WANDERINGS IN WESTLAND

Hokitika Guardian, 25 January 1930, Page 2

WANDERINGS IN WESTLAND

'ASCENT OF MOUNT SEFTON AND ACCIDENT THEREON. [From Fitzgerald’s “Climbs in the New Zealand Alps”] On the Copland side of Mount Sefton is a vast precipice, which descends perpendicularly to a glacier black with the debris fallen on its surface from that ever-crumbling mass. This precipice must be fully 5,000 ft. sheer drop, and is similar in some ways to the precipice on the south side of Mount Sealy, but considerably steeper. In places it seems to overhang, and its whole face is in a perpetual state of decay, the rocks breaking away in small pieces, usually about the size of an ordinary brick.

The weather now appeared promising, -but with out . previous experience we did not venture to count upon it, so halted for a moment only to oat our box of sardines and a few biscuits, and, although this was our first rest since leaving the bivouac, we at once made preparations for the final climb. We knew it' would be 'difficult, 'and bit that moment feltthat it might even prove impossible, so perpendiuclar were the . cliffs that rose up towards -the goal we .had in view. We agreed to leave behind us everything; that we .could possibly spare, and accordingly, at about a quarter to.'7,> set off in the lightest marching ■ -order, determined that—even if eventually defeated—we would at least have,a hard fight for success. Zurbriggen 'insisted upon my carrying .in, my pouch a. bottle claret he had brought from the Hermitage, for, as he assured me, “When I have the peak in my pocket we shall wish to drink its health, and I will also smoke "half a cigar in honour of the occasion.” These were about the first words we had spoken since leaving the bivotiac, for our moonlight journey through the glaciers had not been conducive to genial conversation. He also pointed out to me that if we did not have an empty bottle into which we could put our,, cards when ( we reached the summit it would be really no ascent at all nor would i't count in the annals of. the Alpine Club as ’’recorded.” T- .

Zurbriggen started first,_ arid traversed a bit of rock arete leading to the base -of the great ' cliff which we intended to scale. This arete was as rotten as it cotrlfl ’ well - bep-and the stones literally crumbled away beneath our, feet at. each step. We crawled’ along its summit, arid found it so thin as to form a veritable knife-edge!”‘actually leaning over on the Coplhml - side: T could feel- the Whole maiss tremble <fis Zurbriggen stepped -along itV It was an intense relief to us both when we exchanged what seemed uncommonly like an experiment ; ;.:in^tigh^rope' : for, an apparently more ysolid footing—solid byf-coniparison only, for. many, people, /1 iiha.ve no doubt, might have raised 'imerst;.,?reasonable 'objections to even this pfi:rt, of -the nioimtain.. ; from the point./'bfp’view of its .stability.--Now, instead of small .r. crumbling stones, we were confronted by enotxnptis boulders, which appeared to be fcoflidly in the mountainside, but. were in reality so delicately poised as to threaten to give way when touched. W r e were soon climbing cautiously up an almost vertical face of loose rock, clinging to it like flies, and trying each stone carefully with our hands before trusting our weight upon it. Zurbriggen especially had t-o. be rpost wary, for unavoidably my. position was vertically below him at every step, and the smallest .stone falling from under his feet miglit have seriously injured me. How he*;managed this perilous task will alvjfiys be a wonder- to me, and ja Ifiner display *of '•mountain •draft and rofik-climbing Than he- exhibited on thjs ...occasion is scarcely > conceivable. ■ *' -

Aftfer” about an hour of this sort of work we at last came to a. place where the face of the; mountain on the Hermitage side proved to be slightly less steep; crossing over tothis we were able to make somewhat more rapid 'progress. (Directly i n front of us now rose what we had always supposed, when looking at it from the Hermitage, to be the worst bit; from our present position ■it seemed, if possible even more appalling. The rock was indeed better iW some respects, and rather less crumbly than that which we had just traversed": ' but, on the other hand, there were many huge blocks of stone which would give way if the slightest weight came upon them.' W.e kept, whenever it was possible, to the rocks that seemed m'ost coated with ice, in the hope that they .would he bound together by the frost, and thus afford a more secure fopthold, though by so •doing the difficulties of climbing were doubled..->W,e advanced in this wav a few steps, but only to find ourselves again forced to return to the crest of the arete, and thence proceed between two precipices descending to the Copland and to the Mueller Valleys—some 6,000 feet sheer drop on either hand.

We had now to climb about 300 ft of almost perpendicular cliff, apparently in tbe very worst condition possible. Tlie rocks were peculiarly insecure, and we were obliged to move by turns, where possible, throwing down such rocks as seemed most dangerous; a,t times even thjs resource became impossible, so great was the violence with which these falling masses would shake the whole ridge

on which we stood. I carried both the ice-axes, so as to leave Zurbriggen both hands free t-o test each rock as he slowly worked his way upwards, while I did my very utmost to avoid being Tin a position vertically under him.

Suddenly, as I was coming up a eteepish bit, while Zurbriggen waited for me a little way above, a large boulder that I touched with my right hand gave way with a crash and fell, striking my chest. 1 had been just on the point of passing up the two ice-axes to Zurbriggen, that he mightplace them in a clott of rock a little higher up, and thus leave me -both hands free for my climb. He was in the act of stooping, and stretching out his arm to take them up from my uplifted left hand, the slack rope between us lying coiled at his feet. The falling boulder hurled mo down head foremost, arid I fell about 8 ft., turning a complete somersault in the air. Suddenly I felt the rope jerk, and I struck against the side of the mountain with great force. I feaied I should be stunned and drop the two ice-axes, and I knew that on these our lives depended. Without them we should never have succeeded in getting down the glacier through all the. intricate ice-fall. After the rope had jerked me up I felt it again slip and give way, and I came down slowly for a couple of yajrds. I took this to mean that Zurbriggen was being wrenched from his foothold, and I was just contemplating how I should feel dashing •down the 6,000 ft. below, and wondering vaguely how many times I should strike the rocks on the way. I saw the very block that I had dislodged going down in huge bounds; it struck the side three or four times and then, taking an enormous plunge of about 2,000 ft., imbedded itself on the Tucket Glacier. I felt the rope stop and pull me up short. 1 called out to Zurbriggen and asked him if lie was solidly placed. I was non swinging in the air like a pendulum, with my back to- the mountain, scarcely touching the rock-face. It would have required a great effort to turn round and grasp the rock, and I was afraid that the strain which would thus necessarily be placed on the rope would dislodge Zurbriggen. His first fear was that I had been /half, killed, for he saw the rock fall almost on the- top of me: but, as a matter of fact, after striking my chest it had. glanced off to the right arid passed under my right arm;, it had started from a point so very near that it had not time to gain sufficient impetus to strike me with great force. Zurbriggen’s first words were: “Are you very much hurt?” 1 answered, “N-o;” and .again I asked him whether -he was firmly placed. “No,” he replied, “I am very badly situated here. Turn round as soon as you can; I cannot hold you much longer.”, I gave a kick at the rocks with one foot-, and with great exertion managed to swing myself round. " Luckily there was a ledge near nre, and so, getting some handhold, I was soon able to ease the strain on the rope. A few moments later I struggled a little way up, and at last /handed to Zurbriggen the ice-axes, wliich I had managed l to hold throughout my - fall. In fact, my thoughts had been centred in them during the whole of the time. We were in t-oo .bad a place to stop to speak to one -another; but Zurbriggen, climbing up ;a! bit further, got himself into a firm position, and I scrambled up after him, so that in about ten minutes we bad passed this steep bit.

Here we sat for a moment to recover ourselves,- for our nerves had been badly shaken by what had so nearly proved a fatal accident. At the time everything happened so rapidly that we had not thought much of it, more especially as we knew that we needed to keep our nerve and take immediate action; but when it was all over we felt the effects, and both sat for about half an hour before we could even move again. I learned that Zurbriggen, the moment I fell, had snatched up the coil of rope which lay at his feet, and had luckily succeeded in getting bold of the right end first, so that he was soon able to bring me nearly to rest; but the pull upon him was so great, and he was so badly placed, that be had to let the rope slip through his fingers to ease the strain while be braced himself in a bettor position, from which he was finally able to stop me. He told me that, had I been unable to turn and grasp the rocks, he must inevitably have been dragged from his foothold, as the ledge upon which he stood was literally crumbling away beneath his feet. We discovered that two strands of. the rope had beep cut through by the falling rock, so that I had been suspended in maid-air by one single strand. The rope, however, was an excellent one, made by Buckingham, and held through this severe test. During this episode 1 lost my hat. At the moment of the accident my mind was perhaps equally divided between the effort of holding fast the ice-axes and the melancholy vision of this the last and only hat 1 possessed sailing gently down like a parachute towairds the /Copland Valley, never even once touching the face of the cliff. I was obliged now to have recourse to handkerchiefs as headgear', after the fashion of the bandanna ; later on however, I succeeded in manufacturing a most excellent cap by stretching an old sock.

I' was considerably hurt by the stone, for it had made a cut in my side, which bled a great deal and did not heal for a couple of weeks. We determined, nevertheless, to finish the ascent. There was yet another very had place a few steps higher up, but this we succeeded in scaling without serious incident. When we reached tbe

top of it we saw that it would be possible to cross the face on the Cop- , land side, and, getting on to a snow- , slope that leads clown towards the Douglas Glacier, to climb up some rocks there that seemed easier, and , thus to gain the summit. We found the snow-slope, which we had to cross in a diagonal line, in a very bad condition, and much wrecked by falling stones; while traversing it we ,constantly feared lest we should start an avalanche, and were obliged to advance very cautiously, plunging our-ice-axes in as deeply as possible at every step. When we reached the point where we intended to take to the rocks again it proved no easy task to get on to them, as they were quite smooth and rose .perpendicularly for some distance. The only practicable method seemed to bo that I should mount upon Zurbriggen’s shoulders, and from there endeavour to gain a ledge, which I thought l might fix myself firmly with the rope, so that Zurbriggen sliQuld be able to scramble up after me. He suggested that he should get on my shoulders, but, ,strangely enough, this scheme did not appeal to me as much as the other. Zurbriggen weighs considerably over twelve stone! So I climbed up ou his shoulders, and, after a great deal of stretching and of shovFng from behind—for there was really no intermediate hand-hold — I wriggl ed up far enough to get my fingers on to the edge. Then, after a few more contortions, I succeeded in reaching the ledge itself, some 15 ft. above the snow-slope where Zurbriggen was standing. Here 1 planted myself 1 firmly, and, winding the rope round a projecting point of rock I managed to help up Zurbiiggen, after a struggle quite insignificant in comparison to the one we had P>st K ,>ne through. It is wonderful how light he seems when climbing. The slightest assistance proves quite sufficient for him in the most impossible places. In another twenty minutes wo reached the. arete again, and the last few yards liefore gaining the peak itself proved comparatively fiat, so that we could walk along, without difficulty. We were now able to lookdown again towards the Tasman Valley, and 1 wondered if our friends at the Hermitage would sec us as we planted our ice-axes ou the summit, tying to them a hit of red cloth which we had brought for the purpose that they might know we had won the day. I learned afterwards that we were seen almost immediately, and that Adamson rode off at once to the nearest, telegraph-office at Burke’s Pass, some ninety miles away over a rough country and across many fords, so that the news reached Christchurch, next morning at 11 o’clock. It was now 10.25. Zurbriggen was wild with delight, stamping triumphantly on the summit, and pouring out volleys of abuse at it for its long, stubborn resistance. I suggested that it might be as well to wait till we had made the descent before thus rousing its anger. The wind was very cold and had now risen to a gale, though the day remained otherwise fine. Descending for shelter to the side towards the north-,west we sat down facing Mount Siokes, and prepared to drink our bottle of vine, which, wonderful to relate, bad not been broken in my fall. Zurbriggen now produced bis cigar, which be carefully cut in two, reserving, as lie said, the other end to smoke, when we should have successfully traversed the range to the West Coast. For the great question which had so long occupied our minds as to the possibility of finding some practicable route artross the great mountainrange, thus rendering easy the journey from the arid plains of Canterbury to the fertile fields of Westland, seemed now at last on the point of solution. As.we gazed down towards the head Copland and Douglas Valleys, we at- once saw that there was a point where it would be possible to traverse the range without even touching snow on the west slope, while on the east, or Hooker, side we knew there were no glaciers of any importance. Wo promptly determined to seize the earliest opportunity to cross by this pass, and, descending the Copland and Karangarua Rivers, to push on until we reached some habitation on the West Coast. •Thus we hoped thoroughly to explore the whole region, so that there should be no further doubt as to the possibility of building a track by the route we now perceived. AVe would then find some high alpine pass back between Haast and Haidinger which would enable us to return to the Hodistetter bivouac

Thus we planned for the future as we gazed from this peak of ice, where no living being had ever preceded us. at the marvellous panorama- unfolded before our eyes. It was now m-arl.v 1.1., and the sky was blue and cloudless. The South Pacific Ocean lay calm and sparkling in the sunlight, with its long, white, intermittent streak of surf beating upon the smooth bench of the West Coast. Around and behind us the Alps rose range behind range, their vast glaciers and fields of everlasting snow shining bright in the clear morning air. For a short space of time we enjoyed to the utmost the sense of rest after all we had gone through.

Soon, however, our joy of conquest was overshadowed by the thought of the descent before us, anil after a brief delay we sat about preparing to make our way down. But before leaving we were careful to erect a great cairn or stone man near the nun it, in such a position that it could be seen distinctly from the Hermitage, and would thus furnish a permanent proof of our ascent. We built it on the very edge of the. arete next the snow, so that it would stand out on the sky-line from the

Hermitage,. Then scribbling our names on a sheet of paper, with the date (which, bv the way, I put wrong, writing 15th instead of 14th February), we put it in the now empty wine-bottle, and, corking the latter securely, we placed it among some rocks close to our stone man for the next traveller to- find who should ascend this inhospitable peak. Towards the west lay a great glacier that came nearly up to the peak on which we stood, steep indeed near the top, but below forming itself into a large plateau, and finally flowing over the edge of a vertical wall some I,COO ft. in height in great) avalanches which form themselves anew into a glacier and flow onwaid j towards the sea. If . some wav veie found to reach- this plateau, 1 have no doubt that it would furnish a safe route up Sefton, hut tlv valleys on that side are for the most part unexplored and uninhabited; provisions for many weeks would therefore have to be carried up over passes from the. Hermitage before any attempt could 1-0 made to scale Mount Sefton from the west. I chipped off a bit, of stone Iro-m the toomost rock of the mountain, so that Zurbriggen’s words “V e will have th epeak in our pockets.” came true after nil. We then roped ourselves for the descent, having remained on the summit for an hour and a. quarter.