Waiata o te tawhairauriki ( Song of the Beech)

17 October 2010

Robb - solo

Parks Peak hut

Ruahine

The wind howls over the hut like a thousand freight trains that never slow down, shaking and rattling the hut at its moorings. So much so I cannot even hear the rain bouncing on the tin roof. No matter, inside the hut I have the fire going just quietly, I have a cup of tea in hand, I am dry, warm, and well. Originally I was headed for another part of the mountains, but then saw the weather forecast calling for gale force winds and rain, and that is not even in the mountains! So I instead, on the basis of my now eleven trips up and along that long steep arduous, but oh so beautiful ridge, knew I would be relatively protected from the elements by the tough and gnarly tawhairauriki (mountain beech) whom would ward off the most intense of the wind, as they do all their lives. It was a decision based upon experience and knowledge of these mountains. I feel good about that. It meant a longer, tougher walk with a very heavy 4-5 day pack, and one I felt a bit wary of with my new hip to be honest. It is a long ridge, a long day in the saddle. In the more exposed places today I could feel the ground rolling underneath me as the beech battled with the wind, I heard trees falling over in the forest. And I did huff and puff up that ridge, stop at times and gather myself for the next steep climb. Almost 6 hours. I am here.

Looking down into Makaroro valley from the ridge

Winding through the tawhairauriki. A wonderful place I am always glad to see. A long climb is past.

A section of Parks Peak ridge, the constant up amongst the up and down nature of the ridge can be seen.

"Sitting here now at Park's Peak hut

I might consider a form of Heaven

I've walked up that steep ridge a few times now

By latest count eleven

I've done it alone

I've done it with mates

I've done it with my son and his friend

The one common factor in all the above

that bloody ridge never seems to end

Though now I am here full of good cheer

Planning my next mountain trip

I may have walked slow

I may huff and puff

but it ain't from no pain in my hip"

The mountain meadow outside Parks Peak hut. A plethora of alpine plants, lichens, moss, tupare, and tawhairauriki.

The wind still howls over, but the rain stopped and the sun came out, allowing me to get outside and roam this lovely high mountain meadow a wee bit. At the other end of the meadow lies the site of the old Parks Peak hut, an old 4 bunk affair, small, cold, with a cranky wood stove and dubious wood supply. But how I loved that hut, was always glad to see it's orange roof appear, knowing the walk was done and the billy would soon be boiling. I gaze across to where it was through the rain streaked window of this new comparatively luxurious hut at the other end of the meadow. I loved that old hut, yet I have now created memories here in this one as well. I am falling in love again at the other end of the high mountain meadow.

Looking down into the Makaroro valley and the main Ruahine range up above. My destination lies down at the bottom of the valley on the Makaroro river.

Upper Makaroro hut

I was up long before sunrise and headed out just as it got light enough to see. I wanted to be in the forest early as it came to life for the day. I could barely stand upright in the gale outside the hut and was glad to retreat into the forest and starting heading down to the valley. The light of the new dawn cast an ethereal pallor upon the forest, and as I headed further down into the big trees I began to hear the tawhairanui moaning as they swayed and sighed in the wind. The forest had a raw wild ancient feel to it. Storms always heighten the character of the mountains. I walked very slowly, and just let myself go into the energy swirling about. Even walking very deliberately it seemed like I arrived here in mere moments. I guess I did.

It is still windy down here by the river and it is very cold, the sun comes out, then goes away, and the rain chases me back to the hut. I am content to just roam the river flats, and hope a whio will grace me with it's presence and say Kia ora! I can just watch the sunlight play upon the clear cold water, and slake my thirst from her sweet nectar. And at the hut I have my book awaiting, Naked in Eden, written by my friend Robin. A story of her move to the Australian rain forest and becoming Connected to the Earth, Becoming Wild. It is a brave and moving story as she unfolds into her real being. I feel connected to her as I roam amongst this wild place quietly and reflect upon her words. An amazing place to interact with the written word.

Climbing down the final spur to Upper Makaroro hut. I love the horoeka (lancewood) in front of the photo. It has been there since I first made it down here years ago, and continues to grow and cling to life on the eroding cliff face from which it has grown. Always good to see and hear the muttering river after the climb down, see the hut, and greet an old friend. Almost there.

The other direction, a bit lower. How cool to see the colours of the river emerge. Though this is no place to take ones eye of the ball. Ruahine drops to rivers are invariably steep, often becoming near vertical as the final 100 metres or so approach.

The forest sidling along side the tawhairauriki grove after a severe climb out of the valley. A sublime part of the forest.

Evening - Upper Makaroro

The rain still splatters on the tin roof, the wood fire quietly taking the edge off the damp cold. The sun, even in summer, does not take long to leave this narrow part of the valley behind. It adds to the remoteness.

I sat down by the river today when ever I could get out amongst the sun. I sat in front of the emerald pool where the river has bunched up beneath the cliffs, before releasing into a calm flat run where I can gaze through the clear water as if it is not even there and see the colour of each stone, each pebble, then she steadies herself for the long drop ahead where it gathers strength and is doing Her work gouging out the valley even deeper. Then she winds around a corner with the graceful presence of a ballerina, leaving me stunned and wondering what is around that wonderful bend. Mountain rivers will do that to you. I can content myself today knowing that I have been around that lovely bend many times now.

It is pretty cool to return to these wild rugged mountains and know I have history here, that I have climbed up and down both sides of this valley, up and down the river, seen the whio fly by this very spot. My heart bursts! Every moment here is new.

19/10/10 Parks Peak

I crossed the river, her song loud, clear and soothing, and then I put my boots on and just there Listening. Then I began the long, arduous, steep climb back up to here. About an hour in, the track meets a large long grove of old growth tawhairauriki, ambles along side for awhile before steeply heading back up the spur to the ridge. Moments to enjoy. I just waited for the living breathing forest to tap me upon my shoulder and tell me to stop and just be here. The symmetry and energy of the big trees, the glens of fern, and the mosses and lichens lighting the path ahead, connects me with my own Wildness, and though I am far and high above the mountain river, I still hear her in my heart.

My gear is dry on the line above the fire. My boots, upside down and drying out, have earned their keep over these four days in the mountains. I am warm. I have seen no one for days since I left my car and crossed the flooded river. I have roamed these stormy wonderful mountains. I am here!

Aroha,

Robb

Mountain Time

Come take my hand

Sit with me

We shall take refuge

from the din

Just for a few moments

we shall live

by the sound

of the river

and let the colours of her moods

be the only measure

of mountain time

Festival of Trees

To the Festival of Trees:

The photo below is a few years old now. I took it after a few days in the mountains alone and standing a bit above a clear large mountain river this tree across it clinging to life came into my view. And in that moment became a brother from where I was at in my own life at that same time..

"Observation on the River"

Your flawed elegance astounds me

Ramrod straight

As if proudly displaying your wounds

Scarred by time

battered by countless storms

Your soul precariously exposed

Eroded by what also sustain and nourishes

Yet possessing a Strength

I cannot fathom

Holding onto each moment

Until you are finally claimed to join

The Dance of the Endless Flow

It is Me

-Robb Kloss, written outside Ngamoko hut in the Ruahine range, Aotearoa ( New Zealand)

Mountain Whispers

11 Sept. 2010

Heritage lodge - Ruahine

Robb and Charlie Kloss

I have spent a fair bit of time here over the last year. A trip with John late in 2009 when we had to retreat from the storm ridden Whanahuias and find another way up the valley, then again in December with Gustav when I could no longer move well prior to having my hip replaced, and again with him last month after having it done and we proceeded up valley again. So to be here this evening with Charlie I feel very much at home, the clouds drifting over the distant Whanahuias, the sound of the river muttering far below us, and the dark green spurs running up to the ridges all familiar, all welcoming. Charlie collects wood and runs about, his energy levels still high and this is a fine place for a young boy to be full of energy.

It was a different sort of journey we did today. Sitting here now writing this I realize I was applying my experience accrued over the last 19 years, and more so somewhat wistfully at the expense of my elder son Taylor. Back in his day of being 7 he was pushed hard on young legs to places in here not so many young legs would have ventured, and because I was focused on getting him to some distant place with a heavy pack upon my shoulders I was not as aware of his needs, as patient with him, nor as observant of my own place here as I should have been. And though I know Taylor has many aspects of those trips still swirling inside of him, standing here now I feel a lump in my throat. The mountains were still growing within me back then.

Charlie in the sun in the lower forest

Climbing up towards the tops

Still climbing!

Charlie thought this would be a cool place to camp. It would be!

Climbing dead fall over track

11 Sept. Continued:

My plan with Charlie is to go a bit more tenderly, let him grow into the mountains a bit more slowly than Taylor and I did. Instead of just putting a pack on his back and pointing up a huge hill, or a mountain river and tell him to just start walking, why not let him experience these places on his own terms right now. We both carried packs into Heritage, 45 minutes or so from the car, then dropped off my big pack and putting some extra gear, food and water into his smaller one, off we went. I was just as excited as Charlie, as in all my years and visits to this area, I had never climbed up the track from Heritage to Tunipo, so it was all new for me as well.

So when Charlie wanted to stop and look at some big tree, or climb up storm fallen trees lying on the spur, stomp around in the mud puddles, or just gaze off into the distance, he did. We were in no hurry, I did not have to really worry about the weather, or what is was like up top trying to get across, or how long it was taking us to climb up, or even worrying about a route I had never been on before. When I sensed he had had enough we would stop and have some lunch and a long rest. Then turn around and go back to the hut.

An unforeseen bonus for me was how quickly I found myself in my mountain frame of mind. Carrying a very light pack I felt light of foot and spirit, the forest washing through me and I could just let myself be free. It was a perfect plan!

Up on the ridge

A seldom seen Ruahine Elf!

Same Swan dry, different boy. Taylor (7) and Nigel on the tops during a stormy day back in 2000.

I never fail to be invigorated by a walk in the forest, the energy seems to shimmer and glow, radiating from the tall trees and the moss and lichens. The feel of the ferns brushing on bare skin like satin as we pass through a grove. I saw Charlie stop ahead and literally pet the first moss covered stump pictured above as if it were a living creature, as it is. To see him get that, and respond to it warmed me through. You could stop at such a spot, and spend hours trying to count the different shades of green, the various types of moss and lichen and simply just appreciate the soft loving blanket they provide the forest.

I felt wonderful as Charlie and I walked back down through the forest, light on my feet, without the numbing pain and limp of the past. That never fails to amaze me, and a reminder to never take any moment here for granted. My thoughts drifted to the friend I lost this past week. Tanuvasa Shane Sitivi you always appreciated my love of the mountains, and we often talked of doing a trip together. We never did. Another lump gathers in my throat. I am sorry I never did that for you brother, I should have. So I walk for you now. May the gentle mountain breeze always be upon you.

Charlie did well. And the other great thing we learned is how far he can go and enjoy himself in one day. It opens up a lot of potential mountain exploration this coming summer. Stay Tuned!

Aroha,

Robb

Whereabouts Unknown

1 August - In the Ruahine

Robb and Gustav

It does not take long to feel the mountain energy inside me. Meandering over the farmland to the Ruahine boundary brings warmth to my soul, and the easy stroll through the wide forest path seems effortless. The musical accompaniment of water and wetness all around, the insistent fast falling stream beside us, and the thumping muttering of the river further below and the thought of the next 3 days amongst this symphony fills me with joy. That sound will soon become part of the background, part of my existence, but I am always aware it is there, and how beautiful it is, and how fortunate I am to even be here. Last week I was up high, alone amongst the snow covered tops, the music of the wind on the tussock and the tupare, beeches and Kaikawaka, so to now to be lower amongst the life giving water released from on high somehow completes the journey.

That I am here with one of my oldest and dearest friends just heightens and brightens the smile upon my face. I am Home.

Getting ready for the light show at sunset



Sunlit beech after a rain shower

Always a bit of work to be done. Gustav resupplying the wood stock.

Back in November of 1991 I visited Gustav out in San Francisco where he was living at the time. We spent an entire day in the John Muir redwood forest, walking deep into the musty coolness and intense energy of the huge red woods. It was a day that moved me deeply, one that for told to me that change was upon me, that Nature was calling strongly. Six months later I met Tara, and 6 months or so after that I moved to New Zealand. I wrote the following poem later that day back at Gustav's Sausalito home. At the time we had known each other for over 10 years and I wanted to convey the beauty of the day and the depth of our friendship. When I came across it a few days ago I realized it is a poem that has grown with us. Gustav's first trip to the Ruahine was in 1998 when we spent 4 days in the Whanahuia's. Like the trip to the red woods moved me, the Ruahine impacted Gustav deeply as well. Not long after he moved to Tasmania where he still lives. To Old Friends!


"Tall statues of Nature's Domain
Their presence dominating yet gentle
The energy palpable
A timeless blanket of protection and strength
We walk in their midst
Silent, and awed
Unhurried and sure
My friend walks ahead
Noble and Thoughtful
And though we walk separate paths
in our lives
In our hearts
Our minds
May our footsteps remain the same."


19 years later, my friend walks ahead in the Ruahine.




Ruahine forest and river.

2 August
Deep in a Ruahine valley by the river

Gustav diligently chops wood, and drags more out of the forest. All is wet and saturated and will test our fire building skills. I tend to our steaks marinating in olive oil, a bit of garlic and black bean sauce, and just before cooking to be encrusted with crushed pistachios and almonds. It is, after all, a special occasion. We are here.

The forest walk sidling above the river, one of my favourites, was an invigorating and renewing experience. A year ago, on the same walk with John, my hip hurt so bad I was almost in tears. Looking back I am not even sure how I did it, and perhaps it was only the energy pulsating in this lush place that flowed into me and allowed me to continue. Today I walked and smiled, looking ahead at troublesome roots and slippery rocks, or steep climbs and descents that would suddenly be behind me. The forest was lit up in vibrant greens and crystalline droplets of water. The glowing mosses and lichens greeting me once again under the forest canopy.

At one stage I thought I would just forget about hopping from log to rock over a particularly muddy section, as I was already wet and muddy anyway. I decided to just walk through it so I did, only to find myself buried in mud up to my waist and struggling to with drawl myself from it's squelching embrace. I smiled at that too.



Winding up through the lush forest.




Sunlight through the canopy on moss, lichens and ferns.



The sunlit path ahead.



In the forest with the sound of the river close by.


2 Aug. late afternoon.

Being in the mountains over these past few weeks has been a revealing process for me. If it has reinforced anything within me it is to appreciate each moment I am able to spend here, and to truly recognize it very well might be my last. Though the Ruahine will always reside deep within my soul, the very real possibility of being unable to travel here hovers around me. And perhaps it should, for it is a constant reminder of the value these mountains have brought to my life, and the importance of nature and wilderness to us all. A fragile relationship at best. I finger the pounamu (greenstone) pendant which hangs around my neck, a beautiful gift given to me on my birthday by my wonderful friends. It's vibrant green and changing colours representing the lush forest, and the shape being the maunga, or mountain. I treasure it and I feel its warmth absorbing the energy around and of my own soul. We are one.









Relaxing



3 August early morning by the river

The river has come down noticeably during the night, returning to the more quiet mood of clear and aqua green when she is not so angry. I sit with a cup of tea and wait for a whio to fly by. I heard one earlier, and Gustav saw one yesterday. As long as they are here. So I have had the mountains rivers and streams over the past three days, the music now deep within me. Last week was the tussock and snow high above. It's music dwells inside as well. Both so beautiful, and so moving, each with it's own special and unique song of Wildness. Go to the mountains and Listen to the Music, get their Glad Tidings. I am here, I am alive! Te hei mauri ora!



The mountain river.



Gustav climbing up another spur.




Above the river. This place and shapes reminds me of my pounamu. The Ruahine.

Aroha,
Robb