Trip to Roaring Stag

After a slightly bleary-eyed 7.30am meet on the Saturday morning, a club minibus jam-packed with sleepy trampers left for the Tararuas in hot pursuit after Illona‚Äôs car. As a tramping-virgin, I had been warned about the mysteriously misty, murky and muddy Tararuas and had sat through various club presentations picturing drizzly-looking forest and decidedly damp-looking … Read more