MOUNT CHRISTINA

Evening Star, Issue 22817, 27 November 1937, Page 13

MOUNT CHRISTINA

FIRST GLIKB OF THE SEASON [Written by Okoxsac, for tkc ‘ Evening Star.’] As evening fell wo left Dunedin, the car laden with ice axes, ropes, crampons—everything, the heart of a mountaineer could desire. Two days before a friend and 1 bad discovered that our unexpected leaves coincided. Where should we go I-' The Remark - ablcs, the Hopkin’s Valley, Mount Trent—all wore discussed, but the choice fell on the spectacular peak dominating the new road now piercing the mountain solitudes of the tipper Hollyford Valley, the peak which stands guard like a sentinel over the Homer Tunnel entrance, where man has pitted all his strength against the rock precipices and avalanches—Mount Christina. So we set off, and driving by turns reached nearly to Mossburn by midnight. The night was line, and a neighbouring grove of pines looked inviting, so here we halted. Nest morning we wore early astir. Low mist which hung over the countryside did not break till we wore past Cascade Creek. . Then the mountains began to appear through rifts in the swirling clouds—first tile- Ailsa Ranges, then Mount Little, and, lastly, towering above her neighbours, stood Christina, our goal. She soared from the cannon, buttress upon buttress, then in pale blue ice falls all capped by a .dazzling summit arete of virgin snow. Soon we were under the very shadow of the cliffs and the summit was hidden. At midday wo reached the Tunnel camp and sought out Kurt Suter, Alpine guide, now holding a. contract to supply food for the workmen. We had brought several bottles of beer with the object of bribing him to feed us, too, but this was unnecessary. Kurt, like. everyone else in the camp, spoilt tis. shamefully - He pointed out our route, which was, in fact, the only one on that sheer, mountain. About 3 o’clock, duly fortified, we started down the road again in the car until we reached the nearest point to our take off ” on to the slopes of the peak. A lengthy packing of rucksacks now ensued. It was in vain that f-pointed out that my Jack of fitness, due to too much “swatting” and too many parties, necessitated a light pack. My companion was firm. We _ shouldered packs, really unusually light for a climbing trip, and set off over the oprnn clflTlfu?. The rest of that afternoon was very unpleasant. The slope was very steep, the sun was very hot, and 1. was very tired. The going was up snowgrass, which is tricky stuff anyway! .You drive vour axe into the slope, take as largo a handful of grass as possible in your other hand, place your feet in some microscopic crevice, and lever yourself up. This soon becomes monotonous, to say the least. It "was, on similar country just across .the valley, on Mount Belle, that Bobbie lost his life two years-ago. - At last the grass ended. Wc wore standing on old snow bridging a stream scaked in spray from the waterfall which thundered between the black, glistening rocii ;.walla, above. Below Us the stream-.again Hell away into nothingness. Behind, was the narrow ledge by which we -had,come, in froilt* the slabby,.wet rock -by which We niiist "ascend. * Wo climbed on.-.: Bathed iff drifting 'siivay from' the cascades', swung off balance by -ungainly packs, we meandered on. It was as the long twilight was at last merging into dusk that we came out on f(he little stony plateau below the snowfields where previous climbers had constructed a rude -rock platform. Night fell as we cooked supper over a hissing “ meths ’ cooker. Far below the lights at the Homer Tunnel entrance were twinkling, and—only a stone’s throw away it seemed—the sheer black cliffs and serrated ridge of Mount Crosscut stood stark and clear in the bright moonlight. At dawn we were astir. A hasty breakfast, a sorting out of equipment, now only the absolute necessities of the climb or any emergency, and we were awav. Soon wo were at the snow; it was hard, wo, donned crampons, and as the spot was convenient also roped up at 40ft. The -way wound wearily upwards in the gathering light; Once the monotony was relieved when rocks fell from a stony face above and ahead. We thought no mofo of them. Then a few seconds later there was an angry hum as of an insect and the same rocks went past, too swift for sight, to be lost in the mists of the valley below. . At last the snow slopes ended and we took to rock, which at this time of the year was interspersed with steep patches and gutters of snow. It was slow work, riot helped by my lack of fitness, so by the time we reached the ridge black clouds were already sweeping from the north-west. We made haste then at_ the cost of much profanity and bruised fingers. To the left steep glacier ’slopes fell to Lake Marion. This northern face of Christina was attempted some years ago by Gilkison and Leader, who were unsuccessful and narrowly escaped a serious accident.

Now wo were climbing on the face again by a steep snow coulor up into tlie swirling mist. A momentary break in this driving cloud revealed a broad snow ridge stretching ahead. A hurried photograph before the mists came down once more, a few hundred yards of climbing—then the summit. We shook hands, but did not linger. The mountain was already showing signs of ■disapproval and her patience was not to be tried too highly. The afternoon found us plunging down through soft snow which nad been hard that morning. A schrund loomed out of the mist. The snow bridge by which we had crossed that morning was by now unsafe—we must jump. 1 jumped, tripped as I landed, and fell sprawling on my face, driving my ico axe in to the bead to hold me. The camera shot from my pocket, whizzed down the slope, and disappeared into the mist below. Sadly we hunted for it, hoping it bad to rest in one of the lower crevasses. However, it had not, so we reluctantly decided it roust now have reached the road, 4,000 ft down. It was raining when we reached the site of last night’s bivy. The rocks by tbs waterfall were wetter still. One would let down the other ou the rope, then loop it over a rock and slide down himself. On the snow grass again I blithely started off down the wrong gully. This necessitated retreat and an hour’s delay, for Christina allows the climber to use one route and only one. We were wet to the skin now, and darkness had fallen as at last we left the snow grass, stumbled over scree, and reached the car. At the camp we unkindly woke up Kurt to feed us. Some of the workmen, alarmed by recent accidents, had asked him to lead a rescue party if wo did not return soon. Kurt’s attitude was expressed by the words of the cook; “ Leave them alone, the rain will drive them down.” Next day it rained heavier than ever, so wc lav in bed and looked at Kurt’s

Swiss Alpine Journals, and my companion, enlivened by Kurt’s rum, wrote a glowing account of our scramble in tho Homer Hut visitors’ hook. It took many pages and was very poetical. Next day it was still raining, so we saw all we could see of the tunnel and heard the deafening roar of the first “shot” fired by the picked \Vaibi miners brought down from the north to put through a hole as quickly as possible. In the afternoon wo set off down the road by easy stages for home. This is the first climb of the new season. Other and far more ambitious expeditions are now being prepared, and before, Jong , elusive virgin* peaks will fall before members of the New Zealand Alpine Club.