A mountain mission like no other deep in the Kahurangi
The older I get, the more I love tramping. It may not give you quite the same high that skiing or mountainbiking gives you, but there’s not much better than a week out in the hills to feed the soul. And when you develop the skills to go off-track, you feel a whole new level of freedom, finding new and creative routes.
Last year I set two weeks aside for a mountain mission with a couple of mates, Hamish and Leif. Our plan was to traverse the Southern Alps from east to west. Like the Coast to Coast multisport race, except cooler.
Our trip was going to include biking, tramping, skiing and packrafting. We would start on the coast near Timaru on bikes, and the first leg would take us into the South Island high country. From there, we’d ditch our bikes and continue on foot.
The peak of the trip would be a traverse of the Garden of Eden and Garden of Allah ice plateaus, and we’d finish our mission by dropping into the Wanganui River and packrafting out to the West Coast.
The forecast was terrible, so instead of signing up for a sufferfest in the Southern Alps, I suggested a north to south traverse of Kahurangi National Park, piecing together some of its most beautiful and remote terrain.
The boys agreed – and, joined by veteran Keith Murray, who still holds the Coast to Coast one-day record, we left Wanaka and headed north. I told the guys not to worry – ‘‘This is no ordinary tramp I’m taking you on’’.
I was excited to finally do a traverse of the Dragons Teeth and get into the Garibaldi Range.
We started at the Anatoki roadend, sidling our way above the Anatoki River to the Anatoki Forks Hut, one of the only huts in the country to boast a wetback and shower. We spent our first night camping in a flat area below Yuletide Peak.
From the summit of Yuletide Peak, the imposing Dragons Teeth command attention. We wondered: ‘‘How on earth are we going to negotiate that?’’ We had a dip in Adelaide Tarn before continuing towards Lonely Lake.
Once you’ve made it through the more technical section on the Dragons
Teeth, the journey to Lonely Lake is stunning alpine tramping, with open tussock basins and lovely rock features. We dropped our packs for a quick ascent of the Drunken Sailors, with views over Tasman Bay and a sea of thick forest and mountains spreading out towards the West Coast.
Lonely Lake Hut is a wonderful example of the rich human history and incredible shelters that have been left behind. Tales of those who came before us fill the hut books, a collection which dates back several decades. We read of epic storms, misfortunes on the high traverse, and complaints from men in the 1960s about the lack of women in the mountains.
We left Lonely Lake and continued towards the Cobb Valley, dropping down to Fenella Hut to mark the end of the Douglas Range. A few kilometres of easy walking down the valley brought us to Chaffey Hut. From there, we bush-bashed our way on to the Peel Range.
‘‘Tramping, eh? This is all right,’’ Leif said, poking his head through a patch of thick nae nae. Tramping had become the joke of the trip. I was on a bush mission with three guys who were stoked on adrenaline sports.
‘‘I think we have different ideas of fun, Dulkara,’’ Leif said not much later, while negotiating a precarious section. Keith belly-flopped into a patch of snow at the bottom and cut his finger.
The country was rugged, full of exposed rock sections and thin layers of snow on snowgrass, one of the dodgiest combinations in the Kiwi outdoors.
Kakapo Spur is one of the most logical routes off the Peel Range into the Karamea. The 14 kilometres of bush-bashing and tops travel never seemed to end. Hamish just stopped himself from going over a three-metre bluff.
Around 9.30pm, we set up camp next to the Roaring Lion River. Our mouths were full of bugs. From there, our goal was Karamea Bend, where we had a stash of food waiting for us.
‘‘Now this is tramping,’’ Leif said, wading across the Karamea River with his pack on his head. Our undies were wet, and I’d started dreaming about packrafting and wondering why we hadn’t sent packrafts in with our food stash.
We arrived at Karamea Bend to find our stash intact: beer, whiskey, chips, avocados, oranges, apples, carrots, and lots of salty goodness. We spent the afternoon chilling in the sun with topo maps sprawled over the deck.
Keith’s foot and Leif’s achilles tendon had started to give them some grief, and the weather was worsening.
Our original route plan had us climbing on to the Garibaldi Range, followed by the Herbert Range and heading out to the Matiri road end. The updated grim forecast would force us off the more interesting tops and back into the valleys.
‘‘I think I’m gonna walk out. I’ve done enough tramping,’’ Leif said. Keith agreed: ‘‘I’ve had a really good trip till now, but I don’t want to overdo it.’’
Soon, we found ourselves climbing the Wilkinson Horror track, a gnarly path with steep creek sections and 1100m of elevation gain to reach the Baton Saddle.
From the Baton Saddle, Keith and Leif headed out via the Baton Valley, while Hamish and I continued along the Arthur Range, spending a final night camping just below the summit of the South Twin.
We sat on the summit looking over Tasman Bay as the sky turned pink. I crawled into my sleeping bag with a small container of chocolate mousse. In the morning, we backtracked and descended the Loveridge Spur into the Baton, and were picked up by the others.
We set up camp next to the Roaring Lion River. Our mouths were full of bugs.