Climbing (Nearly) Tappy

Text taken from the club newsletter.

CLIMBING (NEARLY) TAPPY by STEPHEN HEALEY

Tapuae-o-Uenuku, or Tappy as it is commonly known, can be seen from as far away as parts of Christchurch and Taranaki and is clearly seen from the Wellington coast on a fine day. Standing at 2,885 metres it is the tallest peak outside of the Southern Alps.

Steve, Weimin and I were all returning for another attempt—last year we had a last minute change of destination to Robert Ridge and Angelus instead because of the tail end of a massive storm. The weather ended up being magical for that trip but didn’t look too promising for us this time. Rain was promised Friday and possibly snow Saturday, but the wind seemed to be the biggest obstacle to our success—the forecast was for a couple of days of medium to strong winds with a southerly change Saturday afternoon.

This year was not without its logistical challenges either. I had originally booked flights to and from Wellington for late September which were the original dates on the Alpine Schedule, but this was then changed to early September, requiring a change of flights. Then a storm again got in the way and the trip became early October—so another change of flights.

Thursday night eventually saw us on the Ferry and the trip was under way at last. A calm crossing with plenty of games of 500 to pass the time and John even got me bidding a few times. The drive south from Picton all went smoothly and we had the tents up above the Hodder River by midnight. Ant was already asleep in his ute when we arrived having driven up from Christchurch—he was joining the two Michaels on an ascent of Mt Alarm the same weekend.

We were underway by just after 8 am the next morning and the weather was overcast with a cool breeze discouraging any dips in the river en route. The trip upriver was uneventful until just before we reached the big sidle on the true right when Debbie decided to sit down in the river, so ever the gentleman, Ant went to the rescue only to drop one of his matching walking poles into the river while doing so. The pole floated off down river towards the Awatere until fortunately getting caught by a rock—unfortunately on the other side of the river to where Ant was. I was already on that side and watching events unfold so I dashed off downriver to retrieve it before it took off again.

The grunt up the slip to the top of the sidle track was next and we had split into two groups by this point but as we levelled off at the top of the slip we saw the others at the bottom so we carried on up valley along the sidle track knowing they were just behind us.

In the meantime Michael had gone on ahead up the sidle track and I caught up to him once we got back down into the river valley, and as we progressed up the valley we came upon a couple of fairly large goats in the river bed just ahead of us. They seemed completely unperturbed by us and just wandered along ahead of us for quite a while before eventually heading off uphill. I felt like we were shepherds guiding our flock.

At this point the bad weather which had been threatening all day finally started to arrive and it began to drizzle. I had just a polypro T-shirt on and was starting to feel the cold. I wanted to push on though until I could see the huts before stopping and as soon as they came in sight I stopped and got out my parka enjoying the shelter it provided from the wet breeze. Michael turned up at this point and I asked if he wanted to get his jacket out at the same time—but no he happily continued on up valley in a short sleeved T shirt —these Austrians are a hardy breed apparently. We popped up out of the river and arrived at the huts just after 2:30 pm with the balance of our party arriving not long after.

We got on a brew and spread ourselves out in the hut anticipating the rear-guard arrival at any time. We started wondering where they had got to though until they eventually came into sight around an hour later, having had a bit of a hold up en route. Weimin had been our official counter on the way up and he said we had crossed the river 59 times. This figure could vary wildly depending on your party’s choices of route in the river but represents a fair indication of how many times you will get your feet wet on the trip up to the huts.

Dinner was the next challenge for the day because due to varying reasons both parties found themselves short of a staple for the evening meal. We had a late withdrawal from our party and somehow only part of that person’s food allowance got transferred on leaving us with half the required amount of rice for the Thai tuna curry. Meanwhile the Alarm party had to make spaghetti bolognaise without most of the pasta. Fortunately we both had massive deserts to finish.

Short of sleep, I was off to bed early, but woke up at midnight for a visit to the outhouse and the sky was brilliant. There was a three quarters moon, a starry sky, and no clouds. The wind, however, remained strong and the forecast was for a southerly change with snow showers in the afternoon. Retiring to bed I drifted off again to the sound of the wind occasionally buffeting the hut, wondering what the next day would bring.

We woke around 5 am but procrastinated and eventually left about 6:30 am. We were actually so late getting away we ditched our headlamps as it was bright enough by then to walk without them.

After crossing the slip we dropped back down to the Hodder River and spent some time looking for the best crossing point—eventually mostly deciding on our own separate options to try and get across without getting our feet wet and all with varying levels of success. Some of us had carried in dry boots and I was determined not to undo all that good work by a slip into the river at this point.

ABOVE: Hodder River Photos: STEPHEN HEALEY

BELOW: The Hodder Huts (and goats)

It wasn’t an easy task—Steve sort of straddled a couple of rocks, managing to ease his way across. I jumped the same gap, managing to land successfully. One of our group though slipped and ended up in the water up to his knees, and after some debate this was the end of his climb. Can’t say I blame him. I had dry feet and socks and I, along with some of the others, had very cold toes for most of the climb. The four of us continued on up Staircase Creek and as we popped out over the top onto flatter ground we immediately had to break out the crampons and ice axes. There was a huge amount of snow up here this year. Steve thought it was the most he had ever seen! It was also quite icy—much more so than my previous trip up here and the crampons were definitely required for safe travel today. But this meant good travel up the valley, crisp and firm underfoot and we made good time for a while but as we gained height the wind started to play with us. Although mild at first we were regularly swept by gusts which would see us bent low over our axes holding on tight to avoid being unbalanced by the wind. At this point we were passed by the Mt Alarm group—they had left after us but were determined to try and make their way to the top today as well.

ABOVE: Climbing up to Staircase Creek

BELOW: On the icy slopes to Tappy. Mt Alarm group in distance heading towards their peak

The sky remained remarkably clear and even if it was a beautiful blue sky above the wind was definitely a southerly and very cold and blustery at times. But more worryingly we could both hear and see it above us. It was blowing snow off the tops and I wondered how we would get on when exposed to that on top of the ridgeline.

As we gained height more steeply again on the final climb to the top col we noticed ominous black clouds creeping up from the south over the ridges away to the west of us. These became closer and blacker as we gained in height and soon we could see bands of rain falling on the ranges as well.

We stopped at about 2,700 metres just a few minutes below the col that would pop us up onto the summit ridge above and had a conference. Did we want to continue and get caught in the bad weather now only about half an hour away, or turn and retreat before it got here?

We unanimously decided discretion was the better part of valour and turned dropping much more quickly back down the slope we had just worked so hard to climb. Being only 180 metres and around three quarters of an hour from the summit it was galling to turn and retreat, but we were vindicated in our decision as by the time we had reached flatter ground below the clouds had rolled in and the peaks were out of sight. Within another quarter of an hour of this the first light snowflakes started to fall.

Leaving aside the wind on top which would have been unpleasant, it had now completely clagged in above us and was starting to snow seriously—none of us wanted to be up there in that. We could still see the Alarm trippers— they had started up a gully but apparently found it a little too iced up, so retreated and taken a second gully which popped them out onto a snow slope above. They were crossing this and heading up into the murk when we lost sight of them, probably somewhere around the same height as we were when we turned around.

While descending Steve and I managed a couple of really long bum slides down the now less icy slopes and then had a brilliant walk down the rest of Staircase Creek, with snowflakes falling diagonally across our path as we descended. As the snow arrived the wind had decreased and it was quite magical down here with light snowflakes falling around us.

Reaching the Hodder again Steve took a running jump through the river and crossed without mishap. I managed to find two rocks close enough together that I could leap across again without getting my boots wet and we headed off back down river across the slips. As we pulled into the hut about 12:30 pm we were very glad to be down here and not up higher as the wind had swung round and the snow was now blowing up valley with some force. The snow continued for most of the afternoon. The

Alarm group rolled back sometime after 2 pm—they had got to within about a hundred metres of the top climb- ing most of the way in the lee of the wind. The last part was exposed to the weather though and like us they eventually had made a decision to retreat rather than face the elements any lon- ger. As the afternoon went on there was occa- sional breaks in the weather and by 5 pm there was even the odd ray of sunshine break- ing through and sunny skies away down valley to the north. Most of us spent the time playing six handed 500 until dinner. A full meal of couscous and chorizo sausage, followed by more cards until the lack of sleep caught up with us again and it was off to bed for another early night

The weather changed again overnight and when I got up again around midnight for a comfort break it was snowing heavier than ever and there was snow accumulating on the ground around the hut. The forecast for Sunday was for fine weather though and

‘Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far they can go’. T S Elliot so it turned out. Next morning dawned crisp and clear and we packed up and headed off down river on what would have been a very good day to be standing on the summit. Special thanks to Steve Austin for again leading this trip and taking Debbie Buck, Weimin Ren, John Hickey and me along for the ride.