Hikes & tramps

by

Jumbo-Holdsworth walk

23 March

As I rolled out of bed barely capable to pull myself upright, I thought about our walk in the Tararua on Monday and how tough and resilient one’s body actually is. As cliched as it might sound, it always amazes me at what one can achieve if you put your mind to it. Where there’s a will, there’s a way. Okay I’ll stop with the cliches for now. 

For a long while we’ve been talking about a walk in the mountains. We haven’t done it in such a long time, and our annual week-long trip over Christmas or New Year also hasn’t happen in a few years. Mainly because of bad weather, but perhaps also just exhaustion by that time of the year. Which is exactly when one should go saunter in the mountains!

With my mum passing away last year, and our trip back to the motherland recently to sort out her things and our affairs there, we were again caught up in ‘life’ and not paying attention to what we really needed. We knew we needed a walk in the mountains, so last week we made the decision to just go do it. At first it was going to be an overnighter, but again, with other commitments and deadlines (oh, how I dread these words) we scaled down to a one-day hike. Of course then one could go anywhere, but we finally decided to do the Jumbo-Holdsworth circuit again. And just as well, as my original plan was to walk to Syme Hut and spent a night there. Unfortunately someone had died on Mt Taranaki at the weekend and a rahui was in place until Monday, meaning we would not have been able to walk there anyway, out of respect for the dead and the mountain.

The last time, we did the Jumbo-Holdsworth circuit as the trail running event, which was eight years ago. Since then, we’ve marshalled at the event a couple of times at Holdsworth peak, and once at Powell Hut, always using the Gentle Annie track to and fro. Including trips to Powell Hut with friends on other occasions, we know that part of the trail very well. 

On Saturday we went shopping for sustenance to do the whole loop on Sunday. But alas, another deadline (tax of all things) meant we were still busy late on Saturday night, and hadn’t packed yet. Fortunately Gerry had leave on Monday so this was going to be the day. Forgive me for feeling like we might ‘bail out’ again, as at that point we had given up on so many events that I would almost be surprised if we did go ahead with it. But luckily we did. Sunday morning first thing, we packed our backpacks, incase something gets in the way again. Being aware of how bad NZ weather can be in the mountains, especially on the peaks, I always pack a bit on the cautious side. Not for when you can still move, but for if something happens and you can’t move. First to go in is always the PLB and a space-blanket type bivvy. I’m also a firm believer in something hot, so our teeny tiny little camp stove with a small gasbottle is also priority. And then come the thermals and down jackets, coupled with wind and rainproof gear (does the latter even really exist?), and of course food. Sometimes I would also throw in the small tent, but according to all the weather predictions, it was going to be a lovely day; sunny, on the cool side (13 degrees at the hottest time), and almost no wind. Sounded too good to be true. Luckily the forecast was spot-on.

Monday morning at sparrow’s fart we were out of bed, Gerry prepared our yogurt, fruit, seed, and muesli breakfast, made a thermos with coffee for the road, and we were on our way. I had my reservations about walking 24km with the reasonably heavy pack over some of the highest peaks in the Tararua, but figured if things go pear-shaped, we can always just turn around and call it quits. But if we made Jumbo Hut in good time still being able to move, and the tops look good weather wise, we would dash over, and then worry about the way down at that point. We even packed headlamps incase. 

With lots of roadworks between us and Masterton, the trip took a wee bit longer than I thought. Also, we got away a bit later than planned. Nonetheless, just before 8am we had a few cups of coffee, breakfast, made a loo stop, signed the intentions book, and could finally start walking. 

Being fresh and just happy to be there, we walked at a reasonable clip. The track was easy and flattish, so we thought we could make up time. We knew that ‘Raingauge’ was an approximately 3km nightmare of an uphill to Jumbo Hut, so tried to do the first 7km to Atiwhakatu Hut in good time. I vaguely remember some of it from our trail run stint through there, but Donnolly’s Flat I wiped from my memory. It is a lovely camping area amongst the trees with fire places, the stream nearly, and longdrops, not far from the car. It would be perfect for people with young kids. 

We followed the Whakatūrākau Stream on our right, crossing numerous little side streams on foot bridges. To the tune of the rumbling water we walked in the forest hearing the song of happy birds and cicadas. A trapline was established along the path, and all the traps were sqeeky clean. The trapper servicing this trapline would have a walk in the park. 

After we reached Atiwhakatu Hut, the track splits off to the Raingauge Spur and Jumbo Hut. Although it is only 2.8km it has a stupidly steep elevation gain of about 850 metres. Each step is knee high and sometimes higher at my length. At some point I noticed to Gerry that I’m very close to the ground. Obviously because with the steepness it felt like the ground was right in front of me, and on occasion I had to drag myself up over tree roots and rocks on all fours. This was very hard on my legs and I knew that I would suffer later on. As we went higher up, the birdlife became less until I could hear no birds at all, and eventually only flies and blowflies.

We reached Jumbo Hut a bit after eleven, and stopped for elevensies – coffee with rusks (which I hastily baked on Friday and dried overnight), a handful of nuts and a liquorice toffee to chew on on our way. Something else I found surprising was the vast number of white butterflies (the kind that ruins one’s vege garden) at the tree line. 

Just before 12pm we were scaling another steep incline to Jumbo Peak. And if you have any thoughts of the ridge being ‘flat’, or even undulating, think again. It is constantly up and down. We did a tonne of steep climbs in the short (5km?) section on the tops, which took about two hours to do. My legs were jelly by then, but I was very happy to be at the Holdsworth Trig. I knew that even if the weather turned to custard, we would be okay. Powell hut was less than 2km away and the track to there is doable even in reasonably strong wind. There’s just one section next to a slip that is a bit dodgy in wind, but for the most part there is no issues.

For the first time all day we encountered some other trampers on the ridge. First two guys who were sitting on a stoney knob when we were passing just below them in a boggy area, followed by another pair of guys, and shortly afterwards a couple on our way up the final steep climb to the trig.

By then the light breeze at the top was a wee bit more than a light breeze, but still really nothing to write home about. It was still sunny and warm enough to walk with a T-shirt (two layered in my case). We made our way down to Powell hut at about 2pm, and found three ladies there, two of whom were sunbathing on the porch. We boiled our kettle for a cup-o-soup, when another solo guy arrived to stay at the hut. Together with the tomato soup we had biltong, corn cakes with Vegemite and Laughing Cow processed cheese. The latter probably being the most hideous of all snacks, but for some reason the thing we always have on hikes. Some nuts and more liquorice toffees and we were ready to start walking down the mountain. We filled half of my water bottle with an electrolyte, to have with our other in-between snacks (dates, marshmallows, Frooze balls). If there’s one thing I’ve learned the past twelve or so years, it is that any ‘endurance sport’ is in fact an eating contest. Keep feeding the beast and it will do anything you tell it to. Haha.

The first bit is a super steep downhill. In previous years, it was a bit of the scramble to get up or down. Maintenance on the track (maybe due to the running event sending hundreds of people around the loop?) has made if far easier to go down/up on stairs, and is also good for the environment. As much as I like a natural incline or decline, lots of foot traffic quickly tramples the ground. And if it happens to be a wet patch, the area being trampled just gets wider and wider. But calling it easy, is a bit generous. These steps (and there were plenty new ones) are huge, and on terribly sore jelly-legs it is tough going. At some point I thought my legs were seizing up; my locked knee would not unlock in time to take the next step! It was agony, but we made it to Mountain Shelter in good time, before following the last (always longer than expected) bit of the track on Gentle Annie, past the Rocky Lookout. The whole track was filled with course gravel, and more new stairs were built to make the trail more accessible. I listened to the crunch of the gravel under my shoes, and thought to myself that there aren’t a lot of trails where you can hear the crunch of your boots as your walk in NZ, or perhaps rather the North Island. Usually it is sloshing and suckling of shoes being swallowed by mud. The sound of my shoes made me think of my birth country where the semi-arid environment usually involved crunching boots on trails. And this made me think of my mother, wondering if she’s watching us.

Back at the car, we put on some dry clothes for the trip home. I was very sore, but very happy. Surprised and delighted at the fact that I managed to walk up and over the mountains with an elevation gain and loss of around 1500m over 24km without any incidents. So many things could have happened, but as my mother always reminded me, a miss is as good as a mile. 

Although it’s been 17 months since we last covered 20+ kilometres by foot (something that weighed heavily on my mind the night before our outing), I’m all keen to start doing this more often again. I miss the suffering – the very thing that makes me feel human and alive. And capable. Getting older is tough as it is, I want to try and postpone the ‘incapable’ part as long as possible.

by

Branch Road and more

Date: 9 November
Distance: 7km
Time: 1:07

It took me a long while to post this. Perhaps because it marked the ‘last straw’ in terms of my fitness levels, or lack thereof – I had to admit to myself that things were not progressing as I had hoped. This was very demoralising. The struggle, for whatever reason, is very real. However, by now it has also started to become a mental thing – if you think you can’t, you can’t. I still believe things will look up sooner or later. But I digress.

A number of years ago when Gerry and I were still organising running events (before COVID left us with no other option than going back to full time employment), we were always on the lookout for new places to host events that could include a wider community. One of the options was venturing into the Pohangina Valley. We scouted a few places in the area, and also walked up Branch Road, a paper road, which looked like it might be a good candidate. However, after walking up the track we didn’t deem it suitable. From memory I think there was a slip, or something looked a bit unsafe, or some or other issue I can’t recall right now. Being a narrow path and a long drive to get there might also have had something to do with it.

In 2022 I started working as a trapper in the Southern Ruahine, and my then boss once stopped at the top of this track, and told me that a local lady organises a walk down Branch Road every year. At the time I did not bring our walk from the bottom up and the start at the top together to realise it was the same track. From the bottom it looked like we were walking on private land, and it felt awkward, like we were intruding, so we never made it all the way up the hill. From the top it looked wild and unkempt, but somehow still inviting, like a good place to go on training runs. But we also never got around to walk/run up or down Branch Road by ourselves or as part of the organised event in 2022 or 2023.

In 2024, when the event was on again, friends couldn’t make it anymore, so they gave us their entries. We arrived bright and early, signed in, and got some sweets and water from the car to take with. Two buses took all of us up the windy road to the start of the track (driving past the home of my ex boss). Most people were walking the event, but we were rushed for time, so decided to run down. Looking at the time it took, including a pee stop, photo taking, looking at the scenery, and trying to be sure we stayed on the trail, we may as well have walked. Although we did arrive first, it wasn’t very long before the first walkers showed up.

The first 1.1 kilometres were run on a new forestry road. What was still an overgrown path a couple of years ago, was now a decent logging road. We encountered a marshal at this point who was still busy putting up signage. We passed him shortly before hitting the ‘single track’. This stretch was quite overgrown with tall grass. With all the rain of late coupled with some warmer days, the grass is out of control at our place. It was the same for this track.

Some permanent sign boards made it reasonably obvious where to go and one shouldn’t get lost, but occasionally we did question which was the right way. We passed some slips and some muddy sections, but overall it was an enjoyable outing. I can absolutely see the locals supporting this year after year.

But …

Shortly after, I got sick again. Almost to the day I had COVID last year. It made me wonder if someone on the bus might have been sick, but of course I could have picked it up anywhere. And again, I was sick for quite a long time. More than a month. And somewhere along the line Gerry also got sick. This meant our running stopped, yet again, for more than a month. It feels like I just cannot catch a break.

After some hemming and hawing, doing the maths, over and over, I had to admit to myself that I would not be able to make the Old Ghost distance in the cut-off times by the event date in February. I have no doubt that I could cover the distance at mostly a walking pace, but it might have taken me twenty-four hours. I noticed from previous results that most runners finish in less than 14-15 hours, something I was likely not capable of achieving. We had to forfeit our entries. It is always such a hard decision to make. But it was the right decision.

Fast forward a few months (!), we followed some of the live coverage of the event at the weekend. It looked amazing. I was jealous of everyone’s fitness and capabilities. It feels like I’m never going to get there again. But since we pulled out of the event at the end of last year, and getting over COVID, we started jog-walking again. We also signed up for the Wilderness Walk1200km, which is an initiative by the Wilderness magazine to get people moving. The aim is to cover about 3.3km every day. I guess the rationale is for people to be active for roughly 30 minutes every day. And so far so good. We are on track, perhaps even a bit ahead of where we are meant to be.

On top of the walking, we also try to jog 5km most days, with a slightly longer run on the weekends. That means we cover 9km most days, and initially I could feel that the extra load set me back a bit. But at some point I should get used to doing that distance, and I should start to improve. I’m convinced of it, although the past five months or so proved otherwise.

I’m still hopeful. I’m still hanging in there.

by

Transcend 40km walk-jog

Date: 22 June
Distance: 40k
Time: 7:52

This is one of those ‘bastard’ events: it is not a marathon distance, but almost, and it is not an official walk-only event as stated on the website, you are allowed to run. Twice (on email and in person) the organiser confirmed that this is a do-what-you-want kind of event. The only issue is that if you run too fast, you might arrive at the aid station before they are set up, as they are timed to cater for the 65km runners.  The latter started an hour earlier than us, some 25km further up the track.

The  unfortunate thing about running at a ‘walking’ event is that other participants who don’t know that this is the case, treat you like a criminal. It is not a sanctioned event and there is no prizes or acknowledgement for participants who placed. It’s just an event. Do what you want, which is fantastic when you’re not super fit, or coming back from injury. The 40km event had 13 hours to finish, while the 65km event had 14 hours.

The 65km trail run is the main event, which we initially wanted to do when we started making plans to go to Perth a couple of months ago, but we soon realised we were in no state to do that. I’ve signed up for ultras when I really shouldn’t have before, and have managed to wing it. In hindsight I was obviously in a better place than is currently the case. I just knew that attempting the 65km was not going to end well.

Apart from the 65km, they included this 40km ‘walk’, a 6km trail run, and a kids dash.

During the week leading up to the event, Gerry attended a conference which ran over three days and four evenings. It started late Monday afternoon, and finished Thursday evening.

As we were staying near the city centre, I didn’t want to drive around on my own, so we decided to walk to and from the University of Western Australia where the conference was held. I opted to sit in the nearby cafeteria and work on my dissertation during the day. This meant that we walked 10km each day, which was better than nothing. There was no time in the day left to go for a run.

On Wednesday night, after the day’s conference proceedings, there was the gala dinner and awards ceremony where Gerry had to take some photos. It was also my birthday, and for the first time in 55 years I was by myself, on the fifth floor of an old block of flats, cooking dinner and having some bubbly. Another first for me – having a drink by myself. I’m definitely much more of a social drinker.

We were hoping to get our mandatory gear checked before the event at the Tribe & Trail shop, which was a 15min drive from our accommodation. Plus we still needed to buy a few things like a ‘specific snake bandage’. We hadn’t even started to think about sustenance for the event.

Tribe & Trail wasn’t open on the Friday, and Gerry was keen to attend the Thursday’s proceedings, so he opted to skip part of the Wednesday afternoon’s talks for us to get the event things sorted. After our gear was checked (our ‘snake’ bandage didn’t pass the test so we had to buy two from the shop at AU$10.50 each), we went for coffee and a huge slice of cake at a nearby beachfront restaurant as a quick birthday celebration.

Friday morning, we did laundry while vacating the flat for the trip to our next accommodation. It was a bit closer (about 2km away) to the event base at the Swan Valley Adventure Centre, and just as well as it took nearly an hour to drive out of the city to the holiday park. I did not envy the local runners who had to make that trip in the morning. Especially the 65km runners who started at 6:30am. Those who took the bus to the start, had to be at the event base at 5:15am. We started an hour later so caught the bus at 6:10am.

After we checked in and settled in our cabin, we went to the nearest supermarket to buy food for the event. I tried to remember what we usually eat on the run, as it has been a while since we’ve run/walked for 8+ hours. It was a bit of a hemming and hawing, backwards and forwards in the shop, but eventually we got a good range of flavours and textures. It is only 40km after all.

We tried to figure out how much to pack in our hydration vests, and how much to put in the drop bag. We opted to have a drop bag at the end of the second leg (the 40km covered the final three legs of the 65km which had five legs), with dry socks, a clean handkerchief and headband, and more food in case needed. Having a gluten intolerance means I can often not eat what’s on offer at the aid stations. We searched through all the jelly sweets in the supermarket, and couldn’t find any that didn’t contain gluten. Ditto for crisps.

A week before the event the weather forecast looked like it might rain all day. During the week the forecast changed to heavy rain in the morning, clearing during the day, with rain again from the late afternoon. We brought rain pants with and I was contemplating wearing them if it was going to be that wet. Wind was also in the forecast, and quite strong to boot also from the afternoon. Someone mentioned somewhere that it was only 4°C the year before (turns out it was only early morning – the sun came out and the day was perfect).

At registration the night before, I couldn’t believe how ‘big’ and sorted the event was. A good assortment of food stuffs were available outside the hall. Even a mobile wood fired pizza cart. The pizzas looked fantastic. People were mulling around, chatting, eating and generally seemed happy and content with life.

We got our race bags with bibs, an event t-shirt and headband, and queued for the GPS trackers. These were quite big and weighed a bit. It was almost like a normal GPS device, with the option of a distress button. Outside the main hall, we waiting by the food carts (very tempting) for the next showing of the welcoming and race briefing video in the hall next door. One of the organisers were present with additional information, and to answer questions. With all the boxes ticked, we went home to cook dinner, have a shower, and try to go to bed early.

During the night/early morning (4am) when I first looked out the door it had started to rain. Admittedly I wasn’t looking forward to spending the whole day in the rain. I had no idea what the terrain would be like or how fast we might be able to move. All I knew was that there were loads of stairs, and the elevation was 1620m for the 40km. Even though that was quite a lot, I still thought it might be comparable with the North Range ultra which had similar elevation, but over a 50k distance (which wasn’t that tough). I guess 10km shorter makes a massive difference to a similar elevation, as this was next level steep, especially given my current state.

As we drove to the event base in the dark before 6am, it rained. Arriving at a almost deserted carpark, apart from runners huddled under a roof to avoid the rain, it was calm, quiet, and not much wind. It was cool, but not super cold. I even decided to leave my small thin down jacket, which is very unusual for me – I always take them as they weigh next to nothing and make a huge difference. I still had two t-shirts (a body hugging second skin, and a normal one), a polypropylene vest (plus a spare in my pack) and my rain jacket. But no gloves and no beanie, as Perth is apparently really not super cold in winter.

The bus arrived on the dot at 6:10am and waited another few minutes for some late comers. The rainy trip to the start at Walyunga Scenic Lookout took a wee while, so we decided to download the GPX file for the course. This was totally unnecessary as the course was marked very well. We arrived shortly before 7am and were dropped off near the lookout in the Avon Valley National Park in the rain (on private land?) by a shed with fires going outside in metal drums. One of these fires were also used shortly before the start for the welcoming and smoking ceremony by the local indigenous Aboriginal people for safe passage. The smell of the smoke was so familiar and comforting, and confirmed why I love sitting outside by a fire so much. I have wonderful memories relating to outside fires, and it always makes me feel at home.

Still raining at 7:30am we were off without much of the typical race fanfare. Judged by the race coverage (and video online), it was a different story for the 65km runners. We were about 50 participants, while the 65km field had 150 runners. Overall not a big event by numbers, but man oh man, it is a huge event. It kicked the arse of big events like Tarawera and UTA in terms of everything, from online entries, registration, gear checking, merchandise, to the actual course, volunteers, aid stations,.and finish line celebrations.

First leg (3rd for the 65km) – 12km, 2:22
Nissen Hut, Paruna Sanctuary

After a 400m walk along a gravel road (which placed us right in front of the pack without much effort), we started following a track going downhill. Halfway down, we had to stop as my shoelace came undone. I was still going to do them up before we started, but was so relaxed I forgot about it. A few of the other participants came past us running, and we decided to followed suit at a very slow pace for very short stints as the terrain just wasn’t conducive to running, for me. Some stairs (muddy and filled with water) took us down to out first creek crossing. And then the climbing started. Heaps of stairs that slowed me down to a snails pace took us to a high point. Only to go straight down again, followed by another straight up and down again. And that was more or less the format of the first leg. Except, after the first set of stairs going up the mountain, the remaining ups and downs looked like we were using fire roads, going straight up and down instead of following a contour or having switchbacks. Since these were very steep both up and down, I found it impossible to run, especially for my current unfit, unconditioned state.

So even though we jogged small bits here and there, I was forced to walk the bulk of the course. All up I doubt that we jogged more than 5km of the 40km.

Needless to say, my legs were completely shattered after the first 12km. I stumbled into the aid station and wasn’t sure how I was actually going to finish the 40km, if things didn’t improve drastically. We checked in, filled one bottle with coke and the other with water, took a mandarin and pear for the road, quickly downed a Red Bull, and were on our way again. The rain finally stopped not long before, and we could take off our rain jackets which were soaked inside and out.

Second leg (4th for the 65km)– 16.5km, 3:10
Valley Camp Ground, AVNP (Avon Valley National Park)

The second leg follows the Avon River and railway line. It is undulating, with a few short sharp ups and downs. This could have been a running leg for the most part, had I been in better condition. My muscles were so buggered that I started to look like I was walking on eggs.

The sun was out, and so was the wind, especially in certain parts of the valley. The first 65km runners started to pass us. We followed a 4WD track, with a short section through a rocky and tree fallen patch, before joining up with the Jeep track again.

Arriving at the aid station, a volunteer brought over our drop bag (drop bags were an option at all the aid stations, and we decided to make use of this one). We still had enough food, but I was keen to swop socks for a thinner pair. My feet were quite swollen and I could feel a black toenail coming on.

I’ve lost my big toenails more times than I care to remember. A friend once told me that you only get seven new ones, and then it won’t grow back again. Haha. I can confirm that he was just pulling my leg. The last time I lost one, was in 2015 at the Tarawera 100k run. It took more than eight years to grow back. It was only last year that it started to look normal again. I knew it wasn’t. It hadn’t grown back all the way to the front and was thicker than it used to be. But it looked ‘normal’. This toe was so swollen that I knew the nail might come off again.

After peeling some mandarins for the road, Gerry had some baking and jelly sour sweets, before we were off on the last leg.

Third leg (5th for the 65km) – 12.5km, 2:20
Finish Cobbler Pool

Shortly after a steep downhill on a muddy 4WD track we started on a 4km relentless uphill. It was more gradual than any of the other uphills, and should be runnable if you’re fit.

But of course, what goes up, must come down, and we were again treated to some very steep downhills followed by more uphills. Worst part was that after the first 4km on the gravel road, we were walking through farmland with no trail. It was cambered and rough in places, and being totally buggered by then didn’t help.

We passed a small aid station for the 6km runners, and took another Red Bull for the last few kilometres. We could hear the finish line celebrations in the distance, and I just wanted it to be over.  Naturally the finish was on an uphill, but I was just glad to have made it in under eight hours.

This is a super tough run, and I’m very glad we didn’t enter the 65km run. Gerry had Covid again some time back, coupled with some other things that derailed our training, so we opted for the walk. How hard can it be? Well, let me tell you, it was ridiculously tough. I did not expect that. Since we walk more than we run the past few months, I thought I should be okay. And was it a flattish marathon on the road, I would have been fine, and might even have managed to finish in under six hours. But the 1632m elevation over 40km took its toll. I was not ready for that, and definitely not used to tough terrain, let alone wearing a hydration vest.

Apart from a handful of pademelons on grassy patches, and some ants, I didn’t seen any other animals. We could hear birds, more in some places than others, and it was obvious a trapping program was in place, judged by all the catch-traps out on the course.

The first bus (which we booked) only arrived ten hours after the 40km start, so we had to wait two hours for it. Initially I thought we would take a shower and hang around enjoying the party at the finish line, but I was too buggered to move. I parked myself in a sunny spot, as it was getting chilly in the final hours of the day, while Gerry collected the complimentary glass of beer. Unfortunately they didn’t have any cider (as promised) so Gerry had both mine and his. He also bought us fries and coffee to try and keep warm.

The drop-bags hadn’t arrived back at the finish line yet, so we had to make another plan to get it. If I had one complaint, or could make one suggestion, it would be to bring back all the used drop-bags in time for the first bus. Instead, they were taking everything back to Tribe & Trail after the event, which wasn’t open on the Sunday or Monday. Since we left for NZ the Monday evening, Gerry had to make special arrangements to collect it from the shop owner’s house.

On the bus taking us back to the event base, the most gorgeous full moon accompanied us. It was dark already and the trip took about an hour and a half. Once back, we went to the nearest Indian for take-aways, still covered in mud and smelling from a distance. Back home, we had a quick shower, poured a glass of wine, and had left-over salad with the curry.

It was my first ‘run’ in a new age group, and one that confirmed I have a lot of work to do in terms of mobility, stretching and strengthening before our next trail ultra, not to mention run training.

The event had no medals, but instead you plant a tree. Every participant also had to pick up five pieces of rubbish, and raise AU$20 for the Australian Wildlife Conservancy (thanks Nina for donating the money!) As a textile artist I focused my efforts on textile rubbish.

by

Baldwins Bluff Trail

Date: 16 June
Distance: 10km
Time: 1:30

After our parkrun, we visited some art galleries in Perth, had lunch, washed down with beer/cider at Picabar, bought some food for two days, before heading south out of Perth. It was about an hour’s drive into the ‘heart of the captivating Darling Ranges’, when we arrived at the Serpentine Falls Tasman Holiday Park where we stayed a couple of nights. It was already late afternoon, so we poured a glass of vino and started with dinner.

During the night I thought I heard raindrops. But in the morning it was sunny and another gorgeous day greeted us. Rain was forecasted, so we decided to drive the scenic route through the Serpentine National Park. By 10am it was clouded over and a soft rain started to fall. At the historic town of Jarrahdale we stopped at the Jarrahdale Local PO Kitchen for coffee and lemon tart. The air smelt clean and everything was covered in a shiny wet layer. Tourists, locals and a biker gathering had the cafe buzzing with patrons on this Sunday morning.

The narrow road winds it’s way through eucalyptus (jarrah), in red and rocky soil. I was surprised to not have seen a echidna yet. The environment reminded me of our first venture into Australia (Tasmania) when we saw our first echidna. I was intrigued to read about their 4-headed penises (which are not used to urinate!).

A few more sightseeing stops in the rain, including a visit to the Serpentine Dam, and we completed the round trip back at our accommodation for lunch.

Gerry had to finalise his poster for the conference, and as soon as that was done, we went for a jog-walk to Serpentine Falls and the Baldwin Bluff trail. It was nearly half-4pm, and the sun would be setting in a couple of hours, which was a minor concern. But not enough to deter us.

From our accommodation it is 1.6km to the parking area. We walked the first kilometre which was next to the road, before starting on a slow jog into the park. From the parking area we jogged the 400 metres to the falls where massive swimming holes are located. The water was dark and looked eerie, but clean and almost inviting (if you’re that way inclined). Strangely enough, we are five days out from the shortest day of the year, and the temperature was warm and comfortable (19 degrees C). I can imagine people might go for a swim, even at this time of year.

After the quick in and out to the falls, we took on the Baldwin Bluff Trail which went in the opposite direction from the falls out of the carpark. It is a 6km trip out-and-back, meaning the first three are mostly uphill. There were bits of downhill and the last kilometre was flat-ish with just a minor ascent, totally runnable.

Underfoot was quite rocky, and my old self – watching out for snakes underfoot – kicked in immediately. There were a number of other people making their way up the hill, but mostly people were coming down the track back to the carpark, as it closes for vehicles at 5pm. We were huffing and puffing going uphill to the lookout as fast as we can. With all the action, snakes would presumably have scurried away anyway.

At the far end, we saw a pademelon pair grazing on the foliage. We could see the campsite where we stayed down below in a distance, about 5km away (only two as the crow flies).

We started on the downhill, which went a bit quicker than going uphill, although the tripping hazard slowed me down to the occasional walk. We reached the completely deserted carpark at around 5pm, and had a sip of water before heading out of the park. The last kilometre (as with the first one) we walked along the road from the park gate back to the accommodation.

It is a lovely trail, and I’m happy we could fit it in before dark.  

by

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.