Sunday, 22 December 2013

Kawakawa Station Walk



KAWAKAWA STATION WALK - November 2013

 Anyone see Country Calendar last week?, asked Anna innocently at a dinner shared by 6 very old friends. That would be "old" as in "forever and a day". Nek Minnit....here we all are, at Kawakawa Station, ready as some of us could be, for the 3-day walk, as featured on said Country Calendar.  



  
Kawakawa Station is only a few kilometres  from the North Island's southernmost point, Cape Palliser, and even closer to Ngawi,  known for its "exposed" climate and having more bulldozers per capita that anywhere else.  
 
Being all wonderful cooks but a bit tired of it, we opted for the "catered" walk.  Being wonderful cooks, we appreciated the fine standard of meals and snacks provided, from the home baking on arrival....to the home baking on departure. At no point was there a suggestion that weight would be lost. Our chilly bins preceded us, and beverages reclined in the fridge, thanks to the Food Fairy.

Our briefing from Sarah was clear and precise.  The map is simple, the journey notes answer all the questions (except, possibly, Am I going to make it?) and the two -way radio goes straight to Bev, being the most likely to remember how to send in our whereabouts, morning and night.
After poring over "The Journey - Day 1" several times, it did seem sensible, heaven forbid, to get an early night. Tomorrow we had a rendezvous with The Ant.

Anna, Bev, Paul, Barb, Marg, Bill

 


The Ant is 616 metres high. As we wandered along the beach for the first 4 kilometres,  it did mean we had to climb each of those metres. Lounge furniture littered the foreshore, a perfect spot for a crayfish picnic. 

However, the hills loomed, the tops hidden by a peculiar, moving mist.



 

As soon  as we crossed the golf course, where electric fences are part of the grass management programme, we were heading up our first ridge. While the track had been bulldozed, it was  covered in grass. The best of all worlds.   The Angus were in the front paddock, so we only had the odd inquisitive ewe and lamb to accompany us.
 
The Louise Cake & Chocolate Brownies were burning a hole in our morning tea box, so finding a grassy knoll was mandatory.   





Grassy knolls came with a lot of sheep shit, but surprisingly,  it did not detract from the enjoyment of home baking.










 





Meanwhile, the mists above us continued to swirl, and the sea fog poured onto Wellington Airport in the distance.   









Of course it was important to know where we were going. Bev, lifetime tramper, can read contour maps fluently; Paul, techno-tramper, had a machine that told us our exact altitude at any given step; Bill had his dear old compass, which gave haphazard indications of north from time to time.   
Bill has north!
Bev & Paul compare positions

  


Others had a simpler approach, such as  
Up, or  
Follow Barb.




 
Apart from spectacular views of Cape Palliser and the South Island's Kaikoura ranges,  sandwiched by mists & fog,  the plant and animal life was noted. These are pretty,  puff, puff, puff.  

 







 











 



At the point where the embroiderer announced she would rather be at home, sewing gold beads on the Elizabethan piece,  the techno-tramper announced we were at 450 metres, Ngawi emerged from the fog, and all was well with the world again.







Of course we made it.  



 The swirling mists over the last 100 metres kept  us cool, if a little damp. Precisely on queue the mists swirled away, the Wairarapa world was revealed below us, and Bill confidently indicated north (after a little game of 20 questions).  
 
Paul goes the extra metre, with windsurfer skill



 
It was great to see so much, so far, so clearly....but closer to home, we finally spotted Jakebs Cabins, and was that a solar-powered fridge, with beer, that we could see glinting in the distance? Oh my, it was!! 









 


To say it was around the corner would be gross exaggeration, but there was lightness in our step and songbirds in the trees.  Beer! 









Anna the Quartermaster











 As the sun sank behind the first row of hills, the mist and fog returned. Eerily. Thickly.






We were torn between finishing the giant pavlova and snuggling down into our sleeping bags. Oh, we're big people. We can do both, even if it takes all the torches and a little bit of cooee to find your mate. No confusion could be attributed to Pinot Noir.




  



Day 2 arrived damply.  

Was it mist? Was it cloud? Heaven forbid, was it rain? 








 

 
Families aligned themselves in colour-coded backpack covers, raincoats were donned, and last night's downhill swoop became a bit of an uphill grind back up to the saddle. It certainly wasn't cold. The 4th Damp Factor emerged. Was it sweat? A decision was made to only worry about keeping the lunch & cake dry. 






 

While our first day was uphill, vistas and low scrub, the second was through undulating bush (as in, What part of this is flat??), the clues being Double Saddle Track, Floodgate Gully Saddle, and finally, Kowhai Saddle. Kowhai everywhere. How wonderful that would have been a few months before. We thought about it as we hoed into our box of homemade peanut brownies.  I'll save the apple for later, thanks - Yeah, right! 



 

Undulations became descent as we dropped down onto Pam's Path, through a rewarewa forest in flower. Red heaven.  






 



Sometimes the track was a red carpet.  It was all so pretty, we nearly forgot to have lunch, but then we remembered we had gourmet wraps.  











Paul & Bill forged on down Pam's Path,  keen to get to the "grassy hill" as promised in the journey notes.   It was noted that they were 10 minutes ahead of us, and could still hear us working our way through the Doris Day songbook - Take me back to the black hills, The black hills of Dakota, so forth.


The stunning cabbage tree, at the end of the grassy hill, was the starting point of the true descent to the Purple (now Lilac) Hut.  By the time the Bionic Knee crept, sidled and moaned her way down, Anna & Barb had had a shower, and Paul had stoked up the fuel stove and made a cup of tea to have with our home made lemon cake.  Bill & Bev provided moral support for the Knee, promising half the gin drinkers' supply of ice for the ice bag.




While the Knee reclined on the couch with ice bag, new Listener, cup of tea and lemon cake (tough, tough), Paul & Bill played with their cameras and drank beer,  the true trampers crossed the river to reminisce about DOC huts. 










We'd been walking through wet grass so all the boots needed drying.  At least the true trampers had washed all the seeds and stuff off theirs in the river. 





These are NOT the chops we saw up on the hill.











The Purple Hut was charming and comfortable.  The front verandah caught all the late sun.  


The mounted deer antlers were perfect for drying socks. The fuel stove added ambience, provided more hot water than we needed, and we remembered how to use the oven to heat up the croissants for breakfast. It was agreed that the view from the bathroom window was the winner on the day. 



Journey notes: Wake up to the sound of tui and bellbirds. (Tick).  Have your coffee on the verandah (Tick).  Listen to the sound of the river running by (tick).  Bonus:  greet the runner jogging by!! These extreme athletes are everywhere.
Under starter's orders for the last time. Over & out.



Day 3
Sadly, it was time to head out.  Sun was shining, the rest of the lemon cake was packed, with just 7 flat kilometres ahead.  The Otakaha Stream meandered, and so did we.  





 

 



 









The Black Angus were trying to decide which side of the stream was greener.  That could only mean one thing.  We were getting very close to the front paddock. 

Quickly, quickly. We need a morning tea spot. We still had lemon cake. 



 


 In next to no time we were in familiar territory.

  Sarah, along with the delightful young Isla & Finn, came to farewell us.  The final personal touch. Congratulations, the Furniss family, and thank you for giving us access to this special part of the country.




Back home that night, nibbling on the quiche left over from lunch, and not really feeling very hungry at all, we decided we might just watch our recording of that Country Calendar programme - you know, the one on the Kawakawa Station Walk. Nice.

Saturday, 9 February 2013

Mangatutu Camping 30 Jan to 4 Feb 2013


Turn left at Taradale, and drive for 2 hours to the end of the road, the last hour of which is gravel, increasingly narrow, steep and winding.  Destination: the Kaweka Forest Park, Mangatutu Hot Springs and the mighty Mohaka River. Ma & Pa Camper were going intrepid, albeit with their new 2 room tent with pyjama shelf, coffee percolator, card table and airbed pump. Car camping at its best.

Hawkes Bay, closer to the ranges, looked stunning with a bit more greenery than coastal areas.

The DOC camp was free, and as such provided good spaces to pitch tents, barbecues  to control wanton fire-lighting, picnic tables and benches (grateful thanks to those of us with "knees") and quite acceptable toilets.
 
Water was to come from a nearby stream.




















What we first found was not a stream, and for the purposes of water-gathering,was not nearby. We were a long way above the mighty Mohaka.  Eventually we found the water, 100 metres along the track which goes to Te Puia Lodge. We confess to driving the 500 metres to the end of the track, because water is heavy!! The water oozed from a spring, in a moss-filled fairy dell. There's a rumour than mature, grey-haired women can be heard, and sometimes seen, pouring dipper loads of ice-cold water over themselves, as part of the water-gathering ritual.


There was a surprisingly steady stream of fellow campers, considering how remote we were: families and groups of young travellers, loosely labelled Israelis or Scots, and a man who arrived early in the morning, pitched the tiniest tent, and proceeded to sleep noisily for 24 hours, before disappearing in the morning mist, back to his night shift job in Napier. Oh, how we speculated on his home circumstances.
 


The point of difference for this camp was a Hot Spring. Five minutes walk, and a ten minute clamber (complete with walking poles for some) and we had two hot tubs.










What a grand way to start the day. We found they were a bit hot for end of day, especially when those days exceeded 30 degrees.





 DOC had done an amazing job installing a couple of ex-fish tanks well nestled into the side of the cliff.


 





The journey down was intrepid to say the least.



Five to ten minutes' climb (as opposed to clamber) below the hot pools was the river, worth every second of tree-hugging to get there. Thanks to the recent dry weather, the river chugged along sedately, an eddy here, a rapid there, a perfect temperature for us and the brown trout.













 As the temperature was scorching in our valley, and as we counted the clamber to the hot pool, the climb to the river, and the trip for water all as "exercise" we had to do quite a lot of relaxing.



Extensive use of calomine lotion makes the Quilter look like an Aboriginal dot painting
When we weren't relaxing, or planning our next water excursion, we were planning our next meal, or eating. Quote of the week, after tent erection, from Barb. " I just love being outside - drinking". No rubbish bins meant we had to take our bottles out in one (big) bag. So embarrassing, we left them to be recycled in Onga Onga.
Francie prepares her Mediterranean pasta specialty, surrounded by quality ingredients and equipment.

Assistance provided in the form of verbal encouragement and more wine.
The point is, will this boiling chickpea & pumpkin curry melt the serving bowl?

Damper & bean sprouts anyone? Oh, what's that wine doing there!!
 In a quest for more exercise options, Bill & Bev drove to the helipad (well, how else do you get rich tourists into the Mohaka for a bit of fishing/rafting/shooting?) and decided that the walks were far too up, and the river was still far too down, so they played with their cameras.

Our lunch break on the way in was at Ball's Clearing, a scenic reserve at the end of the tar seal. The sign could also have said "last flush toilet for 6 days".

We decided to return for an outing, enticed by the promise of an outstanding example of a dense virgin podocarp forest, and indeed, it was!

With a spooky little macrocarpa grove on the side




As part of the selling point for getting in the car on a 32degree afternoon, and driving an hour each way on a gravel road, Bill promised us a swim in a stream. This was the most accessible stream, and heaven on a sunny day, although it had all the promise of eels living under every rock. Bill had already frightened off the 4 small brown fish when he landed in the pool first.  Wisely, he kept this to himself until his wife returned to terra firma.





Birdlife abounded at the camp, and we were lucky to have Francie's extensive knowledge of New Zealand birds, as well as her (self-confessed) bat-like hearing. We couldn't go to bed until the moreporks told us we could, at 9.35 pm, on the dot.





The dragonflies were quite enormous, and dazzling, but Snap of the Week goes to this caterpillar. (Marg's camera, Bill's finger, so no votes, thank you very much.)










We planned to come home on Tuesday.  On Monday morning we awoke to the lightest of drizzle, and a forecast for the heaviest of rain that night. It was an unattractive thought to pack up in the rain, especially after 5 dazzling days, but there was a small matter of the ford which would become uncrossable after a relatively small amount of rain.

So goodbye cosy tent bedroom
Goodbye spacious camp site


And hello Onga Onga Recycling Station.