As many of you know, traveling to Antarctica for research means transiting through New Zealand. And it would be near criminal not to spend some time in this beautiful country on the return trip home. So I make a point of it every year!
This year was no different. After living it the high, cold desert at the south pole for a month, stepping off of the plane in New Zealand always brings a blast to my senses. All of a sudden, it is dark! There is humidity in the air, I can smell plants, and I don't need to wear a jacket outside. And it is summer in New Zealand.
I had two weeks to work with in New Zealand this year. In the first week, I did a nice two-day backpack trip with my friends Erik and Jeffrey up in Arthur's pass, visited my friends Kate, Orin and Liz, and went out climbing for a day with Orin.
However, the big mountains further south were calling. When no climbing partner materialized, I packed into a rental car and headed south to Wanaka to hike the Young-Wilkin circuit. My intention was to take 5 days on what is normally a 3-day trip, and try to climb some peaks while I was in the backcountry.
After an afternoon of shopping and packing in Wanaka and an evening chatting with travelers from Germany and Finland in a Hostel, I slipped out of the Hostel at 6:30am to the sonorous snoring of my five room-mates. A one-hour drive brought me to the highway pull-off, which served as a trailhead.
Morning Light on Lake Wanaka
Starting the trip at the Young Valley trail-head.
Unfortunately, the Young river valley is on the opposite side the Makarora River as the highway. The river is wide, shallow, and very cold at 8:30am. I took my boots off started wading across, leaning heavily on my hiking pole. My legs quickly went numb below the knees. Above the knees, my legs were very much not numb, and became a limited-time-only, all-you-can-eat buffet for an ever-growing hoard of black sandflies. For dessert, the cold water gave me an ice cream headache.
Crossing the Makarora river
The Makarora River valley
I tied my boots up quickly and rushed away from the river bead to get away from the sandflies. The Young river valley is characteristic of the western slopes of the Mt Aspiring National Park; flat valley bottoms, huge rising mountain walls with no foothills to speak of, and temperate rainforest flora that rises directly up to ~2000 meter peaks. The water was very clear and created crystal blue pools between waterfalls. It is stunningly beautiful. Here are a few photos from the hike up the valley.
The trail was washed out in places, apparently from 2007.
Washed-out Trail
Bridge at a creek crossing
Purple Mushroom!
I arrived at Young's hut after a leisurely hike by 4pm. It was nice having a relaxing first day to get my hiking legs under me. As I unpacked, a group of two arrived. As we talked a bit in the main room of the hut, the girl looked at me and said, "Are you from Bozeman, Montana?" I was a bit taken aback, and stammered out a, "um, yes, and who are you?" It turns out that Susan was from Bozeman as well, and she and her friend Duncan had read my post about hiking the Northwest circuit on Stewart Island in 2011 on this very blog! They were planning to head south and complete that trek later in the month. So here is a shout-out to Susan and Duncan! I hope you had a fabulous trip.
As the afternoon and evening progressed, a nice collection of people filtered in to spend the right. There was a pair of women from Switzerland, a Brit and a German who had been traveling for over a year now, the folks from Bozeman, among others. We ended up playing cards into the evening.
On Day 2, I was up and out of the hut by 7:30. My plan was to hike up to Gillespie pass, and attempt to climb Mt Awful via the East Ridge. The clouds hung low in the valley as I climbed up above the brush-line. The previous day had started out similarly cloudy but was beautiful by afternoon, and I hoped that the day would turn out to be a "carbon-copy" of the prevous day, as the Kiwi hiker I passed affirmed would happen.
The hike up to the pass was steep and tall and went almost straight up. Apparently New Zealanders don't believe in switch-backs.
Yeah, the trail goes right up through there, somewhere
Looking straight back down to the valley floor
I arrived at Gillespie pass at 10:30 am, just as the clouds began to break. I could get a view of Mt Awful through the clouds, and it looked challenging but doable without a rope. So I dropped my pack, stuffed a small rucksack with crampons, ice-axe, food, water, a jacket, and took off.
Clouds obscure Mt Awful
The East Ridge route climbs the rock buttress in the foreground, then follows the snow-fields and rock steps up to the skyline, and finally summits on the right.
The first rock step looked tall and vertical from a distance, but it gradually tilted back in angle as I approached, and by the time I was climbing on the step itself, it had morphed from into a hard 4th-class step with a good crack up the middle. Next came a long scramble around a snowfield and up lots of 4th-class terrain, bringing me to the final rock step that guarded the upper snowfield.
Skirting the snow on the right. The big East Face is the right-hand rock wall.
This upper rock step had looked like the crux of the climb from Gillespie pass, and it had unfortunately not morphed into anything easier as I got closer. I checked around to the right, but backed off quickly as the full exposure of the large East Face became readily apparent, and the rappel slings from someone else's failed foray swayed in the wind ahead. I decided to check back in the center of the rock step. The first crack was wet and vertical, a no-go for a soloist. I saw a potential line up face-holds, but it also looked far too difficult to climb without a rope. I was beginning to consider bailing on the route.
Finally, in the middle of the rock step, I spotted a left-to-right trending ramp. Strapping on my crampons, I traversed out on the snow to the base of the ramp. It looked easy! This was the secret passage.
Snow leaning against the final rock step.
The ramp of glory. It was not as steep as it might look.
Above the ramp, the last snowfield and final rock ridge went quickly, and before long I was on the summit! It turned out to be an absolutely beautiful day, with breath-taking views in all directions. I thoroughly enjoyed the East Ridge of Mt Awful (2192 m summit, NZ grade 2+, Kyle-grade lots of 4th class with a bit of easy 5th class), and would recommend it to anyone else. Fun climbing, reasonably solid rock, logical line, and aesthetic summit. The East face has a number of long rock routes which look fun but certainly adventurous with a long, complicated approach and a descent down the East ridge.
On the summit of Mt Awful
Coming down the route was not a problem, and as expected I descended the ramp with no problems as my crampons rode in my pack.
Snow slopes high on Mt Awful
I arrived back at Gillespie pass at 5pm, and looked unhappily at the 1000-meter descent on the trail down into the Siberia valley. I protested, but with nobody to hear or sympathize I just ate my Mars bar and shouldered my pack. Finally, at 8:30pm I arrived in the valley bottom and set up camp near a stream. Though the 13-hour day had exhausted me and the sandflies were thick, it was a moment to savor. I cooked dinner and drank tea while the last of the evening light lifted from the peaks and was replaced by a vast expanse of twinkling stars in the sky.
Starry skies of New Zealand
Day 3: The plan was to hike up to the top of the Siberia valley and climb Mt Doris. I had originally thought of trying to climb Mt Alba, but could not see a reasonable route up that peak, so I changed objectives to Mt Doris. Fatigue from the previous day caused me to ignore the morning alarm, and I finally traded a warm sleeping bag for vicious sandflies at 9am. Mt Doris lies at the very head of the Siberia valley. The hiking trail does not continue any further up the valley then where I had camped. The first few kilometers are flat floodplains covered with grass and the occasional swamp. After that however, the valley closes in and starts gaining elevation through a moderately steep drainage with a temperate rainforest pushing right down to the edge of the river.
Morning in the Siberia Valley
I left my camp only by 9:30am, and immediately noticed the morning dew. My gaiters were in my pack, kept high and dry for the snow-fields I planned to be crossing later in the day. The thigh-high grass was heavily laden with dew, and each step set off rivers of water rushing down my pants and into my boots. My boots reached an equilibrium state when they filled to the brim with water, and the water that poured into my boots equaled the water that squirted back out over the top with each step.
An hour later, with saturated socks and boots, I left the grass fields for the upper river section. The going along the bottom was difficult due to the brush, and the creek was big enough that I could only cross at places that offered enough stepping rocks to hop between.
I explored pushing up into the brush along the side of the river, and discovered that travel away from the creek bed was more akin to waging a war against chest-high ferns that obfuscated trecherous footing, fraught with lumps and holes. I retreated back to the creek-bed. The going was beautiful but very slow, much slower than I anticipated. I was reminded of canyoneering in Utah, except with flowing water and no possibility of climbing up into the sides of the canyons.
Mt Doris above Siberia creek.
I arrived above the brush line only after four hours of effort. Seeing the digits 1, 3 and 0 on my watch, any hope of climbing Mt Doris vaporized like the clouds of the previous day. I decided to eat a relaxed lunch, swim in the beautiful water, bask in the sun, and head back down the valley, content with a view of Mt Doris.
Chilling at lunch, with no hope of climbing a peak today.
Swimming Time!
As I worked back down the valley, I explored new routes, trying to follow gullies and grassy paths through the brush above the stream. I ended up piecing together a much more efficient route. An idea now came into my head of now that I knew the route up the creek, perhaps I should try to climb Mt Doris again tomorrow? Successful people are not those who always succeed on the first try; rather they are the people who continue trying until they succeed. I decided to try again.
Motivated by the plan to try Mt Doris again, I hiked back to my camp. I wanted to move the camp up the valley to the top of the grassy planes, but it was getting late. I decided that if I arrived back at camp after 6pm, I would stay put; otherwise I would pack camp and hike back up the valley. I sat down at camp and looked at my watch. 5:57pm. Well, I guess that means I am moving camp... So pack up and up we go. Now I was getting tired, but knew that it would be worth it.
Finally arriving at camp, I supplemented my dinner with helpless sandflies who flew into my couscous, and watched the sun set down the valley. The moon came up just before bed, turning the valley into a silver land of magic.
Day 4: "Beep Beep." "Beep Beep." The alarm went off at 6:30 am. The sandflies must have had a school field-trip to come see me, and were eagerly crowded on the mesh of my bivy sack, waiting for me to emerge. I got up quickly, packed my pack with an ice-axe but no crampons, and set off.
[2017]
This time, going up the creek went very quickly and I was up to my lunch spot in only 1.5 hours. 9:30am is the new 1:30pm! After a quick snack, I contoured up through the sidewall of the valley, heading towards Siberia pass. The route followed steep grass slopes, with lose scree at the top. None-the-less, the going to the pass was smooth, and I arrived at the pass in good time.
Looking up the route on Mt Doris. Complicated and loose.
Looking down from the same spot as the photo above. This is why I left cairns.
I could now see the route to Mt Doris, and it was much steeper and more complicated than I had imagined. Above me rose a complicated face of steep bluffs with poor rock and no obvious lines. I headed up onto the face, following the line of least resistance. Because I was linking ledges and corners, I left several cairns to guide the return trip. A very loose chimney brought me through the first rock band, and I continued to zig-zag up and across the face. I do not think that Mt Doris sees many ascents, and I saw no evidence of any other human passage on the entire face. I arrived on the summit by 1pm.
Loose chimney
Summit!
On the summit of Doris.
It was nearly cloudless on the summit, and Mt Awful was clearly visible. I enjoyed the beautiful surroundings, and celebrated with some spicy snack-mix. The descent proceeded without incident, and I climbed down to the pass then quickly dropped back down to the floor of the valley, skiing on scree and grass as I went. Clouds had begun to accumulate, and a light breeze mixed the 7 waterfalls on the adjacent valley wall.
Looking at Mt Awful from the summit of Mt Doris
Down the valley and back to camp, I packed and hiked two hours to the Siberia hut through the afternoon sun and waving yellow grass of the valley floor. I talked to the ranger at the hut, who thought that I was the first person to climb Mt Doris this year. After spending almost three days without talking to anyone, the hut was a bit of culture shock! I listened to people chatter about life in the city, their new gear, whether or not to hire a helicopter to fly them out the next day; it was strange, but I felt rather disconnected from the discussions. Some conversations were interesting as well; one person works as a bus driver in Alaska, another started a job as a physiotherapist, a third was a wrestler, and a fourth couple had worked as a construction manager in Dubai for a few years and were now taking a year off to travel the world. One lady was a self-righteous environmentalist who liked to hear herself talk.
One constant in the conversations was the trip out. Besides hiking out the Siberia Valley, you can fly out on a fixed-wing plane or helicopter, or hike to the next hut and take a jet-boat. Of everyone at the cabin, I was the only person who would end up simply hiking out.
Mt Awful, as viewed from the Siberia Hut
Day 5: I left the hut at a reasonable hour, and set off for the hike out. The first section was a nice hike to the Kern Forks hut through a pretty river gorge. From there on out, I can see why nobody hikes. The poorly maintained trail lead out a flat river valley, alternating between grass fields and hiking up in the trees. Towards the end, I decided just to stay down in the flood-plain and walked for some time on river pebbles.
Looking back up the Siberia valley
The outlet of the trail was not obvious. I arrived at the mouth of the Siberia valley, and ended up hiking through a cow pasture for over an hour. This trail eventually ended on the banks of the Makarora River, with no obvious place to cross and no trail on the other side. I waded across, fording several branches of the river, eventually ending up in a sheep pasture.
Makarora River crossing
The sheep pasture I crossed, as viewed from the higway.
There was no trail, so I ended up climbing over several barb-wire fences and crossing a sheep pasture to arrive at the road. It was a rather inauspicious ending to an otherwise great trip. For others I would recommend paying for a jet-boat ride back to Makarora. I was now on the highway, 5km out of town and 10km from my car. I started walking, sticking out my thumb at each car that passed. I was eventually picked up by a car of American and Australian guys just out of college with long hair, tank-tops and big sunglasses who were headed to the West Coast for a short trip, and before I knew it, I was back at my car.
All in all, it was a very nice trip to a beautiful place, and I would recommend the trip to others. I need to get back into this area to climb the East Face of Mt Awful, and to climb Mt Polux and Castor, a bit further to the south.
Mt Cook, just because it is pretty
Mt Cook region, taken with a zoom lens
