Three Girls Go Camping And Tramping In 1944-5 - Part 1
Madeleine Hamilton - 20/07/01

Editor's note
This account of tramping and camping was recorded in an artistic booklet prepared in 1945 by the late Madeleine Hamilton and given to Jean Dick (nee Maclachlan) on Madeleine's death. Jean has given us permission to publish the booklet. We have included the most important photographs and Madeleine's drawings. This may make it slow to download, but those of us who work on NZine believe that you will find it well worth waiting for.

Click here to view a reproduction of Madeleine's map.

Madeleine Hamilton

As I sit by the sea, with the breakers rolling as far as the eye can see, it seems a far cry to the snow capped mountains of the Rees Valley where we have just had a taste of Nature's endless variety - river valleys and beech forest, bush-clad mountainsides, waterfalls, native bird life, and above them all the snow clad mountains. These and many more to be had for the seeking.

Through the invitation of the Otago Section of the New Zealand Alpine Club, we joined their Christmas camp at the Rees Valley - Madge Morland, Jean Maclachlan and I. To our delight we learned that we could have stores packed to the camp site, and the end of November saw some mighty serious consultation over food and kit lists, and by the cooperation of several kind friends finally railed two imposing looking cases to Mr Pat Scott, Temple Peak Glenorchy. All that remained was to get there ourselves. We met the main party at Queenstown, that gem of the southern lakes, on Saturday, December 23.

Of course in places and times such as these timetables of buses and launches simply don't exist - or so we found - just why we never discovered. Hence some of the party did not arrive at Queenstown till nearly 10 p.m. that night, and by the time we had launched up the lake it was 1.3O a.m. We were sorry it was not a clearer or a warmer night for this trip - the only eventful part was the Christmas cheer of the non-climbing merrymakers.

Most of us were feeling a little travel worn, but a hot supper at George Burt's Glenorchy Hotel did wonders, and so we climbed aboard the bus for the twelve miles up the road to the Rees bridge. We walked about a mile in the clear night, and at a clearing in the manuka (white blossoms all a-blowing) crawled into sleeping bags and lay under the stars.

Better to hunt in fields for health unbought Than fee the doctor for a nauseous draught. The wise for cure on exercise depend. God never made His work for man to mend. - Dryden

The warmth of the sun woke us and one by one we emerged from chrysalis-like bags (but no butterflies were we) - open-air breakfast, and the various parties set off up the valley. We had not gone far when we met a herd of herefords, but decided they were more curious than dangerous, though we did not linger long to admire their white and chestnut markings.

Our track took us first over smooth grassy flats, then through glades of beech forest so typical of this country. There is nothing quite like the ethereal beauty of the sun filtering through beech trees, or quite like the tawny carpet the leaves make underfoot. Then, as we came out to open country once more, the river gave us a delightful picture at every turn.

The meanest flower   that blows   Can give thoughts   that do often   Lie too deep for   tears. - Wordsworth

Thus we wandered up the Rees valley, "drinking it all in". and if our packs seemed a little heavy this was quickly forgotten when, on coming to the edge of the 25 mile terrace, we saw the Base Camp some 500 yards further up the valley and Jock Sim coming across to welcome us to the Camp.

From left Madge, Madeleine and Jean outside their tent

Jock took his duties as Camp Father very seriously. Besides checking each party in and out, he selected our camp site, helped us pitch the two tents, dug our fireplace, and tucked us down that first night just as the first drops of rain fell. Too tired to be worried about hard ground or sandflies that night!

Tasty
Poor Jeanie seemed to be the choice of the sandflies - by special request from their headquarters. We told her it was because she was so tender and sweet - to which she replied "I'd rather be tough and no sandfly bites" - but whatever the reason, while Madge and I certainly did not make close friends of them, poor Jeanie just attracted them wherever she went, and a particularly hungry and vicious lot they were.

The friendly Rees
By this time we realised it was Christmas Eve. We were really in the land of our dreams and so were eager to see this new country. Our camp was on a grassy terrace above the river. Some camped in "sandfly alley" below the terrace, but we called ourselves "Fifth Avenue" and felt very superior on the higher level, with slightly fewer 'flies. Across the river we saw Mt. Earnslaw, and for the first time saw the dusky pink of the snow caused by the dust from the Australian bush fires. Freshly fallen snow on the tops accentuated this unusual phenomenon. Tents were scattered all over the valley nearby, blue smoke curling up from each campfire. We were camping at last, dependent now on the elements and our ingenuity to make life what we would. Far into the night we sang carols, always coming back to "Silent night, holy night" - it seemed so appropriate in the peaceful valley under the stars.

Some of the group at Rees Camp. From left Back: N. Kendon, Jean MacLachlan, Mary and Jock Sim, Madge Morland, Earle Riddiford*, Roger Evans Front: Jon Gummer, F & H Barta, Yvonne Denniston, Madeleine Hamilton, M Susman

Delectable
On Christmas Day we were content to chat to other parties in the camp, finding many old friends - Scott Gilkison and his wife Margaret, two Christchurch boys, Roger Evans and Earle Riddiford (whom we called "Oil"), Dr Mary Talbot and her cousinBill, Dr Murray McGeorge, and many others.

The big job that day was cooking (and eating) Christmas dinner, and if our menu was not as comprehensive as the United Service Hotel it was just as delectable to us. We finally produced carrots and potatoes, fresh green peas and mint, tinned meat, gravy, plum pudding and custard, nuts, raisins and sweets. The mint was culled from the Rees valley near the 25 mile hut, and the peas Madge and I brought from Cromwell.

Trail blazing
On Boxing Day we set out with Jock and Mary Sim to explore the Hunter Gorge for a route giving easier access to a number of peaks at the head of that valley - Head, Ellie, Moira, Pluto and Sir William, etc. We crossed the Rees opposite the camp and entered the bush some 200 yards further down. In dense mixed bush we climbed up and over the point and continued parallel with the Hunter gorge, rising all the time. Jock and "Oil" slashed away in front, while Madge and little "Tommy" did good work at the rear. The bush was very dense, and we marvelled that Jock knew his directions so well. By a creek we stopped for a boil up and continued with our trail blazing. Reaching steeper and more open country, we found rock bluffs running the length of the ridge, but found a way through and kept on along the top of the ridge. At 4 p.m. we girls decided to make for camp as rain was falling, but going back was not quite so simple. Quite a distance of our track was unblazed as Jock was trying to connect with a deer track which he thought would be a better route, and for that reason had not blazed the trail higher up as it would be confusing for future parties. It was not long before we saw and welcomed the familiar blazed trees, and we lost no more time in the rain.

Back at the camp we found that Roger had our fire going and the billy boiling. Most of the camp had climbed Mr. Clarke, and we regretted we had not joined them as this day proved to be one of the few suitable for the "tops".

The weather was most unsettled throughout the camp. It rained either in the morning or late afternoon - simply could not decide to be nor'west or sou'west for any length of time - wind blowing up the valley one minute and down the next.

The trio crossing the river

Shelter Rock Hut

Snowy Creek

Down Snowy Creek to Mt Edward

Swing bridge over Snowy Creek

We migrate to the Dart
We had been keen to see the country further afield, and when we learned that a party was going to the Dart Hut we decided to go too. Aileen Stanton and Alan Odell from Auckland U.C.T.C. were going over to join the rest of their party already in the Dart, and Dr Murray McGeorge offered to act as guide. So we leisurely set off up the Rees about 1.30 p.m. on December 27th, but we really should have started earlier as rain fell later in the day and we had one of our many wettings.

Our route lay up the valley beside the river, with several fordings, but keeping mostly to the true right bank. Our method of fording was in true Cantabrian style - crossing in line at right angles to the current, with ice axes locked in front and arms interlinked holding them. Even so the force of the water dominated all else.

Twice we went fairly high in the bush above the river on the true right bank, the last time coming out near the river not far from Shelter Rock hut. There we found a full house - the large bunk almost filled the hut, and could not possibly hold everyone, so with some in tents and seven on the bunk like sardines, we bedded down for the night - Ruth and Derek Mess, Alby Johnston and David Rees-Jones, Bill and Mary Talbot, and our party of six.

December 28th
Breakfast was cooked in relays, and we finally took off about 9.30 a.m. The weather was fine, but none too reliable. Following a deer or cattle track above the hut we reached the head of the valley where the Rees is but a small stream. Snowy Saddle lay about 400 feet above us, and the going was up steep, hazardously slippery, snow grass. A quick look back from the Saddle and we dropped down out of the wind for a boil up at 1 p.m. By this time the wind was whipping round us.

Snowy Creek is well named, though more a gorge than a creek. The grey water gushes through and over the rocks at break-neck speed, to join the Dart some three or four miles below. We crossed by a natural avalanche- a snow bridge - and followed the creek down the true right bank, fairly high up. The wind was now strong and cold, with rain, hail and an occasional flash of lightning and roll of thunder. As we pressed on round the rock ledges on the slopes of Mt Headlong we roped up till safer levels were reached. Then we followed the main track for about an hour through curse-provoking spaniards and matagouri, and reached the swing bridge over Snowy Creek.

This bridge is only struts wired cross-wise between two wire ropes, and two hand wires, but greatly simplifies the route. So we reached the sanctuary of the Dart Hut about 5.30 p.m., where we discovered that Bill and Mary Talbot's party had arrived at 2.30 though they had left Shelter Rock at the same time. They had kept to the true left bank and crossed Snowy Creek much lower. But we did not regret our route, as it gave us an interesting climb and a good view of Mt Edward and the upper Dart.

Mostly Eating
December 29th we spent lazily. It rained off and on all day, and we were quite content to yarn with Jean Craigie, Ernie Smith, Stan Ombler and the rest of the hut occupants. Four of the Auckland boys improved the shining hour by trekking back to the Base Camp for more food. That night we decided that the next day we would explore the upper Dart, weather permitting of course, and possibly climb Cascade Saddle and Plunket Dome.

*Earle Riddiford took his climbing very seriously and later was to join Edmund Hillary's Everest Expedition.

Click here to read Three Girls Go Camping And Tramping In 1944-5 Part 2