Still Ignorant

Returning from touring at Fox Peak I got a text inquiring if I wanted go touring with clay. I said I was making dinner and he was welcome to come and I would consider it. He came over, I made taters, honey carrots, and pork chop, and we discussed the plan. I couldn't decide if I wanted to go rerent touring gear or not but was definitely on board.

Morning came, I took it rather relaxed, decided to not rerent gear and save the money and hassle of lugging it along. Moseyed out to yaldhurst road, after grabbing some bananas at the store, and met up with a german who was joining us before catching a ride out. Four rides and a pie later we made the trail. the last ride was a from a young couple oh holiday from Sydney and really excited to be exploring the south island, heading to fox glacier at the moment they were. Clay and Chelsea had passed us so we were all assembled at the Baly Spur Trail head and had arrived about the same time too!

We started out - HOW! - 6 km and 530 some meters of elevation later we arrived at the Top Hut. The treck up took a bit more than the 2 hour suggested time on account of the other carrying ski gear. We moved up through forest, yes it had moss but it wasn't so impressive in this area. The trees were rather thickly grown with old mans beard which blocks a lot of light and lends a sorta supressed mood, while the north facing aspect means hot dry slopes. We broke out along the ridge line, out of the manuka bush, to see down the steep valley side on our left. Down, on scree, on dirt, past some bush, and at the bottom a roaring river aptly named Power Stream. We continued up the trail that had at times been used as a stream and contained mud and rounded stones and pebbles. We passes out of the manuka bush and into beech trees laden with more old man's beard. The trees opened occasionally into nice sloping meadows. One flatter one contained numerous pretty tairns: lush colors dampened by winter frosts giving way to beautiful frozen water with outstretched spider fingers. At last we saw snow and began to have hope that the effort would bear fruit. Coming out of the forest and crossing the meadow to Top Hut we looked back out at the valley below.

Ditching our things we made a quick dash further up the ridge line to find some lines for the next day. Up through a last bit of forest, then just tussock and patches of snow. More scree began to appear as our path followed the ridge up. We looked down the first rocky colouirs with much skepticism and kept

on up tell we could look up valley along the ridge to more consistent snow. We hoped the sunny summit at right would hold a nice bowl beneath it and set that as our prsective destination for the next day. We then set to doing abit of beacon practice. As the sun went down the clouds built up a bit and as we began to go down we got a some fresh snow! an exciting prospect as long as the weather droped the snow and cleared out by morning.

Sunrise. After a terrible time trying to light the fire, even after using the MSR stove right under the wood, we at least had embers enough to make a a baked apple. We all had our separate meals and then swapped treats and liquors as we played cards before bed. Wet, nearly frozen shoes deteed us from going outside, but when we did the land was lit by full moon light filtering through the clouds. No lights were needed to navigate around the hut. When we did venture forth from the hut that night we realized how effective our

uninspiring ember fire was at heating the hut, though I was able to cope with the cold night in just my longjohns. Morning came, and with it we dashed to see the sunrise as it filtered over mountains, through valleys, into trees, over grasses, and trapped and scattered in the moss and old man's beard. ah, what light softly warmed the rocks and relieved them of their dew. After our separate brekis, my copious amounts of musli and pear, we saddled up and headed out.

This attack on the ridge was accompanied by the recreational snowcraft gear we hoped to make use of and the rescue equipment we hoped not to. Starting in tussock and looking ridiculous with skis etc. we ascended the gentel lower elevations before finding the pathches of snow that doted the right slope while the left, northern, slopes had melted away.

Uncertain how long it would take us to reach our

desired bowl and not knowing if the slopes would prove safe enough to ski, we trode onwards. Daniel bootpacking in scarpas, decided to put on his skins and move over snow patches and tussocks. Even by passed some rocks by taking some traverses. We however stayed on the ridge and did some class three scrambling to get past some of the more rocky summits. Chelsea had some problems as her board was strapped laterally across her back, but taking it relaxed and easy we made it.

Yes some 3 ish hours later we made the prospected bowl, and while another hopefull was in sight this one seemed stable and the effort of making the next one did not appeal to most. After testing the slope a bit they set out to ski the bowl while I went on to the summit above (1700m). looking back I saw them shredding some turns and was a wee bit jealous. I decided to strap on my crampons at this stage, so I found a nice rock and a good view of the destination I ideally wanted to reach: a basin with a few lakes, at about 1500m, one ridge north west and accross Jordan saddle. But reaching the saddle involves a traverse at 1700m and I wasn't going to do that alone with my ignorant knowledge of snow conditions.

Jordan saddle is just below center saddle.

So I pushed on to the peak at 1875, from there I could clearly see the saddle and the long convex ridge down to it, and my vale looked far away. Great summit though. really nice and round. Sweet powdery snow, and falling away towards power stream were gentle rolling slopes in a sweet basin. Would a been some sick skiing had the others made it. I set off again for the high summit. For this I had to take care to stay back from the cornices on my left, while the right sometimes had some deep drifted snow, not more than 30cm. Had to gingerly get my self across some obstructing rock outcrops, one of which had some sweet frost built up indicating southern prevailing winds.

This summit at 1907 was more of a peak, though unnamed and so I dub it Mt Still Ignorent, but still rounded and frustating in that you walk around trying to decide where the highest point is. But it wasn't windy! I sat up there and enjoyed some cherry pie and the view, watching the clouds come and go about the peaks, coalescing again after being ripped asunder by the jagged peaks around. The valley revealed behind the summit was deeper and steeper than the main wamariki valley that bealy spur juts into. At the bottom a river weaves it's way back and forth in fluvial patterns, steep forested sides then give way to rocky crags and many rockslides. The head waters are hidden but seem to stem from a series of colouirs on a triangular peak that just flattens out at the top, as if flattened with a hammer. The south ridge looks easy and leads down to the just described river, while beyond the mountains fade, though the canterbury plains are not visible, just fewer snow capped peaks. I can see along a east ridge to the summit at 1750 (the diagonal sun strips in a photo by paragraph four are directly below this summit while 1907 is the highest visible point) and past as it continues down parallel to bealy spur, following the flux of power stream down the valley below. I can see the peak that later is pictured so beautifully illuminated. The bowl containing my friends and I hope the curving tracks of their enlivening skiturns is hidden by a bend in the ridge I ascended. The north west is completely dominated by ever higher southern alps, up to arthur's pass. ridges, peaks, snow, clouds. of white, black, grey, sky of blue. the rocks, scree, crags, cornices, suncrusts, powder, drifts, wisps, fogs, rays of sun and paths of slushy avalanches. on and on, I did not want to leave. not while I stood there in the glory of sun, no wind, even when a cloud came and hid my own peak from me I waited a moment and was again captured and in awe by all around. Kate, I'll climb cook. For me, but with you in mind because you opened my mind to the possibility.

In time I passed on, delayered, nocked the ice off my crampons, pulled my hat over my eyes. Striking my ice axe into the snow I began the descent, over the crusts, through the powder, Ignorant. Always doubting the pack, but trusting that solid layer I had probed and examined coming up. But in awe! ever amazed and so happy, down the ridges, past the light, looking in my beautiful basin that was magnitudes more inviting than that which clay, Chelsea and daniel were skiing below (and any basin I have considered dropping into in colorado). At 1875 I stoped at the summit again to take out my kite. As I had guessed the wind was too erratic coming up the basin and I didnt have room enough on the summit to let out all the line. I had some fun coaxing it up and through a few loops, but then called it good and felt the urge to make sure things were tiptop with the others. Descending the rocky parts with crampons was less fun, though only because I am unfamiliar with how to place my weight on crampons. all comes with practice.

My mates were fine. oh I acctually took another break to sketch the view to the north west. But then I found my mates fine, and took out my shovel to bee line down through their tracks in the basin. Then hiking up to the peak they had settled on in satisfaction. Great timing really, they just finished what they considered their last run, so while chelsea and I trudged along the ridge back down, daniel and clay kept the skins on and led the way, sometimes traversing below low summits. Back at the class 3 scrambling we all packed it up. But those ski folks soon had it all back on their feet and got a few last turns while my lousy shovel plowed into the snow and

I was forced to walk. The sun was setting and the light marveous. I was in no rush and stopped often to linger with the majestic views, to soak the sun, to warm my feet in the radiating warm rock. As I said to the others later, "oh my feet have been cold, wet, numb, frozen, and frozen." I was confused on one aspect though, the moon was uspposed to be up for about 14 hours that night, and that morning had set by sunrise. I expected the moon to be up by 430 at the latest. but it was getting on 5 and beyond and still no moon, so I lingered more to find the moon and to let the sun dip lower in the sky as the Mountains vainly tried to hold on to it's lifegiving light.

That night we were smarter. As I languidly made my descent and the others split ahead, I gathered dry grasses from the tussock, along with twigs and old mans beard from dead branches. The others gathered some fallen branches and dryer wood (the box of dry wood in the hut was mislabeled). But back at the hut we were put off from fire building a scattered to a meadow below. The moon was rising. While the sun had passed from view and the sky shifted through blues, oranges, purples ahhhh. Daniel and I briefly discussed ravensburg and things german, laying on the moss/tussock of the meadow (very comfy). The moon rose red above and we recalled and shared stories of moonlight adventures.

The red of moon faded and I contmeplated sleeping under the skies, but had no pad or tarp. Back to the hut we assembled and I built a successfull fire, Teepee style with the smaller things and then stacking like a log house or layers of checkerboards to dry and bake the larger wood. we had wonderful emberes for baked apples, then I beat clay at baggemon, and closed the evening by reading letters from high latitudes aloud.

I slept in my bag and awoke refreshed in the morning. I though I would wait for others to stir before getting up, but realized I had to go to the batheroom real bad. Plus the sun was up so I got up to catch a bit of the end of sunrise. I went down to the meadow and enjoyed the view down the valley to the low mountains beyond. I examined the frost on the grasses, played with dead tree branches and roots. I sat on a cold rock and enjoyed a pair of tui flying about, calling to eachother as the dove past and then winged back around to circle a bit before driving past the meadow again. Many birdcalls hung in the air. I moved through the beech trees, noting the moss and the undergrowth. The hut was still full of sleeping bodies so I quietly removed my breki. Then moved to the tussock to sit on grass, stretch my feet out on the moss, make some food and do some sketching and writing. Peaceful quiet contemplation.

I returned to the hut as te others finished breaking their fast. We collected our things and had a fina jaunt down from the hut. Though clay decided to flip off a tree and nearly broke his neck, but he just managed to rotate and so we proceeded intact. We sayed farewell to the ridge that sheltered and entertained us, gave thanks and hit the road to try our luck with rides.

HOW