It was after 7:30p by the time we escaped Dunedin but by the end of it I
had a mismatched pair of a warm glove and mitten (at least to fit
opposing hands!). I had the rushed "throw everything in the car" approach to packing, which allows all objects to be weighed in the mind through a several hour drive, a night's sleep and a morning's careful packing. It was past midnight by the time we set up the tent near Mt Cook with an alarm set for 6:00a. A frosty morning prompted careful selection of warm clothing as we packed in the Mt Cook airport parking lot. Eventually we managed to sort out a super-economy seat (we had to have our packs on our laps) on a plane to the head of Tasman Glacier, New Zealand's longest glacier. We passed great scenery including the spectacular braids of the Murchison River. The flight took longer than I expected which had me consciously thinking about the long tramp out we would do on the last day.
The plane landed without incident on the upper neve of the Tasman Glacier, not far from Tasman Saddle Hut, our home for the next two nights. This is the point at which I had to remember how to ski, this being the first time I have skied in over 4 years and the first time with a very heavy pack. It was anything but smooth but I eventually made it to the hut and happily unloaded the majority of contents in the hut. The hut is perched delicately on a prow of rock completely surrounded by the Tasman Glacier. About 1m from the bunk where I slept in the hut was a 100m vertical rock face with an ice fall directly below. A handline extends between the toilet and hut which I appreciated. A balcony (somehow referred to as a fire escape!) looks straight down the cliff onto the glacier and onto Mt Cook.
We then set out for some ski touring in warm cloudless weather. I could not believe how warm it was. The snow conditions were not great and there was a horrible confidence-sucking breakable crust. I took quite a few falls on turns. We spent considerable time ski touring through the ice fall southwest of the hut, taking our skis off where necessary to explore the blue ice of crevices and caves. We skinned past the ice fall below the hut and found an easy route up to the hut. It was past sunset by the time we reached the hut and met the other inhabitants, including a couple familiar faces.
Despite a good forecast, we awoke to white nothingness- no visible mountains in whiteout conditions and light snow. Sleeping in was unanimous among the occupants. Mid-morning Lara and I decided to make the most of the limited time we had on the Tasman so geared up and skied down to explore the ice fall below the hut. Visibility was horrible which made skiing ridiculously hard- the landscape lacked features of any kind and it was impossible to get a sense of the steepness of slopes in front of us. As we got to lower elevation we got beneath the cloud, but visibility still came and went. We spent several hours exploring some great blue ice caves before skinning back to the hut. Visibility was so poor I could only see about 5m in front of me, though I could intermittently follow the pole marks from our previous day's route.
The last day we thankfully awoke to gorgeous alpine glow on Mt Cook, this time better weather than forecasted. We packed up our heavy packs and set off from the hut at 8:30a. Despite numerous photo stops, we skied about 15 km down the smooth gradient of the glacier in less than 2 hours. The scenery was amazing. I had never skied in such a wide open place before. All was quiet apart from the occasional aircraft and avalanche.
At the end of the ice we had a nice lunch in the sun, then reluctantly began our dreaded walk along the lower rock-covered portion of the Tasman Glacier. Travel started pretty well, but the loose boulders and undulating topography were persistent. Sense of scale was useless. Feet screamed in plastic ski boots. Progress was less than 1km per hour. I used to think Geologist Hell was some grassy meadow. After only a couple hours, I decided Geologist Hell was more ironic than that: it would be an endless undulating boulder-covered glacier, which you would be sentenced for eternity to traverse (and the rocks would be the most boring imaginable, greywacke perhaps). It took us 8 hours to cross. In retrospect we took the best possible route. It was horrible!
As light faded we eventually found Garbage Gully, the only reasonable route up the enormous 100m+ high lateral moraine of the Tasman. It was remarkable to think how much the glacier has changed in such a short time, only fifty years ago the glacier was over 150m higher here. The moraine has been collapsing ever since which meant we were not out of the woods yet and had a long 8km walk to the road end. We were fortunate to cross paths with a bloke headed over Ball Pass who was quite enthusiastic when we proposed a car shuttle, to both of our benefits. Crushed with fatigue, heavy packs and sore feet, we reached his car at around 10:30p, or 14 hours after we set out in the morning. Would I ever do the hike out again? Never! Well at least not until I forgot how horrible it was...
Lake at the terminal of the Tasman Glacier. Fifty years ago there was no lake and the glacier was higher than the lateral moraine at the right of the photo.
Thanks to Lara for a really fantastic trip.
