hiking

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

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

Familiarity in unfamiliar area – Rangiwahia hut

Date: 27-28 December 2022

Distance: 15km

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

by

Blue Range Hut blues

Date: 25 January 2021
Distance: 8km out-and-back
Time: 1:45 going up | 1:30 going down

An invitation came along for a walk up to a hut, which was the perfect opportunity to get my bum off of the chair and do something physical for a change. To be fair, we have started jogging 4km most days of the week for the past month or so to try and get back into some form of fitness and routine. It has been a hard slog, and sometimes a real challenge just to cover those 4km, but we have been going reasonably steady for the past month.

Continue reading →