The first winter crossing of the Graham Saddle

Press, 30 August 1980, Page 16

The first winter crossing of the Graham Saddle

Alf Brustad, one of the Norwegian guides at Mount Cook, suggested ‘ r ; 'I mv triend Wallace Wade (“Duffy”) accompany him on a skiing expedition in the Mount Cook region. We were to cross the Southern Alps on skis, by . the highest pass, to the Franz Joseph and return. But it was to be kept strictly secret as the manager, Charles Elms, . was against journeys entailing any risk. The date was arranged; and in the event we made the traverse on Tuesday, August 12, 1930. Our route was over the Graham Saddle (2680 m the first winter crossing that had been made.

Alf had asked Duffy and me to arrive at the Hermitage early in the morning, so we set off from Christchurch about midnight. It was fortunate we were riot in any hurry. . There had been a heavy fall of snow in the Mackenzie Country. From Burke’s Pass onwards not a fence could be seen. Our car lights would flood across miles of white paddocks. We had to drive carefully in the lane cleared by the snow plough. Progress was slow, cor-: ners were difficult to judge, but we arrived in time for breakfast.

The first thing Alf noticed was that we had no adequate outer clothing sufficient to protect us from the weather at high altitudes or should we be caught in a storm. From the paraphernalia he had brought back .from when he was in Aritarctica with Admiral Byrd he. fitted us out with extra parkas. He produced crampons, rope, and an ice axe. The food rations he divided between us to pack in our rucksacks. A final check for goggles, mittens, ointment against snowburn, and we were off. We hitched a ride in a truck the first seven miles to Huskie Camp on the Ball Hut road. We skied, the next four miles to Ball Hut, spending the rest of the day there and getting to bed early. There was no wireless for weather reports. Alf was constantly consulting his aneroid barometer. He predicted good weather for tomorrow. We were up at 4 a.m., and after a hearty breakfast we said thanks to the cook and off we went down on to the Tasman Glacier at 5 a.m. We. had 14 miles to cover to the Aimer Hut on

the other side. On-the way back we had to make an extra 11 miles from Ball Hut to the Hermitage; The moonlight on the Tasman was bright as daylight. Mount Cook and the Hochstetter Icefall made a wonderful sight. Alf leading over breakable crust, took us six. miles of heavy going to de la Beche corner. There was, unfortunately, a piercing cold westerly blowing down the glacier. Eventually Duffy could stand it no longer. He definitely thought his manliness was being endangered by the cold blast penetrating his plus fours. Alf had to go back to him and pack newspaper down the front of his plus fours.

We started the climb up the Rudolph Glacier towards the Graham Saddle. The sunrise, first striking the tops of Cook, Haast, Tasman, on our left, arid on our right The Minarets, and Elie de Beaumont, was truly majestic, the vivid colours breathtaking. We took off our skis and fastened them securely across our rucksacks. To lose a ski at this juncture would have been a disaster. After fitting on our crampons, Alf roped us up —Alf leading, Duffy next with myself as anchor. We spent a moment or two on rope drill, then set off. We were then half way from the top. Alf, deadly serious, informed us that the area was dangerously crevassed. He tested each forward step for snow strength. In spite of all the care, disaster struck - at. about 2450 m, just below the saddle. Alf arid Duffy evidently weakened a snow bridge. In following their footsteps, I suddenly fell through but was temporarily supported by the skis across my back. I had time to yell “anchor” and ended up 6m down and with my back to the ice wall. Both ice walls sloped outwards for several hundred feet. There were no ledges on which to rest, and the crevasse appeared bottomless. Had I been facing the upper ice wall I could have attacked it with my ice axe and perhaps secured a foothold, but my skis across my back prevented any turning. No ribs were cracked but breathing was difficult. Instructions; were being yelled at me from above but were impossible.. to execute.. To alleviate my breathing I took an overhead

swipe with my ice-axe, aiming, as I thought, well away from the rope. When I looked up I was horrified to see I had missed the rope by a fraction of an inch. ' However, the move did take the weight off my chest and enabled me to catch a breath. The team up top eventually pulled me out like a fish out of water, I promptly passed out The dangling on a rope, plus the weight of rucksack and skis, my frantic work to chop through one metre of snow proved too much. As I was pulled out, Alf’s precious ice-axe slipped off my wrist on to the downhill side of the hole. I had been between heaven and garth for 15 minutes. Alf had a sample bottle of rum (issued gratis to each guest on arrival at . the Hermitage). He dropped a teaspoonful on my tongue,, at the same time working on my rescucitation. They soon had me on my feet, but I would not let Alf cross over to recover his second ice-axe so we left it there. This section of the Rudolf just below Graham’s Saddle is today recognised as extrerhely dangerous for climbers. Only two years ago two climbers were lost in this section. .. Reaching the fop of the saddle . and . stopping briefly to take photos, we swapped crampons "for

skis. However, the whole of the upper Franz Joseph ice field was a mass of wind slab and breakable crust, which to novices like Duffy and me, was a l most unmanageable, slowing up progress considerably. Darkness came while we were skirting the upper Franz icefalls. Alf did. a magnificent job tracking through this maze of crevasses, but eventually was forced to a halt, deciding to wait for the moon to come up. We made a bivouac of sorts to ward off the piercing cold wind. ■ Alf had a tiny alpine primus stove which at that altitude boiled water very quickly. We thankfully drank the tea and ate tiie tea leaves plus a few biscuits. Constant body movement was essential to .ensure circulation. ■ We faced, each other, kicking our boots toe to toe and pounded our chests for about two hours. ■ Just as the primus ran out of kerosene the full moon came up and we were on our way again. Alf knew the location of the old Aimer bivouac but that was under some 2m of snow. There had been a new hut built in the same location, but we searched and . probed in the bright moonlight for over an hour to no avail.It was eventually located where Alf had reck-

oned it " was by our- skit scraping the metal ridge of the roof. We soon found the pole attached to the door frame, and the usual rope and snow shovel. ”

We gained entrance; to the hut at 1 a.m. Tea was brewed and a quick meal disposed of. Taking off only our boots, we fell' into the bunks arid slept for 12 hours.

The return journey began at 2 am. the following day. Again it was' bright moonlight In plan- 7 ning the expedition. Alf had counted on this' ail important factor. We saw our tracks where Alf. had previously led through the icefallsZ -R was a magnificent piece'bf ice craft. - ; On reaching the saddle we skirted the crevassed area, but Alf was not going to leave his ice-axe. I had let go after' belftg pulled out of the hole. We played out. enough rope for him to collect it.

Clamping on our skis ■halfway down the Rudolf, and stopping ~at de. Ja Beche corner to take a ' victory snap with my selftimer, we headed : down the Tasman for the Ball Hut, which we reached,.'at 4 p.m.; then we skied the 11 miles to the Hermitqgft’ Charlie Elms forgot; fis original. views' about the? attempt and brought but the champagne. We kept the dramatic little episode to ourselves. /

ROY O’MALLEY

writes of how he joined two friends in

August, 1930, to cross the Main Divide on skis. The photograph above shows the area. In the group picture, taken at Dela Beche corner on the:way out, Mr O’Malley is in the middle. His companions are the late Alf Brustad (left) and the late “Duffy” Wade.