Early Ruapehu Ascents
Memorable Ascent by Kerry-Nicholls in 1883

By John Magurk (Lino-cuts by the Author)

On the summit of Mt. Ruapehu.

The apex of the North Island of New Zealand is Mt. Ruapehu, 9,175 ft., the great massif of which rises up in magnificent splendour, above the forest and tussock plains of the Tongariro National Park.

Every year, during both summer and winter, an ever-increasing number of vigorous young men and women come from north and south, by train and car, to ski and climb on its slopes, and to breathe the clean, exhilarating air that one finds only amid the mountains.

How many of the young climbers, we wonder, having climbed up to the highest peak and looked down at the sometimes opaque, sometimes translucent waters of the crater lake, reflect on early ascents of the mountain, made under greatly different conditions from those enjoyed to-day?

Let us go back to a time when the Maoris were far from being the peaceful race that they are to-day; when they would allow no one to break a “tapu” by climbing the mountain—to a time when the only means of travel were by foot and on horseback, and when there were no comfortable huts and no Chateau Tongariro.

The first Europeans to show any great interest in the mountain, were probably Diffenbach, in 1842 and Hochstetter, in 1859. Both of them were anxious to attempt an ascent, but permission to do so was refused by the powerful chief, Te Heu Heu. In an account of his wanderings, Hochstetter wrote of Ruapehu:

“No one has ever ascended or explored it. Nevertheless, there can be no doubt as to its volcanic nature, but it seems perfectly extinct; there is no trace of solfatara to be discovered in the distance, either at its sides or at the top, and it is totally unknown whether the broad summit forms a plateau or whether it contains a crater.”

One of the earliest climbs on the mountain, of which there is any record, was the ascent of Te Heu Heu, the mountain's northern peak. On the 12th December, 1877, two brothers, J. and T. Allison, started up a northeastern spar. Nearing the summit, they were enveloped in a fog which became thicker as they climbed upward. After a seven hours' climb they reached the summit, where visibility was limited to about a hundred yards. The descent was made without mishap, in about four hours, to a camp at the bush level.

In connection with this ascent it is interesting to note that T. Allison, writing some twenty years later in the New Zealand Alpine Journal, stated that they believed at the time that they were the first to ascend Ruapehu at all. Later, however, he found a footnote in one of Hochstetter's works, which made mention of the fact that Sir George Grey had stated that he had been to the summit. He wrote to Sir George, who was then living in London, and received from him a very interesting letter, which stated in part:

“… and continued until I reached a spot where I had a view over a vast extent of country, without experiencing any great difficulties in the ascent. The natives had begged me not to ascend the mountain, and from superstitious fears were excessively urgent that I should not do so, stating that they came from Whanganui, and might possibly be killed out of revenge for breaking a tapu. I was unwilling, therefore, to show myself if I could help it, and did not attempt to walk along the summit of the mountain, and immediately descended from the point I had reached without examining any crater. I spent but a few moments on the summit, and did not discover the crater lake.”

Sir George could not recollect the date of his ascent. Allison mentioned that it would have been about 1855.

Probably the first men to see the crater lake, were Messrs. Maxwell and Beetham, who made an ascent in 1879.

Few of those who later made ascents wrote about them in as interesting a fashion as did J. H. Kerry-Nicholls, a world-traveller who made an epic 600 mile trip through the King Country in page 22

The Crater Lake, Mt. Ruapehu.

1883. After many adventures, Kerry-Nicholls and a companion, J. A. Turner, pitched their tent in the lee of a large boulder, at a height of over 6,000 feet on the slopes of the mountain. The night that followed, was one that they could never forget. At about midnight, a great gale of wind “like the howling of a thousand fiends,” came up from the south and swept over the mountain. Instantly their tent was carried away and, to make matters worse, they were blinded and choked by showers of scoria dust. Throughout the night the furious gale raged as they crouched in the shelter of the boulder. There they waited for six hours in intense cold for the dawn. After the morning sun had warmed their nearly frozen limbs, they continued the ascent. As they climbed higher, difficulties increased. At 8,600 feet, the force of the wind was so great, it was impossible to stand, and they were compelled to crawl up steep slopes of frozen snow on their hands and knees. Slowly they made their way up the last incline, cutting steps in the ice with tomahawks, until at last they reached the summit of the north peak. In all it had taken them twenty hours of actual climbing.

Kerry-Nicholls has painted for us a vivid word-picture of the scene that met their gaze:—“Looking towards the south, along the summit of the mountain, which stretched away for nearly a mile in length, peak rose above peak in colossal proportions from the dazzling expanse of snow. Each grand and towering mass of rock, tinted by the extinct volcanic fires of a reddish hue, standing out clearly defined against the light-blue sky, each pointed summit shining with ice beneath the bright light with grand and almost magical effect.”

On the occasion of this ascent the crater was filled with snow, and was cut here and there by great deep chasms.

(Photo, courtesy W. P. Sommerville.
Mr. E. C. Dickie, the chef at The Chateau, Tongariro National Park, and his unique Christmas cake. The cake, including its elaborate decoration (every part edible) took three weeks to make, and follows the design of a Maori palisaded enclosure containing a whare (house) and pataka (food store).

What is the motive of men in striving to reach the summits of mountains sometimes in the face of hostile opposition, from both man and nature? To some it is the desire to add to geographic and scientific knowledge; to the vast majority, however, the dominating urge is that of adventure, and the love of nature.

Eighty cigarettes a day! M. Aristide Briand, “the strong man of French Politics,” smoked 80 cigarettes a day—and lived to be old. Yet the enemies of the weed will insist that smoking, even in moderation, shortens life! But that depends on the tobacco. The famous Frenchman's favourite blend must have been of exceptional purity to admit of his indulging so freely. Because brands there are in plenty, which it would be simply suicidal to smoke to that extent owing to the quantity of nicotine they contain. Tobacco absolutely free from nicotine is unknown, but our N.Z. brands are not far off the mark. The toasting they are subjected to at the factory accounts not only for their comparative freedom from nicotine, but for their peculiarly delicious flavour and unequalled aroma. They do not, be it noted, affect the heart, and are the only toasted tobaccos. That they possess an irresistible attraction for smokers is proved by their extensive sale. There are only five toasted brands: Riverhead Gold, Desert Gold, Cut Plug No. 10, Cavendish, and Navy Cut No. 3. But ‘ware of imitations!^*