A professor introduces students to the mountains

Press, Volume CXV, Issue 33929, 23 August 1975, Page 12

A professor introduces students to the mountains

In August, 1926, eight students of geology with their professor, Robert Speight, made ther way from Christchurch to Mr Izard’s cottage, “Enys.” in the Castle Hill basin. Several of us left the West Coast train at Avoca station and walked 14 miles.

Our object was the practical study of rocks and land forms but, in this setting of snowy mountains, deep gorges and rushing streams, every day was full of interest and excitement — to me anyway. 1 had heard of the mountains of Switzerland from my father who had walked and studied wild flowers there, but this was my introduction to the mountains of New Zealand. “Bobby” Speight, as we called him to each other, was a shy but kindly man,

and he really made geology come alive for us. With him we searched for

G. L. NANSON writes of his days as student and early mountain lover 50 years ago.

and found shark’s teeth in the decomposing strata. Late home And, with a hammer, he cracked open oyster-shell rock and released the smell

of kerosene resulting from the decay of the long-dead organisms. He showed us a cave with a stream flowing out of it, illustrating the solvent action of water on limestone rock, and he did not say “no” when George Holloway and I wanted to explore it. He must have worried a bit, however, when we

took longer than expected, because a search party found us, near dusk, tramping the main road home. Nor did he say “no” when all of us asked if we might climb Mount Enys (7200 ft the highest summit of the Craigieburn range. Perhaps he should have but then he could not know that for one of us

the trip would be beyond his powers. Our experience of mountaineering was nil, and our ideas of equipment very limited. ‘Quiet hiss’ Because of the blanket of snow we did decide, however that warm clothes, a rope and sticks were necessary. We also kept to

main ridges, as offering the easiest and, as events proved, the safest route.

At this distance in time my recollections of the climb are hazy but, indelibly impressed on my mind, is our escape from a snow avalanche triggered by our progress across the upper level of a snow face, just below the ridge. With a quiet hiss — almost like a sigh — the surface snow slid swiftly from the line of our track into the basin several hundred feet below. About this stage of the climb, at a height of between 6000 ft and 7000 ft, George Holloway was showing signs of distress and had to be helped along. We must have been near the summit when he collapsed and died. We had already decided to descend by a more direct spur to the main road. We "sledged” George’s body through the snow with the aid of our rope until we were met by a party with a horse, and our professor. I can still see the crushed look on our professor’s face, and I learned a lesson that day in the meaning and weight of responsibility. George Holloway is buried in the Springfield cemetery, alongside G. M. Carrington who lost his life in the Waimakiriri River.

George’s middle name, Rome, was given to the then unnamed ridge of Mount Rolleston.