A back of the pack, Godzone 2022 race report
Enough weeks have passed to put pen to paper and summarise our adventure like no other. Sitting here in bed with covid, it seems the perfect opportunity to let the mind wander, and reminisce about all the fun times we had out on course! Why does it always seem so fun after.
The team only came together in the last month, a last minute replacement for Ian Huntsman, was found in Mark Treadgold which rounded out our team of Craig Cox, Alex Martin & myself. This year the leadup was especially stressful and I feel lucky that we all got to the start line fit and healthy and with a full team. Craig, Alex and I had a good lead up with plenty of missions in the Ohau and Barrier range, Mark joining us for our biggest & last trip over Jamieson saddle, down the Dobson & back over Flanagan Pass. My highlight of these times was packrafting out of South Huxley Forks hut one crisp sunny morning, a dusting of snow capping the surrounding peaks and a burly, blue greyish, flow in the river.
Race day:
Standing on state highway 6, near Haast Pass the queue of traffic stretched out of sight, cars emptied as godzone competitors nervously watered the verge and compared notes…..’soooo, which way are you going on stage 3‘. Most it seemed, were like us, waiting to see where other teams went.
After endless roadworks we arrived only 5 minutes before our wave 2 start, and feeling the pressure, produced the quickest, zero faff, transition & pack raft inflation of the race. In no time we were running to the start beach, then the jetty, then back again, and we were off. Heart rates finally able to relax as we settled into a game of stay on that wake as we dodged submerged rocks and rounded the Jackson bay heads in a line of red and blue packrafts. It was a bluebird day and a gentle rolling swell kept teams wide of the breakers at the final headland before turning into Smoothwater bay.
A day earlier we had laid out the maps on the floor of our Airbnb in Wanaka. Stage 1 and 2 appeared straightforward with no real route choice, then we began piecing together the maps for stage 3, we laid out first map A, then B, C then D, shit I thought, where are the CP’s. The penny dropped and we realised we had to choose, Big Bay coastal, Jimmy River, Duncan River, or up the Cascade and over the Red Hills. We marked up all four routes and procrastinated for the rest of the day. Our gut leaning towards the red hills route as the best opportunity to make the Pyke river dark zone, but Duncan looked so direct. We’d see where most other teams were going.
It felt good to be underway and we settled in to the fast progress up Smoothwater river, teams jogged past with some urgency here, but we stuck to a swift walk. No Idea sped past and then disappeared into the thick bush as we reached the end of the river highway. Mark knew one of the crew and had a quick chance for a ‘soo, which way you heading on stage 3?’ discussion before they dissappeared into the jungle. The first navigation test of the race was upon us. I took a rough bearing across the saddle heading for Ellery creek and off we bashed, an eye on the time. It was thick, close bush, and quite the shock to the system, it had been a while since I’d needed to back route finding skills in close quarters. A team or two drifted parallel to our left and right but we stayed true to our route and eventually picked up the muddy ponds that fed into Ellery creek. As ever, there was a lot of detail, side creeks and gullys not on the map and with the distraction of multiple mid pack teams we flustered a little. I hate the first few CP’s and wished the other teams would all disappear to let me focus on our plan. McArthur Knob came into view and we took a good bearing near pt 67 over the spur and directly onto the CP. Confidence boosted we headed for Lake Ellery making good progress through the, now mature, forest.
‘Fuck!’, we turned to see Coxy rummaging through his pack, ‘I’ve lost a paddle part’.
We looked back to the bush line. We’re not going back in there. Luckily we had a spare 2 piece at transition so on we sped and after a swift packraft inflation, prompted by the sandflies, and aided by a tow line we crossed Lake Ellery with a gentle tail wind assisting.
Switching to bikes for a short rest, and loaded with wet packraft gear, we made slow progress along Jackson River Road. I felt good, the packraft happily mounted on the handlebars and I spun the legs out over the undulating terrain. Several teams passed us as Inky struggled with a back niggle and Craig the steep pinches loaded with gear. A tow line briefly came out and a series of pushes from Mark and we kept moving, unwilling to stop on such a short ride to rebalance gear.
‘Head across the paddock to the shed and then down to the river’. Our wonderful support crew (Renee & Kylie) had been keeping track and most teams were heading to the Cascade. Our route decided we loaded up, packs to the brim with 3 days food and chewed down some cheese toasties as we settled in for a long evening, and night, and next day, and next night, and …..you get the idea.
Morale was high, it was a beautiful evening, and as the sun began to set we made good time across the 300m paddock! Then it got dark and we hit the bush. I was a little nervous, heading up the Cascade and over Red Hills at night would be a challenge, and without a backup navigator or route finder there was a lot of pressure. Our plan was to stay on the true right all the way until below point 906, then join a gentle curving spur onto the tops. In hindsight we should have been more open to crossing the river, but at night, with big packs, and an unknown river depth we were unwilling to risk a deep river crossing and potential swim.
The 2km leading into and after ‘The bend’ was horrendous. An old benched track appeared and disappeared. Sidling the steep terrain above the river was extremely overgrown and with Coxy’s new two piece wing paddle progress was frustratingly slow. Luckily the blades were metal tipped, so the paddles quickly became walking aids and machetes. We stopped at one point, imagining what if all 20km of the Cascade was like this, and contemplated turning around. But tough terrain always passes, and a few km’s upstream the river opened up and travel improved up the edge of the river, alternating wading and rock hoping as headtorches of other teams came and went. It was the early hours when some headtorches appeared walking back towards us near pt316. The pinch in the river was unpassable and with two other teams we backtracked and tested the steep bluffs above before eventually finding a route up and through. Another hour’s diversion to make 500m progress. Lights were everywhere now and several teams followed us upriver. The team was moving well but stops were becoming more frequent, food, toilet, feet. As dawn broke we reached the steep spur below pt906 and directed the team to cross the river at what appeared to be a good spot. Coxy and Inky led the way, Inky bobbed across the river, waist, then chest then shoulder deep, her Breca swim specialism showing. Oops maybe not the best spot to cross. Mark and I walked 20m further upstream and found an ankle deep crossing. We found a good game trail up the spur and anticipated the good progress (a reality that did not exist on stage 3) ahead as we crested the last of the steeps at the 700contour. It was not to be. The shallow green rolling contours and tarns was goblin beech forest with dead wood and windfall everywhere, covered in a thick mossy layer, a landscape photographers dream but deadly slow. Hitting the bush line we looked forward to fast tops travel, thigh high tussock greeted. The dark zone well and truly missed we settled in for a stunning day on the Red Hills and enjoyed the scenery. Wonderful ridge lines and views across to Red Mountain only spoilt by the buzzing helicopters as teams got plucked from the wilderness. Another bluebird day meant the nav was easy, until the sun set at pt 1166 and we dropped down west towards Durwards Creek and a valley of ferns, vines, Taniwha and sleepmonsters. The team tired from 36hours non stop racing, speed, balance and good decision making were lacking. What should have been a straightforward descent to a Pyke riverside camp, took forever as we bashed, slid, climbed, sat, and generally farted about in a maze of twisting creek and windfall madness. At some point around 3am we found a flat enough spot to lie down and dived into bags and tent for a few hours rest. It turned out this was the confluence of Chrome creek with Durwards.
Day 3.
Waking early to make the most of the daylight the team morale was a little rough. Morning rituals, combined with a bit of faff meant a leisurely start to the Pyke packraft, but we were amped by the prospect of packrafting a classic. Arriving at the Pyke was a little anticlimactic but we were buoyed by the sight of our friendly surrounding teams from the day before. The river was low and we walked 1km downstream before inflating. The scenery was epic, but it was physical and slow work to nurse the packraft over the shallow braids, and around trees. The morning was kept interesting as Mark and I watched the swim team of Coxy and Inky, showcase their paddling skills by broadsiding a tree and losing another paddle. Inky luckily swam clear of the tree as the packraft flipped while Craig mounted it for dear life. His paddle was swept under and pinned beneath the sieve.
It should be noted that Mark and I are the novice paddlers of the team compared to the natural paddling talent of Inky and Craig, but packrafting’s a bit of a different sport and Mark and I had truely mastered the art of the co-ordinated packraft bum shuffle and paddle push to get down the shallow braids. Key to this technique is a lack of care for the paddle and a lack of muscle memory for how to paddle properly.
As morning turned into midday we arrived at the first CP of the stage, holy shit!, and we’re greeted by two friendly volunteers and thrown a bag of snakes. At this point we were well aware the stage was taking a bit longer than planned so the extra food was welcome to boost our rations. A tail wind picked up to assist our crossing of Lake Wilmot and then further downstream Lake Alabaster. Eventually we arrived at Pyke lodge and bemused by the multiple confluence of rivers on the map, a team packing up on river left ahead, and my sudden bowel urgency we stopped. In our haste to markup maps pre race we had made a minor blunder on which way the Hollyford river flowed, and luckily thanks to Mark’s analysis while I emptied the tank, we realised we needed to walk, not packraft 10km up the Hollyford river to avoid another loop back to Big Bay.
Rain began to set in as we packed, fueled and patched up before heading over little Homer saddle to Hidden Falls hut. Craig and Inky’s feet were beginning to show the signs of abuse, and the start of a foot ritual which was key to our continued progress started. The rain kept falling, consistent as we walked and arriving at the hut on nightfall we were told heavy rain was forecast all night. Stories of pursuit teams arriving back at Hidden Falls hut after days, yes days!, lost on the high slopes above Hidden Falls were shared with glee by the hut volunteers. We planned to sleep 5hours and then push on at 3am but the late return of a pure team, ‘Godwits’, and their suffer story of 6hours lost amid bluffs searching for a way through from point 406 sent warning bells ringing. The torrential rain pouring on the roof of the hut settled it, snooze button hit until daybreak. We weren’t allowed into the hut so slept on the porch. We woke at dawn to more rain and a southerly wind, temporary wind breaks were setup, mats shared and gear strewn everywhere. The mood was low, but somehow Coxy managing to lighten it with stories of the benefits of sleeping over a grate.
Godwits had said it took 4 hours to pt 406 which seemed insane, but as we dived off the well trodden Hollyford track we realised they were right. Refreshed after a good nights sleep, I needed to be on my game for this, careful not to get distracted by other teams and creeks not shown on the map as we headed followed a bearing into the swamp and forest. A piece of blue tape and foot trail offered hope as we picked, by picked I mean climbed clinging to tree roots and vegetation up semi vertical bluffs taking turns to haul packs up, our way up and through a maze of confused contours for an hour, 500m down, 9.5km to go. At about the 200m contour I changed bearing and took an upward sidle heading for pt 406, the ground was matching and despite the terrain and consistent but light rain, the mood was good. We were eating and making slow but steady progress. Regular stops started creeping in, a sign that the weight was starting to take it’s toll. At pt 406 we compared our altimeter readings, 369, 390, 420, 440m. Oh that’s not great. We were reliant on finding the 420 contour to sidle through cliff country. Luckily the tell tale signs of 100 teams helped and moving 500m an hour we inched our way down, up, around, under, pretty much anyway except straight forwards, towards the hopefully easier ground of the hidden falls creek beyond. We did't take any photos in the bad stuff....!
Popping out at one stage we re-united with Godwits, who were walking in their wetsuits to stay warm. Little was said, everyone was in a bad way in this monster of a sidle, teams that did this at night have my full respect. Coxy was hurting, his leg pretty buggered with cramp?, but there was little we could do except push on, or push the little red button. Eventually we reached the river, where three teams sat, broken, the look on their faces said it all. Holy fuck! I was feeling pretty chipper, relieved, brought about by a bounty bar and the best food of the trip a creamed rice and fruit cold rehydrated meal, yum. The valley was stunning, massive rocks, tumbling water, beech forest. It would have been an amazing spot on a nice summers day, but forward and torturous progress beckoned. The dream of faster progress in the valley floor was shattered as more undulating mossy and scramble madness ensued.
Arriving wet and cold at the base of Park Pass on dusk we spied a perfect campsite and with the team exhausted and hurting, and southerly change forecast a decision to sleep. In hindsight, the southerly did not come through for another 12 hours we should have pushed through over Park pass in the night. Day broke and with the morning’s rituals complete we headed up valley, hoping for a well formed track up Park pass. Well rested, I was excited by the prospect of seeing the Rockburn in daylight and completing a truly epic stage. The Rockburn did not disappoint, and as we climbed the exciting ridge the morning mist cleared to reveal a CP, two volunteers and an awe inspiring panoramic. We were told we were the second to last team over here, the last 20 teams all choosing to hike out the Hollyford. The Godwits had pushed on through the night, in their wetsuits, and were now several hours ahead. Food was getting low and we began trying to ration, easier said than done. Witnessing the symptoms of not eating enough and then choosing to ignore them and let the body drift into a hole is hard. But we were getting close. The scenery eased our suffering and soon we were descending to the sound of the Dart river, two fabulous volunteers (who had the worst sandfly spot to hangout) hot soup and bread and the relief of a Dart river float. The Dart was running grey from all the rain, the increased flow welcome and making the last few hours to Glenorchy speed by as the southerly change closed in around the tops behind us. Arriving in Glenorchy to TA3 on nightfall we were greeted by our support crew, a mask wearing Ann-Marie and no Renee. Too hungry to question we guzzled the food, I think I’ve never eaten so many calories in the space of 10 minutes, and before long was feeling great. The prospect of the enforced 24hour standdown period and being short coursed a double edged sword. The mind would have been happier cruising onto the bikes, the body welcome for a day’s R&R, or is it the other way around?
Restart:
With all the unranked Hollyford teams let off the day before, we were one of only a handful (2?) of tail end teams left at TA5, starting the 170km Nevis bike ride. We left at 9.30pm, hoping to make the 4.30pm cut-off for the Taieri the following day, which required a 19hour ride time. Refreshed and refueled, we headed off into the night. It was a cold night, but with great riding, good company and some great tunes (I’d strapped my boom box to my handlebars) we rode all night to the sounds of Groove Armada and Calvin Harris (sorry team!) while climbing endless hills onto the Old Woman Range. Mark’s strength on the bike shone through on this stage towing the team up many a hill. We crested the top on dawn just as the last full course team passed us in good spirits.
A few close calls on the fast rutted descent saw us at Roxburgh dam and the realisation that we were nearly there…..oh how wrong we were. With the afternoon heat came a final sting. Riding from Roxburgh to Lake Onslow broke us, well all except Mark, who kept charging with tow rope to pull us through. We arrived at TA6 at 5pm, spent, and tucked into KFC feast (thanks crew!). With plenty of sleep in the bank, albeit from two nights ago, we pushed on paddling across the Lake at sunset and hiked over to CP25. Our plan, along with a few teams, was to camp and wait till first light before attempting the navigational maze of the Taieri. This proved a good call, but fortunately the CP’s were all straightforward, the only strategy deciding how many optional portages to attempt. The monotony of the paddling getting to us, I decided on one ambitious shortcut, and surprised to see team ‘Bags of Adventure’ following, we dragged packrafts across the tussock to gain, well probably nothing other than a bit of diversity, but it boosted Mark and I’s morale when we watched the swim team, take another dip. Inky swimming as Coxy passed the packraft down a steep bank with a little too much vigour.
Coming into TA7 we were told we had to standdown at the TA for 3 hours and then drive for 3 hours to TA8 before starting the Taieri kayak, we were a little miffed as we felt (probably mistakenly) we could have ridden the 100km mountainbike in that time, and I’d not trained for kayaking so could have used the bike break.
At TA8 we loaded into two double barracuda kayaks, and with these foreign wing shaped paddles I played a game of stay on that wake. Inky and Craig’s turn to showcase, their paddling ability making it look effortless while I barely hung on. As darkness fell, we followed Inky through a fog of insects picking braids before eventually the river deepened and we settled into a slow rhythm to arrive at the bridge and dark zone in the early hours. We wake at dawn, re-united with about 10 other teams at the restart. The pace led by several full course teams competing for top 10 was immediately up a notch and Inky, in her element, was off. Shit!! She was charging and wanted to reel them in, Mark and I doing all we could to just stay on their wake. Arriving at the last TA too soon for our support crew we stood shivering until a whole 5 minutes later they arrived. A final 3km bike ride to the beach and then the last 19km fast coastal walk to the finish, the surging salty water and sand could not slow us down and we made good time up the stunning beach and around the headlands. It was a great opportunity to catch-up with other teams and play ‘spot the full course team!’. Another bluebird day and a slight tail wind helped us along, it was a great way to finish, if slightly bittersweet, the knowledge that we were unable to draw a fully continuous line to our east coast finish on my mind. But there’s always next year for that!
Thanks to my teammates Inky, Coxy and Mark for putting up with my lack of tent etiquette, was I wearing my paddle helmet one night?, and my at times impatient urges. We had a good laugh, most of the time. Super impressed how well Mark and Inky did for their first expedition race, not an easy one to start with guys, next time don’t pick a ten year anniversary to dip your toes in!
Also thanks to our amazing support crew, Renee Wootton, Kylie Cox and Ann-Marie Head. They also had an adventure like no other when Renee was a close contact having spent three nights with a confirmed COVID case, Inky’s partner Paul, while we were on stage 3.
