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.
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| 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.
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| Bill has north! |
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| 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).
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| 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!
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
