OVER THE RAINBOW

Paske-Begley Huts Loop, Rainbow Conservation Area

Many members are familiar with the windswept Rainbow Valley, and the smattering of small huts in the connecting valleys. It was more than a decade since I bagged Begley Hut with Dion Pont, but at least I’d had a brief introduction to this vast valley.

Fine weather was forecast. A trip itinerary was posted. A key was obtained. A toll was paid. Two drivers volunteered. Some 15 folks registered. About 6 withdrew. I began to bemoan the logistics of long weekend tramps.
And then, everything merged together like a zip.

 Day 1: Rainbow Valley – Paske Hut (18km, 5.5 hrs)

David and Graeme drove us in twin Subaru wagons from Richmond to the Rainbow. We collected the key from the red letterbox at the station’s woolshed, then proceeded to the toll gate to pay $60 for each vehicle passing through Rainbow Station. (This fee helps maintain the road through the Molesworth.)

Before you could say ‘Wairau Hanmer Springs Hydro Road,’ we arrived at the car park under a line of power pylons marching across the desert-like landscape. My new gaitors were baptised in the first of many wet-boot crossings. Over the Rainbow, we located the 4WD track on the true right, which meandered for hours up-valley, skirting a minefield of matagouri and cowpats.

Pete’s navigational nose led us to the true left, where the cattle track climbed high to avoid a spectacular gorge. Phones came out. Photos were snapped of the imposing Belvedere Peak crowned with fresh snow.

Next, our troupe descended a muddy staircase of bog and cow dung to grassy river banks. Here, in the upper reaches of the Rainbow, we gazed at summits nudging over 2000 metres high, and perambulated along large open expanses of sub-alpine grassland.

After another thigh-deep crossing, Pete and I led uphill to locate a prominent orange triangle. Above this, we threaded through the matagouri onto a tussocky hillside. Calf muscles were complaining by the time we spotted the old SF70 squatting above Paske Creek.

Nine bodies wouldn’t fit into six bunks, so Jane, Michele and Pete kindly pitched tents. Wood was cut. A fire was lit in the open hearth. Dinner was eaten. We discovered that Paske Hut had a few inherent design faults. For example, without ladders, our president could not reach the top bunks.

While seated around the bush telly, David asked us to reflect on what ANZAC Day meant to each individual. Astrid had a refreshing viewpoint on the futility of war. Before 9pm we hit the pit to avoid the eye-watering smoke that had filled the hut.

Day 2: Paske Hut – Begley Hut (13km, 4.5 hrs)

Sunday dawned fine, and we were eating breakfast when John O’Regan popped in the hut door. His head-torch and Intentions Book entry validated his claim to have departed Begley Hut at 4:30am. Like a ghost, he disappeared down the hill.

We followed the trail runner, albeit at a more leisurely pace, and lunched on a sunny river terrace. Billies were boiled. Sandflies were killed. On a scouting mission, Graeme and Pete found the marked route which we followed for a couple of hours, climbing through delightful beech forest on a relatively gentle gradient, the path lined with luxuriant moss.

As we hopped around the boggy bits, Era was delighted to forage for mushrooms to add to her evening meal. Era was less delighted when she lost her left sock.

Honking noisily at our intrusion, a pair of large Canada Geese welcomed us to Begley Hut, population zero. This tidy hut sits on a high terrace, hidden by a copse of towering trees that provided a ready supply of firewood.

Jane volunteered to camp again, leaving eight smelly trampers to be shoe-horned into eight bunks. It was hilarious to witness David attempting to access his top bunk. Laughter erupted when his body was immovably wedged against the hut ceiling.

Day 3A: Begley Hut – Rainbow Valley (18km, 6 hrs)

Astrid’s alarm woke us at 6am sharp. Sleep-deprived souls staggered outside for a pee in the pre-dawn murk. By sunrise, the five youngest members of the party departed on an adventure upstream. (See Pete’s report below).

After a tea-drinking session and hut-cleaning routine, the oldies eventually packed up and headed back down-river on a search-and-rescue operation. Soon after leaving the hut, there it was, in all its turquoise glory … Era’s lost sock!

Reversing the previous day’s route, our slower quartet returned to the Rainbow, criss-crossing the river at will, taking in the immensity and vastness of the landscape. A small herd of cattle were seen.

At the gorge viewpoint we sunbathed, entertained by a tomtit, robin and bellbird. On the river flats we frightened a few hares. A flock of geese flew overhead. Paradise ducks quacked. Despite the brisk head-wind, we clocked up a pleasing 4kph to reach the pylon parking spot.

It was well after 4pm when we boiled the billy at the Hamilton River trackhead. I was growing anxious as to the whereabouts of my fitter companions, when a familiar face emerged from the dark forest. It was Godzone Jane, leading the way after a nine-hour epic. Our two teams were reunited. Era was reunited with her lost sock.

Day 3B: Begley Hut – Hamilton River – Rainbow Valley (14km, 9 hrs)

Peter recalls leading the advanced party down the Hamilton River:

“Up in the dark, disturbing the others in the hut, we were away by 7:20am to allow time for ‘unforeseen circumstances.’ Ray had not slept well and decided not to take on the Hamilton River route. So, he appointed Jane as navigator and Peter as trip leader, (but really it was a team effort). And so five of us made our way up the Begley Creek on a marked route.

It was one of those bluebird days. We left Begley Creek a few hundred metres before the 30m waterfall. Climbing up a natural spur, we made fast progress up a grassy ramp through long tussock and Spaniards. We did get some respite on a few rocky slopes that were relatively stable. Just before reaching the pass, we saw four flying kea making their usual kea noises. They landed at Point 1726 and from then on, kept quiet and out of sight.

Arriving at the pass (1691m) at 10:40am we had a break with good views down the Hamilton River. Jane fired up her cooker. Astrid rehydrated some food.

Descent from the pass was relatively straight forward, making our way down the gut, avoiding blood-letting Spaniards where we could. We were aiming for the confluence and picked up a patch of mature beech forest, making for easy travel before popping out to the dry river bed. We continued down the river bed for 20 minutes before stopping for lunch at 12:30pm.

Eventually we arrived at the 150-metre-wide, open valley that had many large slips and gravel chutes on the sides, giving no real options to travel above the river bed. We mused what this place would be like in significant rainfall – rather scary.

After some 2.5 hours of hard rock travel, we finally saw a large orange triangle, at 3pm – the beginning of the marked forest trail to the road end. After negotiating a challenging treefall, we reached the vehicles at 4:45pm, just missing out on a cup of tea from the older party.”

I have fond memories of our weekend excursion. We had slept in two vacant huts, and traced three rivers to their source. We had travelled more than 57km on varied terrain. Nine diverse personalities had joined together to enjoy a memorable three days.

Rainbow Warriors were:  Graeme, David & Beth, Astrid, Era, Michele, Peter & Ray (scribes) with visitor Jane.