No hope on Hopeless

No hope on Hopeless

The first taste of true alpine climbing in 2001 lay ahead in the spectacular Travers Range of Nelson Lakes National Park. Five club members ventured south for the Fit trip, while another 30lined up on other Club trips to fill the Travers Valley.

ndrew Chinn and Nicola Noble lay in their sleeping bags, drifting off to sleep as they were protected from the elements by the quiet but large shelter at St Arnaud. Then the rumbling came, the onslaught they had expected as the masses from the Tongue and Meats rolled into town - two vehicles necessary tonight - and the open spaces in the shelter were soon to be a distant memory. A 33-seater bus arrived, followed by a van containing the other three from the Fit trip, Andrew Squires, Glynne Lloyd and Grant Newton. Needless to say, Andrew and Nicola were soon awake.

The drab weather that had been forecast was a reality, but did we care - no! Today we would merely wander up the Travers Valley and then stroll up to Hopeless Hut {or an alpine start on Sunday.

It was definitely not an alpine start to the weekend as we departed St Arnaud at 8.45am. As the rain set in, we determined that breakfast was a memory and that the shelter provided by Lakehead Hut was handy for an early lunch at 10.45am. Packed up and ready to depart an hour later, the Medium group wandered in, their attempt to get to Angelus Hut was certainly history, we thought, as trip leader Jim Kimber started searching for the tea bags.

We headed up the valley and proceeded to meet the Easy group coming the other way. As we gradually gained altitude, the weather deteriorated and the light drizzle soon became white flakes. This was more pleasant than the rain and the still conditions were peaceful as we arrived at the hut at 3.30pm. The two Andrews and Glynne attempted to warm the hut by loading up the pot belly, and warm the bodies by cranking up a brew while Grant and Nic staked out the route for the morning. There had been several tales about the difficulty of picking up the route in the dark, hence our desire to brave the falling snow in favour of the sheltered hut.

There was difficulty in getting the fire going, and as the melted snow lay upon the floor the place continued to feel damp, although the hot drinks kept our spirits high. It may have seemed cold sitting around, so Glynne layered up before crawling into his new pit. He awoke in the middle of the night breaking into a sweat, the pit out-performing his expectations.

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The snow-filled basin above Hopeless Creek (Grant Newton)

Before the sun had even thought about rising, the watch alarms were ringing in the cold, damp hut; five bodies lay, rolled, and pretended they had not heard the alarms. But an alpine start was in order and at 3.30am we tried to crawl out of our sleeping bags; the effort was at half pace though and departure didn't eventuate till 4.30am.

Headlamps were pulled over our hats as we quietly plodded out ofthe hut under a stamT sky, the ground covered with 20cm of fresh dry powder. It was peacefulyet eerie. Ahead though was our bush grovel - a nasty start when the body is still in sleep mode - but necessary to break

Tramping and Mountaineering 2001 /2002 out of the bush-clad valley into the open alpine environment. The bush-bash proved slow and tricky, but the short exploration of the previous afternoon had certainly been worihwhile as route finding was not too bad.

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The going was slow as the snow hindered our progress and promised a considerable time in the deep fresh powder ahead - no hard frozen surface to wander across, just that sinking feeling! It wasn't long before we tried to fit the crampons, but alas it continued to be straight through the snow to the uneven rocks below. Anyway, the metal spikes would provide some greater traction on the steep slopes.

nge trip, uey.

Andrew Squires was having crampon problems; maybe we should have forgotten about these things till the last possible moment, I thought. By this time my battery was flat and the sun still hadn't offered much in the way of light, but it was close to coming up. This was looking very much like a hopeless attempt on Hopeless.

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It was hard yakka heading up Hopeless Creek and the ridge system, legs dredging through the fresh snow and coupled with crampon problems, our chances of a summit were diminishing faster than the sun was rising.

It was a beautiful day as we emerged into the basin beneath Mt Hopeless. Clear skies offered great views and although our turn-around time was already upon us, we pushed through the basin to a notch on the ridge. The promise of some views to Travers and Cupola was too great to turn down, and it would just require a little more commitment to make it back in time for the ferry... would they depart early a second time? The views to Travers and Cupola were worth the effort, the ridge falling away beneath us in a truly vertical manner, leaving us to wonder how one comes up from the other side. Even though the summit was not a possibility, wewere enjoying a great day in this great environment; this was not going to be the last alpine trip of the year!

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Top of Hopeless Creek basin (Grant Newton)

The descent was a little slow as the conditions were tricky, with the uneven roclry surface hidden below the powder made progress slow. We anived back at the hut for lunch, knowing a rapid return was necessary - who cares, we were amongst the snow and it sure beat being at home!

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After packing up, we began the descent and in no time at all we were back at ihe valley floor with snow still lying on the ground here and over 4 hours ofvalley travel ahead of us. We raced down towards Lakehead Hut, defying our legs' protests and enjoyed a snack before our last stint that would be in the dark.

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Tramping and Mountaineering 2007 /2002

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So once again, we pulled the headlamps out of our packs and prepared for a race against the clock to make the Picton ferry.

Andrew and Nicola had the luxury of heading home in their own time, but for Glynne, Andrew and I, the thought of watching the ferry pulling out in front of our eyes kept us plodding. . . or that was until Glynne's legs chose to protest. Yours truly raced ahead to get the van in order, ice scraped from the windscreen and all warmed up, ready to roll. Upon the anival of messers Lloyd and Squires, the van was rolling in less than 30 seconds and we were on our way at7 .45pm.

We negotiated frosty roads and then raced down the Wairau straights to the ferry terminal with 30 seconds to spare; the gangplank lifted as we collapsed into the seats -yep, we had made good use of a fine weather day!