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The Curse of Mid King Bivvy

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Date: 3rd - 7th March 2016

Location: Tararua Ranges

Trip Leaders: Fran Osten and Carl Barnhill

Third Wheel: Katie Milligen


Day 1:

On Friday the 3rd of March we set off at 5pm into the thick of Easter Weekend traffic. After 4 hours battling traffic we made the 100km journey to Huntly. Such would set the tone of this trip, cursed: the curse of Mid King Bivvy.

Some tramps set out with a purpose; a mission. This was one of those tramps -  our mission: to bag Mid King Bivvy, a destitute and merciless place perched just below the mighty Three Kings in the Tararua ranges. Well off-track and only frequented by the occasional hunter brave (or perhaps foolish) enough to make the difficult slog off-track to the bivvy. This bivvy would be the last official hut in the Tararuas for Fran to bag, thus ending a 14-year triumph.

After our KFC stop-off was cut short by a leaky roof, we hit the road again and drove until 2am to Simpsons Domain Campsite just out of Hunterville. However, this was not before being held up again at 1am for the queue at a BP station whose location will remain nameless.

Once we arrived we quickly pitched our tent and all fell asleep to the sounds of passing trains.

Day 2:

After a few hours of sleep, we were woken by the Simpsons Domain Rooster, who chased Fran around the campsite while Katie and I packed away the tent.

From there we made our way to the mighty Tararuas. Packing up at The Pines, we tramped through a private farm and along the Waingawa River - one of the most hated tracks in the Tararuas. Upon arriving at Mitre Flats Hut, we snagged the last of 14 beds. The 12 weary trampers from another party who arrived later where not so lucky. They were okay really though, having carried chilly bins full of beer and ice up the river for 5hrs. They had their priorities straight.

Day 3:

After waking up 3 hours later than originally planned we set off for the cursed Mid King Bivvy. The bush was thick as anything and there was no track in sight. I faired okay for the first wee while and kept reiterating to the team my motto “Think like a goat”. The thick bush was on a steep angle, beside a ravine over the raging South Mitre Stream. Not long after this I fell, taking several native trees with me in exchange for my first hiking pole.

After an hour we had made it 600m; I had lost one of my poles; Fran had fallen into a swamp with mud past her waist and had required rescue (I laughed for the first 10 minutes before helping her out). Meanwhile Katie had fallen and hit her head on a rock. Something was definitely trying to stop us from getting to Mid King Bivvy.                      

We found a series of cairns and the occasional pink tape as we ventured further into the bush up to the Bivvy; along a ridgeline into the unknown. Eventually after a few hours of slogging it out we made towards the tops and to Mid King Bivvy. There we rejoiced and broke out our celebratory packet of Tim Tams, before setting off with tea for an early night. Tomorrow was going to be a big day- we were heading up to Mitre; the highest point in the Tararuas! Once heading off to bed we were woken at 9pm by weary trampers who had spoiled our solitude. Luckily they had a tent with them and were able to find a spot to camp.



Day 4 & 5:

The next day we set off to the tops, crawling up an exposed rocky spur and being thrown around in the gale force winds. Fran was the voice of reason and turned the team around (after this she wallowed in self-pity for a couple hours). We bashed back down to Mitre Flats hut again, going through the same punishing routine as yesterday.  After reaching the bottom of the ridgeline I accidentally tried to convince the others to walk off a cliff.


Next up was crossing Baldy Creek. It was at this point Fran managed to slip, completely drenching herself and spraining her ankle. It was as if we had come up against the curse head on, but we stared it down and kept going anyway. After crossing the creek, we tried to make it back to South Mitre stream. The thick bush seemed to be winning. Fran attempted to make us climb up the side of the cliff but I wasn’t having any of it. Once arriving back at Mitre Flats hut we decided to keep going and tramp out that day. After about 3 hours at the hut and 4 packets of Easter eggs later we decided head off, the lure of beer and hot springs being too strong to stay another night.


We ventured out along Waingawa River again, until Fran heard cries from Carl. “Why me, Why me?? Why?!!!!!!!!!” Coming around the bend Carl held his pole. Bent. The Tararuas had claimed both of Carl’s poles, showing no mercy. Shortly after this Fran was stung by bees. Seemingly the curse was not lifted.


Once at the road end we camped the night at The Pines (of course after consuming a pizza each and McDonalds for dessert).


The next day we stopped at Miranda hot pools to loosen up our stiff muscles, basking in the glory of conquering Mid King Bivvy.


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