A MEMORIAL IN THE MOUNTAINS.

Otago Witness, Issue 3557, 16 May 1922, Page 54

A MEMORIAL IN THE MOUNTAINS.

THE LATE H. E. GIRDLESTONI

By

“Gentian."

(See Illustrated Pages.) Ruapehu, the highest mountain in the North Island, presents from most aspects the appearance of a short mountain ridge with gentle slopes rising towards the summits. Few outstanding peaks or prominences mar the general sense of repose inspired by the graceful restfulness of this snow-capped quiescent volcano. Nevertheless there is character about the grand old monarch, and his many-sidedness, whether viewed from far or near, is an unfailing source of interest and inspiration which the more symmetrical cones of typical volcanoes can never hope to supply. On this summit is a wonderful crater lake of varying temperature, towards which a circular glacier creeps incessantly and discharges its icebergs. In all the upper ravines (many probably portions of old craters) rest beautiful glaciers, revealing in the mysfic blue-green glow of their crevasses depths of a hundred feet or more of crystal ice. Waterfalls spring into being below the glaciers, and every ramble on the mountain, whether through beech forest, alpine meadow, or the bare upper slopes, reveals new beauties and wonders. The casual traveller, who views the mountain from railway or highway, dimly realises all this as his eye turns ever and again towards this Heart of the Island, and on him falls the spell that its changing scenes suggest. His eye is caught bv the easy climbing ridges, the glaciers, and the snowfields; and on the north he cannot fail to remark the Pinnacles—those jagged, splintered rocks that speak of some huge convulsion of past ages. As he travels southward his attention is caught by one outstanding feature that no other side of the mountain presents. This is a precipitous peak standing at the extreme southern end of the Tidge. It is only 500 ft lower than the summit itself, but on account of its isolation and the sharp, needle-like distinction that characterises it, it presents a marked contrast to the higher, although less defined, peaks overlokoing it. Strangely enough, this singular pinnacle does not appear to have possessed a name known to the earliest surveyors. A tradition exists that it was originally known as Paretetaitonga by the Maoris, but that this name has since been wrongly recorded on the second highest point of the summit ridge. About the year 1908 a Government surveyor, who spent the greater portion of his spare time amongst these mountains, named this peak “The Matterhorn,”—and the title became established on Tourist Department and other maps of the Tongariro National Park. This mountain-lover was Hubert Earle Girdlestone, who, on account of his work in this direction, was elected a Fellow of the Roval Geographical Society. He did more than any one man to popularise the park, and most of his holidays for a number of years preceding the war were spent in taking up large parties for rambling, climbing, and general exploration purposes. His interests were wide and his circle of friends great and real. As a sportsman and a comrade he was sought and valued everywhere, whilst even those who came within but casual contact of his personality were impressed by his sunny manliness. But it was not only on account of these more obvious qualifications—which, after all, have spoiled many a good man—that he was esteemed by those that knew him best. Popularity never spoiled “Girdie. ” His true heart and loyal nature preserved him as a real Sir Galahad of modern life. Proud as he may reasonablv have felt of a century scored at cricket or of tries on the football field or of a gold medal earned for gvmnastics, he never paraded it; and the favoured few who were, intimate with the love and affection he cherished for his home life with his widowed mother knew that the real pride he possessed was summed up in his, “I am the man of the house!" The Great War swallowed him, and left a blank in his home and amongst his friends such as was. alas! but too commonly experienced throuhout the world during that sad period. Amongst those that knew Girdlestone it was felt that his work in the Tongariro Park deserved national recognition, and this was accorded his memory by renaming his own-named Matterhorn —“Girdlestone Peak.”— A. movement was also set afoot last year to erect a memorial on this peak, and readers may remember that two attempts have already been made. During Easter of 1921 a party of his friends conveyed the granite slab to the Ohakune Mountain House, thence up Ruapehu, and across the Mangaehuehu Glacier to within a few hundred feet of the summit. They were reluctantly compelled to abandon the final ascent owing to a violent gale arising, which, with its attendant Arctic conditions, would have rendered the attempt of the last stage* sheer folly. A short but impressive dedication service was, however, held before the party deposited the slab in safety and returned to camp. A fortnight later another attempt was made —this time from the Karioi side; but savage winter conditions again intervened, and when the climbers had reached the same altitude as the Easter expedition, but on the opposite side of the peak, they were again compelled to return. No further attempt could be made with any real hope of success owing to the lateness of the season, and the tablet and tools reposed under the snow and ice for nearly 12 months. On the 11th day of April, 1922, a party of eight old comrades met at Karioi resolved on completing the establishment of the memorial on the summit of the Matterhorn.

The first nay was spent in reaching the camping site, about 19 miles north east of Karioi, in pitching tents, and in making general preparations. Next morning broke with the .promise if a good day, so, after an early breakfast, swags were shouldered and a start made on the ascent shortly after 5 a.m. No difficulties worth mentioning* were encountered until the tools left at last year’s effort were reached. Ihese were found still frozen stiff in the sack they had been buried in. One long snow-slope had already been ascended, but the climbers were now near the 8000 ft level, and the really steep portion of the ascent lay ahead. First, however, it was necessary to contour round under the overhanging bluffs towards the northern side of the peak, where the tablet had been left. Travelling was very slow, and on one or two glassv ice slides steps had to be cut with the axes to enable all hands to pass safely across. The mighty disintegrating action of frost and thaw was everywhere in evidence, and rocks and boulders had to be treated warily. —A Magnificent ricture.— < Up till this stage of the ascent only Girdlestone Peak itself was visible, for its mass obscured the remainder of the mountain from view. Now. however, we were rounding the southern buttresses, and appeared suddenly on the western side. The picture presented to our gaze was a magnificent one. Ruapehu rose straight ahead. Beneath us. and rising steeply towards the black ramparts supporting his snow-crowned crater, lay the Mangaehuehu. Glacier in all its dazzling whiteness. Our track led us to its edge, which we ascended for a short distance before turning towards the east again into the saddle where we had left the tablet. A steep climb of a few hundred feet over loose rocks brought us safely to our objective, which we found quite unharmed bv its year’s neglect. A short spell was made here, and then the final climb up steep masses of huge splintered rocks was safely accomplished. It was now long past midday and much work still remained to be done. Fortunately climatic conditions were all that could be desired. A rock had been selected during a preliminary investigation prior to the previous Easter attempt. This was right, on the summit, and to this rock the tablet had to be secured. Holes were bored with hammer and drill, snow was melted in a spirit stove, and mortar was prepared. The slab was then fixed in position by means of copper bolts concreted into the holes prepared. Suitable precautions were taken to prevent frost interfering with the cement or fracturing the slab. Whilst we worked our eyes wandered often to the view beneath and around us. We were above a sea of clouds and mist, now swirling close around and blotting out our sight of the world below, and again rolling back and permitting us to see the splendours of the peaks and glaciers near at hand and the calm peacefulness of the sunlit plains far beneath. Our thoughts though were with the old comrade whose memory we were honouring. He had been with us on days such as this, and we knew how he loved the scenes we were now viewing ; and when our work was finished we stood bareheaded by the memorial, . and one friend spoke our thoughts of the grand man we were remembering. The restfulness of the oncomin evening settled down on us amid the weird silence of the heights and solitudes around, and with our last look at the memorial the knowledge came home to us that our dear friend also rested, and that his memory, liKe his name, would have an abidingplace among the mountains that he loved so well. x