As vehicles cruise, sometimes rush, into the meeting place an expectant buzz grows as people alight, grab hats, swap shoes for wellies, grab a snack, meet friends, complete entry forms. Vehicles are seldom tidily parked. Sometimes the day’s tracks can be seen winding around hills and vanishing into the unknown. There always seems to be lots of grey imports brightened up by splashes of scintillating shiny colour and chrome aerials flashing in the morning sun.

This particular day, down Dunedin way, didn’t flash the aerials much, being overcast with a wet and fresh southerly that had descended the previous day after a gorgeous and totally suitable week of sunshine and pre-summer temperatures. In fact the weather was a bit of a worry for the organisers of the event. The route went high and the sometime steep tracks were lightly used and showing lots of thick spring grass that could get slippery with rain and lots of wheels. There had been some heavy showers during the setup day making traction marginal in places. It had eased overnight with a drying breeze and only occasional light showers. Jim the landowner was confident it would clear and the tracks dry sufficiently, he was right, proving the value of local knowledge.

Just under 100 participants lined up to be split into two groups with about a dozen marshals sprinkled amongst them. Crews were already stationed around the route to man gates or be prepared for a tow if needed. All crew had radio contact. Two loops were planned that would meet at a common lunch spot and the groups swap tracks for the afternoon. The terrain, all on Moana Station not far from the coast above Dunedin, covered reasonably steep hill country around the catchment area of the southern branch of the Waikouaiti River. One loop followed a long uphill ridge to some expansive views and a steep descent to the river then a trundle down the valley to the lovely lunch spot. This was on a pleasant grassy riverflat where awnings, portable toilets and barbies had been arranged with a busy team from a local school toiling merrily away flipping patties and buttering bread ready for the hungry mob. The other loop clambered over a hill or two nearer the start point, down to the river then over another hill and along some ridges before dropping in for lunch.

The object of the day was to raise funds for the local rescue helicopter trust and was successful in raising over $5000 for it. Not all was from entry fees, much of it came from a raffle and auction held as people munched lunch and held up their burgers or snarlers to bid. Prizes were useful and ranged from clothing to vehicle accessories, first aid kits and even treatments for smelly feet! Perhaps useful for the rural malady, ‘cowpat foot’. Well-known front man Dougal Stevenson drew the raffle and called the auction with excellent splashes of humour and enthusiasm chivvying the crowd to get hands and currency from pockets for this worthy cause that may be needed to rescue any of them one day. Guess that applies to all of us.

The weather slowly improved during the day and was almost perfect for our lunch in this sheltered little valley tightly surrounded by the tall hills we’d come over. For the afternoon the two groups went off in different directions to sample what each other had seen in the morning. The loop I was in began with a very steep climb that foxed a few drivers only metres from the lunch spot. A tight right-hander that instantly climbed away would unload a rear wheel if one went too slowly. A few needed a second attempt. The climb through gorse had plenty of traction. A few wiggles, ziggies and ridges took us down to the rock garden alongside the river. This section comprised a couple of hundred metres of dry lumpy bedrock that had to be taken slowly and carefully and was a good technical driving challenge. A team of guides was on hand to assist with the route.

Navigating the rocks without dinging the danglies under the truck dictated slow pace and careful attention to wheel positioning. Many got it right and many didn’t so the sound of scrapes and scrunches was often heard with winces from the watchers. Most of the vehicles were typical full size 4wds with good clearance and big wheels so only had a problem if the drivers went too fast or did not follow the marshals excellent guidance. A RAV was out of its element here with smallish wheels and no low range. It needed some pushing and cajoling but got through much better than a Ford Territory that really struggled. It was too low and hampered initially by severe lack of traction even though 4WD and supposedly with traction control.

Eventually, after some button pushing and key waggling, the computer poked its head out from wherever it had been hiding and dealt torque to the correct wheels and it moved off the piece of territory it seemed to have claimed as its final resting place. The driver thought the traction wizard was dialed in but it appears that it may default to off each time the ignition is switched, when stalled, for instance, as had happened here. Once that was sorted it screeched and clonked its underpinnings a few times over the worst stretch. Apparently it went okay on the rest of the route and had no shortage of grunt. Unfortunately I never got to hear it romping up a good climb!

So it was an excellent day out with no vehicle maladies. A couple of minor slightly-off-track incidents underlined the amount of care needed in the damper sections and also the skill of the marshals at being in the right place and having the experience to keep things moving
safely. .