New Zealand Walk: Misty heights at Haurata
They say there is no such thing as bad weather if you are wearing the right clothes. Liz French put the theory to the test on two walks in April.
How often has the weather forecast threatened rain only to turn out fine and sunny? I was determined not to allow a foreboding weather report to dampen a planned weekend at Haurata High Country Retreat.
Walking the Gisborne hill country of Haurata had been on my wish list for a long time.
We arrived on a Friday afternoon from Tauranga, via Opotiki and the Waioeka Gorge, winding our way up 12 kms of gravel round from the turnoff past Matawai Village on the road to Gisborne.
The rain had held off and the views across layers of rolling hills to the coast were worth stopping the car for. It was still sunny when we arrived at the Haurata farm house, now dedicated walker (and relaxer) accommodation in a seven acre rhododendron garden.
The cherry blossom drive would rival Japan in spring. The bones of the landscaping remain and sheep look after the lawn mowing.
We had a lovely wander in the sunshine then, near dusk, made a spur of the moment decision to walk a local track along the rocky hillside high above the river. Gorgeous to watch the sun setting over the panorama; and lucky we did. That was the last we saw of it!
Waking next morning to steady drizzle did not deter us from our plan to complete the Green Walk , a 12 km farm and river circuit which would be more likely to deliver clarity of vision than the Red or Blue Walks which mostly took in the tops.
We set off cocooned in big Macpac raincoats. Our walk headed up, taking us to 700m above sea level. We soon disappeared into mist so thick it was sometimes difficult to identify the markers.
This was no DOC track with an easy flat surface and big orange arrows. This was steep farmland, extremely lush and well manured by stock. We got stares from steers as we traipsed down through their lunch.
The mist cleared on descent though the rain did not. Then, suddenly, we found ourselves above a most beautiful waterfall in a stunning cliff topped rocky river; one of three equally awe inspiring falls. Had it been hot and sunny we could have walked up through the river (absolutely at our own risk of course) thanks to handy hand grips and a stepped pole to climb.
After slithering along narrow paths under the trees by the riverbed it was a welcome relief to make a cup of tea at the conveniently sited black hut and get out of the rain for a while before what all trampers know. Where there has been a big down you will always be ‘rewarded’ with a challenging up.
We made it back to the house in just over four hours, bedraggled but mostly dry. Our clothes succeeded in beating the weather.
There’s nothing like an expedition in the rain to make one appreciate the comforts of ‘home’ with the fire lit, books to read and wine and a roast meal to anticipate. (Haurata even cater if you want to be completely spoilt.)
It was raining even harder next morning so we did a bush walk which is virtually an extension of the garden, again appreciating the potential for enjoying the river in sunshine. We headed away, down through clearing weather, discussing who would be the best people among our family and friends to bring for a group getaway next time.
Crossing aborted
Two weeks later, another trip planned; another bad weather forecast. We weren’t going to let it ruin Anzac weekend in the Central Plateau. Another chance to prove the adage that there’s no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothes.
The Saturday plan was for eight of us to walk the Tongariro Alpine Cross-
ing while the rest chose to mountain bike the 42 Traverse. National Park based Kiwi Mountain Bikes were providing the shuttles for both. Walkers first.
We were ready in our raincoats (and from a cursory look I decided everyone was dressed sufficiently – all with good coats, the eleven year old with an extra Icebreaker). It was already looking black but our driver, a local, reckoned it would improve.
By the time we had been delivered to the end of the Mangatepopo Road the weather was worsening. We gamely strode out across the plain, along the boardwalks, up beside the mountain streams. The sign at the bottom of the big ascent up to the saddle under Ngauruhoe is one that should be read carefully. It warns of what is to come, points out the altitude gain and the often corresponding weather deterioration; asks if walkers are prepared. Most ignore it.
We were pretty soaked by the time we topped to the saddle and stopped to regroup. The gale was howling, the rain was lashing, fog was at whiteout level. I was freezing in double layer Icebreakers and big raincoat, hat and gloves (wet ones now). I suggested we turn back. No one argued. We would worry about trying to contact our transport and getting back to the lodge when we got lower.
While we were not the only ones ‘aborting the mission’ I was horrified to see the attire of some who were continuing, and to see what some people lower down were optimistically wearing – light shoes, t- shirts, cotton sweatshirts, two people carrying umbrellas!
I advised a family with young children in shorts to turn back. They didn’t. I could see a few casualties coming up. (Amazingly there was no news of any.)
By the time we got down several members of our party were seriously cold, especially those who wore cotton socks and tops (I should have been more vigilant before we set out.) One could not feel her hands to retie her laces.
When we stopped at the Mangatepopo hut the warden kindly rang our transport, to report that the shuttle was already waiting. Our driver had realised how fast the weather had deteriorated and hoped we would turn back.
The Tongariro Alpine Crossing weather is notoriously fickle, usually much colder at the top than you may imagine from lower down. We did not wear enough clothes, our coats only just coped BUT we made the right decision and all got back safely.
Again, nothing like a walk in the wild and wet wilderness to make us appreciate hot showers and a roaring fire.
The mountain bikers had swapped their 42 Traverse ride for a shorter equally wet local one over the Fisher Track. The drying room at the ski lodge was packed full of wet gear, much of it not up to the conditions. This time the weather won, and hopefully taught us a lesson.