Nicky was up bright and early--I lingered in bed, eventually getting up at 7:30, feeling like I'd been for a ride in a tumble dryer, minus the heat. Nicky and I chatted over breakfast, she asking "is that all?" when I made my porridge. She'd said the same thing last night when I made my pasta...
Soon enough she was ready to set out so we wished each other good walk and set off. I got ready at a rather more stop-start pace, finally farewelling the hut around 9:30. There would be just no moving fast today, or so it would seem.
Not 2km from the hut along the undulating river-side track I ground to a complete stop. I was tired and sore and had no energy whatsoever. Why was this so hard? Nicky's words ran through mind..."is that all?". It suddenly occured to me why this whole section has been so difficult (apart from the weather)! I've brought along the same daily amount of food I've been having for the previous several sections, only those sections were virtually flat and easy walking. The Tararuas are certainly not flat or easy! While I haven't been especially hungry, I'm willing to bet I just haven't been eating enough food for the amount of physical work I've had to do. On top of that, I've forgotten to take any multivitamins this section.
Feeling like a fool I sat down and immediately took a multivitamin and had lunch/second breakfast in the form of a wrap with a double ration of cheese and salami. I soon felt much better and after half an hour or so set off along the trail with renewed vigour.
Laughing at myself for being such an idiot helped distract me from what in the map looks like a pleasant river-side walk, but in actual fact is an up-down-up-down route through the forest to divert around various slips. The trail notes mention that the route follows a new track upslope to divert around a particularly large and dangerous slip (someone wrote in the hut log they'd tried the old track despite the slip and regretted it). I wondered what other TAers make of the term "new track". Possibly the foreigners (particularly the Americans) think it means 'brand new track in need of no maintenance whatsoever'. Being a Kiwi I was much more inclined to think that a "new track" was some barely discernible route cut through the bush that hasn't been well trampled in yet. My interpretation was much nearer the mark and I laughed ironically when the other descriptor "benched" proved only really to be the case at either end of the new route, with not much evidence of any "benching" in between.
Happily the new track does eventually sidle back down to meet the old track: an old tramway track that's broad and flat (and benched). This is walking paradise for a few hundred meters until it leaves the beech forest and traverses scrubby farmland on the way into Otaki Forks. Incidentally upon emerging from the forest I also emerged into blazing sunshine...some choice words were said, but I was a big enough person to hope Nicky was enjoying a clear day up Mt Crawford. Walking out I could look back up the valley and see it's big bowl-shaped peak looking majestic against the bright blue sky. 'Another day, another time, mountain', I thought.
There are several small slips along the way out of the steep-sided valley, and one truely large one that has exposed half the hillside beneath the narrow remnant of track that sidles across the top of it. No wonder this place is so prone to slips...the whole hillside is composed of unconsolidated sandy gravels!
Eventually, after crossing two swing-bridges (not nearly as scary as the last), and managing to score only a single rope blackberry from the various brambles, I came upon the intersection where one track leads across a final bridge to the road, and another leads to Parawai Hut. Though not my destination for the day I detoured to the hut. No one was there, but a pair doing day trips in and out had left a load of gear there, including a garbage bag I took to contain used items of clothing labelled with a sign saying "contaminated". If their clothes smelled anything like mine after more than two days walking and sweating I could understand the sign completely. I pulled on my shirt this morning and I'll swear it smelled vinegary; I've sweated it through so many times it's fermenting! (In deference to hygiene and my own and others sense of smell I rinsed my shirt out in the first stream crossing I came across this morning, which helped a lot. My shirt then only had a background stench of sweaty hiker, not a fermenting one. Oh how I long for a laundry!).
I stopped at the hut for an hour and a half, laying out all of my wet gear in the sun to dry. Meanwhile I soaked up some vitamin D and perused the log book. Finally, around 4:30 I packed up and set off again, out to the road.
The road to Otaki Forks has been shut for several months due to--what else--a major slip. Consequently the only route in or out is to walk in over twine part of the Tararua Ranges. Having walked in over the somewhat narly section behind me, TA leads out along the comparatively tamer track over the significantly lower summit of Puketeatua. A few kilometres up the road, past a couple of camping areas (all empty) and a vault loo (never turn down the chance to use a loo), a carpark sits at the base of the track. A solitary car was parked on the far side of the carpark, and I wondered whether it had been stranded there since the slip closed the road.
On the map the first part of the Puketeatua Track looks very steep. In reality it's a broad zig-zagging track of a gentler but steadily rising gradient that I managed to steam up without stopping. I did stop for a break in one of several grassy clearings that afforded me one last look at Mt Crawford. I couldn't help but fell a little bit beaten by the mountain and it's weather. Sure I'd made it over it, but having never actually seen anything but nearby bushes and cloud, I'd not actually "taken it all in" as they say. I hope to be able to one day.
Well into the track I began looking for a likely spot to camp. None of the open grassy areas took my fancy, but once I got into the forest proper again there weren't any flat spots sufficiently clear of vegetation. One possibility was a flattish spot left by a fallen tree that might have been just big enough for my tent, but walked in by the trees upright roots it was dark even without the growing twighlight, and being in a hollow, if it rained I was sure I'd wake up in a puddle. So I pressed on until after 7pm when my energy was failing and the trail itself afforded the only clear, flat spot I'd seen for ages. Judging that no one else was likely to come by (all the long-hour pulling Cloudwalker-types must be weeks ahead by now if not already finished!) I got a pot going for tea and pitched right there on the trail while my pasta was cooking. It's weird to be back in the tent after being in huts, but still familiar. Pot washed, teeth cleaned I crawled into bed. There's mobile reception up here do I phoned Mum for a chat...no answer. Finally around 8:30 I got through--she'd been out in the garden all this time as the weather is so nice. Fair enough, although I'll admit to bring a little surprised. Half the time Mum's already in bed by 8:30, not still gardening!
It was nice to hear a familiar voice. I'm very tired and glad to be out of the Tararuas. Also my food and gas supplies are running out so I'm very much looking forward to getting back to civilisation tomorrow. Waikanae, here I come!
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