Other formats

    Adobe Portable Document Format file (facsimile images)   TEI XML file   ePub eBook file  

Connect

    mail icontwitter iconBlogspot iconrss icon

Heels 1967

Spencers or Bust. February 1967

Spencers or Bust. February 1967.

After making arrangements to leave on the Tuesday night boat, the leader disappeared into the Tararuas on a S.A.R. search that weekend. However, he turned up in time and the four of us managed to get to Christchurch, and then onto Lewis Pass where we met Ross who had come from Arthurs Pass.

So donning our 501b packs, we immediately dropped 500' from Lewis Pass into the maruia River and moved up the river during deer to the left and right until we reached Ada pass Hut (CUTC), (lower than Lewis Pass, at 7p.m. Scrog and brow. Stops and attempts at leaving tins of milk powder behind were carried out on the way. The next day consisted of a gentle stroll over the pass and down the Ada river encountering wild cattle and horses en route to Christopher Forks where there is a small three-bunk Forestry hut.

During all the twelve days of the trip not once did it rain but on the third day it snowed, consequently Thora, Terry and I went on an expedition collecting gooseberries, to the old abandoned farmhouse- not any more for outside was a collection of bulldozers, landrovers and G.M.C.s and they didn't even invite us in to their fire!

Saturday dawned gloriously fine so with ice-axes and all we set out to conquer Faerie Queene, now under a cover of powder snow. We chickened out but magnificent views were had. Sunday saw us slogging down the Ada and up the the Waiau to Glacier Gully in the sweltering heat. Peter and I made a side trip to [unclear: a] Guyon to try to bludge some sugar off the Forestry cullers there They were out but we met some fishermen who had flown! in that day (very demoralizing). The next day we decided Una was beyond us (anyway it was supposed ot be impossible from this side) so we climbed up to a knob to the North of Una.

Tuesday was another sweltering day, so with many swims and a three hour break at midday, we made our way to the Forks at the head of the Waiau Valley. We slept out that night and a nice early start the next day saw us plodding up to the Waiau Pass [unclear: (7000] -at least it was cooler in the earlier morning. Over the pass and down the shingle slide gave us lunch and a swim (very cold) at Lake Constance (4500'). We travelled a around the lake, over the moraine wall and down to our campsite at Blue Lake. That night we had a variation in evening meal, instead of 'deb'- chicken supreme, very nice but not enough to feed a mouse.

Thursday- friday:- too hot to do anything but play with the robins so Franklin was left alone. However Peter and I did at least walk down [unclear: t] through the Sabine Wilderness area to Sabine Forks on Thursday. On Friday night we heard and saw the rare blue duck. The next day, an early page break so Franklin was left alone. However Peter and I did at least walk down through the Sabine Wilderness to Sabine Forks on Thursday. On: [unclear: Aday] night we heard and saw! the rare blue duck. The next day, an early rise and we climbed up onto Moss Pass Chamois and herds of deer were plentiful. Turning south instead of north we ran into some difficulties trying to get down into the D'Urville but we made it, and after athree hour work down the valley we decided on a campsite at 7p.m. After an early morning visit from keas and robins we managed to be away by 10a.m. Lunch at Morgan Hut, a swim another couple of hours further on and so we arrived at D'Urville Hut at Lake Rotoroa. After a troublesome night with 'mossies' comfortable beds, we met Mr. Flowers' boat and dropped in on the Whiteheads for lunch (we met them at the top of the Waiau Pass). Terry, Thora and Peter caught a bus to Nelson and flew home while Mr. Whitehead gave Ross and I a lift to Blenheim and we caught the ferry home.

Party:- Thora [unclear: Blithe], Peter [unclear: Jamieson], Ross Gooder, Nigel Eggers.

Leader:- Terry Waghorn.

½½½½½½½½½½½½½½½½½½

'Mountaineering is one of the finest sports imaginable but to practise it without technique is a form of more or less deliberate suicide.'

- Gasten Rebuffat.

'Suddenly Lacheval grabbed me:

"If I go back what will you do?"

A whole sequence of pictures flashed through my head: the days of marchin in sweltering heat, the hard pitches we had overcome, the tremendous efforts we had all made to lay seige to the mountain, the daily hereism of all my friends in establishing the camps. Now we were nearing our goal. In an hour or two, perhaps, victory would be impossible. My whole being revolted against the [unclear: ies]. I had made up my mind irrevecably. Today were consecrating an ideal, and no sacrifice was too great. My voice rang out clearly:

"I should go on by myself."

In would go alone. If he wished to go down it was not for me to stop him. He must make his own choice freely.

"The I'll follow you."'

-from 'Annapurna' by Maurice Herzeg.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()