Mt Hutt

In the spirit of getting some more vertical meters under my belt for the High Five-0 Vertical Challenge, I chose to run Mt Hutt, as it is the highest peak within a close-ish drive of home.

Starting from the Te Awa Awa reserve, I followed the Scotts Ridge track to the ski field access road.  The Scotts Ridge track zig-zagged up through rich green beech forest thick with the (slightly unsettling) sound of buzzing wasps.  Tree roots gripped the trail, providing a ladder of toe holds for a fast ascent.  Patches of swampy and boggy ground coated my shoes and legs in an early layer of mud.  It turns out that I am a prolific face-sweater, and I felt as though my face was raining as I labored upwards.

After climbing through bush for quite a while, the track climbed above the snow-line, and I was running towards the quickly closing cloud base.  The trail became littered with a sharp carpet of rocks, and wound over some land-slips, where the hill side had spewed its contents into the valley behind me.  The higher I climbed, the more my view was restricted by the drifting cloud, and mostly I was running in a little bubble of trail, rusty alpine foliage and grey, wafting cloud.  The wind was more of a breeze, and the air quite warm, so running was very comfortable.

It felt like I had only been running for a short while, when the trail met up with the ski field road.  I dropped on to the gravel and continued my run upwards.  The cloud had closed in so much at this point, that it took a little while to be sure that I was in fact still running up hill, and in the right direction.  The road gradient, although steady, was not too steep, so I was able to keep up a good pace.

I climbed and climbed, the cloud sometimes so thick, that I could barely even see my feet.  I had to keep a sharp ear out for vehicles, and all that passed were very courteous, often giving the thumbs up, or shouting encouragement.  My plan had been to run all the way to the peak, but because of the almost zero visibility, I thought that it would be prudent not to head out onto the ski field incase I got disorientated.

Just as I was beginning to wonder if I would ever find the road's end, I broke through the top of the cloud into brilliant sunshine.  The cloud-sea lapped at my feet, and around the next bluff, the sun-drenched peak of Mt Hutt revealed itself to me for the first time.  I wasn't far from the base area of the ski-field.  The road, cut right into the rock face, flattened out, providing a brief reprieve for the run to the deserted buildings and chair lifts.

Wandering through the deserted ski area which was almost completely bereft of snow was a little like visiting a ghost town.  The buildings were peeling under the harsh sunlight, their roofs dripping as the recent dusting of snow trickled back down the mountain.  I ran past the locked up ticket kiosk, and under the pylons of the Summit Six to re-fill my bladder  from the pristine ice-melt stream.

Keeping an eye on the cloud below me, I headed up one of the rocky ski runs.  Trails merged and diverged, and soon the base area and chair lifts were far below.  I was running always upwards, the gradient steeper than the road, the rocks under my shoes, rather sharp.  A final scramble up a loose gravel scree (two steps forward, one slither backwards) I emerged above nearly everything at the top of the field.  A short jog through some snow and I was right at the top surrounded by antennae and solar panels.   The view inland was amazing.  Gravel-capped ranges draped themselves towards the jagged, snow defined ranges.  The cloud behind me had only bumped against the first mountains, so I could see for miles in land, and deep down into the valleys below.  In the distance I could see Middle and Big Mt Peel floating in the cloud sea, and closer, the summit of Mt Somers.

There was a slight breeze, and intense sunshine.  I sat in the silence for ages drinking in the scenery.

Finally, as time was marching onward, I figured I should head back down.  I flew back down the trails, imagining that I was gliding down snow, rather than skidding on stone.  Back through the base-area buildings, the cloud was beginning to climb up into the field.  The cloud was less dense for the run back down the access road, but the ground, if anything, felt harder.  I could see stomach-churning steep drops disappearing down from the edges of the road.  As the cloud parted and drifted above me, I looked back, and up to see the access road winding back up the mountain.  It seemed impossibly high above me, and extremely reminiscent of the sort of road that leads, in fairy tales, to the haunted castle.

My quads were beginning to complain at the relentless down, and I was glad of the brief climb that led me back to the Scott's Ridge trail.  I was below the cloud base now, and had my first views out over the plains.  Back in the bush, and back to descending, I ran down and down.  The tree roots and swampy ground providing my tired legs with more of a challenge on the descent than they had found them on the climb.  Eventually the trail flattened out (mercifully), and I had a really good stretch before driving home to mow the lawns as a warm down.

This was a fantastic run, and a great opportunity to get some vertical meters under my belt, as well as some good miles into my legs.

Vertical Ascent To Date: 2857m

Running on the Scott's Ridge track

Beech Forest

Mule Fuel!

Into the cloud

Rocky

Inscription

Limited Visibility on the way up

Breaking through

Finally above the cloud

Running up the access road

Cloud sea - Mt Somers and the Peels in the distance

Deserted base area

Snow!

View towards the alps

Nearly at the top

Ridge running

View from Summit Six chair

Mt Hutt trail map - good for navigating fast descent

Back under the clouds

Musings and New Year Cheer

I have had a fantastic holiday running and walking in the Tongariro National Park, hanging out with family and friends in Akaroa, and exploring Taupo.

I enjoyed some really great trails on the mountains behind Akaroa.  The tracks here were delightfully steep and just a little bit technical, with beautiful views out over Akaroa Harbour.  It rained a lot of the time I was on Banks Peninsular, and it was nice to get stuck into some hills with the cool drizzle falling all around.  I also enjoyed a boxing day run around the bays taking in the lighthouse and the other runners who were (probably like me) enjoying the extra energy that a sumptuous Christmas feast had created.  I felt as though my steps were extra springy that morning.

In Picton I enjoyed a dawn run along the Snout.  I raced through the green bush, the black water of the sounds sparkling up at me through the foliage, and the sun sending shards down through the branches, picking out the path in dappled gold.  At the tip of the Snout, I tumbled out on to the rocks, immediately drenched in sunlight, and suddenly surrounded by the dark water and velvety peninsula's of Queen Charlotte Sound.  There probably aren't many places more glorious to start your day.

In the North Island we were blessed with excellent (although at times, rather windy) weather to enjoy the Tongariro Northern Circuit.  It was fantastic to trek through the bizarre and beautiful moonscape of the volcanic plateau.  It is easy to forget that planet's seething molten interior, but forced close to the surface (or through it as the case maybe), I am reminded how fragile the crust, and how volatile the core.  The first leg of the trek involved a high-speed tramp into the first hut through a rapidly darkening and rainy evening.  Leaving later than we had planned, meant we were in danger of negotiating the pitted and washed out first section of the trail by head-torch.  Thankfully we reached the hut before we were plunged into true darkness, and the rain gave way brilliant skies and scudding clouds for the alpine crossing.

The Tongariro Crossing teemed with day walkers, an endless snake of colorful (and sometimes worryingly ill-equipped) hikers wound their way as far as the eye could see in both directions along the trail.  The climb up to the pass was satisfyingly steep (hill work making me feel more smug because of the 18kg on my back), hundreds of steeps carrying my feet over vast pyroclastic flows of sooty coloured rock.  At the saddle the track narrowed to a gut-liquefying trail, which dropped away steeply on both sides, the precariousness of which was amplified by the gusting wind which threatened to snatch me off the mountain at any time.  At the summit, and feeling suitably amongst the clouds to call myself a mountaineer, the trail disintegrated into a sand dune, requiring all us trampers to wade-stumble-plunge down the sheer descent.

Circumnavigating the almost luminescent, and rather turquoise, Emerald Lakes, we descended away from the day-walking masses and into a jagged boulder-field.  The bruised rocks of this mars-scape towered in impressive sculptural magnificence.  We marveled at the multitude of geological processes that had created this diverse landscape.  That evening, I went out for a dusk run through the boulders and dunes.  I felt gloriously weightless without the pressing weight of my pack.  I scrambled down a cliff face, and over several dunes to the edge of the probably-in-the-last-night-of-evening enchanted beech forest.  The sun was setting behind Ruapehu, drenching the mountains in gold.  As I ran back towards the hut, I looked back over my shoulder to watch the sun set.  The last rays of the sun were setting the clouds on fire, turning them into blazing dragons racing down the rift between the volcanoes.  Back at the hut, the dragons, now grey crouched in the valley.  The sun was gone.

The next day, due to my poor sister accidentally detaching her toe-nail, I raced ahead to drop off my pack so that I could double back and carry her pack if the pain got too unbearable.  The wind, back to its ferocious full-force, drove sand into my legs, and then me down the dunes, speeding me along to the final hut.  I covered the distance, pack and all, in about half the prescribed time, which was satisfying and disheartening, as I would usually aim to keep that sort of pace if I was running...time to pick up my running pace maybe?  Laura was much too tenacious to need any assistance and bravely made her way (with enormous smile) to the next hut unaided.  The final hut was cathedral-like, with copious and luxuriant space, a log fire, and enormous picture windows framing views of Ruapehu and Ngarahoe.  That evening, a wild storm lashed the plateau, hurling rain and wind relentlessly into the windows.

The final day dawned bright and clear.  The storm seemed to have cleansed the atmosphere, affording the very best views of the peaks.  A cracking pace was set by Laura, and we strode through a constantly evolving landscape of alpine plants, volcanic monoliths, sandy valleys, craters and lakes.  This final section I remembered vividly from the Tussock Traverse that I ran just under a year ago.  Climbing over several ridges, the views of Chateaux Tongariro were revealed, and a short while later we passed the Taranaki Falls, before wandering through the last few kilometers of forest to be reunited with our car.

We stayed in Taupo after the tramp, and visited Rotorua (smelling fragrantly of sulfur, and making us crave egg sandwiches).  I particularly enjoyed learning about the falconry and conservation work that is done at Wingspan, a charitable trust dedicated to protecting and rehabilitating NZ native birds of prey, in particular the cripplingly endangered NZ Native Falcon - Karearea.

I had a fabulous early morning run around Lake Taupo (although I should point out, I didn't run right around Lake Taupo; I want to one day).  The wind was tearing across the lake, spraying waves up over the path, and providing a delicious contrast to the already-too-warm-at-6:30am-sun.  I saw heaps of other runners bounding along, its always so nice to share an exercise induced smile/grimace with other runners.  Along some sections of the lake shore, steam rose up into the morning, and there were various signs warning that the water would be hot, thanks to the thin crust in this region.  There was the faint smell of egg sandwiches again.  Now I wanted eggs for breakfast. I also saw a sliver-muzzled greyhound have a break down, and having to be carried home by its owner (an ex-racer, that was having trouble adjusting to its new life).  I retraced my steps for the return run, and finished my morning jaunt with a lung-bleeding up hill surge back to our accommodation.  Dad had awesomely gone out to get me eggs for breakfast. YUS!

On the way back to the South Island, we stopped in Palmy to return my sister home.  I went for a fantastically nostalgic run through the Massey trails, enjoying the familiar territory where all of my trail running adventure began.

I decided that over Christmas I would make a decision re the Cabrakan conundrum.  I went out for another run in them, and after feeling searing pain throughout my run, and upon removing the shoes, feeling as though my feet were crushed, I knew that I had to return these shoes and try something else.  I was given the Asics Trubaco trail shoe to try.  Although I liked the tread pattern, and cushioned-yet-flexible sole, various parts of the upper bit into my feet, leaving my with bleeding sores after only a short period of use.  I also felt a bit less stability than I like as the heel of the shoe is over twice the height of the sole.  Later further alarm bells sounded when I read that this shoe was a road shoe that had been converted for the trail.  Not really what I am after.  So after all of this, I have decided to do what I should probably have done from the start, and go with the Mizuno Wave Ascend 8.  Although these shoes felt a little different than the 7's, I am know that I will get used to them, and a little difference has to be better than crushing, bleeding shoe-agony.

So, as for 2014, I hope to run further and possibly a little faster than before.  There are some exciting races coming up in the next few months.  I have signed up for the High Five-0 Vertical Challenge which involes:

Each Quarter during 2014 Mal will set a goal for the total vertical ascent that he hopes to achieve in that period: 

Q1 (Jan - Mar): 50,000m 
Q2 (Apr - Jun): 55,000m 
Q3 (Jul - Sep): 60,000m 
Q4 (Oct - Dec): 65,000m 

YOUR CHALLENGE is to MATCH OR BETTER Mal's quarterly vertical ascent totals. 

SUCCEED and you'll win a prize - in Q1 this is a High Five-0 running cap. There will be more great prizes provided by sponsors in the following Quarters.  FALL SHORT and you'll be asked to pledge NZ$1 for each 1,000m of ascent that you are shy of Mal's total. Every cent of this money will be donated to the MENTAL HEALTH FOUNDATION OF NEW ZEALAND, the charity that Mal will be running himself ragged for from Jan 31st to March 21st 2015.

I think that this is an excellent way of increasing my fitness and training, and is going to involve some serious mountain running to combat the lack of vertical meters on the Canterbury plains.  It is such an awesome cause, and a fab excuse to get into the mountains (like I need one!).  I will post my running total of vertical ascent at the end of each post.


Over the holidays I read Rosie Swale-Pope's book Just A little Run Around The World which is beautifully written and uber inspirational - if you love running, intrepid spirits, beautiful writing, adventure travel, being inspired, humbled, the goodness of the human spirit, or living life to the full, go and read it. Now.

So that just about sums up my musings for the beginning of 2014.  I think it is going to be an excellent year for running.  I have my first race, an ultra mountain marathon (what better way to kick off the running year), in a couple of weeks.  And in the spirit of getting stuck in to the vertical meters, I am planning a mountain run tomorrow, so I should probably go to bed!  Here is to 2014, and my new running mantra: LEFT. RIGHT. REPEAT. LOVE IT.

Vertical Ascent - 1296m