Thursday 22nd.

Somewhat chasteded by yesterday's river crossing lessons,' the party proceeded downstream. They met the farmer John Queith who was out on horseback. He very kindly helped them cross the Wilkin, which was still very enlarged after the rain. They very gingerly crossed the Makarore and arrived at Dave Carers, the car and civilisation. Phil Burgess then remembered he had left his camera ("full of lovely photos") across the other side of the river. Forgetting how difficult it was to cross the river he plunged into the Makarora, retrieved the camera and plunged back again with his camera between his teeth. The camera was not insured. It seems that the answer to successful impossible river crossings lies in [unclear: moti] tion.

The Wilkin in beautiful trampers country and all have Vowed to return. There are mountains in abundance and deer in semi- abundance; the only snag is the River.

Phil Burgess.

Party Members: Dave Greig (leader), Phil Burgess, Neil Haddocks, Kevin Pearce. Dave Stonyer, Pat McNaught.

PB/DG.

Hqllyford - Wanaka with variatians (intentional and otherwise).

Intended route: Holly ford valley - Cow Saddle - Fiery Col - Fohn Saddle - Dard River - Cascade Saddle - Wanaka.

We left Wellington on the evening ferry to Picton on Friday Nov. 25 and by midnight all theee of us were camped by the roadside near Blenheim. 2½ days hitch-hiking from there had us at the end of the Hollyford road in pouring rain Three hours was necessary for us to get to hidden falls hut, and was sufficient to get saturated. A roaring fire had all gear dried out by the time, turned in for the first night of the trip.

Next morning was still wet, but after a liesurely breakfast reluctantly set off up the steep hill behind the hut. In order to travel up Hidden Phils Creek, one has to climb high above the creek to avoid the waterfall and gorge at the start. We therefore page break travelled along a ridge seme 200 ft. or so above the river, making a couple of trips down to the river to find it still too gorgy to travel in. The size of the river indicated that it was in fact the main river, thoug-h other factors seemed to contradict this. 'On our third descent to tthe river we saw that the gorge had ended and the river was broad and slow —— almost like a lake, It was even more like a Lake further upstream. As we sidled ground' it we wondered why it was not recorded on any map, Above the lake the creek was much smaller and steeper, descending in a series of small waterfalls, By this time it was late in the afternoon and our only concern was to find a suitable campsite, We were no longer interested in where we were, After much searching we finally came out on an open rocky knob and pitched the tent on a rather exposed and uncomfortable site. Pat hastily explained that the large number of patches did not indicate that the tent would leak. They were merely the result of the MeNaught cat doing a traverse of the tent while it was pitched in their backyard. It appeared that the cat had kicked steps up one side and glissaded down the other.

Visibility improved in the evening and we could see that we were not in Hidden Falls Creek, but had no idea where we actually were. In the hour of daylight that remrined one per person was sent off armed with map, compass, torch (just in case) and "Moir's guide to everything except Hidden Falls Creek" to see if he could draw any conclusions from the low pass we could see in the ridge nearby. His only conclusion Was that the pass was much further that in looked, as we last saw his light, miles away, at about 11p.m. The rain began again as we settled into our pits.

At first light the next day the missing one had still not returned so the ether two began a search which lasted about two hours, by when we were all together, but all lost. He was none the Worse for his night out in the rain without a sleeping bag, tho gh his map, compass and Moir were all lost. We stumbled onto the tent some time later and sat in our pits for the rest of the day while the advatages of a well-drained campsite were becoming more and more apparent. The next morning we made an ignominious retreat all' the way back to Hidden Falls Hut arriving rather late due to heavy packs, flooded creeks, and bum navigation. Having lost the Alpine Club's Olivine map we were forced to use the Lands & Survey's old map which clearly marks a sidestream of Hidden Falls Creek.

The next day dawned with a mixture of sun and rain. We spent the morning drying out our gear, and after lunch packed up and set off up the now-familiar steep hill. We carefully crossed the sidestreat we had gone so far up before sidled round a low spur to drop into the real "creek" and pitched the tent, in some bush flats near the river. A large area of page break ferms was obliberated to provide our bedding and we prepared for an early start the next morning.

The bush was so dark and gloomy when we left at 6.30 a.m. that we could't tell whether it was fine or evely overast. All we knew was that it wasn't raining, untl about 10 a.m. after that it was raining. Travelling up hidden Falls Creek was very difficult at first but gradually improved unil, quite suddenly we emerged onto broad open flats. These remained more or less continous until the bushkine. By the time we reached the Board tussock top of Cow Saddle, it was 4 p.m. and raining heavily, also windy and rather cold. The top of the pass was just below the mist level, so without the service of the trusty dector we also just below had no idea where Friey Col was, so we crossed into the upper services of the trusty doctor we reaches of the Olivine river and camped there, Huey made a concerted effort to rip our tent to shreds that night but fortunately drew no blood.

The next morning was still blustery but the rain had virtually stopped. We set off down the Olivine until we could see the Olivine ledge high above us. By this time the whether was clearing and we could see some mighty peaks as we sidled up onto the ledge. Travelling along the ledge was made difficult by a few gorges which cut across it, so it was 2.30 p.m. when we started to climb towards Fohn saddle. It was 2.30 p.m. when it missed the saddle by iles, so returned to a suitble campsite at the foot of the saddle. Nearly a foot of snow was too much packed it away after a rather miserable night. Though it was we came to a halt, wondering where to go next. Cle said "go left", and said "go right", one said "go back". We followed the latteer course.

Not particularly keen on another night above the snowline, we headed for the bivvy rock "discovered" by the VUWTC party the previous summer. Dropping off the Olivine ledge into the river was hairy to say the least. How teees can grow upright on a vertical rock slab is completely beyond me. Our course down the river we largely dictated by gravity. Despite the heavy rain the river was not running at all high. Crossing the Termination sidetream was rather interesting all the same as we still had bivvy, an impressve glacial boulder overhanging onall sides, and with a perfectly dry dirt floor. The only signs of civilization were a neat stack of firewood, and a scrap of paper on the floor which read "Fraser said 1,000 real answer 125." We hung up the sadly tattered tent, under the shelter of the rock, to dry out and settled down glad to have a solid roof our heads again.

Early next morning the three of us gazed out from our warm pits in wonder and amazement had happened. It was page break fine However, action superceded shock and we gulped down our breakfast, hastily sewed the 45th patch on the tent and wet off towards Fohn saddle. A minimum of [unclear: scru] hashins got us back on the edge, now covered with a mantis of snow. We made no mistake about the route and lunched in the thick snow on the top of the pass. The views of mountains and rivers, near and far, were really fantastic, and all that had happed the week before was duly forgiven.. We pushed down through nnee deep snow to the upper Beansburn flats to set up camp early in the afternoon. A heavy frost overnight heralded the down of another perfect day. We rather reluctantly forced ourselves to hurry down the Beansbrun in the midday heat, to arrive at the broad shingle bed of the Dart River late in the afternoon. We crossed the river that evening after backing out of waist deep water on our frist attempt, and camped in .the bush on the left bank.

The next morning we wasted much time in an unsuccessful attempt to sidle round the Sandy Bluff and we reached Dredgeburn Hut in time for a rather late lunch. By the time we reached Cattle Hut it was raining again and we skipped up the pace in the fading light to arrive at the Whitburn Flats just on nightfall. We turned in to sleep soundly after a 12 hour day, happy that Cascade Saddle ' could be crossed the next day if it were fine.

It wasn't. We got as far as Dart Hut (1½ hrs.,) and stayed there while snow fell on and off all afternoon, More snow the next morning closed the door on Cascade Saddle so we set out over Snowy saddle in alternating sunshine and snowshowers. After crossing the pass we sped on down the Rees to make a final camp some three hours from the roadend. It snowed again overnight, then became brilliantly fine as we made our was back to civil-lotion. A local miner gave us a welcome lift into Glenorchy and we sat on the shores of Lake Wakitipu in the afternoon sun, having a last look at the mountains before turning to the road to make the long journey home.

Nick Whitten.

Party: Pat McNaught, Jim Swadling, Nick Whitten.

NKW/DG.

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In three years, VUWTC will be, fifty years old would you believe it? It's true. So what about an expetlitition to the Andes/Hinalayas/Antarctica to celebrat o it. Al1 we need is a plan, sene noney (like $$$$). and a persuasive line. Who is game?

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Comment heard on a trapping trip.:-

'Experience is whatt cories from surviving inexperience.'

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