Ruahine Summer Tour 2011

3 Jan. 2011 Parks Peak - late evening
Robb Kloss
John Nash
Pete McGregor


As I write this lying in my tent which is placed upon the lovely mountain meadow on which Parks Peak hut is located I feel content, relaxed, and relieved to be lying here. Pete has his bivvy bag located not far from me, and John is in the hut. I did not feel so content, relaxed, or relieved a few mere hours ago when climbing the ridge. It was a very hot summer day, very little wind, and very heavy packs. I would have thought my mountain foray last week would have held me in good stead, and expected it to do so. Alas, it did not. I struggled and plodded up the steep ridge, pausing for breath and rest, and it was not till just short of 8 hours from leaving the car that I staggered into this meadow.
It occurred to me that in this story I tell here of my love and travel in the mountains, I write most often from the hero's perspective. Travel is light and easy, the mountains speak and the rivers sing as I bound about. It is easy to forget the moments of doubt, or fear, or simply not wanting to climb or descend anymore, of running out of water on a hot day and feeling cramps coming on, or walking for years with a hip not fit for such activity. So today was a very honest day, a reminder that the mountains always hold the upper hand, a reminder of my real place here.
Yet upon arriving and getting into some fresh gear, being handed a cup of sweet tea, and then roaming out a few minutes to overlook the Makaroro valley and watch the colours of a Ruahine sunset with John and Pete. Those hard hours on the ridge seem like a long time ago.



John and Pete on Parks Peak ridge. A long series of climbs behind, a few more ahead. One of those days when I had to remind myself of the reasons I love these places, or perhaps it was the mountains reminding me.

My campsite, and Parks Peak hut with John on the porch behind. Pete was camped not far away.

Overlooking Makaroro valley and the main Ruahine range. Pete, a much finer and more astute photographer than myself, observing the play of light. ( Please visit his awesome photoblog Ruins of the Moment: http://worldsenz.blogspot.com/ , or Pohangina Pete: http://pohanginapete.blogspot.com/ another great place to stop in. What a great spot to let the mountains wash over us after a hard days travel. Not a bad place for a wee dram as well!

A Miromiro (Tomtit) landed on a tawhairauriki right by us and began to sing. In the Maori world the Miromiro represents the light and life, as opposed to dark and death. After my day on the ridge seemingly facing the latter, having the representation of the former appear I took as a very good sign.

The sun begins to fade over the main range , Te Atua Mahuru, Ina Rocks, and Tupari. We took sly bets on how many minutes it would be till the sun sunk below the peaks. None of us won.

Another Ruahine masterpiece sunset painted just for us. How many have I seen in these mountains over the last 18 years? Never will I tire of such an honour.

4 Jan. Upper Makaroro

Upon arriving here mid morning from Parks Peak, John and I dumped our gear in the empty hut and headed down to the pool running through the flat in front of the hut. To be consumed by the bracing coolness and refreshing thrill of the mountain river, and wash the sweat, dirt, grime, and even thoughts of my performance yesterday, to cleanse myself, I felt renewed. I have been baptized in many Ruahine pools.

After many cups of tea, lunch, and a brief siesta, the three of us walked up river. In a very solid moment of connection I wanted to find a waterfall David and Tyson mentioned to me last week in the Maropea. David said it was 2 kilometres or so to the fall, but on a twisting, turning, beautiful wild mountain river how does one tell when a kilometre or so has past? At one point we stopped and agreed a few more bends and we would turn around. Within a few bends we heard a new sound to the river, an urgency and booming beat to the music lie not far ahead.

The fall was spectacular. Not in height, or even the power of it in very low flow like today. Rather, for me, it was the sheer wildness of it, the beauty of seeing her flow, how she completely stopped any forward progress upriver (at least as far as we could read). I dove into the pool in fairly short time. Not as deep a pool as I would have expected, though it falls through the very tight gorge with alacrity. One that makes you realize how privileged we are to be in such a place on a fine day. On an unpleasant one you would not have stood where we did.

A very quiet pool on the Makaroro.

Pete and John, crossing the river. To walk in the summer Ruahine river on a fine day, without pack, and when thirsty simply reach down, grab a few handfuls and feel the extra droplets drip down my chin. Aaaahhh.......

4 Jan. Upper Makaroro - continued

About 5 or 10 minutes up river from the hut we began to spot in the clear aqua pools rainbow trout, their golden and red flashing hidden perfectly in the clear water and the golden red beech leaves on the bottom of the pools. About 20-30 minutes upriver, a whio just blasted out of the the greywacke ahead of us and jetted off up river. It happened so fast I could not get the words out, Pete was focused on something else, but John saw the whio take flight. Of which I was glad or I would not have been sure if it had actually happened. It did. We were with the whio, the Heart and Soul of the Ruahine. Even for the briefest of moments that makes me smile.

This pool was most likely 10-15 feet deep, the deepest on the quiet river, high up the head waters on a very quiet day. Up above it, where I enjoyed this moment, it looked up to my ankles. Notice the tawhairauriki leaves gathering on the bottom. The trout roam there.

Even at the times of quietest flow the watersheds of the Ruahine still are at work. We saw streams running into the river now dry, but then you come across places like this, still releasing some of the countless billions of gallons held in store, the natural surge tanks which must not be altered. When we destroy the tiny trickle above, we destroy ourselves.

The Waterfall. Such a place. The clear cool water, the roar of the river, the looking around and knowing this tight spot would not be nearly as pleasant on a bad day, or times of higher flow. It was wild.

A dip in the pool.

There was no way up from here, or just down below, as far as I could see. Pete and John debated hand and foot holds on the sheer smooth slippery rock. I had my doubts. The consensus seemed to be that it would require rope work and such. All I could think is never forget your party is only as strong as the weakest link. I was happy to swim in the bracing pool. Climbing it was another story.

5 Jan. 2011 Morning Upper Makaroro

John clears the overgrown path to the river, access for drinking water and doing dishes. He is down there with the hut axe and my saw doing hard yards. He is like that. I have no doubt any hut rubbish left previously will end up in his pack. It always ends up just as heavy, or heavier, than when we started. I love that about John.

We have decided to head down river to Barlow, a walk I will be doing now for the third time, but not since 2004 or so with Taylor and Jake, then myself. The river is low but it falls fairly fast from here, so is never "easy".

I could not stop smiling after yesterday seeing the whio on that walk up river. With like minded and gentle souls. I have never learned so much about the insects and birds of the Ruahine as now with Pete. And John who taught me so much early on about observation of the lie of the land, reading a map and compass. We traveled lots of places in the mountains on his expertise. I am lucky to have made such friends.

We sat down by the river before dinner last evening waiting to see if a whio might grace us with its presence. And we sat upon a huge old beech river log brought down by some ancient flood and left. So smooth it seems to be sanded and varnished. I seek it every time I am here.

Pete looking for a route through this narrow pool, John pretty much accepting a deep wade is ahead. It was. Chest deep at least, bracing and cool. On a higher flow day this river would present more problems.

John headed into another pool than from above. The only way through.

Pete making his way through as well.

Lunchtime on the Makaroro. A cup of tea on the sun drenched greywacke along the river. I fell on the river and sprained my ankle. Didn't quite realize the peril of that till it stiffened up at this point. I had a couple real top shelf mates to stir me through. I had a long couple hours ahead.

The river.

5 Jan. Late Afternoon Barlow hut - Makaroro river

I sit outside the hut while Pete and John have a short siesta. I couldn't sleep as my ankle hurts and has swollen up. It is going to be a long slow walk out of here in the morning. Another reminder of the wildness of these places, and the potential risk and danger we face when amongst them. I accept that and wouldn't have it any other way. This was such a beautiful day to be upon the mountain river. Traveling through darkened gorges and fast water with big boulders into calm clear straights where the sunlight hits the water making it sparkle and glimmer, and the sun warmed greywacke rocks seem to glow against the aqua pools. How can I not smile? Hard to write this trip is almost done. I wish we had arranged a few more days now. I am enjoying the place and the company very much.

Robb and Pete.

Robb and John.

* my ankle was very swollen, stiff, and sore. We wrapped it up and I hobbled off well ahead of John and Pete. The river eventually becomes a very wide and braided bed, much easier, if not a bit tedious, to walk down, and in about 4 hours I was at the car. Not too far a drive from there to the Onga Onga pub for a couple very cold beers. Kia ora John, Kia ora Pete, Kia ora Ruahine!