Thursday, March 28, 2024

FROM THE RIDGE: How to convince an unenthusiastic wife

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“Every Kiwi should walk the Tongariro Alpine Crossing at least once in their lives,” I pronounced. Jane gazed at me and looked unconvinced. We had a wedding coming up in Turangi and I thought if there was a suitable weather window we should take an extra day and walk it.
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Over 30 years earlier I had done it with my mate Richard, who, as it happened, was the father of the groom at said wedding.

We had decided to climb Mount Ngauruhoe and being good rural males did no due diligence at all.

We packed a lunch and plenty of fluids and set off early, thinking it would take much of the day. 

We were surprised to find ourselves walking around the rim of the crater before mid morning. After all, it looks pretty high from afar.

We even shuffled down into the volcano itself as this was well before we became aware of its eruptions, those at nearby Ruapehu a decade later and, of course, the disaster on White Island last year.

We were even more surprised the jog down the steep scree slope took only 10 to 15 minutes and found ourselves back on the track at smoko time with an uneaten lunch.

Next thing a couple of tourists wandered along and we asked them where they had come from. They told us the Tongariro Crossing, which we had never heard of.

Such was their enthusiastic praise for what they said was the best tramp they’d ever done, we thought that would be a great way to use up our lunch and drinks.

We were mindful that our wives had told us not to be late for the booked dinner in Turangi that evening but with a very loose plan we didn’t think that would be an issue.

So, again without any due diligence, a sometimes overrated activity but, in my life experience, also something greatly missed at times, we set off in the direction our informants had come from.

It was a most satisfying physical exertion for an couple of young bucks and the scenery was amazing.

This being three decades ago there was hardly anyone else around.

We began discussing whether we should turn back for the car or keep going and take our chances on a lucky lift back to the vehicle. We went for the latter option.

We eventually caught up with an Irish bloke heading down the northern slopes of Tongariro and were very interested to hear he had a car waiting for him.

Further inquiry indicated he was planning to drive north to Taupo.

We turned on the charm, fed him, carried his pack and eventually asked if he wouldn’t mind dropping us back around at the start of the track.

He wasn’t that keen but we assured him it was only 10 minutes or so.

When it transpired we had forced him to drive 40 minutes south only to have to drive another 40 minutes north to get back to the same spot we felt obliged to give him the rest of the sweeties and a few loose dollars from our car.

By the time we got to Turangi we thought we’d better call into the restaurant on the unlikely chance our wives weren’t organising search parties and fretting at home.

They were just finishing their mains on the basis if they were now widows there was no reason to go hungry.

The guests and staff applauded our arrival and didn’t seem to object that we were in tramping gear and rather filthy.

Jane remained unenthusiastic during the wedding and I kept pointing at the brilliant weather forecast.

I suggested if we started from the not recommended northern end we would do the hard yards of climbing for a couple of hours and she could then decide whether she or both of us then beat a retreat.

The plan had the added benefit of saving us $70 in shuttle bus fees if I could get a southbound wedding guest to relocate our ute.

She agreed.

I hadn’t realised that to avoid the ute being towed away from the car park after four hours we would have to walk an extra 2km uphill to get to the start.

After a discussion at the go, no go spot it was determined we would both continue.

We had the walk through the beech forest to ourselves and it wasn’t until we were above the snow line we began meeting those who had been dropped early at the other end.

I knew there would be a lot so began counting and telling them what their place was as well as saying hello to each of them.

Shy of 300 I met a ranger. He told me because the track was closed the day before and this was a fine Sunday up to 2000 were expected and all but us two were heading north.

I stopped counting but continued to greet the steady stream of trampers. I probably said hi to 1500 folk before I lost interest in that as well.

We walked past the Green then Emerald Lakes and up the steep scree to the highest point on the Red Crater at 1900 metres with that amazing panoramic view of Tongariro’s craters, Ngauruhoe and some of Ruapehu. 

The crowds had gone but a lone Frenchman from the Basque region caught us up heading for his car at our finishing end as he had walked in from there.

Naturally, I became his best mate and was delighted to hear that he was heading to Taupo and would be happy to drop me off but I’d have to keep up as his four-hour parking would be up soon.

I left Jane to take her time and almost had to jog on tiring legs to stick with my taxi driver. Consequently, I did complete the walk in six hours rather than the expected seven or more.

By the time I returned with the ute Jane had just arrived and though both tired and sore, we were both very pleased with ourselves on the drive home.

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