Poads Road end to Waiopehu, Te Matawai, Arete, Carkeek, Nichols, Pukematawai and back — August 2023.
‘Come over the lip Pete, it’s sheltered here’ Andy advised. ‘I’ll just get this extra layer on and I’ll be there’ I replied. Andy Caruthers, my companion for this mission to the heart of the Tararua Ranges, struggled to keep his shivering under control so he could lock ‘find’ mode on his Garmin onto Arete Hut. The horizontal sleet whipped around us, tiny fast-moving missiles caught fleetingly in our head torch beams in the murky blackness.
The tussock-covered tops all around us were coated in micro rime ice, incredibly beautiful had it not been so cold. Right then our only thought was to find the shelter waiting somewhere for us 150 metres below. ‘It’s that way’ Andy confirmed, determinedly setting off downhill. I followed, trying to keep up with the mountain goat my friend surely was in a previous life.
Relief is what I felt when a ‘woop’ from Andy confirmed that he’d reached Arete Hut. While he battled with the ice-sealed door I slipped and slid my way down to join him. Inside we laughed at each other, both coated from head to foot in verglas. ‘Man, I can see now how you could die up here in winter if you lost your way’ I reflected.
So why had we allowed ourselves to become benighted in August, in bad weather, on some of the highest terrain in the Tararua Ranges? Ambition, determination, and perhaps a tad of blissful ignorance about just how unpleasant it would be up in the clag above Te Matawai Hut, as we’d set off earlier at 4.30p.m.
That morning we had a clear plan to follow if we were to realise our goal of reaching Carkeek, the most remote hut in the heart of the Tararua Ranges. MetService had informed us that two days of clear weather were coming next morning, so to ensure we could enjoy them on the tops, we had to reach Arete Hut on our first day. Andy also had a commitment back in Wellington in four days time. Day one started at Poads Road end. We opted to take the longer route up to Te Matawai Hut via 1070 metre Waiopehu Hut, which I hadn’t been to.
At the junction on the Gable End Ridge track, normally forming a part of Te Araroa, a DOC sign indicated that the way ahead was closed due to slips. ‘Hopefully that won’t be a problem on our way out’ Andy remarked as, in intermittent light drizzle, we set off up what proved to be a surprisingly good trail up to Waiopehu Hut. As we neared the hut we met a couple descending. They would be the only people we’d see during the four days.
Munching some lunch, we enjoyed the expansive views out to Levin and on to the main range from Waiopehu Hut, before taking on two quite arduous up-down-ups between us and Te Matawai Hut. Once in the relative warmth of Te Matawai, having been on the go for over seven hours, with deteriorating weather and approaching darkness, my resolve was faltering, but Andy’s mojo still ran at 100 percent. ‘No pain no gain’ I affirmed as we shouldered our packs once again, steeling ourselves for a few more hours of climbing. Nightfall engulfed us on Pukematawai, quickly following a spectacular blood-red sunset at our backs. We eventually reached 1360 metre Arete Hut a little after 7p.m., having ascended 2,400 metres over 10.5 hours.
Next morning, the sometimes ’type II fun’ we’d had the previous day already reflected the dawn radiance coating a rime-encrusted landscape beyond the hut door. Anyone who’s been blessed with a clear dawn at Arete Hut knows that it’s one of the best vantage points in the entire Tararua Ranges. In August the sun breaches the skyline directly behind Bannister which, with its companions Waingawa, the Twins and Arete, forms a striking vista. Looking the other direction and dawn light bathed Table Ridge, Mitre, Brocket, Girdlestone, Pinnacle, Lancaster and Thompson in the warmth of a new day.
We weren’t in a hurry to set off. The photographic opportunities were endless and the warming sunshine didn’t motivate any vigorous walking in sodden, semi frozen boots. A glance along our impending route did excite though. We knew we had another big day in store because there are no maintained tracks to Carkeek Hut. Let’s go!
But then, let’s stop — to take another photo. The terrain leading up to 1504 metre Lancaster from Arete Hut, then all the way along Carkeek Ridge is spectacular enough even in dull weather, with the deeply cut Waiohine valley plunging below to the east and Park valley to the west, and peaks and ridge tops stretching out in every direction. Now add the other-worldly dense coating of micro rime ice and a perfectly clear winter sky and well, how could any self respecting photographer just blast on through? Even Mt Ruapehu and Taranaki Maunga were clearly visible on the horizon.
In fact, in places rapid travel was also impeded by sections of steep terrain, mostly on the hidden southern, downward sides of the ridge. This prompted Andy to introduce me to the joys of micro spikes — stretchy rubber outers housing small metal spikes that easily fit tightly around your boot soles. No front points like crampons, but still affording excellent grip on ice-encrusted surfaces, while also allowing safe, comfortable movement on rocky terrain. They are so lightweight that he carried two pairs. I was most impressed and will certainly invest in a pair.
We made our way steadily over Thompson, Carkeek and two other un-named high points before a hint of orange appeared just beyond the tree line ahead. As we closed the gap our hopes were confirmed — Carkeek Hut lay bathed in sunshine in a small clearing at 1070 metres, surrounded by magnificent goblin forest.
Built in 1962 by the NZ Forest Service to support deer culling operations in the forest park, Carkeek is one of 14 six bunk S70-type Forest Service huts. Until recently Victoria University of Wellington Tramping Club members intermittently undertook maintenance work on the hut. They sometimes enjoyed the fruits of their labour on traditional ‘Carkeek Picnics’ over demanding weekends — as Andy and I now appreciated, it’s a long way to reach Carkeek from any direction.
In just February 2022 several ex-NZFS members, supported by Backcountry Trust funding, replaced the hut’s roof, made other repairs and repainted the entire hut in its original ‘DOC Rescue Orange’. That explained why we could see it from so far away as we made our approach that morning. We were impressed with the ex-NZFSers handy-work. The hut looked great, both outside and within — not at all like the damp and weather-beaten relic that I’d imagined. There were even a couple of fold-up deck chairs sitting on a ledge above and inside the front door.
Those deck chairs and the sunny clearing outside the hut sorely tempted us to stay. Regrettably though, after lunch we had to keep moving. We had at least two days of hard tramping still to cover to get out and the weather was due to deteriorate late the next day.
To begin with, our journey further south, back into the goblin forest was a pleasure. Quite frequently spaced white permolat strips marked the route along a broad ridge. ‘This is too good to be true’ I said, ‘we’re in the heart of the Tararuas after all!’ Then the steep, slippery 600 metre plunge to Park Forks began. In equal measures, my knees hotly scolded me and gratefully thanked the Voltaren 75 I’d taken that morning. At least Park River was an easy shin-deep wade to cross, and a large DOC orange triangle on the far bank left no doubt as to where the route up to Nichols started.
The climb was quintessential Tararua — relentlessly steep, slippery, often demanding three points of contact, and constant attention to stay in touch with the permolat ‘bread crumbs’. Dripping sweat and 550 metres higher, we emerged from the tree line. As we reached the ridge top just shy of Nichols, the evening light rewarded us for our fortitude. Beneath a still completely clear sky, to our left the ridge linking Nichols with Pukematawai — the route we’d take next day — glowed in warm orange light. Then Carkeek Ridge stretched back down towards us from distant Lancaster, also glowing orange, as did Dorset Ridge and the main Tararua Range further east. This day had been an orange fest, both natural and DOC rescue.
After 9 solid hours on the move, we were in good heart down at Nichols Hut that evening. Unlike our arrival yesterday at Arete, we were now verglas free and the water tap wasn’t frozen, so preparing a hot feed was no problem. Although not DOC rescue orange — it’s light green with a rust-red roof, Nichols is also a six bunker. About 160 metres higher than Carkeek, the hut is nestled 40 metres down into a south-facing cirque, affording a nice view down Waiohine River and out to Mt Holdsworth.
Next morning clag gave us an excuse to stay in our sleeping bags for longer. The way ahead was new ground for me, but being a well trodden section of Te Araroa, it didn’t hold any of the menace that our previous day had. We began our ascent into clag and towards the ridge about 8.30a.m. I felt a pang of disappointment up on 1242 metre Nichols. If it was clear we would see the entire route of the coming day, which tagged ten marked highpoints on the map before reaching 1432 metre Pukematawai, some 11 kms distant. We were in luck though — before reaching the tree line north of Nichols, shafts of sunlight began to penetrate the fast swirling clouds, revealing ever widening and longer glimpses of what lay ahead.
A standout on this section was the goblin forest, which went on for longer stretches than I’ve seen anywhere else. There were also more short stretches of tops than the topo map suggested, revealing impressive vistas in both directions of the ridge we were walking, plus lovely views east to the main range. Mt Crawford dominated the view south and to the east, the jagged fins of the Broken Axe Pinnacles drew my gaze more than once through windows in the canopy as we progressed. Some sections were more rugged than I’d expected, with a few steep, exposed moments thrown in. And it was long.
About halfway along the ridge we paused at two-bunk-cutey, 1100 metre Dracophyllum Hut, before pushing on to Pukematawai. By then the weather was clearly changing as per the MetService forecast. We plugged on, hoping to at least avoid rain until next day. This wish was granted, although the wind gusts intensified as we climbed back up into dense, Pukematawai-concealing clag. The first spits arrived as we made our first brew back down at Te Matawai Hut, 8 hours after having set off from Nichols Hut.
Before year’s end I planned to become a Mainlander, shifting from Wellington to a new home in Richmond, where close proximity to several national parks will likely demand my full attention. ‘Ah well’ I said philosophically as we shouldered our packs on the final morning, ‘we are in the Tararuas. Soaked boots, rain, mud, ups and downs. It’s a fitting farewell I suppose.’ Andy nodded knowingly as we prepared to step out into the morning rain.
Soon after Te Matawai Hut the trail drops steadily for over 200 metres. I also (wrongly) recalled a second step before we bottomed out at 690 metre Butcher Saddle. So as the climb back up to Richards Knob just kept on going, black ‘Tararua brutality, kicking till the bitter end’ type thoughts were playing on my mind. It was a welcome surprise then, when the DOC sign appeared from the gloom up at 985 metre Richards Knob. From there on it was mostly downhill to the car, and Andy had one more little surprise for me. Throughout our journey, from his unfeasibly small lightweight pack he kept pulling out delicious looking stuffed wraps. As we headed downwards he offered one to me. ‘Only if you really do have enough’ I said pathetically hopefully. He did; and I can strongly recommend the Caruthers Turbo Wrap — Pics peanut butter, salt n vinegar chippies and camembert cheese — as much as can be jammed into the available space — bloody marvellous!
We weren’t quite out of the woods yet though. The slip prompting DOC to close the trail we were now on still lay ahead. When we reached it, we did ponder for a moment how best to get across, but Andy spotted a steep worn patch down onto the slip face that lead across to a mud caked rope on the far side. Though care with haste was required, it wasn’t too difficult to rejoin the track on the far side.
Then we encountered a second steeper slip nearer the Ohau River’s edge. This one forced us up on to a little-used high trail, obstructed by seemingly endless treefall. Eventually, mud-covered, scratched and weary, we reached the Waiopehu Track junction once again. Circuit closed, mission accomplished!
Peter Laurenson — www.occasionalclimber.co.nz