The day my luck nearly ran out on a cold Tararua ridgeline

Twenty-three people have died in the Tararua Range since 1970, but for every death there will be many close calls. Marty Sharpe recalls the day his luck almost ran out.

OPINION: Speak to anyone who's run into trouble on the peaks and, chances are, they'll recall with clarity the moment they knew they were in danger.

It feels like it's just jumped out at you, like it's suddenly appeared. But you know it's been alongside you for sometime.

How hard is it to get in trouble on the peaks?

* 'You can't stand up': Why Tararua Range is a hazard even for experienced trampers
* The lure of the wild and what it is that draws some people into the hills alone
* Search for Darren Myers reveals days of love, hope and loss
* Body of missing tramper Darren Myers found in Tararua Range
* Trampers warned about the dangers of underestimating the Tararua Range

It's not hard. In fact, looking back, or from an uninformed distance, the mistakes that lead to danger appear so obvious as to be elemental. At least, in my case.

In the autumn of 2006 me and three mates had a very close shave in the same area that Darren Myers was found dead this week. 

We spent a night in the open on the peaks in a cold mist which, had it turned to rain, I've no doubt would have seen at least one of us perish.

Like Myers, we had set out on the Northern Crossing from the Ohau River, east of Levin.

We were reasonably fit, we were well equipped and our experience levels ranged from a lot to not much.

The first day's hike is a gruelling climb to Te Matawai Hut. It was sunny. We started late-ish, took our time, and arrived at nightfall. Comfortably knackered, we were.

First mistake: we were in no rush to start day two. We knew it was a five-hour walk across the tops to Tarn Ridge Hut - easier than the previous day, we thought. The weather was overcast but not too bad, and we didn't head out until mid-morning.

It was a fair climb to the summit of Pukematawai (1432m), over Arete (1505m) and across to the two-bunk Arete bivvy, which - due to the thick mist - we more or less stumbled upon.

The bivvy was the last place Myers was known to have been. He sent a text message to his wife from here on the morning of May 30.

Second mistake: we entered the bivvy, brewed a tea and had a bite to eat. I recall looking at my watch as we left the bivvy and being surprised at how much later in the day it was than I'd thought. I don't recall the time.

We carried on, through the mist. We came across the occasional metal standard, but the track was by no means clear. The mist meant our outerwear was damp, but it was not windy and we were not overly uncomfortable.

We crossed an unnamed 1389m peak, continuing along a ridge heading south. There were plenty of patches of snow.

Third mistake: this was the major one, and I was responsible. We came to a point where the ridge split in two, left and right. We stopped here and had a brief discussion about which way to go. There were no obvious markers.

I said I thought the ridge to the left was Pinnacle Spur, which led east and down to Arete Forks (downstream of where Myers' body was found), and I thought the other was Tarn Ridge and the track to Tarn Ridge hut.

It wasn't Tarn Ridge, it was actually the eastern flank of Lancaster (1504m). As we climbed, I recall looking for boot marks or cairns, or anything that marked it as the track. I remember thinking the track wasn't very clear, but it wasn't until we got to a point where there was nowhere else to go - the summit - that I knew I'd stuffed up.

It was at this point that I - we - started to panic. I looked at my watch again and knew we were now definitely in trouble. It was late afternoon and we would not have a lot of daylight left. One of our members was starting to get cold. We scrambled briefly to see if there was any sign of a track, before it dawned on me that we had taken a wrong turn after our brief stop.

We back-tracked then headed south along what I had thought was Pinnacle Spur, but was actually the Waiohine Pinnacles, an exposed and craggy section of the track requiring hands and feet.

At this point we became increasingly worried about the chap who was cold and shivering. We knew we would not make the hut and I recall a brief discussion with one of the other members who wanted to find somewhere to hunker down. I wanted to continue to a less steep part of the ridge, where we might be able to descend to the bushline to find shelter.

(We had two cellphones but did not use either at this time. Possibly because we didn't have reception, or that we knew there was not much point. I don't remember. We had one torch between us. Today when making our annual boys' trip we all carry phones and head torches and we take a personal locator beacon - which were around in 2006, but not common.)

By this stage dusk was approaching. We continued south, coming to a flatter section of ridge, I'd say about 2km north of Tarn Ridge hut. We dropped off the ridge on the eastern side, eventually coming to the top of a steep face. We found the flattest bit of ground we could between patches of snow, with a few leatherwood shrubs as shelter.

The mist was still in the air. Everything was damp. I don't remember much being said, but - and we've spoken about this since - we all knew that if the weather got any worse, if it began raining even lightly, the cold would be something we may not cope with.

We rolled out our sleeping bags and took stock. I shared my bag with the cold chap, who by this stage was certainly hypothermic. We had a quick bite to eat, and a cup of Milo from memory, then made the sort of jokes people make in these situations in a bid to make it feel vaguely normal.

We didn't sleep much. But the rain never came. I'll not ever forget seeing the orange underside of distant clouds as the sun rose the next day. We'd made it.

It was a stunning morning. We walked to Tarn Ridge Hut and spent the day drying our gear and warming up. The weather then packed in again and we spent the next three days stuck in that hut, but that's another story.