Tongariro Crossing, Mangatepopo Road End, Tongariro National Park.
Team: Rene, Paul, Myself
As Mark was away in Europe, I was often away tramping for weekends to keep myself occupied. WT&MC does a Winter Solstice trip every year to the club lodge, where you daywalk on Saturday, party Saturday night and then mooch around a bit on Sunday before heading home. Plans are always fluid depending on who is around, what the people who are capable to lead feel like doing and what the weather is up to. This year we had fantastic clear, crisp skies. The schedule indicated Tama Lakes as the daywalk, with a mountain bike trip to a local loop.
Paul, Rene and I all agreed we didn’t really feel like doing the Tama Lakes walk again. I had done it in November 2007 and found it a bit tedious. Instead, with clear weather in winter we were keen to head over to the Tongariro Crossing to do a there-and-back to South Crater, picking up the mountain bikers on our way home in the afternoon.
The sun was bright and there was not a cloud in the sky as we parked the van at the Mangatepopo Road End. It was absolutely freezing, especially in the shade. As we meandered up the valley towards Soda Springs, every pool of water we found was frozen up to two cm thick, and further up the valley even the streams were frozen over in places. Large segments of the track also obviously never saw sunshine at that time of year!
We passed very few people, except one really oddly dressed tourist in jeans and chucks, carrying a stereo in her shoulder bag… She must have had a really early start, because she was at Soda Springs the same time we were, about 10am, heading down the valley towards Mangatepopo Hut.
Up the new devils staircase in the sun and cold, we got to the top and sat down to take a morning tea break, enjoying the views across to Mt Taranaki and the sunshine. A decision was made that I would wander into South Crater and try some photography, while the guys were going to try and circumnavigate the bowl of South Crater and pick me up on their way back.
All of a sudden there was a scream from slightly further along the track. We all looked at each other and looked across to the large asian woman who we had all noted walking towards us. We waited 10 seconds or so to see if she was going to get herself up, and when she continued screaming instead we all packed up our gear and headed over to find her moaning in pain, lying in a puddle with her ankle at a very odd angle.
In these conditions, with the cold and a strong breeze, the first concern we had was moving her out of that puddle because none of us had suitable dry clothing to change her into. So we grabbed her under the arms and around the knees and shunted her ever so slightly backwards. She spoke almost no English, so our examination was exceedingly cursory – “where does it hurt” was understood well enough as she pointed at her ankle (which was obviously damaged). “Are you warm enough” generated a response of her grabbing more clothes out of her bag (she was remarkably well prepared compared to many other tourists we had heard stories about).
There were no two ways about it. There was no way we could get her out ourselves. We were at the top of the Devils Staircase with a larger (about 95kg+) woman who spoke very little English and with only a very basic first aid kit. We couldn’t support her ankle enough for her to use it, and we didn’t have enough strength to carry her out, nor could we explain sufficiently assisting her out. So out came the cellphone and a desperate attempt at finding enough signal to make an emergency call.
Our lunch spot had coverage sufficient only to send texts and make emergency calls. Perfect. We pulled out the map and the GPS and got readings off both of them for where we were. Rene thought it a bit odd that I asked for the police when I rang 111, but then had a dawning realisation when I then asked for the northern region search & rescue coordinator. Wonderfully, the woman we got on the phone was an avid tramper and had been in our exact location less than three weeks earlier.
Once we had given them an update on what was happening, there was nothing to do but sit and wait. Unfortunately, none of us had brought a cooker or similar with us, so a hot brew was out of the question. It also wouldn’t have been fair on our injured party as we had been instructed that they were only to be given water. No painkillers, no food in case she needed urgent surgery or similar once in hospital.
After what seemed like an eternity (but was only really a couple of hours) and a couple of false alarms where the aircraft flying towards us was obviously on a tour, the chopper we wanted hovered into view right down at the road end, following the track up to find us, as we had expected they would. The closest landing spot was our morning tea seating area, slightly above us.
During this time we had encountered several other tramping parties, some of whom had decided we obviously had things under control, some who completely ignored the situation, but we were so thankful for the small party of kiwis who gave up their attempt to get over the crossing in order to take a note back to the road end for our patients friend explaining the situation, and making a phone call to confirm our situation to SaR once they were back in cellphone range.
Finally someone else was taking over the situation, and we were all exceedingly glad. By this stage Rene, Paul and I were all wearing every single item of clothing we had brought along for the day and we were still feeling the cold. The cloud was also closing in on us, which had caused us substantial concern about visibility for getting the helicopter in if it had come in any further before it arrived.
After loading our patient into a stretcher and taking a quick photo of the “team”, we carried her over and up to the chopper and they were off to try and find her tramping companion – the one we had seen earlier in the day carrying a stereo and wearing jeans. As for us, we were off back down the track towards our van and its warmth. By the time we had made it down into the valley, the ledge we had been standing on when the helicopter arrived was no longer visible. By the time we were 20 minutes down the valley, even the head of the valley had disappeared into the cloud.
Once back in the van, it was time to wait for the mountain biking boys and then we were back to the lodge in near-darkness to have hot showers, retell our story and rest up before dinner and the all-evening party that is solstice weekend.
3 comments:
Hi Amelia.
"During this time we had encountered several other tramping parties, some of whom had decided we obviously had things under control, some who completely ignored the situation, but we were so thankful for the small party of kiwis who gave up their attempt to get over the crossing in order to take a note back to the road end for our patients friend explaining the situation, and making a phone call to confirm our situation to SaR once they were back in cellphone range."
What kind of kiwis were they? If you don't mind me asking. Were they people who'd done lots of tramping all over, or were they people just out on a holiday who'd not been outdoors much at all?
Hey Mike
From memory, they seemed experienced. They were well equipped for daywalkers, and actually stopped and asked if we needed anything. They made sensible suggestions about what they could do...
And I think they even said it was ok that they would pull out from going all the way across because they had done it before
Well that was nice. Shame about the people who ignored you. I guess when there's an impression of lots of people being in an area, it's easier to assume that someone else is going to help instead of you. It's tricky to imagine anything similar happening in a remote place that might only see one or two people a week.
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