Growing Old and Pacing Yourself - of Mountains and Valleys.

This February marked the opening of a print exhibition I shared with two other artists (potter and a painter) at Darfield. It was stressful because I worried excessively about how the glassed and framed works would survive the air trip from Hamilton - they did.

Paradise - the Upper Waimakariri

After the opening and catching up with friends I made the most of my presence in the South Island and took off for the hills about Arthur's Pass for a few days with Mike White and Jim Wilson, 'old' climbing friends for more than sixty-five years. Sadly, Dave Elphick, the other of our climbing 'quartet', passed away a little while ago.

We spent much of the time based at Rough Creek Shambles, the Wilson family batch at the 'Pass'. From there we did day trips to the Upper Otira Valley, to the top of Avalanche Peak and had a three day excursion to the Pfieffer Bivi to the west of Arthur's Pass. There were heaps of stories from the past and we managed to even repeat a few of them during our trip! And the others would politely wait until you'd finished before telling you you'd told it two days ago!!

Mike and Jim

The Rocky Knoll

One of the Pfieffer Basins

Pfieffer Bivi

The highlight was probably our trip to Pfieffer. Apart from the return day the weather was magnificent and we spent the middle day resting and taking photos of the surrounds. The big lesson for us was finding that our times were more than double the guide book times. The suggested 4-6hrs in to Pfieffer took us close to 11hrs. This was a wake-up for us who (it seemed only a few years ago) prided ourselves on doing trips well under suggested times.

Our trip up the Otira Valley was full of memories - joint memories of both joy and sadness. It is still one of our favourite valleys.

In the Upper Otira Valley

And then there was a great lunch with John (Jim's brother) and Ash - full of good stories from Ash - and us. Isn't it great when folk who know one another well, get together - there is never a lost word.
And everywhere about Arthur's Pass was the hyperactivity of the Coast to Coast - in full swing as we climbed Avalanche - more memories.

We nearly didn't make it to the summit of Avalanche Peak - managed it by having a good rest and adjusting our pace downwards. On top it was like the United Nations - young back packers from Israel, France, Norway, Sweden, Denmark, Switzerland, Holland, Germany, America, United Kingdom, several from Asia and a few Kiwis. And they were just the ones we found out about. All good company - as is usual when you meet like-minded folk in the mountains.

Slowly Upwards Towards Avalanche Peak

Edelweiss

Little Leafed Celmisia

A Kea scans our lunch with a wicked eye.

Mt Rolleston and Crow Neve from Avalanche Peak

We didn't seem to be going slowly - the others were just faster and the clock wasn't fibbing. I guess that out average age of over 82 had something to do with it. But we enjoyed ourselves and felt pleased with our achievements. Still planning more get-togethers in the mountains.

Here is a quote from something I read about 65 years ago :

… he who loves the mountains for themselves and for their eternal beauty will never grudge them their everlasting youth. He will turn to them again and again, knowing they will never fail him. And when he can no longer do more than lift his eyes to the hills he will still find that the promised strength is unfailing – not strength of body but of spirit, garnered from long days in nature’s tranquillity and peace.

Andre Roche “On Rock and Ice”

David Julian Elphick 1935-2018 - Recollections

Very early in 2018 an old climbing mate, Dave Elphick, from over 60 years ago, died in UK. His death set me musing about our past. I've cut and pasted it here as a tribute to him.

"Where to begin with you, Dave?  I've thought a bit about it and think it best to just start at the beginning.

After Pat Barcham mentioned that you, Jim Wilson and Mike White were looking for a climber to make a four – "Quartet" – you and I decided to do a familiarization trip together. The plan was to climb Rolleston and descend the Jellicoe Ridge as far as we could towards the Waimakariri River. We didn't quite make it to Mt Stewart (only Guinevere) and only just made our way down the bluffs into the lower Crow. In the dark we stumbled down the lower Waimak to Klondyke Corner and up to the Pass. It was a hell of a long day.

But we'd started before that. On the way to Arthurs Pass, at Springfield, while we waited for the train engine to shunt things about we went for a run – in our mountaineering boots. We both knew how to run and some 20 minutes later had the measure of each other. Back to the climb. 

Long Whisper

(for David Elphick)

We traverse the skyline

plunge down the last ridge

now cloud from the west

shuts down the stars

water from the last crossing

warms in our boots

brings a niggle of river gravel

even talk chafes at the edges

and the gravity of a long day

drags heavy on shutters of vision

we stumble moonless down valley

bump shoulders  again and again

feel the long whisper of water

the comfort of mountain talk.

Soon we were planning our first big trip into the Southern Alps. Preparing the gear and food we enthusiastically gave ourselves nicknames – after our heroes. There was Andre (.. Roche the French climber) – you, Dave; Jim was Willy after the German Himalayan climber, Willy Merkl; Mike became Heinrich after Heinrich Harrer – the Eiger climber; and I ended up as Herr Schmid after the Schmid brothers. The names have stuck for over sixty years!

Dave on Red Lion Traverse

Dave on Summit of Red Lion Peak

Our first long trip was into the Arrowsmiths and the Rakaia. There were many climbs but one with you stands out. You and I decided to climb Red Lion but, because of the big schrund below Red Lion Col decided to traverse to the col from Full Moon Saddle (ahh, those place names) – we climbed both Red Lion peaks but the big memory is of that traverse – one of the steepest I remember – cutting steps all the way – even with crampons – and worst of all the flying rocks – the ones we heard and never saw. And then on the return was the schrund below Red Lion Col – we definitely didn't want to go back across the face beneath Pascoe's 'piece de resistance'. So we jumped the schrund! You went first and I followed onto the lower lip. It was quite a drop and you managed to get a chip of ice in the eye. I bandage you up and you managed to do the next few days – and eventually down the Evans Glacier with one eye – not easy.

Dave on the Crux of Hicks

Dave sussing the Crux on Hicks

Next year our big effort was up the La Perouse Glacier behind Mt Cook. We had some wonderful climbs there but the one that stands out for me was our first ascent of the North Face of Hicks (or David's Dome as it was called). You led the crux of the climb and, sharing the lead, we struggled on (in good weather) reaching the top in time to see the lights of the Hermitage down below in the evening gloom. All night we shivered side by side in the cold as a storm developed, and struck at dawn. It amazed me that we managed to get down. For days all of us had cursed your long length of rappelling line and then at the crux of the descent amid hail and wind you pulled it out of your pack and saved our lives. We just made it back to the snow cave before we expired! Our journey back over the main divide to the Hermitage and the waitress from Bondi Beach was an epic in itself.

Our next season was ambitious – we planned to pack our gear over Teichelmann and climb everything in the Balfour! It was not to be. We were chased out of the Linda by a frightening ice avalanche and then the weather closed in. Just as it was clearing many days later we were summoned to help rescue another climber from the bottom of a crevasse. You and I were lowered into it and there, on the bedrock of the glacier, you splinted his broken femur. It all ended well and you were mentioned in dispatches for the amazing job you'd done. We had even greater ambitions for the following year – everything was directed towards one climb – a traverse of Tasman to Cook. It was not to be – having traversed Lendenfeldt we were turned back by the huge schrund on the north shoulder of Tasman. There were other climbs Dave. We had a great climb with Jim and Ivan, climbing Aspiring in a two-day weekend from Christchurch – one of those crazy things we set ourselves.

Dave at Chancellor Hut

Terry and Dave in Christchurch - This Time Dave Was Stonkered

You really get to know people when you live with them. I got to know you in huts, in tents, shivering together on mountain-tops and glacial moraines – to say nothing of the ice faces, gorges, dry riverbeds and aspiring ridges. You were a great companion during all those formative times – organized - prepared - disciplined – safe – energetic – thorough – generous and always seeking and striving. I often thought it was your thoroughness and intensity that held you back in some ways – probably from a good career in medicine.  But these characteristics served you well in your distinguished career in male psychiatric nursing. Like the other members of our 'Quartet' I loved you like a brother – and then suddenly you had to leave your three brothers - and your sisters and Terry of course.  Great journey, Dave."

Early Climbing Days - Eight - Mt Hicks (North Face) 1957

North Face of Hicks - route marked (Photo DJE)

Mt Hicks proved to be a bit of an epic. Time was running out for our climbing season based in the snow cave we'd inherited and enlarged on the upper neve of the La Perouse Glacier, to the west of Aorangi/Mt Cook in the summer of 1956/7. We did some great climbs from this base so we decided at the end on an attempt on the, then unclimbed, north face of Mt Hicks. The weather was fine as we dropped from our snow cave and sidled south towards the base of the face. We'd intended to climb as far up as possible using the snow but a threat of ice- and rockfall from above had us scampering over towards the the base of the first rib on the face. We arrived on the rib about two or three rope lengths above its base and roped up.

At first there was nothing too difficult about the rock, but after a few hundred feet the big nose on the rib appeared more ominous. Jim Wilson and Mike White were ahead when we reached it and were investigating a shallow gully immediately to the left of the 'nose'. When Dave Elphick and I caught up they were scratching about on what seemed to be a steep smooth ice-worn part of a gully – and voicing doubts about its feasibility.

BLS on Lower Rib (Photo DJE)

We elected to investigate the rock further away from the ridge crest and soon found ourselves in a chimney, which offered a good belay point. Dave climbed on above me in the chimney and, discovering a route, backed down and traversed horizontally out onto a little face where he put in another belay – a good lead, given our ‘all purpose’ footwear of the time. I climbed through and extended our progress until we were above Jim and Mike. It was now getting late and via a lot of shouting into the cloudless sky we decided to separate, Jim and Mike electing to descend while Dave and I were lured on by our position above the crux and the clear weather.

We climbed onto the crest of the rib and continued, sharing the lead and leapfrogging belays up what was a superb rock arête, at times narrow, at others offering airy ledges and diagonally slanting open chimneys. Towards the top we sidled left and the afternoon was over when we finally reached the Dampier-Hicks ridge. A short scamper on crampons along the ridge took us to the summit soon after the sun set. The lights of the Hermitage shone up through the gloom of the Hooker Valley. It was 8pm and we were in for a night out. Despite the clear sky, a cool breeze had sprung up and we settled down behind a little rock sangre, rapidly built in the last of the light. We had no warm gear other than our jerseys and parkas; we tucked our feet and lower legs into our roomy Mountain Mule packs. The night was spent shivering, turning every few minutes to give relief to our outer sides and checking the time.

Our equanimity was disturbed about four in the morning as the moon rose beyond Dampier and we could see hog’s backs starting to form nearby over Mt Cook. The wind was steadily rising. At four we switched on our torches and nervously made our way back down the ridge to the top of our rib. Here we awaited dawn and enough light to climb. Right on the cue of dawn the storm struck. We had no choice but to go down and from the very start the rocks iced up. Every foot placement was deliberate and the wind, rocketing up the face, had the rope between us arching up into the sky. The ice and rock made short work of my woollen gloves. We continued for hours, each of us encased in our little sphere of concentration, all sense of exposure lost in the storm. All along we wondered how we’d manage at the 'nose' on the rib.

DJE in Chimney (Photo BLS)

Crux of Climb (Photo BLS)

For several of our trips Dave had argued, one against the three of us, for the inclusion of a 200 ft thin rappelling line in the party gear. Now in the icy gully beside the 'nose' Dave, bless him, unpacked his ‘bloody rope’ (as we called it) and arranged a good sling on one of our two precious pitons. In sleet we abseiled down our crux of the previous day. At the bottom of the abseil I was going up and down like a yo-yo on the thin line. Luckily I had just enough rope to make it to a stance. Dave joined me and we down-climbed and abseiled once again, now in torrential rain and hail, before heading off onto the snow. We were moving very slowly now, not because of deliberation, but because we were bloody cold. Speech was difficult; slow and blurred. We wasted no time, packed the ropes away, and moved out onto the snowfield and the La Perouse Glacier with as much vigour as we could muster. We managed to warm up a little and just kept moving on up the neve hoping we wouldn’t miss the cave. At about 1pm we heard a shout and there in the sleet were Jim and Mike, starting to move away from the snow cave entrance. They had decided to go looking as far as the bottom of the face. We all dived back into the cave and they helped us out of our sodden gear and into dry clothes and sleeping bags. Ah, that hot brew. We'd been out from the snow cave for over 29 hours.

BLS Above Crux (Photo DJE)

BLS on Upper Rib (Photo DJE)

We emerged from the snow cave the next morning. The face of Hicks was plastered with snow and we contemplated our narrow escape. The following morning we went out over Clarke Saddle to the Hermitage in one day, a 21h epic. And I could write a book about that last day - my next blog post.

Carrington Hut - CMC - Upper Waimakariri River

Baby Brownie

There can't be many people left alive who would remember the first Carrington Hut at the foot of Camp Spur in the upper Waimakariri Valley, first completed in 1929, which was washed away in in a flood. But there are many who would remember the second one, placed well above the flood level on a river terrace and in the bush. Here is a photo of the hut taken with my mother's Baby Brownie together with an image of the little camera itself.

Carrington Hut 1952

I have many memories of that hut; here are two.

One night when Mike White, his sister Liz and I were there we were woken by Liz screaming. Mike and I groped for our lights and there sitting bolt upright was Liz eyeballing an equally terrified possum sitting on the dwang beside her. We chased the possum out and returned to sleep. The next day Mike sidled up to me as we tramped back down-valley. "I was scared I was going to find you in the beam of my light last night." "Thanks, mate" was all I could say.  And then there was the occasion when one member of a tramping party discovered a twelve inch length of railway rail in his pack having carried it for four hours up the Waimak - he was a big rugby bugger and the hush in the hut was deafening!

And here is Terry Hassell, sometime in the mid nineteen fifties, having a late breakfast in Carrington Hut on the way out from the Upper Waimak Bivi - note the three tiers of bunks and the 'long' stove that existed in the hut - and the old Primus.

Terry Hassell in Carrington Hut

Early Climbing Days - Nine - Mt Tutoko

One of the great peaks of southern New Zealand is Mt Tutoko, named after a Maori chief in the area during the early days of colonisation. It is one of the bucket-list peaks for many mountaineers - and it is hard to ascend because of its difficult access, steep bluffs and the notorious weather in the area - as I found it to be.

Tutoko from the South (stolen from internet - unknown photographer!)

Rodda Route on Tutoko - Bluffs from Grave Couloir

I had four attempts on Tutoko before finally getting to the top. The first in the 1950s was via the Tutoko Valley, as were the rest. We walked in to Pawnbroker bivvi and next morning in reasonable weather started up the steep face opposite, known as the Rodda Route. We reached the glacier under the summit ridge late in the evening before opting to descend to the top tussocks for a night out. Our aim was to complete the climb the next morning. Without shelter or any gear the night was cold and uncomfortable but things became dire when a southerly storm hit us with hail and rain in the small hours. Our dry under surfaces became chilling rivulets.

The next morning we decided to descend the very steep bluffs, the most difficult part of the whole climb - and the most frightening. Back to town and so we failed.






My next attempt never got much further that Dave's Cave in the lower Tutoko Valley. The heavens opened again and I woke to find myself lying in about four inches of water and the beginnings of a stream racing down a side branch of Leader Creek. So much for a nice hollow for my hip. Once again we retreated from the valley.

Jim Wilson who'd been with me on the previous attempts asked, in 1965, if I'd come on a tent testing (Sears) expedition with Ed Hillary. For a pipe opener we all ascended Mt Madeline, an enjoyable climb. The next day we set off from Turners Bivvi for Tutoko in excellent weather. At the bottom of the SE Ridge Jim and I looked at one another. Both our wives were pregnant with our first children. With hardly a word between us we opted out of the climb. Mike Gill and Mike Hutchins continued on and did a fine traverse of the mountain - albeit a long one. Jim and I scuttled back to Turner's Bivvi where our hero, Ed, was keeping the keas from the tents. I can't remember if he was given any explanation for our defeat, but we were comfortable with our decision.

Tutoko from top of Grave Couloir

Finally some years later four of us - me with Jim Wilson, Mike White and Gordon Hassell - set off for Pawnbroker Bivvi where we spent a rather wet night and day sheltering from the usual rain, The weather started to clear the next morning so we headed to the top of Grave Couloir where we bivvied in a high position ready for the next morning and with steps plugged up onto Ngapunatoru Pass.




In the morning we were away early and made good time across the plateau towards the Tutoko massif. Over half way across Mike and Gordon decided to return - they were apprehensive about the time. Jim and I continued and late in the afternoon, after a nice climb up the final ridge, reached the summit. Below us we could see the bottom of Grave Couloir and, at its top, our bivvi site. Our return was uneventful and the light was starting to fade when we arrived at the top of Grave Couloir. The other two had descended to Pawnbroker and had very generously left us a hot soup in a thermos - wrapped in one of our sleeping bags. We settled down for the night with warm thoughts about our friends below.

Jim Wilson on the Summit Ridge of Tutoko

Next morning we made haste to get down to our friends below. All went well until a massive rock broke free of the ice at the top of the couloir and, with huge majesty, rolled past two very frightened climbers clinging to the edge of the couloir snow. It was with relief that we joined the others at the bottom, packed up and headed out to the road. Our excitement was not over yet. At one stage in the lower valley a big tree finally fell to its fate - across the track in front of us. Strangely - we felt safe all the way home in the car.

Jim Wilson on Summit of Tutoko

Book for Sale

Well, I’ve done it - and I’ve just finished cleaning up the blood and sweat from the floor about the computer at home.

This is just to announce that I’ve just published “Mountains ... Only Mountains”, my first Ebook, a book of reflections on climbing in general and including some personal recollections.  I’ve published it through Blurb, a US Publishing Company. If you want to have a look at it you can go to the blurb website (www.Blurb.com), search for it. It is available as a book and that costs – between NZ$55 and NZ$71). For those of you with ipad or iphones it can be down loaded for a lot less (about NZ$5.73). And both forms can be previewed at the Blurb website.

It has also been submitted to Amazon but I wont know for a couple of weeks if they have accepted it.

And incidentally it is not all in the glorious technicolour that these books now offer - all in black and white - all seventy odd photos - I like it, you may not!

Here is a cut and paste about it from the Blurb website

In "Mountains ... only Mountains" Barry Smith comments on and describes his approach to the culture of mountain climbing. This book describes some of the ups and down of his climbing, his reflections on climbing, and celebrates his life-long love of the mountains and valleys of New Zealand. He has included some of his poems and photographs from his times in the hills from the 1950s.

Hope you have a good read.

Waimakariri - Source to Sea

I don't recall whose idea it was (probably Jim Wilson's) but it arose because the folk who purchased Judkin's Coast to Coast wouldn't allow free entry for over seventies - they were out to get back some of the $$$ they'd paid to dear Robin and had no respect for the aged. So the idea was borne - lets show them we can still do it or something like it - the Waimakariri from source to sea. The idea was to get to the Waimak Col from the West Coast and then tramp down the river to Klondyke Corner and thence down the river to the sea. We'd spent so much of our youth in the headwaters of this river - including rafting down the gorge in about 1957 and between us at least seven times as part of the Coast to Coast. And between us we could lay claim to ascents of about 40 Waimak peaks - many of them multiple ascents. After this we would claim :"The Waimakariri is my river" on any Marae in the country.

The Waimakariri Col

Girding the Loins

Our planned first day in mid-December was not auspicious.  When we arrived at the Rolleston River it was up and we seriously thought we'd have trouble with the crossings and bluffs. So we retreated back to Arthur's Pass. Next day the river had dropped by about 300mm and it was all go. We made quite good time in the lower river but when we started to ascend the upper valley things slowed down. The guide book suggested 6+ hrs to the col - we took 12! Our descent to the Waimak Falls Hut (one of the best situated in the Alps) was easy.



Our greatest fear, a full hut, was realised but the occupants kindly gave us the hut mattresses and we slept blissfully outside on a mild night.  About the hut the alpine flowers were magnificent. When we told the occupants about our record for slowness up the Rolleston they very kindly said that we were at least doing something in our old age, 76 (me),76 (Jim Wilson) and 78 (Mike White)!

Waimak Col and Falls Hut

The descent to the White River was enjoyable but the slog down to Klondyke Corner from the White Junction took us six (more brews) instead of the three hours we could have done it in - in our youth. Somehow the next day turned into a rest day but the following day we gathered at Mt White bridge to start the kayaking.

Flowers Were Everywhere

Many Were the Brews

I soon found that my rudder didn't work because the stem was broken and the others found that their's were marginally useless.  The trick is to read the water a bit further ahead.  Anyway, after a few minor scrapes with bluffs and fairly vigorous eddies we emerged at the Waimak Gorge bridge very cold and shaky some 10 hours later - not quite C to C time. But then we stopped for lunch and afternoon tea. We slept well in our Macpac tent - despite the frequent elderly excursions into the night.

Mike, Jim, Hannah (mascot) and BLS at the End

Over the next one and a half days we made out way down to Brooklands which we considered close enough to the sea - earlier ideas of kayaking out to sea and down to Sumner evaporated as we neared the coast.  Warren and Hannah picked us up. At the start of the trip I'd been recovering from a bad cold and cough - the cough returned in full flight and I'm still getting over the after effects at the end of January.

East Face of Mt Crookneck, Queensland.

Back in 1962-3 when I was living in Brisbane, my friend Pat Conaghan, suggested that he take me up the East Face of Crookneck.  He, Ron Cox and John Comino had pioneered the first ascent of the face in 1959. I think our ascent was the third. We trundled up to the glasshouse mountains in my old Chevrolet and set off on the climb.  Pat led the climb, I merely acted as a belayer.  The climb took us most of the day.  I don't want to belittle our climb but I often look back at some of the early climbing we did in the 1950s and early 60s - given the primitive nature of our "tramping" boots and the protective gear we had and our fitness for rock climbing we didn't do too badly. What typified the climbing of the crux of the climb was how Pat managed to get up the last overhang.  With me belaying up close behind him I was astounded to see him reach into his pack and pull out a big wooden chock with a rope threaded through it.  This he managed to attach to some etriers he also had in his pack.  But first he managed to swing the chock up into a crack in the overhang until it jammed (somehow!) into the crack.  With huge (I thought) faith he then stepped into the etriers and swung free into the space below to overhang.  With a lot of struggle and effort he managed to get above the overhang and up to a decent belay position.  From there he belayed the nervous wreck that I'd become up to join him.  This was my first experience of Australian rock climbing at the sharper end.  I'd done some rock climbing on the Port Hills near Christchurch and on the long climbs in the Southern Alps but this was something quite different.

East Face Crookneck (Coonowrin)

But it was getting late in the day and, because the rest of the climb was an easy scramble to the top, we decided to abseil down.  I went first.  All went well until half way down from the overhang. While I was hanging free from the face my parka jammed in the carabiner and I was stuck.  It was getting dark and the prospect of hanging there for the night did not appeal. I managed to lift myself up with one hand to relieve the pressure and half tore the parka out of the carabiner.  I resumed my way to the bottom and Pat joined me there. We drove back to Brisbane with some fellow Kiwis who'd, mysteriously, managed to secrete a few pineapples into the boot of my car while Pat and I had been wasting our time up on the mountain.

Have a look at http://climbinghistoryoz.blogspot.co.nz/2012/02/crux-columns-ghosts-and-glass-houses.html

Reunion of Old Climbers

Recently three old climbers, Jim Wilson, Mike White and Barry Smith (with an average age of  76 - and who've been climbing together for nearly 60 years)  travelled up towards Arthurs Pass to have another get together in the hills.  As usual there was an objective and this time it was Kaitiaki, a side peak off the main divide with a great view over the lower Waimakariri from the Mt White bridge to up near the Bealey. Dont look for Kaitiaki anywhere on a map - it is our name - the NZ Geographic Board hasn't waved its magic wand over the name - it is marked on the map as 1804m and it was chosen for our attention by Jim, whose wife Ann, a well know pastelist, has often painted the peak. She decided to give it a name such is its dominance (hence kaitiaki - guardian) over the Waimak.  Therefore Jim had to climb it!

Mike and Jim in Sudden Valley

More Brewing

Map reading on the saddle.

So, while Ann went on up to Arthur's Pass, we travelled up to the Hawdon Shelter and thence up Sudden Valley to its delightful little two man bivi where we regaled one another with tall stories and tales of the past. Next morning in more beautiful weather to wandered up towards a saddle and, having stashed our packs, made our way out towards Kaitiaki on an easy ridge.  The view from the top was wonderful and we lay our old limbs out over the rocks for a short break.  Our route down was via Red Beech stream, a stream Mike and I had waltzed up 20 years previously - our only recollection being a minor waterfall that we'd turned on one side without any difficulty. Well, we didn't find any recognisable waterfall but eventually we came upon a gorge of some fierceness (well, for old chaps anyway) and a waterfall of some height with undercut surrounds. This required a steep excursion up into the bush from which some time later we descended into the gorge again.  Soon there was another waterfall so we tried the other side of the valley, struggling up with increasing weariness. Darkness descended but luckily we had our sleeping bags and the bush was dry - so dry we didn't even dare light the primus for a brew.

Next morning we made our way back to the valley floor - thankfully downstream of the gorge.  In sunny weather we made our way down to the Red Beech fan where we were greeted by Ann with Rochelle Rafferty - nice to see you ladies!  Rochelle took us home where she filled us full of tea and toasted cheese sandwiches. We were grateful we'd spent an extra night in the bush!

Mike, Jim, Ann, Barry and Kaitiaki (photo: Rochelle Rafferty)

We'll be following your progress on Everest in May with interest, Rochelle.

Early Climbing Days - Seven

Tasman - our first major 10, 000 footer - or 3000m peak

In my earlier post "Early Climbing Days - Five" I said I'd elaborate on one or two of our climbs from that 1956/7 season.

After establishing ourselves in a snow cave on the upper La Perouse Glacier after several days of struggling up the Cook River, and exploring the lower valley, we decided to attempt our first 10 000ft peak.  We were camped at about 9 000ft so one afternoon we climbed up onto Clarke Saddle and from here we enjoyed our first summit in the Aoraki/Mt Cook National Park, Mt Teichelmann.  We actually safely enjoyed a glorious sunset from the top and were back in our snow cave before night descended.

A few days later we decided to attempt Tasman which lay further north of Teichelmann.  We left early and soon were romping along the ridge beyond Teichelmann.  Soon we were over Graham and onto Silberhorn, an off-lier of Tasman.  Ahead lay, to us, the formidable ice arete of Tasman.  Jim and I chose to ascend the arete direct and after a couple of hours of step cutting and belaying, found ourselves on top. Dave Elphick and Mike White chose to traverse out onto the east face of Tasman and found the going tough in sun softened snow.  Our arete route had been hard and icy.  After an hour or more on top we descended the arete route together.  On the way down the steepest part of the arete Jim lost the ferule of his ice axe, luckily noticing it before he attempted the next shaft belay. We  eventually found ourselves on top of Teichelmann in the setting sun (once again) before descending to our snow cave below.  It had been a big day out.

Tasman from Silberhorn 1957

Early Climbing Days - Five

The year after our long climbing trip into the Arrowsmith Range and upper Rakaia the four of us decided to tackle some of the unclimbed areas to the west of Mt Cook.  Early in 1957 Dave Elphick, Mike White, Jim Wilson and I set off up the Cook River towards the La Perouse Glacier with heavy packs. We'd hardly gone an hour when disaster struck - a cage I was in while crossing the Cook River collapsed and I plummeted into the river.  Luckily it was in the shallows and after a 30ft fall all I suffered was a flattened pack frame and a very sore back for a few days.

We continued up the river and after a few days established ourselves in a snowcave not far below Clarke Saddle on the main divide.  From here we made some good climbs, some of them first and second ascents. These included Tasman, Silberhorn, Teichelmann (five ascents! and saw the sun set from its summit a couple of times), Magellan (third ascent), Drake (second ascent and new route) and Mt Hicks (first ascent of the north face).

Returning from Magellan

One of the highlights was the day on Tasman.  It was a long day with an exciting climb up the arete from Silberhorn.  The first ascent of Magellan had been first done two years earlier by Harry Ayres, Ed Hillary and two others so we had the feeling of walking on hallowed ground!

The highlight for me on this trip was the first ascent of the west face of Mt Hicks with Dave Elphick.

We had to spend a night on top and were very lucky to get safely down the face in a sudden storm.  We finally climbed over Clarke Saddle and walked out to the Hermitage in a long 21h day.

Dave E and Mike W on Tasman Arete

Returning From Tasman over Teichelmann

                
More about a couple of these topics in the next post.

Reunion of old Bush Walkers and Climbers from Queensland

A month ago when we went to WA to see the National Parks and wildflowers (we've just got back) Catherine and I managed to attend a couple of days at a reunion of the now defunct University of Queensland Bushwalkers Club.  This reunion was  almost 50 years after we left Brisbane for life in NZ.  It was great to catch up with so many old friends from the past.  There has always been a close friendship between these early members and we've had many great reunions over the years.  This year was no exception and we all had a great time.  Some members (5) climbed Mt Barney while the rest walked, chatted and discussed and learned about the geology of Mt Barney courtesy of Warwick Wilmott, geologist.

Basil Yule, Alan Frost, Barry Baker, Gordon Grigg and Peter Reimann
Ready to Leave for Mt Barney via Logan Ridge

Ron Cox and Alan Frost Discuss Early Climbing

I'd have liked to but it was on the day we were to return to Brisbane to head on the Perth early the next morning.  I'd also been influenced by the reputation of the UQBWC for late starts and finishes, and I'd done the same climb with them at the last reunion.  As it happened they were back before we departed.  Never mind it was still a great reunion.  Always impressed by the close and durable bonds young people make when they are striving together when young.

Bil Bolton, Ann Johnman,  Faye Bolton and Lucy Sullivan
Gaze About During a Geology Lecture