NZ 3 - Kahuragi NP - Loch Peel

NZ 3 - Kahuragi NP - Loch Peel

I make my way slowly up Cobb Ridge a few 100 meters at a time. Barren but for knee high bunch grass, I follow the carnes along the ridge, which appear and dissappear with each cloud bank. At times gale force winds damn near bring me to my knees, as I make the ridgeline. Rain seems to blow so alhard, that it stings the face and bounces of my rain jacket. There is a love/hate to conditions in the mountains.

At the moment, I'm in a bit of missary about it. Mother nature is what she is, bitter sweet rains and then moments of pure joy with a passing sun break. With tr breaks I seem to try and find my sun, checking for the next carne and allowing the surrounding Mountians to bee seen through cloud breaks, gainin my brearing before the clouds bank in again. It now occurs to me, that I should have brought rain pants. But with all things sometimes you have to learn the nature of a place through trial and error.

I crest over to a gap in the ridgeline. Like a frieght train the wind roars throught twin limestone rock faces. down below is the trail post, and the route down to Loch Peel. I say that, because the Tablelands of the Upper Takaka Valley look like what I would imagine the Highlands of Scotland would be like. Barren rock piles of mountains, with long green and cold hills leading down to narrow lakes nesseled within the oaks and knarled birch, sculped by centuries of winds out of the tops of the island. It is no wonder the few Kiwis that I have meet along the way, have had ancestors from the Highlands.

I take the jucntion and look down into the Valley of the Peel. The winds are a little more sheltered here, as Peel Mtn sits like a thorn at the head of the valley, cutting the clouds like a knife. Blue sky bounces in and out of existance. Lost in lookin up, I fail to notice the grand valley before me. Droping 500m the barren snow grass gripping the sides along the rocky cliffs. As the sun passed through the valley and over the Loch's bench, an arching bow of color spang forth across the valley floor. The sides were cradled with the white lace of waterfalls descending into the lost river below.

I stood there gathering the sight, which slowly fades as the break in the clouds passed by. The force of winds reminded me I was yet to Balloon Hut, and Loch Peel still lay before me. Yet the light on the landscape was playing it's magic like old Celtic lore upon me. Again the rainbow appeared before me, leadig my eyes across the valley, yet tromping forward to Loch Peel. Over the scree of rock descending from the Tableland heights, I bounded along. Coming bench at which the waters edge stood. There the winds moving across the snow grass seem to pulse like wild rapids, giving the whole scene a sense of movement.

This place was alive with spirit and nature. Indeed a place to pay homage to mother natures beauty, even if her furry sometimes can bring a man to his knees. Content with the specticle after a log lingering look, I took back to a trampers long line across the open ridges and on to Balloon Hut, to find the warmth of a wood stove and a hot kettle of tea.

As Basho once said along the mountains of Japan, "Homeless I wander, in the company of Nature..."

Indeed she is a great teacher...


Along the backcountry mile,
Ridgewalker (Jorj)