ADVENTURES AT SEVENTY (4) The lost sheep track

Press, 19 November 1977, Page 15

ADVENTURES AT SEVENTY (4) The lost sheep track

By

G. L. NANSON

It was at 8 a.m. on a frosty morning tn August that Austen Deans and I stepped from the heated interior of our vehicle into the sub-zero shade of Happy Valley, some three to tour miles from Torlesse station homestead. Above us towered Rubicon Peak, bush clad for about 2000 feet from the streambed, and cleanly white above in the early morning sunlight. This was our objective for the day. Austen had been assuring me, during our approach drive, that there was a very good sheep track through the bush,

wide and straight from stream to ridge — for 30 years ago he had used that route. But 30 years is a long time, and young beech trees grow quickly under favourable conditions. so we could find no track! We continued on up the f r o s t-bound streambed until we came to an avalanche gully leading up to the snows above. The avalance snow, was firm in the gully so good progress was made until the way was barred by a waterfall. We by-passed this obstacle by taking to the bush along the side until we came out onto alpine scrub and patches of firm snow. Climbing through alpine scrub is slow and tiring work so we sought out a long tongue of snow which was firm but soft enough to allow us to pick steps with just the occasional use of the ice axes. From now we gained height steadily, enjoying the calm crisp air of this perfect day and the view unfolding as we climbed. We were climbing a broad ridge with occasional outcrops of rock. We could not see the summit (at 6500 feet) until we had reached a minor summit (at 6000 feet) where we had lunch. Not a sound was heard but our voices, and hardly a breath of wind — just a white world around us and the clear blue sky above. After the effort and struggle of the climb we enjoyed rest for the body and peace of mind, able for a while to forget the cares and problems of the daily round of life, and to appreciate and wonder at the beauty and the vastness of the natural world around us. Three-quarters of an hour later we reached Rubicon’s summit. Here also the sky was clear, but there was a light cold breeze from the west — too cold to allow Austen to paint: a white world from Mount Cook in the south to the Kaiakoura mountains in the north, with only the Castle Hill basin clear of snow. So after a few photos, at 3.30 p.m. it was homeward bound with the breeze behind us. The snow was not

suitable for glissading, but iast progress was made with long strides and heels dug well in until the snow petered out and the bush was reached. Here

we again searched for the elusive sheep track, but again failed to knd it! So there was nothing for it but to plunge downward into the bush, which at

first was good onen “going," but then harboured undergrowth and lawyer, making things a little difficult. However, just on dusk,

we emerged near our \ehide to find that cloud had covered the sky. The day had been good — a bonus for men of our years.