Trail running

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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.  

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Glen Oroua School fundraiser – lumpty dumpty

Date: 7 April 2024
Distance: 13km
Time: 1:33

After our last event at Tekapo (50km) in September 2023, our running dwindled quickly, and eventually came to a halt. School assignments had to be finished which included work for an exhibition in the middle of November. With no exercise and working around the clock, I got my first experience with covid which had me feeling crappy but less so than with flu. After three weeks, just as I was starting to feel better, the dreaded ‘cough cold’, which is worse than covid I’ll have you know, got the better of me. I strained intercostal muscles from all the coughing which put me out of the game for months (3 to be precise).

By the end of December, beginning of January, I figured I had to start doing something, so we went for easy walks. I was still out of breath from covid and the cold, so running wasn’t going to happen any time soon. I did attempt a jog once, but it was too hard with sore ribs and lungs that didn’t work.

Then came our trip back to the motherland where we again fell back into laziness, doing no running or walking for six weeks. That was the last straw. I was going to have to start over – no leg memory, no natural pace or rhythm, a heavier body to drag around, tightness, and cranky knees and hips. It was downright awful. I felt like a sack of potatoes every time I tried to run.

Nonetheless, it had to happen. I’m not done with running yet, so we started again on 4 March. Being a firm believer in the power of walking, we decided to walk 4km and run 4km every day. With every day I mean do it the first day, be buggered for four days before attempting it again. The second time I was again buggered for a couple of days, but the following week we could do four outings, and so things progressed. All up we managed about 20 run-walk outings for the month of March., most of them 4-walk-plus-4-jog. The two disciplines are slightly different, working different muscles, and to me it is a huge help when trying to get fit again. I can double up on the mileage without straining myself by running everything. Over the five days of the Easter weekend we extended the outings to 11km, running about half interspersed with walk breaks.

Then this event came along. Since we haven’t done any events in what felt like ages, we were keen to do one. Always more fun suffering with others around a course.

Although it was listed in the running calendar, it wasn’t well advertised, as was evident from the number of participants. Or perhaps the price tag and terrain was a deterrent? I counted 21 across all the run events (3k, 7k, 10k and 13k), and the bike event didn’t seem to have many more, as was the case with the walking event. Which is a shame being a fundraiser and all.

Since we started running again in March, our longest continuous run was about 4.5km, and I battled to keep to a 7min pace. Even though there was progress I felt like I wasn’t ever going to be fit again. I was uncertain whether I could or should try to run 13km, but at $40 entry fee regardless of what distance you do, I wasn’t going to do anything other than the longest event. Lunch (beautiful burgers) was included as well as dessert, but I still found it to be a bit dear, especially for those who came for a 3k walk. And also my allergies meant I couldn’t eat anything on offer, not even the chews at the drink stations.

Which brings me to the ‘course’. It is one big loop on a farm, private land so no worries about traffic which was great. Two water points on the course were placed at about 5km and again at about 8km stocked with water and chews. The organisers and all the volunteers were super friendly and supportive. Everything was wonderful except … But I’m getting ahead of myself.

At 9am the bikes were sent off, and five minutes later the runners, followed by the walkers. Surprisingly, once I got going, familiarity kicked in and I felt completely at home and ready for what was to come, despite really not being fit enough. Leg memory came back and the sack-of-potatoes-feeling partly subsided.

Although near the back of the pack, we managed a pace slightly under 7min/km. However in the last few kilometres I slowed down to over seven and sometimes 8min kilometres to average a 7:06/km pace. This was due to the increasingly rough terrain, which was just unnecessary and silly the last couple of kilometres.

Which brings me to the terrain underfoot. It is no secret that I despise running in paddocks. The terrain is just too uneven and bumpy, and a challenge on ankles and feet. Short stretches were on gravel roads and reasonably even, but other stretches went through small pine forests, which wasn’t as smooth and flat as I expected. Apart from windfall, pine cones, etc, we were running on a motocross track. This means a million little humps to run over, the kind where a motorbike would fly over a few humps at a time, but I wasn’t going quick enough! I found this a bit annoying.

The last 3km took us through bigger bike loops, humps, and hills, followed by a very rough cut stretch through weedy bushes which was downright terrible. Stumps sticking out, weeds  strewn on the sandy ‘path’, and heaps of tripping opportunities, turned this into an unpleasant finish.

On the bright side, I jogged pretty much all of it. I was a great test to see where I’m at, and I was pleasantly surprised to be able to jog 13k almost continuously when push comes to shove.

Would I do this event again? Probably not, unless the entry fee and course change. 😀

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Race Tekapo

Date: 16 September 2023
Distance: 50km
Time: 7:51

During the week leading up to the event, we followed the weather predictions closely, and things were looking increasingly grim. When an outing like this starts to get into the thousands of dollars, you don’t want anything to derail your plans. Winds of up to 100km/h (130km higher up the mountain) and a possibility of rain starting from 1pm were in the forecast for the event, according to YR. MetService had the rain starting at 4pm. We had all our compulsory gear, plus a few more layers (yes, I’m a wuss when it comes to extreme weather), and were crossing everything for not too bad weather.

The trip down was fine, but exhausting. We flew from Wellington early on Friday morning, so had to get up at 3:40am to drive down well in time. The wind was blowing like no tomorrow the day and evening before, and I was worried trees might be down/on the road, increasing our travel time. Fortunately nothing of the sort, and we could drive down in good time. The wind was still very strong, blowing our little car across the road, and I was stressing about the flight. I’m not a big fan of turbulence or sideways landings, but when we reached Wellington, it was calm and beautiful. I could not be more relieved. The flight was okay, a little bit of turbulence, with a decent landing in reasonable windy conditions, as Christchurch was more windy than I hoped.

When we walked out of the airport, the temperature was already a few degrees cooler than Wellington and Palmy. The rental car guy picked us up at the airport and drove to their place to sort the paperwork. Once we were on our way, we made by a quick trip to the supermarket for some last food stuffs, before making our way to Lake Tekapo. It is about a three hour drive and we were hoping to take it easy, stopping along the way, and not feel too rushed. It was about 10am when we left Christchurch.

Not a whole lot was happening along the way, and not many towns to stop for coffee or a breakfast. Most places were still closed. Fairlie, on the other hand, was bursting at the seams with queues out the door at some eateries and coffee shops. After a walk through town to find some hot chips and coffee, we eventually gave up and decided to stick to the bread, cheese and salami we bought at the supermarket. Why does one always want something other than what you have on hand?

We arrived at our accommodation at about 3pm, checked in, got our gear ready, and walked the 750m to the event registration. Registered and with a bib, goody bag which included a race branded Thir headband (!), our compulsory gear checked and drop bags dropped off, we made our way back to the lodge as it was starting to get dark. While cooking dinner, we shared a cider, and cranked up the heaters.

The temperature was already in the single digits and dropping though the night. Prediction was for minus one at the start of the race. When we got up, yet again before 4am, it was one degree Celsius. But the best part was there was almost no wind! It was obviously going to pick up sooner rather than later, but our 1.2km walk in the dark to the start was just very cold, not super duper cold from wind chill.

Race briefing was at 5:40am, and at 6am on the dot we were off – to the theme music of UTMB: Vangelis’ Conquest of Paradise. Haha. That was quite funny, but for the first few kilometres I was humming the tune in my head thinking, dreaming, about doing the UTMB one day.

From the start we went straight onto the walkway next to the lake, across a footbridge, past the Church of the Good Shepherd, and into the forest. The sun was starting to rise and by the time we reached the first aid station just on the other side of the forest (at 3.7km) we could turn off our headlamps. We ran a big loop in what looked like a paddock. Huge rabbit holes were strewn across the field, which reminded me of a time when I was 13 years old when I stepped into some animal’s burrow and nearly disappeared down the hole. I was in agony afterwards from spraining a few things, and to this day I wonder if that had anything to do with my wonky spine.

Back at the aid station, we stuffed ourselves with the wonderful spread of oranges, Heartland chips, Pam’s jet planes, and biscuits. The chips and jet planes were gluten free which was fantastic. Normally I can’t have anything at aid stations as most jelly sweets do contain gluten, and we have to carry our own sustenance.

We were going quicker than I anticipated, doing the first 10k in 1:15. Considering it was nearly flat and very easy underfoot, one could go at speed. But this was meant to be an event for us to take easy, not break ourselves, and just enjoy a long day out. But of course doing the first 10 so ‘quick’, I figured we could potentially try to do each 10k in one hour thirty minutes, to finish in about 7h30. It is still reasonably slow, and shouldn’t have a long tail of recovery. We had 15 minutes in the bank for when we have to go over Mt John, which would no doubt slow us down.

After a whirl around the forest of which parts are being felled, we headed back long the edge of the lake towards the start at about 21k. Passing next to the start/finish area, we topped up our waterbottels, feasted on the spread, and headed off towards the mountain. Although it is only about 300m elevation, the ascent is over a 2k distance – quite steep with no respite. A big part of the ascent was also in a forest and sheltered from the wind. But once we popped out above the forest, it was rather windy. And cold. I’ve started with five layers, got down to four layers, but had to put on my fifth layer again. My buff and beanie hadn’t come off yet, and neither the gloves. With a 6am start, it was still early in the morning and very cold. The poor marshals out on the course and on the mountain, just standing and waiting, must have been freezing.

Once partway down the other side of the mountain, we were diverted onto a sealed road that took us on a steep downhill to the aid station at 28k. We opted to have a dropbag there with more sustenance, some gherkins and prosciutto. We also added rain pants to the dropbag incase the forecast came true and it started to rain at 1pm. We passed the aid station twice (again at 43k) and could access these items on any of the two occasions.

Past the aid station, we took a right to run down another sealed road for another couple of kilometres before being directed back onto the trails. We were running downhill towards Lake McGregor, followed by a long stretch next to Lake Alexandrina. At about 33k on a grassy patch, my feet caught on thin air and I took a roll in the meadow. Luckily there weren’t rocks and the landing was fairly soft. However, all my weight came down on my right arm, which felt quite sore afterwards. Fingers and other joints could still move, albeit sore, so I figure nothing was broken despite the pain.

The stretch next to the Lake Alexandrina felt like it went on forever. At times the track was quite cambered, on top of being quite narrow, making running a bit more challenging. But having said that – this is the easiest most runable 50k I’ve done so far. Apart from the (about) 5k of steep climbs, the whole course is reasonably flat and easy underfoot. Some rocks in parts , and the potential for slippery mud on the downhill coming back off Mt John, but mostly very easy terrain.

We exited from the Lake Alexandrina trail at about 41k, to follow a gravel road back to the aid station at ’41k’ (it was at about to 43.5k). Still filled up from all the goodies at the aid stations we didn’t bother with our drop bag. Moved it to the ‘used’ pile and started on the uphill again. Despite the wind and it being reasonably cold, I took off my fifth layer (a thin down jacket) and gloves and put it in the outside pocket of my hydration vest.

At the top of the incline (about halfway up Mt John again), and with about 6k to go, we dropped down the other side, making our way to the finish. We passed a couple more 50k runners and a few of the 32k runners in this last stretch.

Unfortunately, somewhere in the last 6k, my little down jacket and gloves blew out of my bag and into oblivion, I guess. I hoped that another runner who may have come across it, might pick it up and hand it in, but sadly I haven’t heard anything yet (nine days later). Still crossing my fingers, but not holding my breath.

At the finish it was blowing a gale. We were wet from sweat, and started cooling down quickly. This was when I noticed my jacket was missing.

Gerry bought us mocchas at the coffee cart, we collected our dropbag, and started walking the 1.2km back to the lodge. After a shower, we headed back to the track and walked about 3k back along the course to see if we could find the jacket, but no luck.

With the horrible wind, prize-giving was moved from the race village next to the lake to the community hall where we had registration. Unfortunately this was so small that more than half the people had to stand outside, unawares of what was going on. When the numbers for the spot prizes were called out, the bush telegram were passing the numbers around outside the hall.

Afterwards, while people were bursting out the doors, we headed inside to find the white board with bib numbers written on it for minor spot prizes. Gerry got a spot prize and picked a pair of Creeper wool toe socks for me, which I can’t wait to try out. He also got a couple of free beers.

We headed home to cook the meat we bought, boil some potatoes and have salad, washed down with a red. By then my arm was so sore that I was certain something was fractured or cracked. I could not use it at all, and moving it in certain directions was pure agony. And everything else was more sore than I hoped it would be. Our latest long outings where we walked most of the way, meant I wasn’t very sore afterwards and recovered quickly. But we jogged more than I planned during this event, which resulted in more pounding. We were near the back and I felt bad for keeping the volunteers waiting in the cold, even though we made the ’41k’ cutoff with more than an hour and a half.

This remains the challenge in the NZ running scene  – people don’t want to participate if they’re not fast. Which means that running isn’t really inclusive. This would be a very good event for someone new to the distance, but with only a 121 participants in the 50k (6 DNS and 4 DNF) and a winning time of 3:49 (male), 4:06 (female), the field is very spread out and the back of the packers are few and far between. The slowest time was 8:48.

If we lived on the South Island I would do this event every year. It’s easy enough, great underfoot (when not wet), and fantastic organisation. The aid stations are wonderful, the course is well marked, and the event branded Thir headband was just the cherry on the cake.

During the night the wind picked up even more (is it even possible?) and it started to rain. The wheelie bins with giant rocks on them at our lodge blew over, and things looked terribly grim in the morning. I counted my lucky stars that race day was the day before things turned really nasty. We started gathering all our stuff, and packed for the road trip back to Christchurch. A quick drive through the village (we usually just pass through on the main road), while it was raining coupled with strong wind, before taking the highway. This time we decided to take the scenic route back, which to me looked the same as the other road. Or did I miss something?

We stopped for coffee at the one horse village of Burke’s Pass, but after a look around we ended up leaving without coffee. We drove past Kimbell, visited The Garage Gallery, and later stopped for filter coffee at the Fairlie Heritage Museum.

After taking the rental car back, we checked in at he airport and waiting for our turn. People were milling around and I dreaded the thought of having to fly in the horrible wind. The tail end of some of the strongest winds ever recorded in NZ (246k/h at Cape Turnagain, on the eastern side on the North Island) was blowing outside as we were waiting to board the plane. I found it hard to imagine flights were going ahead in the atrocious conditions.

Taking off was quite bumpy and a lot of turbulence. It was scary, but as we approached Wellington, it just got worse. I didn’t want to look, but the last time I did, the see was white and the water obviously super choppy. I closed my eyes and hoped for the best, when the pilot suddenly pulled up full throttle only to make a U-turn and head back to Christchurch. Three planes before us were already diverted, as were flights to Dunedin. All these flights were going to Christchurch. The landing was, given the circumstances, not too bad, but not the kind one would like to repeat.

With long queues of passengers trying to find out what next, emotions were running high and people were grumpy. Luckily Gerry was nearer the front end and could get a flight back to Wellington the next morning (it seemed almost too soon, as the stormy weather was still lashing the country), and also a nights accommodation at the Sudima Hotel. As we walked the 400 metres to the hotel, we chatted to another lady who was diverted from Dunedin. I couldn’t help but think to myself; what if the weather was so atrocious everywhere and there was nowhere to land? Which made me angry that the airlines took the chance in the first place. But I’m assuming they know what they are doing.

While we waited at the hotel to get helped, we bought a glass of wine at the bar, and just revel in being safely on the ground.

The next day we had breakfast at the airport, while our flight was delayed three times, in order for the wind to die out a bit. It was still blowing strong, but the water was less choppy and the landing was, again, not too bad given the circumstances.

Back home, two massive branches of a pine tree fell on the chicken coop and caused a lot of damage. The tree lost its central leader while it was still a small tree 14 years ago, and grew a heap of branches in its place. Some of these have the circumference of a pregnant sheep, and it was one of these that came down. The havoc it caused is immense: a row of Puhutekawa threes are all flattened on the one side, and some lost all branches. Our remaining apple tree (the other one drowned during winter) took a beating on the one side and some other indigenous tree are also damaged. The amount of work to clean up is vast, and will take a long while before we will have it all done.

Unfortunately, my arm (the one I fell on) took a turn for the worse. By the Friday after the event, I went to a doctor as I was sure something was cracked of broken. Turns out it must be torn ligaments and/or muscle. I was referred to the Hand Physio, but could only get an appointment in ten days time.

In the meantime, I’m pretty useless, and battle to see how I’m going to get everything done that need doing in the next couple of months (school work, cutting grass, pruning olives, cleanup pine tree, fix chook house, and the list goes on). On top of everything, I also picked up a cold of sorts, so no running anytime soon.

That’s the way it goes. Life will throw curve balls. We just need to figure out how to catch them.

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Summerhill Skedaddle, Papamoa, Tauranga

Date: 14 May
Distance: Approximately 30km (we measured 34km)
Time: 5:45

The most fun you can have on winding, super hilly, muddy bike tracks, without a bike. Until it is ‘fun’, but not fun anymore.

This was the fifth running of the Summerhill Skedaddle (not to be confused with the new Skedaddle event on the South Island). The event runs on mountain bike trails in the Papamoa hills of Tauranga, and I have no doubt the organisers picked the most hilly trails in the park. When I saw Chris Townley at the start, I should have known something was up …

The format is as follows: it starts at 9am and finishes at 3pm, the course is a 5km loop, which you can run as a two-person team, a random Skedaddler, or a solo Skedaddler, and the aim is to complete as many (or as little) loops as you want. The randoms arrive when they want, start when they want and do as many loops as they want. Everyone gets a medal and a beer.

Apart from the teams (and there were many of them), the solo runners numbered 38 men, and 24 women. Random skedaddlers tallied 212, and a maximum of 500 participants are allowed. At a guess, I’d say we were between 300 and 350. The female record was eight laps, broken this year by Caitlin Knox to make it nine (phenomenal on that course!) and the male record remains at ten laps.

When you don’t know what to expect it is very easy to make up numbers beforehand. Like, six hours are allowed, maybe I can make 40km if I jog some and walk the rest. I honestly thought that 5km per hour is totally doable and a bare minimum, therefore easily completing 30km. Turns out, 30km was quite a challenge!

We’ve had some terribly hectic weeks, and this event and trip to Tauranga (some six plus hours drive one way) could not have been more badly timed. However, we were keen to experience this event and it was also a chance to catch up with our good friend Rob. We haven’t seen him since 2019, and it was about time we do an event together again.

With too much wine the night before, a bit of a hangover (thank goodness we sorted our food and drinks beforehand), we arrived not so bright and early at a very festive event base – a woolshed on the Summerhill Farm, owned by a private charitable trust established by David & Cloie Blackley on private land. After paying our dues and writing our names on a board, we queued for a last pee before getting to the start, which was in front of the shed. The start/finish farm track in front of the shed was lined on both sides by gazebos and tents and whatever people were using as setup to stash their sustenance, and shelter their cheering crews. Actually, each lap officially started and finished in the woolshed where you tick off your own laps, but the line of gazebos made for a nice ‘finish shoot’.

At 9am we were counted down and all participants dashed down a steep paddock to get onto the trails. I thought we were near the back, bit I guess we ended up somewhere in the middle. With around 300 runners on a single track, things are bound to be a little congested, and passing or getting passed was a bit tricky, so I tried to hold my place in the long line of runners. I was going okay, despite knowing we were running a bit too fast and I might regret it later on. I was delighted to see a toilet in the first kilometre in the pine forest and decided then that I would make use of it on the second lap. The toilets near the shed were a little bit out of the way, and super smelly. When I used these toilets before the start, I had to hold my breath, and figured the bushes will have to do for future pee stops. It was nauseatingly smelly. Turns out it the bush loo was a composting toilet and really not meant for large volumes (300 people!) of pee.

After the toilet a nice runnable kilometre, or thereabouts, on an overall downhill gradient that took us lower down in a valley where a super muddy section just got worse as the day went on (our photos were all from the first three laps, where that section was already pretty muddy. We forgot to take the camera, and the phone had to do – hence all the out of focus photos). On the first loop we could get through the mud not totally soaked, but by the forth lap, it was a soggy, muddy ankle deep mess, and slippery.

The first 1.5 kilometres is roughly on a downhill gradient, followed by a 1.8km stretch up and down over a hill in the middle of the loop, to finish with the last 2 kilometre on an uphill gradient. Not that that is an accurate description of the course. All around the loop there are short ups and downs to make sure it remains a challenge. A few short ups (three?) were super steep, an almost all fours kind of steep, and I was grateful we didn’t have to come down these. There is not a lot of flat areas, and add to this very windy paths, and the pace comes down considerably. Despite going flat out and ‘running’ what felt like the biggest part of the loop, we finished the first loop in 44 minutes. I knew right then that a loop an hour would be good for my capability at this stage of my training. That is if I could keep going for six hours, which was the main aim. We also needed to factor in the ticking off of laps, getting food and water, pee, etc.

We finished the second loop in 48 minutes, the third in 46 minutes, fourth in 51 minutes, fifth in 55 minutes and the sixth lap in 54 minutes. Which wasn’t too bad going, I think. We dilly-dallied about 48 minutes between laps all up (mixing electrolyte, topping up water and snacks, eat something, loo stops, and ticking off our laps). We opted to run with a small bag of snacks (jetplane jelly sweets, marshmallows, dates) and a small water bottle to have sustenance on the run. At our base setup we also had gherkins, prosciutto, bananas, date balls, sesame snacks, and electrolyte drink.

Adding to the festivities, were a bag pipe player near the halfway point which was also near the woolshed with sound carrying through the valley, and a lone saxophone player deep in the forest with beautiful sound akin to Lisa Simpson leaving music practice. Some wonderful jazzy notes to keep us going on the hills. At the base there was either music playing over the sound system, or live entertainment. As some runners only did one or two loops, or didn’t stay until after lunch, things quieted down somewhat on the trail for the last couple of laps, and the passing or getting passed got a bit less.

A burger cart was making what looked (and smelled!) liked delicious (huge!) burgers, so every time we finished a lap, people were stuffing their faces on the porch of the woolshed where we had to run through to get to the board to tick off a lap, which is pure torture. All I wanted to do was stop and be done with the pain. Unfortunately the burger lady had packed up when we finished, so no burger at the end. But happy with our medals, an iced tea for me, and beer for Gerry and Rob, we ate the last of our prosciutto, gherkins, and crisps, before I dragged my sore body to the car.

Gerry and Rob opted to help collect course markers, and although I was fully prepared to help, I realised within the first few steps that I was going to hold everyone up. To say I was buggered is an understatement. My muscles were completely spent, and for the first time ever I developed a super sore left hip (my FAI is on the right) on the fourth lap. It was especially sore going uphill, and I figured the problem must be muscle related. Admittedly I need to work on my strength, and it will become more important as we go longer.

The course was well marked with colourful ribbons and bunting, course markers and arrows, and entertaining props were scattered around the loop. Where have I seen that gorilla before?

The lowest point was at 120 metres above sea level, and the highest point at 204 metres. It is advertised as a free event, but effectively you pay what you want via a voluntary donation system, and the money is used to maintain the trails.

It is one of the toughest 34km I’ve ever done, and a timely reminder that we should get off the flat roads and into the hills. Not sure when and how, as it is not practically possible on a regular basis, but even once a month should help already.

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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.