Blog Roddus

Blog Roddus
My Favorite Place

Saturday, September 27, 2003

Mt Storm 27th September 2003

Uncle Roddus Tramping diary:Tramp No. 26
Mt Storm 27th September 2003
A Christchurch Tramping Club trip from the Lees Valley, we Left from Snowdale Homestead and headed up the ridge just to the north. A party of 10 ascended the ridge direct to Mt Storm in blustery North west conditions.Half the party took about an hour and a half to reach the top, where lunch was taken, waiting for the rest of the group, who had lunch further down. Wind protection apparatus was donned for the travel along the tops as the wind was very strong up there and some smaller people had to hold on to each other to stop being blown off the ridge. I am uncertain now where we actually dropped off the tops, but my diary mentions that some of the party got ahead and dropped off at the wrong point and the rest followed. After negotiating some bluffs we finally arrived at the car which we had left at Mt Pember Station. A trip through open scrub and tops with great views of the valley, partly spoiled by the strong winds.
Lees Valley

The Puketeraki Range

Lees Valley
 

Sunday, September 21, 2003

Basic Snow Craft Course 20-21 September 2003

Uncle Roddus Tramping Diary:Tramp No. 25
 Basic Snow Craft Course 20-21 September 2003


This was my basic snowcraft course that I did  with the CTC. Below is the report i wrote for this weekend posted on the CTC website.

After missing out on a place earlier this year, I was very keen not to miss out again. I booked 3 weeks ahead this time and managed to secure a place on the course. I received a call from Adrian Busby about mid week to confirm times and places, and it was decided that I would find my own way up from Oxford to Arthur's Pass.

I arrived at the club hut before the others and so I waited in my car parked outside the hut. Adrian and his crew arrived about 20 minutes later. I saw his Toyota arrive on the lane and then start to reverse into the hut carpark. Concerned that he couldn't see me, I put my foot on the brake to warn him and when I saw him pull forward to correct his approach, I thought that he had seen me. I watched in my mirror as he continued to reverse and the next thing I know is that he has backed up so close to my car that you couldn't have slid an onion skin between us. I was too scared to open the door or put my head out of the window for fear of losing it. I was just about to sound the horn when he stopped and started to pull forward. Finally when he had parked a safe distance away, I got out of my car very relieved and the first thing he said to me was, "I didn't even see you there". And so this was my first meeting with "The Great Busby".
George and his crew arrived soon after to report a fire at a hay barn near Grassmere Lodge.
A real mix was this group. We had one Australian (Brad), one Japanese (Taka), two English (John & Kate), one Kiwi woman (Bernadette), two Kiwi blokes (George and Myself(Rodney)) and Adrian (Displaced). After the introductions, unloading and bed claiming, it was straight down to business (crampons). I had with me my own crampons, brand new and still in the box. Adrian had a well stocked toolbox, a vice and various straps and rivets. He then proceeded to talk at great length about crampons, strapping, boots, and why he had all this stuff. I sat and listened, smug in the knowledge that as I had new crampons I wouldn't have any problems with my strapping.

By the end of the night I had completely rebuilt my entire strapping system, due to missing straps and the overcomplicated system they came with. I am also now very confident that I could repair any part of that system when it needs it. The only problem was that I accidentally cut one strap too short, which I didn't discover until the next day when trying to fit them on the mountain. Adrian's philosophy of keeping it simple paid off the next day when 3 people lost their crampons off their boots while walking on the mountain.
Saturday dawned grey and wet, and we set off to see what it looked like at Temple Basin ski field. It didn't look too bad and what better way to get experience in snow than when it is snowing. We ascended the mount with Adrian talking at great lengths about ice axes, snow plugging, cornices, snow caves, avalanches, white outs and lots of other stuff which may or may not come back to me in years to come. After a quick munch at the public shelter, which we had to dig our way into, we left our packs and set off to find a slope to practice our ice axe arrests.
And practice we did, sliding down this slope every which way; feet first, head first, forward, backwards, each time trying to stop our selves in the correct manner with our trusty ice axes. It was actually quite fun, although I lost count of how many times I slid down that slope. We had a fast learning group and Adrian was happy with our progress so that after lunch, instead of continuing our arrest practice we moved onto "fun with crampons". So we stomped around with our crampons for a while but as the snow was so fresh and soft they weren't much use really, so we decided to carry on with ice axe arrest, but alas the weather took a turn for the worse and it was decided to call it a day and head back to the hut. A quick stop for beer, then back to the hut where Adrian talked at great length on many diverse subjects. We finished the day with a couple of hours at the Bealey hotel, where, much to Georges delight he found out the rugby score.
We awoke on Sunday to about 4 inches of snow on our cars. This prompted a sleep in, a slow motion breakfast, more talking from Adrian and leaving the hut at late morning to head back towards CHCH and see where we could go.
Adrian led us for a stroll up the Hawdon Valley, on a beautiful clear afternoon, aiming, perhaps for the Hawdon hut. At the gate in the fence across the river, Adrian wisely decided to give us an impromptu course in river crossing. He then proceeded to talk at great length about rivers and crossing them and other associated topics. We then proceeded to cross the Hawdon several times in the method shown.
After lunch, in which we had a "group moan" about banks (of the money variety), we continued up stream and saw a group of four trampers coming downstream. We met them at a river crossing where they watched us link up and cross. We then stopped and watched what they would do. From their body language they looked undecided as to how they would cross and we thought they were going to have a go at crossing separately (the river was about thigh depth and quite swift with snow melt). They knew we were watching and eventually linked up and crossed safely. Adrian talked at great length about how they were not in the right order to lend each the best support and their linking wasn't correct.
We continued on to the east Hawdon Stream, where it was decided to turn around and go back to the cars. Before we set off on our return journey, someone brought up the subject of navigation, and so Adrian talked at great length about maps and compasses, GPS and many other things. We headed back along the east bank of the river, practicing our newly learnt river crossing technique about 3 more times with Adrian making me leader, in the middle, then deliberately holding his end of the line back to see if I was awake and correct our crossing.
A very enjoyable weekend, and on behalf of the all on the course, I wish to thank Adrian for sharing with us his vast knowledge and experience.

fortunatly there was snow

Relaxing in the Club hut

Preparing to leave

The Hawdon Valley

Continuing up the valley

through the trees

A little hill in the background

Posing for the river crossong.

Sunday, September 14, 2003

Bealey Spur/Jordon Stream 14th September 2003

Uncle Roddus Tramping diary:Tramp No.24
Bealey Spur/Jordon Stream 14th September 2003
This was another trip I did with the CTC and below is the report I wrote that was posted on their web page.

And so it was that your humble scribe decided it was again time to get off my behind and venture out into the wilderness with those nice people from the CTC. After having to pull out of the trip to Tarn Hut the weekend before, I figured that a nice moderate day trip up Bealey spur with Bernard would be a good way to start getting back in shape for the summers tramping. Now because this scribe is not always the most motivated tramper, it had been some months since my last outing, and due to my complete abhorrence to any form of regular exercise outside of tramping I figured that a moderate trip would about be my limit. A quick glance at my topo map on the computer at the area to be tackled and I was sure that it would be no problem.
9:00 am Sunday and I met our party of 5 blokes and no women (!!) at Springfield as I usually do. Weather was slightly overcast, not too windy, with patchy rain on the way up, as it was to stay for most of the day. The usual confused car shuffle occurred at Bealey huts resulting in Bernard leaving his car at the Waimak bridge and myself taking us back to Bealey huts and a game of catch up to the others who were now 10-15 minutes ahead of us. With great gusto we set off up Bealey Spur, with myself setting a brisk pace (by my standards) in hot pursuit of the rest of our party.
We caught up with the rest of the crew at a lookout point with great views of Bruce Stream. It was at this point that we picked up our hitchhiker. When Bernard and I arrived, the guys were chatting with a young Japanese woman whose name sounded something like Ume. She was well equipped with cameras and was staying at Arthurs Pass. After a few photos of my own, and the donning of our precipitation protection apparatus, we set of for the Bealey hut, with Ume accompanying.
Considering that I was wearing a watch, I am not sure what time we arrived at the hut, but I was definitely lagging behind at this stage. At the hut we found the easy trip crew had beaten us to all the comfortable places inside the hut and so we were relegated to standing round outside, eating and having photos taken with Ume.
A quick lunch and Bernard is ready to go as he knows better than most of us that there is a way yet to go and the intention is to be out by 5:00pm. I am especially keen on this plan as I have a party to go to that night and wish to get away as soon as possible. Ume decides that she is going to continue along the spur with us, although she probably had no idea of where we were actually heading to. (Of course it turns out that I had no idea of where we were actually heading to either).
Now it is from this point on that we hit the snow, and it is with great gratitude and relief from this unfit scribe to our leader and Mike for making our lives so much easier that day (of course they were in front because no one else could keep up with them).
At about 2:30pm, with Ume still with us and merrily snapping away with all her cameras, Bernard stopped on a snowy peak looking down on Little Jordon stream and announced that we would have to adopt "Plan B".
"What's Plan B?" I asked.
"To start our descent from here." He replied.
"So what was Plan A.?" I inquired.
"To continue along this snow covered ridge to that high point along there and then travel down that long spur there, to that stream way down there." He pointed.
"Oh" I exclaimed, "Plan B sounds much better to me, are you sure that is a moderate trip?"

We walked back along the ridge a way, and then Bernard made his next announcement.
"We could just go straight back along this ridge the way we came or we could drop down along here somewhere and bushbash our way down to the river flat. I'm gonna bushbash, if you want we could split up and those who want to can travel back along the track. You can follow me, but I take no responsibility for where we are heading."
One thing I'll say for CTC members, they don't shy away from adventure, and so it was that a bushbashing we did go, in time honoured CTC fashion, with Ume still game enough (or mad enough) to stay with us no matter where we went.
A plunging we did go into the bush. A stumbling and a slipping. A crunching and a cursing. With an oching and a snagging, with cries of "rock" echoing across the river flat. Until just when I thought this descent would never end, a voice called out from the River flat:
"They must be CTC members to be mad enough to come down there!"
As we tumbled out of the bush, we were met by Keith Johnston and Pam, walking their dog and trying to find where we were going to come out.
Your unfit scribe was rather knackered by this time and struggled complainingly over the last small hill towards the car, unsure whether he would be able to still stand at the end, let alone go to this party that night. We took Ume back to her car and gave her a copy of the CTC newsletter. So maybe our hitchhiker may turn up on another CTC tramp sometime soon.
As for me, not only did I get to the party but I even danced half the night away. There's hope for me yet.

me, on Bealey Spur


Bealy hut, Lunch.

Power Stream

A nice bit of snow to keep us on our toes. It was soft though, didn't need crampons thank god, didn't bring any.

Power Stream again.

looking down the waimack river

The Bush bash