AN ALPINE TRAVERSE

Evening Star, Issue 18227, 17 March 1923, Page 7

AN ALPINE TRAVERSE

CROSSING- THE SEALEY RANGE

AH ARDUOUS CLIMB. [Written by F. E. Baumk, for the ' Evening Star.’] I have proved conclusively that even a “ green horn,” despite much superfluous tissue and gasping for breath, can enjoy climbing in the Southern Alps. One of the groat reasons in the past why the Mount Cook district, with its many peaks, has not attracted more tourists, is because the great majority of visitors nxo content to allow men like Malcolm R-oss, H. A. 11011, Professor Algie, Julian Grande, and R. L. Wiglcy, women like Miss Theomin and Freda Dufaur (Australia) to do all the hard work. The tourist in the past has been content to walk from the Hermitage to the Hooker bridges, or up to Seahy Lake (perhaps!), and after ho has done that ho has considered himself a hero. Then he goes back to tho Hermitage and plays bridge by a fire. That, he s.iys, is mountaineering with a vengeance. The Mount Cook district is unique. Switzerland, despite more sensational peaks—and Swiss rock climbing cannot compare with that to be found in the Southern Alps —is more easy of access. Funicular railways run up to mountain huts that are veritable hotels; climbs are mapped out to every foothold and stroke of an icc axe; there is not the essence of adventure that one cannot help but find in the Alps, which contain such wonderful climbing grounds as the, Tasman Arrete, Sefton, Scaley, Cook, the Minarets, Do La Boche. In New Zealand there is adventure in the great glacial valleys, romance in the Fragrant mountain air, and the very best of sport in climbing what tile Alps offer. To-day the nountains are really coming into their own. When Major Frank Savile, a very wellknown English officer and alpinist, Guide Joe Dcnohy, and myself left the Hermitage early on Sunday morning last we had no intention of traversing the Soaloy Range. We merely thought wo would climb to the huge snow plateau that lies under Mount Annette at the top of the range. From there Mount Sealoy (8,750 feet) could bo fought, and the Hermitage could be reached by a climb over the rocks and snow of Mount Wellington, which stands 7,000 ft above the valley, with big foothills arranged symmetrically before it, rising, crag upon crag, to where tho gleaming snows meet the skyline. Major Savile had recently arrived in New Zealand from the Pacific Islands, where ho had been on a holiday jaunt, and _ I snatched a couple of dajs’ spell from toil; but when a smiling Irish guide pats one on the back and says that everything will ho all right and tho traverse can he completed—well, one has to obey. That was the end of it. A HOT DAY. I Sunday was a glorious day. Wc set off, I heavily laden, in warm clothes, heavy uailI studded boots, icc axo, and well-filled rucksacks, thinking that tho weather would be cold once we reached tho heights; hut there was no mercy from the warm sun that day. As we scrambled and sliddown the shingly wall of the Mueller moraine to begin a climb along the huge rocks to ■where the track begins on tho way_ to Green Rock, wo felt very unfit. The guide, despite his heavy rucksack, in which were numerous delicacies to be partaken of, gambolled across the rocks like a mountain goat, occasionally cheering us up by saying that the glacier was the best part of tho trip, and that the last 4,000 it were the worst. Across the valley the huge glacier face of Sefton towered above us, rising in sheei precipices tti 11,000 ft. Now and then an avalanche would hurtle down its sleep, in places overhanging, flanks, rumbling and roaring as it crashed down the cliff faces, appearing from where we were to he powdered snow. In reality each fleck represented a huge block of ice. fSefton is of the Alps most feared. Mass Dufaur climbed it—traversed it—but even she, probably the finest climber New Zealand has ever seen, spoke in terms of awe about its schrunds, rotten rock, .and treacherous ice fields, which are always ready to break away down the terrifically steep sides. A GREAT PANORAMA. Tn the glorious sunshine Mount Cook’s three peaks shone and glittered' whore the great mountain stood, cloudless, rising from the black moraine of the Hooker Glacier. Kca. Point, verdure clad, was on the left. Ahead tho Mueller moraine wound in and out. to meet clear white ice far un tho valley, where several unelimhed, Jagged peaks stand boldly, turning gleaming ice faces to the sun. _ Tho walk to Green Reck, up a narrow, shingly “ path,” which made one leap across waterfalls and indulge in unwonted i agility, was fairly uneventful. The harder | walk to tho Mueller hut, _ which stands I over I,oooft above the moraine, announces I that mountain climbing has begun in I earnest. Above the green rock, eo called because it is covered with snow grass and 1 short tussock, with here and there sprays of alpine flowers —edelweiss and so on — arc bte boulders; the pass becomes jagged ; the base of the ico axe has to be used to help the panting, weary traveller on his way. But Urn hut is reached without having to do any climbing in tho true sense of tho word. Ladies do the walk and ' enjoy it; it is only above the Mueller hut that*any Alpine conditions are really met with. The Mueller hut stands over I,oooft above the glacial moraine. Far below one I can soo icc cliffs—rifts in tho black, dusty shingle that hides the pure ice. Tho little building, ns comfortable as the Waldorf Astor to tho wcarly climber, stands on an artificial knoll male by many big stones, and looks directly on tho Stefioiy tango. A few yards away is tho snow lino. A drift of snow not ion yards from the hut shows tnc wanderer what early morn- . ing has in store for him Kens shriek land circle over tho roof of the _ hut, venturing bravely near and accepting hunks lof meat from our excellent dinner. Guide Donohy is a chef, without a doubt. There [are two blankets in the bunk ; cigarettes; I tho alarm clock is set; avalanches roar down Sefton in tho valley; clear darkness; sleep comes, dreamless sleep. CLIMBING BY MOONLIGHT. It is not the easiest thing in tho world to awake ’at 2 a.m. from under thick, warm blankets; to dress in thick underwear, woollen fleece jackets, thick trousers, puttees, enormous boots, heavy rucksack. But tho guide tells us that wo are to climb by moonlight. For mo there is apprehensive fascination. Tho major merely mutters "Dam,” and would go to sleep again. He is unceremoniously dragged out. There is steak for breakfast, and the climb begins in earnest. Tho air is still—so still. Every star Is showing, but there is no frost. Even the keas arc silent, and tho onlv sound besides the clinking of the ice"axes on the boulders is tho eternal roar of Seflon’s avalanches, which never rest. Tho moon is old, and does not shed much light. For fully 600 ft wo climbed in virtual darkness. * Now and again rocks broke loose under our feet. We could hear them hurtling down tho hillside to the glacier far below, but we could not sec anything below us but pitch darkness—-if that is not Irish. Steep snow faces, with the snow partially glazed, had to‘bo crossed as tho climb progressed; they showed grey in the darkness. Dawn came on us suddenly just as wo started on the sleep snow climb to tho Annetto Plateau. Mount Cook, away in the distance, turned rosy red. Of a sudden Sefton, Scaly, and every peak on the several ranges proudly welcomed and wore tho delightful tints of the early sun—surely an inspiration to oven a “tenderfoot” (in more ways than one) climber. Tho whole head of the Mueller Glacier was pink; there could bo nothing more beautiful. An hour or so of still climbing, with ice axo dug into the slippery faces of snow, brought us to some rocks, on which rest was taken gratefully. Then on again, up enervating snow faces, and we reached the plateau.

A FINE PLACE FOR SPORT. The Annette Plateau is a wonderful place for sport. It gives the finest opportunities for tobogganing (we used one thatwas up there), skiing and classading, and from it, as wo found, much can be done. It is a natural snow basin, bounded on two sides by precipices and on the others by peaks which afford good climbing—notanly Annette, which is a most interesting rock climb. On tho plateau I was doomed to a three hours’ wait, as Major Savile and Denchy set out at once to the ice cliffs of Mount Scaly. They made record time with their arduous climb, spending only about ono hour in cutting steps, and scaling the last stiff rock clinu on about 50ft in a very short space, despite tho heat of tho morning. I had Sonia lunch ready for them when they returned, and they told mo of bad bergschrunds and crevasses, the snow bridges over which were very frail indeed. But tho major did not turn a hair. Lunch over, we set out on the lookedfor traverse. Wo could have got back to the Hermitage by returning to the hut and going straight over Ollivier or Kitchener; but we had lota of time, and Donehy was keen on the traverse. After a glissade of a few hundred feet, we turned back up the steep sides of tho range. By this time the snow was terribly soft, and often we sank thigh deep in it. There was far too much snow. But after a while rock was reached (near tho top of the range), and myself, tho tenderfoot, received many qualms looking down the gradient to the glacier, thousands of feet below, wondering what to do with my ice axe when I wanted to hang on by my teeth, puffing like a grampus, and watching Denehy smile at my _ discomfiture; scrambling, clawing, sweating, cursing, thinking of long cool potations ; searching for pools of snow-water on rocks; being warned by the guides not to touch snow at any cost; tired, scared, but enjoying myself thoroughly. Ono by one the peaks wore passed, about 100 ft below their highest points. As the day wore on a wind sprang up, and the snow became softer and softer. Far, far below the hut looked like a wee biscuit tin, so clear was tho air. I thought of its comfortable bunks, of gallons of water. LAST MOUNTAIN REACHED. So tho day wore on. The climb, I want to make k clear, was not half as dangerous ns it was arduous. Hour after hour found the three, of us still scrambling over rock or sinking in snow, seemingly no nearer to the last range on the peak. All of a sudden stones would slide from under one's feet, and a miniature avalanche would begin. Ono would fall on a steep snow face, and flounder in the melting snow. Weariness was not far off. Tho last mountain was reached at about 4 o’clock in tho afternoon, and there was a terrifically sleep snow face to be climbed before wo reached another little plajeau. Once at the top, wo could ee© the Hermitage, a speck over a mile below us. Wo could see the whole of tho Tasman Valley, tho swamps before Lako Rulcald, Wakefield, Rotten Tommy, and the big rock peaks of the opposite range—Sebastopol and many others. The view was magnificent.

Tire descent was an ©nsy dfic—a popular one. A shingle slid©, with ice axe cs brake, was fascinating, and it was r.ot long before tussock was ’■©ached, about I,oooft below. (More heavy going, and Scaly Lake was reached—and Giere ia nothing more to be said, save that wo chose the cliff face and not th© track, as the track,' I think, was the more tiring. Wo reached the Hermitage at about 6 p.m., half an hour behind the major, who did a remarkable sprint at the finish. We had had two wonderful days. In conclusion, I would like to say that a child oould do tho traverse, which has been neglected in the past. It is one of the most interesting climbs ono can do, without being dangerous. The present guides are developing the country far more than was the case under the Government regime.