He had built a large fire close by the side of our bivouac; but I, who had not of late been used to such warm quarters, found it mighty unpleasant, and lay sweltering in my sleeping bag, warding off the attacks of mosquitoes, and vainly endeavouring to sleep.
The next day we went right up to the head of the valley—a good day’s march, as the blazed tracks made in the bush were in places completely obliterated by slips from the hillside or new vegetation that had grown since they were cut. Our bivouac this night, near Mount Sefton and the Marchant Glacier, at the head of the valley, was as cold as the previous night’s was warm, for the temperature was below freezing-point, and without an axe we could get no suitable wood to build a big fire.
Next morning, early, I said good-bye to Dick, and started up the valley alone. This was the first crossing of the pass from the West Coast, and there was little data as to the line of route. To add to the difficulty the last thousand feet had to be climbed in a fog; but luckily I had, before the fog descended, taken a compass-bearing of the general direction of the pass, and this stood me in good stead. The summit of the range was gained after slightly more than two and a half hours’ climbing. Here I waited for an hour till the clouds had risen, when I was able to enjoy the views on every hand. Then I commenced the descent. It was quite clear weather on the eastern side of the divide. There was a bit of rock work to begin with, which, seeing I was alone, I did very carefully. Then I crossed the top of a glacier and got some good glissading down snow slopes and shingle shoots, till, in an incredibly short space of time, I found myself eating a second luncheon on the old moraine of the Hooker Glacier. I was in splendid form, and my leg had stood the strain well so far. The whole descent occupied only an hour!
There can be no doubt that this pass, discovered by Fitzgerald, a member of the Alpine Club, is the best route for tourists proceeding from the Hermitage to the West Coast.
On the old lateral moraine of the Hooker Glacier I gathered some very fine edelweiss, which I took with me to the Hermitage. I arrived there early in the afternoon, but was in no plight to be seen, for my knees were sticking through great holes in my knickerbockers, my coat was torn, and I was bronzed and bearded, if not like the pard, at least like a man who hadn’t shaved for several weeks, which is perhaps worse, though I do not know for certain, never having seen the pard. I tried to slink into the Hermitage by the back way, but the rattle of my pannikin against the ice-axe drew the attention of one of the sun-bonnet brigade in my direction, and I had to run the gauntlet of their hearty congratulations, while at the same time I had to walk backwards into the house, because it was not only the knees of my nether garments that had suffered on this particular expedition!
In a very few minutes I was steeped in a luxurious hot bath, and an amused listener to the remarks on my personal appearance made by the Hermitage maid—“I’m glad ’e’s back, Mrs. Ross; but ain’t ’e a sight. Lord! mum, no tramp could look wuss!”
CHAPTER XVI
IN KIWI LAND
“A land of streams! Some, like a downward smoke,