Mount Taranaki from the Visitors' Centre. Less impressive than from a distance or when snow-covered. Nevertheless, it is awfully impressive.
Some three months or so ago, we saw a picture of the volcano, Mount Taranaki. Frankly, it was a sight of magnificence, particularly with the prominent snow-covered cone. When we discovered it could be climbed (hiked is too general and easy a term), we made plans immediately to position ourselves close by during our sojourn on lower North Island. As we were going to be in Tongariro, we would be about 5-hours distant. Because of the road system in New Zealand, this seemingly small country appears rather ‘large’ and getting around it takes time and effort. Unlike in Europe and parts of America where mountain passes and tunnels shorten distances, the roads we have used tend to go around the mountains. The mountains are rather large, hence…
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Sunrise from an altitude of about 5,000 feet. Looking toward Mount Ngauruhoe, the scene of our hike four days earlier. The Maoris have many folk tales and it appears Taranaki was banished from the three large mountains in Tongariro region.
As they say in Texas, 'how dem slopes'? Tasman Sea, farmlands, cities, forests and a dominant volcano.
The editor struggles on the mountain and wins. What a girl! In fact, on the day she was the oldest woman to succeed when another woman using poles turned back after reaching the mid-volcanic rock area.
A section of scree. Desolate, steep and unforgiving. The toughest scree we've ever negotiated down.
Love the definition between forest and farmland. This came about in the 19th century when the demarcation was made by circling the volcano.
The editor remains upright. The hut (see story) sits below, 2,000 feet from the commencement point and 3,300 feet
below the peak.
Crossing the cone on slippery ice as we head for the final ascent after descending a little into the cone.
Surrounded by boulders and rocks at about 7,900 feet, a little overwhelmed.
She did it. 'I knew she could do it and she did indeed.' There's nothing I would like better than for her Mom and Dad to have witnessed this feat.
It was never ending as we climbed part 5, the solid volcanic rock section. Levels off for a few yards.
Jenni at the top, stands before the slab that is viewed from many miles away.
The interplay of the clouds and mountain was stunning. Looking through the gap gives one some perspective of height, steepness and beauty.
We have so many more pictures that we'll add another blog of this spectacular experience later.
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At sunrise on the morning of the ascent, we were fortunate to witness with clarity, Mount Tongagiro, Ngauruhoe and Ruapehu in the distance, the place from whence we set off on Wednesday after completing the 'Northern Circuit’. Bear in mind, the weather is often poor in this region so the chance of being able to climb on a random day was not good. Someone quipped that when you can see Mount Taranaki it is about to rain and when you cannot, it is already raining and fog-covered. Following a period of poor weather at the volcano, we were fortunate to have probably ideal conditions. Nevertheless, the challenge of the climb in Jenni’s words: ‘It was the toughest with some of the meanest aspects that I’ve undertaken’. The areas of scree, at such acute gradients made it tough ascending and almost impossible descending. Put it this way: it was similar to walking on marbles but on slopes. At one stage, after taking a fall, one of numerous, I wondered how I would get down from this volcano. It is easy to form a love-hate relationship with it.
Briefly, the initial ascent is a 1,900 feet steep walk along a jeep track above the Visitors’ Centre to a communications tower and then a little further to a privately-managed hut. From there, one climbs a further 3,300 feet to reach an altitude of 8,261 feet, the peak. Effectively, the vertical gain is a mile. The stage from the hut, takes one over boulders and rocks and then a set of wooden steps. What a treat! Thereafter, one faces three sections of scree. The middle part is more difficult as there is little place to gain traction. The other parts are nearly as tough. After negotiating the dastardly sand-and-small-rocks surface, the track continues with scrambling and climbing on volcanic rock to a little below the top. This is a long section with what seems to be vertical climbs, at times. Watching Jenni, when I wasn't whining to myself, I thought I had married a cat. It was a pleasure to admire her agility as she moved up those rocks like a kid (as in goat). In the last few years, I've observed this latent talent of hers. In the meantime, we both are trying to find my talent, patent or latent.
Back to the rocks. Thereafter, one descends a little, crosses a snow-filled crater and climbs another rough outcrop to arrive at the peak. The snow is iced making it treacherous; the outcrop is very awkward, too. The return trip, because of the scree, is even more difficult. The slopes are acute. When looking either up or down, it’s staggering to think that one is not rolling down the mountain. The views are almost without equal. We were taken in by the forest that surrounds the mountain which in turn is surrounded by lush green farmland and the third ring being the Tasman Sea. The movement of thick clouds complements the natural beauty of the region further. Standing anywhere on that volcano gave us thrills, pain, at times a little apprehension, adrenaline flows, weary muscles and bruised behinds. The latter, of course, more because we were sitting involuntarily. Once in a while, as a booster, I would chant "Tara...Tara...Taranaki" to keep the momentum going. It really is one heck of an experience.
Twenty-four exciting hours. At times, we cannot believe what a stimulating period it was, like so many others. When we first saw the volcano on the way to the trailhead, it would be fair comment to say it was confronting. It stands high, proud and almost smiling at the silly humans who wish to do battle with this giant. Clearly, there is much to be said for the human spirit and the desire not to allow a mountain to get the better of one. Over a period, the mountain will always win but it’s those times when a person sweats, bears the pain, questions him- or herself as to sanity issues, struggles, slides, slips and even wants to cry out to the heavens for assistance that the true test arises. Should one be able to vault those hurdles, the feeling thereafter is one that cannot be matched. Just for the inner-peace, the feeling of accomplishment, not having surrendered to difficulty but all the time knowing that it is within the ambit of one’s ability to succeed, creates incredible feelings. Sometimes it's above one's reach but still, by pushing a little extra, one is able to stretch one’s potential and often succeed. Accomplishment provides comfort and tranquility and a little pride even if for a short duration...until the next test.
We tried something different for this adventure. We booked into the hut for the night so we did get a break for the more than 5,000 feet ascension. We left our lodge mid-afternoon, popped in for coffee at the Visitor’s Centre and made conversation with a few elderly women who were visiting the park. We were rebuffed by one who refused to help carry our backpacks even though we offered a buck an hour. The walk of near on 2,000 feet up the steep jeep path was terrific. Upon arriving at the hut, we were surprised. This privately managed accommodation is operated by the alpine club. It has reasonable bunks, flushing toilets and a shower, lights, a fully equipped kitchen, a lounge and dining room, a library and patio. In addition, there are radios and cassettes, the music adding to the atmosphere tucked away in the clouds with sound. By the way, of the huts we had visited thus far, the toilets didn’t flush and of course, the water was cold, showering was by way of a swim in a lake while all but one was without power. None provided lighting. In case we've led you believe our accommodation was palatial, it wasn't but relative to most others in the country, we enjoyed it very much.
A wonderful benefit was we stayed in the hut alone. Once again, I had the editor all to myself. We put on the music, thought about dancing, re-thought about it and took refreshments and commenced dinner, opening with a fresh salad, instead. Then the power failed. Pity! We made our way down to the tower and spoke to a technician who mentioned it was a general power failure. At least, we thought, we had not committed an error and caused problems. An hour later the music resumed, lights burned and thus we were back in business. Then the water dried up. Apparently, the pump failed. The water source is from rain.
Just when we thought we’d be on our own, a middle-aged woman, Lynn arrived. She was hiking to the hut and back, so we were still to be on our own for the night. She contacted management and tried to help with the water. Although it was never restored, we did find a gravity feed and so enjoyed some water although not in a formal flow. She was very kind and helpful—the kindness of strangers knows no bounds we find, on the mountains
A little later, Jen noticed two young women hobbling close to the cabin. We went out to render assistance to Aiya and Anna, a Japanese and German couple. Aiya had sprained her ankle. What a tough break in a terrible location. We were able to provide water and snacks for them to continue, the water thanks to Lyn. They refused our offer to share the cabin thinking they would make it, what for them could be another three hours of walking, to the carpark. Their pace was extremely slow because of the circumstances.
At midnight, I woke from a nightmare. I noticed the lights were on outside the lounge. Strange! We were on our own; how did the lights switch-on? Instead of staying in the bunks on the middle floor, Jen suggested we sleep on the couches in the much cozier lounge. Nice idea. She also said that when I needed to go ‘potty’, I should wake her. She woke a little after me and wanted to berate me for not waking her as I had obviously gone to the toilet—the lights being on and me being awake. At the basin, stood a man with full backpack who looked similar to Sam Hoffman, a friend from San Diego. Sam is well known and respected personality from that city. What was he doing there? We know he’s an avid hiker but we had no idea he was in New Zealand, too. The short story is that it was in fact Scotty. He and his partner had arrived by helicopter to rescue six people who were lost on the mountain. Wow!
We needed to visit the bathroom so we went downstairs and met Scotty's partner and the 'survivors'. They looked a little embarrassed but in reasonable health. The one guy took a look at us and mentioned that he remembered seeing us earlier. It’s not often I cannot remember a face; I did not recognize him. However, if he was correct, he should never have been climbing at that late hour of the day. The estimated average return time is 8-10 hours for a good hiker/climber.
Back to sleep for us with a very early awakening to enjoy the dawn, prepare for the ascent and relish, and at times, suffer a day that we shall never forget. It was a remarkable experience on an amazing volcano; the sights were matchless, the weather was almost perfect for the region. We asked a couple of locals, on the way down, if they could do something about the scree slopes for our next trip. They thought we were joking.
(Perhaps more at another time...)
Mount Taranaki in the late afternoon from 5,000 feet.
Cheers,
Jenni and Jeffrey
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