With a red warning storm on the doorstep, we barrelled out to the Tararuas early on Saturday to go for a wander. Heeding the forecast, we adjusted plans slightly to avoid getting drenched and battered, opting for a day mish, inevitably followed by a warm shower and cozy bed at home.
We arrived at Holdsworth carpark feeling energised. With optimistic chatter of the cloud and mist burning off for a stunner of a day, we set out.
After quite some climb through lush and dewy Tararuas bush, we broke for fuel. It was at this point myself (Liam) and James rejoiced – Anya brought pastries!! We cheerfully snacked on our pan au chocolat, then set back off, still yearning for sunshine. It was around this time that we were joined momentarily by a fluffy friend. A little green pompom flittered in the arms of moss-clad ancient mountain beech (tawhai rauriki).
Finally, we broke from the dark greens and browns into beige. We were on the tops! The sun’s warmth beamed through the cloud, although there was no sign of it showing its face any time soon. Travel was now swift, and we flew up and over ridges. With no new huts to bag, a peak had to make do for James, so we took on Angle Knob.’
Brimming with confidence, I took charge of navigation and steered the crew down from the peak (cognisant we had a good few kilometres to get through before dark). We followed the ridge for a while, yarning about something random. “That boulder doesn’t look so familiar” someone proclaimed. Shit. Naïve of the Tararua’s foggy ridges, I’d followed the wrong one. So sheepishly, we spun on our heels and took off back the way we came, helped by the guiding hand of NZ Topo 50.
From this point, heads went down, and the pace went up. We descended past Jumbo Hut back into the bush without so much as a glimpse of a view through thick mist. Then we followed the trail down towards the river, where it snaked along the valley. Once we reached Atiwhakatu Hut at the valley floor we inquisitively stuck our heads in, only to be greeted by a mob of preschoolers! “Everyone over the age of 3 walked themselves here”, a parent explained, whilst the kids ran rampant. “How old are you Jeremy?” one parent asks. “Three and eleven twelfths” he replies after some thought. A quick look inside was enough for us as we struggled to match the energy of ten excited kids, just free from several hours of walking.
We then followed the river back down the valley to return to the car. This section was fairly uneventful, bar one last chance encounter with an NZ falcon (kārearea). It had just bombed some unfortunate prey, which by the time we got there was a mess of light grey feathers. Hoping it was a Canadian goose and not a kereru, we continued off down the trail, where we soon reached the car, marking the end of our adventure.