Mātakitaki calling
With my heart handbrake lifted, I was raring to get back in the hills.
At first, I considered Abel Tasman National Park for a spin around the park, but for some reason, I switched to a familiar place: Mātakitaki. Both are reasonably flat, and I needed an easy introduction back to pack carrying.
I’ve been an enthusiast for Nelson College’s Outdoor Education Centre, known back when I was at school as Mataki Lodge.
Students were required to go up there for a week each year for our last three years of school, in midwinter. The schedule had us spend Monday night at the lodge, then spend two nights out somewhere. A few huts were of various degrees of energy expenditure away. If boys were less enthusiastic for marching, they could carry tents and stay closer to base. I was not in that camp. I wanted more of a physical challenge and usually found a few people to head off somewhere more demanding.
I’d already had weekend/Easter Little Adventures in the Richmond Range behind Nelson, mostly to the old dirt-floor Rocks Hut or Roebuck Hut. After I went on a Mataki leaders course in my final year, I could go on additional weeks with other classes. I didn’t feel challenged by my schoolwork, so I made myself available and was the go-to guy who could reliably make up numbers of leaders at short notice on a Monday morning. In my last year, that totalled six trips: the leaders course, my own class, and four others.
The system was for the leader to suggest a place to go, and for students to choose whether to join. Some friends would group together and go, regardless of the effort, just to hang out. I never had trouble finding the four others I needed, having negotiated with thoughtful, reliable introverts like myself before getting up and announcing where I intended we would go. We were happy to get away from the louder show-offs. Final year destinations included Tiramea Hut, D’Urville Hut, Nardoo Hut, and Burn Creek Hut, which really tested our capabilities.
It was always in the middle term, ie, winter and the weather was not always benign. To get to Nardoo, we had to start by crossing the thigh-deep Mātakitaki River, already in 300 mm of snow. Then about 25 crossings through Nardoo Creek before the 600 m climb to the 2 bunk hut above the bushline. Snow was piled against the door, and it was a battle to get in, just on pitch darkness. We learned that kerosene was a poor heat source for cooking, with its greasy, smelly smoke. I slept on the wet floor amongst five packs. Burn Creek was a major day, but although it was a long distance, the Forest Service kept the track well maintained, and we got there from Matakitaki Base Hut just on pitch blackness.
So, I explored the Mātakitaki Valley reasonably well during my time at school. Subsequently, I’ve returned a number of times, and it’s a favourite place in my heart. Time to return.