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Tararua routefinders
By Penny Redward
The mission was to find an alternative Te Araroa route between Levin and Otaki. The original route, walked by Maria Clements, Steve Purchase, Ziggy the dog and Geoff Chapple via the Waiopehu, Matawai, and Anderson huts to Mt Crawford and down to Otaki Forks is doable, but sometimes hazardous.
Te Araroa will be a trail for everyday trampers, so we were now trying to find a foothills route that provided a good taste of the Tararuas but without prolonged exposure to the tops; one that could be walked between communities - Levin, Manakau, Otaki, Waikanae. A 'Tararuas Lite' trail.
The team was Ingrid Lepionka, Gwen and Warren Lauder, Julian Harris, Ian Redward and me. We'd scouted already, but were stuck. After seven day trips nibbling away at each end of the walk it became clear that we'd have to bite the bullet and do an overnighter in the bush. To top it off we'd have to carry two days supply of water. There were no streams en route - unusual for the Tararuas, just the possibility of a swollen river at the end - quite usual for the Tararuas.
"We won't go if the weather is bad."
It poured all night. Everyone was waiting for someone else to ring. It stopped raining, no one rang, we went.
newest. Did they all tell the same story?
A fairly smart two hours up to Thompson, we checked the GPS and entered new territory with the local gurus Gwen and Warren as guides. Thank heavens for 'Gwens and Warrens'. It was an old track to Mick, there were lots of markers - in all directions:
Pink ribbon
Orange ribbon
White ribbon
Blue ribbon
Yellow tape
Red tape
White venetian blind
Bits of land agent signs,
Aeroplanes (to crash site)
Blue string
Green string
Yellow sacking
White plastic bags
White cloth - well it was white once.
Gwen and Warren didn't need markers. We had a quick snack at Mick - a vague clearing in the bush - no pipe to kick. "There was one here once" (Ian the surveyor). And on to the tops, an hour earlier than I'd planned. Great. Time to investigate the abandoned hut. I'd been told only the brave would venture in, but it was the only possible hut en route.
Well, not exactly en route.
Having spent 6.5 hours climbing 800m we were now descending 250m to check out a rat riddled hut! It only took 25 minutes. We had no intention of staying over, Ingrid definitely had no intention of staying over. We had tent flies and ground sheets, we were going to sleep in the bush.
We walked in to the first room; rubbish 30cm high completely covered the floor, ceiling tiles hanging limply from the roof. We tentatively pushed open the door into the main room, not so bad; rubbish only 20cm high and almost all under one bed, grubby mattresses shedding filling and an elegant lamp stand. Suddenly it rained, hard, we stayed.
Ingrid was not happy.
"If Maria was here we'd be sleeping out", we heard that sentence several times. (The Tararuas guide Maria Clements is a great tramping companion of Ingrid's).
It stopped raining half an hour later but Gwen had transformed the hut. Rearranged it. Swept the floor with a broken broom. Covered the mattresses with our ground sheets. We'd cleaned - windows, sills, table tops. Lit the fire and boiled the water running out of taps that still worked. Even Ingrid could now talk to us again.
Warren moved the lamp - with quiet dignity the shade slipped down the stand and settled half mast - it was added to the 30cm rubbish pile at the entrance. The table kept falling apart, trying to play cards with your knees holding the table together is an acquired art. We found a tin of nails - Ian, (the handyman) used an old axe as a hammer and the card games continued with ease.
The views were magnificent, sunset behind Kapiti Island with South Island peaks peeping over the top, cameras going flat out. All agreed the hut had definite possibilities. (Well possibly not Ingrid.) Working bees planned. Lists of 'things to do' drawn up.
Better check the loo. Couldn't find it. Eventually pushing through bush lawyer the standard corrugated iron box was found; looked intact, apart from a missing step.
Carefully leaning over the gap I tentatively undid the latch and pulled the door.
It literally fell on me! The hinges had completely disintegrated. Otherwise it was fine, pristine in fact.
25mins down but 40mins up next morning, back to our track and the highest point of the two days. "All down hill, just keep to the ridge".
Well... this was uncharted territory, new even to Gwen and Warren, and there were no markers, not a skerrik, not a ribbon, a white venetian marker or even a piece of string. Oh yes, there was one; a pale pink ribbon, about 10 cms long. Was I pleased to see that. When you are on hands and knees crawling in a tunnel under leatherwood and not really sure if it's a pig route (we'd seen three pigs yesterday) or a tramping trail, a little piece of pink ribbon is a very welcome sight.
Then we hit the windfalls, apparently, in the 1920's, there had been a track up here but a huge storm in 1936 had caused tremendous damage. Julian, the GPS whiz, came into his own now with Warren and his compass assisting.
It was slow, battered and bruised we headed down wrong spurs. Julian, with the patience of Job waited and waited until he could get a reading, plotted it on the map and redirected us. Were we making progress? I think we were all a little worried. Even the intrepid Ingrid who usually cheered us up with her "I love this, I love this" when we floundered around, back tracking, looking for routes, had grown quiet.
Some red tape markers! Julian wasn't sure. He didn't want to go down another wrong spur but he checked the GPS again and agreed to follow them for a while. Then an exclamation "Guess what I've just remembered? We put these on three weeks ago!"
We'd done it, we'd made the link.
Another two hours and we hit the river with relish. Nine hours of "just down hill keeping to the ridge" but we all enjoyed it and hope that others, many others, will one day saunter down a marked Te Araroa Track, enjoying the Tararuas Lite.
