Hopelessly Head over Heels for Hopeless

Text taken from the club newsletter.

HOPELESSLY HEAD OVER HEELS FOR HOPELESS by NICK HORRELL with ELISABET HESVIK and GARETH ROBINSON

Who names a mountain ‘Hopeless’? By all accounts, ‘an early survey party with a poor attitude’! Tree days before our ferry lef Wellington, I carried out my standard ritual of emailing all the plans to my dad under the title ‘Hopeless trip plan’. He usually replies with ‘Tanks Son, be safe out there, or encouraging words to that effect. Tis time, however, he phoned me. ‘Nick why do you think this trip plan is hopeless?’ For a second he thought I’d already decided my plan was rubbish…

Which made this whole trip all the more enticing. Tis is a technical but achievable peak to climb hence why it’s a popular choice for post-AIC (Alpine Instruction Courses—the traditional next step afer Snowcraf). We opted to attempt it from the south, via the grade 3 couloir route, and then descend the SW ridge. Tis was both for the fact that it’s said to be a very fun route, and that we wanted as much time in the shade as possible to increase our chances of firmer snow conditions.

We again opted for the water taxi across Lake Rotoiti, just as we did with Mt Travers and Kehu Peak earlier this year. Given the walk to the hut is almost 20 km even from Coldwater Hut, we were not keen to use up more time and energy doing the extra three hours or so from the Mt Robert road end. Hamish and Lynne run a slick operation and you can charter a boat for around $100 each way.

Te track to Cupola Hut takes you along a good chunk of the Travers-Sabine Circuit—this valley is far and away my favourite tramp. It’s an easy-going trail which weaves deeper and deeper into the park, until you reach the well-deserved break spot at John Tait Hut. Tis hut sits precariously on the edge of a well-worn avalanche path, and it’s evident by the huge scar up the hillside above it. Shortly afer the hut lies the turn off up the Cupola Creek valley, where the track gets progressively steeper and steeper until Mt Hopeless erupts into view directly ahead. Te trail veers slightly off the marked one on the topos where it switches back multiple times before finally revealing the small and cosy white Cupola Hut perched on the edge of the hill. I instantly fell in love with it—a traditional small eight-bunk hut with a wood-burner, and views to kill for. In fact, it’s my new favourite hut based on location alone. Well worth the tramp there to soak in the panorama even if you don’t go any further up.

Here we met a fellow tramper called Simon who was on an extended break from work taking in the sights of the South Island. We spent the remainder of the daylight sitting together on the grassy knoll outside absorbing the impressive south side of Mt Hopeless and it’s shark- toothed ridge lines falling away from every side of its snowy peak. Te couloir up its right side is striking, and now the only glaciated part of the park lef (it remains iced over all year around). We set off on our summit bid the next morning at 0600, afer another fantastic WTMC recipe and an even better night’s sleep. Simon was up and out awaiting the sunrise so waved us off on our way. A mere 30 metre walk through the woods above the hut brings you to the tree line, and from there it’s a pretty well-worn trail across the alpine tussock and rock. A couple of small stream crossings and you arrive at a very fun section of huge boulder hopping, before beginning the steepish climb up to the scrub at about 1,700 m to where the snow started.

We were very happy to find the snow firm underfoot and the cramponing started off perfectly. For about 15 minutes. We were very quickly thrust into sunlight and the slightly crunchy surface steadily degraded into post-holing—that horrible kind where you think it will hold you, only to pop and swallow up your foot just as you move your weight onto it. We swapped leaders regularly and trudged our way along the easy slopes towards Hopeless. As we got to the last rise before the mountain proper, we came across a huge bowl which forced us to lose a lot of well-earned altitude. Tere was a fair amount of loose, wet avalanche debris around here; it wasn’t lost on us that we were very fortunate to be walking in the shade nice and early. I wouldn’t want to be there at midday.

We arrived at the base of the couloir (a steep, narrow gully on a mountainside) at just afer 0900, where we found a flat spot to steel ourselves for the technical climbing to begin. Te couloir is deceptive—from the bottom it appears simple and inviting, but it’s always worth remembering that couloirs ofen steepen towards the top, and are a confined space which means that any weakness in the snow has only one way to go. Terefore it’s important these are always considered only in the right conditions. Luckily for us, the snow was packed and a joy to crampon up. Te first and largest part of it is relatively straightforward—with the right technique you can happily plod up without needing to get a rope out, though ensure all your team are confident with sustained front pointing and exposure before doing so. Tere were a handful of sun-drenched cornices (overhanging snow usually found on ridge lines) which sat precariously above us but they never suggested any trouble as it was still very early in the day. We did however get our fair share of ice dusting which was pouring off from various angles and causing a bit of frustration when trying to enjoy the freedom of the climbing.

Afer about 45 minutes of sustained climbing we arrived at the crux of the route where a small chute ascends up to the lef at the head of the couloir. We nestled here behind the safety of a rock face to protect us from any falling ice and rock, and built a decent anchor. Here we got the first play on our new walkie talkies which we decided to buy afer ropes got stuck when we did the Pinnacle Ridge on Ruapehu a couple of months ago. In Gareth’s own words, they turned out to be a ‘game changer’. Gareth led the first running pitch up the steep chute, even managing to place an ice screw near the top (only to be burying snow stakes in sof snow just 30 metres later).

At the top of this chute you emerge into the sunlight and onto easier ground, where the route meets the big snow basin on the Hopeless Creek route. From here I led us up towards the summit direct, resisting the temptation to traverse out further north and create a bigger detour. Tis meant one single section of about four metres of vertical rock which was really exciting. I found an old sling here which presumably had been used as an abseil point a very long time ago. Getting over the rock face meant that with just one short pitch we could top out onto the summit ridge in one of the only places that didn’t have a huge cornice jutting out. Glimpsing the view as you pop your head over onto the ridge was breath-taking; the whole park reveals itself—both lakes spread out to the north, the full Kaikoura Range behind you to the east, the full summit ridge of Hopeless, with Cupola, Travers, Kehu, Franklin, McKay and Paske, all fighting for prominence on the skyline to the south.

Because of the loose snow and huge cornices around us, we opted to stay on the rope and I brought us all over for a lunch stop at a standing belay on the highest spot of the ridge at 1300 hours. According to the map it wasn’t the geographical summit (we tagged that on our way down), but on this occasion it was the highest point based on the snow fall, which was quite interesting. I can’t say I’ve ever enjoyed lunch from such a breath-taking spot.

I remember the first time I saw Mt Hopeless which was on a club trip to Angelus Peak back in 2016. Te sight of it was just enthralling, and it stuck in my mind given I was in my formative stages of becoming obsessed with mountaineering. I saw it again from the summits of Travers and Kehu back in January 2018 and the attraction just grew stronger. So to finally be at the top and stare back at all those places I had previously stood was quite special. Afer Gareth and Elisabet had commenced climbing and I had broken down the anchor, I took a few moments at the top to reflect on the previous two years of hard work and training to get me here. Society seems to want to drag us along kicking and screaming much of the time—we’re getting worse and worse at stopping and giving ourselves a break and credit for our achievements instead of constantly chasing the next goal. I am the champion of this and it does me no good. Being in the mountains, where ofen your only concern is the simple needs and raw instincts of staying safe, I can truly stand still, even if only for fleeting moments. Tat spot on the summit of Mt Hopeless will always hold a special place in my memory.

Our descent was to be via the South West Ridge, meaning a complete traverse of the summit ridge. It would turn out to be a really exciting route down the mountain. We stuck to the west of the ridge, turning a few rocks along the way. Tis was followed by some straightforward down climbing as the slope descended steeper. Afer about an hour I reached the bluff which dominates the SW ridge skyline. Te slope continues to steepen until you move into rocky terrain and it essentially drops off into a near vertical cliff. I made sure to place extra protection here—when down climbing on lead the roles are reversed—the leader is essentially supported by a top rope from above, whereas the last person has to follow the route as if they were down climbing a lead pitch with no rope from above to stop a fall. We found a great little bunker in the rock to take a break, with an ideally placed bollard to sling. We knew to expect some abseils so were prepared with long slings. We picked a route and took two full 60 metre abseils using two ropes to get to the next section of the ridge. I would question the Climb NZ database for calling this route a Grade 2 for the ascent; it certainly felt as technical, if not more so, than the couloir route up. Either way if you ever plan to climb this route, bring a rope and trad rack. And if you plan to descend it, bring a second rope for the abseil. We were loathe to have to carry another rope for the whole trip, but were so glad we had it for those few hours.

From there the ropes came off as it was a simple scramble along the rest of the ridge. It was awesome to look back on the route we’d descended; only then do you realise the sheer scale of it all. Te North West Face of Hopeless is utterly massive—if the rock was solid enough it would make an amazing summer rock route (and if it was easier to get to the start). We very quickly found an inviting little snow chute which took us all the way back down into the basin we had started at earlier in the day, once again safely hidden away from the heat of the sun. Had the sun been on this snow we wouldn’t have descended this way, but it was in perfect condition to allow us to heel plunge all but the most steep sections of it. We had hoped to continue further along the ridge to a nice escape near point 1989, however we couldn’t see the apparent ledges that could be used along the west side and from where we stood it looked quite full on. Given it was already 1700 hours we weren’t keen on spending another 2-3 hours traversing that way on a rope.

Te walk back across the easier slopes to the hut didn’t take as long as I had anticipated. Yes we were tired, but the snow had started firming up again by the time we got there which made all the difference. I think perhaps the incentive of a warm hut spurred us all on. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again—as amazing as a successful summit feels, nothing beats the feeling of arriving safely back at the hut! We arrived just afer 1900 hours, some 13 hours afer setting off, to great celebration. As tired as we were, the banter and laughs were at full volume all evening. We had the hut to ourselves and the view of our route outside the windows of the hut was an incredible way to reflect on the day’s climbing. We had hoped to get back early enough to decamp down to John Tait Hut, but I’m glad we didn’t as Cupola Hut is a wonderful place and we savoured every minute of it.

Te three of us were on the trail by 0800 hours the next morning, all smiles and no energy. Te walk down was made that much nicer by the sound of wildlife all around us and the cool southerly breeze counteracting the heat of the sun. We definitely faded in the last few kilometres, and so we actually arrived with just minutes to spare for our pre-booked boat pick up at 1400 hours. Arriving back in St Arnaud was a real shock to the system—the dock and surrounding beach were absolutely packed with people and activity, and the weather was easily in the twenties. Anyone who has done a hard tramp or climb before will relate when I say that the ‘cotton cache’ of clothing and the cafe food and flat white was what I imagine winning the lottery would feel like—and boy did we win the lottery that afernoon.