The light was already starting to go when we were still a long way from the hut.

Every time I turned around, the sky had changed — deep oranges fading into reds — and to the north, the first lights from Levin were starting to come on. We just kept moving. No real discussion about it. We’d get there when we got there.

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Back Into It

This trip wasn’t meant to be here.

We’d planned something completely different — Ivory Lake — but medical appointments and work shut that down. Then the South Island option fell over as well. What was left was a narrow window in the Tararua.

That felt right.

It was my first trip back since the rescue in December. I didn’t overthink it, but it was there. A bit of nervousness sitting underneath things. Not enough to stop me going, just enough to keep things honest.

Mary and I settled on a loop: Holdsworth, up onto the tops, north along the Ridge over Broken Axe Pinnacles, Three Kings, Girdlestone, Dundas, then down through the valleys — Roaring Stag, Cow Saddle, Mitre Flats — and back over Pinnacle Ridge.

A proper Tararua loop.

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Onto the Tops

We started early, climbing up through the bush as the sun came up.

It was one of those rare Tararua days where things just line up. Cool enough to move well, a bit of breeze on the tops, cloud drifting through but never really closing things in.

Once you’re up there, the rhythm settles in. Climb, flatten out, climb again.

We’d planned to push all the way through to Herepai that first day. Early on, it felt like it might be there if things went well.

But by the second half of the day, it was obvious.

Herepai was still a long way off, and getting there would mean a long push deep into the night. Maybe after midnight. A lot of that in the dark.

We thought about it.

But there wasn’t much upside. Just more fatigue, slower decisions, and more time exposed on the tops. Brendan’s experience between East and West Saddle — falling in the leatherwood and spending a cold night out before a helicopter lift — sat quietly in the back of my mind.

No big conversation. Just a shift.

Dundas became the goal.

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The Long Finish to Dundas

The last few hours were in the dark.

That stretch just keeps asking for a bit more. Tired legs, slower reactions, careful foot placement. Nothing dramatic, just steady fatigue building.

But it was one of those evenings that stays with you.

The light hanging on. The sky changing every time you looked. The quiet of being up there late.

We reached Dundas Hut after about fifteen hours on the move. Properly tired.

Inside, it was simple. Cooker on. Water boiling. A hot meal.

The pulled pork dehydrated meal was better than it had any right to be. Sitting there, warm, fed, with the day behind us — that was enough.

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Morning at Dundas

I woke early.

Stepped outside and the sky was already starting to shift. That soft pink coming in before the sun breaks the horizon.

Grabbed the camera.

Dundas sits in a good place for that. You feel like you’re part of it, not just looking at it.

No wind. Quiet.

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Off the Tops and Into the Valleys

We finished the ridge in the morning, heading out towards Herepai and then dropping into the bush.

That transition always feels abrupt. One minute you’ve got space and visibility, next you’re on a track and don’t have to watch every step.

From there, it was down to Roaring Stag and into the river.

I hadn’t done that section before. The river was low, which made for good travel. Moving steadily, crossing often, cooling off as we went.

We saw one person that day. That was it.

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Cow Saddle

We picked up the turnoff out of the river cleanly.

Further up, though, there was a moment where the creek opened out and we paused. For a second, it looked like we could scramble further up the stream and pick the track up higher.

We didn’t.

Better to get onto the track properly and stay on it.

Even then, we slipped.

Crossing a slip near a stream junction, we drifted off the line and ended up heading the wrong way for a bit. Nothing dramatic, but enough to lose time if you let it run.

Mary checked the GPS and called it.

We doubled back, found the line again, and carried on.

That’s the Tararua — you don’t get much for free.

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The Wasps

Somewhere near Mitre, it changed.

The track got rougher. Sections washed out. More climbing than expected as we worked around damage.

It was getting dark again.

Then the wasps.

No warning. Just suddenly there.

I got hit multiple times — back, legs, hand — trying to move clear while they were still coming. It took longer than I would’ve liked to get out of it.

By the time we stopped, I’d taken around ten stings. Mary pulled a couple off my shirt. My hand was already swelling.

Not serious. But not nothing either.

A rough way to finish the day.

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Mitre Flats

We made it to the hut.

I went straight to the river. Cold water helped take the edge off the stings.

Two long days, time to eat and sleep.

Two mice did their best to keep us awake.

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The Last Day

There was rain coming, so we started early.

The climb to Barton Saddle is honest work. It starts well enough, then turns into typical Tararua travel — rougher, slower, a bit more effort than you expect.

At the top, we chose Pinnacle Ridge.

I’d done parts of it before, but not the full line. It’s a good way out. Open in places, steady travel, and a clean finish to the trip.

By the time we dropped back to Holdsworth, it felt complete.

Not easy. Not smooth.

Just complete.

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After

We were back at the car around lunchtime.

Straight to Clearview Bakery. Something sweet. Something cold. Sitting still for a bit.

Two and a half days.

A lot of ground.

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Reflection

There’s always a bit of uncertainty going back after something hasn’t gone to plan.

This trip sorted that out.

Not because it was easy — it wasn’t — but because everything felt how it should.

The decisions. The small corrections. The effort.

Nothing given.

Everything earned.