It was a day much like all the others so far – waking to a pleasant day with the promise of fine weather, only to have our hopes dashed as we headed towards the hills and watched the rain clouds roll in once again.  Today we left the dunes behind and headed south to Onewhero (which is an acronym for Nowhere-O).  It was a torturous drive in on a narrow single lane dirt road with constant twists and turns, with lovely views of typical North Island countryside.  It was very pretty but we were wondering where on earth we were going to park, and how we were going to orienteer without killing ourselves on the steep slopes. There were landslips everywhere following the recent torrential rains brought by the remnants of Cyclone Debbie.

We were directed to park right opposite the Start, over a kilometre away from the arena. As we queued up at the two desultory portaloos propped on the muddy roadside, the first shower came through.  We huddled in the car as we tugged on gaiters, turned on our GPS’s, and checked that we had our SI sticks and compasses.  Then a quick dash to the Start, and through the 6 minute silent start procedure (which means the officials don’t give you any verbal instructions or call you up – it doesn’t mean competitors cant talk to each other).

I took my map and set off optimistically following the tape to the start triangle.  Orientate map, look at first leg, take bearing. Bugger – its taking me straight through a flowing creek. Any alternative? No – looks like wet feet from the get go.  I wade through, then turn to follow the creek and find my first control.  Good start.

Off to no 2, which was very easy to see from a way off.  Doing well.  No 3 is in rock. I look ahead and see a control on a dam wall straight ahead. Check map hopefully, but of course it isn’t mine.  That’s because mine is about 10 contours straight up.  Resignedly I clamber up a muddy grassy slope, grabbing at grass tussocks and hoping to avoid the nettles as I go.  I am not wearing my spikes today as the sole is coming off, and I only have my trail shoes.

Once on top I find the control easily enough as the rock line is easy to read.  Now I have to make my way back down, but there is a tightly strung 6 strand fence in my way, and I cant find a gap big enough to wriggle through. I slide downhill to a fence post where I can manage to get over, then press on to no 4.  I see a control that I know isn’t mine, then continue a bit enthusiastically.  Checking the adjacent fence for gates and bends, I realise I have overshot quite badly and have to retrace my steps.  The flag is easy to see from the departure side!  Five minutes wasted.

From here on it all goes pearshaped when I can’t find no 5. I have been reading the large depressions and using them as my attack point, but the gully I am looking for eludes me.  I retreat to the fence which has become my main navigational tool, line myself up on another bend, and go in again.  Success this time but a lot of time elapsed.  I head off to no 6, glad to be heading towards the finish.  It is very boggy and slippery underfoot and I am scared of falling with almost every step up or down the treacherous slopes.

No 6 is hidden in a cleft between two big cliffs, no trouble finding it but the approach is like a slippery dip as so many people have been through this narrow gap.  I completely miss no 7, climb high to relocate, then have to scramble down again.  By now I am well and truly over the mud, but the worst is yet to come.  I follow another fence along what was once a track but is now a quagmire, then drop down towards the creek for no 8.  People are wading through a swamp.  I see a control a short distance away and decide it is my no 9, but I have to make my way up the creek/marsh to get to it.  To my disgust, its not mine at all and I have to relocate.  I hunt around for a while then spot another control up high.  That’s not mine, its in a gully and mine is on a vegetation boundary.  Hunt for a few more minutes and find nothing.  In desperation I clamber up and discover that it IS mine, and I’ve been ignoring it for ages.

Relief – I only have one more control, then the finish.  If only it were that simple … I have never slid backwards down a finish chute, which was like an ice rink.  Friends were urging me on to no avail.  I crawled up the chute and into the finish tent, grabbed my splits print and promptly threw it in the nearest rubbish bin.  It was not a good day.

After changing out of our disgusting gear and regrouping at the car, we set off for Rotorua, an easy two hour drive south.  We paused at Tuakau for an excellent chocolate mud cake, which seemed appropriate.  We are now in The Glen House – not as swish as Stonefields, but quite nice and comfy.  We have a well earned rest day tomorrow and are off in search of some hot springs.