A climber in New Zealand

by Malcolm Ross

“We decided to keep along the upper part of the slope until we cleared a precipice of rock below, when we would be able to glissade to the bottom and gain the Linda. On reaching the place from whence we intended to glissade, we found the ice destitute of snow, and also hard and rough; but nevertheless, in order to save time, we preferred to glissade it to cutting steps down. Uncoupling ourselves from the rope, Dixon went first, turning a somersault before reaching the bottom and skinning his nose, but fortunately shooting the small bergschrund at the bottom in safety. Graham went next, while I followed, and succeeded in giving the same acrobatic performance as the first man, to the amusement of the others, and also to the detriment of my unfortunate knuckles. Fyfe came last, and, half-way down, struck a stone that had been frozen to the ice, slightly straining the tendons of his heel. An hour more and we were at the bergschrund below Green’s Rocks, where we were compelled to cut steps, there being only a slight coating of snow on the top of the ice. At 7 p.m. we stood on the other side of Green’s Rocks, testing the hard clear ice of the bottom couloir of the route chosen by Kaufmann. A consultation was held, and the advisability of advancing discussed. So far as we knew, it would take about seven hours at least to cut to the top from where we stood. This meant 2 a.m., and as the thermometer read 26, too cold for standing out all night, we decided to return to camp, and make another attempt on the following day, when we could take advantage of the steps already cut. Just after crossing the bergschrund below Green’s Rocks, before mentioned, and while we were plodding along the face of the upper slope of the Linda, we were aroused from our reverie at being defeated and speculations on the chances of success on the morrow by the alarm of danger from some cause, while at the same time Fyfe, who was in the lead, began to traverse the slope at a record pace, the rest of us giving him a hard run for first place. On looking up at the source of the alarm, we beheld a huge block of ice tearing down in our direction accompanied by a small one. These had broken away from the ice-cliffs above Green’s Rocks. Fortunately for us, the snow on the Linda was not sufficiently hard to bear the weight of this monster disturber of the public peace, and so we were allowed a little more time to escape from its clutches.

“The large block, weighing about six tons (as we judged from the dimensions of it taken on passing it partly embedded in the snow below) passed close on one side, while the small piece, which I had not noticed, seemed to whiz past my eyes on the opposite side, within a few feet. A fragment from one of the blocks struck me on the temple, raised a new phrenological bump, and caused a slightly dizzy sensation for a minute.

“Getting on to the tracks we had made coming up in the morning, we started off down the Linda at the ‘double-quick,’ and soon reached the place where we had deposited our ski on the way up. Graham and Dixon decided to put theirs on, but Fyfe and I preferred to carry ours, as we agreed that the snow was too hard and the slope too steep for us to be able to use them to any advantage. Now, the gentle art of ‘skilobning’ is not altogether without its amusing features, and a man with ski on a hard and steep snow slope is sometimes pretty much as helpless as a fish out of water. However, the two pairs of ski having, on this occasion, been properly adjusted to the respective feet of Dixon and Graham, we once more started off, quite unconscious of impending disaster. Suddenly there was a tug on the rope from behind, and on looking round, much to my amusement, I beheld some twelve feet of timber being aimlessly brandished about in the air with Dixon’s legs as the motive power! Then Graham, who was on the rope in front of me, would fall prostrate, embrace the merciless, hard-frozen snow with a suddenness that was disconcerting, and experience the greatest difficulty in adjusting his lengthy feet for further advancement. In such a predicament, until the ski are brought parallel, it seems almost an impossibility to prevent their crossing, one over the other, either in front or behind, this making them to appear the most awkward things a man could possibly put on his feet; yet in soft snow they are indispensable, and enable one to slide along almost without effort over the soft snow where otherwise he would have to plough waist-deep and it would be an impossibility to proceed. After a few tumbles and the use of quite a number of forcible adjectives, the ski were dispensed with for the time being, and, following our marks up by the light of an Austrian climbing-lantern, we reached camp about 10.30 p.m., having been about twenty and a half hours on the go, pretty well all the time. After turning in, and while we were discussing what day of the week it might be, I discovered it to be my birthday, and with seeming mockery from my half-asleep companions, while I lay shivering with cold, I was wished ‘many happy returns of the day’; and I now wish the same to any poor mortal who may spend his birthday on this same plateau or at the same altitude of about 8000 feet above sea-level in the New Zealand Alps, with no better prospect before him than being put on half-allowance for breakfast the following morning.

“Next morning on getting up we found the snow falling gently. We had a talk over matters as to whether or not we ought to wait and give Cook another trial, although our provisions were now all but done. Finally it was decided that three should go down to the Bivouac for some meat and biscuits that had been left there, while I should stay in camp and spread out the blankets to dry, should the weather clear. I had spent rather a miserable night in the cold damp blankets, having been an ‘outside man,’ and was rather pleased to see, shortly after the departure of the others, the snow gradually becoming heavier and heavier, for this guaranteed my being able to have a sleep now that I had monopolized all the blankets, for I should not be able to spread them out to dry. The three who went to the Bivouac were to boil a quantity of rice, make some porridge, and breakfast there, bringing back all the spare food they could muster. I, who stayed behind, was left a sumptuous breakfast in the form of one sardine!

“About one o’clock, having got warm and having enjoyed a good sleep, I was awakened by a yell at the door of the tent and a call from Fyfe—‘Squirm out of that, old man!’—and so my peaceful slumbers were brought to rather an abrupt termination. Upon entering the tent he appeared clothed in a mantle of white, having glissaded down the slope from the summit of the Dome. About twenty minutes later the other two put in an appearance with a kettle of rice, but had not brought on any other provisions, as they decided we should have to pack up and go back until the weather took up again. I now ate my breakfast and dinner together—one sardine for the first course, with the rice and the scrapings from a marmalade jam tin as dessert. It was rather an awkward business getting the rice out of the small kettle, but we soon had spoons of all designs at work, fashioned out of empty tins, etc. A council of war was held, and it was unanimously decided to stick to our guns, and not abandon the siege, though the combined efforts of all the demons of wind, hail, rain, and snow seemed anxious to drive us from out their stronghold. The elements had repulsed us again and again, but still, like true Britons, we lingered on, expecting yet to accomplish the task we had set ourselves. The last of our bread was gone, so we agreed to return to the hut to replenish our larder, leaving behind us the tent and all that we did not actually require.

Camp on Plateau.

Crossing the Murchison.

“Fyfe was dispatched without a swag, so that he could hurry on and get to the Hermitage that night—a long journey—while we stayed behind to carry on the blankets and wet clothing to be dried at the hut. About three o’clock we got a start, and, at the Bivouac on the way down, had some porridge, which the others had made in the morning. On arriving at the head of the couloir down which the swags had been thrown ten days previously, Graham and I were to search it, while Dixon searched one to the south of it, having an idea that it was possible they might by some means or other have bounded out of the main couloir. About two-thirds down our couloir I came to a sudden declivity in the snow and had to take to the rocks to avoid it, coming into the couloir again below it. On looking backward I could just see part of a swag showing through the snow. Digging it out with my axe, I discovered it to be the lighter of the two. I thought I had now a good chance of finding the other, as it must be farther down, so, taking up the one I had found, I gave it a start, concluding that the other—the heavier one—not having been stopped by the same obstruction, would probably be close to where this one would now land. On overtaking it on the snow-fan below the mouth of the couloir, and looking forward about sixty yards, I saw what appeared to be a slab of rock lying in the snow, but which, I was delighted to find, proved to be the other swag resting on the top of some avalanche snow. Giving them both a start on the slope, I set them going again, quickly overtook them, and, keeping them before my feet, soon glissaded to the bottom, where I was joined by my mates.