28 April 2007

Piha Valley Track

page 5

A bright orange fungus grabs my attention

The track is narrowing still further and the hillside is quite steep. I certainly wouldn't be that keen on straight up or down venturing. Famous last words.

Koromiko, another one of my favourite companions along the track, not least when it's flowering.

It's a narrow and somewhat rutted track but I'm almost reluctant to see the blacktop take over right here. There's a fine line between bush and park.

It's started to spit slightly, and I inadvertently get a drop or two on the UV filter that fronts my lens. Down below on the left we can see the tops of trees, and soon enough we reach the junction with Centennial Track and the official end of this one.

But rather than end things with the Black Rock Dam so close, we'll head on down, and you can stand a bit of repetition when I write up the Centennial Track. For all of my timewasting, I've made it this far in just 15 minutes over ARC time.

We start off in encouraging fashion — I am encouraged, anyhow.

Soon enough it begins to show its true colours. This shot was taken post descent. A closer look, say, on the spot, will reveal just how smooth many of the protruding tree roots have become from frequent handling.

Alice thinks nothing of it of course, and I have to admit I don't think much of it either. I haul her back from investigating something off to the side. Distractions I can do without.

Civilised track for a few metres, and then some more picking my way carefully:

Voices below. Alice rushes off to investigate.

Hello, what have we here. The curse of Epsom, Erigeron karvinskianus.

Across the way, the black rock after which, presumably, the original dam was named plunges almost vertically into the gorge.

On a smaller scale, and closer to hand a smooth exposed root helps me down another metre.

This is territory that might perhaps be daunting to anyone without at least some ability to clamber. Fortunately, there is not very much of it, and who knows, in a week or two, there may be steps of the kind that enable access to the Kitekite Falls down the last hundred metres of steep descent.

I reach the bottom without further incident. Alice has made friends with a group of teenagers who have come down Forbes Track and are at a bit of a loss as to which track leads down the valley. I am able to direct them accurately, but the absence of signage could be a problem.

Dams such as this were a feature of milling a century ago. The waters set loose from the tripped dam would take with them down to the coast the felled logs that had been manoeuvered into their path. Not much is left now. Even the stoutest and hardest timbers vanish in short order. (It's a revelation to visit Denniston on the South Island's West Coast, which was abandoned not fifty years ago by nearly all its inhabitants and see just how little is left of a once busy township.)

Across the stream, the Centennial Track heads up towards Anawhata Rd.

Lunch, at last. Hot milky coffee and a couple of healthy rolls. I have a hunt round to check for signs I might have missed. Nothing. An email to ARC is probably indicated.

The trip back to the carpark is uneventful, and with few stops for photography, I make it in 51 minutes against the advertised 90. Not bad for the elderly and stout such as I. though I'd have to admit it's mostly downhill. Even Alice is ready to stop by the time I reach the van, and the Steinie is frosty-cold in the fridge. According to the Latin poet Virgil, fear lends wings to the feet. Today, perhaps, it's beer, not fear.