South-east of Iron Peg, early Saturday afternoon.

Dates: 6th – 8th August, 2010
Location: Ruahine Forest Park, Mangakukeke Road.
People: Amanda, Richard, Dirk, Megan, Éamonn and me.
Huts visited: Purity Hut (0 nights), Pourangaki Hut (1 night), Kelly Knight Hut (0 nights).
Route: Up past Purity Hut, around Wooden Peg and Iron Peg to spot-height 1632, then down to Pourangaki Hut for Saturday night. Up to spot-height 1614 and Pourangaki and down to Kelly Knight Hut. Then out to the road over Kohunui Station (permission is required for this final section).
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We left Wellington Railway Station at about 5.30pm on Friday night as part of the traditional bustle that is various Wellington-based outdoor recreation clubs packing into transport to go to wherever they’re going, with ourselves making our way to the end of Mangakukeke Road. It’s roughly inland from Mangaweka. We stayed overnight near the start of the entrance to the range, and shortly after 8am on Saturday morning the six of us were ready to leave.

Amanda and Richard nearing
the top of the farm.

Getting to Purity Hut involves an initial walk over farm-land, mostly following markers and painted fence posts, to the bottom of a spur that ends around spot-height 931. (No permission is required for this section, but it is required for the later section when coming out the other side of the farm from the Kelly Knight direction.) What follows is probably the toughest climb of the entire route — the marked route follows the fence-line at first up a small side spur, and then direct up the side of the ridge. It’s very steep, albeit completely stable, and probably on the order of 200 or 250 vertical metres. There’s a nifty view of the entire surrounding farmland from the top, though.

Purity Hut and it’s loo with a view.

A minute after reaching the top of the fence-line, we followed the route off the farm-land and into the trees, soon meeting an old surveyors trig which presumably is spot-height 931. It’s completely covered in forest now, but I suppose it’s not always been so. Carrying on through the trees, the route eventually reaches some wider clearings and we were able to look out around the corner towards the snow-smothered tops along the higher parts of the range. At 10am, we reached Purity Hut.

We stopped for a few minutes for a snack and a look around, and to write in the book. Purity Hut is a nice and shiny, relatively new and well kept 6 bunk hut. Among its useful features is to have a roof (and top bunks) that’s high enough so that you don’t have to lean forwards to avoid hitting your head when sitting on the lower bunks.

(Left) Eamonn and Amanda and the Hikurangi Range. (Right) Dirk coming up from Purity Hut.

Fifteen minutes later, we left and began our walk up towards the main range. At first we continued through the tussock alongside a fairly panoramic snow-covered backdrop on the neighbouring ridge, and eventually our elevation became high enough to meet snow. The route more or less follows a straight line, all the way to Wooden Peg (1672m). On several occasions I thought the wind was picking up, reminiscent of what we’d experienced nearly three years earlier, but it never did. Instead, the looming storm cloud remained high in the sky and, at least for now, relatively dormant but mildly threatening.

Approaching Wooden Peg (1672).

There’s a DoC sign-post on Wooden Peg, marking an available route straight down to Kelly Knight Hut, which is a shorter loop than what we had in mind. Instead we veered around to our left (just north of east) towards Iron Peg (1703m), 20 minutes further along, which itself is a short distance away from the Ruahines’ high point of Mangaweka (1731m). We’d thought we might shoot over to Mangaweka if conditions permitted, but the lingering threat of worsening weather coming in helped us decide to stick to the more direct plan.

Éamonn waits somewhere near Iron Peg.

By now the snow was more hardened and with ice-axes out (just in case), we were kicking steps to the top of Iron Peg, and to get down the south-east face the ice-axes were very helpful… to the point that we might have turned around if we’d not had them, just for this stretch of 100 metres or so. As it was, Éamonn hacked out steps from in front, and the rest of us just followed carefully. Then, for about 20 minutes, we stopped for lunch in a sheltered area at an iced-over tarn just below Iron Peg before continuing along towards spot-height 1632. I still thought the wind might be picking up on a couple of occasions, but it never happened. Instead, it started snowing from soon after our lunch stop, and we had an unhindered walk along the ridges in snow-flake blanketed scenery. Quite nice, really.

If the first unusual trig station on this route was the spot-height 931 trig buried in trees just above the farm this morning, the second unusual trig station falls in a space that’s not even marked on modern maps as a spot-height at all. Last time I visited this ridge-line, I remember trying to shelter near the ground under an anonymous trig station as we decided not to go to Waterfall Hut, but I never figured out where it was. Now, having been there again in more tolerable conditions, I know that it’s about 1 km south-east of Iron Peg, on a hump along the ridge and probably about 1665 metres elevation. Maybe it was simply put here for surveying reasons because it was easier to see from more places far away.

A popular route to Waterfall Hut is down
the scree gut to the left of this saddle.

At about 1.30pm, we crossed through the saddle above Pinnacle Creek, which is the popular way of getting down to Waterfall Hut, and there’s a sign-post up here indicating the route and suggesting 1.5 hours. From slightly further on we could look straight down into the valley to the north-east and clearly see Waterfall Hut, and it’s not far away. I guess shimmying down the river-bed would take some time, though.

Looking back.

I remember from an earlier trip over Sawtooth Ridge that the ridge gets a bit gnarly after spot-height 1632 (from which we were to head down to Pourangaki Hut), but I didn’t think there was anything especially awkward on this side. It turns out there were a couple of slightly tricky bits that required some cautious balancing, but nothing really dangerous, I don’t think. Maybe I just hadn’t registered them the first time around, with the conditions having been so different.

The confluence below Pourangaki Hut.

Anyway, it was about 10 minutes before 2pm that we finally sidled to the top of the track that leaves spot-height 1632 to drop down towards Pourangaki Hut, and stopping for a quick snack after 20 minutes we waved goodbye to the ridge-line, descending into a valley surrounded by mountain ridges on all sides. I like Pourangaki Hut. It’s about half an hour to get to the bush-line, and from there the route drops steeply. On three occasions when I’ve come down here, it’s been very slippery every time. It’s under trees though, so it’s completely manageable. For us, it took a further hour of decent from the top of the bush line to reach the nice camp-site area at the bottom of the spur which marks the 4-way confluence of mountain streams that become the Pourangaki River. There’s a crossing required of one of the smaller streams without much of a catchment, and then a small bridge over the largest creek before a short climb of about 100 vertical metres to Pourangaki Hut. We arrived at around 4pm.

Pourangaki Hut from above.

Pourangaki Hut was refurbished a few years ago, I think very shortly before I first visited in 2007. It seems it’s also not visited much at all, especially in winter. Despite now beign August, there had only been a handful of groups who’d passed through since February… at least groups of the persuasion of writing in hut books, so I guess very few people come down that slippery track. The hut is in an isolated grassed valley, which is a nice place in sunshine.

We settled in, eventually preparing some Chorizo couscous for dinner (thanks Amanda) followed by more experimental custard… apparently the secret with tramping custard is to have a 2 to 1 ratio of milk powder to water, and had an early winter night, during which a front came in and it rained and rained. Éamonn slid out during the night and went outside, not being able to sleep longer than 7 hours in any one stretch, apparently. I didn’t realise this until dawn when I could finally see shadows around me, and finally noticed the space next to me was completely vacant. Drats, I could have spread out more.

Once again, up before 7am we were ready to leave about an hour later. The overnight rain was now holding off, though still coming through in phases from time to time, and it seemed as good-a-time as any to get away. From here it’s often possible to walk straight down the river to Kelly Knight Hut (not really today given the rain), but a more scenic way is to walk straight up-hill to the south-west. It’s about an 800 metre vertical climb to spot-height 1614, and this is what we did.

Megan and Richard.

The slope begins quite slippery, similar to the slope we’d come down on the other side the day before. It took around an hour to reach the tussock, where we met a light but biting breeze, and in the shadow of the top of the ridge we stopped briefly to find helpful things like over-trousers. I guess with this part of the range being more sheltered, there were only loose slabs of snow lying on the top, but it was still fairly cold. We also had more clag, and couldn’t see to the range on the opposite side of the Pourangaki Valley where we’d been yesterday. We made good time at about 400 vertical metres per hour, reaching the top before 10am. Last time I visited here, the sign at the top was on a severe wind-beaten lean. Now it’s simply fallen over completely, and there seems to be little point in trying to correct it.

A poled route carries on around at the top towards Pourangaki (1539), but it’s not especially easy to follow in clag with the poles being quite far apart. Certainly on one occasion, we spent about ten minutes spreading out looking for the next pole, but it never really got bad enough to need to start resorting to navigating.

Getting down to Kelly Knight.

The walk down from Pourangaki is one that’s really nice on a bright sunny day, maybe reminiscent of Dead Man’s Track some distance further south in the range. It’s a nice, grassy and quite open track that’s well exposed to the sky. Therefore I contented myself by telling myself it was a bright sunny day, and that there was really no dreary wind. I tried to convince myself of wonderful views of … well … something in the distance. Any time that I slipped in the soggy mud, I didn’t really slip. Those kinds of things don’t happen on bright, happy sunny days.

We reached Kelly Knight Hut at around midday, in time for lunch, in anticipation of seeing some others from our tramping club. On opening the door, however, the hut was very stuffy (I thought it smelt like a horse), and the book confirmed nobody had passed through for some time. They’d probably just stopped at Purity Hut without coming down, or something like that. We had our lunch and aired the place out, then made our way down to the bridge just below the hut that crosses the Pourangaki River.

Kelly Knight Hut from above.

It seems parts of the Ruahines have a special breed of swing bridge that I’ve not seen elsewhere (although perhaps they exist in other places). It’s a typical 1970s style swing bridge, but without the mesh on the sides which makes it more important that you get your feet in the right place when crossing. I consciously noticed the first of these outside Crow Hut several weeks ago, a little north of here. We saw another one earlier on this trip, crossing the river just below Pourangaki Hut, and then this is the third. I don’t know why I’ve not consciously noticed this kind of bridge before, but I guess I’m not terribly attentive. Maybe they were all put in together, and this design was simply the style at the time.

Megan on the sidling track
towards Kohunui Station.

The bridge below Kelly Knight Hut is awkwardly poised at the point where it’s bolted into the rock, and we had some minor entertaining times climbing up to it, but it’s very crossable. Just another little obstacle in this type of trip, really. From here it’s a cruisy walk out. A nice track sidles above the river, back towards the farm-land, and then there’s a walk of several kilometres over the farm-land, through several electric fences (only one electrocution this time). If you’re thinking about crossing this section of farm-land, note that this section of Kohunui Station, coming out from Kelly Knight Hut, requires permission to cross, and access is likely to be closed during calving season. Contact details for the farmer are available through the Palmerston North DoC Office.

It was a good weekend, as nearly always happens. Some sad news on our drive back was the message that one of the students in the NZ Alpine Club’s AIC had slipped off Pinnacle Ridge at Ruapehu on Saturday. They’d been meeting across the road at platform 9 of the Wellington Railway Station at the same time on Friday night as ourselves, and with the joint interest many people have between tramping and climbing, there’s a cross-membership between the clubs and communities which made things feel closer to home. It’s a reminder that these things can still happen, I guess.

Dates: 5th – 7th October, 2007
Location: Ruahine Forest Park, Purity Road-End.
People: Captain (and gourmet chef) Alistair, Dirk, Paul and meeeee.
Huts visited: Purity Hut (0 nights), Pourangaki Hut (1 night), Kelly Knight Hut (0 nights).
Intended route: Camp at the Purity road-end on Friday night, then walk up past Purity Hut, Wooden Peg and Iron Peg. Turn South-East and carry on to Ohuinga, then head North down Broken Ridge, ending at Waterfall Hut for Saturday night. On Sunday, head up to Mangaweka via Trig Creek, back past Iron Peg and Wooden Peg, Purity Hut, and then out.
Actual route: Similar initially, but due to some weather issues we picked up the track down a spur about half way between Iron Peg and Ohuinga, to Pourangaki Hut. On Sunday, we continued along the track up over Pourangaki, and down to Kelly Knight Hut for lunch, then back to the Purity road-end.
Electric shocks: One.
[Photos]

There was no rain at all as it turned out, but the wind was a huge factor.

We shared the van on Friday night with Spencer’s group, who were doing a medium-rated trip, and spent much of the ride trying to play a game that involved looking for horses, or pictures of horses. (I still don’t understand it, and everyone ignored my attempts to cheat.) There was some talk about either or both groups possibly walking up to Purity Hut on Friday night. Alistair however, who was already familiar with a very steep climb on the route, was adamant that everyone’s effort would be better spent getting a good sleep next to the road, which we eventually agreed to do. The forecast for the weekend had implied that there could be some complications with wind, and we were already experiencing hints of this. Paul and I tied the end of our Huntech fly down quite low to the ground in anticipation of conditions getting worse, but there were no problems overnight.

Most things went well the next morning. Having left his shorts behind, Alistair resolved to tramp in his blue and white striped long johns. He commented on being quite hot for a while, but it didn’t last for long. At 7.20am on Saturday morning, we waved goodbye to the people doing the medium and easy-rated trips, and began to walk. After 20 minutes of shepherding curious moo-cows and a few sheep through a paddock, it became much clearer why Alistair had been against the idea of walking on Friday night. The track up to the edge of the farm took a very steep turn. It wasn’t bad in the context of things and only involved about 25 minutes of steep up-hill walking, but it was definitely nicer climbing it now than it would have been while dreary and tired late on a Friday night. As we reached the top of the climb, on the border between the farm-land and Ruahine Forest Park, we looked down at the view and saw the people of Spencer’s medium-rated group just leaving the road-end. It was a smug feeling

The track leveled off, and the walk through the trees from there was actually quite relaxing. Meanwhile, I was discovering the burning sensation in my throat that resulted from the dish-washing detergent I’d left in my water bottle. It really put me off sipping water for a while. We reached Purity Hut shortly after 9am, under a cloud that allowed about 100 metres of visibility. The cloud didn’t lift at all, but I suppose the large, transparent window in the door of the long drop meant there could have been some very good landscapes to view in that direction if things had been a little more transparent outside. Either that, or the window was simply thanks to some DOC workers with a strange sense of humour. We boiled up a quick brew, and added another layer. It didn’t look as if the conditions were about to get any nicer.

A comment in the hut book from a few days earlier mentioned that it had been snowing, against our expectations. Sure enough, however, the scatterings of snow after Purity Hut became more and more intense. The visibility became less and less to match it. By the time we reached Wooden Peg, snow was common in all directions, and it was becoming difficult to pick out even the immediately nearby features from the background. Continuing to Iron Peg, we began to encounter some harder, icier snow.

By now, it was obvious that the weather was not appropriate for the initial plans of walking over the ridges all day, which realistically was about what we’d expected from the forecasts prior to leaving. We began focusing on how to get to our destination of Waterfall Hut sooner rather than later. With the low visibility, being sure about the exact location of Iron Peg was difficult. In the end there was some guess-work involved as to exactly when we should turn off on a new south-east bearing, but we nevertheless managed to find the ridge heading towards the top of Pinnacle Creek without too much trouble.

This was about the time when my experience of the trip was vastly altered, because things started to get very windy. I first remember noticing the wind at about the time that I was blown off my feet.

It began to become noticeable as we dropped into the first major saddle on the south-eastern side of Iron Peg. For a few minutes it was quite amusing fighting against the wind, but after that I began to appreciate how difficult strong winds can really be . This was the strongest consistent wind I had encountered on a trip so far, and the first time a factor of the natural environment had invoked such a steady stream of four letter words as those that churned through my mind during the several hours we were at higher altitudes. Sometimes the wind would help to blow us up-hill, but I was personally beginning to feel quite discouraged at the amount of energy it was sapping, simply to avoid being blown off the steep side of the ridge. I soon learned that crawling up-hill and sliding down the other side, all the time keeping as low to the ground as possible, were very useful methods of movement.

The wind was blowing consistently and quite relentlessly everywhere on the tops, and it didn’t stop. On several occasions when I lay over the ground for some shelter, it crossed my mind to envy the sleek alpine grasses that occasionally poked up through the snow, mocking me with their lack of need to actually go anywhere. I could have quite happily laid myself down, sheltered under my raincoat and soggy mittens, and stopped for a while. Fortunately for my own sake, logic quickly prevailed every time, and I convinced myself to get up again. It still didn’t stop the frustration of fighting up over the top of every small climb, only to realise that there was yet another saddle behind it in which the wind was likely to be even worse.

There’s a trig somewhere in the middle of that ridge which isn’t marked on my map. I know it was there, because I had a good staring contest with a nearby rock as Alistair pulled out his map and consulted with Dirk and Paul. The forecast of the wind possibly being stronger on Sunday meant that we didn’t really want to go to Waterfall Hut any more. If we did, it would be necessary to return to the tops again to get out. The new plan was to aim for Pourangaki Hut, which would mean surviving the ridges for a little longer in exchange for being able to get out via the sheltered Pourangaki River the following day.

I actually lied earlier when I said that the wind never stopped. For a moment, there was a sudden silence and a brief respite from the roaring gale. As I cautiously detached the edge of my polar fleece beanie from where it had uncomfortably lodged beneath my eyelids, I noticed the drop in wind had occurred at the exact time that Alistair’s boot-lace had come undone. I admired his skill in commanding the weather as he lent over to re-tie it, but felt a certain amount of resentment that he let the throttling winds resume as soon as he was done.

We finally began to descend from the heights, finding a few small patches of sweet, sheltering Leatherwood along the way. With the gradual reduction in altitude, we came across a relatively protected place to stop for lunch at about 1pm, and took the time to sit down for a few minutes.

After skittling over the top of a rather large land-slip, the gradient of the spur became steeper and slipperier. From that point on, I think everyone in our group gracefully contributed to the further erosion of the hillside. The bush became thicker, the wind-chill disappeared, and the air temperature steadily rose above what had, until then, been a staple 2.7 degrees Celsius. In fact, the downstairs climate was entirely disconnected from what we had experienced until that point.

The lower end of that spur has a very nice small camp-site. It was only 2.20pm, but for a few minutes we toyed with the idea of simply going no further and setting up tent flies near the river. In the end, however, we decided to continue over the small swing-bridge to Pourangaki Hut. When we arrived half an hour later, it turned out to be in a completely sheltered clearing. There was no wind except what we could see in the tops of the trees. The Sun, which shone quite warmly, still had a good 30 degrees to move before it would be obscured. It was a nice time to sit outside, take in the surroundings, and dry out some damp clothing.

The book at Pourangaki Hut had not been updated for over a month, and implied we were the first to stay the night for six months, but items left in the hut suggested that it’s probably used more often than that. It was in great condition. The nearby tracks were re-cut in February, and Pourangaki Hut had recently been very well renovated. It now has lining on the inside walls, and is well insulated. (It looks as if there’s not much head-room at either end of the top bunks, though.)

Within a couple of hours, our outdoor slumber was interrupted by noises of more visitors coming down the hill. It turned out to be the first of Spencer’s group, whom we had earlier waved goodbye to at the road-end. They had also changed their original plans of getting to Kelly Knight Hut, and instead decided to come here. Perhaps they’d had a nicer time at higher altitude than we’d had, because at least a couple of them appeared very happy as they hobbled over the sunny clearing.

The coincidence that both groups had diverted to the same place made the rest of the afternoon very enjoyable. For us, as it turned out, it was even fortunate. Spencer’s party had been overtaken early in the day by a large and slightly surly troop of older people, reportedly all wearing shorts that exposed their bare legs to the icy wind. They were also on their way to Waterfall Hut, and their main concern beyond anything else had been about who was going to be there when they arrived. If we had actually reached the place we’d been aiming for, it could have been very crowded.

Dirk had a fire going by late afternoon, keeping us heated to a piping hot 17 degrees, or just over 20 for those on the top bunks. With 8 bunks in total there was plenty of space for 9 people, but Maggie (from Spencer’s group) opted to sleep outside under the veranda. She would have had a great view of the stars later on Saturday night.

Having a trip leader who’s working his way through Gourmet Tramping in New Zealand (the book) is very beneficial. Thanks to Alistair’s organisation, we had a very filling course of Louisiana Jambalaya, followed by fruit cake for dessert. We shared some custard, because six litres of it was just slightly too much to comfortably consume between the four of us. Given the conditions of the weekend, it might have been that the amount of food we carried was all that separated the medium-fit group from the medium group. It was a smug feeling.

With the winds forecast to get even worse on the tops, the plan for Sunday had been to follow the Pourangaki river to Kelly Knight Hut. Any alternative ideas had been merely an afterthought, until we actually woke up. Sunday was a relatively calm, clear day, perfect for climbing to higher altitudes. A couple of people in Spencer’s medium-rated group were still hurting a little from Saturday, and they decided to follow their original back-up plan and walk along the river (a 2-3 hour journey). Dirk was also keen to do some river walking, and joined them for this stage of the trip. Meanwhile, Alistair, Paul and I used the time to follow the track from the hut back up to the tops, and take in some scenery. The three of us left at 8am with an agreement to either meet the others at Kelly Knight Hut, or to exchange messages in the book.

With the Sun now shining, Alistair had discovered that he could simulate his missing tramping shorts by rolling his stripy polypropylene leggings up to his knees. We climbed for about 15 minutes through the trees, and by then were able to stop for a moment and admire the surrounding snow-capped mountain tops over the valley that we had crossed blindly the day before, only just now becoming visible between the gaps in the branches. During this pause, Paul went to take a mouthful of water and was dismayed to discover that he had left his bottle behind. Fortunately there was a spare bottle buried in my pack, and we re-distributed the water that we already had. We continued to climb, taking in the increasingly clear views of the surrounding ranges.

And in the end, we sat in a sheltered gully beside the untitled 1614 metre peak, 800 metres east of Pourangaki. For our efforts we enjoyed a sparkling morning panorama from Sawtooth Ridge through Broken Ridge and Rangioteatua, Mangaweka, Iron Peg, and ending with the clear view of a completely whitened Ruapehu in the far distance. Somewhere, approximately 1000 metres underneath us, six people had for some reason elected to wade through waist-deep liquid snow for 3 hours. Once again, it was a smug feeling.

It was near the top of Pourangaki, on the way down, that Alistair’s emergency phone gained some reception and beeped at him. If anyone had contemplated staying at home to watch a certain rugby game on TV, it was now obvious they had made a superior choice to come out for a great windy weekend. The conversation about the sports news that raged in front of me didn’t last for long. It quickly morphed into a much more interesting anthropological debate about chimps, humans, and genocide.

The others were wringing out their socks by the time we met them at Kelly Knight Hut, fifteen minutes before midday. Paul, was happy to discover that Dirk had rescued the water bottle he’d left behind that morning. The atmosphere around the hut made it a good place to be for lunch. We stopped for another half hour before heading out for the last part of the walk to the road-end, in one large group. Even the farm-land was a treat to walk through on such a calm, sunny day, although we made some accidental minor detours over the farm and Paul sustained an electric shock.

We stopped in Mangaweka for ice creams on the way home. From there we left the Sun behind, and the weather became more dreary. The amount of water coming from rivers out of the western Tararuas implied that a torrential downpour of the weekend had probably missed us completely. I’m not complaining.

Overall it was a good experience. For me personally, it was definitely one of the more memorable trips I’ve been on. In one respect it was disappointing that our original idea had to be down-graded from a scenic walk around the tops all weekend, but it was for all the right reasons. It certainly helped to be with three other people who weren’t just cheerful and good to travel with, but who were also experienced and knew this part of the Ruahines well.