Date: 2 June
Distance: 16.5km
Time: 2:15

Yesterday we entered the Old Ghost Ultra, an 85km trail run, traversing the Lyell mountain range. It has been on our list (that endlessly long pipe dream list of events) for a long time, and when the countdown to the opening of entries was ticking down, Gerry and I were both sitting with laptops, ready to click click click, pay $360 each and Bob’s your uncle. It was much easier than I thought to get on the starters list – a list of only 300 participants.

Perhaps we got a bit carried away in the moment of trying to be one (two) of the lucky ones that ‘got in’, but now here we are. Entered, and a bit less than nine months to get ready.

Despite a reasonably good start in March (169km), the following two months were again a hit and miss. We just couldn’t keep it consistent. In April we managed seventeen activities and 197km, and in May nineteen activities and only 139km. Gerry was sick with who knows what, couldn’t/didn’t want to eat for about week, and generally felt unwell. With winter around the corner and the weather challenging to top it off, running was taking a back seat.

But with entries to an event that sounds fantastic in all respects, we decided to celebratenby going out for a run-walk where we haven’t been before. Thinking of venturing into the Otaki Gorge to summit Mount Hector, we soon realised it might be a bit too ambitious for my current fitness state. On top of the trail itself which is about 13-15km one way, and about 1400m straight up the mountain, there’s another 6.3km hike down the gorge road and over a massive slip. All up, the outing would have been nearly a marathon distance, with a lot of elevation, and only nine hours of daylight. It didn’t seem realistic.

So off to Shannon we went for a trip to the three dams in the Tararua Range . We knew about these reservoirs and were curious to see what it looked like. The plan was to drive to the Tokomaro No 3 Reservoir (8km from the Power Station at the bottom), then jog-walk past the Mangahao No 2 Reservoir to the Mangahao No 1 Reservoir, about 9km further into the mountain. But driving past the power station and starting the steep shingles single lane road, we soon decided that we’d rather have a look on foot before attempting it by normal car. There aren’t really turn-around spots and we weren’t sure what the condition of the road would be like.

That meant that we wouldn’t be able to make it to the furthest reservoir, as again, that would result in nearly 40km out and back if we don’t drive half of it to the campsite.

The road was reasonably steep, mostly uphill (490m) for 8km, of which we walked the bulk of it. About two-thirds in, a 1.2km downhill section was most welcome, before heading up again over the last kilometre or two to the reservoir.

The Arapeti campsite is basically just a clearing in the bush, overlooking the dam. No toilet (which I was hoping for, but ended up having to pee in the bush) and no water.  And no shelter, just an information board with photos about the erection of the dam wall. We looked around and walked to a small building, before starting to make our way back downhill.

The road was wet from the recent rain, and cool in the shade, but fortunately the temperature was about 13 degrees C with only a very light to almost no wind. Having said that, the cloud cover changed the mood to ominous. Seeing all the shot gun shells and alcoholic drinks bottles and cans next to the road, didn’t help. Add to that the usual dumping of rubbish, and you have me worried about the types that frequent this road. One such dump site even had photographs strewn in the ditch, while a couch was set alight in another spot with a dirty nappy, amongst the rubbish, still laying in a puddle next to the burned out couch.

We saw three guys on scramblers (off road motorbikes), not together, a girl on a MTB, a fancy new-ish ute, an SUV, a farmer and his wife in a clapped out old ute with a dead pig on the back, a party of two 4WDs, and two boy racer-type utes, on the road. The latter two (4WD and boy racers) being the types you do not want to encounter while on foot on a narrow gravel road. With revving engines, racing up the mountain, one on foot is very exposed with nowhere to go or hide. Sheer drop off in most places makes for a very scary road, especially by vehicle.

Back at the car, safe and sound, we poured coffee from the thermos, and ate some corn cakes with cheese and salami, before heading home. It was still an enjoyable outing despite the somewhat uncomfortable feel of it all. It’s amazing how ones mind can go off on a tangent when the mood (and the weather!) is just right, and you start to look for dead bodies floating in the dirty brown water beneath the dam wall, or a dead tramper next to the road, run over by someone drunk or drugged.

Perhaps I should stop watching crime series or movies. Hehe.