Summer Wanderings 2008

3 Jan. 2008, 5:30 a.m. Sunrise hut : I sit on the porch of Sunrise hut, alone with my cup of tea. And though the spreading illumination of the rising sun will soon rouse others from their sleep, this moment is mine alone. It has been far too long since I have interacted with the Ruahine ranges, and though they do not miss my presence, I have missed them terribly. The walk up in the early evening yesterday was a good way to reacquaint myself, as well as John, or in Jonathan's case be introduced to them, and two hours just enough to start with heavy packs. We sat up late into the evening, in our excitement, and yet I still found it easy to be up and ready to get to work. I already feel the magic. What will the next six days bring?

The Maropea river is as low as I have ever seen it, and this is my 13th venture down the river. The route, though always subtly changing, seems to instinctively guide me and pull me to all the right places to cross, or climb up to a benched bank for easy walking. Johnathan seems amazed, the crossing of the saddle was a windy one, John was knocked over once, and he soon realized the Ruahines beyond Sunrise is a different proposition. I keep an eye out near the familiar spots where in the past I have seen Whio, but none are around today, or I have just walked past them. Perhaps they are up in a cooler side stream, as it is hot and steamy even up here in the mountains.




5:30 p.m. 3 Jan. 2008 : Maropea Forks hut. This is my 14th visit to this lovely integral place, arriving here sometimes with other special people, other times alone. This place holds for me the memories of so many journeys into the mountains. In my mind, away from here, this is a place I often wander to escape the daily toils of the world. Yet, in my 14 visits here, my 14 plus years of traveling in these ranges, I have just now experienced the most disconcerting and disturbing incident in all that time. We arrived here after a 7 hour day on the ridge and river from Sunrise, settled in and sat on the porch with a cup of tea, when we heard the god awful thumping and muttering of a helicopter flying up the valley and landing outside the hut. It sat there as the pilot obviously saw us on the porch, I suspect debating whether to fly to another hut, then disembarked and came over stating he had 4 hunters aboard in for 5 days and that was that. They unloaded and he took off. The 4 hunters stood there amongst the coolers, suitcases, and gun bags, then trudged over to the hut, no doubt as disappointed to see us, as we were them. It was very awkward as only one hunter, the leader, tried to make any conversation, and that mainly around where there might be any deer about. So we went from complete seclusion to 7 people in a 6 bunk hut - they had no provisions for camping, merely assumed the hut would be theirs for 4 nights. I have spent many more than 14 nights here, and suspect I was long due for a meeting with other trampers, or even walk in hunters, but I found the intrusion of a helicopter very disturbing. It took them 7 minutes to fly in, us 7 hours to walk, and the differences in which we viewed the Ruahines were astounding. They had no interest in any intrinsic value to the mountains, merely saw them as a game range for potential hunting, the helicopter simply a time saving device. 7 minutes and 7 hours and never the twain shall meet. Do they hear the breezes blowing through the beech, the music of the side creeks joining the symphony of the river, or even simply appreciate the view? I think this is a huge issue, and as I write in my notebook, and feel tears well in my eyes, I feel in my heart the time has come to be a voice outside here for the Ruahines as best I can. How can I protect the mana heke iho of this place?

We were going to stay here for two days but will instead head over Puketaramea ridge and Otukota hut in the morning. The one advantage of their landing here and not flying off to another hut, is that we would then have known there would have been chopper hunters at either Otukota or Wakelings, and would have run into them at sometime. Might as well be now. I lost some of my naive Ruahine innocence today.



















4 Jan. 2008 5:19p.m. : Otukota hut. Sitting in the shade outside the hut, the sun has been blasting at us all day long. Except for our initial grey sky, and in my case mood, ascent up to Puketaramea ridge from Maropea Forks. It drizzled on us and was very windy and cool as we worked our way up the spur, and once on the ridge we even were forced to don warmer gear and rain jackets for a bit. But after a wee bit of trouble finding the route through the open tops of Puketaramea, again as in 2000, the skies cleared, the sun shone, and my mind slowly gave itself to the beauty and energy of the forest ridge. I am forced to walk at a much slower pace due to my hip, yet this, aside from some pain, does not trouble me, the energy here is intense and I feel it flowing through me. The mosses and lichens literally glow in the sunlight, the ferns brush our legs with a gentle swhish, and the big beeches seem to pulsate in the sunlight. This is just what I need. Yesterday seems like a lifetime ago.

Taunga no te mauri (Inner Calm)

My path today was walked
as if in my own life
the search for inner calm always a battle
the words choke inside me
and I fight for air
the pain inside me which I own
the hurt inflicted upon me
perhaps deserved
the ups and downs of my own existence
mimic my thoughts on this ridge
Then there is the beauty
of seeing through enlightened eyes
if only briefly
moss and lichen illuminated by the sunlight
filtering through the forest
my sons being born
You
and You
Yet always I will wonder
in my dark moments
Are you through with me?

5 Jan. 2008 Otukota hut, 7:20 a.m. : I sit with my strong early morning coffee trying to drive the sleep from my eyes. I am sore and body is tired and I am very happy today will be a rest day. I can hear the Waikamaka river below the hut some 50 meters, and I suspect, as does the barometer, these few early morning clouds will burn away leaving us with another brilliant day. I can feel myself sinking into the connection I seek with this place, or myself?, and I want to remember this moment vividly so I can drink deeply from the memory of it later on. I feel like a child with the whole day ahead to do nothing but play.


5:50 p.m : What an incredible day this has been. I walked up river a few hours on my own and returned. It is a very big and lush river and will be much more of a challenge in the morning with a big pack. John and I spent hours in the afternoon roaming from pool to pool diving into the chilling embrace of the river. I have never experienced swimming like this in the Ruahines, when even in summer a quick and cold dive normally suffices. Today we were embraced by the river, swimming for hours, then drying in the hot sun, only to swim again. The bush around this valley is in very good shape, the spurs and ridges thick with trees and absent of the common feature slips for the most part. Even around the hut lie an abundance of flowers, mosses and lichens, perhaps the finest display of Lancewood, both juvenile and adult, I have seen, and even the cabbage trees are in flower, which I have never seen. I think we have all lost the sense of time and urgency pressed upon us in the world after 4 days here. We should all have the time to look at a flower in great detail.

Exuberance
I frolicked in the river today
with exuberance
the emerald pools
embraced my soul
tingling and soothing
allowing me
to enjoy her touch
as opposed
to our more frequent
and brief icy dances
I lay upon her
sun warmed rocks
and I listened
it was good to know
I can still reach

the child within

6 Jan. 2008 11:50 a.m. : Along the Waikamaka river : Time for a cup of tea in Nigel's old billy. Those billies have done some traveling in these ranges and for all the new fangled contraptions and devices they still work as good as any, and there is something very comforting about pulling them from my pack to boil a brew, dented and dinged but still up to the job. The Waikamaka, at least down lower by Otukota hut, is a big river, and technically a harder river to negotiate with a big pack. It is very gorgy, with huge boulders and log jams to be climbed over, and must be crossed carefully. We are fortunate the day is lovely once again and the river is low. I suspect it would be a real brute with even normal flow and certainly not negotiable if it was high. In addition to the river is the fact we are also climbing, from around 560 meters at Otukota, to around 850 up at Wakelings. I am ready for a cup of tea.









6 Jan. 2008 4:50 p.m. : Wakelings hut : I must focus on the here and now as already the end of this experience draws ever closer. Jonathan has walked up river to try and spot the Whio family nearby. I see Pete's name in the hut book and no doubt close by is where he took those wonderful shots of the Whios and chicks. I think I would burst into tears if I saw them right now. John is cleaning up the hut, all the bits and pieces of food and rubbish left behind. I rather think John's pack ends up heavier coming out than going in as he collects debris from our stops without fail or hesitation. This is the third time I have been here, but the first time I have had time to relax and enjoy the area. Back in 2003 John and I called in for a cuppa and to get out of the rain before heading up river to camp, and 2001 with Rick and Steve it was pissing down with rain and we simply curled up in the hut with a fire. It is a beautiful area, a lovely river straight runs down from the back of the hut with Te Atuaoparapara looming over the valley, some excellent swimming holes lie about, and this is our reward for a long river bash.

7 Jan. 2008 10:15 a.m. : On the ridge dividing the Waikamaka and Maropea valleys. I am alone, having left Wakelings hut early this morning on my own. Both for a bit of solitude and practical reasons due to my slower pace. I am where the ridge begins to descend steeply to the Maropea and I will wait for John and Jonathan to catch me, and I suspect they are not far behind. I enjoy climbing through the forest, and even at a slow steady pace it always amazes me how quickly height is gained. There are no open tops on this ridge, but yet it offers excellent views at certain points, and the forest walk is wonderful. It is very dry here, the greens somewhat muted storing its moisture I suppose, and a very distinctive tarn I recall on my two prior walks here is completely dry, the colour of rust, yet still soft and spongy. If I could, and one day will, I would find a spot in the forest, pitch my tent, and just sit there all day and night listening to the sounds of the high forest, absorb the energy of the twisted and stunted beeches, and fall asleep amongst the trees. But not today, I would imagine we are another hour or so from Maropea Forks, and then after a rest there, we will head up river to Top Maropea for our final night.

7 Jan. 2008 6:30 p.m. Top Maropea hut : It has finally begun to rain, and the sound of rain beating on the tin roof of Top Maropea is one I know well. This will be my 24th night spent here. My 25th will have to be a special occasion, though aren't they all here in this first place I stayed in the Ruahine ranges? It is somewhat melancholic to be here ending a trip, rather than beginning one, and though there is a fine line between melancholy and darkness it is a feeling I am riding with and I am fine.
It has been a long day, 4 hours from Wakelings to Maropea Forks, then another 4.5 hours from the forks to here. I have been toting along a small amount of Jameson's 12 year old Irish whiskey, a slightly sweet and nutty nectar, and will surprise the boys with a final little treat soon. As I suspected, the helicopter hunters left no entry in the hut book, the hut was clean but smelled like a greasy meat factory. We found a smelly deer haunch turfed into the bush near the hut, and a dead carcass, minus said haunch lie further up the river. The helicopter still seemed to echoe for me there.
John prepares the fire, always a challenge here at Top Maropea. Yet it soon crackles and roars under his expert tutelage We have lived simply and honestly for the past week. These are things I always strive to take back out into the world with me, but somewhere amongst all the responsibilities, requirements, and consumerism, it always seems to get harder to apply these lessons elsewhere. Yet simplicity and honesty are the very things Tara and I are striving for out there so I need to keep focused on what I feel here. Perhaps I need to, much like arriving at a spot like this at the end of a long day, just appreciate each day for the small things, or at least try to.
Aroha

Yuletide Depression

It is always a bit depressing for me this time of the year, my 15th holiday season away from my original place and family. Not that my blueness stems from not having all the traditional Christmas trimmings around me, and certainly not the religious aspects of the season. Rather, and simply, thoughts of home, the Wisconsin winter, gentle snowfalls illuminated by the admittedly over the top lights, but still etched in my mind from youth. As I get older the past seems to take on more meaning, the future less in some ways. I find little joy or excitement in Christmas, except perhaps in that of my son Charlie. Even those reasons evolve around false conceptions only waiting to be destroyed for him as well. Maybe it is because now I am the one trying to figure out how to participate, and pay for it all, or worse, accept gifts I do not deserve.
I drive by the local mall here in Palmerston North during work and see it loaded day after day with cars and people out in droves buying stuff and more stuff. I read daily updates in the newspaper about how the retailers are feeling "the season" is progressing. If I walked into the Warehouse, our local Shopko type store, I am sure I would run out screaming within a few minutes.
I feel a bit depressed just writing this, knowing my words are more or less for my eyes alone. My attempts to share thoughts seem to have gone mostly unnoticed, or acknowledged with vague, brief emails. Certainly not the conversation starter amongst family and friends I had envisioned. It may be time to return to the old fashioned notebook. Plus I have been reading a few blogs which only serve to point out my shortcomings as a blogger and a writer. My friend Joe from Ripon college and his blog Gumption, and a fellow I wrote earlier about in this forum, Pete, whom I met at Iron Gate hut years ago. Both far more observant, intelligent, and more capable of stirring thought and response than I am.

I need a trip to the mountains. It has been too long, and though I have a 6 day trip in early January with John, I need even just a solo night out by myself before too much darkness engulfs my soul. I don't know why I am feeling this way to be truthful. In terms of how the year 2007 has progressed I would state miles ahead of 2006, perhaps the most single stressful, and strange year of my life. My marriage is probably as stable as it can be, which does not exactly fill me with confidence, but maybe marriage is not supposed to automatically fill us with confidence. In any case sitting here writing this I am not consumed by a need to rush off and listen to Tom Russell's excellent 2006 cd Love and Fear as I probably was last year. It has been hard work to bring us back from the brink. It is always hard work to recognize weakness or faults in ourselves that might contribute to a break down of a marriage or ourselves, even harder for two people to even think it is worth saving anyway. Yet I have wrestled, and continue to, with my personal demons, and Tara has undergone immense personal changes, finding a purpose and great passion in her soul in simply caring about people no one else seemingly wants to care about. Her sense of out rage at the treatment of the worlds indigenous peoples has made my life better - is that not a strange conundrum. My problem has never been being in love with Tara, but more so her loving herself. Now maybe my problem is allowing myself to be loved so I can love in return.

These are things I should be thinking about at Top Maropea.

I don't know if I will continue with this blog in the new year. Perhaps I am just better off with my notebook and pen. My friend Joe might disagree, as his passion is using technology to connect people, as he has done, and does for a living. Yet I have only connected with myself, and I can do that just as easily with an old note book, a cold beer, and some photos, so it makes me wonder.

Indeed it has been an interesting year. I awoke very early this morning, consumed by thought and having dreamt about my friend Kevin for the first time in a long while. He killed himself at 15, I still do not why. Last year while in the states I had lunch with an old friend, Julie. I had not seen her in over 20 years. She suffered from cancer after high school, and is now battling hepatitis C, a virtual death sentence. When we sat down she took my hand and said the first thing she needed to talk about was Kevin. I was blown away and for the first time in 32 years I cried for my friend with someone who knew him. I have had 32 years Kevin could have never imagined. Thank you Julie for that gift you gave to me.

My favourite music of 2007 :

1. We'll Never Turn Back by Mavis Staples

Produced and arranged by Ry Cooder, perhaps the worlds finest slide guitarist, this album would most encapsulate the changes Tara has gone through, it is a powerful work by one the finest woman singers America has to offer. She can stand side by side with Aretha, Etta James, Billie Holiday, any of them. And these so called modern diva's, well forget about it. These are mostly traditional black American songs of longed for freedom, oppression, and desire for equality, human rights, and general over view of not just southern America, but all of it. Also included are a few tunes written by Cooder and Staples, and the highlight a stunning version of the JB Lenoir classic Down in Mississippi. The songs do not date because the cause and meaning behind them have sadly not dated either. A powerful statement upon America by Mavis Staples.

2. Leaving Paradise by Tama Waipara

An Aotearoa offering by a New York Kiwi. Not favoured by all I know, but I think it is outstanding, if not simply for one song alone, Leaving Paradise. It transplants me to the Ruahines and that says it all..

3. Mischief by Beoga

This an offering by an Irish band, which puts a somewhat different slant to traditional Irish sound, sometimes jazzy, sometimes bluesy, but all good. A very cool cover of Dirty Work by Steely Dan.

4. Dirt Farmer by Levon Helm

The wonderful Levon Helm's first offering in 25 years. Levon suffered throat cancer in the late 90's and resigned himself to never singing again. His studio burnt down, and his long time friend and brilliant musician Rick Danko died. Helm fought through the depression wrought by all this and rediscovered his voice - not the powerful timbre of The Band days, yet still wholly recognizable and fitting with his choice of music. That is mainly old timey music from his youth and the inescapable line drawn to the tunes world changing music of The Band. Sounds like The Band unplugged having a jam.

5. Try Me One More Time by David Bromberg

Another 25 year between drinks offering by a maestro acoustic guitar, violin, and mandolin player. David tired of the music scene in the 1980's and retired to Chicago where he took up mandolin and violin making. He became one of the most sought after instrument makers in the world before, as he says, finding his mojo again, and putting out this stunner. I was literally shaking as I put this on and was not disappointed, entirely Bromberg on his own and every second a gem. An American musical icon, if unheralded among us common folk, he is certainly revered by his peers, story teller and player extraordinaire.

I feel better just writing words about music. Well that is it from me. Might see ya again might not. Happy Yuletide to one and all. I leave with the words of Edward Abbey:

"May your trails be crooked, winding, and leading to the most amazing views. May your mountains rise into and above the clouds..." - taken from Tom Russell's amazing cd Hotwalker, song 10, Benediction : Edward Abbey. Anyone who thinks they understand, or should understand, or wants to understand, even a little bit about America needs to listen to this cd from top to bottom without disturbance. Ka kite.

Anticipation

John gazing across Parks Peak ridge and Makaroro valley to main range

It has been awhile since I have ventured forth into the mountains. My solo journey to Maropea Forks and blizzard enforced stay at Top Maropea back in early August being my last adventure. I must remedy that and have felt inspiration from other places to do so very soon. Part of the reason for my absence has been a lingering and persistent pain in my hip, which has been now diagnosed as arthritis. At least knowing is some relief, and now I must simply learn to live with it. The only way for me to find out how much it will truly impact my life is to find out in the mountains. It has been bothering me for over a few years now, so it is not a new element for me to deal with there, just that I now know what it is. No doubt it slows me down a bit, but this has never really bothered me, as at the best of times I was no speed tramper, and I find a slow steady pace gets me there almost as fast anyway. Besides, what's the hurry?
For the past six years I have done an annual summer tramp of a more substantial duration, and having RTC member John Nash here last weekend - for Tara's birthday celebration, we began planning the 7th Annual RTC Summer Tour.

The first was 2001 when Rick and Steve came over from the states and we did a 5 night trip into the Ruahines, highlighted in an earlier post. Since then every summer has brought an extended Ruahine visit, one with Nigel and John, and the rest with John. We have it down pretty well by now, and the biggest decision to make is what route or destination to choose.

Last year we spent 5 days in the Makaroro valley and Parks Peak ridge. We planned to cross the main range to Ruahine Corner, but wicked gale force winds turned us back to Upper Makaroro hut. Which was no great hardship, it is a very cool spot to sit out gales. And our emerging philosophy is to enjoy an area fully, rather than just push through to another place. I suspect with my hip, this philosophy will be not only a wise one, but also a necessary one.

Above is photo of me standing on the open tops of the main range just above Totara spur. It looks like a beautiful day, and it was, except for the wind! I am leaning into the wind trying to stay upright. Hence our decision to return to Upper Makaroro rather than battle such winds for three hours or so. We saw no clouds for three days, and not until our last evening did the more customary Ruahine cloud and mist roll in. Just above is John tending the wood stove in Upper Makaroro hut. During the day we were sunning and swimming in the river, but when the sun moves beyond the narrow valley it cools down very quickly, even in summer. A very cosy hut. I have stayed here in winter when the sun goes past by three in the afternoon, but with plenty of firewood about and my trusty saw staying warm is not a problem.

I am going to head out this coming week for a couple of nights on my own. Looking at these photos again makes me think a return here would be a pleasant destination. I will give the matter due thought.








Summer Tour 2007's final days brought back more normal Ruahine weather. Particularly in the Parks Peak area, where in my 8 visits there the norm has been far more the misty grey shroud than clear blue skies. I will take it either way. At times I have seen zero visibility from the hut door. I love the mist and the silent blanket it invokes on the environment. On this day John and I stood silently in the forest and swayed along with the beech branches as they creaked and groaned with the westerly wind buffeting over us. I walked up from Upper Makaroro to Parks Peak on my own early in the afternoon while John remained to enjoy the ambiance of the river. It is also a way for us both to experience a bit of solitude and I am sure will be an approach we will again use. I wandered down towards the track turn off about the time in the late afternoon I expected John to arrive, camera in hand. I arrived to find him sweating and puffing, resting a bit so as to appear non plussed by his efforts when he got to the hut. Yeah right! We had a good laugh. It is a very steep climb out of the valley to the ridge top, leveling out in the middle section for a wonderful stretch of big beeches, then climbs again hard to the ridge. It is always good to see those green and yellow signs.


How pleasant it is to wander about in the mountain environment when the days walk is done. The gear is scattered about the hut, dinner waiting to be prepared, fire wood chopped and sawn, and nothing to do but be part of the moment.

Above John scopes the main range with map and compass and I am just enjoying the view as we watched the low cloud settle and drift about across the Makaroro valley.

The anticipation of another trip grips my soul. Just thinking of moments like above cause me to get up and gaze out towards my garage where my gear lies in wait. I will get maps out shortly to put together some ideas for a route. It has been too long.






My last journey to the Ruahines was this past August. I ended up having to hunker down at Top Maropea for an extra night after a blizzard rolled in while returning from Maropea Forks. Even the next day the wind was ferocious, and the above photos I took in protection from the wind in a gut on the route up the spur towards Top Maropea. I have done this route 23 times now and know it pretty well. I have been knocked over by gales along it, so even though it is relatively short it is not to be taken lightly. Cloud would never bother me on this route, but the wind has prevented me crossing it many times. I love this place, this is the first Ruahine spot I stayed over night, Top Maropea, and it will always hold a significant meaning to me. Returning there this coming week is a distinct possibility as well, for once in there I am home. And the amazing Maropea Forks lies not too far away! Stay tuned.