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!