Author: Wouna le Roux

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Cystic fibrosis #27MoreYears fun run

Date: 2 April
Distance: 20km
Time: 2:14

After parkrun in Palmy, followed by a three kilometre walk, we headed home to shower, pack and get ourselves sorted for the remainder of the weekend.

First up was the Kimbolton Sculpture Festival. I was hopeful to be able to create something in time to participate in the exhibition, but alas. Time caught up with me and I couldn’t get it done in time. Better luck next year, maybe.

The festival had lots of vendors including food stalls, but the art exhibition seemed smaller? Maybe just my imagination. While having lunch there (the food truck selling gluten free meals was a good find) it started to drizzle. We didn’t stay long and as we were leaving I poured some coffee from our thermos for the road.

From Kimbolton to New Plymouth is a little over three hours drive. It was already past 2pm when we left, but thought we could still head to the event base when we get to New Plymouth and maybe preregister. This was not to be.

As we were driving the drizzle became more persistent, and by the time we reached Stratford it was raining bucket loads.  At times it was difficult to see the car in front of us, and we had to slow down considerably. The deluge made traveling slow and arduous.

Originally, when Gerry first read of the event, we thought we’d go visit friends and do the event at the same time. But the timing didn’t work out, as they were heading down south the same morning to bike the West Coast Wilderness Trail. They offered their house to us to stay in and left the key with a friend.

At around 6pm we were safety inside the house, dry and sheltered from the rain. We poured the last glass of leftover wine and dished up a precooked meal and salad.

Luckily it was the end of daylight saving (something I am not a fan of), and we had an extra hour before having to get up early for the 8am start.

A persistent drizzle through the night had me worried that we were in for a wet run. According to the weather predictions it was meant to still rain until after 9am, meaning we would run at least the first hour in the rain. When we woke up it was pouring again. Cats and dogs. All we could do was cling to the hope that it would pass soon.

We arrived (not so) bright and early at the event base at Hickford Park in Bell Block shortly after 7am. With an inaugural event you never know how popular it will be and how many runners and walkers will pitch up. Turned out we were the first late entrants and not many to follow. Our ‘bib’ numbers (written on our hands with a permanent marker) were 52 and 53, of which 18 participants were doing the 20km run (the others were entered in the 5km and 3km events). And I thought to myself, here we go again – an out and back next to the sea and only about 20 participants. Same as the Foxton Beach Footprints in the Sand event. Only this one ran along the Taranaki Coastal Walkway, so the path was sealed all the way, as opposed to running on the sand. Theoretically the sealed path should result in a faster time.

While we were waiting around it started to drizzle very lightly. I donned my rain jacket and we walked to the loo which was a few hundred metres away. With ample time to kill we ended up making a second trip to the loo.

The drizzle cleared up, the weather was looking better, it wasn’t too cold, and we decided to leave our rain jackets in the car. We started at the back, but soon passed two runners, and a few kilometres later another. We stayed in this position for the bulk of the run, until we passed another in the last kilometre. The walkway was as busy as always, with bikes, prams, toddlers, scooters, e-bikes, walkers, dogs, as presumably with the improved weather, every man and his dog were out enjoying the outdoors before winter truly sets in.

What I completely forgot about is how undulating the path is. We’ve run and biked it a few times before, but I still anticipated a flatter run. Fickle memory – only remembering the good parts.

I was going okay in the first half. The wind was mostly a side-front wind (meaning the return would be a tail wind), with dark clouds still looming, but no rain. Although it was cool when we started I was soon hot and had to take off my polyprop vest. By about 5-6km, a mist spray made us a wee bit wet, but almost not worth mentioning. We crossed the railway line twice, and in the last kilometre we had the biggest ‘hill’ of all – the path made quite a steep incline to go up and over a big cliff, and repeat on the way back. At Port Taranaki we reached the third and last water spot and turnaround point. They also had bananas which I briefly considered, but they weren’t cut up, and a whole banana is a bit much. We had a bag of jelly jet-planes, so were all good anyway.

After we crested the cliff for the second time on the way back, I started to battle a bit. I suddenly felt short of breath and generally more tired than normal. Plus, I needed to pee, badly. When we reached the Te Henui Walkway and stream again shortly after the Wind Wand, I had to dash for the loo. From there it is about 7km to the finish. During this time, I also saw three 20km walkers, who started 10 minutes after us, coming from the front.

Not used to running continuously for so long, it took some doing to keep going. My pace had slowed down a bit, and all I could think about was to pass each landmark on the way: Todd Energy Aquatic Centre, Honeyfield Fountain, the Light of Land sculpture by Howard Tuffery (the curvy chrome sculpture on the pics), the Wind Wand, the intersection with Te Henui Walkway, with playground and skate park, East End Surf Club, Fitzroy Beach Holiday Park, Waiwakaiho River Mouth, Lake Rotomanu, Te Rewa Rewa Bridge (currently party under construction), and finally the Taranaki Velodrome and Hickford Park back at the finish. A few coffee shops are dotted along the the track (very tempting), as well as other sculptures.

We finished in 13th and 14th place. The weather turned out good – no rain, not too strong wind, and reasonably warm in the end.

Prize giving was only at 1:30pm, so we went home to shower, collect all our stuff, and drop off the key before heading back to arrive more than an hour early. A BMX race was happening next to our event, so we strolled over to watch some of it. It was also a good opportunity to buy some chips there, as the cart at the running event had packed up already.

We both got a spot prize (I think everyone did), which made the stay worthwhile. It is a good new event on the calendar, organised by two people involved with Cystic Fibrosis NZ’s Taranaki branch, with help from volunteers. Organising events is hard work, and it would be a shame if it didn’t become an annual institution.

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Footprints in the Sand – Foxton Beach nearly half marathon

Date: 12 March
Distance: Half marathon/20k (we measured 20.9k)
Time: 2:26.44

High tide was at 7am. The event started at 8am. Running out-and-back on a beach is challenging; and running on a beach with an incoming tide that gets progressively worse as the hours tick by, just added to the challenge. But that was all still perfectly fine.

From our house to the event is about a 50-minute drive. We decided to not preregister, as it seems to have become a case of if the event gets cancelled for whatever reason, you simply lose the money you paid upfront. Or most of it  So we’re now at the point where we rather pay more, but register/signup as late as possible. This is as terrible for me as a participant, as it is for the organisers as they can’t plan ahead. But this is the situation we’re at with events at the moment. With the task of still having to register, we had to leave extra early, and therefore had to get up extra early. On top of a few glasses of wine and a way too fatty roast the night before, this wasn’t easy. We had breakfast, Gerry made some coffee for the road, and we were off.

We’ve done this event before (two or three times?), and each time we’re only a few handfulls of participants in the half marathon. This time I counted 23, which included a single walker.

It was overcast and a cold wind was blowing as we signed up, and I decided there and then that I will keep my polyprop vest on top of two shirts. And still I was cold. All participants walked down to the beach for race briefing before the start.

It is now ten weeks since we started running regularly in an attempt to be ready for the 100 mile event in December, and it has been a struggle. The older I get the harder it is. But running 20k on your own, is hard, so doing it with others is far more enjoyable. Even if you run by yourself the whole way. Not that we are ever by ourselves, as Gerry and I always run together. But even so, I prefer doing it as part of something bigger, where you get to see other runners, even if only at a distance.

This specific event was one of those where I have no doubt that everyone ran negative splits. The cold wind was actually blowing a gale, coming nearly straight from the front. I was rowing and fighting and forcing myself forward, gasping for breath and thinking I’m going at a reasonable clip, only to find out my pace was nearly 7:30/k. I was hoping to average a 7min/k pace, but the main goal was to finish and jog the whole way, even if it was very slow. The seven and a half pace was perfectly fine – just surprising, as it felt like I was going much faster. Ideally I should be doing my long runs at a 7:30/k pace, even if that feels like a waste of time.

Fighting with a headwind for 10.5k was something else. I’m not fond of the wind at the best of times, but having to run into it, was just awful. Of course I could have run in Gerry’s slipstream, but that would have been cheating. Plus, facing adverse conditions builds gumption and character, right? After what felt like an eternity, we finally reached the turnaround point. I suddenly realised that the little stream we used to cross/jump in previous years, must have closed up as it wasn’t there anymore.

And boy was I glad we got to halfway and were heading back. Of course that same headwind was now a tailwind, making running infinitely easier. It didn’t take long before I was too warm and had to take off the polyprop. Quite amazing how having the wind in you face or in your back makes such a huge difference to the perceived temperature.

Happy to be over halfway and with a tailwind, we were going well. I was obviously fatiguing, still going slow-ish with running on the sand and all, but it felt much easier than on the way out. I kept thinking to myself that every kilometre done is one less to walk. Luckily I managed to run the whole way.

Despite being more fatigued on the second half, our splits were 1:17 for the first half, and 1:09 for the second half. It’s astonishing what a difference wind can make.

Relieved to be at the finish, we had a drink and time to catch up with some friends. The nicest part of this outing was all the familiar faces. Not that there is anything to fault about the event. It is well organiser, with water points at 2.5k, 5k and at the turnaround at 10.5, and of course you pass them again on the way back. Heaps of spot prizes (I’m pretty sure everybody got one), a fundraiser sausage sizzle for the fire brigade, and coffee cart. With a schools event, a 5k and 10k options, there were about 200 participants all up.

Unfortunately the weather plays a huge part in this event, and more often than not, the wind is a factor. Also, the beach is an open road, meaning there are cars and quad bikes, scramblers, and other nasties to look out for. It still takes me by surprise that people are allowed to drive on NZ beaches. Are there no living animals on the beaches here? No ecological damage cause by driving on beaches and in the sand dunes? Nevermind the fact that people can be run over!

You can tell – I’m not a supporter of beach driving. 🙂

Happy to have achieved my goal of running all the way, we made the trip back home for leftover lunch.

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It rained cats and dogs – Jumbo-Holdsworth trail run, Powell Hut volunteers

27-28 January 2023

As we were packing the car for the trip to Holdsworth carpark, it started to drizzle. The weather forecast for the weekend looked horrendous, and I thought the event might be cancelled before we even leave Palmy.

Ross and Kati decided to join us for the trip to Powell Hut, and we arranged to meet at the carpark. Our plan was to leave at about 12pm, meet them at 13:30, and walk the three odd hours to the hut.

The drizzle persisted on the drive there and as we started walking it just got worse. There was no wind and things started off reasonably hot, despite the drizzle. My sweat did not evaporate and after a few kilometres of walking uphill, I was soaking wet, both from being rained on and sweat. By the time we reached the Mountain House Shelter, we had to don rain jackets. The higher up we went, the thicker the mist (clag), and the bigger the raindrops.

As always, I’m surprised at how steep the last couple of kilometres are to the hut. After about 3:20 hours we reached the hut, wet and chilled. We went for one of bigger rooms, and changed into dry clothes before having some nibbles and drinks. As last time, Kati and Ross had a spread of note, to be washed down with some red wine. Unfortunately we only had olives and corn chips to add to the snacks.

Steve and Carol were already there as the other pair based at the hut, as well as Tony who was the lucky winner of the trig marshal spot, where we were based previously.

We poured a tipple just as Suzanne arrived. She volunteered as the first aider on the ridge between Powell Hut and part of the ridge, while another medic would be handling the other half of the ridge towards Jumbo Hut.

A few other people were also based at the hut: a pair of older friends, a mum with kids, and young hikers. We were all safe and warm inside the hut, while it was cold and super wet outside. No respite in the rain and every time you had to make a dash for the longdrop, you cussed a little.

Our party became more rowdy as the others all started going to bed. At some point Kati checked her phone, when the news arrived of a totally flooded Auckland Airport. In fact the whole of Auckland was flooded. The rain pelted down at 71mm per hour, more than ever before, and caused widespread carnage: cars were floating down the road, slips wiped out houses and left others teetering over the edge, numerous houses and businesses flooded, and thousands were left without power. Four people had died (drowned), and the forecast did not look favourable for the coming days.

I was almost certain the race would be cancelled. But having said that, two years ago we marshalled in similar wet, poor visibility and windy (less than this time) conditions on the ridge, except the temperatures were below zero from the snow the days before the event. It was one of the coldest outings of my life, and yet the race went ahead and everyone arrived safe back at the bottom where the weather was infinitely more favourable.

During the night it kept on raining. Not super hard, but consistent and at times a little bit harder. Little streams started to form on the path to the loo, and the wind started to pick up a bit.

At about 2am, another mum and daughter arrived. I was mostly still awake (couldn’t sleep for some reason), and contemplating the fact that I have to get up and make a dash for the longdrop in the dark, cold and wet weather to go pee. We were sleeping on the top bunkbed, and getting out of the sleeping bag and putting on extra layers was noisy. Suzanne, Kati, Ross and us shared the one room, and I thought we’d wake them all up.

But out and back in my cosy sleeping bag, after some more noise, I felt infinitely better. Finally I could sleep.

In the morning, Gerry made some tea to have with rusks, while we were all nervously waiting for the radio to crackle into action informing us that the race was called off. But still the call didn’t come.

Getting ready for the first arrivals, we put on thermals and puffers, beanies, buffs, rain jackets and rain pants. We sorted the camera, and I took shelter in the wood shed, ready to shoot some runners. With the clag, rain and generally poor conditions for photos, I wasn’t hopeful, but figured I might at least capture something of the action and drama as it was unfolding on the porch of the hut.

Kati and Ross decided to pack up, have breakfast, and head down. They had heaps to do before moving back to South Africa later that week.

Like wet chickens the first runners started to arrive. Using a stopwatch, Gerry was taking their times while Carol recorded their numbers. Some put on more layers, others filled up their water flasks, before heading further up the mountain to the ridge where Suzanne and Tony were. By now they had some time on the top to evaluate the situation. And taking a walk in the gale and sleet, Suzanne opted to make the call that the race be called off. It was dangerous in the super wet conditions to traipse along the ridge in gale force winds.

Quite a few runners had gone past us already, but all the new arrivals were informed to turn around. While some seemed relieved, others were disappointed. A few decided to hand over their race numbers and carry on at their own risk. The ones that had gone past the hut, were turned around by Suzanne and Tony. The runners going the other way around were turned back at Jumbo Hut.

It was over. The year that wasn’t meant to be.

We made a last cup of coffee, packed up and started heading down the mountain. Suzanne followed suit, and caught up with us within the first couple hundred metres. With everything being wet, puddles of water and some mud, we took the first very steep section slowly. Back at the Mountain House Shelter, we had a quick break and a bite to eat, before continuing down the mountain.

By the time we reached the event finish line (surprised that it took me 2:30) we were soaked to the bone. Gerry bought coffee at the cart, we had some event food, and walked the final few hundred metres back to the car. Gerry drove up to the toilet, we chatted to Salome and her friend Matt, swapped our wet clothes for dry ones, and drove back home.

Our cat, which I was worried about was of course perfectly fine and happy to be high and dry inside the house the past 28 hours, instead of fending for food and shelter in the wet stormy weather.

I started this post with a long report on our stray cat, but thought I’d rather stick to the mountain and event itself. But for the record, the story of the cat is as follows.

We have a stray cat. Actually we were feeding several in the first half of 2022 as I thought that might keep them from catching birds. Not sure if it helps, but that was my theory. Occasionally there would be a cat fight on the porch in the middle of the night, and before we could get out of bed and turn on the light to inspect what was going on, they would be gone.

At the time I was working as a trapper and we had just bought new field cameras for work. Doing some trials and testing them out was a great opportunity to see what was going on. We saw possums (multiple!) hang out around our Good Nature trap, every night, but they would avoid it like the plague. We’ve had that trap for about 8 years, locked and loaded, and it is yet to kill any pests.

After a few nights of watching possums, we decided to see what was going on on the porch at night. Turns out we were feeding three stray cats, and occasionally more than one would come for a feed at the same time causing a fight. But one of them outplayed the others and decided to move in.

I was worried about it being a girl and pregnant as it had huge boobs, and at other times I worried about a boy going chasing after girls and making more babies, worsening the cat problem. But then a vet friend came to visit and put our minds at ease – it was a boy and it had been neutered.

This stray cat is a rather big grey cat. It chose us, and started getting friendly with only us. When it hears an unfamiliar voice, it would run and hide under our bed. It spent most days on our couch or on the bed, and at around 8pm it would usually go outside for a galavant. Between two and four am it would meow outside, wanting to come back in. It felt like having a baby in the house – we would take turns to let it out and get back in again, often more than once during the night.

This has been going on for about nine months. Sometimes we might have to go away, having to lock it out. Early on we had to go away for a month, but after our return, Mr Cat returned on the second night, hovering by the door. The last time we had to go away for only one night, kitty got all anxious, following us around the house, looking nervous and not wanting to go outside. Eventually we had to boot him out and close the door. Poor bugger.

This time, he again detected that something was up, and decided to sneakily hide in the far corner under the bed. I checked under the bed and called minutes before, when Gerry had one last look, only to find kitty hiding. Perhaps he knew what was coming weather wise, but I felt sorry for him and decided to let him be. With enough food and water to last him a few days, we locked him inside and were off on our marshalling trip. We were only away for a bit more than a day, and he probably hardly noticed we were gone. However, we need to put in a cat flap or something, so that Mr can come and go as he pleases.

Another item on the never-ending to-do list.

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The UTK (Ultra Trail Kosciuszko) that wasn’t

I thought perhaps I should just write a follow-up about our plan to run the 100 mile event in 2022.

Maybe because it is a new event and to entice participants into entering super early (it worked!), the event had the option to carry over your entry at no cost to the next year should you not be able to do it for whatever reason. And back doors are dangerous – when there’s a back door, one is almost guaranteed to take it.

In our defence we did try. We started with a bang and were doing very well for a few months, slowly building up fitness. Then my mum got sick, and we had to make the trip back to the motherland. Travelling around the world, and back and forth between our families for more than a month, took its toll. What was meant to be a crucial time in our buildup, ended up being a next to no training month. Coupled with all the stress of travelling, missing a connecting flight due to a stuff up by Qantas with the first flight, and having to postpone everything by a week, rearrange and rebook everything, eventually arriving without luggage, the stress of a sick parent, and the list goes on, training was the absolute last thing on my mind. Plus, that back door was wide open.

Arriving back, exhausted, to horrible weather (it seems to be getting worse) – non-stop wind and sideways rain – our enthusiasm for the inaugural event was all but gone. So we made the call to transfer our entries to this year. It is not a good decision to have to make. One’s self-esteem takes a knock and you feel like a failure.

Following the proceedings leading up to the event on FB, I was met with a mix of FOMO and relief. It was snowing up in the mountain in the weeks leading up to, and still a few days out from, the event and it started to look like the compulsory gear would have to be next level. Some lack of communication and other hick-ups by the organisers – GPX files were not made available and final course maps were not shared until the last minute, perhaps because the course had to be changed TWICE due to snow and safety of runners, details about aid stations, drop bags, pacers, support crew, etc – resulted in participants getting anxious and angry. Tonnes of entries were sold off and transferred, and things were looking to be in a bit of a shambles. At the same time, those who stuck to it could boast to be hardcore, have grit, and able to deal with whatever life throws at them. Ultimately, I suspect the course routes need some serious rethinking and replanning for the years to come.

But, fingers crossed, we can get our act together and line up at the start end of this year. We bought a new watch. The Suunto 9 Peak Pro to replace the old one of more than eight years. It was time. And with new gear comes renewed enthusiasm. We have a rough idea of what we need to do, and where we need to be with our training each month. The overall aim is to get out the door six days a week, to build up slowly, never to skip the long-run, walk heaps, and do the occasional speed session. On top of that, we have to start focusing on strength training and flexibility. My buggered hips and misalignment need all the help they can get.

To 2023! May it be a good year for health and fitness.

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Familiarity in unfamiliar area – Rangiwahia hut

Date: 27-28 December 2022

Distance: 15km

Usually Gerry and I would go on a hike (tramp) for Christmas and/or New Year’s. The days rounding the old and the new years are when we prefer to be in the mountains, to be in nature, a change from the usual day-in-day-out. This became even more important, a necessity almost, the past 13 years since we moved to a different country without any family with whom one might normally spend Christmas and/or New Year’s. Nature and the mountains is a way to get closer – to something, to everything.

But for some reason we didn’t make any plans this year. Gerry was meant to work until the 20th, but then got COVID, which ultimately threw a spanner in the works. Suddenly we had to isolate, catchups with friends were cancelled and a damper was placed on everything. The focus turned from making holiday plans and celebrating Christmas in the mountains, to being by ourselves and getting better.

At a dinner party with friends at the beginning of December we got invited to go along on a tramp to a Ruahine hut on a well trodden path, a hut we’ve been meaning to visit for the past few years. It was a little bit north from where I used to work as a trapper in the Ruahine mountain in the first half of 2022. The hut is known to be frequented by families with kids, so an easy walk. Yet, Gerry was just a few days past his self-isolation phase and still quite short of breath, and our training over the past few months had been nearly non-existent. But knowing that it is an easy walk, we figured it should be doable.

I made some stir-fried rice with onion, green pepper and zucchini on the morning, which we carried along for dinner at the hut that night, just to make things a bit simpler. Supplemented with biltong (and a host of snacks), we were definitely not going to go hungry. 

From our house to the trail head is about an hour and a half’s drive. We had a late start and met up with Ross and Kati in Ashhurst, meaning we only reached the carpark around 2pm.

The walk is not very technical, but like most other tracks on the eastern side of the mountain, when you set foot out of the car you start going straight up. A few sections with stairs made it easier than many Ruahine tracks as there are at least no step-ups the height of my hip to get over rocks, or spots where I needed to hang onto grass or trees while sliding down or clambering up little muddy sections – this was everyday fare while servicing traps. And for a change we also didn’t start the walk by crossing a river or stream resulting in wet feet for the whole hike, as was the case with almost all the traplines I worked on.

Walking through the forest, shaded by the trees on a sunny warm day, the track looks like any other track in the Ruahine. After passing a massive slip via a detour above it, shortly after halfway, we reached the Rangiwahia bridge which crosses the Rangiwahia gorge/river. The bridge is very high above the river and one can only hope it is still sturdy after 35 years.

It took us 1:45 to reach the hut a bit before 4pm. It is a 13 bunk (very small rooms), bookable hut, with a wood burner, long-drops, and rainwater running to an enclosed sink basin area on the side of the hut.

We met up with another couple, Gabi and Brendan, at the hut, and the six of us immediately started laying out a spread of note on one of the picnic benches outside in the sun. Pickles, olives, cheeses, sundried tomatoes, hummus, liver pate, sausages, chicken and crackers. Even Swiss Roll (apparently known as Waikato cake in NZ) and Ferrero Rocher for dessert. And this was just pre-dinner snacks!

Afterwards Gerry and I went for a little stroll around the area to check out the lay of the land. We went past the two longdrops and two more small sheds, past the woodhouse, and then bundu-bashed our way through the vegetation to get onto the Deadmans Track a few metres above the hut. We were keen to follow Deadmans Track on day two back to the car, so wanted to see how rough the track underfoot might be. It looked well frequented, so the only thing potentially holding us back, would be bad weather.

On the way back, we passed two lookout points with benches facing west with views over Mt Ruapehu, Mt Ngaurahoe and Mt Taranaki. Back at the hut we poured a tipple and had a yarn while the sun started to set, and the temperature dropped. Although we had clear views over the mountains the wind was unpleasantly strong and cold. Gerry heated our rice dish and we had dinner outside regardless, followed by some Christmas cake, tea and chocolate.

Afterwards we made fire inside the hut for some much needed warmth. It was 6 or 7 degrees, so nothing extreme, but a warm hut is infinitely more cozy than a cold one. After a few cups of tea, and some more chocolate, we retired to bed at about 10pm.

Ross and Kati decided to camp outside in a tent, while we shared a room with Gabi and Brendan. In the other room were two families with children, and one of the men also slept outside on the porch. He had a tent up earlier in the evening, but it wasn’t the type that could withstand strong winds, so it would probably not have made it through the night.

The hut was warm from the fire. I was almost too hot early on and had to take off some layers. The drips and drabs of clothing I chucked under my head to serve as a cushion, was uncomfortable. I couldn’t find sleep, and was tossing and turning, watching the flickering of the fire against the wall, while the wind got progressively worse. I listened as it plucked at the roof and tugged at the windows, trying to find a way in. The chimney was rattling and the noise from the howling wind was unbearable, which didn’t help to induce any sweet dreams.

Wind has always been my nemesis. I can handle most types of bad weather, but I have a particular issue with wind. Perhaps a bad childhood memory aids this phobia, but wind always makes me very anxious and uneasy.

After what felt like an entire night, I finally must have fallen asleep only to wake with a start from a nightmare that I was suffocating. After many more hours listening to the wind and other’s breathing it started to get light, which is when I finally fell asleep properly, and slept like a baby for a couple of hours.

As the hut came to life, Gerry also got up to make some tea to have with our rusks. The weather looked promising, the wind calmed down somewhat, and so we decided to walk via Deadmans Track back to the car, about a ten and a half kilometre trip.

While Gabi and Brendan headed straight back the way they came, Kati, Ross and us took the long way home. It is a lovely walk on the ridges with beautiful views of the mountains east and west, surrounding farms and the plato’s. On a bad weather day, I can imagine it would be a challenging walk. It is very exposed and in a whiteout you might even get lost.

All around Deadmans Loop there are DOC200 box traps placed roughly every 100 metres or so. I’ve always noticed them on tramps, but after my stint as a trapper, I now also have to check them. A new habit. On the way up to the hut a couple of traps were set off, or killed some pest, but along Deadmans Track we saw quite a few stoats in traps. One was reasonably fresh and looked like it was killed just before we arrived. If I had my wrench, I would have cleared and reset them all. A trap at the ready is worth far more than one sitting with a pest rotting away.

Before getting back below the treeline we stopped for a bite to eat. It was still windy, but nothing compared to the night before. The sun was hot, while the easterly kept us cool.

Back in the forest, the track looks just like Shorts and Knights Tracks, and just as quad-bustingly steep a downhill with similar vegetation.

We saw a few other people on the loop (a hunter with two kids, two couples, and a party of four women on various spots along the loop). Towards the bottom of the mountain, I was well aware of my bruised toes against the front of my shoes, and my aching quads from the relentless steep downhill, as well as the sun beating down on us. Sheltered from the wind, it was very hot.

After a bit over four hours we were back at the car park. The weather was typical maritime climate I guess; the kind you need to grow up with to appreciate or handle – in the sun it is too hot, and in the shade it is too cold, and constant wind. So kiwi’s who are used to this, will don short sleeves and shorts. Bit of a toss up for an African camel to decide which way to go, though.

It was a lovely short break away from the usual. And thankfully no mud or wet feat to deal with.

On the way back to Palmy, we were hoping to have lunch at the Apiti Tavern and Eatery. It was unfortunately closed, but the owner was around as a delivery van was dropping off supplies. Another large party who was also hoping to get lunch at the tavern stepped closer to hear the disappointing news, and judged by our long faces the owner kindly offered to open up for drinks (but not food though). After a round of beers with Ross and Kati, we went our separate ways.

Back home I was quite tired. Partly from exposure (not used to it anymore, spending my days indoors), but no doubt also from lack of sleep.

Even though it was just a quick in and out, I’m still glad we managed to get into the mountain. Here’s to more mountain outings in 2023!