SK Tarn Report - Ryan Tait

Pre-pre-pre amble:

It had been over 3 years since I trotted into the Kaitoke ‘Carpark of Glory’ on my first SK, on the valleys route. It was an overwhelmingly enjoyable day out and gave me a lot of confidence in how my body was able to perform over a long haul. A purist at heart, I knew that the next logical step would be levelling up to the Tarn Ridge route, on my way to ticking off all 3 (now 4) main SK routes.

However, due to other focuses, injuries, and generally not getting round to it, I had suddenly found myself in 2026 with the glorious feeling of an SK completion fading into distant memory. An absolute shitter of a year in 2025 inspired an informal New Years resolution to make this year a good one - prioritising achieving goals, having adventures and generally enjoying life the way I like to live it. A return to Putara was definitely a part of this.

Pre-pre-amble:

The recovery from a doozy ankle sprain during my Coast to Coast Longest Day race in February had me thinking I’d missed another opportunity to get it done before winter rolled round. But, after an April full of fun adventures and races, the ankle was starting to feel up to the job and the idea popped back into my head during a particularly pleasant Sunday long run around the Wellington trails. By Tuesday, the long range weather forecast was looking good so now I needed to sort a ride. I flicked a message to my mate Emma, currently out with an injury: “Just floating an idea around my head…have you got any plans this weekend?” The reply came: ”I don’t. Do you need a driver for a mission or something cos I would love to do that.”. A message to the Queen of the SK herself, Olivia Lawence, confirmed that she thought the weather was on, along with plenty of very useful intel and advice. Things were falling into place and by Thursday night I was busily buying carbs, prepping gear and packing bags.

Pre-amble:

I picked Emma up from work on Friday evening and we headed North, deleting a 3 Litre container of fried rice along the way.

Arriving in Putara at about 8:30, I had some last minute gear prep to do, during which I realised that I had accidentally left my no-doz at home. Idiot! This sent me into panic mode briefly but I made a compromise by putting 3 coffee sachets in my pack in case I needed a caffeine hit in the latter stages of the run.

We got some resemblance of a bed organised in the back of the mighty Subaru XV and hit the hay. The usual pre-race/adventure sleepless night ensued and when the 3:15am alarm sounded, my watch had recorded a meagre 3hrs 40mins sleep.

2 PB and J sammies went down the hatch and I was soon into my kit and standing for the obligatory sign photo.

Putara to Arete:

4:06am. I waved goodbye to Emma and I was off, through the little gate and immediately following the beam of my headtorch along the muddy track into the bush. It was a very chilly morning and I was rugged up with a thermal, beanie, gloves and buff.

I tend to struggle a bit with plantar fascia pain after hard, flat run workouts and the 12x400m track session from Tuesday night was making itself known. It usually goes away once it warms up though, and I figured it had plenty of time to do so today!

I was relieved to find the climb to the first track junction much easier than when I’d tramped it with Mark and Zoe a few weeks ago (~15kg less pack weight helps!) and I was soon turning right, Herepai Hut bound. Reaching it at 5:13am, I checked myself against some splits that I had stolen from Joe Murphy’s 19hr44min Tarn SK Report, which was to be my guide for the day. I was 1 minute ahead, a great start!

A quick fill of the soft flasks and I was off up the hill, breaking the bushline for the first time. The temperature instantly plummeted so I stopped to layer on with my jacket. A glance upward at the totally clear night sky explained the cool temps, all the stars made themselves known without the cover of light pollution. The stage was set for a beaut sunrise, which I began to look forward to.

The wet tussock drenched my shorts, socks and shoes and my feet started to numb, but this only gave me a good reason to keep moving. At 6:26, as I reached the top of East Peak, I looked over my shoulder to see the first orange glow appear on the horizon. “Here we go! What have you got in store for me today, Tararua?” I thought.

By the time I reached West peak, I had proper daylight and was able to turn the headtorch off. I stopped for some photos of the sunrise and just soaked in the “high on life’ feeling for a bit.

I made good time travelling along the ridge between West peak and Mt Dundas, excited to pass the turn off to Dundas hut, as I was now trotting along one of the few parts of the route that were new to me. A time check at Mt Dundas revealed that I was 4mins down, a nice confirmation that I was pacing it well. Unfortunately I managed to cop one of the Brocket Rocks straight to one of my ankle bones, which hurt like a b***h, but fortunately it was to be balanced out with another one to the opposite ankle many hours later. Reaching the little orange Arete Hut, it was time for an early morning smoko while I refilled my flasks and scribbled in the hut book. There was a misty cloud starting to hang around which I thought looked quite cool and moody. Little did I know it was about to become the theme for the day.

Arete to Powell:

Setting off again, it didn’t take long for the thickening clag to present its first challenge as I briefly started taking the wrong spur off point 1389. I very quickly realised my mistake and sideled back onto the ridge but it was enough to put me on alert and I made sure to check the map when I reached the turn off to Tarn Ridge itself. I was relieved to arrive at the Waiohine Pinnacles, one of the gnarlier sections in the whole range, without having sighted any ice and also with the wind staying at a moderate level. The travel through here was easy and I was soon jogging along the open tops of Tarn Ridge. Before I knew it, I crested a peak to see Tarn Ridge Hut sitting pretty in a brief gap in the cloud. It looked particularly good to my eyes, having earmarked it as where I would have (or at least fetch out of my pack) my lunch. Checking my splits to see that I was 13mins ahead of pace gave me a good bit of motivation to have a quick turn around; filling my flasks, making a hut book entry and retrieving 2x BBQ Pinwheels from my pack. I collected 750ml of water to get me through to Powell - 250ml less than planned but with the coolness of the day, I wasn’t drinking that much.

Setting off up the hill through ice-covered tussock, whilst stuffing my face with white bread, the body was beginning to show some signs of fatigue from the 7hrs on the go. So I put my head down, bum up, and soon wandered past the summit pole of Girdlestone and over the other side to find the spur leading to Adkin. However, as I started heading down it something didn’t feel right and I couldn’t find the ground trail. Checking the map, I decided I must’ve been on the spur that points directly at Mitre, so I sidled round to one I could see further West. But alas, this one didn’t have a ground trail either, just some big scrambly rocks that made for awkward travel around. After 10mins or so squinting at the map and peering into the clag, I decided to cut my losses and retrace my steps back up to the top. Once I did, I immediately noticed my mistake - the big spur I had assumed was Dorset Ridge was actually the one I was after and I had just walked straight past it. Idiot.

Re-grouping as I headed for Adkin, I was a bit frustrated to lose a decent chunk of time after I had been going so well. I knew I had to make it up so I took on some nutrition and got to work. At least the incliment weather wasn’t providing any want to stop and admire the view. Through the Kings with no trouble, I was now on the only other section of uncharted territory for me as I tackled the Broken Axe Pinnacles. I could see what Olivia was meaning about not wanting any ice, that sidle track is no joke!. After taking an awkward (unplanned) sidle around McGregor peak, I spotted the sign for the Bivvy through the clag. What surprised me though, was the figure standing next to it! 10 hours on the go and I had finally encountered another soul. I stopped for a quick chat. He had heard about the SK and didn’t seem to harbour any jealousy for what I woud be doing as he cozied up in the Biv for the night. How strange.

As I turned off Angle knob, my body was growing increasingly insistent about the need to drop some weight. I found a handy bush to do so and was soon galloping along the flat tops with huge relief, just in time before I hit the highway that is the Jumbo-Holdsworth circuit. I passed many groups of friends, all of whom looked like they had just taken up a hobby that wasn’t going to last much longer. One girl even asked how long it was to Jumbo. I put my blindfold on and threw a dart - “maybe an hour?”.

It was nice to be on very familiar ground, albeit a fair way off the pace that I target for the JHTR. It was also very nice to know that I would soon be out of the Pea soup and into the bush - a welcome thought at this point. Upon reaching Powell and resisting the urge to photobomb 2x timelapse setups, I knocked out another quick transition on the deck while having a chat with a hut-stayer. It turned out there was a Brass band gig about to kick off in the hut! It made me seriously consider ditching this whole SK thing and joining the fun, but I slapped myself out of it and carried on.

Powell to Cone:

As I begun the stair-infested descent from the hut and into the bush, my legs, which had cooled down during the stop, were beginning to feel a bit worse for wear. My knees began to grumble as I chewed away at an early dinner - another 2 BBQ pinwheels. My spirits were soon lifted, though, when I heard a familiar voice down the track. Jack Thomson and his partner, Tess, were heading up to Powell for the party. It was great to chat to them and hear their surprise when I told them that I wasn’t just doing the Jumbo Holdsworth loop but actually halfway through an SK. “You look like you’ve hardly left the house!”.

Reinvigorated by this comment, I took off down hill and held a solid pace all the way along the runnable track to the Totara Flats turnoff.

I had decided that it would be great to get to the next hut before sunset so that I could use the last scraps of daylight to run the river flats with. But it soon became apparent that this was going to be a stretch, especially when my right knee launched a serious protest as I turned onto the Totara Creek track and began the rough, rooty descent. By the time I burst out onto the large swingbridge near the hut at 5:40pm, my headtorch was well and truly in use. The good news, though, was that 14hrs in, I was still 4mins ahead of my splits. Bang on track.

Nevertheless, I planned to only have a very brief stop at the hut to fill my soft flasks before cracking on. Quickly ducking inside, the large, warm hut was full of happy trampers busily preparing their nice-smelling dinners. I escaped back onto the deck before temptations had a chance to enter my head and wandered over to the south side of the hut clearing to find the track. But all I could see was bush. Hmmm. I checked the map. It looked like the track went off the northern side of the hut. Nothing there either. Maybe if I head back along the track I'll find a turn off? Nope.

I could sense the eyeballs of all those comfortable trampers looking out the hut window, watching this weirdo in running gear walking around in circles in the dark. I panicked and ran down to the river. I’ll just wander downstream a little and then bush bash back to the track, easy peasy! It was not. After what seemed like an eternity of walking through the - thankfully thin - riverside fringe, I still hadn’t intersected the track. Even more worrying, I started hearing the river in my left ear again. Growing increasingly frustrated, I turned until the sound of water was directly behind me and all but sprinted through the bush, finally bursting out onto the track with a sigh of relief.

Once again, my effort was fueled by frustration as I settled into a solid pace, following the beam of my headtorch along the narrow trail through grassy river flats.

The cone saddle turn off really took its time to make an appearance, but when it finally did, I had 2 caffeine gels worth of the good stuff pumping through my veins and I was ready to take it on. I activated my orange triangle spotting eyes and set to. The track climbs fairly steeply away from the river initially, before taking you on a rollercoaster ride that is every bit mental as it is physical. It teasaingly descends, only to climb sharply again, swerves right to left, left to right, crosses a few streams, meanders through some grass before finally settling in on a steady, benched incline. Unfortunately for me, after almost 15 hours on the go, my apetite for this kind of rollercoaster was…well, low.

So, I developed a new mental strategy: Instead of getting frustrated or despondent about the fact that my target landmark didn’t seem to be getting any closer, I just removed any expectation that it would ever appear at all. For all it was worth, the Cone Saddle sign was on Mars. But I was quite happy to keep putting one foot in front of the other out of pure spite for whoever put it there.

It seemed to work. Before I knew it, Murphy’s Law prevailed and the green and yellow DOC sign pointing to Cone Hut stood in front of me.

I was pleased to discover that the uncoordinated time estimates in the Bermuda Cone Triangle had been remedied and soon, the weathered walls of Cone Hut appeared in my torch beam. I stopped in for a water refill and time check - 4mins ahead! I could hear some movement inside the hut. Then, the door opened and a young voice called out: “Excuse me…what are you doing?”. I popped my head around the corner to see a young boy and his Dad in the doorway as a wave of warmth and smoky fire smell hit me. I was seriously missing out on this one. A quick explanation of what I was up to seemed to satisfy the young fella’s curiosity so I was soon on my way down the track, munching away at the triple-choc cookietime that I had been saving for the latter stages of the run.

Cone to Kaitoke:

I found the knee pain that was still bugging me was not too bad on flat, runnable trails. Which was a relief because that’s just about all that was left in the final 19km. I had good memories of this section from my valleys SK and I set out to repeat them as I lengthened my stride and settled into a nice rhythm, dancing around the tree roots and mud bogs as I went. Soon enough, my headtorch beam revealed the Tutawai Hut clearing and I congratulated myself for not needing to boost up the steep set of steps for a water refill this time round. The clamber up the bank at Slip stream was a reminder of the day's effects on the pins and I started to wonder how I was going to fair up the last major obstacle of the day, Puffer Saddle.

From here, the Tauherenikau death march began proper. It was after 9pm and although my rough, untrustworthy time-split maths appeared to have me making good time, it seemed to be dragging on and on. I put to work my new mental strategy which helped to dissociate from the tedium and distract me from a burning desire to spot the Smith Creek bridge. I may have overdone it slightly when I did finally lay eyes on it and exclaimed out loud: “Holy shit, it does actually exist!” Fortunately there was no one around to witness me going completely psycho.

Crossing this sweet, sweet piece of infrastructure and feeling the well-groomed trail under my feet was uplifting to say the least. I broke into a jog and soon made it to Smith Creek Shelter for a pitstop and time check. It was 9:59pm. I was almost 30mins ahead of schedule with not much more than an hour to go. It was in the bag. The only question now was how much faster I could go. I kept a good pace along the flat but as the gradient started to pitch upwards, the engine began to sputter. Without the motivation of any impending time pressure, the tug of war between mental power and physical pain started to favour the latter and I was reduced to a trudge.

The climb seemed to take forever but by the time I had reached the clay steps, I had convinced myself that I must reach Puffer saddle by 11pm or the world was going to end. It was going to be a close call so I got a wriggle on and raised to a full sprint (or as close to it as possible) up the final section of rutted clay track. I can’t actually remember whether or not I made it in time but that doesn’t matter, it served its purpose and I was soon on the descent, looking down on the Carpark of Glory below. The drizzle earlier had made the clay trechourous and I had one or two full wipeouts, but was lucky enough to bounce. I really enjoy this section of flowy trail and was grateful to have enough left in the tank to get pretty sendy and enjoy myself. The last track intersection marked the start of one final, patella-bashing descent which I had to take fairly gingerly. The high ropes course of the YMCA centre came into view and I let out a holler. Striding out into the Carpark, I touched the sign, stopped my watch and shook Dad’s hand. Job done!

Sitting down in the back of the car, I made my way through what I could of the 4 pizzas, garlic bread and L&P Dad had brought, while recounting the highs and lows of the day to him and Emma (once we had woken her up). It didn’t take long for my body to completely stiffen up and I could soon hardly walk. We rearranged the car for a few (more successful) hours of kip before making our way back to town.

Needless to say, I’m pretty stoked to have snuck this in before Winter and also fairly proud of the time I posted given the conditions and a few mistakes along the way. A massive thanks to all that made this possible, but in particular: Emma for the drop off/pickup, Olivia Lawrance for the last minute intel, Dad for the coming out to see me finish, and the rest of the BSR Whanau who provide the inspiration to do this crazy shit in the first place. Next up, Main Range!!

Splits/Stats:

Location

Goal Splits

Actual Time

Diff.

Putara (Start)

4:06am

4:06am

0:00

Herepai Hut

5:14am

5:13am

• 0:01

East Peak

6:16am

6:27am

+0:11

Dundas

8:28am

8:32am

+0:04

Arete Hut

9:17am

9:19am

+0:02

Tarn Ridge Hut

11:06am

10:53am

-0:13

Adkin

12:19pm

12:30pm

+0:11

Baldy

1:24pm

1:24pm

0:00

Angle Knob

2:22pm

2:25pm

+0:03

Jumbo

2:51pm

2:54pm

+0:03

Powell Hut

4:00pm

3:56pm

-0:04

Totara Flats Hut

5:49pm

5:45pm

-0:04

Cone Hut

8:17pm

8:13pm

-0:04

Smith Creek Shelter

10:28pm

9:59pm

-0:29

Kaitoke (Finish)

11:50pm

11:21pm

-0:29

Total

19:44 hrs

19:15 hrs

-0:29

Fuel Consumed:

3x Vitasport Sachets-90g

3x Raro Sachets - 225g

1x Precision 90g gel

3x pure gels - 114g/80mg caffeine

6 Sis gels - 132g

4 flemings muesli bars - 72g

6 homemade energy bars - 240g

Half pack of gingernuts - 100g

4x bbq pinwheels -184g

1x cookietime cookie - 53g

Half bag bbq rice crackers - 90g

Total:

1390g (72g per hour)

Spare/Unused:

4 gels

3 coffee sachets

1 Raro sachet