20th October-22 October
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| Views from Treble Cone |
In mid October Nate, who was just starting to put weight on
his foot, committed to work for an Otago Ph.D. student collecting soil samples
from trees for five days. They were to leave the day after they made the
agreement. I decided that I should take advantage of the opportunity to join on
a mountaineering trip I had been invited to. When I called to say I was keen
and they confirmed they had space, I had about 3 hours before they would pick
me up.
It was a mission that held doubts for its success. A storm
was supposed to be hitting the Southern Alps with a meter of fresh snow on the
divide. We hoped to climb Mount Barth just after the weather cleared. Danilo
had misgivings about our trip, concerned for us to even to hike into the terrain
trap of a valley at the base of Mount Barth. Frazer, the young man organizing
the trip, had hopes that we would be far enough East of the divide that we
wouldn’t have much snow in our area. We figured it couldn’t hurt to walk in and
have a look. At the very least we would have a good walk.
With all the talk about fresh snow in the mountains my mind
turned once again to skiing. Ah, why not have one more tour for the season? I
gave Jaz a call because he had been there before. “Yip, there’s some great
touring off Mount Barth…The whole time I was there I was wishing I had skis.”
That was enough for me; the skis and boots were packed. At the very worst, if
avalanche danger is too high, I’ll have had a good weight-training trip to get
fit for alpine climbing.
Soon I was packed in a small station wagon with 5 people, five
packs, and my skis (which stuck out from the back next to my head. We were off
toward the Ahuri Huri valley, just south of Aoraki National Park. After a long
drive, that included adding a few scrapes to the bottom of the car on the dirt
road, we arrived at a DOC hut a short ways before the road’s end. There we met
5 other people. Half of the group was planning to walk up Mount Heim, which sat
on Mount Barth’s shoulder. Chatter was brief that evening. Before 11:30 PM all
the college students in and around the hut were sound a sleep.
It was just about 5km to the end of the road, but we were
well passed the “4-wheel drive only” sign in a low-riding two-wheel drive car.
The ride was slow with folks unloading from the car at stream crossings,
directing the driver and clearing rocks out of the way. We made it to the roads
end with out oil and gas spewing out of the bottom of the car. Looking out from
the car park, my eyes strayed past the open dry grass valley to the mountains
that erupted straight up nearly a couple thousand meters. The tree line was
only a third of the way up the steep slopes. Dense trees then gave way suddenly
to golden tussock and then eventually a white blanket of snow.
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| Hiking toward Canyon Creek |
The ten of us loaded our packs on our backs (mine with skis
towering above my head) and started the walk along the barren valley floor. After
an hour or two we entered some dense trees that quickly brought us up and over
Canyon Creek. As we traveled high over the river, we could only catch glimpses
of the canyon below through the trees. My progress was slowed with ducking and
weaving as I attempted to not snag my skis on branches. Luckily the trees
didn’t last long and soon we were walking out in the open on scree-slopes, a cobbled
river, and tussock.
After a lunch with an optional swim break, we started up
tight switchbacks that brought us up and around a wall of waterfalls. At the
top we hopped across a field of boulders. We kept glimpsing up at the mountains
around us. Even after gaining more than 500 meters vertical since the track’s
start, the snow line remained far above us and the rock protruding from the
snow hinted to us that fortunately/unfortunately our meter deep dump was really
a centimeter dusting. Spring corn skiing
it is then.
Late afternoon we came upon our luxurious rock bivy. A comfy
nook for two with a nicely stacked rock wall on one side and on the other a
short rock wall guarding an overhang we hoped to fit eight under. While the
water boiled for the usual cup of tea most of us gathered dry grass to cover
the damp ground under the overhang and put a tarp up that came out from the
overhang. When camp was set I went into my normal backpacking routine of “bomb
proofing” my stuff. I carefully repacked my gear into my small bag and attached
my skis and boots to the outside. The rest I neatly packed away to avoid
anything getting wet.  |
| View of Mount Barth from the rock bivy |
After dinner we walked further down the valley to scope out
tomorrow’s route. Debris from old avalanches remained and even some patches of
ice amongst the gullies in the cliff. Kind of wish I had the opportunity to be
here in winter. Frazer and I discussed concerns (mine mostly being wet slides
at this point since powder was lacking) and plans to avoid them. I was still
skeptical of us summiting, thinking the snow would soften too quickly. Soon we
all returned to camp to enjoy some more tea. By the time we went to bed, much
of camp still looked like an explosion had gone off with food and gear
scattered. A sure sign of newbie trampers. I’m sure they’ll learn soon enough
with New Zealand being an unforgiving teacher.
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| At sunrise heading up Mount Barth. Can you see the foolish that brought their skis? |
All too soon 5 A.M. arrived. It was still dark out. Five of
us dressed and ate by headlamp and started hiking our way up, trying to guess
by the little our headlamps illuminated how to navigate around the cliffs. The
other five (who were planning to climb Mount Heim) were slowly waking as we
left camp. It wasn’t too long before we hit our first patch of snow. Hard
packed and frozen. The others put on their crampons while I finally put on my
ski boots and kicked steps. The skis remained on my back, the skins useless in
this snowpack (note to self: ski crampons are worth the investment). We were
finally on continuous snow when the sun poked above the mountains and hit our
backs, illuminating the snow with a soft pink glow that was broken by our
shadows. My shadow clearly stood out from the others, the profile of my skis a
reminder of my foolish decision.
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| Frazer on a ridge of Mount Barth. Feeling Small... |
We hiked nearly to the ridge to avoid the glacier and some
of the steeper slopes. I stashed my hiking boots atop the ridge in a sheltered
spot and then followed the others. The snow on our slope of concern was still
far more frozen than I had expected so we cut across, no longer fearing the
possibility of wet slides for the next couple of hours. In less time than I had
expected, we were heading up the left most couloir on mount Barth, avoiding the
shrundts at the bottom of the other routes. The couloir remained in the shade,
and to my dismay and the others’ delight we were front pointing up hard-packed
snow. I had hoped if it never saw sun, the snow might be like old powder, but
this wasn’t the case and the skis remained on my back.
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| Views from my turn around point on Mount Barth |
It wasn’t long before we topped out the ridge to find a wall
of rock blocking our way. Frazer went to scope an alternative route. I was less
concerned about the summit and more about making some good turns that were hard
earned. So I began to prep myself for the descent and snagged some pictures in
the process. Without rope and gear, the others were not comfortable to move any
further. So we got a group photo and they took a moment to watch my descent
before following behind. The scratching of my skis on snow at the top wasn’t
promising. When I dropped down I promptly wished I had tuned my edges after my
last trip. My skis and legs chattered down the chute. I had to rest halfway, my
legs almost numb from the vibrations caused by chunky frozen snow. Even when I
crossed out of shadow into sun, the snow still didn’t have time to soften and
in the next dip down to the glacier, my skis continued to scratch and chatter. At
the bottom I dared to put on my skins and tour back up to the ridge to retrieve
my boots. At least I didn’t carry my skins for nothing. It was still hard
going. I waited shortly before the summit of Mount Heim for the others to catch
up while I watched the other group make their way up rolling hills of snow. I
contemplated how long before the snow would be corn and how much longer it
would be before it was rotten and grabby.
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| The crew a top Mount Heim |
15-20 minutes later Frazer and the others caught up and we
all made our way to the summit of Mount Heim or to the lower group to hike the
final bit with the others. A top the flat summit we all took a moment to gather
up, enjoy the views and snap a photo to capture the moment. I was antsy to get
going, keen to convince myself that I didn’t carry the extra 8 kg of equipment
for nothing. So once the others were prepping themselves to head down I bee-lined
down the hill carving in perfect corn. The 1 km or two sped past in about 20
seconds as I enjoyed the thrill of spring skiing. The snow only began to grab
at the bottom of the run. At the end of the snowline I changed out of the ski
boots and waited about an hour for the others to come post-holing over the
rolls (showing my efforts to be almost worth it).
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| My last turns of the year. |
We arrived back at camp as a party of 10 after three in the
afternoon. After lunch, tea, and a rest, we packed up and hiked the 4-5 hours
back to the road’s end.
We arrived at the cars around 9, quickly packed and drove
out, hoping to find somewhere open for dinner. I believe a Z gas station with
its warm cheap pies was our savior that evening. We rolled into Dunedin about 1
in the morning.
