Good thread Wayno.
Thinking my lightweight 44L Osprey pack (without airspeed suspension) could be used on a MTB overnight. It successfully rubbed one of my vertabrae raw.
This post has been edited by the author on 17 February 2015 at 15:50.
Was wandering down the Matakitaki River one day, rounded a corner and saw a big stag with an impressive set of antlers feeding in the river bed 10m away. Luckily I had my camera handy and was able to squeeze off the last couple of shots of the film strip before he busted me and hoofed it off into the bush. I didn't have time to count the number of points on the antlers, but no probs I'd be able to do that when the film was developed. Then proceeded to open the back of the camera to change the film only to find I'd forgot to rewind it. Gave myself a good upper cut to chin for that rookie mistake. So, never did know exactly how big that stag was :-(
I did one trip, photos didn't come out well... there was no film in the camera
"The really awful part of this story was that I had stood in Darfield Four Square on the way to the tramp, looking at a 2.5 litre bottle of water,"
I bought that bottle of water and took it as my only water bottle on my first tramp after a long break from tramping. It was mineral water and not a good choice. Ive drunk less salty sea water. (It wasnt from Darefield 4square)
On a misty morning at Ohau, not remembering which pocket had the hanky and which had the lens cloth... (#*~!)
Tried to do a solo traverse of the Northern Tararuas from Herepai to Holdsworth a few years back. The first day into Dundas was pleasant enough - but then a solid gale sprung up overnight trapped me there for a whole day.
Next day was ok but poor visibility. Only progressed to Arete Biv. Trapped another whole day.
The weather was still poor so I thought to escape down to Arete Forks - but in the cloud and wind I completely missed the drop off the ridgeline and finished up grovelling down the Waiohine Pinnacles in very poor form indeed.
Then I was trapped at Tarn Ridge for another five nights. Endless wind. Tried to get over Mitre but it was too dangerous on my own. Could barely crawl to the ridgeline to make a phone call. By now I was overdue but was lucky to manage a cell call to SAR to advise of my situation.
In the end we decided that the best option was to try and descend down the steep spur that leads down to the very head of the Waingawa river. With 10-20m visibility and very strong winds it took me three attempts to find my way down through the bluffs and scrub. Eventually got to Arete Forks just on dark absolutely exhausted. Now very low on food.
Thirty minutes later it started to rain. Massive flood. (Later on I heard it cause the cancellation of the Martinborough Fair that year). River rose rapidly and caused much anxiety because this really nice old hut is vulnerable to flooding. I had no torch (left it at Dundas) so packed all my gear, lit the fire for morale and waited it out. Every hour or so I ventured out into the downpour to try and judge what the river was doing in the roaring, thundering pitch blackness. Not a nice night at all.
Around dawn it stopped as suddenly as it had started. In daylight it was the most spectacular mass of logs and exploding pressure waves higher than the hut, less than a meter from overrunning the bank and taking the hut with it. Trapped another day by howling winds.
Now I was out of food. A long slow day laboriously clambering through endless fresh windfall to Cow Creek. I'm too embarrassed to write down how long it took. Another hungry night.
Not able to face climbing over Blue Range I decided to cross Cow Creek saddle and descend the Ruamahunga instead. A longer trip, but less climbing. At first it went ok, but by now I was going into ketosis and even the water I drank tasted oddly bitter. I was soaked and was not too far off the first stages of hypothermia. The last three hours the gale sprung up again, and the final 200m climb over the last bluff in the farmland saw me blown off my now very unsteady feet twice.
But if there is one thing I recall best of all - I had phoned ahead again to be picked up. And the final 500m across the last paddock somehow saw my whole being lift again. From a drunken stagger I could suddenly walk straight. From a stumbling plod to a trampers stride.
It didn't last long. Fortunately home was just 20 minutes down the road. I actually did loose 6kg on that trip. 13 nights out and 6 days overdue.
I cannot think of anything I should have done differently. The weather just played games with me, and even in this well-known and relatively benign country I was challenged to figure my way through it.
This post has been edited by the author on 22 February 2015 at 22:53.
I did the northern tararua traverse from ohau to holdsworth in mid winter, in snow, average speed 1km an hour.. eleven hour days. last day only a handful of scroggin to eat, the phrase on my last legs brought new meaning. had to divert into the mid waiohine to avoid disfficult sections on the tops like they did on the Intrepid journeys episode... certainly an adventure that one.
Wayno,
That does sound epic. Part of my problem was a lack of fitness at the time, but all the same I can well imagine an average of 1km/hr.
When conditions are nice it's easy to barrel along the Tararua tops at a decent pace - but snow or high winds put a very, very different complexion on the place.
I had planned for a five day trip (allowing for one or two lost days) - and had food for six. What I never anticipated was that the few breaks I got would be so short, then followed by days of howling gales. In the end I was out for 13 nights. Didn't see soul the whole trip - no-one else was stupid enough to be out there.
That's the problem with some of these high routes, you can get trapped on them. Even if you are safe in a hut, no-one can get in or out.
Except for the flood night at Arete Forks I don't think I was in any immediate danger at any point. And being on my own in some ways made it easier because I wasn't anxious about being responsible for other people as well.
In hindsight it was just a series of small decisions to push on hopeful of better weather, when access to a good forecast might have advised me otherwise.
Taking a know-it-all noob on a river bash. He was faster than me as I had all the shared kit and picked up a knee knock. The crossings got hairier the further downstream we got. When I said it was time to turn back he played deaf and put the hammer down (he had no bedroll and turning back meant camping). Rounded a bend to find him stranded half-way across a 'ford' that broke every rule, including the one about white water run-outs. It had gotten too deep on him but the flow was too strong for him to turn around. Managed to get him out and haven't spoken to him since.
@PhillipW - bet you had had a gutsful of mother nature by the end of that one. How quickly it stops feeling maternal when things start going bad.
