Beyond Arawhata

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Beyond Arawhata Jonathan Kennett Scrambling around at the base ofa massive bluff, thousands of metres deep, millions of years old. The first giant step in the climb to Arawhata Saddle is usually covered in snow and is seldom a cause for concern. Yet on day two of our summer trip, we scoured weathered schist for a safe way up and seriously considered turning back. fter almost an hour of searching, the Wary of the accumulating cloud, we broke camp venerable mountain goat, Allen Higgins, early the next morning and quickly climbed a ridge cautiously proposed a route and consciously between the Snow White and Snowball glaciers to or not catalysed a synchronised style of teamwork stop for lunch at Whitbourne Saddle. Conditions that served us brilliantly for the next 8 days. Helping were good for fast travel, but a slab of young snow each other with packs up a steep chimney and then sat uneasily on much older, harder snow. An setting up a fixed rope across an exposed sloping avalanche from such conditions might not be large ledge, we carefully climbed the most difficult step en but could easily sweep a person over a cliff or into a route to Arawhata Saddle. crevasse. We rested on the Main Divide, feeling relieved and After lunch we roped up and started sidling around tired. Time to refuel and marvel at the stunning vista the head of the Whitbourne Glacier. Whump. Barely before leaving the Matukituki Valley behind and a hundred metres from leading off, a slab settled descending into the head of the legendary Arawhata beneath my feet. Ahurriedly dug snow pit confirmed Valley. From the saddle it was downhill all the way that the slab was still thin - less than a hand-span to. Arawhata Bivvy, a boulder the size of The Beehive, deep. We plugged on, and the cloud swirled lower perched right on the edge of a tumbling mountain and lower as struggled to memorise a route through river. It used to sleep twenty under one side until a the diced névé. Eventually the veil descended. Cloud mighty chunk fell off, but there was still plenty of and snow merged; visibility became indefinable. I space for our group of six. looked back along the rope and could still see The following two days, we headed down-valley, Bronnie clearly, followed by the foggy shape of often following vague deer trails through magnificent Andrew. Further back on a second rope, Jo, Sue and rainforest, before breaking out on to the vast Allen Higgins were out of sight. Williamson Flat. During thel hunting boom of the 70s, Knowing from this that I could see enough to avoid this sea of tussock was Westland' S wilderness walking straight into a slot, we continued, pausing equivalent of Heathrow Airport with thousands of regularly to check the compass and altimeter as the deer being flown out of the now overgrown airstrip. cloud swirled silently around us tonal shapes, Day four was our scheduled rest day, but Sue appearing and disappearing, constantly changing as Higgins talked us into walking half a day to the flats. if caught in a massive, slow motion lava lamp. And then, after lunch she pointed out how annoying While resting in a giant cirque, the cloud the sandflies were, SO for our afternoon off, we unexpectedly lifted, allowing us to see our exact climbed out of the valley until there were no more destination. We climbed straight down the slope, sandflies. Beyond the bushline, we found the most bumbling over a few crevasses and finally glissading magical campsite I've ever seen. to a rocky campsite beside a tongue of snow. Above Beside the tents, beside the tarn, beside the kea the far side of the glacier, sun soaked slopes corroded hiding among tussock on a knoll, the scene away, each avalanche sending a quarry of snow and plummeted into the hanging Arawhata Valley and ice to the valley floor far below. swept across the Williamson Flat, flanked by ancient The sluggish dawn of a new millennium! Neither rainforest, guarded by a broken strata of towering the hills, the trees nor the kea seemed to notice this cliffs, capped with a mix of gnarly bush, alpine herb- monumental occasion. Feeling it should be marked fields and tussock that led to a line of snowy somehow, I performed a quick Scottish jig around mountains hiding the Olivine Ice Plateau. Above, the campsite naked (too quick for any witnesses). twilight streamed through voluminous clouds, Atl breakfast time, a little drizzle easily convinced us diffusing the sacred view. that a true rest day was finally in order. Tramping and Mountaineering 2000

Making slowj progress down the Arawhata River Andrew. McLellan A very strange thing happened the next morning; Moir's Guide has recently been updated and we stumbled onto the Dart Track and met people for clearly states "The crossing should be avoided in wet the first time in a week. How odd. And then a large and windy conditions, especially when any fresh hut. Even odder. snow is on the route. The current epidemic of overly Obviously, we weren't ready for flush toilets and cautious signs in the outdoors has left many people Frenchi hut wardens. Without delay, our smelly troupe sceptical of warnings like this, but fresh snow would hurried on and up to Cascade Saddle for another definitely conceal all foot holds and offer no safe camp in the peaceful solitude of the heavens. purchase. On the steep rocky terrain ahead, the Unfortunately, upon arrival, theheavensl broke. They stakes were high and the odds far from good. broke from the south, and as the rain plummeted SO We turned our backs on the Matukituki and faced did the temperature. Wer raced the storm to secure the the long trudge down the Dart Valley to Daleys Flat. tents andhunkered down fort the night. On the well-trodden Rees-Dart Track there was lam: "The Tent!" yelled Bronnie. "The tent?" plenty of timet to mull over our original plan. But each repeated Jonathan. I reached up to discover that, timel I tried to daydream a safe way down the snowladen with snow, it had sagged to within a foot of covered bluffs in my mind's S eye, it always ended in my face. Hitting the snow off the roof and away from disaster. the sides seemed to work, SO that's S what we did That night we heard over the mountain radio that every hour till dawn. others had fared much worse. On the Olivine Ice When light finally reached our camp, now mostly Plateau, where Harry Smith was camping, three out cocooned with soft snow, the storm abated, and we of five tents had been demolished by the storm and discussed plans. The possibilities were tossed from the occupants forced to build snow caves. As they tent to tent complete the crossing to the Matukituki relayed overdue messages through the radio base in (only a few hours away), or retreat down the Dart Christchurch we realised just how fortunate we had Valleyto Glenorchy (al long trudge to a roadend over been. Sometimes nature just crosses options off your 100 km from our parked cars). list, and there's nothing you can do but accept it. Tramping and Mountaineering 2000