball 2005.
---------------------* In fact I generally don’t drink RTDs at all, mostly
due to my total inability to accurately estimate alcohol consumption while drinking them. The bitter
taste of beer builds up over time, and the psychic shock from chucking back some hard liquor
doesn’t leave me in a hurry. But I can hardly taste
the alcohol in RTDs, and that’s never good, as anyone who’s been drunk on Swedish schnapps will
attest.
TROG 2005
Cake Competition
June 8
Clockwise from top left:
Julian reaching for more
cake; Hand Cake by Jo;
Ben greatly enjoying free
cake; Esmeralda Cake by
Rosa (overall winner);
judges
conscientiously
attempt to arrive at a decision; Snow Princess on
Port Hills Cake by Andy;
Marcel has found his favourite cake; Sylvia giggling about a successful
Wednesday night club
meeting.
29
30
TROG 2005
Mingha – Deception
by Fernando Duarte
journey: great views, amazing waterfalls and, of
course, an outstanding team. If we forgot the two
or three times that we lost the track on purpose,
of course, just to make it more exciting…, the first
day segment was just perfect… and we even had
time to practise some river crossing… Goat Hut
gave the space and facilities to have a good break
and meet local trampers…
March 19 - 20
Just international trampers in this adventure, 3
Austrians, 2 Swedish, 3 guys from France and a
Chilean. Starting from the UCSA car park on Saturday of the 19th at 7:30, record time considering
the team was led by a South American and had
three French trampers…that allowed us to start
walking around 11:00… of course, after leaving
our details at DOC and having the traditional European mid-morning coffee…
Goat Pass Hut.
We divided the second day into two sections. The
first was an easy walk to Lake Mavis… a small pool
on one of the tops that surrounds the Goat Hut…
great place for good pictures… even for spending
the night if you carry a tent.
Left Mavis, we returned to the Goat Hut for our
backpacks and started our way back following Mingha River. It is a great track and very well marked
route, excellent for keeping a good rhythm and
finishing the tramp on time to arrive at Christchurch for a good shower and a great dinner.
I definitely recommend this tramp to everyone.
Anyway, leaving the cars in the North and South
points of the trip, the walking started from Deception River (the North point)… Fortunately, the
bridge, where the tramp starts and which was designed to resist a maximum of 5 New Zealanders,… supported the 9 international trampers pretty well…;-/… which talks not too bad about our
physical conditions… but terrible about our watchfulness about health and safety… too anxious to
start I guess…
… After that small detail… we continued our first
day following Deception River. That was a fantastic
Lake Mavis. All photos by Thomas Seifried.
31
Mingha - Lake Mavis - Edwards
by James Maunder
March 19 - 20
Trampers: James Maunder, Kerryn
McLellan, Christian Thiemann.
We leave the carpark at the Bealey-Mingha confluence at about ten
o’clock on a Saturday morning.
It is one of those Saturdays that
rains all the way to Porter’s Pass
and then fines up by the time you
get to Arthur’s - and it stays that
way.
Boots already wet from fording the
Bealey, we head up the true right
side of the Mingha, passing a couple of other parties on the way to
the Mingha Biv. A man passes us,
running. He passes us again, running, on his return trip from Goat
Pass. We discuss the virtues of travelling fast and
light while we move clumsily under our chocolatefoam mat-tent-coat-cooker-sleeping bag packs.
The river is beautiful. It is that rock-flour aquamarine that runs stark against the steep scree slopes
of the Polar Range. The air is clear, and much like
the water if you were able to breathe it. We have
been very lucky with the weather we say.
We gain some altitude and find ourselves near to
Goat Pass [1070m] sometime after lunch. Look-
ing towards Mt Oates, the way looks to be a steep
grunt. And it is.
We make off up the south side of the stream draining Mavis, unsure whether or not the route is viable. The stream becomes a gorge out of sight
of Goat Pass. We climb to a deep gut of rotten
rock cutting from the stream up to the ridge to our
right and we cannot pass it [1350m].
Forced to descend five or so contours, we find a
crossing place above the first waterfall and begin
our ascent of the northerly ridge. Future reference: climb the spur on the north
side of the Mavis stream from the
Pass.
The going from here is reasonably
steep on snow grass all the way to
Lake Mavis, however climbing the
north spur, as suggested above,
would make the whole thing a lot
easier. Reaching the camp at dusk
[1582m], members of the party
are overheard denying being “those
guys going up the other side”. Oh
well, you live and you learn.
There are several good spots to
pitch a tent on the western shore
of the lake, and needless to say,
the views are fantastic. Patches of
snow on Oates reflect mirror-like
on the glassy surface of the lake,
32
TROG 2005
and the Mingha and Deception rivers stretch out far below us.
Gregg’s butterscotch instant pudding is made even more delicious
by the addition of crushed chocolate - a real winner. Thanks to Kerryn McLellan for this handy tip. A
rinse-to-clean billy is an added bonus.
The next morning dawns fine, and
we head off around the northern
flanks of Mt Oates. We climb to the
northern ridge to avoid what looks
like an unfriendly scree, then descend to a distinct saddle [1730m].
From here, route finding becomes
very important, as it is steep going with bluffs and ravines making
many ways impassable.
Dropping down to the level of a small lake we
move northward again with the fallen part of Falling Mountain in our sights. A large ravine that
appears completely not do-able turns out to be
do-able, depositing us at the top of an enormous
boulder field. All the little bits of Falling Mountain.
This is Taruahuna Pass [1252m]. The boulder hopping is tough on the feet, but it turns out to be
easy when you know how, and even easier when we get to the river plain of the
Edwards. The going from here is comparatively quick and we make the Edwards
hut in good time. But we’re not staying;
the names go in the hut book, and we are
off again.
Then it’s down and down, all the way to
the Bealey. I don’t want to go home, so
in an act of negligence, I desert my party
and have a freezing shower under a cascade of whitewater splashing noisily into
the lower reaches of the Edwards, which
flows into the Bealey, which flows into the
Waimak, which flows all the way home.
The first day took about 8 hours, the
second day took around 9 or 10.
All Photos by Christian.
33
Edwards – Otehake
by Juliane Wilcke
April 8 - 10
Trampers: Claudia Nelles, Jonno Hill, Julian Maclaren, Juliane Wilcke, Scott Birney.
Anyone wanting to spend Saturday night in backcountry hot pools? We’re offering good weather
and a choice of easy or hard way in. - The trip
started with Julian’s e-mail to the chat list, and
even though we were trying not to organise anything, quite a bit of time was wasted sending emails back and forth. On Thursday MetService decided that the high over the South Island would
encircle a low and bring us rain. However, we
didn’t want to be stopped, and Casper and Nadine
decided to go in the easy way for different reasons
- they advised us 10 min before the meeting time
for the harder trip on Friday night.
The five of us finally started walking at 8:30 pm.
It was dark and drizzling. If anybody ever had the
hope of dry feet, it was destroyed by crossing the
Bealey River. Right at the start of the tramp, Jonno’s desire of outdoing Julian in navigation for once
was fulfilled. Julian’s path described a semicircle
looking for the Mingha River to be crossed - but instead he saw cars from SH73 coming towards him
(Jonno’s car was parked south of the confluence
of the Bealey and the Mingha, so we had crossed
both of them at once and were back on our way to
Christchurch on foot - but no, not this fast).
Tramping at night with head torches isn’t bad, especially if you still feel fresh and fit because you
haven’t already been walking all day. Too bad
though that we couldn’t see any of the waterfalls
Standing on top of Taruahuna Pass (from
left): Juliane, Julian, Claudia, Jonno. Both
photos by Scott.
34
and other possibly nice nature stuff in the Edwards
Valley. Should go back there some time during the
day. Anyway, we went on over shingle flats and
on bush tracks and made it to the hut at 12:30
am. Good hut, standard model, we just didn’t get
to enjoy it much with a wake-up time of 5:45 am
(we had heard that two guys took 12 hours to get
to the hot pools from the hut the weekend before
- pretty much the amount of daylight we’d have).
It had been constantly drizzling and raining during the night, so we had breakfast in bed while
discussing our options. The critical rivers to be
crossed, Whaiti Stream and Otehake River, were
both at the end of the track. Should we just walk
out again the same way and then either walk in
the easy way if the rivers weren’t too high or try
to meet the others in Arthur’s Pass Village? If the
weather was wet enough, would they even come?
When we finally started walking at 7 am on our
planned route, it suddenly stopped raining. Even
Julian’s Kiwi optimism of sun and blue sky was
partly rewarded later in the day.
After about two hours over tussock terraces, we got
to Taruahuna Pass which consists of an impressive
pile of rock debris that came down from Falling
Mountain during the 1929 earthquake. From there
we also had great views into the valley of the West
Branch of the Otehake. After descending into that,
Julian quite successfully offered his chocolatecoated ginger lollies to everyone resulting in three
grimacing faces. If you haven’t guessed, the strategy is to find food, especially lollies, that nobody
else likes, so you can be polite while still enjoying
your carried-in goodies by yourself. Strengthened
by his delicious chocolate-coated ginger lollies, we
scrambled up onto the high terrace on the true-left
to find a hardly existing track and later an abandoned tramping boot.
We stopped for lunch at the Otehake Hut for an
hour. If you’re ever in doubt what food to take
tramping, ask Jonno for his gourmet advice. He’s
discovered excellent muesli bars, twisted bread,
chocolate-jam spread from a bakery and other delights. The nice hut unfortunately isn’t visited often: The entries in the hut book start in 1991, and
the book isn’t even half-filled. Julian stayed a bit
longer at the hut looking for entries from people
coming the other way to get a better feeling of
how long it might take us to reach the hot pools.
He only found an entry from Steve Fortune, Joe
Jagusch, Emily Wall and Chris Forne who had - to
no-one’s surprise - greatly enjoyed their walk in.
TROG 2005
We started from the hut at 1:15 pm and knew it
would get dark around 6:30 pm. The distance to
the hot pools is only about 7 km. However, this
section is rated as hard and DoC time is 5 ½ hours.
So if you do the maths and take into account that
we didn’t go faster than DoC time, you know that
we had to use our torches a second time… At least
the rivers didn’t seem to be up and the bush track
was well-marked, although almost non-existent in
places (DoC: “not well maintained and not always
clearly defined”), let’s call it at least rough. Heaps
of slippery roots, up and down, some ferns, lots of
tree falls on the track, a bit of mud and everything
covered in wet moss. (DoC: “Much of the going
is slippery, moss-covered rocks and greasy root
systems. Care is constantly needed, particularly
where the ground falls away steeply towards the
river.”) Claudia proved the roughness of the track
by falling at least a couple metres headfirst down
a steep section. Luckily she was skilful enough not
to sustain any injury.
Since the walking speeds in the group over rough
terrain weren’t the same, Jonno suggested splitting the group up: Julian and Juliane were supposed to go ahead to look either for a good tent
area or for a good spot to cross the Otehake River.
While that didn’t quite work out in the end, at least
they saved the rest of the group a half hour search
for the start of the track at the other side of the
stream before Whaiti Stream. Julian followed his
intuition up a slip (which was right), but failed to
find a track marker. When taking a big step up
during our search further up the stream, his black
shorts tore wide open in the crotch - it’s advantageous to be wearing black boxers underneath. We
hauled ourselves and the packs up a slippery rock
on a rope to a track marker, just to discover that
it led to the previously mentioned slip. This we
climbed around, and Julian found the proper track
marker just in time to direct Jonno, Claudia and
Scott.
The map wasn’t quite right in some places which
confused the different groups in different ways.
When it got dark, Jonno, Claudia and Scott used
the following strategy several times: Jonno would
go ahead to look for the next track marker, Scott
would search in the middle and Claudia stayed at
the previous one to make sure they didn’t get lost.
Julian and Juliane had no problems crossing the
Otehake in the dark and got to the hot pools at 8
pm. In spite of worries that they might have gone
too far, Claudia, Jonno and Scott well-deservedly
made it to the hot pools at 9.30 pm - a belated
birthday present for Claudia (the alternative would
have been the three of them in a two person tent
on not necessarily even ground and everybody
else worried). We were happy to hear their joyful
shouting as they discovered Marks’s bright green
LED torch shining on the trees and the steam coming from the hot pools.
Jonno looking into the valley of the Otehake
West Branch.
Caspar, Nadine, Jörg, Sandra, Mark and Thor had
walked in the easy way, and they had dug out
very pleasant pools in which we indulged enjoying the company, warmth, food, laziness and a bit
of alcohol… We didn’t get to see much of Fernando, James, Thomas and Jakob at night, but they
walked out with us on the following day. It can
be learned from Juliane’s little going-to-bed adventure that it is advisable to visit the location of
the tent that someone else has carried in before
they go to bed (so you don’t wake up a peacefully
slumbering couple in a different tent thinking it
was yours). It is also best not to share a tent with
people who might have enjoyed too much alcohol
(so they don’t start throwing up as soon as you
arrive at the tent) - especially if they insist that
they’ve never done anything embarrassing when
drunk.
Sunday brought us great weather and a slow
start. We had some agreeable river crossings on
the route through the gorge. On the other side of
the saddle, the sun was trying to make its way into
the lush podocarp forest, and we saw two bright
blue mushrooms. After lunch and a beer at Lake
Kaurapataka [it wasn’t the social pressure not to
carry alcohol back out, I really felt like it], we split
into three groups where Pfeifer Creek meets the
Taramakau. Scott was in a hurry to get back to
Christchurch for a rehearsal. The group who went
straight through the marshy bit arrived first at the
car park, soon followed by the third group. The
other supposedly fast group with Scott came quite
a bit later - they had followed the track - and were
very surprised to have been overtaken by the
“slow” group. They didn’t find out until later that
the third group had a ride in a 4WD, even through
the Otira River. A really good tramp was traditionally concluded in the Bealey Pub, and Scott still
made it to his rehearsal, albeit unshowered.
35
Casey – Binser
by Duncan Edwards
be in the area. These are a close relative of the vicious Australian drop-bears who attack at night by
emitting a piercing screech and then dropping from
the trees onto the up-turned faces of their curious
prey, breaking their necks and causing them to
become dinner. The two victims were last seen at
the hut before disappearing into the early evening
never to be seen again. However, this failed to deter the South American section who promptly set
up a tripod water-bottle-holder / possum-trap and
camped outside.
March 27 - 28
After three days of incessant rain and chocolate
Easter bunny sacrifices, the sun came out and an
intrepid team of international explorers set off up
the Casey-Binser. The team comprised of an European section (represented by Austria, Germany,
Sweden and Switzerland), a South American section (Chile) and an Australasian section (Australia
and a token NZer).
The team headed steadily upstream with only a
slight mishap as the Swiss representative selflessly
distracted the resident wasps so the other teams
members could pass unharmed, while he only narrowly escaped mildly battle scarred. On the way,
one of the German representatives demonstrated the mythical-art of ‘crossing raging torrents
barefoot so as to keep one’s shoes dry’, however
this proved in vain as soon after they promptly
stepped into a mud-hole, christening their shoes
kiwi style. A concern enroute was the number of
other trampers (24 in total) also headed for the
hut (only 16 bunks). However fears proved unfounded as nine thought that one hour’s tramping
was enough for one day and camped on the side
of the track, whilst another two may have fallen
victim to the dreaded drop-possums rumoured to
After settling into the hut, the team split into two,
with one half exploring the upper reaches of the
river, whilst the other half guarded the hut against
drop-possums and the tenacious local ‘vampireionsandflyous’. Up-river the German representative
gave another demonstration of shoe-less river
crossing and then everyone scouted the area to
the north. Some of the Easter bunny’s cousins
were spotted, though thankfully the area was clear
of drop-possums. However, on the return several
members developed an allergic reaction to the cold
river water and one had to be carried across.
Back in the hut the usual cooking and talking went
on, along with some contortionist demonstrations
that became contagious. Also the absence of Easter eggs was noted (this was Easter Sunday after
all), though the Austrian reps had decided noodles were a better substitute, and bought several
tramping-pack-fulls to fend off the hunger pangs.
On the walk out, the advanced, highly technical,
‘pack-flipping’ method of putting a pack on your
back was demonstrated by several members of the
team. Although there were a few blisters and sore
knees, everyone made it back safely and headed
back to Christchurch ahead of the advancing bad
weather and rainbows.
The author accepts no responsibility for the accuracy nor truthfulness of this story.
All photos by Thomas Seifried.
36
TROG 2005
Purple Hill
by Alexis Pietak
May 11
Trampers: Ben Low, Christophe Leroquais,
Fred Bretton, Lucy Aldridge, Matthew Gibbons, Peta Taylor, Steven Rothuizen, Thor
Russel, Alexis Pietak.
The morning weather didn’t look very promising - drizzle, perhaps snow in the mountains - however arriving at the lake we were
in for a wee bit of a phenomenon - a light,
gracefully swooping low laying cloud that
made for a photographer’s dream had settled in the area. We walked along the edge
of the lake and started our ascent, straight
up the side for a grueling hour or so, lead
by a highly energetic Steven. The energy
fear as Peta, Lucy and I all hung back
with trepidation. Fortunately, the experienced scree slopers Ben and Steven were
reassuring, gracious and patient. Within
a few moments of the slowly rolling stone
layer underfoot, it was quite clear that
nothing but a lot of fun was to be had.
Reaching the end of the scree, we had a
prickly stumble down to the gently rolling part of the hill and eventually made it
back to the lake. To the great appreciation of all those donating their cars for
the event, many of us discovered and
delighted in covering ourselves in a load
of mud on the way back to the car park.
Then it was off to the pub for beer, nasty
food and good chatting to finish off an
excellent day.
expended in the climb was made well worth the
effort once we pierced through the clouds to see
what appeared to be mountains rising out of a sea
of mist. Near the end of the ascent we took our
time, stopping frequently to pant with burning legs
and enjoy the beauty infusion that was the view.
After the frustrated excitement of reaching a false
summit, we trudged onto the top and were well
rewarded by the magnificent views. After a bite to
eat, it was time to prepare for the scree slope. At
the summit, in the icy cold, Lucy managed to put
on her long underwear without taking her shorts
off. We were all amazed. We all donned gloves and
caps, tucked our pants into our boots and were
thus protected from the potentially marring gravel Summit view from Purple Hill (Top); Looking
of the slope that we were about to slide down.
down on Lake Pearson (Middle); From left to
right: Lucy, Thor, Alexis, Steven, Peta, ChristoNow - I won’t kid you - I’m afraid of heights and phe, Ben and Fred (Bottom). All photos by Matlooking over the edge of the slope was enough to thew Gibbons. These three photos were winmake my tummy squirm. I was not alone in my ners of the CUTC photo competition.
37
Freshers Report
by Lauren Bray
Hawdon Valley, March 12 - 13
Trampers: 63 various CUTC members.
Well the day of ‘Freshers’ dawned bright and
sunny, and as the first CUTC event/tramp of the
year, it was set to be a good initiation for the 60
or so young (or not so young), eager new additions to the tramping club for 2005. Upon making
it to the UCSA car-park, other seasoned trampers
like me (yeah right) noted all the shiny, ungrazed,
mud-free new pairs of boots earnestly brought in
anticipation of some ‘serious tramping’. Well I in
contrast was wearing my trusty old gym sneakers,
because I left my poor boots a little too long in
the sun and they had in a fashion melted. Lesson
1: No you wouldn’t think so but yes you can melt
your boots; beware.
Anyway, the Texas Party Bus arrived and one could
have been forgiven for thinking the pub crawl had
come a month or two early, as this was one amazingly painted bus. With the phrase ‘feel the passion’ on one side of the bus, hopefully no one got
too apprehensive… or mistakenly excited about
what they might be in for!
From the UCSA we traveled the well beaten path
to Arthur’s Pass. This was a pleasant but relatively
uneventful trip, generally spent getting to know
whomever one was sitting beside. After all, a key
function of Freshers is to make some tramping
buddies and it’s often the chance for the beginning
of some great friendships. Being a party bus driver, Wayne was probably understandably unaccustomed to driving across very little narrow bridges
over the Waimakariri in a big bus, but he did it!
This was despite a hint of trepidation observed by
those sitting nearer the front of the bus.
We abandoned the bus at the base of the Hawdon Valley and began a slow meander up the river
bed. The river frequently turned and flowed over
our path, so there was a lot of tame river crossing
to keep our feet wet! We arrived at our destination, the hut, around mid-afternoon. Then everyone was given the choice of either removing their
wet boots and lounging in the sun or climbing the
big hill that towered close by. Apparently the view
from the top was lovely but I wouldn’t know, I
chose not to exert myself anymore and took the
‘lounging’ option.
Those of us who stayed behind began to set up
tents and sat and conversed about the beauty of
the nature around us and other stuff. Everyone
38
TROG 2005
started off sitting fairly near the hut but the sun
kept on escaping from under us, so we moved
several times before it disappeared for good and
accordingly it got a bit nippy. After this, it wasn’t
long before we made Sylvia and Amber (with the
help of the odd one or two other stray committee members) go and start cooking our dinner.
Cooking for 60 in a mountain hut without power
is not an enviable task, but our extremely competent captains were up to it. On a few gas cookers,
they concocted about three separate batches of a
hearty meal of pasta with kidney beans, topped
with spring onion and grated cheese.
The rest of the evening was spent by candlelight,
talking and playing the odd card game before everyone retired to either their tent, or their bunk in
the hut. Needless to say, the hut was a lot warmer
than the average tent outside, and those who decided to “sleep under the stars” apparently found
it somewhat damp and a bit brisk!
The next day everyone ate their various breakfast
choices brought from home and then we packed
up and started walking out. We met the bus at the
base of the valley, the same place where we were
originally dispatched.
The next delight in store for us was the river crossing course! Amongst the group of us were a selection of expert river crossers, led by Dave Bones,
who were to teach us the ‘art’ of safely crossing a
river. As it turned out the pre-selected spot of the
river where we were to practice crossing, had become ‘not deep enough’ and ‘not swift enough’, that
is basically not hazardous enough. So our instructors scaled the river in search of a section treacherous enough and finally they were satisfied.
Next we formed several small groups and each
group was assigned a river crossing instructor. We
had a short theory session before stepping into the
river, during this session we learnt how to visually
assess a river, to determine whether it’s safe to
cross or not. Then we got to link arms and we proceeded to cross the river several times. Lastly in
case everyone hadn’t got wet enough and to make
sure we all got our hair wet, we were required to
practice floating with our packs on. This was to
ensure we learnt the correct technique for floating,
should we ever find ourselves being swept along in
a river unable to gain footing.
Back at the bus, as newly initiated capable river
crossers we dried out and celebrated with a BBQ.
Although we were a little alarmed at first, as the
bus driver appeared to have disappeared, however rumours that he had headed for the pub were
quickly dispelled, he was only reviving himself on
coffee. Upon his return we boarded the bus and
headed back to Christchurch, it was the end of a
wicked weekend.
39
Snowcraft I
– A White World of Fun
by Steven Rothuizen
crampons are a great invention if you know how to
properly tie them to your feet.
Broken River, Hamilton Peak, July 23 - 24
Finally it was weekend again: time for snowcraft.
A lot of people had been talking about it for ages,
convincing me that this was an event not to miss.
Since I’m usually easily convinced I went along.
Saturday (early) morning, a beautiful sky, about
25 people, a lot of gear, two mini vans, a trailer
and some cars. That’s about the best situation
sketch I can give you at this moment. The sky and
the Saturday morning stayed where they were
- the rest started their journey towards Broken
River skifield. The overnight gear was dropped at
a luxurious motel and we almost drove all the way
up to the skifield. Since a tramping club trip is not
a tramping club trip without some pointless walking, we walked the last remaining strip of gravel.
And then finally we, the unknowing tourists from
the cities of Europe, could dance around in the
white fluffy stuff that’s also known as snow! And of
course that’s what we did for most of the day.
Making steps, making more steps using your axe,
making steps using your boots, making steps in
many other ways, moving over snow without making steps, and of course sliding down the slope
in many different positions. Any attempt to slow
down and end up face down with your head pointing uphill and your feet pointing towards the sky
was futile. Instead some (if not many) people ended up in strange positions at the bottom of the
slope with snow literally everywhere. This might
sound a bit dramatic, but I can say that most second attempts were much more succesful.
Amazing how well some lasagne, apple pie with
icecream and a few beer taste in the evening when
your skins hurts from all the snow contact and
your legs are in pain from all the step kicking. On
the other hand I think these meals would have
tasted terrific under any circumstances. Most of
the evening was then filled with a great variety of
card games, some newly invented, some very well
known, and a great presentation by Steve with
awesome pictures. Everyone hoped for at least
such awesome scenery the next day.
Since basic snowcraft is a quickly learned skill, but
never perfect unless practiced a lot, we went out
for a little trip on Sunday. Apart from some snoring people and a fire alarm that ran out of batteries the night hadn’t been too bad. The plan was
to do a little bit of a walk somewhere along the
Craigieburn range (since we were there anyway):
from Broken River parking up to the saddle then to
the left up Mt. Hamilton and then down over Broken River skifield. So that’s what we did. We spent
most of the trip enjoying the sunshine, although
the instructors never ran out of stories (of course)
the wind blew most of them away and there was
plenty of opportunity to enjoy the scenery.
After almost being blown off the top we choose
the most challenging route down: either as steep
as possible or as slideable as possible. And spent
some time playing around in the snow with as
most mentionable result that it took us quite a lot
of time to discover that playing cricket with balls of
snow is not very useful, but still fun. Before I knew
it Steve was dug up from under a pile of snow and
we continued our way back to the minivans.
A great weekend is always over before you know
it and so is this story. Enjoy the summer and the
tramping: I know I did! Both photos by Steven.
The afternoon was spent walking up some snow
covered slopes while listening to all the great stories of our instructors. How we wished they would
stop talking and just slow down a bit! But in the
end the view was worth having to listen to all the
dramatic stories which back home they would have
taken with a little bit of salt. All I knew was that
40
TROG 2005
Snowcraft II
by Charlene Sell
Broken River, Temple Basin, July 30 -31
Snowcraft II began in the USCA carpark at 7.30am
- a sure sign Dave wasn’t going to be making this
easy for us. We were issued with the gear we would
need - a helmet, crampons, an ice axe and a transceiver. Important tip: Ice axes and crampons have
sharp metal pointy bits, thus care should be taken
when using them around other people (though of
course “accidents” can happen).
We drove to the Craigieburn range, where we
split into small groups each led by an instructor
and assistant. We then trudged up a mountain in
order to find one of the essential ingredients for
snowcraft - snow. This was where the serious stuff
began - building snowmen, it appeared, was not
something that was on the agenda. Instead, the
day was spent learning some of the basic skills we
would need for tramping in the snow. This included
choosing a safe route, identifying avalanche risks
and instruction on how to hold and use an ice axe.
Fitting our crampons was a bit of a mission, and
once on we had to learn how to walk so as not to
stab ourselves in the leg with them - a big ask, but
as far as I know there were no crampon-related
injuries on our trip!
By now it was onto the really fun part of the day
- trying out every conceivable situation where
we might need to self-arrest. This involved sliding forwards, backwards, upside down, sideways
and various other combinations of the above. Not
surprisingly, our jackets were filled with snow by
the end of all this. Next we had a go at glissading (a.k.a. bum-sliding) - a fast and fun way to
get down a mountain, provided there are no giant
rocks to smack into along the way.
On the way down, we found that Dave’s group
had built a rather impressive snow cave, but fortunately for us, our instructors weren’t so cruel
as to make us spend the night in it (though we
were reliably informed it would be quite cosy). At
Day 2, Temple Basin, snowing, the highest
we got to, rest period.
Day 1, Broken River, nice snow, steep rock
face (did not climb that). Both photos by Hazel Reynolds.
the end of the day we headed to the Craigieburn
Environmental Education Centre where we were
staying that night, and were greeted by a warm
fire and a yummy three-course meal.
Having stuffed ourselves till we could barely move,
we rolled off to bed, but were jolted awake early
the next morning thanks to a talented musical display involving a pot and a spoon (brilliant Julian,
but probably best to stick to engineering). After
breakfast, we headed to the Temple Basin skifield in Arthur’s Pass to put into action some of the
skills we had learnt the day before. Once there,
we formed two groups - an easy group (for slackers such as myself) and a moderate/hard group
which were planning to climb Mount Cassidy. Our
group headed up towards the ridgeline, which allowed us to get in some climbing practice using
crampons and an ice axe, again attempting not to
stab ourselves or anyone else with them. As the
snow that had begun to fall became heavier, we
decided to head to the ski cabin for lunch and to
dry out a bit. Having eventually convinced us that
we couldn’t stand around the fire forever, Dave
led us back down to meet the other group, before
heading home.
Snowcraft was a huge learning experience, but
heaps of fun at the same time. Thanks for that
has to go to the instructors, assistants, cooks and
everyone else who helped out over the weekend.
Also, a big, big thanks to Dave for organising
Snowcraft I and II this year, I know it takes up
a lot of your time which we really appreciate. Finally, for anyone who could not make it this year,
I would very much recommend coming along next
year, since knowing some basic snowcraft skills really opens up your options for tramping during the
winter months.
41
Snowcraft II
by Hazel Reynolds
Broken River, Temple Basin, July 30 - 31
Early Saturday morning I piled into one of two
vans with about 25 other members of the Tramping Club and we headed to the mountains on the
second offering of Basic Snowcraft (II). At the Broken River Skifield parking lot, we split into small
groups of six with one or two instructors to each
group. After testing the avalanche transceivers,
we headed up the steep slope to the snowfields. It
was a nice sunny day with minimal wind. As this is
a late winter due to a late summer, the snow had
melted back quite a bit so we climbed close to the
ridge.
We were introduced to the multiple helpful uses of
the ice axe, while wearing a helmet. After we had
discussed alpine safety concerns, acquired self-arresting skills and walked on slopes with tramping
boots, we donned crampons and practiced crossing and climbing steeper slopes. When we were
practicing the crampon techniques my group
found themselves nearly halfway up the slope to
the ridge. We decided to go all the way up even
though we left our packs near the other groups at
the bottom of the ridge. Only Anne-Cecile brought
her camera up the ridge. It was about 3 pm and
we had a view to the south and might have seen
Mt. Cook cloaked in clouds. There was also a front
of clouds coming from the west.
We spent the night at the Environmental Education
Centre in the Craigieburn Forest Park. We had a
wonderful and long tea prepared, and David Bones
gave a PowerPoint slide show about avalanches.
Lunch break on Snowcraft I. Photo by Steven
Rothuizen.
42
Day 1, Broken River, instruction. Photo by
Hazel.
Sunday morning began with breakfast and a hectic packing and cleaning of the Centre including a
misplacement of the van keys. Once everything
was cleaned, turned off, and packed, we headed
off to Arthur’s Pass. We checked our transceivers
again in the Temple Basin parking lot and went up
a cloud-enveloped trail likely caused by last night’s
front. It began to snow once we were up to the
ski hut and put on our crampons. As yesterday’s
avalanche-meter was low, today’s was moderate.
We broke into two groups and I joined with the
Easy group. It was a steep slog up. The wet snow
fell with the help of some stronger gusts of wind
and visibility was low. The Easy group went up to
a point on the slope with a steep rock outcrop, allowing for some shelter. We had a bite to eat without much of a view. A few people dug a snow pit
to look at the snow for avalanche evaluation. They
said there was truth in the “moderate” rating. We
decided to head down for safety and lack of a view
to the ski hut at the base of the ski lift. The hut
had a nice fire in the woodstove for lunch. It took
quite a while to get there as my glasses fogged
up, snow collected on them, and everything was
white. I slipped once and used my newly acquired
self-arresting skills to stop. The snow was so wet
that it balled up under our crampons and every five
steps we knocked it off with the ice axe. We went
back to the carpark. My van went to the Bealey
Hotel bar for a beer and warmed up a bit before
we headed back to Christchurch, rolling into town
after a day and a half. Thanks to all for a wonderful learning and snow-tramping experience.
TROG 2005
Things That Go Crunch in the Night
– A Report of the Intermediate Snowcraft Course
by Rowan Sinton
brought everyone up to speed on the knots we
would be using during the weekend, and talked us
through the slightly manky forecast for the weekend - strong northerlies turning to gale southerlies… I’m glad we brought coal for the fire!
Temple Basin, September 16 - 18
If knowledge could freeze, we would have been
buried in an avalanche of it on the Intermediate
Snowcraft course. “Cold learning” is probably the
best way to describe fumbling with frozen prussik
cord using numb fingers in a howling southerly,
but it was good learning none-the-less.
This annual event kicked off at the weekly Wednesday meeting on September the 14th, with a classroom session watching videos and discussing
theory. The MSC (New Zealand Mountain Safety
Council) video contained hilarious 80’s people,
clothing and music, but also a lot of good information about snow anchors, crevasse rescue, prussiking, and other rope-related techniques. We took
as much of this on board as we could in the hour
or so we had, and asked questions of our instructors Steve and Mark.
Two days later we were on the road to Arthur’s Pass
to stay Friday night in the Alpine Club lodge. Mark
Early Saturday morning we woke up, fell out of
bed, dragged combs across our heads and drove
up to the Temple Basin car park. There we were
joined by more snow-crafters who came straight
up from Christchurch and had seemingly missed
the “wake up” bit of The Beatles’ song. The third
instructor, Dan Webb, also arrived, but missed the
“comb” bit. After a surprisingly tiring walk up to
the Temple Basin ski lodges (am I that unfit, or
is it the mounds of rope, stakes, ‘biners and coal
weighing down my pack?), we strapped on the avalanche transceivers and headed up to the ghostinfested Pages Shelter.
The rest of the day was spent on the slopes of Mt.
Temple learning about snow anchors. Unfavorably
soft snow meant snow stakes were useless vertically, and dodgy at best in a ‘T’ position. Snow pigs
were not much better, hitting a hard layer in the
snow and shimmying down the slope. The soup
of the day seemed to be burying stuff deep and
equalizing at least two pieces.
After the sun, dinner, and sleeping bags had descended to their rightful positions, Mark read everyone a ghost story. Numerous reports from as
far back as the 70’s described footsteps crunching
through snow, right up to the shelter’s door, and
stopping dead. Brave souls even waited outside in
the dark with headlamp switches poised until the
footsteps were right beside them - only to turn
them on and see nothing. Trying not to listen to
tiny crunching sounds outside in the near silent
night, I eventually got to sleep.
43
was made to continue practicing assisted hoists
back in the shelter (where we would actually be
able move our fingers). Not before “Markie” managed to knock a whole cornice on to club captain
Amber’s head.
We left the haunted Pages Shelter late afternoon
to an even scarier idea - who would be running
our country when we returned to civilization? We
stopped briefly at Springfield Hotel on the way
home for greasy food and a mostly blue political
map of the South Island (not blue enough!), and
said our final goodbyes and thankyous.
I was pleasantly surprised to see the light of morning without having to endure a “Blair Witch” style
epic overnight (being the closest to the door I was
sure I would be dragged into the night first). There
were no pleasantries about the weather though, as
the predicted Southerly had hit with a vengeance.
All of the climbing gear was racked and clipped
to our harnesses - the more you
have, the more totally sweet you
look - and we stepped boldly into
the wind.
Speaking of thankyous, Dave Bones did a fantastic job organizing the whole course, and instructors Steve Fortune, Mark Hooker and Dan Webb
put a huge effort into sharing their experience and
knowledge about life in the mountains. Thanks
again!
All photos by Andreas Baumgärtner.
Today was the crevasse rescue
day, but to avoid jumping in actual
crevasses, we took a 20 minute
walk to a large snow scoop. The
idea was that you and your partner would rope up, glacier-travel
style, and then one person would
hurl themselves over the edge of
the snow scoop. The not-about-todie member of the rope team then
sets up an anchor and either waits
for their partner to prussik up, or
hauls their sorry arse out of the
crevasse.
After much groveling in the snow
and being lashed by Mister Angry
Southerly, the unanimous decision
44
TROG 2005
Avalanche Peak
by Andreas Baumgärtner
August 14
Trampers: Andreas Baumgärtner, Steven Rothuizen, Steve Holden.
The middle of winter. Somewhere in the Southern
Hemisphere. Instead of going back home and lying
on the beach, three adventurers from the Northern
Hemisphere go on a mission to climb Avalanche
Peak. Steven (Netherlands), Steve (USA) and Andreas (Germany) face enormous tasks, Doerte
(Germany) doesn’t. She does appear in the car
park at 7.30am - just to let us know that she’s
exhausted from all her studies. The mutual agreement is not to make her go, because they are all
nice people.
All the gear including helmets, crampons and ice
axes in the back of the car they leave the UCSA car
park shortly afterwards. KC6060, Andreas’ 25 year
old Honda civic, manages to get past Yaldhurst and
then it dies. Thanks to the owner’s expertise and
some CRC (drives moisture out), the car (although
Steven has his doubts as to the validity of this term
for the piece of shit he’s sitting in) runs again.
Only this time an unbearable smell penetrates into
the interior of the car(?). Outside the three heroes pass a brightly flashing sign “Arthur’s Pass:
heavy snowfall, chains required”. Oops, of course
KC doesn’t possess chains. After a few more involuntary stops and more deadly gases they reach
Porter’s Pass. A friendly kea agrees to have lots of
pictures taken by Steven. Steven also realizes that
the engine is steaming like mad - the source of the
horrible odour. Andreas had sprayed some CRC not
only on the spark plugs where it should go but also
on the cylinders, oh bugger (I’m sorry Steven, but
we didn’t die, did we?).
to conquer Avalanche Peak. Andreas is organized
enough to check his bag for all the necessary items
- and realizes that he was not organized enough
to put his lunch from the kitchen bench into his
bag. Thankfully the Café in Arthur’s Pass has some
delicious lamb sandwiches on offer. At this point, if
you paid attention, you should be wondering: Why
is there no word about the snow? Well, the sign
outside Christchurch appears to have been a slight
exaggeration: not a single snowflake in sight…
On foot through the forest above the village, the
three adventurers do encounter the snow line very
soon though. Very pretty, very cold, very good
views, all very nice until they get to the bushline.
There are the 3 guys that left 30 minutes before
them, and our three heroes soon figure out why:
the snow is waist deep in places and has fallen
over the last 24 hours. With every step you sink
into the depths of the mountain. The two parties
reach an agreement (unfortunately not signed,
stamped and sealed) to share the task of making
steps and finding a path. Turns out that the others
are lazy bastards after all and always stay behind
our three mountaineers. The wind up there is rather chilly, ice is flying around and the water in Andreas’ camelback has frozen solid a long time ago.
However, challenging the forces of nature they finally reach the top. The only fluid that is not frozen
yet is Steven’s Jaegermeister. Sacrifices one has to
make when going on such challenging missions,
hard to imagine for anyone who stayed in bed till
1pm on that very day (Doerte, are you reading?).
The way back on Scott’s Track is hard work as well,
but they manage to get back with no injuries apart
from a few bruises.
The car breaks down again just outside the Bealey
Pub (as if they would have needed an excuse to
have a beer). After a few beers, wedges and a chat
with the man behind the bar they’re off again and
reach Christchurch after another few breakdowns
of KC. Thanks guys, was a great adventure!
Both photos supplied by Andreas.
At some 30 km/h they reach Arthur’s Pass and encounter another group of three (in their 30s) well
equipped (packs for 3 weeks) trampers who want
45
Avalanche Peak, Mt Aicken
by Darryn Welham
July 16 - 17
Trampers: Darryn Welham,
Finny, Zita Lin.
After doing the Avalanche
Peak Challenge Race a couple of times and noticing
the beautiful new Crow Hut,
I decided to store it up for
a cruisey weekend away in
the mountains.
After a big slog of study for the last few weeks I
was due for a break. And to counter the Friday
night drinks’ Saturday effect I needed a late start.
So to the Crow Hut via Avalanche Peak it was. It
only took three hours to run, so with a full pack
should reach the hut in four hours? Well I rounded
up a half dozen interested punters, and lost a few
of them due to what may have been construed to
be a blasé attitude to the trip in terms of time and
avalanches on my behalf.
So, late (10am is late for a tramper) Finny, Zita
and I left Chch for Arthur’s Pass. DoC informed
us that avalanche danger was low to moderate and we had our transceivers. The weather forecast
was mainly sunny, so even though the mountain
was covered in cloud we set off. “Mainly sunny”
turned out to be true for Mt Rolleston and Mt Bealey but not Avalanche Peak. We stomped up surprisingly deep snow, considering the warm winter.
We saw a couple of other parties heading down
Scotts Track… What were they up to? Surely they
were one of the many parties who left intentions
at Arthur’s Pass DoC saying they were going to
the Crow Hut? Were there avalanches on the scree
slope down to the Crow? Or were they just scared
of the cloud?
46
Well, we got within 50m of the top and it turned
out that being in the cloud and not being able to
see anything was quite inconvenient. It was getting late and the progress was slowing. We decided
to avoid playing in the snow in the cloud and night
by beating a hasty retreat back the way we came.
As we returned to the car we decided to not head
back to the city life yet. We stayed the night at the
Bealey Hut, thinking the forecast snow for Sunday
would arrive in the morning and we could go home
satisfied we were avoiding cold and runny noses.
Unfortunately this plan also failed, with beautiful
clear sunny skies on Sunday morning when we
awoke. Well bugger it, we will just have to climb
a hill. We headed up Mt Aickens to get a view of
where we were yesterday. With negligible snow on
Aickens we avoided carrying the excessive snow
gear of the day before, a superb view, and got
some nice tans.
All in all it was a reenergising break from the city
which really worked my leg muscles.
View going up Avalanche Peak. Both photos
supplied by Andreas Baumgärtner.
TROG 2005
Avoca Hut Mission One
by Darryn Welham
September 2 - 4
This Mission was attempted earlier but failed to
leave Chch due to inclement weather. No really,
the forecast was a stinker- it is no fun putting up
spouting when there is water pouring down it!
The mission was to check out the hut, see what
DoC had been complaining about, and start fixing
it up. We planned to finally fix the window in the
door (Jonno Hill and co. tried to do this in 2004 but
arrived at the hut without the replacement Perspex), replace a side of spouting/gutter, and do a
general tidy up / see what else needed doing.
The team consisted of Joe Jagusch, Yu-An Chen,
Steven Rothuzien, Oliver Burns, and myself. Not
entirely great weather was forecast but the key,
the middle day, was fine-ish, suitable for repairing. So the team piled into Joe’s wagon; that is,
once it arrived, 40min late (he gave some poor
excuse like he was busy talking to a girl…). We set
off from Klondyke Corner, across the dry Waimakariri, and headed up Jordan Stream.
Joe cleaning out the trap after it had been in
use for only two minutes. Notice the flying
possum in the top right of the picture.
Jordan Stream seemed a bit more rugged than
when I last travelled it in 2003, more landslides,
and bigger rocks. We picked an inappropriate exit
point from the creek bed. This resulted in Joe,
Steven, and Oliver scrambling up a steep (think
70deg plus) spur of rotten rock with a fall out zone
of a rocky creek bed 50m below them. I decided to
pick a safer option (and talked Yu-an into following me), when a rock as big as a sack of potatoes
I was holding on to came loose and threatened to
wipe out my legs and those below me. This “safer”
option involved climbing up the steeper but vegetated slope nearby. This brought us almost to the
saddle and also the wind. This combined with the
periods of rain did not make for an environment
conducive to stopping and enjoying the view.
Joe with part of the most elaborate possum
trap ever built, now protecting Avoca Hut.
We quickly crossed the saddle and headed down
one of the tributaries of Galilee creek. This was the
tributary that appeared most accessible and least
cliff like. This turned out to be a fun mix of steep,
slippery tussock, and a mud/water slide. The less
47
help out with fixing
it - slackers. However I understand
they had a fun
trip, and they were
very useful by giving the three from
our party a lift back
to town from Lake
Coleridge.
experienced members of the group were now
showing significant shortage of sure footedness.
And going was considerably slow. Fortunately, to
brighten things up, Joe took a slide with the gutter for several meters (unintentionally). This drew
blood from his thumb, so we weren’t supposed to
laugh too hard... :-)
The following day
Joe and I raced back
over Jordan Saddle, getting very
wet in the rain and
the swollen creeks,
and stopping little to avoid getting
cold and the creeks
getting up further
(the Waimak was
now flowing above
ground). This took
an exhausting but
boulder
hopping
fun 5hrs (cf. 9hrs on the way in). Then it was back
to Chch to organise the next trip and let DoC know
that we had finally started fixing the hut.
All photos supplied by Darryn.
By this time the combination of slow pace and
late start had us predicting some walking in the
dark. And the waiting in the cold rain was causing
a strong desire to speed things up. This motivated
Joe to take Yu-An’s pack on his front for the rest of
the way down to the Avoca river. This evened out
the pace a lot. Eventually (a couple of hours after
sunset) we arrived at the hut and had a cook up
to warm up.
The next day didn’t bring any sunshine but it was
dry-ish, so we set about fixing up old spouting,
installing new spouting and a new window in the
door, as well as digging out the debris from the
side of the hut.
It was also decided that the slower two would be
accompanied by Steven out to Basins Hut that afternoon, and then out to Lake Coleridge the following day. This would be an easier (but longer)
walk than going back over the saddle. Joe and I
finished off tidying up the hut and listed what we
would need to bring in next time.
Then the mountain bikers turned up (Jo Schaab,
Helen Ecroyd, Phil Barclay, Steve Pawson, and
Ben Low - see next page). These guys decided to
come in and visit us and the hut, but not actually
48
Note: the characters in this cartoon are in
no way meant to represent Darryn and Joe.
TROG 2005
Avoca Hut Mission One
by Jo Schaab
September 3 - 4
49
Avoca Hut Mission Two
by Darryn Welham
October 7 - 8
Bikers: James Maunder, Volker Nock, Darryn Welham.
This is Avoca Valley. Sadly, our three brave
bikers were hindered by a snowstorm, and
failed to reach it. This picture is an artist’s
impression of what the valley might look like
(the artist thinks he might be Stew Hardie).
Photo is of me on the way up the Harper River on
the weekend before it really started snowing (by
Volker).
We had planned to ride in a little rain, and if it
turned out to be too much rain we wouldn’t be
able to get in. Then the forecast for Sunday was
fine so we could sand and paint the Avoca hut,
then ride out with river levels lower than Saturday.
Unfortunately the weather forecast deteriorated
and turned out to be accurate with the snow forecast. This covered the track, obscured the view of
the sides of the valley, and generally made things
very cold and slow. After freezing for an hour we
revised the plan to stay at Basins hut the night
and duck up to the Avoca and do some work on
(fine?) Sunday morning. With travel slowing as
we tried to pick smoother ground or track through
the snow, and frequent river braids to be crossed,
things were progressing slowly and grimly.
This is the condition of the CUTC’s very
own Avoca Hut before Avoca Hut Mission
One (see previous page). The pictures were
taken for DoC documentation.
Almost two hours had passed and we were not
yet halfway to Basins hut when we hit upon the
realisation that we were probably screwed if the
weather improved or stayed the same. Snow and
rain would not allow us to paint and sand - our
objective. Fine weather would melt the considerable amount of snow, causing the rivers to rise
and crossings with bikes to be somewhat touch
and swim.... So we beat a hasty retreat before the
snow melted, our feet got frostbite, and hypothermia made us think we were having a bad time.
50
TROG 2005
Avoca Hut Mission Three
by Julian Maclaren
October 15 - 16
Team: Mike Carrigan, Julian Maclaren, Joe Jagusch,
Darryn Welham, Clare Leach, Arnaud Fischer.
[Darryn]: After an unsuccessful attempt at getting in to do some painting the previous weekend,
this weekend was looking better. The team of three
mountain bikes, a 4WD and a pair of running shoes
made it into the hut with plenty of painting tools,
including a ladder! The weather turned out to be
brilliant on Sunday so we got a bit of painting done.
I will pass you over to Julian to tell the story…
[Julian]: This is really the story of Thumper, a dirty
old Isuzu Bighorn. His handler’s name is Mike, who
is just as dirty and presumably even older. Mike
had an ulterior motive for his part in this trip. You
see, he was hoping that this would be Thumper’s
last great mission and that he’d be able to send him
off in style. The idea was to upset the club’s many
environmentally-conscious Germans by ditching
him somewhere in the upper Avoca Valley. Sadly,
this never eventuated. Next time, maybe?
Darryn, Joe and Clare, slightly wary of Thumper
for some reason, decided that mountain biking
was the way to go. Julian didn’t bring a mountain
bike so opted for the tried and tested method of
using his feet instead of wheels (stupid new invention). This left Arnaud and Mike enjoying the
‘luxury’ of motorised transport alone.
So we all set off: Mike and Arnaud bounced around
wildly in the cab; Julian struggled along in Thumper’s filthy black diesel fumes; Joe, with his $2000
mountain bike, made things seem easy; and Clare
put in an impressive effort with her solid lump of
steel and a broken pedal.
Arnaud, a Frenchman fresh from France, seemed
very reluctant to put his shoes anywhere near cold
water. So Thumper decided he’d play a simple but
effective two-step trick: (a) parking and tricking
Arnaud into getting out, then (b) driving off quickly through a stream leaving him no choice but to
follow. Arnaud took this pretty well, although still
kept his shoes dry by removing them before crossing. Apparently “water is bad for shoes”. Does it
never rain in Europe or something?
So we all got there eventually. Thumper made it
to within 15 minutes of the hut. We cooked food,
drank wine and discussed plans for the huge stash
of alcohol. The next day we even did a tiny bit of
painting to justify the trip.
The journey out was faster, probably due to the
advantage of going downhill. However, things
were just as interesting as they were the previous day. Thumper got stuck twice, probably because Mike was getting more and more desperate
to break something. Darryn parked his bike (and
himself) on its side in the river demonstrating why
he is CUTC president rather than president of the
mountain biking club.
Julian, depressed at the sight of a long smooth
stretch of road clearly favouring wheels over legs,
jumped onto the back of Thumper. But Thumper
doesn’t like to be ridden. He took off at speed,
bouncing his way past the mountain bikers. Then,
with a loud trademark thump, he was airborne,
sent straight up after hitting a rock. Julian was
flicked off the back and face-planted into the
ground. Thumper wins again.
Photos supplied by Julian Maclaren.
51
Avoca Hut Mission Four
by Camilla Knorr
waterfall”, “inaccessible gorge” etc. I got a little suspicious when Julian told me the route could
be similar to the Cirque de la Solitude in the GR
20 in Corsica - but without rope. Well, I thought,
I’d better use the easy way up to the hut, these
guys seem extreme - which is what lots of other people told me. Fortunately I could motivate
Andy - another German sandfly bait - and Sven
- my sick/awesome/handsome (he forced me to
describe him like this!) Aussie flatmate - to join
me on the easy route. Thursday night we headed
off to Arthur’s Pass and camped at the Klondyke
Shelter.
Camilla enjoying her first ever Kiwi river crossing. All photos by Andreas Baumgärtner.
Friday morning the four “tough guys” went up the
Waimak, up Greenlaw Creek, over Avoca Col and
down to Moraine Flat and Avoca Hut. Don’t ask
November 11 -13
Trampers: Camilla Knorr, Julian Maclaren, Dave
Bones, Phil Bones, Caspar (not the Ghost), Andreas Baumgärtner, Sven Howorth.
I had just arrived in New Zealand from Germany
when I was invited to join Julian, Caspar, Dave and
Phil on a three-day trip to the Avoca Hut using a
“special” route. The plan was to paint the hut, and
I thought that might be fun. Julian told me it might
end up being a “longish” day (up to 16 hours). I
was still convinced when he showed me a handwritten slip of paper that showed the way.
The “map” was made by a guy who used the intended route about twenty years ago and it had
heaps of funny comments such as “impassable
Cut-throat gaming in the Avoca Hut. From
left: Camilla, Sven, Dave and Julian.
52
This outside barbeque helped the CUTC’s Avoca Hut earn its 5-star rating.
me what that was like, ‘cause me and my lazy
companions chose the laid back route up the Little
Jordan Stream to Jordan Saddle, and down Galilee
Creek to the Avoca River and the hut. All I know
is that Andy, Sven and I had a very funny time
with heaps of fun games and breaks, a 2 ½ hour
sunny lunch break in the Jordan Saddle - highly
recommended - and that when we arrived at the
hut, after about 10 hours, the others were already
waiting for us and their dinner.
Saturday we wanted to paint the hut, which turned
out to be quite difficult in this bloody heavy rain.
At least we tried. We spent the rest of the day
playing cards, fixing an old wood oven that Caspar
had found in the forest in front of the hut, burning Gore Jackets on the chimney (well, at least
me! Also highly recommended by the way: I got
it fixed at Macpac, now it’s even better than be-
TROG 2005
Examination of Avoca Col. From left: Camilla,
Dave, Sven, Caspar, Phil and Julian.
fore!), organising races from the river-bed up to
the hut experiencing the advantages and disadvantages of using boots, jandals or running barefoot, dying the Avoca in red colour with the paint
of the brushes, discussing whether some chicks
in the “Women’s Weekly” were too skinny or not
(well, this time not me! I rather listened to the
guys’ opinions than interfering much in this topic)
and fixing one of the pin up girls that seemed to
be after everybody’s fancy on the hut’s door. She
should be enough motivation for you to climb up
to the hut, have a look at her and paint the hut
again, cause part of our nice painting was washed
away by the heavy rain.
Sunday we went all together through Jordan Saddle and down Bealey Spur to Bealey Spur Hut. Nasty Sven tried to destroy the mountains by pushing
as many rocks as possible down the slopes while
he was loudly screaming. No worries: Nature is
stronger than manhood (even the Australian one),
so some ridges are still standing for you.
Finally fulfilling the purpose of this trip!
After a few snow flakes in the saddle and bush
bashing down from the Bealey Spur Hut we finished this great weekend with a couple of beers in
the again highly recommended Bealey Hotel.
Camilla with one of the best reasons to visit
the Avoca Hut.
53
Follow the White Rabbit
– Or, Deranged Ramblings in the Cold
by B. Bunny
The tracks are followed along the ridge for a couple
of hours, as we take in the views, avalanche debris
and frozen tarns. Some of us are new to crampons
and practice cartwheels (or was it swan dives?)
down the hill as we head towards a change in the
ridge. Here the ‘track’ disappears about the same
time a bluff appears and there is some searching
for a way down. The snow is a little dodgy (tiny
slabs slip off over bluffs in places) and we take
care getting down to our lunch spot. It seems that
rabbits are immune to bluffs as tracks are again
seen at the bottom.
Lewis Tops, June
Trampers: Jakob, Daniel, Fernando, Chang, Duncan. Route: Along Lewis Tops to Brass Monkey
Bivvy and then down via Rough Creek.
Here we have out first taste of a change in the
weather as a wind begins to pick up (and the
sense of security begins to drop down). Although
this makes for a short lunch break, at least it
helps keep the beer cold. Then it’s uphill for a bit,
working around to a windy ridge. Here one of the
group decides to sacrifice some headgear to the
wind in an attempt to slow it down a little. Needless to say, the sacrifice went unnoticed and the
Something stirred my sleep, a loud irritating
screech, an alarm going off in the middle of the
night. Roll out of bed, onto the floor. Crawl into
some warm clothes, it’s cold (as it is in winter) and
dark (as it is before sunrise). Just enough time
for a quick brew of coffee before there’s a knock
at the door and the others arrive (well some of
them). The car is packed and we’re off into the
night towards Lewis Pass.
As it’s quiet on the road this time of night, the
driver makes haste (imagine a luge, in the dark,
with coffee). Somehow we arrive safely at the pass
along with the first light of dawn, there is a final
few metres of 4WDing and then we pile out for an
obligatory group photo. Next comes a bit of shock
as stiff limbs are pitted against the near vertical
track (this may be an ever so slight exaggeration).
Although we shortly arrive at the tree line for a
breather, our first views of the snow as well as the
tail end of some bad weather heading off to hassle the North Island. It looks like we found a nice
weather window, as there are clear skies to the
south, though this may be a false sense of security
as other things lie in store for us.
More photos and a snack rejuvenate us enough to
head onto the snow proper, fitting crampons and
beginning to stroll along the ridge. This is where
we first see signs, footprints, of the white rabbit,
heading off across the snow in the same direction
as we are. You have to admire an animal that lives
in the snow (or seriously doubt its intelligence).
54
wind became stronger on the ridge, reaching a
crescendo as it funnelled its way from one valley
through a gap in the ridge to another valley. The
flying snow, ice and other miscellaneous pieces of
shrapnel made for unpleasant walking and so we
bailed into the lee of the ridge, traversing our way
around to the aptly named Brass Monkey bivvy.
Such a relief to see the orange shelter with its frozen store of water. We catch up to the rabbit here,
though it soon makes a getaway showing a clean
pair of heels. The wind crept into here as well and
it was a welcome relief to shelter and have dinner
in the cramped confines of the bivvy (5 people in
a 2 man bivvy is very cosy).
Not everyone slept in the bivvy and some braved
the elements in tents. One tent didn’t fare too well
and there was a knock on the door in the middle of the night as a snow-wall was quickly built
TROG 2005
to keep a tent from blowing away. This worked
OK, though by morning the 2 man tent had been
reduced to a 1 man tent by the snow. It was cold
the next morning and this made for a somewhat
leisurely start to the day, though soon we were off
again following in the footsteps of the obviously
deranged rabbit. Much traversing, winding around
bluffs and a scramble up a steepish gully led to a
broad ridge and lunch number one. This was followed to another valley and down to the creek that
led to the road and hot pools. A brief stop for lunch
number two, and then it was all go as we raced the
dark and made for the road.
One of us attempted to hitch and get the car while
the rest of us walked. This didn’t work too well
and the car was only retrieved in time to save
some walking the last few hundred metres. However, there are benefits to hitching and a carload
of dancing, female trampers obviously made for
a pleasant trip to retrieve the car. The hot pools
were well enjoyed and then we made it back to
Christchurch, with a brief stop at Culverden for
fish and chips (a word of warning, it may be better
to go hungry than stop here for takeaways as the
place is unlikely to win an award for its food). Making it safely back to Christchurch, the trip ended
as it had begun, in the dark.
Duncan Edwards
55
Burn, Mother Thumper
by Mike Carrigan
Lewis Pass, November 10 - 12
Trampers: Mike Carrigan, Steve Pawson, Esther
Meenken.
Show weekend, and once again the NorWest
weather dictated our plans for the weekend’s outdoor activities. There will be no caving on the West
Coast this trip. Bugger… A frenzy of emails and
Sylvia Flats hot pools is our new journey with no
destination. The potential burn victims dwindled
at the outset of such a colossal adventure, leaving
three remaining flammable targets, Steve Pawson, Esther and I. Enthusiasm overwhelmed me
at the happy number of three, so I let Steve drive
Thumper to Sylvia Flats and immediately partook
in a few refreshments for the duration. Sylvia Flats
Drinking buddies. Photo by Steve.
was very packed, only mildly drunken, and definitely missing some old fashioned random nudity.
We discussed our tramping options over beers in
the hot pools, Lewis tops being the firm favorite at
the time. A few more beers, a nipply dip in the river and a pleasant night’s sleep induced by alcohol.
Morning broke in the usual manner until, curiously,
a golden shower all over my brand spanking new
Fairydown tent aroused my suspicions, something
was afoot… No, just some perpetrators very well
endowed… water bottle? Retaliation was fruitless
as my tent zips were tied together! Arrrgghhhhhh,
foiled again by those dam filthy climbers from the
hot pools the night before (aka: Steve Fortune &
Jo Schaab). The damage already done, my pride
in tatters, I could only resort to coffee and feeding
the poor starving sandflies. Perhaps I should have
never hid Jo & Steve’s house mobile phone behind
their very unhygienic toilet two weeks previous?
Steve P, Esther & I packed up and drove Thumper
up the road where breakfast ensued at the start
of the St James track as we discussed further our
day’s plans. Steve came up with a stunning suggestion (given the Lewis tops were covering in) of
four wheel driving Thumper in on Station Creek
/ Sheriff River behind Lake Daniels, and getting
onto the tops there as they were further north.
Our destination decided, the tarns near the summit of LZ, we pushed onto the start of the 4WD
track past Springs Junction, usually feared and
loathed by trampers everywhere for its boring slog
under heavy foot. Many a ford, mud puddle and
small animal quivered under the might of Thumper that morning, and all was well. The river crossings where a breeze for Thumper’s beating engine
and vibrating shifter, as were the gnarly roots and
deep sludgy ruts that he occasionally wallowed his
oily belly on.
However, something unexpected happened! All
the lights on Thumper’s dash lit up brightly just
after exiting the river! This included the testicular
lamp, which has drawn much unwanted attention
to Thumper’s particulars in the past. I needed to
check this out and turned Thumper off immediately… Smoke seeped into the air from the edges
of the bonnet, and into the cabin. In a flash I was
out, the bonnet was up, and I could see the flames
licking around the back of the battery under the
fuel filter. Without thinking I ran to the boot and
pulled out a couple of billies to fill with water…
(Bad idea!) During this time Steve stuck his head
into Thumper’s engine bay and released his breath
with his lips gently pursed towards the offending
flames (so he says). I returned 20 seconds later
with water to find the fire was in fact, out! But was
it, what started it? That became obvious by the
Inspecting the damage. Photo by Esther.
56
TROG 2005
jack handle that was glowing red at one end welding itself between the chassis and positive terminal of the battery. A firm ‘jerk’ of the rubber grip
on the jack handle soon fixed that. Steve and I
inspected the burnt remains, drank a beer each,
and then started Thumper, first time, like nothing
had happened.
mulled, Steve and I got rather wobbly while Ester
slept under Steve’s famous blue fly. With dinner
barely finished, two bottles of red down, the NorWest hit with all its gusto. Down came the fly in
un-sober hurry, and we three retreated into my
two man tent for choc moose and one of Steve’s
excellent intoxicated discussions! Which he can-
We continued as planned, with a brief discussion
of walking out if Thumper refused to start when we
returned. At this juncture I wish to point out that
Thumper is the perfect tramping vehicle, always
loads of space, often an adventure, sometimes a
peculiar odor (probably the devils anus) and never
a second thought about watching him burn, if it
actually came to that!
I digress, Thumper safely parked on a rotten log,
we set out for the ridge that would take us to our
first point 539m, and immediately due to the pollen I started sneezing, which remained constant
for the next 3 hours uphill… (48 or 49 sneezes)
I was once told a sneeze is like one eighth of an
orgasm, so by that reckoning I had at least six
orgasms on the ridge that day. I was spent, no
really, I was! Nevertheless, the views into Lake
Daniels from the ridge line were simply superb, as
were some of the limestone cliff faces on the surrounding hills. We emerged through the tree line
where we absorbed the stunning views and then
made our way gently towards our intended camp
site via a steep tussock traverse that introduced
one reluctant member to Spaniard grass. (God
bless Steve’s gaiters, aye Ester!)
Camping at the tarns was great, a vegetable curry from memory was prepared while I went for a
walk and took in the view over the ridge towards
the Spencer range. (I made dessert, choc moose
with extra chunks of dark chocolate!) We took a
brief break before dinner and watched the sun set
beautifully into the NorWest clouds to the south of
us, imminent of what was coming our way for later
that evening. Dinner was cooked, red wine was
No, it’s that way! Photo by Esther.
not remember, actually, nor can I! I do however
remember some rather pungent smells (Satan’s
sphincter, curse it) and Steve talking himself to
sleep in the most awkward physical position possible, so that Esther and I had to manipulate him
so that we could get ourselves into our respective
sleeping bags.
The wind continued with violent blasts throughout
the night (the NorWest blew strong too!), ear plugs
up both nostrils and alcohol soon dealt to that for
me. Once again, all was well. It was an early start
for us at 6.30am before the rain started to set in.
Esther and Steve set off before me while I packed
up the site. Hence, I found a shortcut downhill via
a gut with a great biv rock overhang, could sleep
4 or 5 comfortably (15 students at least!), towards
the valley floor instead of the tussock/Spaniard
traverse that Steve and Ester took.
We met in the valley near the stream, and made
our way down through quite open forest on the
true left of the stream all the way out to the four
wheel drive track where Thumper was patiently
waiting. A feed of fried pita bread with mushrooms
& cheese was brought into realisation for lunch
under Steve’s blue fly, given the weather. Food,
dry cloths, but especially the chugging pulsation
of Thumpers crispy engine was welcomed by us all
at the end of another great tramp in Lewis Pass.
All credit to Steve for a great choice of destination in the midst of oppressive weather, and fiery
experiences!
BURN MOTHER THUMPER, Burn…
Who owns this arse? Photo by Steve.
57
Bushcraft Report
by Charlene Sell
Lewis Tops, March 19 - 20
The first instruction course for
2005 was bushcraft - a chance
for us novices to learn some basic tramping and survival skills.
We arrived at our meeting point
in Lewis Pass, only to find that
we were short a few instructors
- Mark’s new grown up car being unable to manage its first
CUTC trip. Having eventually
managed to sort out its minor
mechanical difficulties, however, we were back to our full
complement of instructors.
prepared the best meal, but
there was no evidence of this
- my guess is that it was all
a farce so that the instructors
could get a free feed! In the
absence of any declared winner, I’d like to put forward my
team as providing the vastly
superior meal. Although I can’t
exactly provide any proof of
this, nevertheless we’ll be expecting some sort of trophy.
The next morning we packed
up and headed off-track to
experience the joys of bushbashing (my all-time favourite and nearly as fun as runDeciding not to ease us into it,
ning down scree slopes - note
Dave led us up the steep ascent Bushcraft Lesson One: How to the sarcasm). Bushbashing is
to Lewis Pass Tops. Once there, Disguise Yourself as a Tree.
great, not only is there the powe split off into groups, each led
tential to get yourself lost, but
by a couple of very able instrucyou also get to look forward to
tors. We had a pretty simple set of instructions; to
being scratched to pieces (gorse is the best for
reach our camp before dark. To do this we were
this). For anyone who missed out on bushcraft this
taught about route finding and identifying features
year, and is thinking about going next year; ignore
such as tarns and gullies from a topo map (pretty
my negativity, it really isn’t at all as bad as I’ve
coloured ones no less!).
made it out to be, and bushbashing allows you to
get to some really cool places that wouldn’t otherHaving all trickled into camp we set about erecting
wise be open to you.
(ha ha - jeez I’m immature) our tents. Getting a
As we travelled back to Christchurch, some of us
bit hungry, we returned to our groups to prepare
dinner. Apparently this was supposed to be some
were keen to have a go at river-crossing. Before
sort of competition, with a prize for the group that
we were let loose, though, we were given the
talk about identifying the best place to cross and
whether its safe to cross at all, recognizing hazards
and how to hold on to each other as we’re crossing
- apparently dragging someone under and using
them as a flotation device is not the best way of
doing this. Having had to cross numerous rivers
since, this was a very valuable experience.
Soaking wet, we got back to the cars, where Mark
thought he’d be cool and pull out his trademark
handbrake spin as he left the carpark (are you
sure he’s reached puberty, Sylvia?!).
Anyway, this was a really fun weekend with a
great bunch of people. You get to learn heaps,
particularly if you’re new to tramping or new to
the country and its bizarre weather and terrain. I’d
definitely recommend coming along to bushcraft
next year, but watch out for some of the lecherous
old hands, they love newbies (easy to spot though
- look for little, tight shorts and shifty eyes!).
58
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Angelus Hut, Nelson Lakes
by James Lennox
Group on shore of Lake Rotoiti. From left:
Lotte, Anders, Fernando, Daniel, Rita and
James.
June 4 - 6
Six of us travelled to St Arnaud on Friday evening
to make the most of the Queen’s Birthday weekend. The original idea of ascending Robert Ridge
was impractical because of high winds and deep
powder snow. We decided to follow the Lakeside
track around Lake Rotoiti and then climbed Cascade track up to Hukere clearing, then covered by
several feet of fresh snow. We camped (in differing
levels of comfort!) at the edge of the clearing on
Saturday night.
On Sunday, Fernando and Rita decided to return
to Coldwater Hut to go ‘fishing’ and photographing
respectively. Daniel, Anders, Lotte and I contin-
Camping ‘in differing levels of comfort’ at the
edge of Hukere clearing.
Rita hiding in a tree. Freud’s interpretation
of this photo would involve ego, dreams, her
childhood, as well as subjects not suitable
for a family publication.
ued up to Angelus hut, tediously plugging steps
and occasionally sinking up to our waists, but getting some great views of the surrounding slopes
and down into the valley thanks to the clear sunny
weather. Finally reaching the (truly magnificent!)
Angelus Hut after midday, we had a badly needed
lunch break and admired the views of the lake and
surrounds through the double-glazed windows.
Two guys from Nelson had got to the hut late the
previous night after an epic trip via Speargrass
Valley, reaching the hut around midnight! After
trudging back down through the snow - somehow
Anders managed to do a sitting glissade most of
the way to the treeline - the four of us camped in
Hukere clearing again.
On Monday we walked out along the lakeside
again, meeting Fernando and Rita (but no fish!) in
the café at St Arnaud.
59
Over the River & Through the Woods
to Cedar Flats Hut we go (almost)
– Neil’s 40th birthday tramp
by Mike
August
Trampers: Neil Milani, Mike and Craig.
“Attached is a transcript of our misadventures on
a seemingly simple Cedar Flats trip that turned
into a mess - but with a happy ending. I think it
might be interesting for Kiwis to see a Yank’s perspective on how we perceive the trails you classify
as ‘easy’.” (This was from the main body of Neil’s
email to which this story was attached.)
We have a plan (kind of) but we’re gonna hike up
to Cedar Flats Hut. We belly thru Hokitika, and
bum directions to Cedar Flats from a Kiwi couple
out walking their pooch. Delightful they were, but
it was some DOC dude that pulled up who proved
to be the catalyst for our 1st gnarly Kiwi misadventure. It’s 3pm, he blurts out that the hut is doable
in 3 hours and then babbles some sketchy directions … something about a cattle gate. So we find
the 1st cattle gate, park, load up our packs, and
start on thru the gates. We are looking at about
2.5 hrs of daylight, and a 5 mile hike. … but we’re
in, ‘cause we’re clueless … oh and ‘cause we have
headlamps … no worries, right?
The track starts out easy, and we have to amble
around a bit to find the 1st “true” mark. We see
a bike & a car parked there, so we know we’re on
the right track, and we’ll have hut mates... hopefully a few Kiwi hotties. The trail is wicked soft &
wet as we enter the thick bush and we traverse/
skip (yes skip) thru much of the muck on rocks &
logs, which is a treat. After an hour or so, we’re
back along the side of the river, but a detour has
been made due to lower trail wash out. This is no
detour, it is a bloody ladder to the heavens, made
of roots, rocks, and trees on a 60% grade and say
300 meters of vertical… up and then down. Yeah
baby, now we’re in deep … we’re livin’ the dream,
trampin’ in NZ.
The trail is well marked and we are out on the
river’s edge, traversing boulder fields, and cruisin’
along, but daylight is waning. So, we whip out the
headlamps, and the trail re-enters the brush and
the thick canopy makes for complete darkness.
After about 3 hours of hiking, we’re still on the
trail about 4 miles in, laughin’ at the DOC’s estimate … goin’ thru batteries like shit thru a goose?
Because it is now dark … damn dark.
Then at about hour 4, we pop out onto a beach,
which was just a wide, dry swath of riverbed
next to the chilly river. The cairn where the
trail dumps out on the beach is our last mark.
We need to find another, so we proceed up
river along the left bank … looking … looking
… no mark to be found. We see boot prints in
the sand, so I figure we’re still good, but the
beach is narrowing between bush on the left
and river on the right. So we look up and see a
beacon in the distant blackness. It is only on
for a few seconds, then we see it again. Dammit man leave it on … but to no avail, it’s out
for good. We agree it must be a headlamp of
someone near the hut, someone who chose to
arrive before dusk, the smartass. The distance
is hard to gauge, but we hike straight for it.
The beach runs out, and we’re hiking the rocks
on the river’s left bank under thick overhanging foliage. Every few feet, stopping to scan
for a so-called bridge, that the guidebook says
is right near the hut. … but no luck … the river
is bending around to the left, so we’re proceeding, but we’re gonna be in the river soon
… still no bridge.
60
TROG 2005
We’re stymied, I see no bridge, we regroup and
turn back to retrace our steps and look for a trail
marker, by trying a few dead ends up in to the
bush. We hike all the way back to the cairn, cold,
hungry and tired … but happy to have “unpredicament naturale”. We presume that the top rock on
the cairn is actually pointed deliberately across
the river. We illogically deduce that we should try
crossing it. The river is rushing pretty well, and is
about 20” deep, and is ice f-ing cold. So I don the
Sealskinz socks, and my Keen sandals, and my
pants rolled up, and proceed reluctantly across,
sure as hell not wanting to take a bath. I get across
to the sandy swatch on the right bank. Hike it up
and down, using Craig’s super atomic flashlight, as
I’ve gone thru about 9 AA’s already with my halogen Petzl Zoom relic. I look for anything remotely
resembling a path but I find nothing. I do find wet
kindling, and I figure we’re done lookin’ … the hut
is over-rated anyway, why not just bed down here,
the sand is flat, and we’ll build a fire. Despite a
whole box of matches, and 2 fire starter blocks, I
can’t get the wood to cook - just to glow … I guess
I get an “F” grade for fire starting for me, oh and
an “F” in trail finding too.
Meanwhile, the birthday boy & Craig are gearin’
up for their river crossin’. Why he’s free-ballin’ it
(nothing from the waist down) across the river I
don’t know, but Neil I’m sure had some logic - hypothermia induced delusional as it may have been.
They are arm in arm no less, and Neil is sportin’ no
pants & no u-trow (underwear) … I had to laugh to
keep from cryin’ … no to keep warm … no to keep
sane. We decide to sleep out. We roll out our pads
& bags, except Neil had no pad … confident that
we we’re going to make it to
the hut. Why wouldn’t he be,
we had a super sweet guidebook, that we just bought @
the UoC bookstore earlier that
day. Spontaneity was King on
this trip, and we wouldn’t have
had it any other way. Neil could
have stayed back and celebrated 40 years on Earth with a
nice dinner, cake, and a few too
many Kettle & Tonics … w/all his
newfound college expats … but
that wouldn’t have been near
as memorable. As we lay in
our cocoons, trying to keep the
heavy mist from soaking our
bags, by putting pack covers,
and space blankets over top …
we couldn’t believe how many
stars there were. I felt like I
was in the damn middle of the
Milky Way … I saw 4 shooting
stars that night. At about midnight, my core and arms were
numb & tingling, I was uncon-
trollably shivering, and I was certain I would have
to just get up and keep moving all night just to
stay warm. Neil, the genius, suggested I christen
the Jetboil, and fill my Nalgene up with the boiling
water, to use as a hot water bottle. I filled his &
mine up, all the while Craig lay totally motionless,
totally covered in his brand new, kick-ass TNF 30degree F bag. I on the other hand still had to get
up about every 2 hours to boil water, and fill my
Nalgene, just to keep from shaking … and no REM
cycling was had by me. Birthday boy, sans pad,
with his wife’s bag, was somewhere in between
Craig and I of suffering, but all the while retaining
his cool. That was what most impressed me, is
that we got along BEA-utifully, and never bitched,
nary one iota o’ dissension, regardless what came
our way. I love you guys. 6 am comes, there is
just enough light to start to get a perspective on
where we were, where we had been, and where
we needed to go. I wake-up Craig to check he’s
still alive, and he’s fuckin’ sleepin’ … that bastard.
I talk to Neil, he’s in a ball under his massive 120
litre pack rain fly, with only 2 glad bags & some
extra clothes between him and the cold wet sand.
It was about -5 degrees C that night. We could
now see the hut, but not the bridge. We we’re
500 meters away, tops! We finally find the trail
marker we were looking for on the left bank, it
was quite high up in a tree, but it was there … our
fault, I say … joyfully taking all the responsibility
for this mishappen adventure that I wouldn’t have
changed a thing about. Craig, a newby hiker, had
properly christened all his gear, and I’d bet he’ll
have a hard time topping that for a tramping story
of a lifetime. Neil turned 40 in style, and with all
the valor of a veteran tramper/explorer.
61
Beginners Ice Climbing 101
– with Steve Fortune
by Jo Schaab
Franz Josef Glacier, July 16 - 17
Team: Jo Schaab, Steve Fortune, Jaap.
For those of you who do not know Steve you would
be forgiven for thinking this story is about a simple
trip involving ice and advice - it’s much more!
The West Coast forecast was good and Steve [who
had recently handed in his PhD thesis] was keen
as mustard to head out into the ice and snow for
some long overdue punishment. When I was invited to join his ‘ice climbing’ trip to the Franz Josef
glacier I wondered to myself, ‘is he really going to
do an easy trip so that I can learn about ice climbing or does he just need me for my car?’ Of course
I said YES I’d be keen - I needed an opportunity to
get out of the smoggy city plus I wanted to see if I
could do it. For my recent birthday he’d given me a
climbing harness, plus I really enjoyed the outdoor
rock climbing we had done together.
So after work I drove to Steve’s flat with my little
car and found out just how small it really was when
we tried to fit the three of us in and all our gear.
[Steve’s flatmate Jaap joined in so he could try out
his shiny new tools.] “Yay it’s the weekend!” I exclaimed. To celebrate we joined the whole suburb
of Russley for ‘fish-n-chip Friday’. Then with our
stomachs full and our fingers greasy we got on our
way.
Our plan was already sketchy enough as we drove
into the Franz Josef Glacier car park 4 hours later
and realised it
was completely inhospitable.
We chose to
ignore this fact
and slept on
the hard sloped
gravel under a
brilliant starry
sky and then
arose with the
sun ready for
the days ‘lesson’.
For once the
weather forecast was absolutely right!
The day was
fabulous! Ste-
62
ve had planned to start by using the steps that the
tourist guides had cut to get up onto the glacier
but instead chose to find another way…
Lesson Number 1: Take the steps
It was wicked to be there on an icy wonderland,
looking one way up the ancient solid snow enclosed by high cliffs and the other way down the
valley and out to the coast. Unfortunately a nice
stroll up to a good ‘flat bit’ was not possible. The
‘wonderland’ was a huge maze of icy danger. “Stuff
the ice climbing lesson.” - I had to figure out how
to walk again! Cramponing on this sort of ice with
steep gradients and no room for error was new
for me! I swapped someone’s technical tool for my
walking axe and felt a bit better. I noticed a huge
difference in the stick-ability of it. Steve gave me
bits of instruction in between trying to find a way
through to a plateau where we would begin the ‘lesson’. Actually, by the time we got up there, I had
learned to walk, climbed almost vertical walls with
the front points of my poons & using two axes, and
jumped over enormous cracks and nearly crapped
my pants!
‘The Lesson’: with Steve
We found a playground area that had walls we
could climb and no big deep crevasses at the bottom. This is where Steve put on his rather sexy
‘instructor’ voice and proceeded to demonstrate
how to hold & flick an axe to get a good stick, how
to climb more efficiently by reducing arm work,
how to save your calf muscles from too much front
pointing, and advice about cramponing. Jaap was
already good at climbing but was relatively new at
this ice stuff. So he practised using his shiny new
tools and I went and explored the cool shapes and
passageways in the area. After lunch we practised
on a really steep and quite high wall using ropes
TROG 2005
and harnesses like you would on rock. Steve led
first and put in an anchor at the top. Jaap had a go
leading and placing his own gear. I went up after
him with the aim of clearing his protection gear but
fell and punctured my leg with my axe in the process - OW! So I discovered even though I was on
top rope and belay there were still plenty of sharp
things around that could turn things sour! But I
made it to the top and felt proud.
The post-lesson challenge
The next challenge for the day was getting off this
glacier and finding a bed. The Castle Rocks Hut
was our planned accommodation. It lives way up
on the top of one of the cliffs that frame the glacier.
It took ages to find a way off the ice and get to the
gully we needed to climb. With darkness looming
we had to choose between two options. Climb the
gully in the dark to the hut or turn around and try
and make it back to the car park in the dark. Well I
didn’t want to be climbing and jumping over huge
crevasses with a headlamp as my only light source!
I voted for the hut option whist looking straight up
that steep gully! At least I knew I could climb rocky
scree and follow a creek in the dark.
a huge vertical
wall to get back
onto that ice
monster.
It
wasn’t as bad
as I initially
thought
but
I did have to
swear a lot and
grunt my way
up. Jaap had
gone up first
and was belaying me. I tried
to do it with
my pack on but
left it halfway
clipped to an ice
screw because
I just didn’t
have
enough
strength left. I
made it to the top and watched Steve run up it
with two packs [his and Jaap’s] and then skip down
and get mine and pop back up again - far out! That
pissed me off ‘cos I found it so hard! Then again, I
was supposed to be a beginner!
Lesson Three: Take the steps
We marched around and up and down following
Steve as he led us back into the middle of the
glacier. We jumped more cracks, balanced on the
points of our crampons, scrambled through the obstacle course and stopped for lunch in the beautiful sunshine. My lunch was mainly borrowed from
Jaap who ingeniously brought crackers and cream
cheese! Mmm!
We had to abseil off the glacier as the sun faded
and scramble up and up and up then off a bit to the
right and up some more. About half way I began
to doubt that there would be an area flat enough
or big enough for a hut. I was encouraged by the
presence of cairns along our path. Once again the
weather conditions made it bearable - the moon
was bright enough to see by even though it wasn’t
full.
Of course the hut was the most fabulous thing on
earth when we found it. Hurrah! It had lots of candles and someone had even left bottles of wine!
After a fabulous meal and a frozen sleep we were
rewarded with a divine sunrise - we were on the
top of the world.
The Next Day...
Back down we go… When we arrived at the edge
of the glacier again I was terribly exhausted. All
the strength I’d had the day before was gone and I
felt very scared when I found that we had to scale
At last we found the steps! The path that is travelled every fine day by hundreds of tourists and
their heroic guides who are up at the crack of dawn
carving the steps and practising their pick up lines.
[We met a guide who was there, even though it
was his day off, so he could flash his new shiny
tools. Steve said it was perfectly OK to gawk at
another man’s tools. I don’t think so!]
It was so easy from then on! I was able to stop
stressing and look around at the wonderful features in our icy jungle gym. The deep blue recesses, the cool curves, the convenient rope that appeared whenever there was a huge drop below the
path. I practically skipped down and then, when I
stepped off the large steps onto the rocky valley
floor, I collapsed with relief.
We made it!!
None of the horrible circumstances created by my
overactive imagination had occurred. I was OK. It
was then that I realised it had actually been a lot
of fun!!!
63
Mt Adams
by Marcel Lancelle
April 23 - 25
There were three club trips going to the West Coast
that long weekend in late April, by chance escaping the first hailstorms of the year in Christchurch.
Teresa, Amber, Alastair, Dave and I decided to do
the trip up Mt. Adams at the West Coast. We did
the major part of the drive on Saturday afternoon,
got some chips somewhere on the West Coast and
camped at lake Ianthe.
After a short drive the next morning, just enough
to warm up a little bit in the car, we started walking upstream up the Dry Creek (also called Little
Man River) shortly past 9am. With a clear blue
sky it quickly got warmer. Maybe we also didn’t
exactly freeze because we did a lot of rock scrambling up the rocky river bed. After all, starting at
an altitude of 100m the track goes up to the summit of 2200m in less than 10km.
A few river crossings and almost two hours later
we arrived at the start of the track 100m up a side
stream on the true right. This is the last time to
get some water. A little fork on a branch marks the
start of the slightly overgrown track. A lot overgrown in fact. From that point on it just goes up a
steep ridge. Climbing up through the dense bush
we only occasionally got some views. Just after
reaching the bush line we left the ridge and picked
a camp spot that was not too exposed because
there was a cool breeze at a temperature below
zero degrees.
Walking back up to the ridge we could watch a nice
sunset over the Tasman sea, then quickly cooked
some dinner and found the way into our sleeping
bags. No no, everyone in their own sleeping bag.
In our tent, at least. Ahh, you know what I mean.
The next morning we started climbing again, a bit
late but still before sunrise, leaving the tents safely packed at the camp spot. The ridge remained
quite steep but it was not too difficult to get up.
Reaching the main ridge and the glacier part we
put on the snow gear. Even though it is just for a
very short time it is still necessary and well worth
carrying all the way up. The very last bit is rocky
again and at 10.40am we reached the summit,
having a great view of the Main Divide with Mt.
Cook and the Tasman Sea. After the compulsory
summit photos (a few more in my case, as you
might have guessed) and a quick lunch we started
going down back the same way.
Sure enough we were relieved to reach the river
and get some drinking water. I took the challenge
trying to get a nice photo of the fantail accompanying us for a long time. Of course it was quite
photo shy and was very skilled at just flying away
when I pressed the shutter. It got late and we arrived at the cars just when it got dark. So to summarize: steep, exhausting, cold, great views and
fun!!! All photos by Marcel.
64
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Inland Pack Track
by Julian Maclaren
April 24 - 25
There’s nothing like a CUTC trip
for accumulating a large number
of people. This time there were
14 of us all heading for the famous Ballroom Overhang on the
Inland Pack Track (West Coast,
near Punakaiki).
After a car shuffle involving our
four cars we set off up the Fox
River with a quick stop to check
out the Fox River Caves. It was
only a brief detour and well
worth a look. Unlike most caves
it was nice and dry and required
no special equipment except for
a torch.
Pack Track (yeah, I know, I’m
soft...).
A few of us went on a little side
trip to the Cave Creek Resurgence, the site of the viewing
platform which collapsed in
1995 killing 14 people and seriously injuring a further four. It
was almost 10 years to the day
since the disaster. It’s interesting to note the changes DOC
have made as a direct result of
the Cave Creek tragedy:
After Cave Creek, every structure along the network of tracks
managed by DOC was catalogued, including signs, toilets,
suspension bridges etc. Each
one was photographed, numWe met so many other people
on the track that we were afraid
bered (those orange labels you
there might not be space under
would’ve noticed) and assessed
the overhang for everyone. To Claudia impersonating her fa- for safety. All structures are now
solve this problem, some of us vourite character: Shelob, the inspected every two years by
put on a speed spurt so as to cave spider from The Lord of the DOC staff. In addition, the 4641
get there first and grab all the Rings.
high-risk structures (viewing
good spots (as nice people do). However we soon
platforms and bridges higher than 1.5 m) are indiscovered that, as someone had told us, there
spected every six years by an engineer.
was enough space for “an army of trampers”.
Because DOC now has a database of everything,
Some opted for tents, some for bivy bags while
it’s possible to count how many of everything
the hardest (and/or stupidest) just lay down in
there is. So here are a few interesting (?) facts
their sleeping bags under the overhang while the
about DOC tracks and structures, all stolen from
frost formed only metres away.
the DOC website:
The following morning we splashed up the picTotal track length: 12 890 km
turesque Dilemma Creek Gorge. This would be a
Bridges: 3921 bridges, spanning 48 km
great trip on hot summer’s day but was a little
Boardwalks: 5728. Total length: 83 km
cool on this occasion. It was a bit of a relief when
Backcountry huts: 990
Other buildings: 3191, including 1671 toilets
we escaped the river and returned to the Inland
Signs: 15 698
That’s a lot of track. If you walked 15-20 km/day
it’d take you around 2 years of continuous tramping to do the lot. Anyway now I’m way off the topic
so...
We finished up at Punakaiki after a short and
pleasant walk down the Pororari Gorge. A highly
recommended easy two-day trip although probably not so good in winter due to the amount of
time spent in the river (unless you like tramping
in a wetsuit).
Bushball 2006: I vote for the Ballroom!
Photo to left by Cris, photo at top by Julian.
65
Up, Mud, Water
– The Hump Ridge Track, Fiordland
by Darryn Welham
March 26 - 28
Trampers: Bridget Edwards, Caroline Coquerel,
Charlene Sell, Darrin Woods, Darryn Welham, Gill
Hardie, Ruth Pezsynski, Symon Holmes.
After a chaotic week of university and organising,
eight of us ended up in Rarakau Lodge car park
at the start of the Hump Ridge Track. Some of us
had spent the night sleeping in the car and a hay
barn at the start of the track; the less adventurous
members of the group had been scared off to the
backpackers by constant rain all day and wind. It
was Easter Saturday: cool, cloudy and drizzling.
Being the tough youthful folk we are we opted out
of the transport option shortening the first and last
day and had a pleasant extra 6km walk along the
beach and 4WD track. Soon after being laughed
at by a couple going out of the track for trying to
keep my boots clean and dry, I discovered that
while this was a private/touristy walk there was
still plenty of mud. After all it is Fiordland National
Park!
After leaving the 4WD track we crossed a few
flooded creeks on nice new swing bridges, and
then we climbed. The track gained height steadily, and then a little quicker, and pretty soon we
were in the cloud. The lush ferns of the coastal
level were replaced by moss covered beech. The
track finally broke through the bush line but views
were almost nonexistent. Instead we were treated to mystical foggy silhouettes of the trees below and tussock in front. Soon we arrived at the
“hut”, not quite last, having overtaken one group
that took the transport option. As our beds were
already booked and allocated, there was no race
to get there. Okaka hut was impressive, cooking
equipment, gas, and crockery were provided, and
toilets were that magical flushing kind. The dining
area resembled a nice mess or cheap restaurant
with not a bench seat to be seen. The word of the
day was ‘up’, with ‘mud’ as runner up.
In the morning porridge was cooked for us by the
hut warden and we enjoyed a sunrise. Yes sun!
It was going to be a fine and sunny day for us to
enjoy the views from the tops. These views were
indeed spectacular: tarns, tussock, rocks, ocean,
Lake Hauroko, and islands, all presented from an
easy-walking boardwalk. Easter Sunday involved
walking along and then down the ridge. There was
a prevalence of boardwalk, but still ‘mud’ had the
majority; in fact ‘mud’ easily took out word of the
day.
At the bottom of the ridge the track follows a historic tram line. It crosses three spectacular wooden viaducts, and its even gradient makes for good
walking. The hut for the night was Port Craig Village, situated on the site of the 1920-1930 village
for shipping the timber brought in by the tramline.
The hut was similar to Okaka but with more sandflies.
The final day, Easter Monday, we awoke to pouring
rain. We visited the historic sights nearby the hut
including my favourite, the 1923 urinal… Then we
headed back along the coast to the car. It was supposed to be the shortest day but the up-and-down
stairs of the first two days was taking its toll on
knees and the pace was slow. The rain cleared and
at times sun beamed through the trees, increasing
spirits. The mud continued but we needed a new
word of the day - ‘water’. Water was everywhere
on Monday, falling from the sky and trees, covering the mud, and crashing on the beach. No dolphins were spotted, apparently they frequent the
beach at Port Craig.
Soon it was back to the car, inspect the blisters,
and the long drive back to Chch. Photo to left by
Symon, photo at top by Darryn.
66
TROG 2005
Kepler Track
– Dutch Girl Discovers Tramping
by Greetje Groenendaal
October 14 - 17
Trampers: Steven Rothuizen, Matthew Gibbons,
Thor Russell, Jessica Lin, Marek Schoenherr, Volker
Nock, Phillip Claar, Greetje Groenendaal.
Because there are people who think it might be interesting to know the Dutch perspective on tramping, I’m asked to write a TROG report about the
Kepler Track, the first overnight tramp of my life.
On Friday 14 October, we headed off to Te Anau.
The ride took us quite a long time because for both
Phillip and me this was the first time we were driving that far in New Zealand. I think we drove Thor
and Jessica sometimes completely crazy with our
frequent begging for picture breaks. However, after
a final stop in Frankton, where we met the complete
town for the Friday night Fish ‘n Chips meeting, we
finally reached our hostel in Te Anau. It was at the
hostel that I found out that luxury has a completely
different meaning to New Zealand trampers than
it has to Dutch tourists. When Jessica had told me
before that the huts would be of high standard, I
assumed to find at least hot showers and electricity there and certainly not that I had to get my
drinking water from a river or that this smelly hole
would be called a toilet. After I found out all this
information, I started to feel scared about possible
other surprises the following days. Feeling a little
bit uncomfortable I fell asleep.
Day 1: After this night I already had pictures in
my head of myself struggling through mud and balancing on slippery rocks for days. Fortunately this
was not the case. The weather was perfect. And
actually, walking the Kepler track is like walking on
a highway. It was nice and easy to walk up the
first hours through the forest. Some people even
thought that it was that easy to walk up the moun-
tain, that they decided to carry some cans of beer
under their arms, to make it a little more challenging. After we were finally above the tree line, the
weather suddenly was not that nice anymore, but
the view was beautiful. In the afternoon we made a
small side trip to the cave close to the Mt Luxmoore
Hut. The hut itself was not as bad as it had become
in my imagination. And after a meal of noodles and
salami, which after one day of walking felt like one
of the best meals in my life, we enjoyed the view
from the hut and I was even more convinced about
New Zealand’s overwhelming beauty.
Day 2: The next day we were woken up by keas. Unfortunately, they were already gone before I could
spot them. After a breakfast of oats and muesli,
which tasted surprisingly well, we left the hut for
crossing the alpine section. Again the views were
fantastic. And fortunately we saw the keas again. I
was very enthusiastic to see them, but when I saw
the hate in Stevens eyes I realized that not everyone shared that feeling. My feelings of hate came
later, when we arrived at the next hut and dozens
of sandflies decided that my arms were the perfect
place to land. This was a good reason to keep on
moving, so we made a side walk to the Iris Burn
waterfall.
Day 3: The last day was an easy day, at least for
some of us. Thor, Jessica and I decided not to walk
back to the parking place at the start of the track,
but to leave the track 3 hours earlier to go to another parking place where we had parked a car. So
we could spend some more hours on the beautiful
beach of Lake Manapouri. This beach was full of
sandflies, which could however be easily ignored
by closing our eyes. Which was a perfect excuse
to have a small sleep. By the time that we decided
to go back on track again, the others were already
pretty far. By the time that we were talking about
the nice ice-cream we could have after the track,
the first blisters occured on our feet. And by the
time we were finally having this wonderful icecream, their complete group had fallen silent while
struggling with the last kilometres. Completely tired
they arrived some hours after us back in the hostel.
However, now they can say that they walked the
COMPLETE Kepler Track.
Even though I can’t say that I walked the complete
Kepler Track, I have to say that this first overnight
tramp was a very nice and special experience and
that I’m very happy that I have still some more
months left to do heaps more tramps in New Zealand. Photo supplied by Greetje.
67
Best of the Rest
– Photos that haven’t found another place in TROG 2005
Freshers in Hawdon Valley (report on pages
38 - 39). Photo by Wei Ying Chew.
Steve Fortune and Fred de Zwart received
the Highest Climb Award.
On the Kepler Track (report on page 67).
Photo by Greetje Groenendaal.
View from Foggy Peak (report on pages 18
- 19). Photo by Zita Lin.
On the Kepler Track (report on page 67).
Photo by Greetje Groenendaal.
68
On the Mingha - Lake Mavis - Edwards tramp
(report on pages 32 - 33). Photo by Christian
Thiemann.
TROG 2005
Attempt to spell Fyf(f)e on its summit on September 24. Photo supplied by Volker Nock.
What’s Steven Rothuizen doing
on Lewis Tops? This photo by
Matthew Gibbons was a winner
in the CUTC photo competition.
Mt Fyffe tramp. Photo by Fernando Duarte.
This is Mark Hooker. Photo by Sylvia Maclaren.
( A sumthing to keep you goin til march :)
View back towards Taruahuna Pass
(report on pages 34 - 35). Photo
by Scott Birney.
Tramping is not just an activity where one tramps
The T of this word stands for tuff styles on nature’s ramp
Where the floor designed is unmatchable to any other floor
The audience to such a walk are all manifestations of things
and creatures outdoor
So hey you guys if CUTC enables such a walk
What you waiting for come and have a talk
Coz we are here waiting with welcome arms
To help and guide you through this world of charms
We here at CUTC live to tramp
University of Canterbury is our base camp
69
T-Shirt Competition
April 20
THE WINNER
70
TROG 2005
TROG 2004 Explanation and Apology
TROG 2004 was aborted by its incompetent editors. Not wanting to disappoint you, dear readers,
we, the TROG 2005 editors, dove into the dumpster behind the hospital and recovered the cold
foetus of TROG 2004, in all its 8-page glory. Enjoy!
Not everyone is strong enough to withstand the
other temptations of the Devil, in particular that
of sloth. We thought, therefore, that this cartoon
may partly help explain why 2004 failed to come
to light before now.
71
The Bed Mat Scripture
by Kylie Legg, transcribed by Ben Ramsay
11 Nov
Leave Christchurch (after packing with huge
hangover). I pick up guys in Geraldine. Delicious
ice-cream in Gerald Cromwell. After checking out
every place to sleep in Q-town (and Kurt being
called tourist), finally managed to find some beds
in Frankton. Girls discovered where we were going
& how long for we’d Played on rock wall in Shop!
Shopping.
12 Nov
Squeezed in car. Tourist asked if we were doing
the Routeburn after seeing our ice axes, crampons
????. Slogged up till ate, saw views. Sugarloaf
(unfortunately you couldn’t eat it ...) “Route” finding - found apparently non-existent sign. Camped
in ‘aptly named’ (why??) Theatre flat with a fire by
the rocks as we lay in the open playing cards.
13 Nov
Bush bashing / Route finding. Very cool mossy forest. Snow!! - Clamber across tops of bluffs before
finding the right spur to come down - luckily Matt
had the description for the guided walkers instead
of a proper route guide Classic. Rain started as
we got to the rocks. Had a tussle with a rock & a
couple of bushes. Camped in rain. Had chocolate
pudding!! Awesome.
14 Nov
Still here. 6pm photo shoot. The worst possible
calls to Last Card & some severe Shafting going on.
More hassling off the poor foam mat. And rocks.
Gave the boys a good thinker when we offered a
massage for their -thennarests-. More Yanef, with
my leg as a scorecard. Rain.
Stuck in a tent in the rain & wind on Cow Saddle
in Mt Aspring Nation Park. No cows to be seen.
Magnificent views covered by cloud. We managed
to bring a few friendly sandflies from Theatre flat.
Hopefully all dead now After Math kindly stuck our
tent up on a field of pointy rocks - we had a ‘lovely’
nights sleep in the down pouring rain and wind
“woke up” to more rain so went back to ‘sleep’.
Poor Zira braved the elements on a trip to the river, before the boys crashed the tent for some card
games. After stinking out the tent & teaching us
the Israeli card game Yanef we read the tent label
‘Don’t put the tent in sun’, Don’t cook near the tent
- Ha too late. Still raining. Rocks give a very painful massage. Bright Red rocks - scree on one side,
72
waterfalls getting ominously louder on the other.
Loo trips at the last minute cos it cold outside.
15 Nov
Wakeup. Could see the Col. But then ... Rain. Gutted Back to sleep, trying to avoid the lime green
demonic platypus with orange eyes. Harder to kill
than a possum. Had the hardest day; tramp an of
us have ever done... Finally decided to go back cos
we couldn’t see the col. Bugger. So back down to
the lunch spot in 1/2 the time. Had huge lunch cos
not too far too go. Zita led off & immediately got
lost so Matt was now the leader. Not pointing any
fingers but we came to a place we hadn’t seen B4.
So spent hrs bush bashing up likely looking trails
& getting dive bombed by angry birds. Jettisoned
packs & spent more time searching. 4pm - decided
to go back to camp/lunch site. What did we see on
the way back but a huge orange marker pointing
up the hill. GUTTED! So back to the camp site for
the third time & the sun comes out. HALLELUJAH!
Drying tents & crap all over the place. Matt climbs
a tree With crampons & ice axes - can’t carry them
all this way & not use them. Tree art.
16 Nov
Rain. New snow on hill that you can almost see
when the cloud clears Not again! Clamber up hill
in the pouring rain. Soon turns to snow as we get
up the pass. Tons of snow up the top in November.
What the?? Luckily the weather cleared slightly so
we could find our way. Ice axes out - guess they
were useful after all. Keep on plugging through the
snow & tussocks - so wet that puddles are only
avoided when mud up to the knee is likely - cos
then its hard to get your foot out. A very WET lunch.
Back to Theatre Flat - big decision - camp or keep
slogging. Decided to decide at the next camp site.
Slogged on. Envisioned another night in a wet tent
with wet clothes & wet wet wet & cold... Finally
decided to mission it out. So staggered up the hill
to Sugarloaf - through a ton of windfall. Slogged
through mud & slush in the meantime getting covered in snow. Finally got to the downhill part - the
thought of a hot shower & real food fired our legs
as we flew down the hill. Still groaned on the uphill
bits though. Finally got to the Routeburn shelter
& into dryish clothes. Found a hut in Glenorchy to
sleep in & Frozen pies for dinner. Saving grace was
that it still looked crap in the hills when we woke
up the next morning.
Kylie at work writing this story on her bed
mat (Opposite page, bottom left).
TROG 2004
Otehake Hot Pools
by Sylvia Maclaren
Trampers: Sylvia, Ben, Craig, Jorg, Gill, Bridget,
Frans, Caro, Luc, Steve, Michael and Fraser.
“I’m organising a trip to Otehake,” announced
Craig, the same as he had for the previous three
times. This time was different, because we were
actually going to get there, claimed Craig!
It started with 12 adventurers. Actually, more like
partiers, with the gear list including good food, copious amounts of alcohol and “does anyone have
speakers for my MP3 player?” from Ben. The walk
was going to be short, and there were going to be
hot pools. Heaven.
We ditched Steve and Luc at the Otira footbridge
as Steve was going to make his ninth trip to the
hot pools memorable by entering over the Waheroa saddle as opposed to the normal ‘wimpy’
route. The rest of us who had struggled to lift our
packs into the cars were not so enthusiastic.
A couple of hours, a river crossing and many photos later, we reached Lake Kaurapataka. Nice.
No sign of Steve and Luc though. So, down the
steep track to the Otehake river and along, just
about there! Just one more crossing we thought as
Craig, Ben, Sylvia and Fraser step in. Ben goes up
to neck level and Sylvia’s feet are off the ground.
Hmm. Let’s not cross here guys!
After much deliberation, it was decided that the
only solution was to bush bash up to the flood
route. It took ages and climbing up a slip just
didn’t seem safe somehow. Some members began to doubt the existence of the elusive track,
but onwards and upwards we went. Eventually our
perseverance paid off and we saw a welcome track
marker. Along the track about 100 metres and it
starts to go downhill again. We stumble out onto
the river bed to see where we were downstream
about an hour ago. Guess who’s there? That’s
right, Steve and Luc had caught up to us. Worse
still, they easily managed a river crossing. Oh, the
shame!
With much relief, we arrived at the hot pools.
Tents were hastily erected, and the real business
of dinner, relaxing and drinking began. Some abstained, some had a quiet tipple, and Luc and Ben
drunk everyone’s leftovers as well as their own.
The tramping purists in the other pool might not
have appreciated our music, but we had a great
time. Slowly the number of people in the pool declined until the last was Ben, who stumbled off to
bed at seven am.
The morning dawned clear but none of us saw
it, as we prepared for a leisurely 11:30 departure. There’s nothing quite as good as putting on
wet boots, socks and gaiters in a hot pool, even
if you know you’re going to have a river crossing two minutes after you leave camp! The mood
was cheery for everyone except Ben, who was not
maintaining his fast pace from the day before,
probably because the alcohol in his bloodstream
was weighing him down. We reached the cars just
before the rain, congratulating ourselves on another great tramp.
73
Mt Winterslow
– 1700 m above NAP
by Geerdink
September 12
Yesterday was my first tramp. And according to
Kiwi-tradition I was wearing polypropylene clothes
and a fancy hat. The day started after some trouble waking up at 7:30 on the USCA car-park. After
waiting for Ben, the leader, we could leave with
about 25 people to the mountain. The ride was
a lot of fun already and I’m still amazed the car
made it through all the mud and up the hill to the
start of our “track”.
For your information: Kiwis don’t use tracks. They
just walk up the mountain the shortest way possible. So you can imagine it is quite steep. Some
Germans already had trouble in the beginning. At
the first resting point we had a nice view over the
Canterbury plains. They are as flat as the Netherlands, so I can feel a little bit at home living here.
We could also see some higher mountains that
were further away, and I was fearing we would not
see the snow today. Luckily that was not the case,
and during lunch we were already in the snow.
After lunch we could walk through a lot of snow
which was really nice and quite deep in fact. Then
we reached the top. Here I took a picture with my
favorite tool so far: the ice-axe. A very useful tool
in all terrain. I met a girl from Wageningen who
was also on the top of this mountain. What a small
world we live in, don’t we Lieske? After this Sylvia showed us the real mountain pose (right one).
Then people took all kinds of crazy pictures which
I do not have yet....
Then it was a looooong way down again and I was
getting pretty tired. A lot of people went to a bar
afterwards. People in our car didn’t which I didn’t
really mind in fact. I slept almost all the way back
home. Today I’m a little sore, but nothing major
luckily. I’m already looking forward to the next
tramp!!!:D
75
St James Walkway
– 66 km
by Mhairi Brown
September 2 - 4
Trampers: Paul, Kurt, Darren, Matt, Sylvia, Jana,
Patrick, Craig, James, Mhairi.
After a speedy Countdown shopping trip on Thursday afternoon, we set off for Lewis Pass, leaving the sunshine behind and entering the storm.
Whose idea was this again? There were 10 of us
tramping, and we stopped in Culverden for a prehike energy dinner - fish & chips. Mhairi took some
slaggings for ordering hers with salt and vinegar,
an essential part of fish & chips in Scotland, but
obviously not a Kiwi tradition. The takeaway shop
might not be first choice for CUTC trips next time
though - Sylvia felt pretty sick later on that night,
and last time Patrick was there he was given sugar
instead of salt (“sweet as…”) - maybe they were
trying to give him dessert and main course in one
go.
After leaving one car at the end of the Walkway,
we all piled into two cars and drove back to the
start. As the rain continued to fall, we debated
whether driving to Maruia Springs, stocking up on
alcohol, and spending the night in the hot pools
might be a better option. “Get hard” as the Kiwi’s
would say… So we put on the waterproofs and our
head torches, and started tramping around 7pm
(good effort to those who were wearing shorts by
the way). The entry in the starting log book of
“Darren + 9 others” was to continue throughout
the trip - he was either lazy or had no idea of how
to spell my name… or both.
We took about 2 ½ hours to reach the first hut
(Cannibal Gorge Hut), by which time the snow
was falling, and Sylvia was definitely cursing the
fish and chips. Stubborn as I am, I was definitely glad Patrick had bought batteries for my borrowed headlamp - although I’m sure it would have
been a fun challenge to hike in the dark. Everyone
76
was pretty knackered, so we headed to bed for a
good night’s sleep… well, that was the plan. Jana
couldn’t handle Darren’s snoring in one room so
she transferred to the other, where Kurt was talking in his sleep. I’m not sure which she preferred,
but there were suggestions Darren should sleep
outside the next night.
8am was the departure time set for Friday morning, and at 7:59am we were all outside - a damn
good effort for such a big group. The first couple
of hours led through snow on easy level ground,
and soon enough the sun came out and the hats
and gloves were taken off. Sylvia was back to her
happy smiling self and Jana hadn’t even started
to complain yet - does that mean something was
wrong? ;-) At the first rest stop (Ada Pass Hut), it
appeared that the “49 cents per pound” combination of nuts and raisins had been spotted by a few
people. However, another debate - was it cheaper
to buy them already mixed, or to get them separately and mix it afterwards??? Patrick had gone
for the fancy option with two different types of
nuts and raisins, but then he’s working full time so
he should be able to splash out on snacks I suppose.
Reaching the great summit of Ada Pass at 998m
was a definite highlight, although it did come as a
bit of a surprise as we hadn’t even climbed a hill
to get there. Lunch in the sun by Christopher Hut
was followed by another four hours tramping in
the afternoon. This part of the track followed the
river in an open valley area, passing wild horses and cattle. It was a beautiful section, and we
were definitely lucky to be enjoying it in the sunshine. Everyone was pleased to reach Anne’s Hut
by 5pm, which was a good effort at a fairly quick
pace all day. Mhairi was pretty keen to prove her
theory that tramps usually take about two thirds
of the time that DOC suggest. Despite wet firewood, Darren and Matt can take credit for getting
TROG 2004
ing to fall again. Before we left to
head back to Christchurch, somebody
asked who was writing up the trip.
There wasn’t much enthusiasm until a
bar of chocolate was suggested, so I
eagerly requested the task. All in all, it
was a great couple of days with a fun
group of people. Definitely worth doing if you haven’t done it, but please
don’t take the suggested five days…
the only challenge then would be not
getting bored. Cheers guys!
a decent fire going… well, decent enough to burn
Kurt’s socks anyway!! We wondered if he was trying to get the prize for silly tramper of the year,
or if the burnt socks might be the winning prize.
Although dinner was cooked according to the car
we came in, we all had pretty much the same… a
standard tramping meal of pasta, sausages, vegetables and a cheese sauce… mmm, a well earned
meal after all that walking. It was SO worth carrying in the bottle of red wine to go with our car’s
meal though. Dinner over, the card games began
- Presidents & Scums, or is it Kings & Arseholes?
I’ve no idea what the real name is, but apparently
it means being totally mean to anyone is perfectly acceptable. Darren looked far too happy being
president though, so we relegated him to scum
when he got too comfortable.
Saturday morning was a bit harder to get out of
the sleeping bags, as it had been clear and frosty
overnight, and a few aches and pains were being
felt. There seemed to be a theme going with chronic knee problems - the toll was up to 5 people at
this point and we still had a full day to go. I felt a
bit left out. Still, we were on the track by 8:20am
after putting back on the soaking wet boots… always a favourite part of a good tramp. Kurt led us
through the snow up to Anne’s Saddle, at a staggering height of 1136 metres. We had lunch at
Boyle’s Hut around 12:45pm, after covering 15km
(which DOC suggested would take 7 hours) in just
over 4 ½ hours. Good going team… ;-)
The afternoon was quite long, following a bush
track through the forest for most of the way. Stopping to take off the packs seemed dangerous in
case we didn’t get going again, so we just kept
moving! From a really impressive distance, Sylvia’s super-power eyes spotted the swing bridge
that signaled less than 2km to the end of the track
- seriously, I’m not sure if she could actually see
it, was hoping she could see it, or was just trying to be extra positive! It was definitely nice to
reach it though, and shortly later we were at the
car. Perfect timing because the rain was just start-
Quote of the year: Mark Hooker to Jo Schaab “I
don’t pay for sex, I’M the hooker!”
– On the subject of sex with flat-chested gymnasts.
E-mail subject title of the year: Steve Pawson “Oh
I do like a dirty hole once in a while.”
– CUTC’s expert caver gives an expert double entendre.
Wild Goose Chase competition: Californian singer-songwriter Garett Brennan wrote a song called
“Scroggin on the Dusky”. The first one to find this
song on the Internet wins 150ml of scroggin left
over from Garett’s Dusky Track adventure some
years ago.
Hint: the last line of the song refers to dancing at
The Ranch in Te Anau.
Rain.
It rained and rained and rained
The average fall was well maintained,
And when the tracks were simply bogs
It started raining cats and dogs.
After a drought of half an hour
We had a most refreshing shower,
And then, a most curious thing of all
A gentle rain began to fall.
Next day but one was fairly dry,
Save for one deluge from the sky
Which wetted the party to the skin,
And then, at last - the rain set in.
Anonymous
77
The Snow Frog
– Mt Oxford
by Marcel Lancelle
August 15
I’m a German student. It’s my third trip with the
tramping club.
We are sitting in the car on the way to Mt Oxford
now. The original destination had been postponed
on the last meeting due to extraordinary high avalanche risk.
Yesterday was a beautiful warm day in Christchurch. Now it’s raining. The whole day. Half of the
participants were smart enough not to turn up this
morning. Now there’s the five of us arriving at the
car park. Although we can’t see much due to the
dense clouds, I do understand now why there is
not such a high probability for avalanches here.
CUTC Small Children’s Activity Corner:
1. Cut out frog along the dashed lines shown.
2. Find dead frog.
3. Super-glue cut-out section to surface of dead
frog.
4. You now have your very own Happy Snow
Frog!
NOTE: Happy Snow Frogs should be stored at -5
degrees Celcius or colder at all times.
We start quickly on our muddy path. On the way
up the rain turns into snow. My boots aren’t the
best and my feet are already wet. I can also wring
out my gloves.
As we reach the tree level, a fresh wind joins us.
It’s still quite a bit to the top and we can’t see
much anyway, so we decide to turn around. But
first, someone wants to build a snow man. Or a
snow duck.
I am not very warm and prefer watching the others
gathering snow to a small hill. Strange technique
to build a snow man, I think. My companions see
that a duck may be easier to construct but during
work someone decides it looks like a frog, so they
finish a frog. Amazing, but let’s go, I’m cold!
Considering the early time of the day, we decide
to follow another path with a sign ‘waterfalls’ on
the way back. The track gets much worse, very
muddy. We fight our way through the dense bush,
above or below fallen trees and jumping over small
rivers.
Now there’s the bigger one belonging to the waterfalls. It’s not very deep so we decide to cross
it. While I still wonder if it’s a good idea to get wet
in this situation, the others are already walking
through the river.
Kim helping to sculpt a snow frog on Mt Oxford. Photo by Marcel.
78
We reach a better track on the other side which
leads to the waterfalls. They must be beautiful,
but we don’t care now and take the other direction
leading to the car. A couple of times more we get
some fresh cold water in our boots. It is still snowing heavily as we reach the car.
TROG 2004
Mt Oxford
– 1350 m above NAP
by Geerdink
October 3
This weekend was nice and easy compared to last
weekend. No excessive drinking and no waking up
at strange places.... Friday we watched two movies. Brother Bear and something else. I fell asleep
during Brother Bear. I didn’t miss much, as my
flatmates told me afterwards. Saturday we played
cricket in the garden of a student flat close by,
and I went to the gym. Strange figures are on the
bench press here, so I don’t know how much I’m
pressing. In the evening watched rugby (Canterbury won!!!!) And K-1 kickboxing. Remy Bonjanski knocked out Akebono; a 400+ pound sumo.
So he’s qualified for the world championships in
Tokyo. Peter Aerts and Ernesto Hoost also qualified. Afterwards I watched Starship Troopers 2.
Not worth mentioning actually.
Sunday was the tramping day. We met at the carpark at 9, which was in fact 8 o’clock because of
the daylight saving. And we drove to Mt Oxford.
Sylvia’s car has a fantastic gadget: an alarm goes
off if you go above 100 km/h. Unfortunately this
cannot be turned off, so we had to listen to it all
the way to Mt Oxford. When we arrived at the
parking place, Mount Oxford didn’t look very high.
After walking for a while, the top of the mountain
didn’t seem to get much closer. We had a little
break to eat some snacks. This is the group. The
girl with the big eyes is Sylvia. We also had a nice
view of the plains and Christchurch. Christchurch
is at the horizon, below the smog (yes there is
smog in New Zealand).
We walked a bit further and reached some snow.
This was a great opportunity to ambush the rest
of the group after running up the hill a bit. This
slowed the walk down quite a lot, but made it much
more fun!!! After a while we could finally see that
we were almost there! We had lunch at the top.
From here we had a nice view to the ridge of the
mountain. In the southeast we saw the Port Hills
and in the southwest we saw the higher mountains of the Southern Alps region (I hope this is
true btw. I don’t know for sure). On the top we
had a big snowfight and were almost ambushed
by the girls. Luckily, we saw them in time and
could attack them from the relatively unprotected
rear. We defeated the girls and drove them off the
mountain. The boys ruled the Mt Oxford summit
big-time!!!!
the girls at a quick pace. After the long walk we
reached the car again, where we suffered from the
vicious attacks of nasty sandflies. These are some
kind of really small flies that bite like mosquitoes.
But they are quite slow and easy to kill. We had a
beer in the pub nearby, bare footed and covered in
mud and sweat we were welcome guests here.
OTHER THINGS THAT ARE AS USELESS AS THE
EDITORS OF TROG 2004:
1. Non-Stick Sellotape
2. Solar Powered Torch
3. Black Highlighter Pen
4. Glow in the Dark Sunglasses
5. Inflatable Anchor
6. Smooth Sandpaper
7. Waterproof Sponge
8. Waterproof Teabags
9. AC Adaptor for Solar-Powered Calculators
10. Fireproof Matches
11. Fireproof Cigarettes
12. Battery Powered Battery Charger
13. Motorbike Seatbelt
14. Handpowered Chainsaw
15. Inflatable Dartboard
16. Silent Alarm Clock
17. Pedal-powered Wheelchair
18. Braille Driver’s Manual
19. Double-sided Playing Cards
20. Helicopter Ejector Seat
We decided to take the long way back, and we
had a nice walk through the bush and mud. Lots
of snow provided us with enough ammo to keep
79
Goat Pass
– 1070 m above NAP
by Geerdink
September 18 - 19
This weekend was my first overnight tramp. Towards the Goat Pass Hut along the Mingha river
and the next day back to the road along the Deception river. 27 kilometres as the bird flies. The
track record was 2 hours and 45 minutes, which
included a five kilometre run on the road. With
our backpack, sleeping bag, food and water for
two days and extra clothes we went to a parking place near Arthur’s Pass village. We started
from the parking place and after 100 metres we
had to cross our first river. Since there are no
bridges you cross the river in the following way:
You grab each others pack and then you just walk
through the river. As we advanced the weather got
worse. Rain, snow and wind opposed us. We saw
the Misty Mountains from The Lord of the Rings
(I think). When we were almost at the top of the
pass, we had a nice view of the canyon we walked
through.
Then we arrived at the hut. Unfortunately there
was no fireplace, so we could not warm ourselves
up. As good and as evil as it went, we tried to get
warm. We had some food and went to bed early.
The next day the weather was very good. Unfortunately my camera refused service and so I had
to steal others’ pictures. We saw a kea flying, but
it was quite far away. But people told me that I
would see more of these parrots on different places in the mountains. The beginning of the track
was very icy and slippery, but as we came below
the frostline, the walking became easier. We had
to cross the Deception river more often, and it became deeper and the current became stronger as
we went further down. We had lunch on a nice spot
next to a side river. After lunch we smelled sulfur
in the air. This means there is a hot spring nearby.
After looking for a while we found the hot spring,
which was in fact not really hot, more warm. We
dug a pool and bathed our cold and wet feet in the
warm water. That was nice. After this we went on
towards the end of the track. All the time we had
marvelous views of the surrounding mountains,
covered in snow. The mountains here have trees
up to and even above the snow levels. It is a great
view and unfortunately difficult to catch in a picture. After the trip I wasn’t so sore at all, so I must
be getting more fit.
80
TROG 2004
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Freshers 2004
Mt Somers, March 20 - 21
Photos by
various,
very talented CUTC
photographers.
82
TROG 2004
Tramping Haiku
by Vince McLeod
A Gore-Tex jacket
Seven hundred dollar boots
I am Lord of All
Morning sun rises
A hard rock is my pillow
I am out tramping
The mountain rises
My spirit rises with it
Oh no! A scree slope!
The sun is shining
Blue sky, beaches of warm gold
Tasman, Holland’s son
Pain, sandflies and mud
Pain, sandflies, mud and more pain
O, this is Dusky
Blisters, broken bones
Sprains and cuts, none affect me
I am well prepared
Food, water and tools
My pack is ready for all
I cannot lift it
Time is meaningless
Radiation burns from screen
I edit the TROG
THE ANALECTS OF CONFUCIUS
Confucius said, “Fine tramping gear and an insinuating appearance are seldom associated with true
virtue.”
When the Master was unoccupied with business, he went tramping, and he looked pleased.
Confucius said, “If the search for riches is sure to be successful, though I should become a groom with
whip in hand to get them, I will do so. As the search may not be successful, I will go tramping instead.”
The Master said, “With coarse rice to eat, with water to drink, and my bended arm for a pillow; I have
still joy in the midst of these things. Riches and honours acquired not by tramping, are to me as a floating cloud.”
Confucius said, “If some years were added to my life, I would give fifty to tramping, and then I might
come to be without great faults.”
1. When Confucius went to DoC, Zan Yû acted as driver of his carriage.
2. The Master observed, “How numerous are the tracks!”
3. Yû said, “Since they are thus numerous, what more shall be done for them?” “Enrich them,” was the
reply.
4. “And when they have been enriched, what more shall be done?” The Master said, “Tramp them.”
83
Pain - A User’s Guide
by Vince McLeod
This article is a light-hearted user’s guide to that
eternal companion of the dedicated tramper we’re talking about pain. This article will look at
some ways that pain can be measured, managed
and avoided so as to maximize the amount of enjoyment you get from your tramping experience.
Pain is the currency of the tramping economy the more you spend, the more reward you get in
terms of enjoyable experiences.
Just as your enjoyment of city life can be maximized by an understanding of the best ways to
spend and save money, so can your tramping experience be maximized by understanding how to
avoid pain while still getting a rewarding tramping experience. This article will examine a scale
of pain, and then go on to suggest ways to keep
yourself down at the lower end of the following
scale.
PAIN SCALE
0
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
X
XXX
Pain free.
Very minor annoyance/discomfort. Have
to check to see if pain is really there.
Minor annoyance/discomfort. Strong
twinges of pain.
Distracting. Relaxation difficult. Pain usually only noticed while resting.
Can be ignored if something exciting/ in
teresting is happening.
Can’t be ignored for more than 15 min.
Can’t be ignored at all, but normal activity
still possible.
Difficult to concentrate. Can function normally, but effort required.
Physical activity limited. Can read and
function with effort. Pain intense enough
to cause nausea and dizziness.
Unable to speak. Uncontrollable moaning
or crying. Near delirium with pain.
Unconsciousness. Pain so intense that the
subject passes out.
This pain scale is a useful reference guide for
communicating your current level of discomfort to
your party members. This will allow the party to
progress at a pace which is not too uncomfortable
for the more pain-afflicted members. A pain scale
score of 4 or higher is probably cause for concern.
X or XXX levels of pain denotes a serious medical
emergency. Please don’t let this happen to you.
84
PAIN - HOW TO AVOID IT
The best way to avoid pain is to plan. The most
important part of the planning stage of any tramp
is making sure to bring enough socks. Packing insufficient sockage before going tramping is like
slicing large strips of skin off your hands before
making a lemon and vinegar salad - a stupendously large mistake, and one easily avoided.
Toilet paper. Going tramping without toilet paper
provides a similar experience to going surfing
down a scree slope on your butt with no surfboard
or pants. The number of people who neglect to
bring this basic piece of pain-evasion equipment
is both astounding and saddening. Unless you’re
tramping somewhere where there are a large
number of warm bodies of water, or your tramping
diet consists entirely of cheese, then you will need
toilet paper. Toilet paper is a member of the Holy
Economic Triumvirate - along with chocolate and
drugs - as something that can be traded for virtually anything else.
This is what will happen to you if you go any
higher than 7 on the Pain Scale - if you’re
lucky!
Get in shape. Few things hurt a tramper more than
being unfit. Being fit is the difference between
getting the best bunk and relaxing in the hut with
a cool beer and swapping cool stories with likeminded people, and lying in a quivering jelly-like
heap halfway up a mountain weeping with frustration and shame at your own impotence. Alone.
Getting fit can be thought of as a pain exchange
market - you experience pain in the gym and on
the footpath, so as to not need to experience it
while on the track. You put away pain in a savings
account, and are rewarded for it by a better experience in the wilderness. Also, cut your toenails.
This might seem so simple as to be stupid but in
terms of return on investment this is one of the
first things you should do.
TROG 2005
Get the right equipment. The discomfort from the poor
fit of a tramping
boot may seem minor in the shop, but
after ten thousand
steps will resemble
a steel vice crushing
your tarsals. An illadjusted pack strap
will feel more like a
sword blade after 12
hours of mountain
climbing. Make sure
these things are organized in advance.
Make sure your underwear
doesn’t
chafe. Again I’m
sounding like your
mother here but
the number of people who neglect to
ensure these things
are in order is maddening.
This guy packed too many drugs and not enough dry socks.
PAIN - HOW TO DEAL WITH IT
Memetic solutions.
Memetic solutions consist of thinking about your
pain in a way that makes it less mentally troubling. Examples include:
Pain is just weakness leaving the body.
United States Marine Corps.
Pain is character building.
Calvin’s dad, from Calvin
and Hobbes.
You need to experience pain in order to
fully appreciate joy.
My grandma/mum/wife, dur
ing various low points of my
life.
Enjoy the pain.
Aikido slogan.
Pain and foolishness lead to great bliss and
complete knowledge, for Eternal Wisdom created
nothing under the sun in vain.
Kahlil Gibran.
All pain is either severe or slight, if slight,
it is easily endured; if severe, it will without doubt
be brief.
Marcus Tullius Cicero
Pain and death are part of life. To reject
them is to reject life itself.
Henry Havelock Ellis
The last three or four reps is what makes
the muscle grow. This area of pain divides the
champion from someone else who is not a champion. That’s what most people lack, having the guts
to go on and just say they’ll go through the pain
no matter what happens.
Arnold Schwarzenegger
For my part, If I’m hurting I like to pretend I’m
a settler fresh from the filth, disease and human
misery that was Victorian London. Ask a friend
who has been to Bangkok to describe it. Doing
these things will help you appreciate where you
are.
Chemical solutions.
Or in the vernacular, drugs. I credit my survival of the Dusky Track to some guys from Utah I
met who gave me some painkillers in exchange
for toilet paper. In the interests of common sense
we recommend over-the-counter painkillers over
heavier drugs such as alcohol, marijuana or ketamine. There are a vast range of painkillers out
there. After years of experience and pain we have
determined that the best painkiller is endorphins.
Go tramping with cool people, have fun, make stupid jokes, breathe the fresh air and relax. That’s
what you’re here for anyway.
85
James Squires Cartoon
– CANTA magazine’s resident cartoonist drew one just for us! First publication!
86
TROG 2005
The Engine Room
– Your TROG Editors at Work in Room 605 of the Old Psychology Building
The following pictures are an unprecedented behind the scenes look into the engine room of TROG
2005 production.
The InDesign-savvy Vince gets the project
off to a flying start.*
Think positive! We will get TROG finished! I
will not have a nervous breakdown!
However, progress soon (predictably) bogs
down.
Creative break, forced by Juliane’s physical
collapse and Vince’s mind finally cracking.
MORE AMAZING FACTS!
TROG 2005 was produced using InDesign v3.0
on a PC running Windows XP SP 2 with an Athlon 2400+ (2.01 GHz) processor and 480 MB
of effective RAM. The size of the files involved
in the process totalled over one GB. Total
alcohol consumption for the two editors came
to about four litres of beer and about 150ml of
hard liquor, for a total of 300ml pure alcohol,
which may not have been enough.
And the better-disclipined of the two is called
in to clean up the mess and finish the job.
This page sponsored by Wilson’s Whisky and Tika Brewery.
* This is complete and utter bollocks.
87
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TROG 2005