A trip that ended in war..

Taupo Times, Volume 23, Issue 58, 23 July 1974, Page 7

A trip that ended in war..

The Tauponui-a-Tia College tramping club spent the mid-term break long weekend exploring the Coromandel Ranges. After a first night of tent pole letting downs [by the younger members], a moonlit walk and musing on murder, Tony Aflen takes up the tale.

I eased into sleep. And under considerable pressure from the rest of the club to get up — three hours later — I made breakfast. This consisted of muesili with cold milo poured on top. It brought forth such comments as "What's that?" "Do you look at it when you eat it?" Apparently, it resembled many things which I had never eaten before. About an hour later 37 of us were on the road to the beginning of the track which leads up the Kauaeranga River. The party included two teachers, Mr P. Gould and Mr N. Vanner. We strolled along until a river, scrub and some bush made life a little more interesting. The Kauaeranga Valley is in the Coromandel Forest Park and having once supported dense, kauri forest is rich in history, with old wooden dams and trestles, most of which, because of decay, are dangerous. Our destination was the Pinnacles Hut, a 20-bunk Forest Service building with a woocj range and rubber mattresses. A minute away was a dam still in quite good condition and much more picturesque than I had expected. After four or five hours walk through some steep country we arrived at the hut to find two parties there — one of 10 and one of six. When they saw our party, some 40 strong, infiltrating the wilderness, they nearly dropped on the spot. Not surprisingly both parties left early on the Sunday morning. The walk to the hut,

while through some impressive scenery of rocky bluffs and deep gorges, had not been too difficult. It had been with this in mind that we'd taken such a large party. Double bunking was the norm that night and at dinner the "kitchen" was a hive of clatter — billies, plates, knives, spoons and mugs, baked beans, eggs and stew. AI1 the familiar sounds and smells but with different people and different stomachs. Each trip is a new experience. The Pinnacles Hut has two bunkrooms with the kitchen in between. The lock on our bunkroom door was to provide us with much amusement. Mr Vanner, who had left the room, was locked out. He banged on the door, hollered and threatened to blow the hut down. We started to sympathise with him and were about to open the door when fellow teacher, Mr Gould, said we should make him suffer. So what could we do. We couldn't disobey Mr Gould. He was in charge. On Sunday morning the weather was still fair so we split into two parties. A small one to tramp towards Coroglen and a large one to ascend the 2605 foot Pinnacles. The party which supposedly tramped to Coroglen was a lazy bunch (this opinion has nothing to do with me being in the rival Pinnacles' party) and we suspect the members only tramped for an hour to the Kauaeranga Dam. When each member has a different story, Mr Gould, sir, one does begin to suspect. The truth came out when I pulled a dirty, telling Mr Gould that members of his party had confessed to not going to Coroglen, whereupon he cursed the confessors.

Of course there were no confessors. To get to the Pinnacles we sloshed through six inches of mud and splattered our way through puddles and bogs. The Pinnacles, very sharp, tall and rocky cliffs, made good scrambling and permitted fine views across the range to Table Mountain and out to the Pacific. The most eventful time of our extended weekend 1 was Sunday night. To save time, six of us were preparing dinner for the rest of the party. We figured an organised disorganisation was better than a disorganised organisation. It was then that my brain brewed and my hands acted. We had a dog, Zola, with us. And like many dogs, she ate dog food. Canned dog food, containing all sorts of goodies like magnesium and sulphur. Somehow, and I have no idea how, the dog's tucker found its way into one of the cooking dishes. Only a small elite group knew what was going on. But it couldn't remain a secret for long and eventually Mr Gould found out. By this time one of the billies was ready to be served up. There was one on the table and one on the stove. To avoid the dog food Mr Gould asked me which one it was in. I told him the truth, on the stove. He didn't believe me and thought I was trying to trick him. He believed it to be in the billy on the table so he took his helping from the stove. I was just about bursting inside but realised the joke was too good to let slip by. Mr Gould ate the dog food. While he did so we allowed the younger members of the party inside where they were soon devouring their meal, none of which contained any dog food.

Mr Gould also could contain himself no longer and told the youngsters they were eating dog food — and burst into laughter. Everybody laughed, except the young ones. The joke was too good to keep to ourselves so we told him the truth, whereupon he disposed of the remaining meal. Mr Gould sought revenge. He left the room, returned and threw an egg in my direction. I ducked and it landed in the corner of the kitchen. He came back again. Again I ducked but the yolk and slime slithered from my shoulder to my waist. This was war. I hastily filled a billy of water and dashed outside. But Mr Gould had bailed himself up inside a bunkroom. There was not much I could do so I danced around the hut throwing water at the windows. While it seems futile now it was fun at the time. What I really needed was an egg but no-one would lend me one. Later, the battle broadened to include secret Gouldists, lots more water, instant potato, the odd spot of stew — and no decisive victory. Monday morning was overcast and the clouds hung heavily. Light rain fell. We cleaned up the hut, leaving it in a better state than we had found it, and headed out along the goat track home. It had been mid-term break, one which would not have been possible without the services of Jacqui Leyden's father, who provided free bus driving services, and all the students who filled the bus to make the trip economically possible.