New Years on Top of the Mountain - Alpine Camping on Ruapehu

I couldn’t believe I’d thought this was a good idea (to be fair though, that’s how most of the best adventures begin). My legs were nearly buckling under the weight of my pack and we had barely left the carpark. Putting my pack on to start with required massive feats of human strength combined with an awkwardness that made me looked like I had just done a great job of f**king up a complicated break-dance move. My pack was nearly half my weight at 24kg… I weigh 51kg… The laws of physics were lauging in my face. As we trudged up the mountain, the bulging pack on my tiny frame made it look from behind like there was a big red backpack that had grown legs and was walking up the mountain of it’s own accord. With every step, though, my body seemed to adapt to the incredible feats I was asking it to perform and felt more capable as we worked our way up the access road out of the Whakapapa skifield carpark. As I’ve said many times before, the body is merely a vehicle for accomplishing what the mind sets out to achieve. This was no different to enduring a 24 hour race. I just needed to keep moving.

 

 

I’ve been up Ruapehu countless times before, but this was to be my first alpine camping experience… On the summit… On new years eve. I couldn’t think of a more fitting way to end the year and see the new one in. So instead of my usual day pack, I was carrying provisions for what was originally planned as two nights up on the mountain. My mate Craig was nearly equally as crazy as me and we trudged up the hill, making slow but sure progress. When the access track ran out, we were greeted with the task of rock scrambling and rock hopping our way up our route. The weight of my pack threw me off balance constantly and I could feel my lower back bruising from where the weight was sitting on my hips. Climbing the mountain in Winter is definitely an easier task, when snow fills the crevices between the rocks and you can walk straight along your route without having to pick the line of least resistance. We had decided to take the route that entered the Whakapapa glacier at the end of the southernmost chairlift because the gradient was much more palatable than the direct route up to the plateau.

 

I had finished work at 2pm on New Years Eve and we made a break straight for the mountain, arriving about 4.30pm, so by the time we were popping over the edge of the climb and overlooking the crater lake, it was 8.30pm and sunset was upon us. The wind had just begun to pick up, I was soaked in sweat and as the sun lowered itself behind the peaks surrounding the crater, it began to get suddenly very cold. Craig was a little way behind me down the glacier and I weighed up the pros and cons of taking my pack off to get my jacket and be warm or leaving the pack on so I didn’t have to put it back on again. I dropped my pack on the snow and got my jacket out (a wise call). The low evening sun bathed the landscape in an eerie light. The sky was still bright blue, but everything surrounding me was covered in shadow. In hindsight, arriving on the plateau so late without a pre-planned campsite was a bit of a faux-paux. As Craig appeared over the top of the glacier, there was an immediate urgency to get the tent set up and camp made for the evening. It meant that we would not be climbing any high points to enjoy a sunset this evening.

 

Our initial thoughts to camp above the crater lake were thwarted by the wind that had begun blowing through the glacier and out onto the lake, so we set off around the corner to see what we could find on the summit plateau. The weather forecast had been for rather strong north-easterly winds, reaching about 65km/hr in the wee hours of the morning. In hindsight, I should have paid more attention to this, but the evening was otherwise completely clear and absolutely stunning. With a degree of desperation, we searched out a campsight that would give our tent some shelter from the wind and found a mound of scree poking up out of the snow. At the time, it seemed less than ideal, but a better option than to still be walking around the plateau in the cold when it got dark. I got my snow shovel out and we dug a flat platform out of the ice. The snow had already begun to harden with the cool of the evening. Both Craig and I were becoming uncontrollably cold, especially our hands, which was a distinct problem when trying to pitch a tent whilst darkness was descending upon us. The wind was catching the tent as we tried to pitch it, forcing us to change our method of construction. I’d had the foresight to bring extra long tent pegs, but the ice was so hard that we struggled to get them into the ground, and when we did, they pulled out with relative ease. Craig carried boulders from the scree pile and placed them over the top of the pegs, then placed more boulders out from the tent to attach the guy ropes to. We were pretty sure it was a futile attempt to secure the position of the tent.

It was about this time that my mind wandered to other options. Could we sleep in the Dome Hut, about a hundred metre climb from where we were? Not really… Not in this wind, and certainly not in the dark. Heading back down the mountain wasn’t an option. We had to make the tent work for us. I found the level of commitment we had made our way into in a rather nonchlant manner quite startling. I felt a little out of my depth for the first time in a long time. It was liberating and rather frightening all at the one time.

Finally, with our tent pitched, we watched the final rays of light from 2013  disappear over the Kaimanawa ranges in a brilliant display of colours that split the horizon. We pulled everything out of our bags that we thought we would need and put it in the tent before stashing our bags in the vestibule. Having just put on every item on clothing I had in my pack, I sat in the entrance to the tent with the door open while Craig fired up the stove to boil some water for dinner. I was wearing an Icebreaker singlet, then an Icebreaker long sleeve baselayer, then another Icebreaker jersey on top of that, then my puffer vest and my jacket. I was toasty warm now, but keeping my extremities from freezing was always a challenge for me.

 

I didn’t really feel all that hungry but knew I needed to eat, so I cracked out a freeze-dried meal to feast on. By the time we finished eating, the wind had really started to blow and we settled into the tent, pretty sure that the only thing keeping it in place was the weight of our bodies. Craig is a big, tall, solidly built dude and I took comfort in the fact that he was lying on the side of the tent that face the prevailing winds, anchoring the bottom of the tent down… Something I’m sure my midget body would have done a very poor job of! We settled in for a celebratory wine and some dark chocolate covered ginger pieces. It would have been remiss of us to now haul some wine up there to celebrate the new year! The wine made me sleepy (and a little bit drunk), so I decided to lie down and set my alarm to wake me up just before midnight so we could see the new year in. The alarm really wasn’t necessary. As the wind picked up, it buffeted the tent, causing the tent to bend and bow over us as we lay down. It became obvious that sleep was going to be a rare commodity on the mountain that evening.

After watching the clock strike midnight, neither of us could sleep. The wind was getting stronger and we both lay silent in our sleeping bags. I had my sleeping bag closed over my head and had cocooned myself in to stay warm and every time I dozed off, I would be rudely awoken either by the tent sounding like it was about to take flight, or by the Dutch Oven kindly brought to me by Backcountry Teriyaki Beef freeze-dried meal. We both lay there silent as the wind picked up. It gave the tent an absolute battering. On a couple of occasions, the tent bowed over so far that it nearly lay flat on top of us and I thought the tent poles would almost certainly break. I was convinced the tent wouldn’t make it through to the next morning. I was running through in my head what could possibly go wrong and how we could react to that if it happened. I figured that if the tent poles snapped, we would just stay in the tent anyway until the morning. The one thing that was haunting me was the thought that if the wind got strong enough, could it possibly pick us up, tent and all, and blow us down the icy slope. It may sound stupid, but it was definitely in the back of my mind.

About 2am, the wind seemed to be at it’s fiercest. I stuck my head out of my sleeping bag and said to Craig “should I bring one of the PLBs into the tent with us?”… At least if something happened it would be attached to me and I could raise the alarm. We decided that was a good idea. Neither of us were getting any sleep, so we sat up and started talking. Sitting there talking with Craig instead of lying in silence listening to the tent buckle, bow and flap in the wind made me feel infinitely better. Inevitably, I needed to go to the toilet, and after much debate within my own head, I decided that instead of venturing out into the cold and wind, I would do my number ones in the vestibule of the tent and then put my shoe over it so noone stood in it. Craig was an absolute gentleman about it! Not long after, Craig decided to brave the elements to do his business. When he got back in the tent, I was expecting stories of near death experiences and clouded skies. Instead, he told me to look outside the tent door…

Despite the howling winds, the night was completely clear. Trillions of stars blanketed the night sky. There were no cities or bright lights nearby to interfere with the galaxies above us. I had never seen anything quite like it. I had imagined that for this trip, we would be sitting outside our tent drinking wine and cups of teas under a sky exactly like the one I was looking at right now. In hindsight, I wish I had gotten out of the tent and walked around… Checked out the views a little better. I think that the noise of the tent in the wind exacerbated our concerns… Like a dog that was all bark and no bite (not that I would recommend camping up there in those strength winds again in the future). I wonder if I had removed myself from the tent, if I would have realised that it wasn’t as bad as I thought.

So it was two in the morning and we were wide awake. I think by this stage we had resigned ourselves to the fact that there would be no sleep for the night. For Christmas, Lisa had given me this cute little dinosaur matchy card game thingy (I think it’s called “Memory”, but I don’t remember). I had popped it in my pack and hauled it up the mountain with me with the vision that we would be sitting outside on the snow, having a drink and playing a game or two, but I daresay good-ol’ T-Rex would have been flying off the mountain this evening had I attempted to lay the cards outside. It was a great way to occupy our time with the wind battering our tent outside. For starters, dinosaurs are all kinds of cool, secondly, it kept us well occupied and last, but certainly not least, it made me think of Lisa. I wondered what she was doing for her new years eve in Vietnam.

The game degraded to the point where we were both randomly just picking up two cards with little regard for what had been turned over before. Nothing stuck in our heads longer than a few seconds. My brain was tired, and I said to Craig “I don’t think I’ll get any sleep, but I want to lay down and rest”. He agreed and we retired back into our cocoons to listen to the wind continue to give the tent a battering. It didn’t let up all night, probably getting the strongest around 4am. I think eventually we both got so tired that the wind became irrelevant and we started dozing in and out of consciousness until my alarm went off at 5am. I understand it sounds silly to set an alarm when you are barely sleeping anyway, but there was no way I wanted to miss the sunrise on New Years Day.

 

The tent was still blowing around but we could see it was starting to get light outside. “Do you mind if I open the tent door?” I said to Craig. He wearily agreed as I reached over, unzipped the tent, and then the fly. The sight in front of my eyes was indescribable. “Oh my God, look!” I said to Craig. Unbeknown to us, the position we had so hastily pitched our tent the evening before just happened to sit in the perfect spot to see our tent door frame the sunrise. Dawn had just come upon us, and the sky was completely clear. The surrounding peaks were silhouetted against a colourful early morning light display which danced off the horizon. It was stunning. All of a sudden, a night of no sleep seemed one hundred percent worth it. I strapped my crampons on to my boots and ventured out of the tent. It was so cold that exposed parts of my skin became numb in a matter of minutes. The wind had died down, and as I ventured away from the flapping of the tent, I could feel that serenity that I have always craved on the mountain. That completely silent void… Like a vacuum. It was so quiet that I had to click my fingers to convince myself there was nothing wrong with my hearing.

 

I strolled across the summit plateau, my crampons crunched in the ice and my breath created shapes in the air. I felt this connection with the mountain that I’d never noticed before. She was beautiful in the early morning light. As the sun tried desperately to break its way above the horizon, the peaks to the west of the plateau were bordered by a dramatic pink and blue sky, the pink washing from the sky and spilling down the perfectly white surface of the ice, making it glisten. As I strolled back towards the tent, no sooner had I rounded the corner of the Cathedral rocks than the first rays of sun began to border the clouds.

 

I stood and watched as the first rays of light on New Years Day spilled across the landscape in front of me. There was a blanket of low cloud that sat below us surrounding the mountain and the sun danced across it to meet me and fill me with warmth. As it rose higher, the cloud dissipated, allowing us to look across at the Kaimanawa Ranges. It really was an absolutely stunning sight. We went for a walk around the corner to the crater lake. In the early morning light, shadows elongated themselves across the steaming surface, cutting the definitive shapes of the peaks around it into the surface in different shades of blue. It always amazes me just how different everything looks under the light of the new morning… How fresh everything seems. As we hiked up to the top of the Dome, we could see shadows dancing across the whole plateau. It was 6am, which meant that right now, Lisa was in a completely different part of the world celebrating the New Year. I laughed at the absurdity of how vastly different our evenings would have been. Her in the middle of a city surrounded by people, noise and happenings… And me on top of a mountain with one good mate, completely isolated from the rest of the world.

 

The original plan had been to stay on the mountain for two nights, and complete the twelve peaks on New Years Day, but after the definite lack of sleep the evening before, we decided to go for a bit of an explore and then make our way back down the mountain in search of bacon and eggs. The last time we visited Dome hut, it was completely iced over. This time it wasn’t, so we cracked open the door and had a look inside. There’s a reason they say this thing is only for emergency shelter. Most of the hut is locked off, and from what I understand, houses volcanic surveillance equipment. So there is a tiny space inside the door where you could maybe lie on the floor if you really had to. There was also a geocache hidden above the doorframe and a waterproof bible (pretty much, if you’re stuck in here for the night, you’re gonna need it!).

 

We made our way back towards the tent as the wind picked up again. We knew that packing up the tent in the wind was going to be a logistical nightmare, but it had to be done. Craig had the stove out and was melting some snow for a cuppa and I was looking at this tent, bowing and flapping about in the wind, wondering what we were going to do about it. I was super impressed that the tent had lasted the night in those winds. I really thought that a snapped pole or a rip in the fly was inevitable, but it was still standing there, flexing about under the force of the wind. Overnight, the tent pegs, which we hadn’t been able to secure the evening before, had frozen themselves into the ground, so they had, in fact, ended up being very good anchors. I figured that if we left the tent pegged in and removed the poles first, we could then unsecure the tent from the ground bit by bit and just shove it straight into my pack… I’d worry about drying and rolling it when I got home. Bags packed and water boiled, we sat down on the snow for a cup of tea and then hauled our packs onto our packs and started working our way back down the mountain. Asides from the wind, which seemed to have picked up again, it was a glorious morning, and I was kinda sad we weren’t staying up there a little longer. Our decision was confirmed a good one though, when a couple of hours after we arrived back at the car, we looked up at the mountain to see it encased in a dark cloud.

As we worked our way back down towards the Whakapapa ski field, we found pools of frozen water in between the rocks. Probably about 400m below the level we had camped at, we found several pools covered in ice that was about half an inch thick. My mind boggled at the thought of how cold it must have been up where we were if it was cold enough 400m lower to create ice that was half an inch thick overnight… My guess is that we spent the night in temperatures sitting around minus 10 degrees. The chairlift running up and down the mountain was a welcome sight for our weary legs with our big packs and as we took the “cheats” way down from the top of the skifield, you could tell that people were wondering what the hell we were doing coming OFF the mountain at that time of morning.

A bacon and egg breakfast was nowhere to be found in Whakapapa, so we had to settle for bacon and egg pie (bummer huh?!). As we drank coffee and hot chocolate and ate pie, we mused over our first alpine camping experience and how tough it must be for the guys that climb big mountains and have to sleep in those conditions day-in, day-out. I’m obviously nowhere near hardcore enough for that just yet!

When I look back at that night now, really everything was fine, but the lack of familiarity with the situation made me feel a bit out of my depth, and at the time, made it harder to relax into the experience somewhat. It was funny seeing the reaction that people had to our photos after we returned from the trip. The sheer beauty of what was captured, especially in the early morning during dawn and sunrise, was overwhelming. Craig and I had done a stellar job of hiding the complete terror we had felt at moments during the evening and the morning. There are some experiences you just can’t share in unless you are present in that moment. I can’t wait to head back up there again for my next summit camping trip with what I learned from this one… It really is just another world up there… And something that very few get to enjoy or experience. I feel so very privileged to have seen the New Year in under the watchful eye of the mountain… I have a feeling that this year is going to be a great one!

The Pinnacles - Goose Down Pillows, Bush Tucker and Gorgeous Sunrises

Well, where to start? I couldn’t figure out which retrospective adventure to write about first. I guess most people would say “start from the start, Megan”, but I never have been one to follow convention, so in keeping with that theme, I thought I would share with you some of my more recent adventures whilst they sit vividly in my mind.

 

 It was only a little over a week ago now that I joined up with two good mates, Sarah and Netty and a “friend to be”, Claire, in Thames to do an overnight hike to the Pinnacles in the Coromandel. Being the last day at work for most people meant that starting late in the afternoon on a Friday to avoid the Saturday crowds at the hut was very workable, and the fact that I had paid a surprise visit to Lisa in Auckland to see her off at the airport on her trip to Vietnam at midday on Friday fitted in perfectly with the plan.

After some faffing in the supermarket and then a rather robust discussion with my friends about how it is NOT OK to wear Crocs, we were on our way out to Kahurangi Forest park. I hadn’t really heard about the Pinnacles before (maybe because I don’t do a great deal of hiking) and I only made the decision to come along for the ride about two days beforehand, so I had no further expectations other than an enjoyable couple of days out with some mates, some quiet time and some good exercise. I have this saying that “if you want luxury, you have to carry it” and I decided on this trip, that in the interests of a good spot of training, I would carry lots of luxury to enjoy on our overnight stay in the hut. This included cider, fresh food, chocolate… And a goose down pillow.

It was a stunning afternoon. Blue skies accompanied a warm Summers day as we made our way up and along the track. The track consisted of hundreds of steps that had been hand-carved out of the bedrock by labourers years and years ago when the track was used as an accessway for a hydro project. The hike was warm, thirsty work, especially with 20kg pack on my back (but that goose down pillow sure was gonna make for comfy sleeping!). It took us about three hours to make our way to the “hut”, where we had booked beds for the night. It was about 6.30pm when we arrived and the plan was to drop our stuff off at the “hut” and then make our way to the summit before returning for a feed and some sleep.

Now you may notice that I have now put the word “hut” in inverted commas on three occasions now… Because it’s not really a hut… More like a lodge, or a backpackers, which sleeps 80 people and has a full kitchen, complete with pots and pans, cutlery and plates (you don’t even need to bring them yourself). Now, I was a little bit torn when I saw this hut from afar. On the one hand, I appreciate the sentiment behind making some of our most beautiful attractions easily accessible and comfortable for more people to see. On the flip side, this “mansion” for want of a better description, creates a scar on the beautiful landscape and, in my opinion, kind of defeats the purpose of getting out into the wilderness. My thoughts aside now, the hut was very nice and comfortable (but still didn’t sit right with me).

We dropped off our gear and headed up towards the summit, which incorporated 556 steps (yup, I counted them!), three ladders and a whole heap of rock scrambling, which I thoroughly enjoyed. As we made our way higher up the landscape, the track rose above the trees and on one side of us, we could see the Coromandel ranges… On the other, we could see the ocean stretching out as far as the eye could see to meet the bright blue horizon. The evening had cooled off from the scorching hot day and there wasn’t a breath of wind, although the mutated shapes of the trees suggested that wasn’t generally the case. We had been so lucky to score such a stellar evening.

At the top, perched on slanted rocks that had been carved by the elements, I had a 360 degree view of my surrounds. Words couldn’t describe just how stunning it was. It took my breath away. It was at this point that I announced to my companions that I would rise from bed at 5am the next morning to scale the steps and ladders again to watch the sunrise from this very spot. I knew if it was a clear morning, it would be stunning. They all politely declined my invite (unsure as to why…). We then made our way back down to the hut for a pretty grandiose feed, including some supplejack shoots that I had picked on our way there and boiled up to have with our meal (just like bush asparagus!)… I was surprised at just how good it was!

That night, I woke up at 3am and couldn’t get back to sleep. Probably partly because I was terrified my alarm would wake up the entire hut and partly also because I was so excited about my impending sunrise sojourn. I could see the stars in the night sky out the window and I knew that it was going to be a super clear morning, perfect for a beautiful sunrise over the sea.

I bounced out of bed at 5am, switching off my alarm before it barely even had the opportunity to go off, threw on my clothes which I had neatly laid out the night before to cause the least disturbance to my roomies, then sifted out the door into the cool morning air. It had been a while since I had immersed myself in an early morning experience like this and I realised at the moment how much I truly missed it. The moon was so bright it bathed the path to the top in a faint glow. I was full of energy as I bounded up the steps, stopping along the way to inhale the atmosphere around me and feast my eyes upon the array of colours that began seeping over the horizon with the dawn of the new day.

The sign at the bottom of the summit walk tells us it takes 50 minutes to get to the summit. I’m pretty sure I was up there in less than half an hour, and in plenty of time to watch the first rays of sun peek over the ocean on the horizon, caressing the landscape with a warm glow and lighting up the rock formations like someone had switched on a giant orange spotlight and pointed it in my direction. The silhouette of the rocks stood defiantly in the way of this stunning display, carving shapes in the morning sunlight and reflecting a brilliant red glow back onto my face. An inversion cloud rested amongst the valleys and began rising as the heat from the sun warmed the air. I would nearly go as far as to say it was one of the most beautiful sunrises I have ever seen.

I don’t know how long I sat up there, but I loved every minute of it. I loved being immersed in that experience, and in that environment. I remember wishing that Lisa was there to share it with. Clambering all over the rocks and watching the sunrise. As I descended towards the hut for breakfast, the cloud rolled in and closed the sky above me. When I arrived back, everyone was still asleep. I made some breakfast and a cuppa and read a book while people meandered into the kitchen in their half-awake state, remarking on how it was cloudy and they wouldn’t see anything on the summit that morning.

It blows me away that people miss opportunities like that. Everyone seems to think I am crazy for being up at 5am to greet the day… I would argue that if you are going to be out in the middle of this beautiful place anyway, why not make that small effort to see something that you may never witness again in your entire life? I doubt that I am the crazy one here (although I know many who would beg to differ).

We had a cruisy morning at the hut and then made our way back down towards the car, taking a longer route to return than we used to get to the hut the previous afternoon. The track on the way down was much different to the track we had climbed up. Not as well-worn, and it was obvious from the huge ruts and clay surface that the trail would be carnage in the rain. I spent a lot of time meandering along with Sarah. She’s one of my best buddies and we hadn’t seen each other in a while. It was lovely to catch up. We finished off the day with a dip in the waterhole (well, my legs took a dip… my body decided it wouldn’t subject itself to the cold on this occasion!)

 

What a gorgeous corner of the planet we reside in… And when you think you have seen the most amazing things, you are shown something to surpass it. Yet another reminder that to truly commit to the adventure in which you are partaking is where you will reap the finest rewards.

Excuses, Excuses!!!

OK, so I know what you’re thinking right now… “It’s been far too long since Megan entertained us with her witty brand of candid adventure story-telling”, and I feel your pain… I’ve missed it too.

It hasn’t been for lack of stories to tell… Actually, quite the opposite. In the last three months, I have climbed Mount Ruapehu one last time for the Winter, found myself a lovely young lady to share my adventures with (hi Lisa!!!), narrowly avoided been struck by lightning, raced a 24 hour solo world championship, participated in a Land Search and Rescue SAREX weekend, raced and won the Taniwha for the second year in a row, raced the Huka Challenge in Taupo, raced and won the Round Rangihoua 4 hour on Waiheke island, hosted numerous cycle tourists at my house, camped and rock climbed in Kawakawa Bay for a weekend and spent an inordinate amount of time playing in my backyard that is the Whaka forest. In fact, in the last week alone, I hiked to the Pinnacles, climbed Mount Tarawera and did a 3 day cycle tour around the Coromandel… Then to top it all off, I am spending new years eve camped out on the summit plateau of Mount Ruapehu…

Yep, it’s been full-on, but it’s pretty damn rude of me that I have kept these adventures to myself and not shared them with those of you who seem to live my crazy lifestyle in relative safety vicariously through my blog. There is no real excuse, but there has, in all honesty, being a genuine blockage in the way, and that is the processing of my experience at 24 hour solo world championships this year. I like to write with positive energy and foresight and after writing and rewriting about my experience numerous times, I still haven’t felt that I could do that yet… For some reason, I have come to the conclusion in my head that I simply can’t write about anything until I have written about world champs… Because world champs is THE most important thing. What absolute bullshit… So I guess I have taken the first step here in realising that there are, in fact, other way cool things going on in my life that it doesn’t need to be controlled by a single race.

The second part of that is that over the next few weeks, I’m going to bombard you with some musings on some amazing adventures accompanied by some even more amazing photos, which will hopefully then allow my brain some space to do the third…

Write about world champs… And you will, my dear friends, hear about that when I am damn well ready for it… In the meantime, enjoy the adventures you have in front of you!