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Across the Tararuas.

The weekend after the 1921 degree examinations finished, some twelve of us threw care to the winds and hoisting our packs upon our backs set out for the Tararuas. Those of us lucky enough not to be engaged in the bitter struggle for existence set forth by a train early in the morning. The rest of us, seven in number, two girls and five men, by means of great rushing and bustling managed to catch the 4.13 train from Thorndon to Otaki.

We settled ourselves as comfortably as may be in a second-class carriage on a New Zealand train, with our packs occupying quite a considerable amount of floor and rack space. As the wretched little train rattled its smoky way on, we laughed and talked merrily, all eagerly anticipating the two days of open air"and freedom.

We reached Otaki at about 7 p.m., and here we adjusted our packs and set forth to walk to the Otaki Forks, a distance of about fifteen miles over comparatively flat country. There we hoped to be greeted by the advance guard with hot coffee.

Our way at first lay along a road, but soon we left this and scrambled along a track. The darkness fell and the fickle moon betrayed us, so we had to resort to the aid of one small electric torch. Once we lost our way, but after a slight delay we righted ourselves and proceeded to scramble along a decidedly damp and narrow, but unfortunately by no means straight, path high above the Otaki River. On either side of us grew thick bush, from which twinkled and sparkled thousands of tiny lights; the glow worms were having a regular festival, whether in our honour or not we do not know.

After some miles of this scrambling we again struck the road, and then on and on, mile after mile with limbs aching and heads heavy, the very freshness of the air inviting sleepiness—mile upon mile of dreary trudging, tripping and stumbling over stones and ruts, unseen because the sullen moon still persisted in hiding her head. At this stage there were those in the party who asked themselves why they had come, and heartily wished themselves home— oh, the agony of aching feet and burning shoulders, the feeling of utter limpness and despair! While these thoughts were running through our minds, a halt was called and throwing off our packs we sat down and devoured the remains of our cut meal, a few sandwiches, scones and apples. Then up and on again into the night, with weary bodies but lighter hearts. Surely the way was not long now—and think of the lovely coffee waiting for us! Then we were in the bush again tramping on and on till oh joy, a light! flickering through the trees, then growing more steady as we approached, until far below us on the opposite bank of the river we could see the lights shining from the hut windows. How our hearts leapt—and the aches and pains in our limbs suddenly deserted us! Down a slippery, rough path we scrambled towards the river, and then oh, horror! a bridge consisting of one plank and two'wires swinging high above the river. It had to be crossed however, and .so we plunged ahead, but what a feeling—to be swaying in the, dark, apparently thousands of feet above a roaring torrent. Imagination is no comfort to one in such a position! But once again we page 40 were on firm, solid ground and climbed up to the hut. Here we were greeted with smiles and coffee! We flung our packs down, rushed for water and towels, and then sat down to a meal, hot stew and coffee helped out with ample supplies of bread, butter and jam.

Most of the advance guard were comfortably tucked up and some even snoring; once'we had satisfied the inner man, we followed their good example without any unnecessary delay. To some of us the night was long and full of discomfort, but to the majority of the party it was a period of complete oblivion.

In the morning at about 5 o'clock we rose and breakfasted; and rumour hath it that there were those among the party who had the pattern of wire matresses indelibly stamped on their tender flesh. Having dressed and packed our belongings we set forth on our adventure. Luckily the morning was fine and the sky blue.

Leaving the hut we mounted a hillside covered with dewy grass and foxgloves, but before long we entered the bush, and the real work began.

Up and up we climbed, a jolly party, chattering and laughing, and singing snatches of song. The bush was beautiful, green and brown, damp and sweet smelling. Then again we were in open country, scrambling up a steep, slippery track, while ahead of us loomed the peaks. Our present aim was to reach Table Top and breakfast.

As we climbed a mist swept down and enveloped us, and when we ultimately reached Table Top we were shivering, chilled, through and through by the damp mist. Here we lit a fire and boiled a billy, and hungrily devoured our breakfast. It was so cold that no one had any desire to linger and as soon as our hunger was satisfied we were off again—seeking higher and more distant peaks.

In a little while we called a halt and said farewell to the track, then we started forth over tussockland, with nothing to guide us but a few posts at very infrequent intervals. We stuck to the ridges and scrambled and puffed and shivered. The mist still surrounded us, and was indeed more like sleet, cold and damp, driving into our faces and freezing our hands and feet. Every blade of the tussock grass was coated with clear ice; we broke the stems off and ate them, thereby only increasing our thirst and making our teeth ache. Walking proved difficult, owing to the slipperiness of the ice; altogether this part of the tramp was not a little painful. Now and aigain the mist would lift for a short space, giving us an idea of the immensity of the view.

Between 10 and 11 o'clock we reached the highest point, Mt. Hector—generally considered some 5,080 ft., which height was belied by the barometer which one of our enthusiastic scientific friends had taken the trouble to carry up in a small packing case! Rumour hath it that this enthusiast adjusted the barometer at Porirua Harbour, having first been told that the said harbour was at sea level! We did not stay long on Hector, for although the mist lifted as a great curtain and displayed to our gaze a most magnificent view, the air was so cold that we had to hurry on. The view was truly magnificent—north, south, east and west, as far as the eye could reach, land, sea, and sky. We could see Otaki and the beach on one side, and page 41 the Wairarapa plains stretching away to the sea on the other. Faintly in the haze, we could see Wellington, and in the distance lay the South Island; while closer at hand rose range upon range of bushclad mountains.—We held our breath and gazed, and gazed again, the marvellous glory of it all held us spellbound! Up here in the heart of nature, with all its beauty spread before us, how small and trivial seemed the cares of everyday life! Those things which loomed large on our horizon down there in the smoky, unlovely city had suddenly dwindled and faded almost away—of what importance were they? All that mattered was life—great and glorious and free. Up there civilisation itself seemed to fade into insignificance, and one wondered if after all were not our primitive ancestors happier and perhaps wiser than we—with all our modern education? However we were not permitted to indulge in these thoughts for long; we took one last look and then continued on our way. Now the mist had cleared completely and overhead was a cloudless expanse of blue, the sun shone down on us and in a short time we had forgotten the cold. For miles we tramped along the top of the ridge, our eyes ever on Alpha, our goal for that day. Early in the afternoon we arrived at the hut, and with joy flung off our packs and set about getting a meal. We ate ravenously, and indulged in goodtempered argument. Everyone was delighted that the first day's work was at an end, and after all our tramping we found ourselves capable of appreciating to the full the pleasure of rest.

The afternoon passed happily, we cut large quantities of greenery for our beds and having had a hearty supper retired early to bed.

The hut consists of one room and in it are five bunks, four of them running from one corner, two above the others, and overlapping at the corner. The fifth is high up under the roof. One of the men swung himself, with some difficulty, into this high perch, and the rest of us distributed ourselves over the remaining bunks and the floor. The girls, four in number, slept (or rather lay and longed for sleep all night) in two of the bunks, one above the other. The other upper bunk was occupied by two men and the lower by one man, as it was broken. The other four men rolled themselves in sleeping bags and lay on the floor. For some time there was much chattering and giggling, and then one by one the men fell asleep, and some of the girls, but on the whole the girls had the worst time of it.

The night was still and quiet, broken only by the variety of snoring in the hut—this in itself provided quite a concert to the wakeful members of the party.

When the first rays of dawn penetrated through the small window, all was still and silent. Soon, however, our admirable chaperon awoke and aroused the sleepers. There were indeed many weary and aching limbs that morning, and it was with relief that most of the party left their beds and stretched their stiffened joints.

As soon m breakfast was over we left Alpha and set out for Omega. Down we plunged into Hell's Gates, and then up out on to Omega At Omega we left the track and struck out through the bush, with a view to reaching Marchant. This was unknown page 42 country and many wore the arguments in favour of all manner of directions—however, in time, and after some persistence in fighting our way through the bush, we reached Marchant itself.

We had lunch at about twelve, in a pleasant spot in some bush. From Marchant the trail started downwards towards Kaitoke. Now indeed we were weary, every bone and muscle seemed to ache, we toiled on silently and slowly—but suddenly we encountered a dog, then a second clog, and then a man! A mere man perhaps, but what of the burden he carried! He had come to meet us and had brought two bottles of elderberry wine to refresh us. The nectar of the (iods was not half so sweet—even now when we think of elderberry wine, a lovely warm refreshing glow fills us. It was like magic; the wine cheered our drooping spirits and eased our aching limbs—we rose as new men, and tramped forward cheerfully, singing and talking, full of fresh life.

At Kaitoke once again we had to walk across a plank and wire bridge, and in daylight the effect was even worse than before. However, once on the other side it was forgotten—and there we met the motorlorry which was to carry us to the Upper Hutt station. We were just in time for the train and sank, with glad sighs of relief, into our seats. It was over and we were sorry and yet glad; something had been accomplished; and always we would have the memory of a weekend of liberty and thorough enjoyment.

In the train we decided that we would go to the orchestral concert at Fuller's that night. We arrived in town shortly after six and without wasting any time we rushed away to our various homes, and having changed and dined we met again at Fuller's, at a quarter to eight. Here was a transformation scene indeed! In place of tlje dozen human beings who had dispersed on the station, clad in all manner of dresses and suits, with grimy fingernails and mudcaked boots, and swagging large and ungainly packs, we found a handful of extremely tidy and eminently respectable citizens, all showing obvious signs of very recent bathing and shaving. All that remained to speak of our adventure was the telltale effect of the sun's affection for some of our party—no amount of powder or other manmade remedies was of avail, our noses shone like beaconlights—proclaiming to all that we were not what we seemed, not merely quiet lawabiding citizens, but children of the wild—lovers of the open sky, the bush, the hills and a good stiff climb with weighty pack. Almost in pity we looked at the crowds around us and thought, "what do these know of life, the real thing? Not merely this eternal hustle and bustle, this eternal striving after worldly gain, but of the beauty and vastness of nature and the glory of life itself?"

In spite of these thoughts the concert was most enjoyable, and we had to admit that civilisation has its good points. Afterwards we went and had supper, and as we drank, although unspoken, there came to some of us the words of the old familiar College song:—

"Here's to the long white road that beckons, The climb that baffles, the risk that nerves; And here's to the merry heart that reckons The rough with the smooth, and never swerves."

—E. A.