MOUNTAIN JOYS.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXIV, Issue 19738, 10 September 1927, Page 1 (Supplement)

MOUNTAIN JOYS.

SUNSHINE AND SNOW.

BY ELSIE K. MORTON

Money can buy almost every pleasure, every new delight in this wonderful age, but there are just one or two for which you still have to go in quest—money cannot procure them. One is the sheer joy of the nature-lover at first sight of falling snow. So when I looked out of my window at Mount Cook one morning, and saw the world filled with whirling white flakes, my heart sang aloud with delight. Oh, the softness, the whiteness of the lovely, falling flecks, the swiftness of their descent, the beauty of the thick white mantle piling up on every stone and shrub! All the wide valleys stretching to the foot of the mountains were sheeted in spotless white; little drifts were piling up at the doorway, on the corners of the roof. And then 1 was outside, gathering newly-fallen snow in my hands for the first time, so marvellously soft and white, so easily made into snowballs, but oh, so cold when it struck you on the neck and trickled blithely down your spine! In half an hour it was all over. The sun came out from behind the blanket of clouds shrouding stately Aorangi, and there was only the hard, frozen snow like coarse sugar-crystals. But I had had my first snowfall; now the sun might go on shining as hard as it liked. On the Skis. Is there any sport in the world, 1 wonder, holding the thrill of a good run on the skis? You have to work for that first good run, you have to earn it in numberless somersaults, tumbles, and bruises, but it is well worth the pains and penalties! Our ski-ing ground was but five minutes walk from the Hermitage. Every morning we set forth, a party of thirty or forty, skis on our shoulders, booted, breeched and gloved for snow-sports. On a slopo nearly a quarter of a mile in length, novices found their feet and lost them . a few wavering steps, then the slope took charge . . . down, down, with your heart beating fast, the wind singing in your ears, past the little bush in safety, over the bumpy bit with a whoop," skis skithering wildly all over the track, then feet together once more, a swift dash over a dip, and out on to the straight with a triumphant flourish

. . . And sometimes tho little bnsh sprang up magically right between your onrushing skis, sometimes the steep bumpy bit accelerated your speed just a trifle too generously, and you ended up in unimaginable posture in smothor of snow and whirling skis. Let none who set high value on their dignity join the novices on the skis! Forget that you ever heard the word, and enjoy one of the most exhilarating and joyous of all outdoor sports! Up Mount Sebastopol. One morning we forsook the ski-ing ground, and made our first mountain climb. It was only to the snow-ridge above Red Lake, on the shoulder of Mount Sebastopol, but even a -little climb of 1500 ft. or so is quite a feat for the city-dweller who pays twopence to ride half a section in the tram ! Through scrub and small Alpine vegetation ran the steep mountain track. Wo came soon to a little gulch and a creek, and there we found new wonders, a whole forest of shining icicles suspended from the overhanging banks. Like long crystal daggers they glittered in the sunshine, some of them two feet in length, exquisitely symmetrical, ending in a single diamond drop. Then we came to the snow, and walked warily in the guides' footsteps, for there is nothing more exhausting than plodding uphill through deep snow. Before mid day we had reached the frozen lake In a little corrugated iron bivouac, round like a beaver's house, half buried in the snow, the guides lit a fire with kindling carried up in their packs. Since one may not boil the billy without fuel, they plied the flame with strips of old motor tyre, and the strong fumes of burning rubber replaced the familiar smell of tea-tree. But the tea was good as only billy-tea can be, and wo sat on the snow and ate and drank steadily for a glorious half-hour of mountain life. Five hundred feet farther up the snowslope to the ridge wo climbed after lunch, such a long, long, zig-zag upward trail, with the glittering snow white against the skyline, so intensely white under the strong sun that the blue sky looked almost black, and we dared only view the dazzling world through snow-goggles. A magnificent panorama lay outspread when vve reached the ridge, Sefton rising in majesty at the head of the Hooker Valley, Mount Cook, and his lesser brethren, Kin sey and Wakefield, towering above the snow-clad ranges, and like a river of white, the sweep of the Tasman Valley between steep mountain walls. The climb to the snow ridge took us over halt an hour; we came down in ten minutes, leaping, running, glissading, and ending in a smother of soft snow and prickly bushes heside the frozen lake. And then, a moment later, we had our first glimpse of real ski-ing. Th Norwegian guide, a ski-expert, appeared on the crest of the ridge and began the descent in long, sweeping, zig-zag runs. Here was the very poetry of motion, the easy grace of a bird on the wing, swiftness, poise, all those things that are the beauty of winged flight. In three minutes he finished up with a gliding run beside us. Child's play to the expert., but wonderful to us I The Glory of the Heights. One does not need to climb mountains no- even to dash down snow-slopes on sku Jo -rijoy Mount Cook Just to dweii Lhei-e tor a little space, in the shadow of the everlasting hills, n, c'wgh. if it be rest and peace you are sieking There is joy and exhilaration in the corn pany o.' those mighty, snow-crested mon archs of mountains, an uplifting of the soul that nevef comes to those who spend all their days in the lowlands. Two wondrous sights vou may see from the Hermitage without stirring from your window, sunrise on Mount Sefton. sunset on Mount Cook and nowhere in all the world may you behold a spectacle of more heavenly beauty. The mounting sun strikes on the glorious ores! >f Sefton, running in wave of (ire from the topmost peak across the wide ridge to the Footstool I'hen great waves >f. golden light How down and down, glinting on the face of the vast ice-wall, down the spurs and ridges, until the whole mountain glows arid burns in indescrib able beauty, lit with transcendent radiance which seems to reflect the glory and majesty of God's own dwelling-place of light. The glory oi sunset, oeiongs to Aorangi, monarch of mountains, even as that of breaking day is Sefton's own. Long after the light is gone from the valleys and the fires have died on the lesset peaks, Aorangi is crowned with a roseate glow, his topmost peak circled in crimson flame against tin night-Mile sky And so the days pass, days of sunshine and joy. and gradually comes the uplift of the everlasting hills. Here, two thousand years ago the Shepherd King found rest and peace unto his soul; to tired mortals to-day the mountains still call, eternal in their majesty and strength It is good for us to leave the lowlands, and raise earth-bound eyes and hearts to the shining heights.