The First Time, no not that, Tramping.

That very first Tramp! How old were you? What instigated it? Where did you go? What influence did it have on you? Where I was concerned it was 1964, and I was just a few weeks shy of turning 17. Hadn’t long been at work as an apprentice. A friend of mine that my parents had taken in as a boarder suggested that easter would be a great time to go for a tramp into the tararuas. He had already mentioned a little of previous tramping trips and I was more that interested to see what it was all about. Me? No experience what so ever, his? I wasn’t all that sure. In the end after cobbling some gear together and 5 other likely sorts, 2 of whom had cars, well sort of we were ready to go on easter Friday. We arrived at the end of Upper Plains road out of Masterton around 10 am Good Friday, I can only imagine what any one looking on would have made of this unlikely looking raucous crew. Struggling with overweight ill fitting packs and not looking at all like we had any idea of what we were doing. I for one had no idea as to how long this walk would take, but looking at the map we had it did not appear to be far. Following the track across the farmland we passed old Bert Barras hut just before the drop down to the river and the commencement of the track proper, this being the Barra Track as pioneered by Bert himself. I obviously didn’t know him at the time but got to know him in due course. His dogs certainly kicked up a racket as we passed. And so the adventure began. I later learn’t that most Trampers on the day covered this track in approx 2.5 - 3.5 hours. We 5 loons finally staggered into the Mitre Flats hut of the time after being on the move for 7.5 hours. If we had had to travel another 100 metres I doubt any of us would have made it. Mitre Flats hut at the time was a tin shack, with 2 small windows, on facing vaguely towards and up the river, the other facing scrub and bush on a bank. It was supposedly capable of sleeping 12 along the rear of the hut on a wooden bench type arrangement. Did we have anything to sleep on apart from our sleeping bags? No! But then this seemed to be the norm because neither did anyone else that arrived whilst we were there with the exception of one person who had humped a blow up lilo in with them. On exiting the hut door if you bore right you carried on around the end of the bank and arrived at the toilet in amongst the trees. The door of which was missing. Going by some of the firewood lying about I suspect I knew where it went. Right alongside was a big rubbish pit that actually smelt worse than the toilet, if that was possible. It was also not a great place to visit in the dead of night. There were any number of other visitors to the dump seeking any tasty morsel that might be in the offering. Saturday was recovery day. I doubt any of us could have moved far even if a forest fire had descended on us. The other aspect was we had way too much food, thus it was a day of eat as much as possible so we didn’t have to carry it back out. I don’t think we moved any further than a couple of hundred metres from the hut, and then it was simply for a quick clean up at the river, wash dishes clean teeth etc. That night like the previous, the hard wood sleeping bench we didn’t even notice. For once we lay down it was good night nurse, never felt or heard a thing. In talking to other visitors to the hut that weekend, and there were many, we learnt that going out via the river was much quicker than the track. Oh! Yea! Quicker, flatter, easier? Yeah Right! If only we had listened more closely. Did we hear the description on boulder hopping, the number of times the river had to be crossed, and the number of crossings that actually had to be pack floated. Well? We did hear the word easier. I don’t think too many words crossed our ears after that. We left somewhere around 11 am. We reached the road end around 3:30 pm. Where we congratulated ourselves on a fast time compared to the efforts via the track We arrived back home in Wellington about 8 pm, having made a couple of stops on the way to eat and keep ourselves awake. I slept most of Monday. Tuesday it was a real effort to drag myself from bed and head to work. I think it took the good part of a week before I was moving freely again. Strangely enough I enjoyed myself. The camaraderie, the cursing, swearing, laughing each other’s occasional misfortune. The slips in the river, and the shear and utter exhaustion of it all. On the other hand I got to see another part of this country, to revel in the peacefulness of it. And most of all wonder at the wonderful scenery that was on offer. I suddenly had more interest in everyday small things. It took me another year of planning, slowly gathering more suitable gear and learning more about how one went about doing something similar. From there I was hard at it for just over ten years. Every possible moment I could I went. Lots of Tararuas. Ruahines, Mt Egmont. Occasionally further afield. Milford Track, Nelson Lakes, Heaphy Track being on the agenda. Then life interfered and zilch followed for a long time. Over the last few years I have started back in. A lot more coming later this year and next. I have missed those places, where nothing but the natural noises intrude. Well at least until some bastard in a helicopter flies over. What about you?