On top of the world with a German Angel

From everywhere in Nelson and Tasman if you look westerly you can see a mountain range that dominates the horizon. These are the peaks of the Kahurangi National Park and the snow covered peak is that of Mount Arthur. At 1795 meters high it towers over the region and today was the day we would seek to conquer it.

In the absence of Nay, who perhaps wisely chose to go shopping instead, I would be climbing with Dad (new found adrenaline junky following his skydive induction), one of dad's good friends Ron and his son Jack.

A 6 am start ensured we reached the starting point at the base of the mountain around 7:30 and we ascended for an hour up a well tracked pathway to a conservation hut named Flora Hut where hikers can spend the night in bunk beds and make use of the log fire in cold conditions. The hut stands at about 1200 meters and in the winder the snowfall can be several feet deep even at this height.

From the hut we clambered up to an exposed hillside which led up to the summit of the mountain. The track provided incredible 360 degree views around the entire North East of the South Island, the height meant that we were exposed to some quite strong winds as we climbed higher

From this point we could start to make out the pathway we would need to follow to make it all the way to the summit. It also became clear that there was more snow around the top than we had anticipated. Two hikers passed us on the way back down saying they couldn't make it up due to the snow cover.

As we got higher the terrain changed, much as like the Tongariro crossing the plant life began to fade and the landscape became more volcanic with sharper rock edges, steeper drops and several sink holes where snow had fallen and set hard enough to walk on providing a very rare opportunity for a snowball fight at the height of summer...

 (spot jack)

As the climb got more challenging, with a snowy landscape laid out in front of us and the Summit in view Dad and Ron decided that they would wait there for Jack and I if we wanted to continue. My main concern was that I could see we would have to cross areas where the path had been totally covered in snow. The slope was between 50-60 degrees and should we lose our footing would we get caught in an avalanche if the snow around us began to slide? At this point there were no climbers in front of us so no one to follow. Jack was keen to keep going and so was I. We left Dad and Ron and continued upwards from where the photo below was taken.

We made progress quite quickly but as we crossed the snow patches we relied on our arms heavily for balance and to spread our weight as we didn't have much confidence in the stability of the snow underfoot. I've never climbed in snowy or icy conditions and I quickly began to feel a little out of my depth and began to think about turning back. We reached the final summit sign and then the track disappeared under the snow, and all we could see where the blue poles sticking up through the snow indicating where the track should go, but no idea of weather the track traversed under the snow or headed straight between the poles. 

We reached the largest most steepest snow patch and decided that I would go first and if I made it should back to Jack for him to make his mind up weather he wanted to follow.

As I crawled across like a baby learning to walk I didn't look back. I thought to myself that too be honest I've had a pretty good innings and achieved quite a lot in my brief 25 years so I was pretty content that if I was about get smashed up in an avalanche I would be happy with my effort at a life. Soon I got close to where the first patch of snow was ending and then everything around me was practically vertical. I had no idea how to move forward. 

It was at that point I met my guardian angel, although he had no idea that he was one. On all fours I looked behind me to see a tall smiling bloke with his hands in his pockets who had just casually walked across the vertical snow patch like Jesus on water. "I'm pleased to see you here!" I said to him. He smiled back, no doubt thinking who is this crackpot clearly stuck up here in his England shorts and bright pink skiing socks freaking out. "We'll go up this way" he said, and then like a weird mountain goat spider creature he scuttled up the VERTICAL CLIFF FACE CLEARLY IGNORING THE BLUE MARKER POLES buried by about 2 feet of snow further ahead.

I thought "bollocks. This bloke knows what he's doing....and I don't have a f**king clue so stick with him and you just might survive this!" Again on all fours I scrambled up the cliff face which was covered in melting snow and ice with only grassy plants to hold on to. Trying not to look down I pulled out root after root of the mountain plants until I reached a ledge with this bloke. Looking up I could see no way to move onwards, just a 30 meter vertical wall of snow between us and the top. "Up here" he says, and begins kicking at the wall to make foot holes and create a snow ladder to climb up. At this point I've got no way back and I can virtually taste the top and follow him up using the feet and hand holes he created. 

As I near the top he says "smile!", I look up white with fear and squeeze out a smile as he takes my picture on his camera - clearly to take home and tell his friends and family his tale of heroism helping a man from England with very obvious special needs get to the summit...

Heres an image of the route we took to make it up:

At the top I introduce myself and it turns out he is from Stuttgart and spent all his childhood climbing the Swiss alps. I literally couldn't believe my luck. Right at my most vulnerable point a kick ass Swiss/German snow lifeguard angel arrives to virtually carry me to the top - brilliant.

The view was awesome and as I leaned over the edge I could see Jack waiting below and also the point where we left Ron and Dad, who had manged to get photos of my struggle from miles away using the zooms on their cameras.

Coming down I had much more confidence in the snow, but again my German angel stepped in to save me. As we left the ridge onto the snow he said "Don't step down, jump about a meter onto the snow". He did it and landed fine so I followed. He then picked up a rock and threw it at the first meter of snow which just collapsed into a void. As the snow falls against the rocks it sets and the edges melt with time. The gaps around the edge can be up to 6 feet deep and get disguised by fresh snow which falls over the holes. Made a mental note for next time.

We got back to the car about 3pm - an epic 8 hour round trip, which despite the resulting cracking and snapping of bones across the anatomical library, was worth every single minute.