The Tramping Report

A Night on Mt Aicken

It was my fourth year tramping before I climbed Mt Aicken at Arthurs Pass. I hadn't climbed it before then because I couldn't see anything special about it to interest me (of the Arthurs Pass peaks only Mt O'Malley seemed to have less going for it).

To make it special, I climbed it on the shortest day of the winter in 1975. It did make it special, and it now stands out more clearly to me than my first time on any of the other easy Arthurs Pass summits.

I also discovered Mt Aicken really was a worthwhile place to go to.

In mid winter 1995 I suggested to Simon Hassall we go up and sleep out in the open, right on the summit. That fitted his style and he couldn't say no. Sitting up in our sleeping bags on the summit we could see the lights of the Bealey. They were watching "the game". We were living real life.

Honora and I talked about how we were going to best use the guaranteed anticyclone after weeks of dodgy weather. I wanted to sleep out under the stars, Honora had never been up Mt Aicken, It was mid winter...

Lake Pearson on the road to Arthurs Pass. Always picturesque, often stunning.

The advantage of an afternoon ascent for a night out was that we could drive to Arthurs Pass during the daytime and see the countryside at its best. There were high snow banks alongside the road over Porters Pass and many family groups were out tobogganing.

At Arthurs Pass we stopped in at the Lassche's cafe for lunch before our climb.

The snow was deep and frozen around the village. At this time of year the frost lasts all day where the sun doesn't reach in the deep valley. The footbridge and the first part of the 'Great Walk' style track to the Punchbowl Falls were slippery with ice.

We turned uphill on the Mt Aicken track. For a while we were following the footprints of others in the snow. But eventually they had turned back. The snow was knee deep on the ground and hung heavily on branches.

The snow had fallen onto bare rocks or frozen old snow. This made the footing slippery underneath and we took our time.

Honora selecting her mattress of snow on Mt Aicken

Above the bushline we came to a shoulder on the spur that had enough of a flat area for us to camp on. The sun had already gone down behind Mt Rolleston.

We used snow shovels to create a level platform to sleep on and a wall to give some shelter from the light breeze.

We cooked tea sitting up in our sleeping bags, and warm mugs of soup did double duty warming our fingers too.

Soon we were snuggled down and and looking at the sky crowded with bright stars. It wasn't long before I saw a meteorite streak across. Then another, and another, from every part of the sky. I saw the Southern Cross and Pointers, so I measured 4 1/2 times and down from the long axis, just to make sure the South Pole was in its proper place. One bright star to the south twinkled red and blue like a galactic police car. The Milky Way turned as I watched...

In the morning the peaks across the valley brightened with a pink tint. Then the first sun touched Rolleston and rapidly spread downwards.

Dressing for the day after breakfast in bed on Mt Aicken

We lay there watching the sun slowly bringing life back to the world. Only when the day was fully unfolded did we start into our leisurely breakfast.

The sun came over the ridge behind us and brought us warmth, but it was also a reminder we had work to do and got us packing.

The snow on the slopes above our camp was still deep and soft.  It was warm work climbing.

I only went as far as the first bump on the main ridgeline, but Honora went on to claim the summit of Mt Aicken.

Far below Mt Aicken is the broad valley of the Waimakariri.

A young man from Greymouth was up for the day. He was looking all around, asking questions and talking about his plans for future climbs. Everywhere I looked I already had memories of being there. The mysteries slip away one by one.  It's a sad thing to lose the excitement of the unknown.

I started down and eventually Honora caught up, returning from her summit. The valley below darkened again. The frost was intense when we emerged at the riverside.

After changing, we stopped in at Oscars Haus (the "wobbly kea") for a delicious roast dinner. A group from the tramping club had called in there to settle up their costs after a session on ice axe practice at Temple Basin. There were some good friends among them but when they'd gone it was good to quietly finish off our great weekend together in the snow.

Broken Hill

A walk over Broken Hill is straight-forward open country tramping with the pluses of easy access, moderate height gain and great views. However it has a couple of optional extras that make it into a superlative day trip that should satisfy the most discerning keen tramper.

Drive west out of Christchurch on SH73 over Porters Pass, and park just before the turnoff to Craigieburn ski field.

Post-glacial landscapes toned in shades of blue and gold

Walk up easy slopes with regenerating native shrublands. Then cross an undulating plateau before tackling the 300m grind to the ridge and Trig G.

Be prepared to be gob-smacked by the view out over lakes Pearson and Grasmere to the north. They're worth the walk by themselves.

The ridge travels on around in a great flat arc to the summit of Broken Hill.

Bryce Williamson was the leader of this Christchurch Tramping Club trip. He suggested nestling down in the big tussocks, out of the breeze, to have our lunch.

We were a friendly chatty group of eight.

Bryce, Joanne, Honora, Adrian, Stephen, Caroline & Bruce

The whole team decided to take the extra 1.5km walk along the ridge to check the view from the nameless 1578m summit. Bryce had reccomended it and he was absolutely right.

It's true if you've climbed Broken Hill but haven't gone on to 1578, you've missed half the benefit.

The views from 1578 are a genuine 360 degree panorama. You can even plainly see the Broken River Hut way below, and the historic old coal mining relic area down in the Broken River gorge.

After a long spell spent fully taking in the views all round we returned back along the ridge to Broken Hill. Bryce talked about options for a more interesting return journey. 

We followed the crest of a spur due west from the summit of Broken Hill. At the end it dropped steeply and Bryce explored for the start of a scree that would let us into the valley below.

It was a steep and dusty scree-run down off Broken Hill

The scree was a bit steepish at first, and some of the team were new to the experience so we all started down cautiously.

However once we could see all the way to the stream, most couldn't resist the chance for a good scree run and bounded down in clouds of dust.

The usual course from here is to travel down stream a short distance and climb to a low saddle to rejoin the route of the morning back to the cars. However we decided on another add-on.

We continued on down the picturesque stream. It twisted and turned as it ran through a deep cut gorgy valley clothed in shading beech forest.

The forest finally ended and as we emerged we had our first casualty. Bryce had paused to check everyone was together, and unfortunately just happened to stop right next to a wasp nest. The first he knew was when a squadron of wasps launched a simultaneous attack. The restrained gentlemanly cry of alarm he uttered was most commendable, considering he received 8-10 stings before getting clear.

From here we only had a pleasant flat 3 km walk along the farm track through attractive regenerating native vegetation. The highlight of the scene was above us on our left, a long hill rimmed with a continuous  craggy cliff of Tertiary limestone. What a spectacular scene that makes.

When we arrived at the road we only had left a short walk of a few hundred metres to the cars.

What a great day.

The Mottram Peaks

I love tramping into the head of the Waimak. Whether it's to climb a peak, cross a pass or just spend some time among its mountains I always get a keen sense of anticipation in the walk up the valley.

This time we started with a tramp in the twilight to AntiCrow hut. As we crossed the gravel flats pairs of NZ dotterels fluttered their wings on the ground to one side of us as their young ran the other way.

AntiCrow hut has been fully refurbished and gave us a very pleasant night's shelter.

Morning cloud drifted aside to uncover Mt Rolleston across the valley.

 

We walked a short distance along the bush track through mountain beech forest and turned up the AntiCrow river. The loose cliffs of the AntiCrow canyon towered high above us. The rocky stream bed alternated between rounded water-smoothed stones and angular blocks of shattered rubble brought down by earthquakes. We travelled easily, steadily gaining height under a warming sun.

In the head of the valley we stopped for an early lunch before leaving the ready water supply of the splashing stream. A young couple of trampers came down the route from Sphinx Saddle and paused for a brief chat. They'd just crossed over the saddle from a camp in the Avoca river. They went on their way and we on ours.

We left the stream and walked up a dry gully with masses of tall snow tussocks to either side. The gully turned a corner and we climbed slopes of short green grasses.

Pretty Eyebrights and other flowers covered the ground everywhere we looked.

Above us a very large scree stretched away to the ridgeline. We toiled up it, avoiding the looser stones where we could. The upper slopes shimmered under the high sun.

Frequent pauses to take in the changing view gave gratifying evidence of height gained as features dropped below. A key moment was being able to see over Sphinx Saddle into the Avoca river.

The 500 metre scree climb took only an hour and a half. We topped out at 1700 metres in a col between two of our peaks. A gentle breeze cooled

A hardy anisotome, the Bristly Carrot, grew right on the rocky ridge, flourishing in the harsh conditions.

We sidled to the west and climbed the lower Mottram Pk. Views of the upper Waimak valley and the main divide peaks were fantastic.

It's always great to see familiar country from a new angle. Burly Mt Greenlaw hulked above Gizeh Col. The snowy summit of Mt Murchison topped everything. The full length of the Mt Harper ridge stretched out directly across Greenlaw Creek. Behind this Mt Davie raised its head and shoulders, the thin line of its summit tiara of choss clearly visible. The upper Waimak valley curled around under the mean cliffs of Carrington Pk. Mt Rolleston was partly obscured by the spikey Jellicoe Ridge.

We dropped back down to the col and climbed to the higher of the Mottram Peaks at 1789 metres.

This now gave us an unimpeded view to the east, right down the Waimak valley to Mt Binser as well as a complete survey right around 360 degrees.

For our descent we explored down a gully directly to the Waimak valley. Our route took us down scree, through shrubland and into the beech forest in a very quick descent. We emerged on the valley floor a short distance from Greenlaw Creek.

That only left an easy walk out to Klondyke Corner, with a short diversion back to the AntiCrow hut to collect our overnight gear.

What a great day, with a bonus night away too.

Mid Hill & Jordan Saddle

An hour's tramp from the Cora Lyn car park and we broke out of the pine forest.

The fantastic scene sparkled in dazzling sunshine. I took photos more to remind myself I'd been there. A camera couldn't really capture the scene we saw and felt.

Gareth, Cyril, Honora and I had driven up to Arthurs Pass village the night before and stayed at the Christchurch Tramping Club house. We needed an early start for the long day it would take traversing the Mid Hill ridge from Lagoon Saddle to Amphitheatre Creek in the Avoca River.

The track around the flank of Mt Bruce to Lagoon Saddle is very wet and muddy.

For the enjoyment of the groups that are tramping the ever more popular Cass - Lagoon track, it really does need boardwalking for the full 2km+ distance.

The waters resting in the gentle fold of Lagoon Saddle are one of the scenic gems of the Arthurs Pass area.

Beyond them our restful walk came to an end. The ground rose, gradually at first but increasingly steep in a 600 metre climb to the end of the Mid Hill ridge. I admit 600 metres is not much of a climb in itself for a fit group, but we'd already gained the same height in the walk up from Cora Lyn.

The final climb to the crest of the ridge needed hands as well as feet. However our worthy summit was nameless so Gareth dubbed it End Hill.

We had magnificent views from here right round 270 degrees. The look of the ridge onward wasn't so inspiring though.

The ridge along to Mid Hill looked jagged and cut by numerous notches. It would be slow travel.

Honora led from the front and probed for a way through. In the end we decided to save time and bypassed the section by traversing under it on snow slopes on the south side.

We summitted directly onto the real Mid Hill 1831m and exchanged congratulations.

From here the ridge stretched away for 2 km rising and falling only gradually around the 1800 m contour. It was easy travel the whole way over shattered boulders .

The magnificent views were a continuous distraction.

At the end of the Mid Hill ridge a spur ran down to a saddle at the head of Amphitheatre Creek. We discovered we still had boundless energy and ran down it too.

We slowed to pass close by a NZ Falcon sitting on a rock studying us unperturbed.

Fine scree led us down into the head of Amphitheatre Creek. The gully here is a giant earthquake rupture in the side of the mountain. Vast scree slopes shimmered in the sun high above us. Below late afternoon shadows spread a hazy gloom.

Muddy water ran through the small stones in the gully and fine gravel rained continuously from above. Afternoon convection currents swirled dusty wind about us.

We hurried on. The team were raising dust to get down to the valley.

Amphitheatre Creek spilled into the Avoca. We paced down river to the Basin Creek hut as dusk settled the day to rest.

Rain spots blew over the range as we left in the morning. It was good to be having an easy day of it.

We walked back up the valley and turned up Galilee Creek to Jordan Saddle. The sun shone out again as we descended the pleasant staircase of Jordan Stream.

John Hayward Hut and back

I love the walk up the Kowai to John Hayward hut, nestled on its terrace at the foot of Mt Torlesse.

On 19 Oct 1991 I'd biked out from town and walked up to visit the hut. I was just into cycling then but that walk rekindled my love for tramping

Today we only had Sunday morning to spare as we wanted to be back in town to inspect an 'open home' at 2.oo pm. Tagging along for part of Erik's trip seemed much more friendly that just going off somewhere by ourselves.

Our arrival made Erik's team up to twelve. Erik, Jolanda, Joy and Alastair I'd tramped with before, but Helen, Colleen, Tim, Andrew, Brent and Ken were new tramping buddies for me.

We drove out through Springfield and parked at the Lone Pine carpark at the bottom of Porters Pass.

The sun was blazing strongly in a warm and windless day as we set off up the Kowai.

Ahead of us, the looming shingle pile of Torlesse shimmered hazy blue at the head of the valley. Only a thin line of winter snow remained on the lee edge of its summit ridge.

An initial walk across grassy flats with scattered patches of matagouri scrub brought us to the stony Kowai river bed. I usually prefer to walk on the higher terrace track but it made more sense on such a warm day to cool the feet criss-crossing in the sparkling stream.

It only took an hour and a bit to get to the hut. We sprawled there on the grass for a chatty snack.

That was as far as Honora and I were going. Erik planned taking the team up onto the Bob's Knob ridge. We left them to it and turned for home.

On the way out we met a young Danish man walking in to climb Torlesse.

It was a shame to have return to town early when it was such a perfect day. However Honora and I had made a decision that promised other exiting possibilities for us, and the mountains would still be here next weekend.

Ranger, Waterfall Biv & Mt Row

Honora & I had a few days off for a five day tramp into the east of the Poulter River (Dampier L33). The weather forecast was perfect.

We started with a walk up the Andrews valley. I love the Andrews so it was no hardship even with a 30 kg pack.

The first side stream at the bottom of Hallelujah Flat was bathed in sunlight so that made an ideal lunch spot for us.

Onward. While walking over Casey Saddle a stoat in its white winter coat ran along the boardwalks ahead of me, the black tip of its tail flicking in the air. I'm reading Kerry-Jayne Wilson's Flight of the Huia at the moment and that's increasing my understanding of the relationship of the introduced predators with the native fauna.

Down at Casey Hut we discovered it was being used as a base for two DoC workers, Julie Walsh and Carrie Lakin, to check and maintain the stoat traps in the Poulter. They arrived back on dusk along with three others who were repairing the fence across the river to keep cattle out of the valley.

Somebody had ranted in the hut book about DoC workers going into the Poulter on quad bikes. I'm not sure if he (?) expected them to walk in carrying the 60 dozen eggs and wooden stoat traps in their packs. I was just happy they were dealing to the stoats.

The evening was fairly quiet for Honora and me as the whole DoC group were engaged in internal DoC chit-chat until lights out. It's odd thinking of the outdoors as being just a workaday world. Not for me.

In the morning we took the now familiar road up the Fenwick Stream spur to Ranger Biv. On the way up we took some time out to finish clarifying the route through one big gap we'd left from last time.

At the high point we'd got to last time I thought we might be only a hundred metres travel from the ridge the biv is on. However it was more like 300 m. It was slow travel too as a lot of it was tightly crowded beech pole forest, and we were carrying big packs with a lot of hardware attached. But never mind we got there soon enough.

It was fantastic being at Ranger Biv again, and it was even more fantastic seeing how many visited Ranger last year.

Eight parties got up there in 2004, and that's the biggest number of visitors in 20 years.

Read what Nigel Jordan said about the condition of Ranger.

It is true that Ranger's in the best condition of any biv in the Arthurs Pass region. DoC's rating of it as  being derelict is just nonsense. I hope I'm not being foolishly generous in believing that's just an honest clerical error.

Anyway, click the thumbnails and see for yourself how sound,neat and tidy it is.

We settled in for the night, with a gentle fire in the rustic hearth to keep the frost away.

The only sound during the night was a male kiwi whistling nearby.

In the morning we spent a couple of hours tidying around the biv and restocking the firewood.

But when the sun reached us we knew it was time we should be moving on.

We climbed easy slopes through inanga up the broad spur behind the biv. The whole of the Poulter valley opened in panorama behind us. At the crest of the Poulter Range we turned north. The ridge stretched away, slowly descending toward the head of Row Stream. A cool westerly drifted across the ridge but the sun was bright and warm in a perfectly clear sky.

I wouldn't have been anywhere else, but I wasn't enjoying it with my full vigour. I'd come down with a sniveling virus in the evening at Casey that had become a full headcold the following day. I woke at Ranger with a raging headache and lassitude. I wasn't perfoming well but I was still making sure I took in everything around me. Discomfort doesn't stay with our memories. That's probably why we keep going exploring.

Mt White

The CTC swarms up Mt White

We went along to join up with a CTC party on a day trip to Mt White (Puketeraki L34 256 978). The trip was graded Moderate, but most of the eighteen that turned up looked more toward the Hard end of the spectrum. However there were a couple of newcomers too.

The whole team were: Steve Bruerton, John Henzell, Joy Bryant, Adrian Sullivan, Lynnette Hartley, Jeff Hall, Alan Ross, Jenny Harlow, Ian Dunn, Bernard Parawa, Todd Ellis, Clive Marsh, Peter Langland, Paul Beaman, David Ellison-Smith, Andrew Tromans, Honora and me.

Honora and I had packed for the whole weekend, rather than just for the day trip. Driving 160 km each way for only a day seems such a waste. We were going to carry on and do our own mission when the others headed home to their couches.

At Mt White station we got a friendly welcome. This was especially appreciated as there was supposed to be some sort of Federated Farmers' political protest involving locked gates this weekend. Federated Farmers had told property owners to lock their gates to 'townies' and hang an orange ribbon on them. Apparently this was to put pressure on the government to pay them to let the public continue crossing their farms to get to rivers etc the way they have for generations. However it can't have been much of a success as none of us saw any orange ribbons on the long drive to Mt White.

So off we went up the hill. Quite a serious pace was set right from the bottom too. The field was soon well spread with about 300 m from front-runner to tail-ender. Tramping with the CTC is definitely more for sport than recreation. I wondered if anyone had a chance to notice the changes in the varieties of vegetation they were rushing through.

The first pause was 900 m higher at a flattening on the ridge at 1529 m. This was designated the lunch stop though it wasn't quite into the afternoon yet.

However it became a very brief lunch. After 15 minutes some complained they were getting cold and wanted to go on. I hadn't noticed anyone other than Honora and me layer up when we stopped. We prefer to make our lunch stops, and all our time in the hills, enjoyable. I think we were the only ones with hot water with us too.

But anyway, everyone rushed on again after only 20 minutes. So we gulped down half our lunch and followed.

From here to the top it started to seem a bit more like a mountain than sheep country. The slope was mostly snow covered too. I was still wearing my sandals but the snow was soft enough for me to leave my boots in my pack.

On the summit the view really opened up. Joy Bryant's smile was pretty wide too. Some might have just gone along for the workout, but Joy really looked like she was enjoying being there.

Honora and I had a great time too noting all the summits we'd been on right round 360 degrees. Even Turnbull way to the north stood out clearly. I realised I'd actually walked the entire visible sky-line for 270 degrees around us.

Honora gave a few people some snow skills refresher coaching on the snow slope just off the summit.

Adrian Sullivan is an old hand in the snow and could be coaching people in the 'self-arrest' technique himself, but he didn't miss the chance to sharpen his own reflexes.

Having got up to the summit so quickly it seems a few were keen to extend the journey into a round trip. They moved off heading further along the summit ridge. It was a while before all the laggards noticed so they had to go hard to catch up.

Along the ridge Honora and I had a good chance to look down into Boundary Stream. We'd tramped through there a couple of times in the early nineties.

The ridge ran nor'nor'east for two km to point 1604. From there a spur dropped off to the east. We followed this down, 900m over two km to Mt White station's Esk Valley road.

It was a take-no-prisoners descent. Everyone arrived at the road the same - red-faced and overheated.

The only thing left was the seven km march out along the muddy 4x4 road. After rounding the end of White Spur the end was in sight, with the light of day fading by the minute above the darkening silhouette of Mt Binser.

Crepuscular gloom turned to darkness as we packed into the cars and headed off. At the Mt White turn-off, all the cars except us turned left heading back to the city. Honora and I turned right toward Arthurs Pass. It usually seems sad heading home after a trip. But this time we could leave that for another day and head straight off on another one.

Over Lyndon Saddle

We settled for just a Sunday day trip this weekend. In the morning Honora checked John O'Malley's Castle Hill Village webcam. It showed a classic snowy Christmas card scene. The sun was glinting on the new snow and it was fine in Christchurch too.

Sixteen assembled at the Christchurch Tramping Club meeting place. That's quite a number for the CTC these days.

However once we were out of town we could see that the fine weather promise wasn't going to deliver. The Torlesse range was hidden under dark billowing clouds. At the Broken River shelter deep slushy snow covered everything and low cloud made for a bleaker scene than we'd seen on the webcam at dawn.

The shelter was occupied by a disgruntled group of overseas rock-climbers huddling around the fire.

But we were here for a tramp and so off we went. Or rather off they went. I was waiting in the public shelter, packed and ready to go, when the others took off. When I noticed they'd gone I took off in pursuit. I caught up with Honora, Craig, Emma and leader Pam. The other eleven were fast disappearing ahead.

Honora and Craig slowed and dropped off the back. I stayed with Emma and Pam for a while as they chased the main bunch. But I started overheating so stopped to remove a thermal layer. I'd put on an extra layer of clothes than I usually do as I'd expected this Easy graded trip would go at a slower pace.

After adjusting my clothing I was in a quandary. I know the CTC's motto is 'Keep Up or Die', so I was fairly reluctant to be left behind. But at the same time I had my Mr Responsibility tut-tutting in my ear that I should be helping leader Pam keep the group together. Against that was my real preference to just drop back and wander along with Honora in our usual style of stopping whenever we wanted to look at anything that interested us.

I just split the difference and ended up plodding up the track by myself.

In due course the whole group reunited on Lyndon Saddle. However those who'd arrived first were keen to get moving as they'd been standing around getting cold while they waited.

It's classic CTC that people don't dress warmer to fit in with the pace of slower ones.

The walk to the Craigieburn huts was much the same, with the party widely split into three or four separate groups. We all bunched up again for lunch, squeezing under stairways and balconies on one of the lodges.

However it was a quick lunch for the latecomers as the front-runners were getting cold again and headed off.

We all walked down the ski-field access road with the snowfall getting heavier. Most of the group walked out to the main road and back around to the Broken River access road. A few walked back to the shelter over Lyndon saddle.

Pam had thought ahead and brought spare gloves as backup for anyone who needed them, and they were. And she worked hard too at tryng to keep the group in contact in the cold conditions.

However leading CTC trips is a bit like herding cats. The club's had a reputation for not looking after each other for at least 40 years. It would be nice to think one day they'll realise how quickly things can turn to serious custard when someone becomes unwell or has an accident.

The day finished up with snacks at the Kowai tearooms at Springfield, and Pam was still smiling. Thanks Pam.

A look at Echo Col

Honora and I still haven't crossed Echo Col. The last record of anyone going over it was John Easton and Lynette Hartley in 1991. Then energetic explorer Xabi Alcorta climbed to the top from the Avoca side 5 or 6 years ago, but didn't go over.

We took the pleasant walk in over Jordan Saddle to the Avoca hut on Saturday to have a serious look at it on the way out on Sunday.

It was good to be back at the Avoca hut. It's one of my favourite places in the hills. Honora spent an hour in the early evening facinated by the antics of a tiny field mouse.

In the morning we crossed the river and started up the gully toward the col. Part way up you need to leave the gully and cross a rib to gain access to the basins below the col. I explored up the gully looking for a route and returned to Honora.

Honora had been looking at a steepish scree and tussock slope and thought it might go. She started up it and I went off to get my pack. I noticed she was moving very slowly, carefully twisting tussock strands in her hands. That's not normal for Honora so I had my doubts about it. I climbed a separate line without my pack to check it out. It was rather nasty but I made it to the rib.

Honora reached a point where she couldn't go up or down. A 30 metre traverse separated us, across steep gravel covered slabs. I suggested she drop her pack. She agreed and quickly launched it into space. It bounced and bounded out of sight way below. The traverse was then much easier and we soon found a better way back down to the gully. Honora's pack hadn't suffered any damage from the fall.

We'd taken a bit of time for our little adventure so decided we'd go back out over Jordan and cross Echo another time. However I think we've sorted the route now. A large kaitiaki stone marks the start of the best line onto the rib.

We headed back down and sat by the river in contemplation for a while.

The walk out over Jordan Saddle was, again, a nice amble. Coming in we'd enjoyed the profusion of gentians blooming on the slopes leading to the saddle. I'm not much of a photographer as I'd just looked and then walked on. But this time I stopped.

Mt Torlesse

Honora & I decided to tag along on a Christchurch TC trip to Mt Torlesse (Puketeraki L434 143 717). I'd met Scott once before but Cyril, Jennifer and Wayne were new to me.

We turned off SH73 below Porters Pass, at the 'big pine', and drove as far as the 3rd farm gate.

It was a hot walk up the Kowai River to the John Hayward Hut. The shade of the hut was a welcome cool place for a snack. Across the stream next to the hut we took the prominent spur route up the mountain. A steady westerly wind blew across all the way, making it a bit cooler than in the valley.

It was perfect on the summit for a long lunch.

Scott had originally wanted to traverse from Torlesse around the ridge-top to Red Peak but he couldn't get anybody else interested. So we returned down the scree on the face of the mountain, to the east of the spur we'd come up.

Cyrill also tramps with the Over 40s TC and said that's the standard descent route for that club. The scree is lumpy and has few fine patches that allow a good run. It eventually leads down into a gully which becomes the stream flowing out next to the hut. However part way down the gully is a 10 metre waterfall. We bypassed the waterfall by climbing into beech forest on the true right. I couldn't see any sign that many others go that way, but we got through without any problems.

When we got out to the cars it was near 7.00 pm making it a longish day, and a hot dry one.