Kowai River – the alternate tale of a cancelled tramp

The club was booked for 39 members to walk to Kowai River. The weather was not co-operative for this week (again…) and thus at 0645hrs, this member looked at the cancellation message and went back to sleep.

It was thus with a great surprise that it was 0915hrs when the member again awoke. This is definitely an irregular occurrence, but can be handled with a degree of nonchalance. Followed by a leisurely breakfast and diligent reading of The Press.

So what to do, instead of walking along a 4WD track with the alternates along the true right of the Kowai River (true right being the right bank when facing downstream)? Of very great interest was the return of the astronauts from the International Space Station, two of whom had been stranded in space for nine months. It was breath taking to accompany from afar and watch the drogue parachute deploy and read that Donald and Elon had (apparently) been instrumental in this safe return (?!?). The AI display didn’t quite match the commentary, which was distracting as there was some simultaneous muffin making going on.

But there they were, there they had been, and now they’re back on Earth. I had a lingering curiosity as to what exercise had been done in space, and how they managed to retain a degree of sanity from having been confined for so long. My days out in the hills with a wide variety of companions and conversation are far preferable to being so restricted, though I’m a bit too old for space travel.

Anyway, I was going to be trip writer today and regale a tale or two of the walk to the John Hayward Hut. Instead, I shall leave you with an historic tale of this area, as allowed by the duties of trip writer.

In August 1976 a foursome set out along the Kowai River to do a winter climb of Mt Torlesse. There was a strong nor’west and from the city, the mountains looked inky black. As the weather began to close in, the two women in the party retreated. The menfolk carried on, as menfolk are wont to do, with no discussion or yielding to inclement conditions. The womenfolk waited at the little red roadman’s hut at the bottom of Porters Pass. They waited and they waited, and eventually notified Police that two of their party were overdue on Mt Torlesse.

As written, the weather was not good. In fact, the weather was so appallingly bad on Mt Torlesse that the menfolk reached the top in a blizzard. After several attempts to descend in whiteout conditions, and knowing that there were broad ridges which ended in bluffs, they decided that the best thing would be to wait out the storm. Both were experienced trampers/climbers so utilising their ice axes and a billy, they dug an ice slot near the lee of the summit and lined this with packs and some plastic, topping it with a carry mat which was covered with snow.

The piece de resistance was anchoring an ice axe in the snow at the summit with the billy a’top, and running a climbing rope down to the shelter. The duo then squeezed into a sleeping bag that had been stowed in one pack, and enjoyed a couple of peanut bars, limited rations indeed – after all this was a training trip for a proposed walk in the Himalayas. Carrying a billy and a sleeping bag on a day climb of Mt Torlesse was probably excessive but fortuitous.

Of course, Search and Rescue was deployed, and after a very anxious night for the womenfolk, several groups were out from daylight searching the surrounding areas, with a base at the roadman’s hut. The Face Rescue team was flown as high as possible up the peak. Members of this team climbed to the summit and found the billy, ice axe and snow encrusted rope leading down to the ice slot. The two men were essentially OK though cold, but pleased to be escorted to the waiting helicopter, and soon safely delivered to the women still waiting at the red hut.

One of the men didn’t go on the trip to Himalayas, reconsidered the idea, and instead ended up getting married a few months later to the trip writer who had been waiting at home through the drama. The incident was a watershed moment (for the couple), but was never followed by an attempt by me on Mt Torlesse, nor a walk along the true right of the Kowai River. Forty-nine years later and the weather again didn’t work out. I did however manage a nine km walk to visit a friend.

Text by Marie-Therese