Heels 1998 Trip Reports - Part Three

• VUWTC in the Wainui Hills Part Three
• Wellington vs Auckland Cricket Match
• Tasman Saddle
• VUWTC in Chamonix
• The Hopkins Valley
• Holiday in the South
• I don't Feel that Clever Either!
• Rockclimbing report
• SAR '98 - Lost for words
• What to do during the Christmas holidays

VUWTC in the Wainui Hills Part Three

In the previous episode: Team 8 found Mark and contact base (where is the base? Is it really in Wellington, or is it somewhere in outer space? Also, how do we know that it is Dave Walker on the other end, or has he been abducted by aliens?). Also we found out his favourite food is McDonalds - , and his favourite drink is Spree. Has anyone actually heard of Spree before? Apparently it comes in three flavours. Read on to hear the latest...

Marty (Team 5) co-ordinated the stretcher teams and the setting up of the belay, and kept me constantly informed on how long things would take and what was to happen during the stretcher carry. Since Nyree had established a rapport with Mark, she was to accompany the stretcher on the walk out, while I was to take vital signs until we reached the road-end. Dave and Adrian were responsible for taking down the HF radio (backup if the VHFs had problems - there were a couple but we got by) and general stretcher carrying and bush clearing duties. Getting Mark into the stretcher turned out to be much easier than we expected as Mark had to take a leak and was able to step into the stretcher by himself.

Suddenly everything was ready and we started carrying the stretcher round to the belay point and then we began the descent. Mark was obviously a little distressed by the movement of the stretcher, but overall he coped incredibly well as we descended to the creek.

Thanks to all the SAR First Response Squad Training, the Belay system was put up in quick time and worked perfectly, and everyone involved in the stretcher carry knew what they were doing. It shows that the SAR First Response Training works. So those of you who haven't done enough training (or any at all) should get into it ASAP.

30 minutes of bush clearing and splashing along the creek found us finally at the grass reserve at the end of Hare Rd where the ambulance staff were waiting for us. We got back to the Police station at 0300 where we had hot soup waiting for us. Yum!!! (Thanks Red Cross yet again).

Tom Clarkson did a debriefing of the teams and overall there were very positive comments about the whole operation. There were the obvious complaints about comms but was mainly restricted to the search during the day before the portable repeater was put into place. The other comment made was that many of the tasks from Special Ops had street names and not grid references, hence it was difficult to work out where the teams were supposed to start/end their tasks without having a proper street map available (Topographical Maps don't have street names!!!). It was also very touching to be thanked by Mark's sister who had been involved in the search (calling out his name from the ridge top with a loud hailer). Involving the family members in the search may be a good idea - they get a better appreciation for why things can take so long.

Also mentioned (by our team) was that the sound sweep could/should be modified depending on the type of person being searched for. A fully competent person will probably recognise a whistle as coming from a search team and reply, however young children, elderly and IHC people are (possibly) more likely to respond to their names (as it was in Mark's case). Also the topography of the area being searched can limit the use of the sound sweep: don't assume that the best place to call from is the highest point (i.e. the ridge top). We found that Mark (and ourselves) could not hear calls from the ridge, but could hear calling into the gully from the spurs. Also we could not hear calls from Mark (if indeed he did call out to our hails) up on the ridge, and indeed 30-40m up from where we first heard him we could barely hear his conversation with Adrian - but we could hear dogs and peoples voices from street level!

Aside from the obvious success of the search, the whole thing worked very well in my opinion. The advance warning the VUWTC got allowed many people to arrange time off (if they were needed), and the co-ordination of the teams seemed to be very efficient - very little waiting around for equipment, tasks, or transport. Again thanks heaps to Team 8 (Dave H., Nyree, and Adrian), Dave W. (the voice at the end of the radio), Thanks for supplying what we needed, Marty, Murray Presland, Roo, and all the people of Teams 3 & 5 who helped bring Mark out. Thanks to Brendan for the callout, and to all the people who said they'd arrange time off for Tuesday but then weren't called out.

It was great to hear during the debrief that Mark had checked out OK and was allowed to go home.

Several things were learnt or remembered during the search:

1. Obviously NIL-BY-MOUTH until otherwise told (cardinal rule of Fist Aid). I made the mistake of giving Mark some water (because he was very thirsty) and a bit of a Snickers bar which he later vomited
2. Always take a high powered torch(es) (came in very handy for searching for tracks and sweeping the surround bush)
3. Ensure everyone in the team knows what they have to do. Stop and take the time to explain what needs to be done if a team member is unsure of his/her task.
4. Be equipped - ALL TEAM MEMBERS NEED A COMPASS AND WHISTLE (you should have a compass anyway - who goes into the hills without one!)
5. If you find a track, etc that you haven't been tasked to search, and you're unsure if any other team is to search that track, either do a quick search or check in with base to get more information. Ultimately it was pure luck that we found Mark, as we hadn't been tasked to search the firebreak running down the spur from spot height 280!
6. EVERYONE ON THE FIRST RESPONSE SQUAD keep up your commitment and attend the training - you know the requirements.

MOTHER CRIES WITH RELIEF AS SON SURVIVES BUSH ORDEAL - Evening Post 24/11/98 The mother of the 29-year-old intellectually handicapped man who was lost in the Wainuiomata Hills for more than 36 hours said she burst into tears of relief when he was found safe and well last night. "You have no idea how grateful I am," said Alison Bedford, whose son Mark was found in dense bush at 11:40pm yesterday. He was badly scratched, bruised, cold and thirsty but otherwise unharmed by his ordeal - of nearly two nights in the hills with no food, water or warm clothing. He had lost his running shoes and was wearing just the running shorts and T-shirt he had when he set out to make his own way home over the rugged hill tracks from Naenae after a Special Olympics training session on Sunday Morning. Detective Ron Scott of Wainuiomata Police, said Mark's rescue was "bordering on a miracle". If he had been out for a full second night his chances of survival would have been substantially reduced. It had been a difficult rescue and he praised search and rescue volunteers who pulled it off. After making voice contact with Mark it took searchers another three hours to reach him and then get him out on a stretcher. "They were absolutely shattered and some were cut to shreds," said Mr Scott. Eating breakfast this morning, Mark said he thought it might have been easy to get over the hills from Naenae to Wainuiomata, but the tracks were confusing. He said that on Sunday night he laid down and got a good sleep. Sometime yesterday as continued to find his way out, he lost his shoes. The laces had come undone and he wasn't able to do them up. At one stage he saw a searching helicopter and waved to it, but it flew on. He said he was frightened and the first thing he said to his rescuers is "I'm weak and I'm hungry". Mark said he would not attempt to go into the hills again in his own. Mrs Bedford, who with her daughter took part in the search, said that when they got Mark back to Wainuiomata Police Station last night he was found to be in such good shape he did not need to go to hospital. They took him back to the IHC home in Main St and gave him a hot bath, cheese sandwiches, two cups of Milo and put him to bed about 4am.

Wellington vs Auckland Cricket Match

The good guys don't always win

The call had gone out loud and clear, calling all patriotic red blooded Victoria University tramping club members - WE NEED YOU! Our mission was to whip the pants (and anything else we could get our hands on) off the Auckland University tramping club members at the inaugural Wellington versus Auckland tramping championship. We were keen, we were eager and we were ready, we wanted blood and needed a good shower.

We arrived on Friday night keen on hitting our pits ASAP after the long drive. Just when most of us were finally starting to doze off 'they' arrive (Cunning Ploy 1: sleep deprivation). From the safety of our pits we stared at our opponents and had a quiet chuckle to ourselves, we would easily prevail in the coming events (Cunning Ploy 2: giving a false sense of security). At some time during the night the Auckland reinforcements arrived, although I didn't see or hear them come in the evidence was everywhere in the morning (Cunning Ploy 3: quantity sometimes is better then quality).

In the morning we decided to join the Aucklanders for a friendly (yeah, right) game of cricket while we waited for the judges to arrive. The rules were simple (had to be so the Aucklanders could understand them) if you lost the ball you were out and the game was over because we didn't have any other balls. Although our numbers were down we put in a strong showing and were feeling quietly confident. Leigh, Ben and a few others arrived and the games began.

The first event was the navigation exercise. We were running out of time and it was decided that each team would split into two. The keen beans were sent off up some god forsaken hill while the rest of us were lead to the start of a supposedly nice gentle bush track. Wellington was to go second and just to make sure that we didn't follow the Aucklanders it was arranged that we would leave some time after they did. The exercise relied quite heavily on judging distances and so we diligently set about pacing out the distance until we noticed some orange tags with numbers that seemed to correspond to the distance along the track. We figured ah-ha instead of hunting high and low for these markers we could judge the exact distance. Knowing as we did about the distance indicators we set about searching exactly the right distance and a little off to the side of the track as per our instructions. Eventually hidden away in the worst possible place the marker was found using our teams combination of patience, ESP ability and lots of luck (mostly luck).

At the next marker we had to wait for the Aucklanders to finish and so our team strategy was worked out, we would spread out in a search pattern on either side of the track. The Aucklanders were finally finished and it was our chance to search. We searched and searched and then searched some more. To cut a long story short not only didn't we find the marker but the Aucklanders showed us where it was (Cunning Ploy 4: nothing like bursting the ego). We had lost round one but the games were young.

It was getting on a bit and it was decided to hit the Ohakune social scene (Cunning Ploy 5: get the opposition hideously drunk and hung over in the morning). We had a great time and everyone got on real well particularly Adrian who had finally found a joke sparring partner. We were challenged by the Aucklanders to a 'friendly' game of pool which we subsequently won thanks to a very dramatic, excellently placed shot sinking the black after rebounding off three sides, completely planned. It should be noted that cunning ploy 5 not only failed but rebounded as the hang-overs were all on the Aucklanders side in the morning.

While Leigh and Ben retrieved some markers left behind on Saturday we thought it would be kind of neat to have a game of bull rush, and so we found a flattish spot and went to it. A certain two members of the Wellington team introduced a whole new facet to the game when they grabbed a certain white Toyota heap-of-rust and used it for bull rush. Strangely enough the car was never caught although a valiant attempt by Julian involving rolling under the front tires almost succeeded (we just backed up to get a good run at him and he got out of the way).

Sunday's weather was definitely not conducive to playing cricket but some of us decided that it would be cool to play the cricket match on the carpark at Turoa and so we piled into cars and off we went. The wicket was definitely lacking in bounce and was a little on the slow side (due to the slushy snow layer), and had lots of turn (due to the rocks just above the slushy snow). The boundaries were about two meters on the leg side (over the edge of a large drop) and fifty metres in most other directions but due to surface snow on the outfield boundaries were infrequent.

The awarding of the ceremonial good-for-nothing-but-giving-away ice axe was made to the Auckland team because the only event the judges were present for was the navigation exercise. However it should be noted that we won the pool games, the cricket match, the joke competition and bull rush.

The games were a success and although we didn't win we had a great time. We gave Leigh and Ben a hard time for not even slightly being biased towards us but they did a fantastic job and deserve a big thanks from all of us.

Tasman Saddle

Half in jest I suggested to Simon that we go to Mt Cook for our week down South in November and he liked the idea. To make matters worse he wanted to climb Mt Cook itself, by the Zubriggens Ridge. We left Wellington on October 30 prepared to be very flexible with our plans. The weather had been really bad for the previous month (just ask any Kapiti resident) and spring conditions predominated in the Alps. A mountain of gear was required to cater for all our contingency plans so we sent down a 33kg parcel by road as well as our two packs each on the aeroplane (and this didn't include food). The forecast looked good for the middle of the week, but not brilliant, so we set our sights on Tasman Saddle, a less serious, but still very challenging area in the Mt Cook region. Our organisation left a little to be desired because of the required flexibility so, even with the door to door service provided by Simon's parents, we had a day in Christchurch before we could catch a bus. We used this time to visit some of Simon's old tramping/climbing friends, check out town, buy some food and to go rock climbing. The crags on the Port Hills are a wonderful local venue. Simon tells me the weather is always good, I found the rock good and the view is stunning if you like looking at flat, sprawling cities.

Our bus driver to Cook the following day was an interesting guy. He singled us out as the only New Zealanders on the bus and me as the only North Islander. Some of his philosophical musings, which continued most of the way to Mt Cook, were a little uncomfortable in the presence of tourists. He even started talking about the war at one stage and I noticed the woman in front of me, as well as having nice breasts, was reading a German magazine. His main complaint about running over cyclists was the amount of paperwork required, that and the mess on the front grille of the bus. Our arrival at lunchtime was followed by much wandering around the village carrying large amounts of gear. Eventually we headed out to the Tasman Glacier road end with fairly big five day packs, only to find that no one would give us a lift. Some English tourists picked us up when we were almost at the carpark. We spent that night at Ball Shelter before heading out onto the moraine the next morning.

I was expecting a nightmare amongst the huge piles of shattered rock that litter the lower part of any glacier but it wasn't as bad as my preconceived idea. From Ball Shelter the moraine looks huge and it is; the Tasman is New Zealand's largest glacier. But there are smoother, easier parts and the Ball Road cuts out a lot of it. The most awkward parts are where the rock is very thin on top of the ice, like marbles on concrete on a steep slope. After three hours we reached the white ice and I assumed the worst was over.

The ice was carved, squeezed and melted into channels, ridges, lumps and hollows but these were pretty small and easy to negotiate in early November. Beyond De La Beche hut however we hit the snow and with all the warm weather it was very soft. Roped up for glacier travel and travelling ten metres apart made conversation difficult so the walk became a long, boring plod.

The cloud lifted as we made progress up the glacier and the scenery was awe inspiring. I was impressed and rather frightened by the Hochstetter Icefall, a huge crumbling mass of ice falling onto the Tasman from the Grand Plateau. One thing you have to get used to at Cook is the sound of things falling down all the time. Rock or ice crashes off some cliff every few minutes, very unnerving at first. A New Zealand mountaineering legend has it that a party of Japanese didn't know the route up to Plateau Hut and assumed that the Hochstetter Icefall was the correct way. They arrived at the hut after a few days and amazingly they were all alive. If this story is true the members of that party completed possibly the most difficult and certainly the most dangerous climb in New Zealand.

The snow covered mountains at the top of the glacier were fantastically beautiful. We were completely surrounded as we slowly made our way up the glacier. Cook is an amazing area, so big, so beautiful and so violently contrasting. Mt Cook itself is a massive piece of landscape. It is THE dominant feature. Its height and a huge bulk takes up an enormous area in the sky and gives it a presence no other mountain nearby comes close to. Tasman is a mere nipple on the ridge in comparison. The plod continued and small rock near Darwin Corner turned into an oasis amongst the snow. We both had a short nap here. It was then onward around the corner and up to the hut. Someone in the hut when we arrived suggested that walking in was a character building exercise, i.e. learning that there is an airport at the village with ski-planes! After a 13 hour walk, including a rather dodgy route up a steep bit, around some ice cliffs and over some crevasses (the "nose dive") we arrived at Tasman Saddle Hut and I was absolutely "poked". Needless to say, the next day was a rest day. The weather was fantastic and I spent much of the day on the roof of the hut admiring the view, eating food and smoking cigars. Mt's Green, Walter and Elie de Beaumont stretched out to the West, Hochstetter Dome dominated the Northern skyline and to the South and East were the rocky peaks of the Malte Brun range. In the afternoon we took a short walk (once again in very soft snow) over the neve to Kelman Hut. We planned to do some climbing on the bluffs over there but it started to drizzle, so after grabbing some of the good food lying around (hut food abounds at Cook) we headed back. I left my white business shirt behind, a mistake that was to prove costly.

A 3:30am start heralded the beginning of our main climbing day, objective: South East Ridge of Elie de Beaumont. I dislike early starts (like just about everyone) and this morning was no exception. After stuffing around with gear we finally got out on the snow at 5:00. There was no freeze overnight and the snow plod started from the first minute. Sunrise was spectacular, Mt Cook lit up like a huge lava-lamp as the whole area changed from turquoise to pink to yellow to blinding white. We reached the bottom of the ridge by 7:00 and started climbing. A couple of crevasses proved troublesome at the bottom. I really dislike stepping onto a snow bridge and hearing a deep "whoompfh" as it settles. We started pitching very early on due to the soft snow and didn't stop until we were off the ridge at 7:00 that night. This made for slow progress but it couldn't be avoided. The ridge was very steep and airy with a 300m drop on one side and a 1000m drop on the other. Some parts had a thin layer of soft snow over hard ice. Other parts were corniced and if care wasn't taken one could kick ones foot right through to the other side. As Simon put it, there wasn't too much concern of falling off oneself but there was a great risk of unstable snow falling off and taking one with it. At midday we came up to a particularly nasty piece of mixed climbing and decided to turn back. If we had gone on there would have been that between us and safety and it wasn't the kind of thing you wanted to do twice in bad conditions. After a quick cigar and snack we headed back the same way at the same slow pace. We didn't return to the hut until 9:00pm. The other group staying at Tasman Saddle had reached the summit of Elie that day, by the standard route, but I think we had a lot more fun and certainly a more interesting time by having to turn back on something harder. I found the constant stress of being in a precarious situation very tiring but must agree with Simon that it is a great feeling to come back from something rather difficult alive and uninjured. I learnt that a grade 3- is a lot harder than a grade 2, especially when it is not in condition.

Next day was once again a rest day. We would have loved to do something but without my business shirt the day before I had a badly sunburnt neck and my ears were pretty crusty too. The snow had hardened up overnight and the weather was once again perfect. We sat around the hut all day wishing to be climbing something. The following day had the same conditions again but unfortunately we had to walk out down the glacier. An early start rewarded us with crisp snow and we managed to beat the thaw down to the ice. I tried jumping over a crevasse and strained some ligaments in my thumb when I landed badly. I couldn't see in the flat light that the other side was about a metre lower. Simon laughed. After this I trusted snow bridges and they held. We followed our footsteps from four days beforehand over many crevasses we didn't even realise were there on the way up. The moraine was easier with a lighter pack but it was mainly the hard snow in the morning that meant we got to Ball Shelter in just over half the time it took us to go the other way. Next time I think I will fly in and walk out. It saves the pain of plodding up the glacier but more importantly it allows you more climbing days when you get there.

At Ball Shelter the tourists started. First was a group of mad French people. The walk along the Ball road was where our feet started to tell us they had had enough of plastic boots. Fortunately some Namibian tourists at the carpark were happy to give us a ride back to the village. This was after some American tourists on a 4wd tour had ooohed and aaahed at our mountaineering prowess from the safety of their land cruisers (without offering us a ride!). After a night at Unwin hut we had a much quieter bus trip to Christchurch (different driver).

Another day in Christchurch was spent visiting more of Simon's friends, checking out the movie theatre and doing some more climbing. In between all that was coffee, lunch and a game of pool somewhere. Our plane to Wellington left at 6:50 and we were home 45 minutes later, no boring float across Cook Strait on one of Tranz Rail's mangy old tubs (Hey, hey, hey - let's not be unreasonable here - Ed). Maaate!

VUWTC in Chamonix

Caroline Duggan: "Why can't we just stay here forever…."

Jeremy Bray: "Wot, and eat French toast and stale French bread and sleep on a flat thermarest in Frogland?"

Halfway through my new career as a traveller I decided it was time to catch up on some goss. After a hasty email consultation I caught a train from Innsbruck, Austria to Chamonix in the southern French Alps in the hopes of catching up with Caroline Duggan and Jeremy Bray. As I sat rocking in the train, grand visions of Chamonix flitted through my head. All the stories I'd heard from Bek Eyles and Anjali Pande had whetted my appetite for what I rather naively wanted to be CLIMBING with a capital C. I recalled sitting on the floor of my cousin's flat in Solihull flicking through the routes of Mt. Blanc, Aiguille du Midi, and Les Petite Drus, and to be perfectly honest freaking myself out with an invigorating sadistic enjoyment!

My previous tramping and climbing exploits on the continent had led me day-tripping in the Czech countryside through fields and fairytale castles, cathedrals and thunderstorms, chickens and old women crying "Dobry Den! Dobry Den!". After a while I decided I wanted to go climbing again so I embedded myself in East Tirol, Austria near the Venediger range of mountains in a little village called Pragraten. Previously I had wandered around St Johann up the Kitzbuhlhorn and around the Maulkspitze area where I saw one of the Austrian Alpine Club members soloing up among the peaks.

Pragraten was filled with Dutch families, all of whom were very nice, but weren't climbers, so I fell back on my faithful occupation of day tripping. I became a connoisseur of what you can achieve in day, basically so I didn't have to pay the hut (read Hotel) fees and my camping fees. In the Hohe Tauern National Park you are not allowed to camp and I respected that.

My days were spent wandering through pastures of alpine flowers and through expansive glacial valleys housing a unique selection of wildlife including the furry marmots that I would see playing amongst the rocks. Summer alpine storms were very frequent; one of which stopped my ascent of the Walltorlhorn (3045m). It also snowed quite a lot for mid-summer! The highlights of this particular trip were finally finding the rare Edelweiss at about 2400m, and a mountain chapel in a cave up by Bonn-Matreier Hutte. Although these Alps are fairly enormous, nothing had prepared me for the spiky metropolis we call Chamonix.

At Martigny I caught the mountain train to Chamonix with one minute to spare. A few minutes later I was slightly disconcerted to see the inspector gazing at my ticket with a frown on his moustached face. Finally he garbled at me in French.
"Je ne sais pas", I replied. "Parlez vous anglais?"
"You have the wrong ticket", he said.

I was in a state of internal panic. Was he going to throw me off the train and down the 400m drop below?
"Dis is ze express train to Chamonix"

The frown became a scowl. Things were not looking good. I apologised profusely, but to my surprise a great grin broke out over his face:
"It is okay!", he beamed. "Today I give it to you, France wins ze World Cup!"
By now the whole train was singing the game song and the French national anthem. There is something to be said for football! Ten minutes later I saw the guard thoroughly drunk and lurching down the aisles conducting the crowd. Incidentally a lovely couple from Spain invited me to stay with them - they weren't drunk (surprisingly).

It was 37 degrees in Chamonix so I crashed in Les Arolle campsite and wondered if I was sane. The following day I went round every single campsite within 6km of Chamonix a pied to find those two antipodeans. The town of Chamonix itself was a hustling, bustling jumble of cafes, restaurants and gear shops with climbers sitting haggard or happy in the shade and punters stomping around in their plastics and salopettes. Lots of people carry ice axes in Chamonix. Whether this is protection from the crowds or a symbol of your status I never found out. All I know is that I didn't have one!

Finally I located Caroline and Jeremy at the Les Drus campsite, only to discover they were out and had left me a 3-week old note on the tent. I returned at 6pm sharp and was overjoyed to see them both. They immediately gave me half their dinner because they were sick of tinned ravioli. After two months of rice and lentils I was in heaven!

The week that followed involved walking and sport climbing at Les Gaillands and La Joux while I recovered from the flu, which I then promptly passed on to Jeremy. So we took it easy and spent summer days on crowded crags being climbed over, round and on. At some places we figured someone had invented the bolt-machine gun. At night we would sit around the campsite watching the continuous flights of the rescue helicopter. One night I could see a tiny pin prick of light way up on Les Petits Drus - not the greatest of places to spend the night I thought.

By the time my cousin Doug and friends Fiona, Andy and Jo turned up we were in a state of boredom, heat exhaustion and had invented 101 ways to use French bread. Next door to us a Belgian climber (still in school) was tripping up and down North Faces all over the place. It was time to get a move on and do some exploring so we chose an easy summit scramble before contemplating something more serious. We decided on the Aiguille de Belvedere. We then lugged everything to the telepherique because secretly we all wanted to have a ride in one and it was great fun. We then walked in the blistering heat and crowds of people and goats to Lac Blanc and proceeded up towards the little peak. Crossing the snow slopes was exciting as everyone got to try out their lekki poles. They truly make a difference and save much cartilage grinding in your knees. The only boots that Caroline and Jeremy had were Hitec so we went pretty fast to avoid their feet getting sodden. Doug stopped at a small ridge because of a severe migraine, but pressed us to go on. After a few painkillers, we gave him some gear to look after and continued up amongst crumbling rock as the light diminished and the sun sent red rays out across the valley. And what a valley it is! Both sides are surrounded by needle like peaks climbing over 3000m. Big white glaciers crawl down the sides like giant tyre tracks. Up and up we trudged through the snow until we hit rock again. I did my usual "isn't this great?" routine to which the reply was "Why are you always so damned happy?". Everyone was grinning with the excitement of being up in space over Southern France. Actually Caroline was grinning because her poles were so cool.

We then began a scramble up a ridgeline until we came to and exposed peak. Caroline delicately sidled around and climbed up and over the shute leading to the next climb. Feeling the clutch of gravity Jeremy, Andy and I followed until we were suddenly faced with an inward corner climb. We were now in the notch you can see from Lac Blanc. For a minute we paused, then decided to rope up. We all hung back on the question of who was going to lead, but Andy very nobly let me, so up I went. I had envisioned protecting myself with slings but to my surprise I found a lovely piton embedded halfway up, so I clipped into that. Reaching the top I could see a beautiful spiky ridge stretching away from us, and on my right a wonderful steep drop down to a mystical green valley. For a moment I was speechless, surveying the wonderful view until "Oi! Shortie! We're cold down here!", and Andy whizzed up the climb. Soon we were all up there realising it was sunset and heavy storm clouds were gathering ready to throw rain and lightning. Jeremy reckons the Aiguilles (spikes) pop the clouds to let the rain fall out - I can see what he means! So we bid a fond farewell to the distant summit at least 2 hours away and raced back to Doug who was still ill. We then wandered back to Lac Blanc and bivved out in a lovely hollow where we built a stone wall for shelter. This was situated next to the tallest cairn I've ever seen. At this point both Caroline and myself felt the call of nature, but there was no cover. Sneaking up to the nearby café, we found the toilet door locked but the window was open. The inevitable solution arose and in climbs Caroline, followed by myself who gets stuck. Enter café owner…. I turn and smile sweetly, bat my eyelashes: "Bonjour Monsieur". There is nothing more embarrassing than being caught breaking into a café toilet block, especially when your partner in crime has dissolved into giggles. The owner surveyed us with an air of resignation. "It is okay", he said, and unlocked the door.

By now I was an expert at surviving on nothing, so I cooked lentils, rice, sardines and a lovely tomato sauce el cheapo style. This was greeted with cries of "Revolting!" -Caroline, "Interesting" - Doug and Andy (manfully chomping through it), "Unusual" - Jeremy, and "Great! I'm starving!" - me. The evening fell and it was a perfect star-spangled sky so we watched shooting stars and hit my cousin when he snored. We wished Fiona and Jo could have been there, but Fiona was pregnant and Jo was keeping her company. The day ahead was filled with the promise of more climbing, and exploration - Chamonix, what an awesome place to be!

People on this trip:
Melinda Short
Caroline "I want fizzy lemon and chips" Duggan
Jeremy "Look what I can do with my thumb and French bread" Bray
Andy "Merci Beaucoups" Pennhallurick
Douglas "Mui-ee-lii-uu-sli" Balmer
Support Crew: Jo "Your lentil burgers are nice…" Balmer
Fiona "It's not fair, I want to go climbing" Pennhallurick

The Hopkins Valley

I was back in NZ on leave from my job in Oman and I was keen to go on a trip down south. I knew Peter Smale would be keen and he suggested the Hopkins Valley. Peter had been up Twin Stream over Easter doing some climbing and while there he had climbed Glentanner Peak. From there he had a good view of the Main Divide where it runs up the Hopkins Valley. He said that the peaks looked really spectacular and especially Mt Hopkins. The plan was to head down to the Hopkins Valley and have a go at the east ridge of Mt Hopkins.

We caught the 9:30am ferry from Wellington on the 10th of June and were met in Picton by Peter's mother who was driving to Christchurch. From there we met up with Peter's brother who lent us his car for a week. We called in at Peter's friend Miles' house to pick up Peter's climbing gear and got a look at the forecast. It was going to be good for a couple of days so we decided to head for the road end at the end of Lake Ohau that night.

After a bit of shopping we were away from Christchurch at 7pm and reached the road end at about midnight. It wasn't quite the road end shown on the map which had a hut only 15 minutes away. Quite a bit of the road had been washed away and we were stopped about 5km short of the proper road end. We didn't really want to walk that far at that time of night so we decided to sleep in the back of the car. Luckily it was a station wagon but it was still quite uncomfortable sleeping with your legs bent all night. I had decided to go light weight this trip and only had a 130g sleeping bag so didn't have the warmest night's sleep. I was really hoping we didn't get a cold southerly change during the rest of the trip.

The next morning there was low lying cloud in the valley but after we had packed up the cloud layer started to rise. It was a boring road bash to the road end but we went reasonably fast to keep warm as it was very cold. We soon reached Monument Hut and went into some beech forest for about 15 minutes as the track sidled above the river. After that we got onto the river flats and out into the sun as it started to penetrate into the valley. We thought it would be a bit of a boring river gravel bash but the scenery was awesome with the Neumann Range on our right and the Main Divide ahead of us. We had a good view of the Dasler Pinnacles which are some large slabs which provide some excellent alpine rock at about 2300m height. We crossed the Huxley River which was not very high but was freezing cold; I thought I was going to lose my feet. Just before Elcho Stream we stopped for a late breakfast with excellent views of Mt Ward and up valley too Hopkins and Black Tower.

lcho Stream was just as cold as the Huxley and about 3km passed that we crossed over the footbridge onto the true left side of the Hopkins River. Past Dodger Hut the valley started to narrow and soon we were boulder hopping up a bit of a gorge. I noticed a pole on a terrace about 40m above a side stream leading into the Hopkins and we arrived at Erceg Hut at about 5pm after a long day of over 30km. From here Hopkins didn't look too far away and we had a good view of the South face of Humphries where Bill Macleod had put up a new route; as he had detailed in the log book. I was glad to have a good feed for dinner and then got on all my clothes before getting into my almost non existent sleeping bag. I also had a bivvy bag and was wearing polypro gloves and a balaclava. We planned to sleep in and go for a recce the next day.
I woke up the next morning at 4am with a full moon lighting up the inside of the hut. It was a perfectly clear sky outside with the whole eastern side of the Main Divide illuminated by moon light. Peter was also awake and suggested that we get up and go for it with the perfect weather. We had our breakfast and got on our plastic climbing boots and by 5am we were bashing up the river by moon light. It was too dark in the river so we climbed up onto a series of terraces about 60m above the river. The scrub was quite thick in places and it was hard work bashing through it wearing plastic climbing boots.

About 7 am we reached the snout of the Richardson Glacier and then started climbing up it's moraine reaching the white ice at 8am. This had taken longer than we thought it would and we could see how far we still had to go to get too Faith Col at 2100m. From there it is just under a 600m climb up the East ridge onto Hopkins. Even though it was winter the conditions were those of late summer. There had n' been any snow and all the crevasses on the glacier were wide open and it was quite cut up. There would be quite a bit of route finding involved getting up to the Col. We realised we wouldn't have the time to climb Hopkins and we were both feeling quite shagged. Running on the flat in Oman doesn't prepare you properly for NZ's mountains. We decided to head up to Mockery Col at 2098m. By this time it was light but it would be quite a few hours if at all before the sun got into the valley up where we were.

We traversed up the side of the glacier and then round some house size schrunds at the bottom of the slope up to Mockery Col. The slope was reasonably easy at the bottom and got steeper at the top and was a climb of 700m. There was only a bit of fresh snow on top of the permanent cover and there was a bit of running water with thin layers of ice over the top. I was glad to reach the top as I was feeling shagged and we had a sit down and an awesome view. There was a good view of the south ridge of Hopkins and Faith Col. We also had a view into the Landsborough and could see Dechen and Hooker to the south west. The sun hadn't come into the valley or up to where we were and it was cold in the wind so we hurried back down again.

We went down the river this time encountering quite a few frozen boulders and puddles. We were back at the hut at 4pm in time to miss the sun which had already left it. It was quite a cold day with no sun at all. After a quick feed we were into pit and slept until 10am the next day.

The next day was perfect weather again and we cruised down to Dodger Hut. We met a couple of guys on horse back there who had found the perfect way to travel up these wide South Island river valleys. We then headed down to Elcho Hut in time to get the last of the winter sun on it. Elcho hut is an awesome hut with a good fire place and a big supply of wood. It was good to have a fire that night and I had my warmest night in my sleeping bag. We were disturbed by a possum that night who got through an open window and we had to chase it out with an ice hammer and broom.

The weather was fine again in the morning and we headed for a day trip up the North Elcho Stream. It was easy going up to the junction with the South Elcho but it steepened quite a bit after that with a lot of boulder hopping. We climbed up to just beneath the permanent snow level at 1200m and had great views up to Elcho Pass and the south face of Mt Ward. The North Elcho Stream is a really beautiful spot.

We were back at the hut about lunch and after a feed headed down the valley aiming for Monument Hut for the night. The Hopkins gets quite wide as you head down it and you can see along way ahead of you as you walk down it. We eventually reached Monument Hut at 5pm but decided that it was a dive so decided to head out. It soon reached dusk and then we were walking in pitch back. We got to the car at about 6:30pm and I was glad to stop walking and get some warm clothes on.

We headed out to Twizel and a place to grab a feed. Unfortunately not a lot happens in Twizel and the fish 'n chip shop was closed when we reached it as well as every other shop. Luckily the service station was open so we got some petrol and some crusty pies. We drove too Lake Pukaki and pulled off down a side road to find somewhere to sleep. I lent Peter my biv bag and he slept outside while I slept in the car; another cold night. The next morning we stopped at Burkes Pass for fish 'n chips for breakfast and that night we were at Peter's parents place in Nelson then back to Wellington the next day.

We were: Eric Duggan and Peter Smale

Holiday in the South or 'Waitaha not quite as planned'

Let's plan a route for a winter West Coast trip. It's a fun game, so get out your maps and join in. Hmmm. Whitcombe map looks fun. How about up the Waitaha river to Top Waitaha hut, on to Ivory Lake, over to Prices Basin, into the Whitcombe, up to the Bracken snowfield (if time permits) and then out down the Hokitika ?

Eric was on leave from Oman, Adrian took a week off work and got permission to take his company car on holiday and I took a week off lectures and associated schoolwork.

Day 1

Day 2

Day 3

Day 4

Day 5

Day 6

Day 7

Day 8

I don't Feel that Clever Either!

Well I didn't. In fact I felt quite silly sitting with one leg either side of a very steep spur leading up to Waipawa Saddle in the Ruahines.

It had all started out well enough. We left Wellington on Friday night for three days wandering around the Ruahines over Labour weekend. On Friday night all the groups were in Triple X hut having walked there in very high winds and wondering what on earth we had let ourselves in for. Fortunately, the wind had dropped by the morning and it was a nice fine day. After the usual mucking around in the morning the groups headed in their separate directions with the aim of all meeting up again at Waterfall Hut on Sunday. My group consisted of Sarah Devon, Julian Boorman, Karla Roberts, Catherine Moger, and Julian's friend Sonia. In the morning we wandered up the Waipawa River, over Waipawa Saddle and down to Waikamaka Hut. There were a few people at the hut so we decided to pitch a fly down by the river. Suspecting that the wind was going to get up overnight we had a good go at tying the fly down. We used all the rocks. We used rocks that hadn't been moved in thousands of years, several of the rocks should have taken a large semi-trailer to shift, a large semi-trailer or a bunch of trampers who didn't want their fly to blow away. Having secured the fly those on dinner prepared the meal. After dinner Sonia and Karla went to sleep in the hut where it warmer and there was less high velocity air (and more Sonia's high velocity foot to the head of someone she didn't know, oops).

Things got a bit interesting overnight. As anyone who has fly camped in a stiff breeze before will tell you, fly's can move around, a lot. One second the fly was two feet away from our faces and the next it was having a good go a suffocating us. In the morning we noticed that another fly that had been pitched in the river flat had moved to a less windy spot during the night. Our fly had stayed up - damn it - but at what cost: lost sleep and a slow start in the morning. Not that it mattered in the end, as the weather was not at all conducive to tops travel. Several plans were investigated: we could go over the tops to Middle Stream, or even to Smith Stream Hut. These plans were discounted, and we decided to wander over Rangi Saddle to Waterfall Hut a mere two hours away. It was going to be a tough mission but we were determined to see it through. During our wander over Rangi Saddle we discovered that all of the Spaniard grass in the lower North Island had been transferred to this 500m2 patch of land. There was shit-loads of the stuff, by the time I got to the top I was one big puncture wound, the others had fared little better.

We found that Waterfall Hut was already occupied by the time we got there so we set up a fly in a really nice sheltered spot and waited for the other groups to arrive (thinking that we were the first). Soon Jeremy's group turned up and we found that it was his group that had occupied the hut and stolen our bunks! It turned out that the wind had changed their plans as well and they had come to Waterfall Hut straight from the road-end and had been on a short day trip when we arrived.

The fit group turned up late in the afternoon and it was looking like a cosy night in Waterfall. Only three of us slept under the fly and it was a brilliant night for it - perfectly clear with no wind. The next day we decided to wander out the way we came in, as there was still a bit too much wind about on the tops to allow easy travel. The groups merged and split as we headed for home. Simon joined our group for most of the trip out, which was largely uneventful until just after lunch…. We were travelling up towards Waipawa Saddle when Simon had a "good" idea.:

"Rather than following the track (it's so restrictive anyway)", Simon ventured, "why don't we go up to the saddle that way (pointing to a near vertical precipice)?"

The girls decided that someone had put the track there for a reason and decided to use it - the boys didn't know about tracks and took the direct route (a bad move). Julian and I headed up one gut and Simon went up another. Halfway up (and with all three of us on separate spurs) we decided that it wasn't all plain sailing. The ground was rocky, broken and very steep. Stopping for a while, we considered our options. Going back was out of the question (read suicidal) and proceeding on wasn't much better. The conversation went something like this:

Julian: "Whose idea was this?"
Simon: "I can't remember."
Julian: "Well I feel pretty stupid."
Adrian: "I don't feel that clever either."
Simon: "No one said you had to come."

All this time, the girls (being the supportive types they are) were laughing hysterically.

Julian made the first move and charged up 20 metres to some relatively flat ground. I was sitting both legs astride a very narrow spur and not really wanting to move, but deciding that I didn't want to be there all night, took my life in my hands and charged. Once at the top Julian and I had a tearful reunion telling each other to "never do that again".

Simon however was in a spot of bother. He was trying to kick steps into a rotten graywacke face and not having much success. Eventually a short rope was lowered to him and he managed to gain the top. "Well that was a bit of excitement then", he said, and we all wandered up to the top.

Not content with risking life and limb on the way up, he and Julian decided upon a scree slide down the other side. I thought walking might be a better option, and plodded on down.

As we wandered down the river we met up with more groups and we all stopped at Waipawa Hut for afternoon tea. It was a short hop out from there and we were back at the cars by 5pm. The trip back to Wellington was a bit interesting. I was in Simon's car and Jeremy was behind us. After a while we noticed that Jeremy was nowhere to be seen. "Where could he be?", we wondered. I joked about him probably having a flat tyre. We later found out that he did. Oops!

It all got sorted as we had dinner in Dannevirke and it was off home listening to Simon's excellent music selection (much kudos, Simon!). It was a great trip and I plan to return to the Ruahines one day - though it may be a while: a portion of this was written on a plane bound for Honolulu (well, there's not much to do on planes - but the children's music selection is very cool )

Rockclimbing report

What a year!!!

It started for me doing time at Paynes in February and debating returning to finish my degrees. A slight set back involving a monster fall (15cm) at the rec centre. Could have been worse though, two days earlier Silva had jumped from the top (oops) leading to pins and plaster. After the break (excuse the pun) I rejoined the masses at the back of the pack (Wellington punters unite).

There hasn't been a real winter in the North Island so heaps of rock climbing has been done. We had two official instruction trips which were a success, if you ignore the organising part of things. Rockcraft where not much was taught but lots of people gave rock climbing a go at the esteemed Baring Head. Then an advanced course up north based at Froggat and Wharepapa; 11 pupils, 5 instructors and a good time with lots getting done. The Matt Bayliss propelled flying fox was one of the trip's 'high'lights.

Baring Head has been busy with a number of visits and, although some of the winter river crossings were a bit deep, it's been good fun. Heaps of grades were pushed and a couple of new lines have been spotted - good luck to Derek Thatcher and Steve Conn.

Mangatepopo!!! What can be said. It rocks. Good trip placing, lots of gear and climbing with an alpine feel. Unfortunately the crims are back in action so guarding the cars at the road-end or storing them at the garage has become a necessity (although Chris will concede that the insurance companies are nice people, so it all worked out ok).

Central North Island, yet more trips to what has become a bit of a mecca. Froggat and Wharepapa South are running neck 'n' neck for the crowds.

Indoors. The rec centre has pumped all year. Over a hundred marked routes ranging from easyish (15) to insane (V6/7?). About 10 or 15 regulars have kept the long room humming - along with the indoor cricket community. Alas, Evolution is no more. Everyone's favourite bouldering gym has been dismantled - we will remember it, and with a little bit of luck it will be reincarnated in recognisable form somewhere else. Fergs and Hangdog are both up and running, and on Monday nights club members can often be found at Fergs.

A bouldering league was run by Steve Conn and was funner than a fun thing. Derek Thatcher (our climbing officer for 1999) won the series comprehensively, with several other members also placing in the top 15.

Summers here and the big climbing trips are starting to happen. Hopefully everyone's tendons and ankles can survive the summer (about 8 didn't make it through the winter) whether it be bouldering at Baring Head (or Castle Hill or Froggat or indoors or the Ruahines or long routes up the Malte Brun range or anything in between).

This hasn't come close to doing justice to the climbing that has been done. Doesn't matter, if you climb you probably know what's happened and otherwise you can always find out if you're interested. Enjoy the photos and spot ya later.

SAR '98 - Lost for words

Bummer. With the avalanche of new terms and TLA's (PLO, POA, POD, NOK, RSC, LKP, TCA, SDU, LPP, DOT, FHQ, etc), there had been little opportunity to practice the lingo', - until August.

Up until then, most people may have been thinking "So much for being on the SAR list". Bugger all had happened in terms of call-outs for most of the year, apart from the Hawkins Hill thing in June. However, a wee search in the Eastbourne Hills in August (three girls - all found), and another in the last week of November in the hills behind Wainui kept the interest levels up.

The training sessions this year were well utilised. The benefits of the four major themes in the training -

1. Track and clue awareness skills,
2. The (new) standard set of rope skills,
3. New search techniques (sound sweeps, purposeful wanderings,)
4. A good first aid grounding

- certainly came through in the Mark Bedford operation (see other articles).

SAR is changing. The focus is on doing things smarter, faster, and more efficiently (a familiar theme!) Being thinking people who are open to new ideas (most of the time), VUWTC members are therefore really suited for the evolving SAR scene. The duration of searches over the past five years has reduced significantly, with a search lasting more than 24 hours now being the exception. Maths and statistical analysis have hit the SAR management side in a big way, and computers are being utilised more often to aid in the planning and operational aspects of SAR.

Another major change is that SAR is now being perceived as a 24 hour operation. Shutting things down for the night is becoming more of a thing of the past. The HQ management is being organised into shifts that can operate continuously. Night time is a great time for searching, especially in applying various track clue awareness techniques. Where only recently, a night search was usually a reconnaissance of major tracks, the expectation of a team's effectiveness and capabilities is now a lot higher, especially in terms of tracking and clue awareness capabilities.

Mike Cotsilinis and I got an insight into "things to come" when we were fortunate in being invited to a Ross Gordon (Emergency Management Ltd) course back in July or thereabouts. In addition to the management of SAR operations from an HQ perspective, other issues included more emphasis on communication, both within the team and between the field and HQ, more effective types of searches, getting teams involved in 'interactive' briefing and debriefing sessions, and 'tuning in' before entering a search environment.

Some of these techniques will be introduced in the course of operations, as will have been noticed during the last couple of searches. Next year's training programme most likely include some of the new thinking in operational matters. The new techniques have brought with them a new language. Implementing them through regular training sessions is important in providing people from differing clubs and backgrounds with a similar set of skills and knowledge in terms of SAR. The result has been that SAR teams can now be made up from people from different clubs and be expected to operate effectively.

A BIG thank you to all those who have put their names forward and helped out this year. There is a bit of commitment required now, but the effort is providing excellent results. We are always on the lookout for new people who are willing to sacrifice a bit of time for the occasional chopper ride. Check out SAR next year, keep up with the training, and get out and enjoy.

What to do during the Christmas holidays

For some of us, the Christmas - New Years holidays are the best opportunity to kick off those working blues and head south without expending too many days of annual leave. The joys of working in the public sector!

On Boxing Day, Bek, Dave W and I began the usual trek down to the South Island. But this time for 9 days tramping, rather than rock climbing or touring, as in previous years.

The packs were rather heavy.

We began our 9 days tramping on the 27th Dec, at Lewis Pass by tramping into Ada Pass Hut on the St James Walkway. This track passes through Cannibal Gorge, the site of a vicious war between two local tribes trying to control a route through to greenstone sources.

The second day was a fantastic day over Three Tarn Pass to Bobs Hut. A long 11 hrs through patches of young pole stand beech and Spaniard - ouch. We were all pissed off and ended up with zillions of pricks and scratches. However, the alpine views were amazing. Bobs Hut is in a great spot.

The third day was supposedly camping in the headwaters of the East Matakitaki river, but we stopped at the hut at about 1/2 way. Some people were feeling tired!! It was a pleasant day in the hut and it rained in the afternoon - didn't feel quite so guilty about stopping after it began to rain.

Fourth day - rain. Anyway we headed up the East Matakitaki River to unnamed pass. Up and over we went into the headwaters of the D'Urville River. What a pass. Bloody steep and no views - I hear they are excellent… in fine weather. The plan from then was to head over to Thompson Pass and Waiau Pass to Blue Lake. But without visibility, navigation was a problem. We made the mistake of sidling around, following the 1700m contour as recommended by some people in the log book. The other option was to drop down into the river and then walk up the spur to Thompson Pass - as recommended by the route description on the back of the park map. At 4pm we hadn't reached the pass and couldn't see where it was. We were cold, wet and tired so we camped at 1800m under a fly. We happened to find a relatively sheltered spot with very little wind. At about 9pm 2 kea decided to investigate the fly and packs, so there was a mad rush to bring the wet packs into the cramped fly and to cover the shiny tent pegs. The keas left us alone after about 10pm, but returned at 3am. We spent the night banging on the fly trying to frighten then off. At about 7am they disappeared, but returned later with reinforcements!!!

On the fifth day (New Years Eve) we sidled down to the 1500m contour and tried to work out where Thompson pass was. It was still covered in clag, but the rest of the mountains were in blue sky. We ended up taking bearings of the unnamed pass and using the route description on the back of the map to establish the location of Thompson Pass. We headed up a very steep scree slope (as described by the map route description), following footsteps (a good sign) to the top were a huge cairn was waiting and to a great view of the Waiau Pass and valley. Great navigation. We cruised down the upper stretches of the Waiau River to the beginning of Waiau Pass where we stopped for lunch with people we had met in Ada Pass Hut. After lunch we wandered up to Waiau Pass - the easiest pass on the trip with great views - then headed down the massive scree slopes to Lake Constance and around to Blue Lake. Blue Lake Hut was full of 21 people from the Auckland Uni Tramping Club. We didn't see the New Year in as we were too tired from out 10 hr day (I seem to remember it was 11 hours - Bek).

On New Year's Day we travelled down to Sabine Hut. Sore feet were obtained by all.

The rest of the trip was abandoned at that point (up to Angelus, then down Robert Ridge to Bushline Hut and St Arnaud). All the hard work was done and we were totally exhausted. A pit day was in order to restore the inner being.

On the eighth day we caught a water taxi down Lake Rotoroa and then a van back to St Arnaud for ice-cream, coke, beer and steak and chips. A great way to finish the trip.