Hanne

I love bushwalks. The feeling of being outdoors, under the trees, part of nature. The views from the top of each peak that make the climb so worth it. The sense of achievement after a long day’s walk. Stephen, however, sees things differently. For him the only difference between a cracker ride and a cracker bushwalk is the level of pain in his legs after the latter. In some respects I understand this viewpoint. Yes, riding a bike you do get very close to the contours of the land, particularly on roads such as the Karangahake Gorge. Yes, there is the opportunity to pull over at scenic lookouts and pose to prove to Facebook that your life is exciting, and to some degree there is a sense of achievement after any long journey. I do think you get quite a different experience of a ride depending on whether you are rider or pillion, and perhaps my view of riding is clouded by having ridden pillion so often lately. Nevertheless, on the 3rd of January it was my turn to initiate an adventure, so into the Waitaks we went.

Perhaps I should eleaborate on this ‘we’. Duncan, Stephen and I are all part of the SMC (Auckland Uni Scooter and Motorcycle Club) and as 3 members of the 5 party group, we made up a majority. The other two trekkers were friends of mine from high school. Anne has done plenty of tramping her whole life. Miranda, on the other hand, had never actually been on so much of a bushwalk. We were a motley bunch, but started out fresh faced, complete with hats, sunblock and a picnic in each of our knapsacks.

Here comes the bikes part! Duncan the northshorian decided to meet us in Titirangi. You may have observed this before, but full riding gear is not necessarily the best equipment for trekking through the bush. Luckily the Caldina has a massive boot, so Duncan was able to park up, strip off and catch a ride with us. Our destination? Upper Huia Dam.

The route up to the dam followed a metal road and meandered under leafy trees. The road is to the upper carpark is usually open but as of November 2009 it is permanently locked. Probably to keep hoons like us out. Seeing as we had no bolt cutters handy, we unloaded and started to walk. Truth be told, we probably could have sneaked the DR around the front gate and ridden all the way to the dam. But that would have defeated the purpose of the bush ‘walk’!

Two thirds of the way to the dam we reached a tunnel. A long, dark, tunnel. Complete with a huge ‘danger’ sign that recommended industry grade hard hats be worn at all times. And another that warned of falling rocks. That was confidence inspiring! I guess ATGATT really does mean ALL the time… I am happy to say that we managed to pass through the passage without losing any of our party. We also had a play on a little jigger that was locked to the tracks (bolt-cutters-wish-moment #2) and Duncan and I became intrepid explorers, following the tram tracks and a pipeline through another tunnel and right up to the dam. Or should I say, ALMOST up to the dam. There was a slight obstacle between us and our destination, namely a securely locked grill. Strike three, we were out. Next time bolt cutters will be the first thing in the pack!

What followed was a most civilized picnic lunch atop a dam, with views down a sheer drop on one side and to the other the placid waters destined for Auckland’s taps. Smoked tuna, grainwaves and cheese buns were on the menu. And scroggin chocolate. It’s not a proper bushwalk without scroggin. It did seem rather ionic that it was at this point that we realized we were very low on water. The day bloomed far hotter than anticipated, and 750ml per person doesn’t go too far when combined with semi-strenuous exercise. There we were, looking out over a vast expanse of drinking water and unable to actually taste a drop. At this point we weren’t too worried, though. It was nearly time to go home, and another hour and a half of downhill was quite doable. Rather, it WOULD HAVE BEEN quite doable. It may have been a ood idea to consult a map at this point.We decided to take the other route out.

When I asked Stephen if he wanted to come I told him we were headed for a series of approximately one hour walks. And this was not a lie. The only catch is that once you reach the end of one you are still in the middle of the bush, and have no choice but to continue down the next or turn back for an hour of steep downhill the way you just came. When Stephen asked Duncan how much further, Duncan acted on my advice and replied ‘oh, not much further’. Duncan, our Huia Dam expert, was just as much in the dark as to our whereabouts as any of us, but wisely did not let this on. We were not going to lose hope that ‘downhill’ still existed! Miranda’s original smiles were quickly fading. By the end of the first hour on Nugget Track we were well acquainted with the word ‘up’.

By the end of the second track we were also well acquainted with the word ‘mud’. Despite the heat of the day water had managed to pool itself right in the middle of the track every 200m or so, creating sludgy bogs. These were a real adventure to cross! It was like being five years old again and going on a bear hunt through the garden. ‘We can’t go over it, we can’t go under it, we can’t go round it…. Uh oh, we’ll have to go through it! Squeech squelch squeech squelch..’ Anne was very glad she chose this walk to break in her tramping boots as her feet were the most prepared of any of ours. By now Miranda was well and truly ready to be home again. A cold shower, hot dinner and snuggly couch were all looking incredibly attractive. She gave us a look that said ‘and people actually do this for FUN?!’, and I couldn’t help but laugh. I have a feeling Stephen recognizes that look from the times I have popped down to the shed and been roped into sprocket-cleaning, chassis-sanding or other similar things that seem like a good idea for the first hour.

All of this up-trekking, mud-splodging and general foot abuse did not go down too well with my runners. Four hours into our epic walk they finally decided to give up the ghost. It was not a gear shift lever that got them, but a tree root. A dire case of resistentalism. My foot was viciously attacked by the nether regions of a mature Pohutukawa, ripping the top from the sole as Tane tore Rangi from Papatuanuku. Emergency footwear situation… it was Super Anne to the rescue! The next best thing to duct tape, our on-the-road fix using medical tape held up incredibly well.

By now we had been walking for over 5 ½ hours and sure the end must be near. The boys had gone ahead, which worked in our favour rehydration wise. Let me explain. Upon entering a clearing I was greeted by three cheery trampers who who asked if I was Duncan’s friend. Indeed, I replied. These trampers had met the lads further down the hill, got chatting and offered them some water. Chivalrous as they are, the boys nobly declined, saying we were probably more in need of fluid. These trampers had waited for us at the clearing to offer water and the enouragement that there was only 30 minutes of walking left. It was lucky we saw them as Duncan had left his ID card at one end of the clearing, at the end of an arrow made of sticks. When I asked him about this he explained it was a marker to show where they had gone. A new twist on the tale of Hansel and Gretel…

As it turned out, the last half hour of the walk offered the most spectacular views. Still, it felt good to finally come across the last shoe-spraying save-the-kauri Bio-hazard area, as it meant we were almost out. Civilisation! Water! Cornetto Icecreams! We didn’t ask for much…

So, evaluating the lessons learnt from this Back To Nature foray:
1. Always pack a bolt cutter
2. Water is good
3. Maps can be quite handy…

All in all our little bushwalk turned into quite an adventure. I have a feeling that Stephen won’t be trading his next ride for a bush walk any time soon, but after 15km of bush trails we all had something to feel proud of. Duncan and I have decided to join the uni tramping club, in an effort to try and preserve relations with our remaining friends.