CHAPTER III
FIRST ATTEMPT TO CLIMB AORANGI
First impressions—Swagging—The Hochstetter Glacier—Defeat—The perils of river crossing
‘To climb steep hills requires slow pace at first.’
It was on March 24, 1886, that I left Christchurch, in company with my cousin, Mr. C. D. Fox, on my first visit to the great Tasman Glacier and Mount Cook, or Aorangi.[1]
[1] The Maori name of Mount Cook is ‘Aorangi,’ or, more properly, ‘Ao-Rangi.’ The commonly accepted meaning of the term is ‘Sky-piercer’ but as the Maori language admits of many varieties of translation, each version hovering about the region of true meaning, it is only natural that authorities should differ as to the correct construing of the word.
One good Maori scholar, whose reputation as such is almost pre-eminent, gives the poetical translation of ‘Light of Day’—a singularly beautiful one, for it is the first peak to catch the morning light and the last to show the glow of evening.
Another very well-known Maori scholar, the Rev. J. W. Stack, assures me that the most reasonable interpretation that can be put upon the word ‘Ao-Rangi’ is ‘Scud Peak’; and this is a singularly apt one, for the prevailing nor’-west winds always cause condensation and the gathering of cloud-banners about the higher parts of the mountain. ‘Heaven-piercer’ and ‘Cloud-piercer’ are also often used, but are to a certain extent fancy names.
I often look back now with feelings of amusement at the audacity with which we determined to make our first attempt to scale the great monarch of the Southern Alps, and wonder how we could have been so self-satisfied with our own powers and confident of our ability in undertaking such a gigantic task. I can only suppose that it was ignorance of what lay before us, and a clear case of ‘fools rush in where angels fear to tread’; for when my thoughts run back over the toils, hardships, and bitter lessons of experience undergone during the past six years, and when I think of the position of two completely inexperienced men (as far as true Alpine work is concerned) launching straight out into such an undertaking, my heart seems to quail at the idea. It is true that we both had heard and read of much Alpine work, and had been for some time in touch with climbing-men, also we were both practised in hill-walking and accustomed to such work as mustering sheep, pig-hunting, and shooting over what in England would be termed rough mountains, so that as cragsmen we could scarcely be classed as novices. As to any knowledge other than theoretical of the conditions of snow and ice, however, we might be termed tyros, though Fox had done a little scrambling on the Swiss glaciers. Nevertheless, we had sufficient ‘cheek’ to consider ourselves wise and strong enough to go straight into a really difficult piece of Alpine work, and, laughing at all discouragement, we set off for the mountains.
I have already described the customary route to the glaciers of Mount Cook, so will not weary my readers with a long narrative of the journey.