Variety of river crossing on our final day Our third night was spent at Macintosh Hut several hundred metres below the tops, safely protected from those gusty southerly winds. Nicely placed on a small grassy flat overlooking a small wetland, surrounded by lush, mature forest, this is justifiably a popular hut, especially for hunters. Equinox is the time of the roar, so instead of the howl of wind we got to enjoy the high-pitched whistle and he-haw of sika deer throughout the night as they wandered around the valley asserting themselves. Sika are a pest, but somehow it all feels a bit more remote and wild listening to the roar. The Tramping: As is so often the case in New Zealand, you step out of the car park and then either cross a river or climb straight up a hill. This time it was a very manageable 500-metre climb to Kuripapango (1250 metres) on a warm cloudless day, with a gentle southerly breeze keeping us comfortably cool. Bliss. Beginning amongst some tall pines, the trail winds its way through thick fern which clung to our boots and soaked our gaiters. This became scattered stands of juvenile wild pine as we reached the summit. Once onto the ridge the track disappeared into the stillness of beech forest, home for a few piwakaka, bellbirds and robin. At the first clearing where we were greeted by the welcoming view of the mighty Ruapehu and the coned tip of Ngauruhoe, both looking a lot closer than I had expected. To the east Hawkes Bay curved round towards the cliffs of Cape Kidnappers, although Cooks Horn maunga hid any sign of the city. The next day made us appreciate the blue skies of the previous day. Setting off into the mist, rugged up in beanies, scarves, gloves, layers of merino and Gore-Tex, we followed the ridgeline to the highest point at Kaiarahi (1507 metres). Instead of spectacular vistas of the region we were buffeted by a cold wind which turned the drizzle into a saturating shower and kept visibility dropping as low as 50 metres. The terrain ahead became a mystery until it materialised out the gloom. The upside was the greens, whites and even purples of the alpine plants stood out under the varnish of water. Clumps of thick beech forest on the leeward side became havens of calm with occasional cries of native birds, relishing the rain. Despite the cold and damp, spirits were high amongst the group, and we kept up a good pace and arrived at Macintosh hut a lot earlier than expected. It was a pleasure to enjoy the view from the deck, a cup of hot, sweetened coffee a gingernut, and more banter. It took a bit longer than we expected to make our way back to the carpark on the final day. Halfway along a well-marked path Karen consulted the app on her phone and discovered we were well off the designated path and gaining altitude when we should have been heading down. We backtracked and found the original path had been blocked off with a pile of manuka bush. Thanks to Karen this was a short diversion, and we were only a few minutes late by the time we reached the Tutaekuri River crossing. Incident with the Hunter in the Bush Sometimes conveniences are just not that inconvenient. Such as on the track. Finding myself caught short I dropped my pack, grabbed a roll of the finest triple-ply, and bashed my way 20 or 30 metres into the bush. Stepping behind the largest tree trunk I could find, I ripped some branches off a small tree and began digging. ‘Some-time-later’ I was just about to make my way back to the path when the roar of a stag made me freeze. It was close. Very close. Surely it would have been scared off by the sound of my bush-bashing? I began to scan the bush around me and then saw a flash of bright yellow a short distance away. Realisation dawned on me. I was being hunted! Suddenly the branches of the trees around me looked like a mass of antlers – 8, 10, 12 pointers seemed to surround me. I managed to stammer out a “Hey! Oi! You right mate!” A pause, and then “yeah mate” came back at me through the trees. The relief I had experienced moments earlier paled into insignificance compared to the liberation I felt at that moment. Cam the hunter turned out to be a good keen bloke, Having already bagged a stag earlier that day, he was heading back to the hut to collect his gear before heading out replete with 20kg of fresh venison. Thanks for not shooting me Cam. You added a unique but unwelcome thrill to a memorable trek. A bright yellow cap is on my shopping list. The Kaweka Range There are a lot of people who care about this place. Some invaluable work has been done to protect kiwi and the forest is regenerating after widespread burn-off in mid 1950s. The vistas are unique, the huts are well placed and well maintained. What more can I say. Thanks also to Jetboil, Macpac, Backcountry Cuisine, Keen and Karen’s App. 52//WHERE ACTIONS SPEAK LOUDER THAN WORDS/#233
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