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Heels 1981

Snow White And The Six Dwarfs

page 22

Snow White And The Six Dwarfs

Friday night saw four of us racing up to Upper Hutt,talking about the weather, cutting things fine,and missing the train. After flicking off lots of clinging little Hardimans with an iceaxe,we picked up Cathie,and that made six. Why six? Well that's how many bunks there are in Dorset Ridge Hut and it's also how many trampers you can fit in a Hillman Hunter (space-age Humber 80!)

Things were quite cosy in the car,and the bulging beauty quickly flew over the Rimutakas for a lube (grease-stop) at Featherston. Eric,who is heavily into thought-technology,had preprogrammed his car to stop at the Taratahi pub,and true-to-form we veered sharply to the right for the compulsory stop at the door.

All good things must come to an end (now who believes that!) and so we hit the road,then the gravel,then the road again,then a few gates,and finally the track to Mitre Flats.

Torchlight,moonlight,trees and stars. A good clear night for sleeping out. The others didn't think so,and they missed out on having a deer run over them in the early morning (missed out on damp pits too).

After breakfast,young Mattilillo put on a wonderful display of gallantry, fortitude and strength by piggy-backing the folks across South Mitre Stream so they could have dry feet. The conclusions from this experiment were that Chris is very light,Eric is heavy,and girls have warm cuddly thighs.

Up the track to Baldy we all plodded,crusty snow and crapping weather. We were on Cairn in three hours from the hut,just as lunch was being served at the frozen tarn. Dessert consisted of wind-blown snowflakes,so we just had to decline, and took off down the spur to Dorset Creek. Pretty good travel,a few 3-point falls, and Eric lost his watch.

An advance party of four was sent ahead to check out the creek,the track, and the hut on Dorset Ridge. The creek had Irene Swimming in it,the track had a fat hind grazing beside it,and the hut had neat views and snow all around.

We burned some leatherwood and a few socks to keep warm,then devoured stew, instant pud,jelly and fruit - mmm! A game of I-Spy reared its tired head,with such witty gems as DC (Dark Corner) and SL (Star Light). Well there are six bunks in Dorset hut,but we weren't sure if they were all going to be used for a while there. Eventually,however,an exhausted Chris crawled back into his own pit and there was peace and quiet on Walton Mountain.

"Raindrops are falling on my head." Hmm - mine too! Lots of condensation off the skylight - cool water flavoured with soot. Mud in your eye. We woke to another fine day,sun on Girdles tone and McGregor. Hard snow and cold tussock, good fun. Winter in the Tararuas. Seeing as it was Sunday,a fairly biblical sort of day, I decided to walk on the (frozen) water of Dorset tarn. Unfortunately the lord was a bastard,and waited until I had taken several steps before zapping the ice to make it break. Every step back was a cold,wet,deep one. Of course,when the others tried the ice didn't break at all,and much frivolity ensued.

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When we came to Tarn Ridge Irene and I decided to go for a side-trip,ostensibly to have a look at the view,but actually to warm our toes while we waited for the masses to come and plug some steps for us over Pinnacle and Girdlestone,heh, heh,heh. We trotted along towards Blatchford's grave,until we were quite sure they had gone past,then sneaked back and followed the snowy staircase up onto Brockett. Persons could be seen on the steep face of Mitre. Other persons sat on Brockett, looking at the hills and wondering what would be the best day to go back to town.

Anyway it was icey and it snowed briefly,and we all had lots of fun bombing off Mitre. A cold lunch inside the bushline,a quick run down to Mitre Flats,and then it rained! All along the sidle-track,trampers kept a view,lots of raindrops came and went,tired persons too. Carpark in the dark,greasies for tea,yay! On this great trip were:Cathie Feeney,Lynette Hartley,Irene Petrove,Martin (Eric) Clapham, Chris Hardiman and Matt Johnston.