Easter '84 - Malte Brun, South Face

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Easter '84 - Malte Brun, South Face Greg Aimer Mist billowed around the hut had overtaken Cook and Tasman, as I stepped out into the dark. leaving the day clear and blue. Small coals glimmered distantly through the veil and half a moon After a two-pitch traverse leading glowered just below a nearby over small frozen gullies, the hill. It's going to be okay, I summit snowfields led the way thought. to the top. Nervousness was gone. I had passed my previous The trudge up to Malte Brun Pass high point and passed the hardest became hot and sweaty as I climbed parts of the climb. above the mist, torch back in the pack as the moon rose. I was The summit snowfields were less under the face at 6.30 am but steep but seemed to take longer darkness still prevailed. Time than I had expected. The snow to tog up overtrou, jacket, was often ice and my calves began helmet, harness = decked up to to tire. Still, the day was the nines but it was pretty chilly young. Beckoning, the top of last time. the west ridge meandered up and I was peering down a couloir Two months earlier I had tried into the glacier on the other the same climb with a friend side of the peak. I looked but we had turned back when my at my watch for the first time hammer had broken just above since the bottom 2% hours up the steep zag pitch and hers the face only 500m - slow for had then fallen in two as we the Tararuas. prepared to descend. My head buzzed with the sudden This time I was alone. altitude change over 7000 feet in 7 hours. The summit ridge A large bergschrund split the glistened above. Feet straddling face from the glacier. The schrund each side of the ridge, I eagerly was fairly imposing - overhanging made the top. The cloud banked with a long drop into darkness. in the valleys below and kept Out to the side a fragile bridge the ski-planes on the ground. led to a steep icy step and then an A perfect day to be on a mountain. awkward sidle into some crumbly I felt detached and unbelieving. rock with crampons scratching at A self-timed photo later developed small holds, with the open schrund into a pair of legs striding directly below. carefully back to pose. Being back into the standard climb was a relief as the angle wasn't too bad and the snow well frozen. The fangs cut into water ice as I climbed into the zig part of the route and away from the glacier. The crux of the climb soon lay leftward from an amphitheatre encircled by arching rock walls. Steep water ice lay threatening, dull and unavoidable above me. I scratched a stance, half a boot width, taking several blows to form, beat in a snarg and fixed a doubled rope through a krab to my waist. Tied loosely to the mountain I continued on, beating hard into the ice to gain penetration for my ice axes. Over the steep ice, saddling a powder covered spur, I pulled the rope through and took in the view. Relax. The direct route through the bluffs below ended up at my stance Mt Cook Lily Jack McConchie and looked a lot more difficult than my route. The sunrise

I looked at the various routes points - the rotten rock was devoid down and was forced into a nervous of good cracks so I scratched pee. I hadn't thought of getting desperately deeper into the rotten down. Fyfes said Hugh Logan. ice by the gully walls for cracks I retreated back down to the below the surface. After some top of the couloir and peered last nervous moments waiting down. The easy angles gave for rocks to hurtle past, I escaped way to steeper country further the couloir and descended down down but it was out of sight. a ramp to two large slots. From a careful plod, I reversed After a quick hurtle and a shaky into down climbing. Soft slush bollard abseil I slid onto the covered bloody hard ice - plenty Bonney and tail-high headed for of anxious moments. Large vommits home, back just in time to be of rock and ice chundered down reported missing on the radio a beaten track in the middle sched. of the gully. The gully became a steep and dangerous nightmare. I began searching for abseil