Umpah—ol' Arthur's Pass

Ski-ing, Above and Below the Snow-line

After a wakeful night in the steerage of the "Rangitira" deciding that the roar of the propellers was more like an aeroplane engine than an express train, twenty trusty trampers trooped triumphantly on to the Christchurch railway station (which is unworthy of capitals) and made a concerted rush for the breakfast room. They then each rushed off in all directions, trying to fill in time until the evening train. This they succeeded in after a fashion. (Christchurch readers please note: the semi-lunatics that walked all over Canterbury College making extremely rude remarks, who were nearly thrown out of three eating houses in succession, and who were most unbecomingly amused at a serious and mellow dramatic film were not a fair cross section of V.U.C.)

Guards and policemen to the contrary, they finally got under way on the train that drags its slow length rather amiably over every piece of shunt line on the Canterbury plains. By 1 a.m. they were tired of sitting in the carriage they had won from the guard, so they all jumped off at Arthur's Pass. Next morning, about 3 o'clock in the afternoon, a few of them managed to struggle up the steep, steep side of Mt. Temple in search of snow. This was found in reasonable quantities, though, as many persons could be heard to remark, "It hurts a bit when you fall on it." To record the ski-ing (pronounced skiing) operations that then commenced would be tedious. Sometimes it was fine, at others it snewed; sometimes people "stayed on their feet, often they didn't; some people twisted their ankles, others their thumbs.

In considering the trip, the following questions spring to mind. (Ten correct answers win a box of chocolates.)

How did the hospitable Mr. Wittiskie keep the party in such excellent spirits? Was it the bathroom in his pretty little pub?

How was Benno Cotti's pipe recovered, and why does he still smoke it?

What was the interesting object Dave Cohen found on the floor one morning?

What should have been the reaction of the Christchurch butcher whom Jacky Patrick asked for forty pounds of sausages? Did he really believe the tiger yarn?

Is Roy Dickson's mind deeper or lower than one would think?

Does Mary Cohen always upset railway guards? She has a kind face?

Does Max Eichelbaum find swot easier than skiing (pronounced skiing in her case)?

Should Bob Hunt's eating capacity be measured in cubic yards or tons?

Did Gwenda Martin have some ulterior motive in jacking up a twisted leg?

What part of anatomy and physioology absorbed Gus Ferguson so much?

Why should Christchurch residents resent John Ziman's rendering of the mating call of the wild stag?

Does George Turner run down hill because he is too lazy to stop himself?

Why should Doctor Dan always go through the Otira Tunnel (biggest hole in the British Empire) at 5 o'clock every evening?

Did Keith Dudson learn those songs in Otago?

Is a private bar the only place where Larry Calvert has fits of hysterics?

Why did three members of the party not return until 7 a.m. after the strenuous dance put on by the local yokels?

Does Midge McLaughlin like walking to Otira because of the view?

Is hunger what makes Mary Flynn like cooking?

Did Mike Benge's night cap help his night allure?

Did Bruce Milburn repent his life as it flashed past him while he was sliding down the glacier?

Has Jean Priest long been in the habit of muttering "Dirty bottles," under her breath?

What prevented Ted Bradstock from getting around to a bit of mashing?

(As the answers to the above questions are confidential, they may only be obtained by writing to the appropriate authorities in triplicate.)