The Footstool, Aoraki National Park

5^th September-8^th September

The weekend after my return to Dunedin was coming up. The Southern Alps were to continue experiencing amazing weather and Danilo (Italian turned Kiwi who is well versed in the wild of the South Island) was scheming up ideas for his weekend. Some of his trips were partner dependant. I was keen to join but was also committed Friday night to a potluck. Upon hearing my interest and dilemma, Danilo suggested we do a two-day trip: the couloir on The Footstool. The what? Danilo handed me the guidebook. It’s a lovely 2764-meter mountain in Aoraki National Park that can actually be done in two days (unlike other peaks in the area which take 3 or more, without helicopter support of course). It stands upon the northern shoulder of the dark and intimidating Mt Sefton (3151 meters).  From carpark to Footstool’s summit it’s about 1900 meters with a mellow trail, a cobbled riverbed, slopes with tussock, snow and loose rock, and crevassed glaciers in between. Upon glancing at the guidebook and a picture of Footstool, I was in.

Sefton to the left and Footstool to the right.

 We returned from Debbi and Tim Lewis’s place Friday night at a reasonable hour for our big weekend ahead. We awoke early (not quite alpine early, maybe 4:30 AM), loaded the car, picked up two others (a young Swedish woman, Hana and Jonas, Penzy’s Swiss partner) and drove to Aoraki National Park. It was during a fuel stop on this trip that I received the call from Nate, informing me that he had X-rays done on his heel and his foot was broken. I was distracted that day from our mission, until I decided I needed to get a job ASAP, Danilo said we could stay longer at his place, and I managed to get a hold of a friend who gave me contact details for a possible job. Content with having a basic plan for the next couple months, I turned the phone off for the weekend.

We stopped in at the Mount Cook DOC center to see if we could gather information about recent conditions on Footstool. The woman at the counter handed us a huge binder with notes from climbers and rangers on the conditions of various mountains in the area from this past year. Turns out no one had climbed Footstool this year. A note mentioned that a large schrund had opened up at the bottom of the couloir, that may make the couloir inaccessible for part of the year. This news didn’t deter Danilo, who noted we will have a look for ourselves, and if need be we will go the easier route.

The coulior is just within the shadow
left and below the peak

We arrived the road’s end in Hooker Valley a little before lunchtime. It was sunny, clear and calm. Just down the valley on the Western side I could see our goal, which was not merely a bump on Sefton’s ridge. Above the steep glaciers towered a 70-90 degree triangular face with a sharp ridge traveling off to the south; all still covered in snow. I could just see our couloir route hidden at the edge of mountain’s shadow. My eyes however kept being drawn to Sefton, with its dark sheer faces beneath broken glaciers. A drastic, stunning peak to say the least. Might need to return and tick it off later.

We set out on a mellow graveled trail. In less than an hour we veered off the track near a moraine wall and began to navigate our way through bush and a cobbled riverbed. Soon we were following cairns up a ridge. We had lunch maybe halfway up the ridge from Sefton Bivy. There was a lack of flat spots, so we made do with carefully placing our packs and ourselves amongst the tussock on small shelves of dirt.

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I would like to take moment here in my normal ADD fashion to tell you that I’m writing most of this blog from the comfort of Homer Hut with a woodstove burning hot behind me (drying my hand-washed laundry). Once again, alone on a rainy day, but this time in the middle of Fiordland National Park and far from any bars or people (probably 30km). Outside is like a monsoon and the dry riverbeds you drive through to get to the hut have filled with water-ankle deep or more. In fact, there are now two rivers where there were none this morning. I am being flooded onto very small island of moss, trees, and gravel upon on which the minimally solar powered alpine club hut stands. Waterfalls are raging down everywhere on the 1500+ foot granite cliffs that surround my temporary home.

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On our journey up the ridge we paused to listen to the cracking and rumbling coming from Sefton. Occasionally we had glimpses of giant chunks of ice tumbling down past the cliffs, with a trail of snow just behind. What a temperamental sounding mountain. Eventually we put our crampons on and started up a short steep ramp of snow to the right of a crumbly rock step we would have otherwise had to climb. We saw a couple of skiers navigating down the glacier on Footstool. If I hadn’t heard the sound of their skis scraping icy snow, I would have been envious.

Sefton Bivy and one of the glaciers behind it.

Just as the sun began to fade (somewhere around 5ish), we arrived at Sefton Bivy; the roof stuck out about half a meter above the snow. As we approached we could see the water container and entrance had been kindly dug out by previous visitors. Before the light was gone we examined our route and discussed our plan of attack for navigating the glacier and then the schrund for tomorrow morning (which would all have to be done by headlamp). We then started cooking dinner and organizing gear. Water bottles were filled with hot water and we were cuddling with them in our sleeping bags by 7:30. I’m fairly certain I managed to fall a sleep before 8 pm.

Looking back halfway up the
the first pitch.

Daybreak and looking up at the couliour
and the crevasse below it.

My watched beeped too soon. Before 2 AM we were working our way out of the sleeping bags and boiling water for warm breakfasts and tea. In less than an hour we stepped our way up the icy snow, only hearing the crunch of the crampons. We had only the light of our headlamps and we tried to navigate our route based on how the ground dropped or rose around us; always trying to stick to the ridge to avoid navigating the crevasses in the dark. Soon however, we started to see the giant cracks in the ice that formed dark cavities. Our progress slowed as we tried to find our way in the dark. Eventually dawn began to break and we could see the coulior in front of us, along with the schrund. I was happy to finally have some light stronger than my headlamp; navigating a glacier in the dark was eerie, even when I was at the back of the line. As we approached the base of the couloir we were almost turned back by a exceptionally long crevasse. After some searching and cautious testing Jonas found a small, angled, tiered bridged for us to cross over one at a time.

Finally with the mountains glowing purple and pink in the morning light, we were at the base of the couloir. I tied in with Danilo and began leading, while Jonas and Hana went as a team and Jonas took their leads. All the way up the couloir we intermittently post holed, kicked steps and front pointed. On a couple of pitches Danilo snagged the lead. In the mean time I thought about how nice sections of this couloir were for making turns.  I would have to carry the skis up 1000 feet on my back before I could even put them on my feet.

A Top the Footstool looking West/Northwest

The cream of the coilour was the final pitch; solid, sustained alpine ice. Jonas had done the route finding before us, and was so kind as to dig through the small cornice that had formed at the top and to cut large steps in the meter of vertical. I was very thankful when I planted my two ice axes over the top and lifted my head above to find a narrow ridge with a steep drop on the other side. I carefully pulled myself on top, trying not to slide off the ridge in either direction. It was a techy ridge walk to the dip before the final climb to the summit. There Jonas and Hana waited for us. I was anxious to go for it was well past noon and the sun was beating down relentlessly on the Northern aspects- which was what we were to cross on our way down. I waited as Danilo went to the summit, taking a moment for myself to admire the feeling of being on top of the world and taking pictures in an attempt to capture the moment.

Once Danilo returned we were off , heading down and around the corner to find a steep snow face below rippled rime ice. A quick glimpse around showed no easier route. With a step into the punchy snow, we new it was not something we could protect or linger on. With every person for himself or herself because time was of the essence, we traversed the slope as quickly as we could.

Danilo crossing the Northern
rotten slope

Clouds rolled in making the descent challenging to find, but luckily we found footprints that led us in the right direction. With clouds moving in and out, we worked to follow the steps (and not lose each other), occasionally losing the faint prints and spreading to re-find them. Eventually they formed in a continuous path and in the intermittent white out conditions this helped us to navigate quickly across the lower glacier.

We arrived back at Sefton Bivy sometime after 4 PM.  We had a long break where we ate, drank tea and packed up the gear we had left there. Then once again we set out, determined to at least make it to the parking lot. It was a long hike by headlamp, a silent onward trudge, and the mellow track we had started on seemed to go on forever. Finally around 11:30 PM we neared the parking lot. I was fixated on bed and picked up the pace a little. WHAM!! Right on my ass. My one fall the whole trip was caused by the one small patch of ice on the mellow track, which I failed to see with my tunnel vision.

We were all sound asleep shortly after midnight on the cement floor of a shelter at the roads end. Around 5:15 AM, with nothing to eat, we all packed into my car once again and Danilo took the first driving shift to get us back to Dunedin.

I guess it was really 2+ day mission.

It’s A Tough Job Being A Blogger

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I have to apologize to my very few readers out there: I have not full filled my promise of blogging every two weeks. I temporarily lost interest in writing once I returned to Dunedin. When I was stationed once again in a home (Danilo Hegg’s, much thanks to him), I found myself absorbed with looking for a job (which is a full time job in itself), working, catching up with friends, and catching up with Nate once he arrived. Turns out, when there’s no paycheck or grade to earn, I have a hard time keeping myself committed to blogging on a regular basis, especially when I’m no longer limited to sitting in my car on rainy days.  Lucky for you, I’m now stuck by-myself in a bar in Wanaka once again on a rainy day. So I’m facing my commitment and playing catch up.

On the bright side, you haven’t missed too from the last two plus months. Once I returned to Dunedin, not only did my blogging come to almost a stand still, but my adventuring too (well, in comparison to my first two months in NZ). Some of you may not know but at the beginning of September, I received a phone call from Nate informing me that he broke his foot. He was to arrive in New Zealand about two weeks after that…Change gears, scrap near future plans. Living out of the car climbing/tramping was now out of the question for the next couple of months.

A typical scene at work.

With this new unexpected hiccup I spent the following week searching and applying for jobs. I figured if we were gonna be stuck in Dunedin while Nate’s foot healed, I should earn some money so when he can walk again, I’ll be able to play more and work less. Turns out, finding a job that you only want to commit to for a month or two is rather hard. In the end I went through a company that sets up temporary contract work for people through various companies. The job they lined me up for? Stevedoring (according to Wikipedia, also known as wharfie, wharf rat, or dock worker). For those who don’t know, stevedores are the people who work on the wharf loading and unloading boats. For me it entailed helping to load logs onto large cargo ships. A very exciting job for about the first two hours. At 3:30 AM on my first day I stood next to my 'safety hut' (made of plywood with some metal framing) upon a dock illuminated by giant artificial lights, watching giant machines swiftly maneuvering around the wharf to move large loads of logs. I learned pretty quickly where and when to walk so I didn’t get squashed, to watch out for giant swinging cables that could decapitate me in one blow, and how to insert the cables into a clamp so I didn’t lose my fingers in the process. Once you get used to the flow and how the system works however, it becomes a boring mindless job. I counted, scanned, and wire wrapped thousands of logs in my short time on the job. At least it paid $19 an hour and the co-workers were generally friendly. It's definitely the type of job where talking to your workmates takes the bite out the boredom; just don’t get too distracted or you could get smooshed.

In those first couple weeks back in Dunedin I also kept busy with completing another grant application to fund one of my dream trips for NZ. I am happy to report that while we didn’t receive the original grant, they were very impressed with the novelty of our idea and gave us a consolation prize which was still substantial. Come February or March, Nate, Max and I will be in Fiordland looking to set the first routes (that is without helicopter support) on the walls in Poseidon Creek Valley on Llawrenny and Terror peak. Sound enticing? We’re pretty psyched. If successful, it will be my most notable accomplishment in my whole climbing career thus far.

FMC Scholarship Article

In between job searching and the grant application, I filled in some more time by volunteering to do a solo presentation at a NZ Alpine club meeting about some of my adventures in the Rockies (in the hopes of inspiring Kiwis to climb/ski in the States). Being my first presentation in three years, I spent hours in the 2 weeks before preparing. Poor Nate listened to two dry runs before finally hearing the real thing. Despite my hands shaking so badly that I couldn’t use the laser pointer for the first half, the presentation went well, or so my friends nicely tell me. I do know I got the crowd of 25+ people to laugh, so that's something. More importantly, right after the presentation I was psyched to commit to being the Hut warden at Homer between November 24^th and December 29th (much thanks to Jaz Morris for putting in a good word for me; it's all about who you know here). All I’ll be doing for five weeks is climbing, hiking, and I guess blogging, because this will be my home for those 5 weeks: Homer Hut. Ahh, yip; I scored in having free accommodation in one of the most beautiful areas of New Zealand. And it’s more enjoyable to experience such an opportunity with friends, so please feel free to visit me while I'm there.

Me leading Labours of Love at Long Beach.

Nate playing on his new mountain board.

Fear not, we did not waste all of our time on the computer in Dunners. Somehow Nate and I managed to keep ourselves relatively busy. I joined Michelle in her climbing workout routine-training properly for climbing the first time. Thanks to the workout, I ticked off one of my goal climbs-Labours of Love (24/5.12aish) in almost no time at all. Now on my way to finishing my 3-year-old bet with Dave by working 25s. Nate became obsessed with kiting just before he came to New Zealand. He brought two kites with him to NZ and within six weeks he added four more to his collection, along with a mountain board, a kite surf board, and a wet suite. I’ve gone out with him occasionally. Sometimes I enjoyed flying the kites and other times I just found myself being dragging through grass, sand, and/or water. I wouldn’t say I’m hooked yet.

We also began to have small dinner parties with friends. Sometimes we went to Dave’s to do a fingerboard workout with Michelle while we took turns cooking dinner on our breaks, and sometimes we invited friends over Danilo’s for dinner. 

Finger board/dinner session with Michelle

After long consideration and turning down some summer job/interview offers, I decided rock climbing guide work was probably my best option for short season work that wouldn’t interfere too much with my adventure plans for New Zealand. I signed up to take a rock climbing guide assessment that would certify me to guide in NZ (apparently with the new laws here, my outdoor education degree is basically useless for being even a basic single pitch guide). So some of my time at the crags in the last month was spent refreshing myself on rescues I haven’t done in years. Like climbing up on the rope to rescue a climber on top rope (a rescue I will probably never have to do) and abseiling down to an unconscious victim. At least it's all good practice for my own climbing.

Of course, before he could even walk, Nate was back to climbing. It was rather an entertaining site (and probably confusing to others) to see him crutch into a crag with a ‘boot’ on his foot and then see him leading a 25 in rock shoes. The ‘boot’ would be sitting aside his pack and crutches at the base of the crag. This discovery allowed us to sneak out of Dunedin on a climbing trip to Wanaka with a large group of friends, a mere 4-5 weeks after he broke his foot.

Well, now that your caught up on the mundane parts of my life in the last two months, I’ll take you on a couple of trips I did sneak in during that time.

Day 2 of Kite surfing for Nate.