Olivines, Christmas, 1966-67

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OLIVINES, CHRISTMAS, 1966-67 "Come follow me on my pilgrimage That night, with the snow-cave not to the Olivines. There shalt be great finished, there was only enough room suffering and much hardship. Thou shalt for three to fight for room in it while be made exceedingly wet and miserable. the others slept in a tent pitched on a For verily I say unto you, such enjoy- handy patch of rock. The next day was ment is but the fortune of all keen a rest day, conveniently arranged for Tongue and Meats." building the snow-cave (which as everyone knows is a nice easy job for a rest And so it began-first on the bus to day). Two keen types were permitted to Queenstown, a rough Lake Wakatipu, have a go at a rock pinnacle around and Val Law, all preparing us amply the other side of Intervention. for the bluffs in the Dart below the Beans Burn. Some drunken throwing of After the rest day several groups messages in bottles into the Dart, from the party were found clambering multiple attempts to get lost and a up and down some of the more interestspelaeological expedition to the Beans ing (the higher and easier) peaks sur- Burn caves preceded the crossing of rounding the plateau, all eventually ar- Fohn Saddle after which the descent riving at the far side of it at about was made to the Olivine ledge. four-thirty, thinking that they had to just walk across the plateau to the ice- Once having gained the end of the cave. Distances are in this someone deceptive part ledge, said that to get down to of the world and after a hell of a the river, one should sidle and slog, descend six hot yokels arrived at the cave hot at the mouth of the Termine Stream. and thirsty just in time for a nice cold Naturally instinct took us through whiteout. moraine boulders to the river with very little sidling. However, good going on the Another rest day. While most rested, true left bank through thin bush and Heath Ryrie busied himself guiding three-foot wide deer trail took us water down bits of string for his waterrapidly to the Olivine flats. After a stop works. The following day, four memat the Forgotten River Gorge, we bers clambered around the Barrier picked up the sidle track to the exten- Glacier and assorted bumps in that sive Forgotten River Flats, whence vicinity before arriving back to find the came the second best attempt to get snow-cave on its last legs. A forced lost. Two stalwart navigators found retreat was in order. The combination good travelling from a stream five min- of a septic ankle on one member of utes from the Forgotten Flats. The other the party, the second bad day of the four found rough going from that same trip and a melted snow cave collectively clearing two and a half hours from the wrote out Solution Co. The Olivine Flats flats. After some anxiety and many provided a grateful change of scenery pessimistic theories the party joined up and climate to the five days spent living again at the head of the Forgotten in a refrigerator. (Unfortunately, this River. meant that the trip's exhibitionist was no longer able to drop any more A dismal prohecy had nearly led to into the schrund above the snow things cave a search of the Gorge for the bodies of -four items, including his camera, were the others. The attempt to get up to all he could manage.) Forgotten Col was nearly as bad as the previous performance. Three arrived on The decision was then made to go the Col, collected the air-drop and be- down to the Pyke Valley via the Olivine gan the snow cave. The rest of the party River gorge. This decision eventually eventually arrived three hours later. proved to be the best attempt to get lost Sleeping bag covers full of snow grass of the whole trip. The diary entry reads hindered the climb around bluffs. After "7.45, left Olivine Flats; 4.30 arrived carrying the stuff up very steep snow- Olivine Flats." This devastating progress grass slopes, around the ledges, rock- was achieved by climbing for four hours fall, and wet slabs of the cirque, it had to to the edge of the bushline and not being be ignominiouly ditched just before the able to find a way down. Two hours ice-fall leading to the plateau. were spent getting tangled in bush lawyer and neck-high beech trees. After Moraine Creek was the next objecabout six hours without water the situa- tive. However, after seeing the climb up tion began to appear a little less amus- to the hut we quite simply piked out and ing. One hardy adventurer swore by set off to do the high level sidle from many different gods that the way down Howden through Harris Saddle to the lay in a direct line between him and Route-Burn. A day was spent at Lake Lake Wilmot. This idea was treated with Mackenzie hut to climb Ocean Peak. the contempt it deserved by the others, who swore by many other gods that Here a steam pudding was made by there was a route farther down-and the trip's official gourmet (also the exwater, which was more to the point. The hibitionist). Unfortunately he had never way to the Pyke did in fact turn out seen carbide powder. Now in that hut to be farther down-two thousand feet there was a baking powder tin full of farther down-easy going on a good carbide powder. Thinking the stuff to be track. Once back at a camp site just baking powder, he mixed some into the above the Olivine Flats a simultaneous dough and the pudding rose beautifully. brew made Moir seem tolerable again. Fortunately someone suggested that the Our second attempt to reach the Pyke baking powder had gone off. A quick Valley was preceded by a brew of por- look and a fearfully aggitated scream ridge as bad as the master could make. gave warning just as the pudding was From the previous day the Pyke Valley about to be consumed. "Well, I didn't seemed a salubrious place. However, put much in", replied the embarrassed once down there, these ideas were soon cook. shattered by the curse of hairy legsthick undergrowth, bush lawyer and The crossing of Harris Saddle was other damnable native flora. At the hour reminiscent of the Tararuas. We were of twelve noon or there abouts, the able to sit in the pouring rain getting party sank to their knees about fifty cold and wet for a change. This was yards from the river. With the heat such our only really bad day. After arrival as it was, 15 to 20 minutes went by be- at the Route-Burn huts at about 10.30 fore any attempt was made to reach it. a.m. it immediately began to show signs Some three and a half to four hours of clearing. and several attempts to thumb a ride in Then arrived the illustrious passing jet boats later, it finally became son's Bay Somehow Jackcool enough to carry on to Lake Alatrip. this trip had baster. A cloud of aggressive sandflies acquired a bearded physicist who immoved us out next, in time to reach the exercises. pressed everyone with his photographic Holyford before the heat got us again. During a five minute period Our first contact with civilisation was -three shots of a door, three of Roger made at the Lower Pyke hut with two Foley looking out of a window, and two dumbly lethargic deer shooters and one of a tree stump-easily confirmed a rather good looking girl. After sizing story of two hundred and forty slides them up we moved to a convenient in three days. siesta site and again collapsed from the The final was heat for two to three hours. Here Dave around the night fire. spent singing Ryrie left us and headed out to the camp The find of the Holyford motor camp. Upon arrival at century: Billy J. Cronin gave us his Hidden Falls hut our salami, which was splendid rendition of "The Spinning having trouble with the weather (like Wheel" to the accompaniment of helpthe rest of us), was hung in one of the less laughter. two bunk rooms while we slept in the Eventually the other. Now later that same evening a to be transported by two parties arrived bus party of trampers arrived and were duly service Harry Bryant's ushered to their quarters. Next morning "Earnslaw" to Kinlock and then by the the salami could not be found. to Queenstown. That day, a rest day, saw one mem- leader; Party Dave members: Norm Clarkson, ber of the party standing at the door Cronin, Ryrie, co-leader; Bill with wood in his arms. The door was Clive Bolt. Murray Hall, Roger Foley, opened by another member holding a billy of cold tea. Enter one wet tramper. Clive Bolt.