By Micah Langham, 23 August 2025
Tongariro Four Craters – A realistic success story
The plan was simple: meet up on Saturday with our party of eleven, drive north to Tongariro, stay a night at Mangatepopo hut, spend the next day following Eder’s marked red-line around the four craters, then reverse and come home on Monday.
Simple plans are often good. But when Eder fell ill with bronchitis a week out, worries grew. Speaking for myself, I had no prior experience in the snow. The number of times I’d been in snow could be counted on the prongs of a fork, and when I say snow, I mean a thin layer of white icy stuff that till this point had been exciting enough to classify as ‘proper’. Boogie boarding on sand dunes was really the best analogue I had to what snow might be like.
Fortunately, I didn’t need to have seen it for myself. I read “Going Up is Easy” by New Zealand mountaineer Lydia Bradey earlier in the year, gaining a large amount of second-hand mountain experience. No, far from true. I knew enough to know the mountains were dangerous, but very little of how to keep myself safe.
So, like the underdog in a sports film I got to work. Except unlike the underdog in a sports film I did no actual physical movement, instead watching skilled mountaineers on YouTube teach me how to self-arrest. I also befriended the avalanche forecasts, and whilst I lacked real world experience, I became a little more familiar with what conditions the forecasters deemed safe.
Saturday
With a big drive ahead of us, we set off early from carpark at 7am. No…. a miscommunication meant Tram, Robyn and I had an hour to enjoy the sunrise over Wellington. Gradually the rest of the party trickled in, and we were joined by Louis, Micheal, Daniel, Conner, Imogen, Leo and Elsie. By the time the final few had arrived, and cars were loaded to go, it was a little after 8.
The drive up was relatively uneventful. Pleasant conversation filled the car I was in, broken only by some compulsory (and always enjoyable) gumboot throwing in Taihape.
Pulling into the off-season great-walk carpark we were a little surprised by the number of cars, but brushed it off, optimistically attributing them to hordes of day walkers. After a short period of fluffing about and awkwardly attaching crampons and ice axes to packs, we were off. It felt good to walk. That is after all what tramping is all about. This body-moving, open-air-breathing enjoyment was short lived however, as almost as soon as we began, we arrived at the hut. With a party of now 10 members, it was a good thing to be aiming for a large 20 bunk hut. One can be confident that in the middle of winter there will never be more than 10 others at such a secluded and inaccessible hut as Mangatepopo. Surely no one else would brave the 20-minute slog or stoop low enough to spend a night in a hut with such simple amenities as solar lighting and separated bunk rooms. No one would. Except for the eleven Wellington High School boys, and the family of five with three toddlers, and the group who were tenting out the back… and us. The maths didn’t quite work out, but fortunately people were kind, and we all settled down happily enough for a cozy and toasty nights sleep.
Sunday
We woke early, ready to ascend. After a quick reccy the night before we knew the snowline was a long way off and that the first part of the morning was to be pleasant rocky walking. With light winds and no clouds above us yet, we made good time and were soon reaching snow. Ice axes and helmets were donned and we went on, looking for a suitable slope to practice self-arrests. For those unfamiliar with the technique of “self-arrest” (as I was until a few weeks prior to the trip), it is essentially a last-ditch effort to save oneself from sliding off a mountain side, typically using an ice axe as an emergency brake into the snow. It also happens to be tremendously good fun. Most of the group knew what they were doing already, but for those of us who didn’t, we settled down for a bit of practice. I practiced with gusto, sliding in all possible positions, grinning and wondering to myself how I’d missed out on the joy of snow for so long. We did have a mountain to climb though, and with the clouds moving in we set off up the ridge.
Morale was high when we soon stopped again, with now-leader Daniel (stepped in in place of Eder) deciding it was time to fit crampons. Our feet were now spiked and encouraged by our newfound grip we set off again. Whilst stoke was high, some question of the conditions and of our collective ability remained. With stories of mountaineer’s fatal climbs rattling in my head, I was grateful that those I was with shared similar sense and could recognise where experience was lacked. Sensible decision making didn’t water down the stoke however, and with consideration we continued in high spirits, skirting up and around the west side of the mountain, aiming for the first of the four craters – the ‘North Crater’.
Whilst our hearts may have been warm, bodies did begin to cool. The forecasted nor-easterlies wrapped themselves over the crest above and slid their way into us. A mild, but relentless drizzle of rain and sleet began to work its way into clothing, joining forces with the wind to efficiently drop body temperatures. I felt fortunate in this moment to have borrowed some good waterproof gloves from my dad; those who were missing this luxury began to get very cold fingers. All was well enough for now, but if the weather didn’t improve, we were all aware we may have to reconsider Eder’s now seemingly ambitious route.
Around midday we made our way onto the saddle between the North Crater and Tongariro’s summit. Without the small shelter of the slope above us, the wind immediately bit us hard. A short deliberation behind a mound of snow determined that any crater sightseeing would be futile and would likely cost us Louis’s fingers anyway. Enjoyment was prioritised over ambition. Deterring us further from the craters was our increasingly hungry stomachs, and the prospect of sitting long enough to eat lunch in the ceaseless wind and rain.
Just as the weather has turned me around many times before, it turned us around at this point. The wind doesn’t care at all, nor will it ever. There’s never any use wishing it didn’t blow like it did. “Success” when tramping is a funny thing anyway. Morale was high, snow was trodden in, adventure was had. We were winners in my books.
Much further down, below the snowline and out of the wind and rain, we sat on rocks and enjoyed lunch. It was noted that there were at least six sticks of salami between us – a great choice.
We arrived back to an empty hut and settled down for a comfortable evening of hot food and card games. We reflected at this time on the day that had been, largely feeling positive about the fun we’d had, but also noting the importance of clear communication and waterproof gloves (areas we felt could be improved on in future trips).
Monday
The clouds had blown over and the mountain lay before us in all its glory. The only missions of today were to find hot pools and to get home. I can gladly report back that both were achieved. The sun shone, and Warou flitted overhead as we sat, feeling grateful, in the Tokaanu Thermal Pools. After a short explore of the bubbling mud and geothermal pools, we drove on to Taihape for lunch. Pies and pastries were eaten, coffee was drunk, gumboots were once again thrown. We eventually left for home, arriving back with the sun still up and a whole evening to unpack, clean gear and relax.
