Summiting Mt Aspiring could have been a dream for years, but instead the seed of the dream was planted only a week before the climb. When Nic mentioned; that I should have skills enough to climb Mt Aspiring if I wanted, I held on to the idea, and began to dream. He had been up before so I felt confident that together we might make it. “Aspiring” has beautiful note; something inspiring, something perspiring, something I could aspire to... to climb just because it was it is there.
After arriving in Lake Wanaka, the mountain remained hidden for a few days, only to be read about in guide books and to be talked about. But when it peeped its head out from behind the clouds, I couldn’t keep my eyes off it, and I fell in love. Like many loves though, Aspiring remained untouchable, and every day became a weather watching affair. Our ritual was a leisurely breakfast of coffee and muesli on the lake followed by a drive to DoCs to get the latest report by Metview, our weather gospel. There began the endless talks of low pressure, high pressure, winds from the north, south, east and west and endless leaning over and interpreting of maps with colourful graphs. But every day there became a reason not to start the trip… heavy winds... low pressure... rain.. And after morning preparations had been made, they would be aborted. At first I was content to dream; to soak up the idea and prepare mentally, particularly for that early 4 am start I had been warned about. More than fitness, more than anything; that early start seemed to be the most difficult obstical. 4 am was a dreaming hour and not one to be disturbed with a rude awakening and forced breakfast.
But even early mornings can be overcome (unlike the weather) and as each day passed my dissappointment grew, our flight back to Sydney became closer, and the possibility of making my dream a reality and attempting Mount Aspiring was disappearing. Finally though, giving us just enough time to make an attempt, a high which had been heading towards the south island, was predicted to clear the mountain and give us some good summit weather. Suddenly afraid, but very excited, I jumped back in the car, and we took the bumpy road to Rasberry flats - the beginning of the trail.
We set off with big packs at 2 in the afternoon. 15kgs had never felt heavier, and I was totally unprepared for being a humpback. Furthermore, at the start, we had to walk through farms, dodge cow patties and endure big cow's eyes glaring at us with the knowledge we are meat eaters. eeek!! But the walk soon became magical whn we walked into the forests with giant mossy trees and lush dense scrub, and I began singing the Lord of the Rings soundtrack. Our first campsite was at Pearl Flat; which felt like a small Elvish paradise, but was soon swarming with sandflies. They knew no bounds, eating at skin and through clothes with ease, and totally ignoring our tropical strength spray.
The next day began a far longer walk, but also more varied. Over the roots of trees, swing bridges and moraine, we moved before beginning our dance along the ledges to reach Bevan Cole. On the glacier there were so many crevasses that a couple walking ahead of us would take 3 steps, for every fall. So Nic and I tied in together on the rope and hoped for the best - even though our falls seemed to be just as frequent. Reaching Colin Tudd hut was a relief. We made company with a couple from Prague who, although experienced, didn’t have their crampons in NZ yet, so had waltzed across the glacier earlier that morning without any- crazy stuff unless you really know what you are doing.
Anyway, we all sat with eager ears that evening listening to the forecast for the following day which was “fine but with 100 knot winds". But with typical skepticism which brewed after any given forecast, we decided to wake the next morning at 4am, only to be whipped and rattled around outside. I even lost my balance from the wind and fell on the way to the toilet, and then had to go with the door wide open (it refused to shut) slamming repeatedly as I tried to relieve myself. It wasn’t a day to be walking on exposed ridges at 3000 metres. So, we went back to sleep and lazed around, digging somewhat into the leftover food and soups that other parties had left behind.
Later that day we had more visiters… Simon - a guide and his client- Geoff; and we soon learnt about Geoff's dream. Geoff had tried to summit Aspiring in the 70s but bad weather had stopped him. Then, he tried in the 80s but fitness had stopped him. Then he tried again with his son in the 90s and the weather again was a killer. But his dream was still alive as he told us he had been training even harder this time, and this time the guiding company had even hung out for a break in the weather for him. I felt almost guilty telling him of our hastily hashed together plan - my dream which had merely been sown together a week prior, and the fact that Nic, as cool as ever was waltzing up a second time.
The following morning Nic and I set off soon after Simon and Geoff… the forecast the night before had been perfect and only predicted some 20 knot winds arriving late in the day. The climbing I didn't find so hard, but it was consistent, long and exposed. Nic was in essence guiding me, and lead the whole way. When I saw the summit ridge, I burst into tears. It was so out there, so beautiful, so extreme. To ensure I was safe though, he encouraged me to “bite” my crampons in… so I went into a “bite” mantra; all the while knowing that any one step that didn’t bite could be the one step that caused me to slide, and it wasn’t a small drop below but rather a 3000 metre one.
Being on the summit was fun, but short and sweet. I knew I wouldn’t be a gun for summit fever, as the journey itself was more exhilerating than the few moments on top. But still, my dream had become reality; I had summitted my first mountain, and shortly after, after 4 previous attempts, and a life long dream Geoff summitted Aspiring too.
After arriving in Lake Wanaka, the mountain remained hidden for a few days, only to be read about in guide books and to be talked about. But when it peeped its head out from behind the clouds, I couldn’t keep my eyes off it, and I fell in love. Like many loves though, Aspiring remained untouchable, and every day became a weather watching affair. Our ritual was a leisurely breakfast of coffee and muesli on the lake followed by a drive to DoCs to get the latest report by Metview, our weather gospel. There began the endless talks of low pressure, high pressure, winds from the north, south, east and west and endless leaning over and interpreting of maps with colourful graphs. But every day there became a reason not to start the trip… heavy winds... low pressure... rain.. And after morning preparations had been made, they would be aborted. At first I was content to dream; to soak up the idea and prepare mentally, particularly for that early 4 am start I had been warned about. More than fitness, more than anything; that early start seemed to be the most difficult obstical. 4 am was a dreaming hour and not one to be disturbed with a rude awakening and forced breakfast.
But even early mornings can be overcome (unlike the weather) and as each day passed my dissappointment grew, our flight back to Sydney became closer, and the possibility of making my dream a reality and attempting Mount Aspiring was disappearing. Finally though, giving us just enough time to make an attempt, a high which had been heading towards the south island, was predicted to clear the mountain and give us some good summit weather. Suddenly afraid, but very excited, I jumped back in the car, and we took the bumpy road to Rasberry flats - the beginning of the trail.
We set off with big packs at 2 in the afternoon. 15kgs had never felt heavier, and I was totally unprepared for being a humpback. Furthermore, at the start, we had to walk through farms, dodge cow patties and endure big cow's eyes glaring at us with the knowledge we are meat eaters. eeek!! But the walk soon became magical whn we walked into the forests with giant mossy trees and lush dense scrub, and I began singing the Lord of the Rings soundtrack. Our first campsite was at Pearl Flat; which felt like a small Elvish paradise, but was soon swarming with sandflies. They knew no bounds, eating at skin and through clothes with ease, and totally ignoring our tropical strength spray.
The next day began a far longer walk, but also more varied. Over the roots of trees, swing bridges and moraine, we moved before beginning our dance along the ledges to reach Bevan Cole. On the glacier there were so many crevasses that a couple walking ahead of us would take 3 steps, for every fall. So Nic and I tied in together on the rope and hoped for the best - even though our falls seemed to be just as frequent. Reaching Colin Tudd hut was a relief. We made company with a couple from Prague who, although experienced, didn’t have their crampons in NZ yet, so had waltzed across the glacier earlier that morning without any- crazy stuff unless you really know what you are doing.
Anyway, we all sat with eager ears that evening listening to the forecast for the following day which was “fine but with 100 knot winds". But with typical skepticism which brewed after any given forecast, we decided to wake the next morning at 4am, only to be whipped and rattled around outside. I even lost my balance from the wind and fell on the way to the toilet, and then had to go with the door wide open (it refused to shut) slamming repeatedly as I tried to relieve myself. It wasn’t a day to be walking on exposed ridges at 3000 metres. So, we went back to sleep and lazed around, digging somewhat into the leftover food and soups that other parties had left behind.
Later that day we had more visiters… Simon - a guide and his client- Geoff; and we soon learnt about Geoff's dream. Geoff had tried to summit Aspiring in the 70s but bad weather had stopped him. Then, he tried in the 80s but fitness had stopped him. Then he tried again with his son in the 90s and the weather again was a killer. But his dream was still alive as he told us he had been training even harder this time, and this time the guiding company had even hung out for a break in the weather for him. I felt almost guilty telling him of our hastily hashed together plan - my dream which had merely been sown together a week prior, and the fact that Nic, as cool as ever was waltzing up a second time.
The following morning Nic and I set off soon after Simon and Geoff… the forecast the night before had been perfect and only predicted some 20 knot winds arriving late in the day. The climbing I didn't find so hard, but it was consistent, long and exposed. Nic was in essence guiding me, and lead the whole way. When I saw the summit ridge, I burst into tears. It was so out there, so beautiful, so extreme. To ensure I was safe though, he encouraged me to “bite” my crampons in… so I went into a “bite” mantra; all the while knowing that any one step that didn’t bite could be the one step that caused me to slide, and it wasn’t a small drop below but rather a 3000 metre one.
Being on the summit was fun, but short and sweet. I knew I wouldn’t be a gun for summit fever, as the journey itself was more exhilerating than the few moments on top. But still, my dream had become reality; I had summitted my first mountain, and shortly after, after 4 previous attempts, and a life long dream Geoff summitted Aspiring too.
Nice work guys. I hear tears are a sign of early onset Summit Fever, watch out.
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