Tramping Club

Three weeks ago we held our second Sunday tramp for this year ostensibly to the Lower Whakatiki River, but as the "best laid plans"—we went a little awry; this perhaps can be accounted for by the fact that not even the leader knew quite how to reach "those pleasant surroundings." However the sun shone through, and we had an excellent tramp from Moonshine over the hills to Paremata. We really are rather proud of our day's "winter crossing."

The following week a party of ten got a taste of real Tararua tramping on the Hutt Forks-Quoin-Alpha round trip. After sweltering over the Hutt Forks and freezing in the intense cold on the tops, the party was quite ready for enormous meals in Alpha Hut, to the accompaniment of "The Virgin Sturgeon" and similar choice items in, tramping tradition. No one will forget sleeping out in the snow at 3,500 feet, or searching in the mist for the way off the summit of Alpha—any more than the sight of Ruth Fletcher and Mary Mackersey jammed into one sleeping-bag, or Douglas Yen's [unclear: critique] on women students, or the little poker school in the Upper Hutt ladies' waiting room. A day's [unclear: dalay] in returning caused more consternation among ill-informed parents than discomfort to the trampers.