“I’m sure it’s just here.”

“Where else could it be?”

“WTF are you going to do if you can't find the track?”

“What does it look like if I can’t get out?”

“Sort your sh💩t out. You got yourself into this. You can get yourself out”

“Brookes expecting you any minute in Kaitokie, you’re f🤬cking going around in circles. You’ve really f🤬cked this one up”

This is what my inner thoughts looked like back at the end of February when I had my first SK Tarn attempt. It was my first big solo mission. The day didn’t go perfectly, but I was still in the fight until I got lost heading towards the Cone saddle.

The weight of the day came down on me with its full force when I made a simple nav error. I thought a triangle sent me up the bank. When I realised I was off track, I couldn’t find myself back to the last triangle. In fact, I couldn’t find any semblance of the track at all. How could I lose the track so easily?

I can’t even tell you how long I was lost. I got lost in a cone wormhole. Eventually, I reset my mind, ate some food, and scraped together enough grey matter to refind the track. I can’t begin to describe the relief I felt when I saw that first orange triangle after being lost for hours.

**My most favourite Orange Triangle of all time**

By that time, my quads had completely cooled down and refused to refire.

I had the worst DOMS I had ever had, and I was hours from the finish. It was a long, painful death march down the valleys of doom. So much time to think about how close I was to my goal and how badly I had f🤬cked it up.

The sun rose for the second time of the mission, and I completed the route in just under 29H. I have never felt such a mix of relief and frustration. Unfinished business for sure.

**A lot of feels at the finish of my first Tarn SK sub 24 attempt.**

Easter came and went, and so did Anzac weekend. Life, logistics, and weather, for whatever reason, just didn’t quite line up. Out of the blue, I got an email from Joe Murphy. He’s keen to join forces and has also invited Josh Campbell.

Initial excitement turns to anxiety. These guys are super quick. I’m used to chatting to them before a race and then seeing them again at the end for a beer. We lock in the 30th of April, retribution day.

**3 different levels of hype (Joe Murphy Left, Josh Campbell middle, Me on the right)**

The big day arrives and it's a super early start. A 2AM wake up before meeting the others and heading over to Putara for a 4.50AM start.

Putara > West Peak

The temperature is mild but I can’t quite convince myself to start in a t-shirt. A few nervous selfies and we’re off. I lead out from the gate and set off into the bush. I know I’m the sloth of the group but I shoot out ahead. I don't intend to be dragged along for the whole 24 hours.

The river trail turns inwards and the root ladder up towards the ridge begins. I can hear the conversation flowing between Josh and Joe. They aren’t far behind, it sounds like they’re out on a Sunday walk.

We regroup at the turn off and before we know it we are at our first hut of the day. Herepai Hut at 1.05H ish. Already 10 minutes ahead of last time. A quick top up of bottles and we start our march towards the tops.

The track doesn’t muck around. In no time we’re climbing out of the bush into the glorious tussocked tops of the Northern Tararua. Orange starts to glow from the east, excitement replaces nervousness for the day ahead. The forecast has held. This time I’ve got the window seat with all the views.

Herepai and Rupae come and go. Our jackets come and go. The waratah signaling the turn at East Peak arrives. Down into the saddle of doom. Everything seems easier this time. I can see West Peak. The vegetation is nowhere near as wet. Even the leatherwood feels slightly softer, scratching across my shins.

Spirits are high as we gain West Peak. The sun is starting to do its thing and it feels like a natural spot to stop for a bite. Josh is rocking curry croquettes, Joe had some salad sandwiches and I got stuck into my first marmite, avo & picklenaise wrap. Not quite Sam Hansby level, but they were pretty f🤬cking good.

West Peak > Arete Biv

Full visibility this time so it’s pretty uneventful along the ridge. Mentally it makes such a big difference being able to see where I’m going. Walker comes and goes. Pukemoremore draws close and I point out where I went wandering off towards Dome in the clag last time. It seems so comical.

Up and over the craggy peak of Pukemoremore than Logan. Two-thirds of the way up Dundas, we sidle across to the ridge. A great call from Joe. There was still going to be plenty of vert left to rack up later. Over to our left Joe points out Bannistar and its ridge trailing back towards Waingawa. Another mission for another day. Clouds start to form behind us as we drop off the ridge and make a line for Arete Biv.

**Perfect conditions for some tops action**

Arete Biv > Adkin

It's the second decent food stop of the day, and I discover Joe is packing heat. He has a giant slice of carrot cake in his pack. Ah well, I’ll need to up my game next time.

I thoroughly enjoy this part of the range. First time round I couldn't see much. I had an ill conceived idea of the distance between the biv and the drop off through the pinnacles. A better idea of time and distance this time I can relax knowing I’m not about to fall off a cliff.

The Waiohine pinnacles are a lot of fun, you definitely need to be switched on but the route through is fairly well worn. In saying that, I would hate to battle high winds like team Fandango did through here. It is here I realize that Josh is a bit more tentative like me with exposure. Nice to know I’m not the only one. Joe on the other hand looks like he’s walking along a boardwalk.

**It always looks worse then it is … until it’s not!**

Down the pinnacles we go and on to Tarn ridge. Running might be an exaggeration but we make good time across the flattish part of the ridge. Most reports I’ve read fail to mention the 2 grunty climbs on either side of the hut- I’m guessing most people wipe them from their memory. I might send a proposal to LINZ. Maybe ‘WTF’ and ‘MF’ might be better than 1371 & 1435.

A quick water stop at Tarn ridge hut and then we start marching off towards Girdlestone. There's no easy way up Girdlestone. Thankfully the scenery distracts from the pain starting to build in my legs. Scanning out towards Dorset hut reminds me I still have so much to see in the Tararua. Balanced on the bushline half way down one of Girdlestones many sprawling ridges. I must go stay there one day.

We crest Girdletone. It’s a great milestone to tick off. I pop a gel and then start heading down the steep ridge towards Adkin. It is as hard going down as up. My mind starts trailing off, thinking about the smoother travel to come. The steep climb up Adkin snaps me back to the present. I’ve never really heard people talk about Adkin that much. I guess because it lies between the big 1500’s of Girdlestone and the 3 Kings it gets forgotten about. The three times I’ve been through I’ve found Adkin packs a punch. It almost takes the edge off getting up to North King.

Adkin > Powell

We take a quick food break on top of Adkin. This might be my favourite spot. Looking back at Girdlestone admiring where we have just come from. Behind us the giant that is Mitre with its steep flanks dropping down into a deep valley. You can’t get this view without some serious sweat … or a helicopter.

The Three Kings come and go, always a fun time clambering along the ridge. Approaching Broken Axe I declare I’m taking the sidle track… deep down I’m a bit of a wuss. Josh decides to join me, and there are no surprises as Joe starts climbing up the southern pinnacle.

**This image might look familiar … sitting on Adkin looking back at Girdlestone**

We regroup and start our approach to Mcgregor. I can’t see the approach that cuts below Mcgregor to the south, all I can see is spaniards. We decide to approach from the North. I’m not sure if it is any better. It really is a bit of a bastard. After some leatherwood surfing, spaniard grabbing and a few swear words it feels great to be on top of Mcgregor looking at what is to come.

Heading up Jumbo I can make out the first human outline we’ve seen today. I presume it’s Liz as she had mentioned she was going to be staying at Jumbo with the family that night. Sure enough it’s her. It’s great to see a friendly face and a good excuse to let the legs rest for a few minutes.

Josh scores some of Liz’ leftover lunch (apparently the best bread roll, ever) and we are off heading towards Mt Holdsworth. Grinding up eastern Holdsworth, I can really start feeling the cumulative effect of the day so far. 33K in, 4K of climbing. I guess it’s not surprising.

We hit Powell hut as the last of the light is beginning to fade. It’s heaving with people eating and making dinner. We get a few sideways looks and a few questions. One guy starts telling us about the time he did the Tararua Mountain Race. He realised within the first K he had made a mistake as he watched people running up the hill. Classic.

Powell > Totara Flats

The pace down from Powell isn’t electric, but the big steps down feel so much better than last time. A quick stop at the Totara flats turnoff to take off layers. I lead off again, setting what I feel is a steady but safe pace as last time I hammered my quads heading down, racing the fading light. There is something I find quite soothing descending down towards a river. Much like staring into a flame. Soon enough the swing bridge appears and we arrive at Totara Flats hut.

Totara Flats > Cone Hut

The last time I started to lose it mentally across the flats, I had never been here at night. The mental energy of my first solo mission navigating in the clag had really drained me—a lot more than I realized. I faffed around deciding between taking the river or the track. I lost the track. I ended up going to the river and then tried to get back on the track.

This time I have a guided tour and a bonus history lesson on Totara flats. It blows my mind that we are running above an old totara forest that was buried many years ago. The forces that create these amazing landscapes we enjoy really are incomprehensible to me.

My mood starts to shift. The last couple of K’s to cone saddle turn-off really seems to be dragging on. My feet are beginning to hurt, and although it has been an amazing day, I’m starting to feel “Are we there yet?” vibes. We drop anchor at the turn off, refuel and I mentally prepare myself to go back to the place that took my soul. The Cone of suffering as Martini likes to call it. It’s at this point I wish I could say I set the trail alight as I blazed my way to retribution. But that’s just not reality.

Cone doesn’t muck around. It climbs steeply from the first step. It likes to tire you out early and then play with your mind with false turns and half trails. Fortunately, Kyle and Ian were through a few weeks earlier and replaced a lot of the old triangles and cut back some of the vegetation. The mood feels low as we climb towards the first high point. Joe grabs his phone out and pushes play.

“So you look into the land and it will tell you a story”

“Story 'bout a journey ended long ago”

“Listen to the motion of the wind in the mountains”

“Maybe you can hear them talking like I do”

“They're gonna betray you, they're gonna forget you”

“Are you gonna let them take you over that way”

“Great Southern Land, Great Southern Land”

I don’t know if it’s intentional or if Joe just likes the song. But I can’t think of a more fitting song to hear blaring through the bush while trying to right the wrong of February. My spirit lifts from the music and we methodically work our way up to the saddle. I can’t even point out where I got lost last time. It feels great to put that chapter to bed - the progress down to Cone hut is slow but steady.

Cone Hut > Kaitokie

Wtf is that in the water? Looks like larvae … “Emergency water only ..” I forgot all about Kyle's warning from Feb - I hope I didn’t suck in too many of those suckers.… what’s the worst that can happen …ah well plenty of more water in the rivers ahead.

I manage a mix of marching and a shuffley jog. Mindful of not wanting to blow up or bonk. I just need to keep focussed, keep eating and keep putting one foot in front of each other. Tutawai comes and goes. Joe is his normal chipper self, Josh seems a bit quiet at this point. Maybe he is human after all? Maybe he’s just dreaming of another cheese & salami roll. I’m struggling with my headlamp at this point. My second battery apparently wasn't fully charged like I thought.

The bridge takes an age to appear, as it usually does. Now on the other side it feels like we’ve crossed the border back into home territory. I know we’ve broken the back of the mission.. On the home straight.

My temporary repairs of gaffer tape and safety pins come unstuck and start piercing into my neck and shoulder. Joe attempts some running repairs and manages to pull the pins out. Hopefully the strap will hold another hour or so. Josh has walked ahead to keep warm, and suddenly, he's gone.

We burst into a gallop trying to catch up, unknown to us he’s veered off towards the river by Smiths Creek. He is now behind us. So he’s running after us trying to catch us trying to catch him. Who would have thought it would come unstuck at Smiths Creek?

Joe decides there’s no way he’s ahead of us or we would have caught him. We start calling out to Josh but we are too close to the stream and couldn’t hear a thing. We backtrack a way and after a few calls we hear a reply and he pops around the corner. The musketeers are back together and we start moving off again towards the puffer saddle.

I had visions of bounding effortlessly up the final climb. I think they were more delusions. We get to the top and I can feel the glory of the carpark pulling me in. The risk of a blow up is gone. With 20 or so minutes to go I take off at a faster pace. It feels good to be striding out after shuffling along for the last few hours. 1.5K to go. Where were these legs earlier? Down the stairs, through the ropes course and down along the fence. One last burst to get in a tick under 22.40H.

Brooke is there to meet us. Beer and chocolate at the ready. She really is an amazing human.

**Well deserved beers all round in the Carpark of Glory**

Each time I’ve gone on one of these adventures, she has been my number one supporter, late-night/early-morning taxi, and bringer of treats. Hopefully, one day soon, I can return the favour.

A big shout out to Josh & Joe for their patience and amazing spirit. It was an absolute pleasure to share the hills with them for the day … and night.