THE FIRST COMPLETE ASCENT OF MOUNT COOK.

Otago Daily Times, Issue 10289, 21 February 1895, Page 2

THE FIRST COMPLETE ASCENT OF MOUNT COOK.

ASKEW ROUTE FROM THE'HOOKER

Mb T. 0. Fife's Account.

Tho history oE Mount Cook from an Alpine climber's point of viow is now prebty well known to Now Zealanders, so that in recording the first completo ascent of the mountain it is only necessary to very briefly allude to previous expeditions. To the Kov. W. S. Green, who visited New Zealand in 18S2 for tho special purpoEe of ascending the pe*k, belongs all the credit of tho initiation of Alpine climbing in New Zealand, and one cannot say too much in pmise of his difficult expedition in company with Boss and Kaufmann in the early days, when there were no coaohes, no tracks, and no Hermitage or Tasmau Hut to offer friendly shelter to the weary or storm-bound traveller. Mr Green did not quite reach the summit of the mountain, and ever since then a number of NewZealandclimbera —mostprominont amongst whom may be regarded Mr G. K. Mannering, of Christchurch, and Mr M. J. Dixon, of North Canterbury—have been striving for the honour of the first ascent.

Early in the present season n party, comprising Messrs Dixon and Malcolm and Kenneth Ross, started with the object of making the ascend of the highest peak by way of Green's route. The first attempt resulted in failure, owing to tho very severe weathur experienced at the Bivouac at a high altitude. A few days lator the Koss Brothers and Dixon were joined by myself aud Graham; bub we were again unforfcuuato, and from one cause or another the peak still defied us. On .one occasion we got within 200 ft of the summit, but turned, as there seemed some doubt of there being sufficient daylight lefb to enable us to roach the Bumruit and get out of our ice steps above the Linda Glacier before nightfall. A final unsuccessful attempt by Green's routo was made by Dr Cos, Mosprs Dixon, Graham, and the writer, and at length, as the other members of the party bad to retnrn to their general avocations, there were only Graham and myself left. Though moot of the preceding climbers had followed closely in Green's route, and Green himself had been dissuaded by Dr Yon Haast from trying for a route on the Hooker side, I held to the opinion that a practical way to the summit might be found from the upper part of the Hooker Glacier.

Accordingly, on the morning of December 11, about a month after our arrival at Mount Cook, Adamson (of the Hermitage) and I left for a preliminary exploration of the Hooker side of the mountain. HaviDg nothing but a camera and a little food to carry, we romped along quickly, reaching the first ice-fall by 9 a.m. We had come little difficulty in crossing sevoral of the crevasses—one, which had fallen in, we descended into and cut steps up the opposite lip; but greater difficulty was experienced in crossing the debris of an avalanche which had apparently fallen from the Empress Glaoier. To walk erect was impossible, and our only means of progress was by crawling on all fours •—very trying sort of work.

The bergschrund below Harper's Saddle wa3 Cached and crossed by 2 p.m., and then an hour's laborious step-cutting up an extremely cteep ice-slope—hand-holes having to be cut in places—brought us out on the crasfc of the ridge scrno 100 ft higher than the actual saddle. This saddle, 8500 ft above sea level, was first "done" by A. P. Harper—the first secretary of the New Zealand Alpine Club—after whom it is named. It leads over on to the La Ferouse Glacier, one of the principal feeders of the Cook river, flowing into the West Coast;. On our way up I had eagerly scanned the mountain and had picked out two possible routes whereby I thought the summit of Aorangi might be reached. The more feasible way viewed from Harper's Saddle appeared to be to reach the western spur of the lowest or most loutherly peak, and then from that point to follow along the ridge over the middle peak, and thus up to the top of the highest peak. The other route, and the one by which we ultimately reached the top, was to keep up the Hooker Glacier to its termination, np a nastylooking couloir to what has been called Green's Saddle, on the great Tasman arete, and then to follow the ridge of the latter to the summit. The greatest difficulty of this route appeared to bo a large " bergschrund" at the head of the glaciar. Bergschrunds are great chasms in the ice, which usually occur at the haad of enowfields. Besides being of great width — often from 30ft to 40ft—they are made much more formidable by the upper lip standing much higher than the other, with heavy overhanging eaves. Snow bridges often form across thosa fissures, by which they may be crossed ; but, failing these, they are sometimes insurmountable. . ..,-.■

We had not sufficient time to reach this point and investigate, so I tliere sud then decided to first try the western spur of the lowest peak, and after making a few exposures with the camera we started homewards at 3.30 p.m. Wewere very hungry; and alas! we had eaten all our supplies. Never shall I forget the joy I experienced on finding the bone of a fowl ■which I had picked and thrown away coming up, but now was content to suck all the way home! The hotel, after a long, broiling day, was reached some time pact midnight. Oar faces were terribly burnt with the sun. So painful were they that even to smile was impossible, and any would-be joker was immediately silenced in a most effective if not an altogether playful manner. On December 16 Graham and I left, the Hermitage late in the afternoon, and, keeping along the Hooker track for six miles, camped on the left of Fairbanks creek. . This place—which as a camping ground was all that one could desire —we afterwards made oar headquarters. A light nor'-wester. had been blowing all day, and as the sun set it: increased and brought much rain. The rain continued to fall at intervals nest day, and, as being cooped up in a 7 x 5 tent with nothing to do but smoke is not very conducive to good spirits, we grew ill-natured and growled at everything. Graham wont out seveial times, and vented his ■pent-up feelings in vain efforts to murder a solitary kea, which, wheeling round in circles, screeched so derisively at him that he vowed he would devote the rest of his life to the extermination of the species. The morning of the 18th broke fine, and as •we watched the mists gradually rise higher and higher, revealing the peaks of first one and then another giant mountain, our spiritß began to lise wonderfully also. To be even alive on snob a morning at such a place gives one a feeling of happiness and contentment dear to all lovers of nature.

We decided to spend that day reconnoitring, and leaving the camp at 9 a.m. we kept along the lateral moraine for about a quarter of a mile before turning on to the glacier. Expecting to find the crevasses of the Hooker much worse than they were on our first reconnoitring expedition, we carried along somo branches of scrub, intending to leave them bit by bit to mark the best route. The first ice-fall brought us to difficulties; snow-bridges by which Adamson and I had crossed were entirely gone, and the crevasßss were all much more open.

This Hooker Glacier breaks up very early in the season, and the great number of longitudinal and transverse crevasses which intersect and form square-topped towers of ice called seracs makes it very difficult to get over. After two hours' threading in and out we got through the worst ice-fall, and then the glacier ■was comparatively easy walking. Reaching a point directly opposite Bakers Saddle, we tamed off from the main glacier on to a long snow-slope lying between the Empress and Noelline Glaciers.

What we most desired was to find a suitable place for a bivouac at as high an elevation as possible, and with this object in view we directed our steps towards the top end of » rib of rocks, the height of which was about 6500 ft. Beaching this, we found that the top .was oovered with Bmall soree or stones, and would, with a little levelling, afford us seme shelter for p, night. It was still early in the day, so, after a short rest, we ascended for another hour to get a better view of the upper snowfields of the Empress Glacier coming down from Mount Cook. We could from our standpoint see almost the whole route, and concluded that the only doubtful part was the upper rocks under the first peak. Our descent to the Hooker Glacier was delightfully rapid and pleasant. The snow boing in perfect condition, we glissaded the whole way, shooting scores of small crevasses in great style. This glissading or shooting down a snow slope is very exhilarating, and sometime slopes that have cost hours of hard work in Btep-cuttinc coming up may be descended in » few minutes. On our way down the Hooker Glacier we agreed to explore the right side for & better route. Some avalanche debris' from the Moorhouse Range that choked up the fissures on that side was tempting, but the line of route was dangerous on account of the likelihood of a fall occurring at any moment. Hawever, we found that we conld pass so quickly over the dangerous part that the risk was reduced to a minimum, and wo always afterwards used this route. We reached Fairbanks creek at 6 p.m., and after a refreshing dip in its cold waters (its temperature generally being under 3Sdeg Far.) we were soon fast asleep on our luxurious couch of snow-grass. Our programme now was to bivouac on the rib of rock we had chosen, and then the following day make our assault on the peak. The weather was so settled next day that we decided to do without a tent, and, each taking a blanket and food sufficient for two days, we reached our bivouac at 4-.30 p.m. Whilst Graham boiled the billy I levelled off a spot about 6ft by 4ft. This was sheltered on one side by a large rock, and we protected it on the other by building a break-wind. The surroundings of this our second bivouac were wonderfully grand and impressive. As I lay snugly wrapped in my blanket I could juet see the topmost tip of Aorangi peeping over a rugged spur, appearHHy jn. jtft. jmnmmlatft-.jpnriffi.against thfl-dfiaft

blue sky liko a bit of oloud. Then St. David's Dome, with its aolt, beautiful carves, formed quite a oontrost to Mount Stokes, from whose presipifcouß sides tho avalanches never coassd to foil. Immediately below us, and stretching away up to the very summit of Aorangi, lay the Empress Glacier, apiotureon which the eye never tired. Falling over an almost perpendicular wall of rook it joins the Hooker—a wonderful mass of Bisrae ice—whioh, lit by the departing sun, showed the most ! exquisite colours imaginable. | I was early astir, being as usual unable to sleep on the small stones, and bad the fire blazing at 1.30 a.m. Heating some soup and making tea I hustled Graham out of the blankets, and as the night was beautifully mild (34-deg. F) we sat in perfect enjoyment at our early breakfast. The first streaks of dawn appearod at 2.45, and hastily roping wo started off in the dim light up the steps we had broken two days previously. Keeping a little above where wo had turned on that occasion, we passed through a gap in the spur on to tho ne>6 slopes of the Empress Glacier. After crossing a crevasse on a rather frail snow bridge, we had several more to negotiate beforo reaching a long Blope lying between tbe true western spur and an off shoot whioh rang in a more northerly direction. The snow was very hard, and steps had to be chipped with the axo. Nearing the termination of this ilope we took to the spar, thinking it would be quicker and that we should avoid somo nasty-looking .cracks running right across from side to side. The ardfco became so bad and irregular that we were soon forced to take tho slope again. On coming to its head some slight difficulty was experienced in finding a place to get on to the spur; but. once gained, it proved good, and for about 500 ft an easy grade. After this it became much steeper and gradually narrowed in to a sharp ridga. After some 2000 ft of rook climbing the lowest peak came in sight, and at 10.30 a.m. we stood on tho true western arete running up to the same. We had now the choice of cutting steps up on to the crest of the arete or, by keeping down a little on the northern aide, of akirting along the rocks. We choso the latter, and found that, although owing to their being partly buried in snow they were difficult, still they were much easier and quicker than stepcutting. We had now been in the sun some time, and a short halt was cried for " tucker." Vain efforts were made by one of the party to melt some snow, but even the sultry language he indulged in had no effect on its icy coldness. It is a strange sensation this, being surrounded by snow and ice, and, though "dying" for a drink, unable to obtain a mouthful. Skirting along these partly buried rocks, and cutting a few steps here and there across slippery patches, nothing stopped us, and at 11 a.m. we stood on the highest rocks. We were now at an altitude of 11,700 ft, and our prospects of doing the remaining 609 odd feet looked " rosy."

From here it was necessary to descend about 400 ft to reach the saddle which separates the first and second peaks. This we had little difficulty in doing, good rocks running right down. The sun was now very powerful, and we took advantage of it to melt the snow and drink to our hearts' content. Step-cutting commenced at a couloir which runs from the Empress Glacier right up to this col, and the axe was kept steadily going until the summit of tbe middle peak was reached. On nearing the crest of the ar6te we soon had ample evidence that it was heavily corniced, the axe going right through when we were several feet from the edge. It may be here explained that a cornice is a great cave of snow which projects ■over a mountain ridge, and is due to the action of the wind. Cornices are most treacherous, and have to be avoided at any cost. Keeping, therefore, about 20ft away from the true crest, we cut steps along tbe face of the ice-cap, thus practically making a long traverse. At 1 p.m. we stood on the top of the second peak, only 17Sft lower than the actual summit of the mountain. A glance and we saw that our chances of doing the remainder were remote. Although only so little in actual height above us, it was still a long way off, and the arete was so corniced,' and took so many turns, that to " do" the summit would require a' long traverse involving'many hours'work. Having the other route to fall back on, we decided not to expend our energies further on this one, and so again calmly accepted defeat. The vierf from the' second or middle peak was exceedingly grand, and it would be presumptuous for me to attempt any description. Imagine river and lake, bush and plain, sea and uky, all blended together and forming one vast panoramic picture, and some faint conception may be had of this entrancing view. Although we had not attained the topmost tip of Aoraugi we certainly had discovered an easy and, more important still, a safe route to the second highest point of the Southern Alps. So easy is this route that no doubt it will in the near future become a favourite excursion with tourists.

Shortly after 2 p.m. we started the descent, and caref ally going down the steps cut in the clear blue ice, soon regained the rocks. Stopping for some food on the highest rocks just below the lowest peak, Graham seized the opportunity and built a cairn, leaving a bottle in the centre. The descent down the rocks, was slow and tiresome, and it was 5 p.m. before we struck the long snow slope. The snow was now in grand order, and we took full advantage of it by glissading almost all the rest of the way to the bivouac. The only stops that were necessary were when crossing some specially wide crevasse, or in making a traverse to get, in a good uncrevassed 'line. ' Where'the slopes were not uteep enough plunging through the snow was the order of the day, and woe betide the man coming last on the repe if he made a false step, for he would immediately receive a jerk from his companion which, completely upsetting him, made him take an involuntary header into the snow. I have a vivid recollection of Graham's legs waving in mute supplication whilst he vainly tried to extricate his head and shoulders. All the smaller crevasses were shot glissading. Whilst shooting one the rope somehow became entangled, and pulled one of the party up with a jerk just as he got fairly across the fissure, his feet resting on one edge and the back of bis neck on the other. He was quite equal to the occasion, however, for, stiffening himself, he lay with perfect composure until assisted by his companion. The bivouac was reached without further incident at 6 p m., and hastily packing up our blankets, we glissaded to the glacier below. The bad ice-fall was quickly negotiated, and striking a bee-line across the glacier, Fairbanks creek camp was reached at' 8.30 p.m. The weather had been perfect all day, but it now commenced to rain, and there was every appearance of rough weather, bo that we decidod to find oar way down to the Hermitage that night. The track down is difficult enough to follow even in daylight, but by the feeble light of a candle requires infinite patience. We arrived at the Hermitage about 1 a.m., and after 21 hours' constant going we were only too glad to turn into a comfortable bed. In our last expedition we were fortunate in being joined by young Clarke, from the Hermitage, who had climbed with us last season, and whose enthusiasm gave new life to the ; whole affair. Leaving the hotel with six days' supplies, we made our first camp on the evening of the 22nd December, and got everything snug. Next day we toiled, painfully swagladen, through the ever-widening crevasses to a second bivonac farther up the glacier, narrowly escaping a fall of rocks that came bounding from the Moorhouse Range. We arrived sore and tired, although the actual distance covered and height gained wore trifling. Little inclined as we were for another day's swagging, 10 a.m. next day found us again wearily plodding on our upward course. We pitched the tent under the lee of a huge block of ice that had appirontly fallen from St. David's Dome at a height of about 8000 ft. An arch was cut into this block, a break-wind bnilt around, and so sheltered were we that I believe we could hava weathered a severe storm. Leaving Clarke in camp. Graham and I proceeded up the glacier with the double object of breaking steps and of exploring the large bergschrund at its head. We kept to the true right of the glacier goiug up, but found it very much creyassed and swept by avalanches from St. David's Dome and Mount Hecter. We passed some enormous crevasses. Some we estimated as being fully 200 ft across and of great depth. Another uncommon thing so high up was a vertical shaft descending into the glacier. Graham anchoring, I crawled to its edge and peered down, bat could see no bottom, its blue sides Bhading away until lost in impenetrable darkneßS.

Two hours brought us to the bergschrund, and our worßt fears were fully confirmed. No bridge of any description spanned its gaping depths. Oar only chance was to find a passage where ib ran out against the rock face of Aorangi. Traversing to this we saw that it was possible to descend right into the bergschrund and reach the rooks at itj end. These looked barely practicable. We kept to the left aide of the glacier going back, and found it mnch simpler, only one crevasse of any consequence having to be dealt with. Our bleak bivouac was regained just as the sun sank behind Mount Stokes. After some food and a refreshing drink of hot tea we lay down on our icy-cold couch, fondly hoping to snatch a few hours' sleep. Vain hope! On going to rest at these high camps the usual plan is not to undress but to crowd on everything obtainable, and anyone leaving an article of clothing lying about is sometimes greatly surprised at the mysterious manner in which it disappears at night, but always religiously tarns up again in the morning in time to be rolled into the owner's swag. At 2 a.m. Graham, shivering and growling, arose to prepare breakfast. We had brought a good supply of dry firewood from our first oamp, 'md breakfast was ready much too soon for Clarke and I, who were making the most of the blankets. Getting on our boots with great difficulty—they being turned, apparently, into something akin to cast iron—we packed up everything we were likely to require, and, roping together, moved upwards at 3.15 a.m. The snow was very hard, but the steps we had broken the previous day were of great assistance, and an hour's climbing saw us standing on-th&lowerlip-ef the bergschtund. Letting

oat tho rope to its fall length, ono of the party descended iuto the borgnohrund and squirmed along the ledge of rocks as far as the rope would reach. Then the others crossed ou to tho rocks. Clinging as we wore to a narrow ledge, with scarcely any hand or foothold, and with an almost perpendicular drop into the ohasm below, our position was far from enviable ; and, as the leader slowly and with great difficulty made his way upward, a slip seemed, to say the least, net altogether improbable. Some snow lying on the ledge had to bo shiftod, and caused a little delay, and for 40 minutes the excitement and suspense Were too intense to be pleasant. However, we managed to get across in safety. Above we found the snow hard, and we kept well against the rocks for handholds. Thin slope gradually converges into a deep ravine formed by the frowning craajs of Aorangi ou tho ouo side aud by Mount Hector on the other. Beginning at Green's Saddle and running out in the slope just above the bergschrund, a rib of rocks divides this ravine into two narrow icefilled couloirs. As we got higher up tho amount of snow lying on the slope became less and lens, and at last the clear blue ice was reached. Cutting steps across a little branch couloir, we decided to cress the couloir lying between us and the rib of rooks, and to endeavour to keep along its ridge. At first these rocks proved difficult, a rotten slaty rock haviog to be dealt with, but they improved towards their top end. As we neaced Green's Saddle the arete of these rocks became very sharp, with precipitous sides, and in two places was capped with ice. We had to cut steps up these places, and without further bother reached a point a few feet below Green's Saddle at 8 a.tn. Here we were stopped by a break in the rib which completely barred direct access to the saddle. Turning a little to the left, we climbsd up over what was perhaps the worst rock of the whole ascent, on to the southern arete of Hoctor, and from thence descended to the saddle. The arete which runs from here to the summit of Aorangi is, with the exception of one slaty stratum, composed of good, sound rooks. This slaty stratum, about 30ft in height, was most difficnlt. Half-way up, the leading man got into difficulties, all holds being just beyond his reach, causing him to make an awkward traverse by hand-holds only to a little chimney, up which he writhed his way. Above this, the going was good, and we rapidly rose. Looking back at 10.30 a.m., wo could see that we were far above all the surrounding peaks, and, although the top of Aorangi could not be seen, we knew it could not be far distant. One wall of slate brought us to a standstill, and we had to descend a few feet, leave the ridge, and work our way round the obstaole. The wind was now piercingly cold and we were glad to muffle our faces in anything to protect them. A few minutes' respite from its bitter blast and a slight snack were now very acceptable, and we climbed down to shelter on the sunny side. What with consulting maps and sketching, the " few minutes " were prolonged into an hour and a-half, and it was just mid-day as we filed off upwards. At 12.30 the slope of the arete became easier, and shortly afterwards the final top appeared about 400 ft above us. •

I am afraid that the reckless way in which we romped over those last rocks was very foolhardy, but one would indeed need to be phlegmatic not to get a little excited on such an occasion. Tbe slope of the final ice-cap was easy and only required about 100 steps, which were quickly cut, and at 1.30 on Christmas Day we exultantly stepped on to the highest pinnacle of the monarch of the Southern Alps.

Three principal aretes meofc at the summit. The angles of two of them, the southern and northern, are fairly steep right to the summit. The other, the Tasman arete, is an e»By grade. The actual top consists of a sharp ridge sloping quickly north and south,' a precipice on the eastern side, and a cresent-shsped ice-cap running from the western side. Westward, our view was somewhat marred by clouds, but beyond the clouds the coast line, especially towards the north, could be seen stretching mile after mile. Eastwards, owing no doubt to the great heat, there wa3 a haze through which we could just discern the ocean. Southwards, towards the coast, we saw a very high peak, which we took to be Mount Aspiring. Turning northwards we looked into the very heart of the Southern Alps. Range after range, and peak after peak in wild confusion impressed one with an almost overpowering sense of desolation and solitude. A phenomenon which, as far as I can remember, has seldom previously been noticed in New Zealand, was the curvilinear dirtbands. extending across the Tasman Glacier, which from this height were olearly visible. A short stay of 20 minutes only was made on the summit, and then leaving an old sugar bag spread on the ice-cap, with the idea of seeing it afterwards from the Sealey Range with the aid of a glaas, we Btarted off downwards. The first rocks wero soon reached, and here we portioned out the remainder of our food. We also built a cairn, leaving a tin on which Graham scratched surname 3 and the date.

We left these rocks at 2 p.m., and kept closely to the way by which we ascended. We goon came to the steeper rocks. Now came the real elimbicg. The last man on these recks descents has, much the worst of it. In bad places he must anchor and. assist the others down, but of course can receive no assistance, himself. Green's Saddle was passed by 5.20, and just as we got a few feet below, a large avalanohe of rocks shot playfully past, making the Very mountain trembte as they ricochetted from crag to crag down the mountain side, fragments, as when a shell bursts, leaping up. Going down the slaty, rocks near the couloir, Graham made a slight slip, and making a grasp to maintain his balance dropped his axe into one of the narrow couloi.-s. Down, down it slid, until at last it was lackily arrested by a lump of snow just on the edge ef a crevasse. At first we could flee nothing but to cut steps down to it— a longish job,—but afterwards thought of a plan whereby that labour.might be avoided. Fixing the rope to a sound rock and letting it out to its full length, Graham lowered himnelf 100 ft and just managed to grasp his axe. His performances comiDg up, if not altogether graceful, were at least amusing. This delayed us the better part of an hour—a delay that we could ill afford, as it would soon be dark. When nearing the bergschrand an ominous, not-to-be-mistaken whiz above warned us that danger was coming. Crouching close in to the rocks, several pieces of stone went pinging over us at a pace that rendered them invisible and buried themselves feet deep in the soft snow. This particular place is in my estimation tbe only dangerous part of the whole route, but fortunately only so in the afternoon. All the way down I had been anxiouß to get across the bergachrund before dark, and, but for the dropping of Graham's axe, we would have done so. It was with great uneasiness I saw that we should have to stand out all night or risk climbing down in the dark. The latter was preferred. Too dark to see either hand or foot-holds, our sense of touch was all we had to rely on. One at a time we moved on, the other two endeavouring to anchor; but, judging from the holds that I myself could obtain, a slip by one would have "done for" us all. However, the schrund was left behind, and with it the greatest difficulties of the descent. Now for the first time we gravely congratulated each other on the ascent and descent of Mount Cook. We reached the bivouacs tired and wet, only to find that one side of our snow breakwind had fallen on to the tent and, melting, had soaked everything. It wan very cold, and it is not all joy pitching a tent with the thermometer down to about 28deg. We turned in supperless : no one volunteered to face the cold and melt come snow. So cold did we become that at last we were forced to burn a candle in a tin can underneath the blankets, while the honra of darknees passed wearily away. Day d&wned at last, and, hastily packing up, we plunged away down the glacier. We reached our first camp at 7 a.m., and were glad to rest till 10.30, meanwhile basking in the sun and making great inroads into a bag.of oatmeal. As we lay, idly watching the north-west clouds swirling overhead, our trials were all forgotten, and I regretfully thought—there is but ons Aorangi.