Featured articles

Tuesday 31 January 2012

Mt Taranaki - #1



After several failed attempts to climb Mount Taranaki, at 7:23pm Tuesday 31st January 2012, I reached the summit. Perched on a windy rock at two thousand five hundred metres, I was there in the moment. At last!

Magical
During the weekend, the mountain was taken by storm by Anna Frost, Matt Bixley, and Grant Guise. They each smashed records on the mountain, some had stood since 1976. I spent Saturday cycling around Taranaki, and was too depleted to join their record-breaking attempts. Read about their success here: Mt Taranaki - Speed Record. Alistair McAlpine has recently compiled all the records on the mountain, hence the recent interest! I was determined to make my own way up at the first open chance...

Today began windy & wet, but as I patiently stared outside my office window, mentally tearing away the layers of dark cloud, the storm began to subside... I was just about to think of another plan when, the rocky peak appeared above the clouds. All go!

I set off up the Razorback track from North Egmont at 5:50pm, following advice from 4-summits record holder Matt Bixley. Overgrown, and laden with hundreds of steps, I climbed steadily along a 'razorback' ridge to the Translater tower  by Tahurangi Lodge. 35 minutes, I branched off to the summit climb section.
Stairs...
A few hundred steps launched me into the nemesis of the climb - 300 vertical metres of scree. Not your average scree, with hundreds climbing this route every summer weekend, it was all but impossible to get a grip! As I climbed and clawed desperately, I started to pick a better route between well lodged rocks, but it was still a huge mission. Once at The Lizard, it was a rock climb scramble to the crater. My watch spurred me into a furious dash once I saw the ice in the crater, ticking down to my goal of 1 hour 30 minutes...

Head down until I saw the memorial plaque, what an epic view to burst through my senses! 1 hour 33 minutes to the summit, I was ecstatic. Reminding myself this was only the first, the reccie, I'm sure there's plenty more to be shaven off.
The summit crater
I didn't rush the descent, it took about the same time as the trip up. Facing down, you realise how steep Taranaki is, and precarious pockets of scree on the solid, serrated rock are forever out to get you. This mountain is just as lethal in summer as it is in winter.

I arrived back at North Egmont at 9:05pm just before dark, making for a 3:15 return trip. It was a magic climb, as I drove off I occasionally caught sight of its darkened silhouette on a surprisingly calm night.

I'm now looking forward to taking 10 others with me to climb the Eastern Ridge on Saturday, and sleep at Syme Hut atop Fanthams Peak. Lets hope the weather agrees! But for now, I can finally live in Taranaki, and relax.

.

Friday 20 January 2012

Arthurs No Pass - to the Brink & Beyond

Arthur's Pass was the destination, Three Passes was the goal. Though as plans warped and moulded to the weather, the trip took on a very different flavour to what we were expecting... all for the better!



Arthur's Pass National Park marks the northern head of the Southern Alps, hills turn to mountains, things get serious. In terms of mountaineering, Nelson Lakes is home to some good training climbs for the more treacherous climbs in Arthurs Pass and Aoraki-Mount Cook. Lacking the experience to give impressive peaks like Mt Rolleston and Mt Armstrong a real shot, we headed in to scope out the alpine brothers. 


We arrived early for our wilderness meal, so to keep our appetites at bay we nibbled on a taste of Foggy Peak climbed from Porters Pass par entrée. A cool Speights at the Summit? We're in south now, would be a crime not to! It was a well deserved treat after two hours spent fending off 120km/h winds and sonic sprays of hail to reach the 1730m high point. Luckily, in the past others had been driven to the ground by gales on the exposed ridge too, and had built us rock shelters at vantage points along the route. We retreated from the summit with our hands shielding our faces from scree particles, and a fair dose of wind burn.

Craigieburn Forest was our campsite for the night - we were reacquainted with our old friend The Kea. How I'd missed him. What a relief to find the car's rubber linings still in tact after a night filled with squawking Keas.


Rivers were still "burly" when we finally made our entrance to Arthur's, so we left the Waimakariri to down-brew while we made our assault on Avalanche Peak. The climb was saturated with magnificent views of Mt Rolleston crowding the backdrop. The route from Avalanche Pk along the ridge behind me seems straightforward in summer... but hidden from sight is a 30m vertical face to be negotiated. Serious stuff.

I was plagued with regret having not brought the tent, to spend a night on a tussocky flat section below the peak would have been fabulous. Instead we spent two hours sleeping on the high plateau, dwarfed beneath Mt Rolleston.


By Tuesday the rivers had finally receded, so Ben & I tackled the Waimakariri river traverse. Mostly easy going along the wide glaciated valley flats, but further upstream the river gorged forcing us to cross each of the half dozen braids. We paired up for the wilder torrents, and with Mt Harper and Mt Speight dominating the end of the valley, we successfully made it to Carrington Hut. Filled with hot, sweaty DoC workers, and now 5pm there was no way our day was over just yet...


Reading the hut book warned us of the short yet difficult passage to come... "If you sleep in and start your tramp at 1pm arriving at Carrington by 5pm it would be foolish to think  that you would be able to reach Barker Hut before dark... If you decided to attempt such an adventure you would most likely find yourself camping just below Barker Hut on a ROCKY outcrop and returning feeling like a LOSER  but thankful to be ALIVE. We speak from experience..."

Considering that it was now 6pm, we were determined not to suffer their same misery - 7 hours in we'd still have to move fast, and stretch the daylight hours to the limit. The route along the rocky White River was almost non existent, and as the darkness closed in the cairns began to blend into the sea of boulders. With dusk came a showcase of colours etched into the cool sky beyond Mt Carrington. Colours morphed, intensified and faded with each weary turn of the head.

Mountain Art - Dusk on White River

All the while, we could see our goal - Barker Hut - neartly perched on the huge rocky buttress at the end of the valley. As we finally neared closer and began the last climb, our hearts sank. We had reached what would later be infamously referred to as: The Chasm of Doom. Each of the three hanging glaciers above Barker leaked gushing tributary flows into the main White River - the Cahill glacial stream had gouged out a deep chasm now filled with white water.

Our final obstacle, we scoured the banks for a safe place to cross. 9:30pm, night vision weakening, we helped each other across the thigh-deep current, making sure each foot placement was secure - a firm forearm grip, and Ben pulled me onto land. Our adrenaline was racing now, even though we'd crossed quite safely. Now it really was one big push to top out on the 100m high outcrop - relief. Ben climbed up a few minutes later, and was ecstatic. 10:15pm, almost twelve hours had elapsed when we finally opened the wooden door to Barker Hut.


In the morning we were able to take stock of what a prime location the hut was in. Three high glaciers poured into the gorges flowing around the hut's rocky foundation. From the hut we eyed up the four painful hours of river-bashing that had consumed late last night. From the 3-walled toilet, my eyes followed the White Glacier to 2300m, where Mount Murchison - highest in Arthurs Pass - claimed his spot one hundred metres above.

Prime Real Estate


After sleeping off our mountain hangovers, Ben & I set off to explore the route to the base of Murchison. While lunching on a moraine spur, we scoped out the ascent along the leading ridge to Kahutea Col, where snatching a summit would be simple. We made it to the snowline, a rock dislodged, I sprained a thumb... Sunbathing on the glacier seemed like a far better idea. And so it was. You can't be epic all the time.

Ben soaking it up at the base of White Glacier
Braving a dip in the Barker Tarn
As our final night at Barker Hut dimmed, we watched misty cloud passing over Harman Pass way below, and creeping our way... minutes later, our screens were blank. Minutes later, the white-out had passed. Hours later the hut rattled furiously and shook at its supports - a fantastic shelter for Cantabrians - the whole night wind powerful as a magnitude 7 earthquake blitzed Barker to oblivion. For once I was glad not to be in a tent.


Suited up in full weather gear, we braved the return journey with the assurance that we knew the route. Misty rain accumulated, and the rivers rose noticeably, so to cross the Taipoiti we jumped in the 'Clough Cableway' keen for a novelty crossing. This ancient piece of machinery was built to remember a 16 year old who had died crossing the raging White river. As it turned out, the machine was more dangerous than crossing the river by a long-shot!


Three thick iron cables hung across the 30m wide river, holding a small cart to be manually winched across. It was great flying across the river, the cable whizzing past my face, rain in my face, river gushing way below. Not so great was getting my hand caught between the pulley and wire - if I wasn't wearing gloves my hand could have been seriously injured. My screams to Ben across the river were drowned out in the rain. Luckily he was tired and released the winch, not a second too soon...


Somehow, the return trip still took just shy of 12 hours. Mission and a half! Returning to Nelson along the West Coast completed our deluxe South Island tour. This was Ben's first real taste of South Island tramping, he bravely pushed himself to his limits, and was hugely satisfied with the trip. Though when he returns, he'll more likely be gliding than tramping!

Arthur's Pass - a great place for everything

Saturday 14 January 2012

Mt Fyffe

As I drove south along the scenic Kaikoura coast, several things caught my eye. The first was the Renwick pie store. Good start. The second was Tapue-O-Nueku. Just shy of three thousand metres of mountain burst out of the yellow, wavering tussock fields of the eastern coast. Boom.


We'll just the map scale was slightly deceiving...


Glancing at my South Island road map I convinced myself this was Mount Fyffe, within striking distance of Kaikoura township. Following my nose along a maze of country roads, I found myself at a scaled down version of the alpine giant. The true Fyffe still presented me with a daunting challenge however in the mid-afternoon blaze - 1400m of climb - and nowhere to escape the burning sun.


The view was ace - to the Inland Kaikoura Ranges, home of the monstrous Manukau and towering Tapuae-o-Uenuku, the highest mountain outside the Southern Alps, higher even than Ruapehu in the North.

The hut had an extravagant 120 degree view of the Kaikoura coast, would have been an excellent spot for the night! I doused myself in chilled water from the hut reservoir, and spent half an hour cooling off before attempting the final 600m to the summit.

Nearing the peak along a flat summit ridge made for a final dash to the trig. Epic!

Making it to 1608m was all the more satisfying given how doubtful I was to reaching this point during the initial scorching climb. I was revellous!



Descending was more a necessary exercise than a challenge, taking me back down the same steep sixteen hundred.

And onwards to Christchurch, last stop before the Alps!

Saturday 7 January 2012

In the Hall of the Seal King


Seals and White-faced Heron were rampant along the coastline in the Abel Tasman NP, hissing and inhaling violently as I burst into their territory. Threatened, as I cut the line between them and their offspring, I sent the oily creatures flapping into the ocean ... safety, for us both. Meanwhile, I managed to capture our mutual fear as we dodged and darted each other along the narrow strip of traversable terrain.


I present to you, In the Hall of the Seal King.

(Note: If in future the video does not appear in the email newsletter, you can view the video from clicking on the title link taking you to the online article)

Abel Tasman


In my penultimate South Island trip of the summer, I decided to visit Abel Tasman National Park. After all, it would be a crime to live only 1 hour from the golden shores of Marahau without dipping my toes in the sand.


I jogged into the National park expecting beautiful beaches and sea-side relaxation - but once again, I succeeded in making the easiest of the 'Great Walks', into a rip-roaring adventure with uncertainty lying around each corner.


I started out with a couple from Wellington as they began their 3-day northern hike, but within twenty minutes, I was bored and my eyes were drawn away from the trail-highway, to the seductive coastline. I strode along a dozen beaches while hundreds of holiday-makers sailed, swam, and sand-castled. Meanwhile I revelled at being off the beaten track once again, boulder hopping around the rocky coastline and occasionally squeezing through tight caves.


Eating nectarines in the shade of the cool forest at Watering Cove campsite was excellent, the air smelt like summer. Golden.


After a leisurely trip north, I ducked my head into Anchorage hut - lifting my Hut Bagging total to over a half century. Though on most hot days of summer the hut would be the last place I'd want to stay, a sleeping bag on the beach would be all you need for a great night sleeping under the stars.





Each clearing through the cool forest revealed a new hidden bay waiting to be explored. Judging by the huge number of kayaks at each cove, the sea-borne travellers were getting the best of it.


 Dirt-crete: thousands of tourists pound and compress this trail into a fast, yet exceptionally hard running surface.



 Seals and White-faced Heron were rampant along the coast, hissing and inhaling violently as I burst into their territory. Threatened, as I cut the line between them and their offspring, I sent the oily creatures flapping into the ocean ... safety, for us both. Meanwhile, I managed to capture our mutual fear as we dodged and darted each other along the narrow strip of traversable terrain.

I present to you, In the Hall of the Seal King.



The sunset was a mere reminder of the epic-ness had that day. Wood-fired pizza with a band of Dutchmen, couldn't be better!