MOUNT COOK DISTRICT

Korero (AEWS), Volume 3, Issue 4, 26 March 1945, Page 3

MOUNT COOK DISTRICT

IF you were to travel in an aeroplane from North Cape to Bluff on a clear day, the most impressive natural feature of the land you would see would probably be the central region of the Southern Alps. Here, in a compact group roughly a hundred miles due west of Christchurch and not far from the other side of the South Island, stand seventeen ice-clad mountains towering to more than 10,000 ft. This is the Mount Cook district. It has interesting post-war possibilities. With transport and accommodation problems solved, it could well become the snow-sports playground of the South Pacific. For nowhere else on this side of the Southern Hemisphere is there snow in such quantity for round-the-year ski-ing ; or peaks more likely to delight the mountaineer ; or alpine scenery—glaciers, icefalls, and lofty summits—more likely to charm the, tourist’s eye.

Certainly this is looking ahead. So is that aeroplane ride from North Cape to Bluff, these days. Just the same, an aeroplane is the thing for sight-seeing here. Fantasy should be proper for the fantastic, so let’s invent ourselves a new kind of magic carpet which needs no fuel and ignores down-draughts. It will be ideal for a kea’s-eye view of this incredible country.

First, we’ll cruise over the lonely ocean off the coast of South Westland. From here these mountains seem to rise almost sheer from the sea. A coastal belt of

darkly forested land, seamed vertically by the gleaming ice of the Franz Josef and Fox Glaciers flowing down for thousands of feet almost to sea-level ; above them the great snowfields, measured by the square mile ; above the snowfields the high peaks topped by the shimmering beauty of Mount Tasman (11,475 ft.) and the rugged grandeur of Mount Cook (12,349 ft.). A tremendous picture, this, twenty miles long and over two miles high. It earns a place among the scenic wonders of the world. Now for a closer look. Turn inland, and soon the Franz Josef is beneath, to the left ; the Fox, to the right. You wonder where all that ice comes from, and the answer is right ahead. Ice comes from snow, and here, above the glaciers, lie the snowfields, on a shoulder of the range at least twelve miles long and in most places not less than three miles wide. From the air this great expanse of snow looks almost flat, but in reality it reaches up in places to nearly 9,000 ft., while the lower fringes extend down to 5,000 ft. If you were a skier you would be tempted to parachute down with a pair of “ sticks,” for the ski-ing looks good. Plenty of undulating slopes ; above all, plenty of snow —miles of it.

The high peaks are close now : Douglas on the left, Torres on the right, Tasman ahead. The Fox Snowfield pushes snow fingers high into the rock cliffs. At the top of one of these fingers lies Pioneer

Pass, occasionally crossed by venturesome mountaineers. From the west you wonder why only occasionally. The approach looks easy — and it is easy. But wait until you cross into Canterbury and the difficulties show. An understandable misconception exists about the sectional topography of this region. Probably the glaciers are responsible. On the east side of the range the main glaciers are rivers of ice ; on the west, waterfalls. This gives the impression to many that the east slopes are gradual ; the west, abrupt. A mountaineer attempting a crossing soon learns that the reverse is the case. He will find that his pass is easy to reach from the west. It is when he steps from Westland into Canterbury that his troubles start. From the top of Pioneer Pass the Tasman Glacier is not far away, but it is a long way down. No trouble to your magic carpet, of course. Over the divide and out into the blue 5,000 ft. above what looks like a big white road. It is New Zealand’s longest glacierthe Tasman, eighteen miles long and a mile wide. Notice that it doesn’t flow away from the chain of high peaks ; it flows parallel with them, taking tribute from each in turn ; a gutter with a mighty high kerbing. At the head of the glacier stands Elie de Beaumont, most northerly of the " ten-

thousanders.” Not for nothing is it called the beautiful mountain. Here the glacier has its source, to flow south past the Minarets, de la Beche, Malte Brun, Douglas, Haidinger, and Haast. And bow another phenomenon is evident. While the glacier is descending to lower levels, the mountains alongside, conversely, rise to greater heights. A mile below Pioneer Pass the famous Hochstetter Icefall comes into view. It is a masterpiece among Nature’s works in ice—3,ooo ft. of crystal chaos framed by mountains gone superlative in grandeur. Here, within a three-mile

triangle, there is more mountain in less space than you have seen before. This is the view: at 4,000 ft. the Hochstetter joins the Tasman. Let the eye climb where no man has dared climb, up the cascade of tortured ice to the Grand Plateau. This is a shelf about a mile wide, lying at 8,000 ft. Beyond, the scenery climbs up rock rampart and hanging ice to the summits of Cook, Dampier, Silberhorn, Tasman, and Lendenfeld, standing sharp against the sky. All this, and almost heaven too, in three miles. Cook is like an outsize tent, badly put up, with a slope in the lofty ridge pole. The mountain spreads her solid mantle on the floor of the Tasman Valley at 3,500 ft., where the impudent Ball Hut road winds among the moraines. This eastern face, a mile and a half from top to bottom, will make your magic carpet look like a moth against a skyscraper. If you linger now, ft will be to take a last look at Mount Tasman. When the sun is right, just after midday, the east face of Tasman has all the superlatives floored. It is like the draped, shadow-lit curtain at the movie theatre, only this curtain is 3,000 ft. high and a mile wide, and the drapings are of ice. The sun lights each bulge, each fluting, and throws shadows down the face. This is the queen of snow peaks—hardly a rock shows. Climbers go up and come down, and touch no rock all day. Occa-

sionally avalanches thunder down to the plateau. On a hot day the face glows wetly. There are other valleys and other peaks, but we have seen the best. Perhaps by now you think you have seen enough. Perhaps you’re worried about this magiccarpet businesscertainly it would be too bad if it was to fade away and leave you here in the white wilderness. No comfortable hotels up here. Sing of peaks that through the cloudlands burst, And bars below for climbers with a thirst. A visitor wrote this in one of the huts in the Tasman Valley, but the nearest bar is much farther away than the nearest peak. At present, accommodation for those who come to this region is limited to hotels far below the snow-level, and a variety of huts built primarily to shelter mountaineers. The Haast Hut, at 6,800 ft., on the ridge close to the Hochstetter Icefall, is typical. It is perhaps 30 ft. by 12 ft., contains simple bunks for tired bodies, a rough table, a cupboard, and a kerosene cooker. It is difficult to reach, as are any of the high huts. In winter it is covered completely with snow. Every board and every sheet

of iron for its construction was carried to the site on the sweating backs of men. Obviously the problem of adequate accommodation above the snowline cannot be solved until transport has received some attention.

Before the war, plans were under consideration for the construction of cable-car runways to the permanent snowfields above the Franz Josef Glacier and on the Sealy Range near the Hermitage, in the Hooker Valley at Mount Cook. These developments were to cater mainly for the growing popularity of ski-ing. Where the cable car stopped, no doubt a hotel would be built, and later a ski-hoist, that admirable contraption which takes the hard work out of ski-ing. It is reasonable to expect that these projects will be resumed as soon as possible after the war. The growth of air travel should place this remote area with a few hours of any part of New Zealand and within half a day of Australia, where, in spite of very definite limitations, ski-ing has many devotees. There are airfields already in the Tasman Valley and on the Coast. With the development of air transport, cable-car ways, ski-hoists, and modern hotels near the snow, this district would have everything required to make it the year-round mecca of those who take their recreation on wood along the snow.

In spite of the handicaps which present conditions impose, ski-i ng has made remarkable progress in New Zealand over the last fifteen years. It is a sport which is growing in popularity all over the world. In this country there

nave oeen many obstacles. Most good ski-ing snow lies above 6,000 ft. Most mechanical transport ends at 3,000 ft. or less. The difference has been enough to take the edge off all but the hardiest enthusiasts. In many districts, especially in the North Island, the sport is restricted to wintertime, when days are short and temperatures chilly. Yet, in spite of these obstacles, the game has gone ahead. There is no doubt that it will continue to do so. Even war itself has added to the numbers —many of our servicemen overseas have been taught to ski as part of their training, and others who have been in places like Canada have picked up a rudimentary knowledge of the art during their stay there.

Weather has been a difficulty always, and there is no way of changing that.

Storms come and go — they didn’t, there would be no snow to ski on. The only thing that can be done about the weather is to make any enforced idleness bearable with counter-attrac-tions. A hotel has several advantages in this respect over a

hut. More rapid transport, however, and a keen eye for weather forecasts, would assist weekenders to select the right time for a couple of days with the “sticks.” The day may yet come when the high snows of the Southern Alps see hundreds of mountaineers, skiers, and tourists climbing, playing, or just drinking in the scenery among the imcomparable peaks and on the broad snows of this fascinating region, for a week-end or a week. It’s a healthy life, and a grand holiday. With ski on your feet, say the experts, you can enjoy the most thrilling form of locomotion known to man. Personally, we’re riot experts. The most thrilling manoeuvre we can do is the sit z mark, if you know what that is. But there will be time to learn in the days to come.