Maropea

29 December 2010 Top Maropea
Robb
After an almost two week wait for the weather to come right, my son Taylor decided he had better things to do with his girlfriend and mates. At 17 can't say I blame him. So I took off myself when the forecast looked promising. And at least today it was as I sit here now at Top Maropea. I must write that I do miss the company of my matamua tama (eldest child). Taylor was with me a little over a year ago when this was as far as I could get on a trip planning to go far deeper but stopped as my hip hurt too much. So it would have been cool to share the smile on my face today with him.
And I was starting to feel a bit nervous and anxious about why I just did not go anyway with Taylor, and bugger the forecast. I have done it before. I realized today on my own that is my choice but to put my tamariki (children) in harms way would simply be irresponsible. The mountains always clear my foggy head and bring clarity.
It is always a pleasure to cross Armstrong saddle on a relatively wind free day, particularly now when the high alpine tussock and plants are in flower, and the mountain world is lit up with the shimmering brilliance of the small and short lived mountain flowers as the more muted golden browns and greens burst into life. Wind free days are rare here. It is the weather itself which keeps this place wild and relatively unintruded upon. So days like today are to be enjoyed, and I met a man at Sunrise who had never been to the Ruahine so I walked with him out to the saddle and showed him the lie of land, and then carried on here.
This is my 28th night spent here. I have arrived here with some wonderful people. Tony, Nigel, John Nash, Taylor, Rick, Steve, Gustav, Adam, Tara, Jeff, John Streat, Scott, and Ethan.Some only once, some many times. All I toast now.
I love it here. Truly my most special place in the Ruahine - of many such special and unique places for me, each holding it's own charms, beauty, and nuance in my soul.
Yet this was my first. The first time looking out at the Maropea valley and the ranges beyond over 13 years ago, I was moved by the wildness and beauty. I now know those places well, have traveled to and from here in every direction. I am still moved by this view as if it were my first visit and I am laying my eyes upon all this for the first time.
I am now completely shrouded in by cloud and mist. The newly painted bright orange hut less than 10 metres away from me is enveloped in mist and glowing. I am truly Cloud Hidden. I am Home.

Looking over Camel Back spur and the Maropea valley beyond.

Armstrong saddle and headwaters of the creek leading to the Maropea river far below.

Dropping into the forest above Top Maropea. These colours just jumped out at me.

Top Maropea hut overlooking the Maropea valley.

After a tea of garlic infused sirloin steak, with mushrooms and broccoli steamed in tarragon what a great way to end the day.

30 December, 2010 5:30 am

I am wide awake enjoying a cup of strong coffee. The day looks to be brilliant, very little wind and blue sky as far as I can see within my westerly confined view. I am putting a few items in my pack and heading back up the spur to climb Te Atuaoparapara (which is the far left peak above pictured from just where one emerges from the forest above Top Maropea). I have always wanted to do it, but have always been either coming or going, and so while I have looked upon from afar many many times I have never been introduced properly.

Looking down Maropea valley just approaching Te Atuaoparapara. A view I love from a new perspective.

Getting closer. The route takes a very steep desent down before starting to climb onto the flanks. Just as I got here, the cloud started swirling in from the north east.

Like another world amongst the shattered and battered greywacke.

Not a good place to fall.

The connecting spur between Camel Back ridge and the mountain.

Just getting onto the flanks, the top in view. About 20 minutes past here the cloud completely rolled over the mountain and just sat there. Being rather narrow and steep and thick with tupare I decided the top of Te Atuaoparapara could be left for another day. At least we met one another properly.

The cloud rolls in and the choice is made to retreat. Much easier to decide on my own.

Getting back to the hut at lunchtime I decided I had plenty of time to also drop down to the Maropea river, as on such a beautiful day conditions for a river walk were perfect. All I needed were my camera and poles. Above is just below the hut entering the cool forest, which after being in the high mountain blazing sun all morning was fantastic.

Heading down to the creek.

A good look at the steepness and ruggedness of this Ruahine country. This is dropping down to the creek and then river, on a final decent of near vertical proportions.

A favourite side creek about to meet the main river. The river was very low, I walked up the river proper for over an hour and hardly got my boots wet! Never experienced in my 20 plus trips here.

Still, the amazing clarity and brilliance of the beech leaves and pebbles flashing beneath the glass like surface makes my heart sing.

Normally this is a fairly sizeable pool. Today I just hopped along the very warm and true hard gripping river stones and only got wet feet when I wanted a drink from such a lovely pool and have a splash.

How cool to watch such a river in such a mellow moment, her song still loud, clear, and resonant. I have also seen this river very angry, dirty and roaring. So these moments are to be savoured.

As I continued down river I saw approaching two hunters. Strapped on the pack of one was a rather large stag head. The largest I have seen in the ranges. I thought my solitude and tranquility at the hut might be ended. But it is summer, and I am not the only one in these mountains. As I approached them, one of the hunters was looking at me and said "You're Robb Kloss - I read your blog, and I met you years back at Parks Peak." Indeed it was 2005 and I was with an American mate and we spent two nights with a then very young David (above) and his mate Mike, who were fly fishing for trout. A very enjoyable experience. David has since found my blog and has continued roaming the Ruahine as well. An excellent chap, as was his mate Tyson. They had spent 5 days crossing the Ruahine, fishing and hunting, and had shot this huge 10 point Red Stag, and were carrying out the huge head and rack and a large amount of meat.

Tyson and David, about to head up a now windy saddle and out to the car park - a major hike with these loads at night. Two young men finding out what carrying out a load of meat from such country is all about. They were pretty knackered already and had another major walk to where David's wife was picking them up at midnight. I talked to him today and they made it, very glad to get to the car. And the head has impressed many in the know - Ruahine racks generally do not get that sort of spread. Well done David and Tyson, on your first crossing of the Ruahine, enjoying its offerings, and appreciating what a special place it is. Well done!

30 December 2010 Evening

I have enjoyed one of my finest days ever in the Ruahine, and I enjoy them all. I climbed a mountain, I slaked my thirst and was embraced by the mountain river. I walked quietly in the coolness of the high forest. I met an old Ruahine friend and made a new one. I am no child, but today I found one still lurking inside me. It was good to hug him.

* I am off in a days time for another 4 days in the Ruahine with my old tramping mate John Nash and fellow Ruahine traveler Pohangina Pete. Looking forward to it. A Nature Filled and Peaceful New Year to all!

Aroha,

Robb

Days Gone By : Farewell 2010 and Peaceful Yuletide

As I grow older I seem to measure the passing of time differently. The lessons of life, the mental and physical battles we endure, the daily grind of paying bills and raising a family, and suddenly that young buck who used to be looking back at me in the mirror has become my father. In the mountains it is easy for me to become absorbed by the natural rhythms of my environment - such as my poem Mountain Time a few posts ago. Not so easy out here, but I am growing and still learning. As this year comes to end, I look back on my favourite mountain moments, some no doubt quite ordinary. But when a year ago I wondered if I would ever return to the Ruahine, ordinary is actually pretty exceptional.

The smile on my face above, and just the quiet countenance I felt within me, says it all. It was June, a little over 3 months since my hip had been replaced, and Charlie accompanied me on my first journey back into the mountains. I was nervous and tentative, like a first date when I was a teenager. So to get up to Sunrise with a heavy pack and pain free and have the whole Ruahine to ourselves on a picture perfect couple of days was almost too much. Charlie came out and found me watching the sun begin to set and I was sitting there with tears rolling down my face. He just sat down next to me and didn't say a word. A little while later he took the photo above.

Charlie out on Armstrong saddle. Originally I wished he had been looking at me but as this photo has come through the year I have grown to appreciate he is not. To have Charlie there with me as I was reunited with the Ruahine was an honour and a pleasure.

Charlie on a section of the track to Sunrise when suddenly the tawhairauriki appear in this gorgeous little brimming spot, and you know the open tops are near.

In July my mate Gustav came over from Tasmania. We spent 4 days in the Ruahine, retracing backwards a few steps made years ago. Being kicked back above, tin cup in hand and wood gathered, being at a cool mountain spot celebrating my 50th birthday, being in the mountains again with a brother of spirit and soul. I love the wet upside down boots on the end of the porch, their work done. I will never take any moment in the mountains for granted.

It is places like this in the forest where I am just staggered by the presence of the forest and just stop to absorb the energy. There is a lot going on here.

I have been across this particular place many times, and always have loved it, the colours and symmetry. Before this July with Gustav I have never managed a photo, most often as the weather has been either raining, snowing, windy, or all the above, and this is not a place to stop and fall. You would not stop until hitting the river, and then most likely swept down near by rapids very quickly. So on this day I left my pack on the far side of the slip and carefully walked back out to where I could observe this view. A personal favourite photo.

A week before Gustav arrived in late July I ventured solo onto the southern end of the Hikurangi, the highest range of the five which make the Ruahine. I spent another 4 days on my own, again walking up on a perfect day. Through the forest the far off active volcanoes on the The Rim of Fire, Ruapehu, Ngarahoe, and Tongariro shimmered in the distance, the sunlight making the snow look like shiny glass. Aotearoa is a beautiful, but volatile land.

Just before sunrise in the high Ruahine, as the open tops meet the bushline, and in in this part a stunning Kaikawaka forest. The trees with this new blanket of frost and snow to me were speaking to each other, some mouths agape, others quietly listening or rolling their eyes, personalities and character revealed in the quiet early morning. The mountain lives! Mid July 2010.

The winter climb is almost done. I love the mountains best in winter. Wild, raw, enter at your own peril.

Charlie and the Ruahine. He is a well equipped mountain traveller. Oh, to be 8 and have those mountains out there to discover! I didn't find my mountains till I was almost 35. So these will do for me. I hope Charlie finds his own mountains as well, whatever, and wherever they may be. He will always be connected here. October 2010.

Charlie and I. October 2010. Overlooking the Oroua valley. We had an excellent day and evening.

The elusive high mountain forest Ruahine elf. Seldom seen but I spotted this one a few times for some reason on this day. He was just scampering ahead of me and I was lucky to have my camera at the ready.

The late spring north eastern Ruahine. Another view I will tire never of seeing. And to view it again a mere month ago makes that very moment unfold as I close my eyes. I spent another 4 days alone in the mountains, the weather turned cold and nasty, but I was Home. November 2010.

My favourite high mountain meadow. I have spent many days here wandering about, and look forward to the next.

Looking out the door of the hut by the river. The music of the river endless, joined by a water fall which can be seen falling down the slip face near the top left hand side. I have seen Whio fly down or up the river as I sat here or just outside. How can I not appreciate I am here, and that I want to return? I was smiling.

The mountain river. Soothing, restorative, yet temperamental. November 2010.

The enveloping high mountain corridor of tawhairauriki. A path I am blessed to have discovered and will always try to remain upon its winding path.

Charlie about to be introduced to the high mountain pool last month. I still smile and chuckle at this moment. November 2010 - a nice spring day but a very very cold pool!

In a few weeks time my oldest son Taylor and I will head into the mountains for another 4 -5 day mountain journey. He suggested it so how can I refuse? It is the best Christmas present he could possibly give me.

I started this place a bit over three years ago not really imagining I would have something to write about these mountains and wild places for as long as I have. What I have found within me is that each and every encounter I undertake with these mountains is new and fresh and fills me with inspiration. As does the presence of those who read here and the sharing of your thoughts which has also led me to your own places in this world. It is a very cool process, an enjoyable community from around the world.

So to those whom tune in here, Kia ora! Please have a peaceful, and nature filled Yuletide Season. Ti hei mauri ora!

Aroha,

Robb and the entire Kloss family

Song of the Tawhairauriki - Mountain Beech (submitted for the Festival of Trees 54)

There is a ridge in the Ruahine mountain range of Aotearoa (New Zealand) which for me is a magical and spiritual place. Up high at around 1300 metres the tawhairauriki (mountain beech) become gnarled and twisted as they fight the elements of the thin mountain soil, the prevailing and often gale force northwest winds, the rain, sleet, and snow as they seem to cling precariously to the mountain.

Especially around sunrise or sunset they take on an ethereal presence. As if they are the maunga tipua, or mountain guardian spirit. The gnarled branches become limbs reaching to the sky both beseeching and defiant. The mosses and lichens clinging to them become like the furs of warriors at momentary rest from an endless battle. And their defiance also speaks to the intrusion of man in such places as if to cry out,"Leave us be. You do not Listen. We accept our lot

as keepers of the tipua, but cannot abide your roads into our souls, the pollution and damming of our pure waters, and the ripping apart of our very bowels as you plunder our essence - we offer you so much with our mere presence and yet you steal what should sustain you the most - WHY!"

This is a place I always walk softly and quietly, and I listen to these voices. The song of the Tawhairauriki.

Please visit http://festivalofthetrees.wordpress.com

Whakamoemiti (Thanksgiving)

The above photo is a little blurry, a little out of focus. It was taken a few years ago when my friend Jeff was visiting from the states, and along with John, we headed into the Ruahine for a few days of mountain wandering. On this day we left our gear at the hut and climbed up to the tops. Always a pleasure to walk through the layers of the forest, leaving the river muttering below and climbing into the tussock and then the clouds. Only for me, on this day, it was not a pleasure. My hip hurt dreadfully, I could literally feel and hear bone grinding upon bone, and during the climb up all I wanted was to be done with it. On the way down I told Jeff and John to walk ahead as I was holding them back, that I would make my own way down. It was the first time I realized the true extent of my problem, and the anger I felt at my body disintegrating at this moment here with a treasured friend, friends, was palpable. The truth of what the real meaning of this all meant to my even being in these places filled me with dread and fear. It was not my best moment in the mountains.

Then, slowly struggling down the steep spur, I heard a sound I could not place. I thought at first it was a bird call I had not heard before, but as I got further down I realized it was the music of a harmonica. Only two people I know carry harmonicas in the mountains, my friend Jeff, and me, and Jeff gave me mine. I stopped above him and just listened, to the forest, to the music, and I just watched him amongst these mountains, so comfortable and so at home on this mossy knoll high in the forest. My friend had waited for me to make sure I was okay. In possibly the lonliest moment in my life, a good friend sat below me patiently waiting for ME. First hearing, and then seeing, his presence sent a rush of warmth through my entire being. So the photo is a bit out of focus as my vision was a bit out of focus, washed by tears of realization that I have such people, such places in my life. That somehow I would rise up and meet the challenges ahead. That these mountains will never leave me. I am part of them. I am thankful for that.

Mountain tipua (Guardian Spirit)

The silhouettes of the tawhairauriki against the setting sky I have always felt connected to and deeply moved by. As if they are the true soul or tipua of the mountains themselves, wise teachers whom we can choose to learn from or not. Both defiant and beseeching to the heavens above. As if they are saying " We will deal with the northwest gales, the damp and cold, the snow and sleet, the thin mountain soil into which we spread our roots, that is our lot. But you self important human abusers of the Papatuanuku, you we cannot bear because you do not come in Peace, and so I thrust my fingers and limbs to the sky in defiance and warning you to stop. You are only here for a brief moment, and refuse to learn what the mountains Teach and you do not Listen. Our friendship has been refused. No mines, no dams, no roads, no poisoning of our pure waters. Leave us alone".

I am Thankful for the Mountain Lessons as well.

I am Thankful for the many beautiful pieces to my life. My family and friends far and near, my beautiful wife whom I watch unfold into a more amazing woman each day, my sons, Taylor and Charlie offering each moment the ups and downs of parenthoood as they both also unfold into themselves.

I am thankful for the people whom visit here, your presence and encouragement are a constant source of inspiration.

In this moment though right here right now, I am most Thankful to the mountains. For finding me, for saving me, for teaching me how to Listen. For giving the strength and fortitude to find my way back to something I nearly lost. It has been a very good year.

Happy Whakamoemiti!

Aroha,

Robb

A Brief Tale of Sons and Fathers

Two experienced Ruahine travelers.

This beautiful mountain waterfall and pool lies in the Ruahine around 1150 metres or so. As one approaches the golden tussock and open tops it is a lovely sight to come upon with a heavy pack and know some hard graft is done, take off the pack and rest and reward myself with the taste of pure mountain water. I have visited it many times now, coming and going, and have always loved this little spot. The water is most often ice cold, the tupare in front and glistening in the sun will tell you this place is relatively high up. Tupare only starts appearing when you have reached 900 metres plus. So this crystal clear, cold, pure water is born from the high slopes indeed. It has always called strongly to be dove into, but my burdens going up or down have never allowed me.

On a recent walk Charlie did just that. He stopped here and gazed upon this pool for the first time. He drank from it, felt the tingling coldness. Up higher on the tops, where we were for the afternoon and a nice lunch, he decided he wanted to swim in that pool. He has seen many photos of me "swimming" in ice cold Ruahine pools and this was his time to be introduced to exactly what that means. We were in no hurry, so we walked back down to that pool, 10 minutes or so, him barefoot wearing only a pair of shorts, which as obviously above he soon shed. His clenched little fists tells the whole story of the pucker one feels upon entering the bracing chill of the mountain water. He was weighing it all up. His mind working furiously no doubt, all quickly ending up at the inevitable realization that this water is far farking colder than he thought!

Yes, Charlie, the relative shelter of escape is near, just right behind you.

But in he goes! I am not sure who yelled louder. Charlie, screaming and frantically extracting himself, or me, out of being proud that Charlie understood this moment perfectly without me uttering a word, just being there. And also laughing my head off watching him actually dive in that freezing pool. We stood in the sun as he shivered and dried. I took off my own shirt to wipe him down a bit, but it is always best to let the mountain breeze dry off the moisture. You tingle, you are Alive!

I love the similarity between me, above, and Charlie in the third photo above. A different place to be sure, deeper in the Ruahine, but I am still singing the "Can I extract myself from this Ruahine Blues".

You never REALLY thought I would back away did you?

Aroha,

Robb