MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SOUTHERN ALPS.

Otago Witness, Issue 3590, 2 January 1923, Page 60

MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SOUTHERN ALPS.

IN THE GODLEY VALLEY. A COUPLE OF PASSES. By T. A. Fletcher. (See Illustrated Pages.) Last January a party of four of us (Messrs Lipp, Sutton-Turner, Jamieson, and myself) made an attempt to get through to the West Coast across the Sealy Pass. We had established our base camp, as already described in the Otago Witness, and as soon as this was in order we set oh for the bivouac. This journey uusally takes about four hours, and our little tent was pitched on the old familiar spot where we had bivouacked the previous year. We did not know what was ahead of us. According to the maps we had about five miles to go from the top of the Sealy Pass to the point where the Scone Stream debouches into the Perth. Thence the distance along the Perth seemed to be about seven miles, where the main stream of the Wataroa is encountered, and from this spot a rough dray-road was shown. From information received we knew that the tracks up the Perth, formerly overgrown, had been reopened last year, and we hoped, by going down the Scone Valley, to be well on our way by evening'. We had read of the wildness of the West Coast rivers in Harper’s “Pioneer Work in the New Zealand Alps,” and we knew that we should encounter rough going. But we were in no wise prepared for the strenuous time we actually hack Words cannot describe what those West Coast rivers are like in their virgin state. Not knowing what lay ahead of us, we took provisions for three days, and some emergency rations in case sudden bad weather kept us locked up in the valley. Wb were up a-t 3 a.m. and left camp soon after 5 o’clock. In a little over an hour we were at the top of the pass, looking into Westland. There was a cold wind behind us, and we were glad to take shelter behind the rocks while we exposed a few. photographic films on the scenery. Looking into Westland, we could see 'little of the valley, for not very far down it took a bend almost at right angles, and there was a similar bend lower down still. The glacier was certainly much steeper than the Godley, hut this we expected, and it was evident that the valley was very narrow. Shouldering our swags once more we set off. As the divide at this point runs almost east and west, the valley of the Scone runs almost due north. On either hand rose steep clifls, from Petermann on the east and from Cumine on the west. We made good progress and came out at last at the top of a great ice-cliff, more than two hundred feet in height, just where the valley bends round to the north once more. It was down this icecliff that an accident occurred about 30 years ago, and we had not the slightest desire to repeat the performance of the unfortunate climber who slipped from the top to the bottom, where he landed with some broken ribs and some very severe bruises. While we were taking observations and photographs our guide retraced his steps a little to find a way down the valley. On the other side there was a huge sweep of old avalanche snow, which had evidently come down early in the season. Once we could get on to this all would be well, for at that time of the year it was quite safe. Lipp soon found a way through, and before long we were travelling down the snow at a brisk pace. We halted for a short meal at the foot, and found we had descended two thousand feet in a couple of miles. We crossed at once to the western side of the stream and set off again. The view was a most magnificent one. By looking down the Scone we could also see right up the Perth River, for the two valleys just there form an almost straight line. At the head of the Perth stood Mount Tyndall, just where the Cloudy Peak Range branches off the mam divide. Other prominent peaks to be seen (but off the divide) were Lambert Peak and Mount Adams. The thick bush on the lower slopes of the ranges, the little thread of silver water coming down the valley, the snowy tops of the peaks, round which the clouds were already beginning to play, and the blue sky above formed” a picture of unsurpassed beauty. The gorge in which we were was about as wild as could be imagined. The bed of the stream was one great confusion of huge boulders, over which the water tumbled in a series of cataracts. Before we had gone far we came to the region of the sub-alpine scrub, and then our troubles commenced. We clambered up those boulders, and down again; sometimes we went round them; sometimes we went under them; we did everything but go through them, though we often wished that were possible. At times the river-bed was quite impracticable, and then we had to take the hillside. This was, if anything, worse than ever, for the dense scrub covered up the roughness and inequalities of the slope. When putting our feet down we could not tell whether we were stepping on top of a boulder or into a gap between them. Generally it worked out contrary to what we expected, and our feet would break through into the crevice while our swags would become mixed up in the tangled scrub. At times the growth was thick enough to enable us to walk on top of it, but when we had to force a way through it progress was painfully slow, and the work involved was tremendous. It was a relief when we were able at last to crawl over and around the boulders. To make conditions still more unpleasant, a few light showers of rain fell. They were not sufficient to wet us, but they wet the scrub, and that in its turn did the job quite as effectively as the rain itself could ever have done.

We ,soon saw that, unless something very unforeseen happened, we must abandon all hope of getting as far down as we had expected that evening. Presently the bush-line was reached, and then our path was even more restricted. Forcing a way through the virgin forest was not quite as bad as forcing a way through the sqbalpine scrub, but as a labour of love it has little to recommend it. Nevertheless, in spite of the strenuous toil, we could not but experience a Erreat sense of appreciation of the wonderful scenery all around us. The valley was much wilder than any flights of our imagination could have pictured it. Farfamed as the Otira is, it does not approach the rugged grandeur of the Scone Valley. Finally, towards sunset, we came upon a huge bluff, about three or four thousand feet in height, almost sheer, and with the river running swift and deep at the foot. To work round the cliff was impossible. To cross the river was equally impossible. We searched in vain for stepping-stones or convenient shallow places, but in that rushing, foaming torrent there was no friendly aid. Had we attempted to step on any of those submerged rocks the force of the water would have swept us off our feet, and as we had no means of sparring the stream we held a council of war. We could not cross the river, it was certain, and to clamber over the cliff and down again would take the best part of a valuable day, and unless the going improved very considerably the journev would see us at the end of our provisions. We could hardly spare the extra time, for we had other plans ahead of us, and so we decided to camp for the night where we were, and to return to the foot of the pass next day. We pitched our tent in the middle of the forest and cooked our evening meal, and then, while the bell-birds sent forth their melodious chimes, we turned in for a well-earned sleep. The journey back was made without incident, except that the work was no easier, and we reached the foot of the avalanche snow about 4 p.m. We camped again for the night, and early next morning we set off up the pass. By climbing steadily the top was reached in about three hours, and after leaving some of our goods at the bivouac site we made for the base camp to replenish stores and to prepare for the attack on Mount Petermann.

Another pass that has been used in the Godley district is the Terra Nova Pass, right at the head of the glacier, and leading over into the Rangitata. It is on the Two Thumb Range, not on the divide, and it was first crossed by the late J. R. Dennistoun when he travelled from the Rangitata to the Hermitage via the Forbes, Godley, Classen, and Murchison Glaciers. Mr Kennedy and myself visited it last year on one of our spare days. From the top a very fine view is obtained. On the left is the noble peak D ’Archaic, the highest peak in the district, while away in the distance many of the loftiest peaks of the Hermitage district may be seen. It is very hard to realise the true dimensions of a glacier until one has actually been on one. Even then distances seem to be small'until one sets out to walk. It is only by experience that one can judge correctly distances in the mountains. In these regions of vast heights a mile seems but a stone’s throw, and man is the small, insignificant speck on the landscape who seeks to enjoy the beauties of Nature and to pit his skill against the defences of the mountains.