Dreams of Aspiring

Mount Aspiring. The Matterhorn of New Zealand. Gregor Kolbe and I had dreamed months before of climbing this most aesthetic of peaks on one of her most neglected routes - the sunny alpine rock of the North Buttress. So thin was the mountain literature on the route that it felt like embarking on a first ascent... "a direct and exacting rock climb on the sunny face of the mountain, with amazing views of the ocean as you’re climbing", so the guide book said. Chris Sillars came along for the ride to accompany us for the approach and solo the North-West ridge. Together we set off from Christchurch, bound for Wanaka, and beyond, the Matukituki Valley...

North side of Mount Aspiring/Tititea, 3033m - her foreboding view from Shipowner Ridge.

Chris in the Matukituki Valley

A very welcome change from the Aoraki region, the approach to Aspiring is extremely pleasant. Wild moraines gladly exchanged for soft trail through a majestic river valley. The renowned Matukituki often called 'the most beautiful valley in the world' led us easily to the base of the Waterfall gut. Now things became interesting. Here we met a group of eight Otago University students also Aspiring bound. They were faffing mightily, so we upped the pace for an overtake to tackle the technical section up rock slabs to Bevan Col.

Cooling off under 'the Waterfall'

An intricate route lay above negotiating tricky slabs, made difficult by dwindling shoe tread and heavy approach packs. Above the second layer of slabs, a great introduction to the remarkable schisty Aspiring rock, the Matukituki really opened up below us. 

 Crossing the south arete of Mt Bevan, high above the Matukituki

Rock turned to snow as we entered the curving saddle of Bevan Col, the gateway to Aspiring. Disappointingly, the Bonar plateau was bathing in cloud, but almost on cue, a gap in the cloud blew over, revealing a scintillating first glimpse of our mountain...

First glimpse of Aspiring

We witnessed interesting dynamics at the Colin Todd Hut. The hut was full to the brim, comprising of guided parties, climbers who had flown in, and parties who had walked in. The dynamic was mostly one of slight embarrassment and inadequacy by those who had flown in, but also one of entitlement to the hut and facilities by those who had paid large amounts of money to be guided to the summit. My ethos is always to walk in the first time to have a feel for the route, and avoid the disconnection to the land that flying in to a high base hut brings. However I do appreciate times where flying in has its benefits; by making the most of a weather window, and increasing the walking to climbing ratio. A day spent working in the city would easily pay for the helicopter flight on the day saved by not walking, while remaining better rested.

A tough ten hour day to the hut, we rested and fuelled up while socialising with the fascinating hut inhabitants, pysched for our shot for the summit the next day. We felt good. The weather forecast was pristine. What could go wrong?

Alpine start form Colin Todd, 4:45am

Hard work up the Iso Glacier

Clouds of dawn and darkness lifted as we crested the Iso Glacier. I stopped and nervously took a close look at our beloved North Buttress. The French guide was right. The entire rock buttress from the Therma glacier to the summit was smothered in snow. These was very unusual conditions for February, the typical season for alpine rock climbs. Where snow was not present, dark wet streaks could be seen. Climbing steep snow on a northern face in the height of summer would have been foolish in the extreme. At this point in our hesitation, Chris skipped ahead of us, eager for his solo attack on the North West Ridge. The decision was simple; we accepted a very adequate Plan B and joined him as a team of three, up the North West Ridge.

Hesitation at attempting the very snowy North Buttress Route; the dry North-West ridge on the right skyline

Aspiring in Feb 2010. Note the relatively dry North Buttress, centre left plunging into the Therma. Photo: Jaz Morris

A morning above Bonar Glacier

After mentally preparing for quite a challenging and technical route on the North Buttress, likely to involve around 500m vertical of simul-climbing - moving together while placing protection in the rock... the North West ridge felt like it would be a breeze. However, while less steep and technical, it was no walk in the park, and required full concentration of effort.

Big exposure along the ridge

The lower flat section of the ridge involved some very airy traverses around rock gendarmes and some fun cheval-like straddling of the ridge as it sharply narrowed - the drop off to the Therma glacier on our left was huge. This is potentially what makes the ridge a challenge - to use a rope over such a long distance would be very time consuming, potentially such that the summit shot would be compromised unless the team was very efficient. We soon approached 'the Buttress', a huge step in the ridge that stared down on us from the hut. Countless route options up the steepening rock were possible, we had to choose just one and make it count...

Greg snacking; the North Buttress visible on right caked in snow

We found ourselves on a rising traverse on the Therma glacier side of the buttress. A steep 20 metres section on moderately good rock passed nervously, but landed us on top of the buttress and the summit ice cap now back in view. The crux behind us, we dropped almost all our technical climbing gear and pranced up the 35 degree firm snow slope to the summit. Sensational views opened up across to the glaciers and lakes below out to the West Coast. Endless pristine wilderness as far as the eye could see...

Upper snow slopes on the NW Ridge

Haast Range, Lake Waiatoto, Upper Volta Glacier

Not a breath of wind. Thick icicles protruded from the perfect ice cap as we chopped our way to the pinnacle of the mountain. We looked back down to from where we had come. The broken Bonar, the harrowing Coxcombe Ridge, the floury blue Waitatoto Lake, the sweeping Upper Volta, the sunny Matukituki, the schist of the North West Ridge... All laid out in glorious sequence of unending three-sixty panorama. It was almost too much.

Our first 3000m peak

Greg celebrates on the summit with a handstand; the gnarly Coxomb ridge behind to the right

Pointing towards the next objective...

Bulbous clouds on the horizon limited our range, unfortunately blocking the Darran and Aoraki mountains from view. Nigh on midday, I felt it time for a nap, and lay back on my pack for a snooze. I woke half an hour later, somewhat delirious and confused, before realising we were still on the top of Mount Aspiring...

Chris on the upper NW ridge

The descent was quick - firm snow from the morning had now received an extra few hours sun and provided a perfect soft glissade down 500m to the top of the buttress. For once we appreciated the snow conditions that otherwise would have rendered the slope a plain scree clobber. We followed the Buttress to its prow, before following heavily slung boulders down the well used rap route. At least five pieces of tat were found at each of the three rap stations. The decision to descend the Kangaroo snow patch, an apparent shortcut, was quickly called off due to the very soft snow sluffing down the slope into gaping slots. The full ridge was by far the safest descent route.

Rapping down the buttress

Rappelling the buttress descent route

It was a majestic evening at Colin Todd hut. The evening hours were consumed spectating the final few climbing parties descending the ridge late into the evening, just as last rays put on a spectacular Aspiring show. Our relaxed itinerary now allowed for two easy days walking out from Colin Todd, across the crevassed Bonar, down through the Quarter Deck pass to French Ridge hut, and back out the Matukituki to Wanaka.

Soaking up last rays from Colin Todd; Greg is ecstatic

The Quarterdeck Pass

The devastating plunge from French Ridge into the Gloomy Gorge

Celebratory handstand at French Ridge with Mt Barff behind

Although at first disappointed in failing to climb our much-dreamed route up the North Buttress, we found it a good lesson to always be prepared to wait for a route to be climbed in its optimal condition. The unseasonable snow covering much of the rock was definitely not optimal, and would have been foolish to have 'just gone for it'. There are only two types in mountaineering: bold climbers and old climbers. We enjoyed scoping out the two major access routes to the Aspiring plateau via Bevan and Quarterdeck and look forward to many more ambitious routes on the Aspiring peaks in years to come...

Our route up to Bevan Col (left), route to the summit, and return via Quarterdeck Pass. North Buttress route in red.

South Face of Aspiring

Mount Oates Traverse

Dawn on Temple Col. The eastern peaks of Arthur's Pass sketched out the horizon in black against the morning glow rising over Christchurch. It was midweek and most were still enjoying their last hours of sleep before heading to work; we should have been too. But today Elisha and I were up at 4 and on the crest of the Main Divide by 6, primed and ready for a full day of exciting ridge-line negotiations and some stupendous scrambling. Work could wait for another day...

Sunlight slowly chased us along the ridge from Temple Col to Goat Pass

The route from Temple to Goat was more precarious and involved than we'd expected. We'd timed it perfectly and after a short rest on the col, daylight began to light up our path to Goat Pass. The DOC guide alluded to 7 hours for this section; we thought that a bit generous for such a short distance. However, after dropping 100 metres, traversing a scree bench then descending 300 metres, sidling a buttress, ascending a loose rocky gut, and traversing numerous hairy ridge-tops before the main descent... we agree it is fair to allow plenty of time for the trip.

Easier terrain down the ridge past tasty little tarns led to thick scrub around the Goat Pass plateau. We crossed at right angles the route recently followed by the past weekend's stampede of Coast-to-Coasters, hopping over the well trodden board walk and back on the off-track climb straight up to Lake Mavis...

Lake Mavis

Originally we'd planned for the more straight forward tramping route over point 1978m following the Main Divide, and following the chossy ridge northwards towards Taruahuna Pass. But now taking in the glistening Mavis and gazing up to Mount Oates, I yearned for the more adventurous option. The West Ridge was described as a classic AP scramble, even deserving a star in the guide book. To bag the summit was very tempting and the day was still young; we took it by the reigns, hopped the Mavis outflow and set off for the col marking the base of the West Ridge...

Fantastic scrambling on great rock - the West Ridge of Mt Oates

 The rock was fantastic and within moments we were standing on top of Oates. A hearty morning's work, and the day was still cool. Unlimited views stretched over towards the Alps and back to Christchurch, lunch break in the city too. Sandwiches slid down easily as we contemplated the next stage, a tricky traverse across to the high peak.

A bluebird day in Arthur's Pass - Mt Oates low peak. Mingha on the right, Edwards on the left.

 My prolific friends Nina and James had down-climbed an optional 20 metre rappel; we found the terrain steep but the holds and cracks plentiful. Another mental game that we took carefully and patiently and soon stepped upon our second summit in quick succession.

Climbing to the high peak of Oates

Descending late season snow to escape the ridge and drop onto faster terrain

Eventually the constant exposure became wearisome, and we hungered to move faster on some more moderate terrain. At the first chance, we spotted a snow chute from a col on the ridge, a quick escape, and soon we were powering across level rocky benches littered with tarns, a bountiful playground for hunters and their prey...

Chamois on the run...

The long Williams ridge south of Mt Oates stretched on into the early afternoon. After a refreshing wash in one of the tarns, a reprieve from the onset of dehydration in the hot sun, we made efficient progress to Williamson Saddle over fast terrain. Dropping into the Edwards required a keen eye to spot a safe descent - at first we were bluffed out before bushy sidle had us back on a safe route down into the stream.

Williamson Saddle, Edwards Valley

Edwards Hut sheltered us from the sun momentarily, but the remaining two hours down the river sucked us dry. State Highway 73 was a very welcome sight. The first car was successfully flagged down, delivering Elisha and I back to Temple Basin exactly 12 hours after we had started that morning. A perfect day in Arthurs Pass...

Cloudy Peak

Cloudy Peak has been on the list for a while. The Great Prow is rated as a classic alpine rock route deep in the Canterbury foothills, with amazing rock and a beautiful summit. All these things were true. The first sight of the peak from the lower valley gave us a striking shot of the route on profile - quite intimidating. The approach was a thorough bash; through farmland tracks, steep vegetation and long stretches of unstable rock sidling. Five hours found us a very pleasant patch of grass for an afternoon snooze in the sun below the wondrous Hourglass Wall.

The Great Prow route is highlighted in red. The access to the shelf is in shadow far right.

However, upon waking several hours later, the sun was teetering on the crest of the horizon ranges, about to plunge us into a cold evening and the shock discovery that the entire upper valley was completely dry. A rushing waterfall was deceptively far away, yet aimlessly dropped all its precious liquid straight into the bed of hollow rock, which rushed far below beneath our feet, we could hear it but not taste it... Two hours of thirsty, frustrated swagging back down the valley and we finally slumped beside the stream and a far less comfortable bivvy spot. All we wanted at this stage was water and we were thankful for it. 

An added complication, we had both forgotten a pot. Luckily Pete's aluminium mug served us well, boiling two cups each for a bag of dehy, while being very lightweight.

First glimpse of Cloudy Peak from low down in the access valley (Photo: Pete Harris)

We remained positive for the following day's mission, the Great Prow distinctive profile glinting in the moonlight. The weather was perfect. Not a breeze and a beautifully clear night. Ideal for sleeping out with no bivvy bag or tent as no dew settled, although it was very cold...

The uncertainty of the climb kept us on edge as we ascended the endless scree in the pre-dawn hours towards the base of the shelf. To access this shelf, we spotted a route through a series of ledges involving some unwelcome morning exposure to well and truly wake us up. It was a relief to reach easier scrambling on the shelf and climb up to the base of the Great Prow. Pete arrived first and flaked the rope out, geared up and psyched himself for the first pitch...

Scrambling onto the upper shelf (Photo: Pete Harris)

The first pitch was the crux. Pete lead through the bulge fearlessly twenty metres off the deck, a good piece of pro keeping him anchored. I found the move exciting although awkward still kitted out in a belay jacket, so cold was the belay in shade but the overhang worked up a quick sweat.

I wasn't feeling my best - still on edge from the exposed scrambling earlier in the morning and the restless night's sleep. A nasty situation was also developing with the previous evening's dehydrated Chicken Tikka Massala. Big wall tactics came into play earlier than I had anticipated. My stomach rumbled as I grabbed the excess gear from Pete at his belay and headed into my first lead of the day... I apprehensively placed a piece ten metres above, nerves soothed as the cam sunk into the crack, and soon I warmed into the rhythm and feel of the alpine rock.

Relaxed at the sheer belay bringing up Pete as the shadow winds in

Pitches flowed effortlessly as Pete and I swung leads while swinging about the crest of the prow in search of the finest rock. I bridged out above Pete's cave belay on hopelessly loose rock to find glory ahead. 

Following pitch six, nearing the summit ridge (Photo: Pete Harris)

In little over seven pitches we had surmounted the prow and found ourselves scrambling pleasant blocks all the way to the double summit... 

A long exposed descent lay ahead, leading to a 17 hour day from bivvy to car, but for now we basked in the afternoon sun on a glorious Canterbury summit, with all of the Southern Alps spreadeagled before us. A fantastic alpine climb ticked with a new partner and added to the memory bank... Living.

Pete on Cloudy Peak with the Southern Alps glowing behind

Summit time! (Photo: Pete Harris)

Mount Cook and Tasman from Cloudy Peak on telephoto zoom (Photo: Pete Harris)

Finding the water hole in the hollow rock field on the return trip, after having walked past it deliriously the day before...

A beautiful evening for the gravel bash down the Havelock