Walking in a Winter Wonderland

Although we’re rarely sitting-on-our-arses-doing-nothing types, we’re not always up for a long walk at this time of the year. We might do a quick blat around the block or a shorter walk up the mountain, but if the weather isn’t particularly good we’re just as likely to look out of the window and think, nah, we’ll flag it today. Unless, of course, it’s not too long until a holiday where sitting on our arses is definitely not going to happen, so we’d better get out and get the legs prepared for some upcoming hard work.

The weather has been kind to us and we’ve managed to avoid the rain most of the time, although a few weeks ago we skidded and paddled up the Old Blyth Track, completely forgetting our self-imposed rule of not doing it after rain. I can’t remember the last time my boots got so wet and it was a good test of the leg muscles, not so much the walking part as the trying not to slip and fall over part.

One cold and sunny Saturday we drove around the mountain to Whakapapa and one of my favourite walks, Silica Rapids, a circuit that ends on the road a couple of km from the village. To avoid the boring road bit we usually turn around and return the way we came, which makes for a longer but much nicer walk. It had rained that week in Ohakune, the temperature suggesting snow on the mountain, despite it being early season and any local happy to tell you: snow in May will never stay. When the clouds cleared there was Ruapehu in a shiny new white suit, flanked by Tongariro and Nguaruhoe resplendent in their winter coats. In the village, our tyres crunched on ice and frozen snow, the car park with few tyre tracks. Ohakune, a little lower, was snow free and we weren’t prepared for a seriously cold walk but set off anyway in the hope the exercise would warm us.

We slithered our way into the forest where branches hung low and heavily loaded ferns drooped across the ice-covered path, an occasional breeze flicking snow from them and at us, ice glinting on the hard muddy path like precious stones. Out of the trees the snow was inches deep, our boots breaking through the crust and squeaking into deep footsteps, our poles cra-a-arking as we dug them into the snow, sounding like the squark of a moorland grouse. I hummed Walking in a Winter Wonderland as I warmed with the effort and it was a beautiful, if frigid, day.

A couple of weeks ago we took the track around the mountain, not sure if we’d get across the river by Waitonga Falls. We did but it was freezing and our scarves gained diamond drips from our breath, which misted and hung around our heads in the still air. Ruapehu, still sporting his snowy coat, reflected perfectly in Rotokawa pool. To the west Mt Taranaki, with his own white peak, was clear on the horizon. Thick frost coated the ground where the sun hadn’t reached and shaded boardwalks were slick with ice. The constant up and down warmed us and we removed scarves and gloves, then pulled them back on when a slight breeze chilled us as we paused for a quick lunch in a sunny spot.

The following weekend we planned to walk higher up the mountain, above the treeline on a track with a few river crossings. When we opened the curtains to see frost so thick the lawn was white we changed our plans and stayed lower, walking the Old Coach Road instead. Frozen leaves and grasses crisped under our feet as we toiled up the wide path, the sun shining but not on us. We continued past the Hapuawhenua Viaducts, old and new, and climbed steadily to the high point before descending to the fast-flowing, and thankfully bridged, Tainui Stream. The new viaduct soared above us and we climbed out of the valley on a frozen path into the sun and a picnic table by the skeleton of the old. We were warm in the sun as we munched sandwiches, but the chill found us again as we retraced our steps into the sunless valley.

Back at the car park, where the sun hadn’t risen above the ridge behind, the car was freezing and we blasted the heater as we drove home. Newfoundland weather is reported to be similar to ours. There’s a brilliant clip on social media, a prospective visitor asking if they should pack for cold or hot, fine or rainy, windy or still. Yes, is the reply. See you soon. We’re used to carrying layers and expecting anything, but I’m hoping that their July weather won’t be quite as cold as we’ve been hiking in recently.