The Climber issue 87

THE CLIMBER

AUTUMN 2014 $9.95

87

NEW ZEALAND’S CLIMBING MAGAZINE

QUARTERLY MAGAZINE OF THE NEW ZEALAND ALPINE CLUB

W H I T E

S A I L

M A R C H

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P E A K ,

I N D I A

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Roman Alexander-Hofmann on Blood Meridian (32), Little Babylon. The Cleddau crags played host to some big sends this summer. Notably, Roman established Spartacus (33), a link-up of No Country for Old Men into Xena; Josiah Jacobsen-Grocott ticked Colossus (33); and Derek Thatcher got the second ascent of Xena (33).

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ON THE COVER James Field-Mitchell on his new, mixed protection route The Nothing (30) at Waipapa, Waikato. JOSHUA WINDSOR

CONTENTS ISSUE 87

FEATURES 26 NZAC 50-YEAR VETERAN MEMBERS 2014 28 KIWI CLASSICS: THE SHEILA FACE

BY KESTER BROWN

34 LI MING

A new trad climbing area in China

BY DEREK CHENG

42 EIGHT TIPS FOR BETTER CLIMBING PHOTOS

BY MARK WATSON

48 THIS IS NOT A TEST

Climbing performance foodstuffs

reviewed and (not) tested.

BY MATT PIERSON

REGULARS 4 The Sharp End

Comment and opinion

10 Exposure 14 Climbing News and Events 50 Stuff You Need 53 Books and Films 56 The Last Pitch 2

THE CLIMBER ISSUE 87, AUTUMN 2014

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THE SHARP END

REFLECTIONS ON THE 1954 NEW ZEALAND ALPINE CLUB HIMALAYAN EXPEDITION THIS EXPEDITION was the first Himalayan venture organised by NZAC. It followed the success of earlier Himalayan visits by New Zealanders in 1950–1952. When Everest was climbed in 1953, planning went ahead with real intent.

Sir Edmund Hillary was selected as leader, with Charles Evans from the United Kingdom as his deputy. A third member from the Everest team was George Lowe.

There were a total of ten in the final party, of whom only four are alive today. They are Brian Wilkins from Wellington, and Bill Beaven, Norman Hardie and Geoff Harrow from Christchurch.

At the conclusion of the expedition a book was written about it by Hillary and Lowe. It gave an account of the exploration and the major climbing events. It also recounted details of the McFarlane accident and the illness of the leader. The 1955 New Zealand Alpine Journal includes several articles by members of the party. Hillary, Lowe and Hardie have all included chapters about the expedition in their various books.

Recently, Brian Wilkins has written a book, titled Among Secret Beauties, which is mainly about the same expedition.

The three Christchurch members—who are still mildly active in the mountains­—have met and discussed the events of 60 years ago. We state the following: 1. The planning and preparations for the expedition in New Zealand and England were totally adequate. These included clothing, equipment and food for a trip of this size, budget and duration.

2. During the course of the expedition, the day-to-day planning by the senior team was carried out efficiently. We consider the right decisions were made to meet the requirements of the club and in dealing with the circumstances that occurred.

3. The leadership was never questioned and the team worked as a happy and efficient unit. When Hillary was struck down with illness, Charles Evans became the leader and he handled all duties in a calm and competent manner. Evans’ skills and leadership were apparent to the mountaineering world when in 1955 he led the expedition to Kanchenjunga, making the first ascent, with four reaching the top.

4. The expedition did not ascend a major peak. However, some 20 climbs of peaks over 20,000ft (6000m) were made, all first ascents, including Baruntse and Petangtse. Permission to attempt Mt Makalu had been declined in favour of a Californian team. In those years the Nepal Government allowed just one expedition on a mountain at a time. A considerable area was mapped and the results published in a Royal Geographical Society Everest map.

We Christchurch members consider the expe-

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THE CLIMBER ISSUE 87, AUTUMN 2014

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dition, when considered in full, was a success, a credit to New Zealand mountaineering and a wonderful experience.

–Bill Beavan, Norman Hardie and George Harrow

HIGHBALL I HOPE John Palmer’s recent Axes of Evil article (The Climber, issue 85) was meant to be tongue-in-cheek, because I couldn’t take it seriously—or could I? I want a new highball bouldering t-shirt, preferably in black because that’s more evil looking and people will think I’m truly hardcore, not just someone who climbs rocks the hardest way possible.

Otherwise that would be contrived and anyhow we boulderers disdain modern technology like ladders, which are only for painters.

–Matt Farrelly

JEWEL OF A PIC I’D LIKE to pass on my regards to John Palmer for his cracking climbing photo on pages 12-13 in issue 86 of The Climber. One of the ways I judge my appreciation of an image is to consider if I’d like to see it framed and hanging on my wall and John’s pic easily passes that test!

–Andrew Peacock

A CLIMBERS’ JOURNAL THE PUBLICATIONS of NZAC have evolved over time. The New Zealand Alpine Journal and The Climber have both improved with age, while the online information is a new and important resource, allowing for regularly updated information and comments.

Each occupies an overlapping but distinctive bibliographic niche that compliments the other.

The New Zealand Alpine Journal is the coffee table book that holds pride of place on our bookshelf. I can plot my years of belonging to the club through my school, university and adult years. Each contain now historic articles of first ascents here and overseas, as well as news of new routes in regional New Zealand.

The Climber is the glossy mag that resides in our rack in the bathroom. It is read in stages, until it is displaced by a newer edition.

Slowly, I read the editorials, letters, reviews and essays of developing climbing venues.

The stunning photos and entertaining articles motivate me to want to visit places I know

little about. I’m so pleased some keen folk are putting up routes in the Borland region.

The internet is the place for detailed descriptions, topos as well as comments and debate. Has my latest route in the Fyfe risen a grade, having lost its crux hold? Have the layers of grime and lichen been a deterrent to those repeating our climbs? Is anyone still climbing at Twin Stream?

But does it really matter if each contains shared material? I derive a different enjoyment from each, and would be disappointed to see too radical a change. Let each slowly grow into their own distinct place in the NZAC publications stable.

It would be sad to radically change a good set up.

–Al Mark

DOES NZAC EXIST TO SERVE ITS MEMBERS? OVER THE past year, I have had quite a few dealings with NZAC, sometimes relating specifically to activities and entities I have helped organise, such as the Remarkables Ice and Mixed Festival and the New Zealand Alpine Team, and more generally in the usual ways in which a member would interact with the club, such as staying in huts, reading publications and climbing with other members. I have been told the club must be financially sustainable and as such needs to be run like a business. In some ways I agree with that, but we are still a club and as such, all decisions should serve the membership. The membership should not serve the club. I have seen these policies in action and their impact on me as a member. Current policy, combined with an odd approach to investment decisions is hurting NZAC. I have seen a general culture of caution and risk avoidance, combined with a drive for profitability erode the ideals for which the club was founded. I wonder if the policies we are pursuing today as a club will negatively impact our relevance and membership base in the future. Is not the first step of being a good business providing a product your customers want to purchase? Or put another way, will the climbers of tomorrow want to join NZAC. Several factors relating to the current direction of NZAC are really starting to concern me as a club member. Recently my partner and I stayed at Unwin Hut. We were warned by a fellow club member before going: ‘Things have changed, it’s not the same as it used to be.’ They were right.

Upon arriving, my club card was inspected, it was noted that my membership would expire the next day and I would likely have to pay full price for the second night. In the end we paid for two nights at the member’s price, stayed one and left the balance as a donation to the club.

More concerning are the conversations I have had since then with members around Unwin and other huts. One member stated he turned up to stay and Unwin but the lodge was fully booked by a private wedding party.

If the warden had not let my friend crash at the warden’s own house, he would have had to go to the CMC hut, which, like any good

club hut is only full when it’s fully booked by its own club members. It is often said that the main reason people belong to NZAC is huts. No doubt this was the line used to justify the Unwin upgrade. But there’s not much point being in the club if we turn all our huts into youth hostels and there is no longer any room for us to stay in them. A similar thing happened to me at Homer Hut recently. I had to stay in the warden’s quarters as half the hut was full of backpackers and stoat trappers. Only about eight people were climbers. If we are so worried about the huts making money that we have to fill them up with non club members, I would rather we sell them and invest the cash in something that actually benefits a broader cross section of club members. Imagine how much more we might see of each other if NZAC sold all its huts and invested the cash in climbing gyms (with cafés and library/meeting rooms) for each of the main sections. This would probably spark more interaction with both young and old, resulting in more actual climbing for club members than having a hut that we can’t even get a bunk in. For the size of the financial investment and subsequent burden Unwin placed on the club’s finances, combined with the limited amount of members who now benefit from the expenditure, surely we could have focussed our resources on something more relevant. Once Unwin is paid off will we then be able to turn it back into a club hut and kick out the weddings and backpackers? I doubt it very much.

I guess it wouldn’t be fair to rant and not propose some solutions. Firstly, I would like to see the time a single person can serve on a committee cut from ten years to four.

If you cannot make a meaningful contribution in your position in a period of four years then step aside and make room for someone else. Fresh ideas and motivation come from encouraging young, active people to participate across all areas of the club. Give those people real decision-making power and a short timeline and see what they can do. It is also important to show to other members through good club structure that they can contribute and make real changes to the club. The main reason people avoid being part of these established committees is the entrenched structure which makes them feel powerless to enact real changes.

Let’s re-think the time limits and encourage new people with new ideas to step forward.

I would like to see huts being there for club members and guests only! We are not a hostel building business. Once Unwin is paid for, let’s turn it back into a members-only lodge and let’s enjoy spending time there with other climbers.

There are many great things about our club. Let’s hope the current crop of appointed leaders has the power and the vision to lead us in the right direction. If not, perhaps it’s time a few motivated individuals got together and voted en-mass to enact the change they would like to see.

–Daniel Joll

Response from NZAC President and NZAC General Manager DAN, THANKS for putting pen to paper, we always appreciate getting feedback. NZAC has a long tradition of members giving the club a ‘shake-up’ every now and then.

I think we all agree that NZAC must be run on a financially sustainable basis, as it has been for more than 120 years. But run as a business? No. NZAC is a non-profit incorporated society. Any end-of-year surplus we generally spend the following year. The Club does have paid staff, a large asset base and receives public money from Sport NZ. We think it’s entirely appropriate that financial disciplines are incorporated into the Club’s governance and management. We also agree that the first step of being a good organisation is providing products and services that members want.

We have a pretty good idea of what that is, via regular membership surveys. We know for example, that the things NZAC members consider most important are (in order of importance): alpine huts, beginner instruction courses, guidebooks, base lodges, recreation advocacy, the website, the New Zealand Alpine Journal and The Climber magazine.

On the whole, we think the club is doing a pretty good job providing those things. Thanks must go to the dozens of volunteers who donate countless hours making them happen.

Sorry to hear about your experience at Unwin Lodge. We don’t think it is unreasonable that your membership card is checked in order to obtain the member’s rate. Your dona-

tion is acknowledged and appreciated.

Your friend was unlucky to arrive on that weekend in 2012. It was the only time Unwin has been booked out for a wedding. The wedding party were NZAC members, as were many of the guests. We think it is an amazing endorsement of the new Unwin that they chose to be married there. On two other occasions members have held birthday parties at Unwin and booked out every bed. Similarly, we take it as a compliment, but it is extremely rare that one party books the entire lodge.

But Unwin Lodge is full quite regularly. The managers do strive to set beds aside for NZAC members and we thank them for letting your friend crash in the warden’s quarters. They are good people. Yours is a good reminder to all of us that it pays to ring ahead, on (03) 435 1100, or check the Unwin Lodge page on the website: alpineclub.org.nz/hut/unwin.

We have noticed the change in Homer Hut usage as well. We suspect that it has been publicised by a backpacker guidebook, website or blog. These non-climbing tourists expect a hostel but soon learn that there are no showers and no flush toilets (and sometimes leave).

In response we have restricted the amount of camping around the hut and reserved it for NZAC members only. We will look at other measures if need be.

The stoat-trappers you mention may have been part of the NZAC Southland Section’s stoat control initiative, which has produced some great results. Full credit should go to those volunteers.

You are right that the accommodating non-members in our huts is a tricky balancing act. It’s not financially sustainable, nor in the spirit of mountain huts, to exclude nonmembers entirely. We aim to ensure places for members at all times. On occasions this is challenging, and we acknowledge the inconvenience and disappointment for members when this occurs. If members feel they are being excluded from their huts, the club needs to act. Similarly, if members would prefer to sell their huts and invest in climbing gyms.

How will we know?

Well, the policies and direction of NZAC are ultimately decided by members, not paid staff, by way of section committees, their representatives on the Club Committee and its sub-committees, such as the Accommodation Committee. Serving on a committee is not for everyone, it is a donation of precious spare time and expertise. We are grateful to all who choose to do this and would love to see more people putting their hand up to serve. There are many options. Section committees are usually on the lookout for new members. The various club sub-committees (publications, accommodation, climbing/instruction, expedition fund, recreational advocacy and events) are often looking to fill gaps.

On that point, of the 16 members sitting on the Club Committee, only one has served more than ten years. Only another four have served more than four years. Most serve only a couple of years and at every Club Committee

meeting there is always at least one fresh face bringing new ideas. The term of the president is set by the club rules at two years, with a year either side as incoming or outgoing president. Our problem isn’t people hanging around too long, it is the opposite—holding on to our institutional memory.

You’ll know that discussions are underway around forming a Central Otago Section of NZAC. This is something that the Club Committee is very keen on. There are certainly plenty of NZAC members in Central Otago and the Queenstown screening of Banff is a great fundraiser. Sure, it means section committee meetings and an AGM. But Central Otago members would be the beneficiaries of their section levies and funds raised by the local Banff screening. They will also get to send a section representative to the Club Committee.

A chance to effect change in positive way!

–John Cocks, NZAC President and Sam Newton, NZAC General Manager

THIS ISSUE’S PRIZE GOES TO: AL MARK

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THE SHARP END

MOVING MOUNTAINS

Troy Mattingley embracing the absurd. Self-portrait bouldering at the head of the Huxley River North Branch.

EDITORIAL ‘OH, MY GOD—what depths have this revered publication sunk to? […]

Old mountaineers must be recoiling in horror as rock climbing assumes an almost dignified position beside its honourable cousin, alpinism!’

That was Graeme Dingle, in the 1982 New Zealand Alpine Journal.

Clearly Ding was being facetious. Almost? The cover of that NZAJ featured Graeme Aimer jamming the overhanging groove of Court Jester at Castle Rock, looking very dignified indeed, with a rack of Friends slung from his shoulder, socked EBs stemmed firmly on the slippery volcanic tuff.

Rock climbing was brought into the fold of NZAC-related activities slowly and organically. In 2002 the club’s objectives (under clause 2a of the club rules) were amended and the words ‘rock climbing’ added.

But that just made it official; NZAC had been supporting and encouraging rock climbing for decades before that. NZAC is well placed to support rock climbing, and some great stuff has emerged as a result. A lot of climbers get their first taste of outdoor climbing at the Auckland Grammar School (AGS) Rockwall, and it’s thanks to Auckland Section volunteers’ drive and dedication in resolving access issues that the crag is open today. The NZAC National Youth Climbing Camp, held in Canterbury in January, saw 20 kids benefit from a full week of route, boulder and indoor climbing with Canterbury/Westland volunteers. But that’s just a couple of examples—I could go on.

It’s not that I want to discourage the customary derision and ridicule that mountaineers and rock climbers love to bestow on each other, but the reality is that you bunch of bloccers and mountain trompers are not as different from each other as you might think!

Almost all the mountaineers I know also go rock climbing. In fact, just last night I caught 2012 Alpinist of the Year Steve Fortune in the bouldering room at the gym, covered in chalk and working on the blue circuit. And all the sport climbers I know love and appreciate being in the mountains—every Monday morning, my Facebook newsfeed is filled with pictures of flowering daisies at Flock Hill, or a big-sky view of Fiordland from a Cleddau crag.

Just to be clear here, there’s nothing ‘alpine’ about an afternoon spent cranking at Mt Eden. But there is adventure as well as sport to be found there. And this is where I think a fundamental dividing line can be drawn.

So, to restore some contention, and to make up for undermining the old rock vs alpine paradigm, I’ll make a sweeping generalisation: I think climbers in New Zealand fall into two categories: those looking mainly for adventure, and those looking mainly for sport.

By ‘sport,’ I mean having an athletic approach—it all comes down to doing moves. That’s why sport climbers and boulderers get out of bed.

It’s for the drive-bys and cyphers. My apologies if I’m pointing out the obvious here, but sport climbing and bouldering are the same thing.

Yes, we apply definitions, by way of separate grading systems, and means of protection. But whether you fall off onto a pad or a rope is pretty much irrelevant. Sport climbing and bouldering are all about the 8

THE CLIMBER ISSUE 87, AUTUMN 2014

climbing, not the falling.

On the other hand, adventure-seeking climbers are all about the 24-hour experience, from waking up in your bivvy bag (either on the lakefront at Kawakawa or halfway up the Balfour Rib), all the way through to cranking the MSR at the end of a long day. Particular moves will soon be forgotten, but the exhilaration of committing to an exposed traverse or the sweeping view from a belay ledge are memories that will stay with you.

While I think the core motivations of those two types of climber are quite different, one cool thing is that you’ll find both of them at the AGS Rockwall.

Another cool thing is that the ‘sport’ and ‘adventure’ approaches can be combined. I think this is what John Palmer was getting at in his recent article about highball bouldering (see Axes of Evil, issue 85).

It’s an uncommon sort of achievement—to commit to low-percentage climbing in a high-consequence scenario. It’s also very rare to combine and apply the sport and adventure ethe to hard onsighting in the mountains. There is a massive difference between setting out on a climb that you know will be below your true physical limit, and committing to a lead or a highball that requires you to relinquish control.

When this approach is embraced, some very special achievements can occur. In my opinion, some of the most impressive and under-recognised climbs by New Zealanders in recent years are Zac Orme’s FAs of Horsemen of the Apocolyse (V10) and Seduce and Destroy (V11), at Flock Hill, and Daniel Joll’s onsight ascent of the North Couloir Direct on the Dru. To regular climbers like you and me, it’s hard to attribute much meaning to the big grades. What’s the difference, really, between an M8 and an M9? Or a V10 and a V11? I don’t know, it’s all just numbers. But I do know you can’t grovel up ten metres of V11 climbing on Flock Hill limestone, or tramp your way up 200 metres of M8 climbing on a big north face in the Alps in winter. You’re going to have to do moves, you’re going to get tired, and you might fall off. The difficulty in combining the headspace, technique, strength and skill to pull off each of those climbs makes them very, very fine achievements.

Yet Zac and Dan’s ascents were buried fairly deep in our news reporting in the print editions of The Climber, because they weren’t easily quantifiable according to our usual criteria for ‘significance’. So we’ve re-thought our strategy for reporting news in The Climber a little: We think publishing news online is a better way to disseminate information, and the news department of a print magazine should be more about recognising and celebrating achievements. In this issue, we’ve compiled a selection of some of the more significant climbing events, and delved a little deeper into the particulars of each. For all the details of new routes and area developments that didn’t make it into this issue, check out climber.co.nz and climbnz.org.nz.

–Kester Brown

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EXPOSURE

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THE CLIMBER ISSUE 87, AUTUMN 2014

TE PUOHO

TE PUOHO-O-TE-RANGI was the famous North Island warrior chief of Ngati Tama. After invading Ngai Tahu settlements in Otago and Southland, he was killed in battle at Tuturau, in Southland, by a war party led by Tuhawaiki, in allegiance with chiefs Taiaroa and Karetai.

Te Puoho Glacier was named by Lindsay Stewart and friends in 1936. (The name was officially recognised by the New Zealand Geographic Board in 1948.) Stewart’s party approached the region from upper Moraine Creek via the Korako Ledges and went on to climb and name Mts Revelation and Taiaroa. (They also named Karetai and Te Wera on this trip, and Stewart returned to climb these the following summer.) Later in the same summer (February, 1937), Alex Dickie and James Speden climbed and named Tuhawaiki.

Of the naming of the glacier, Stewart wrote: ‘Chief Tutoko might well be surrounded by his satellite chiefs, but apparently he had none, so we had to range further abroad. Hence, Te Puoho […] is commemorated in the largest glacier, while in triumph over his prostrate body proudly tower his conquerors, Karetai and Taiaroa.’

The favoured approach by climbers to Te Puoho Glacier these days is via Rainbow Lake and Boulder Basin. One day of relatively easy travel (for the Darrans) from the Hollyford is required to reach the terminal lake of the glacier. This is a great place to camp and offers a variety of options for alpine rock climbers. The area has proved popular recently—roughly 15 new routes have sprung up on the clean, compact granite features surrounding the glacier over the last two summers. Most routes have short approaches and walk-off or single-abseil descents, and there is great variety in the length and difficulty of available climbs.

Here, Stephen Skelton gets started on the first ascent of The Little Hard Climb (22), on the Petit Dur, a beautiful, steep four-pitch outing overlooking the lake and camp.

PHOTO: TROY MATTINGLEY

THE CLIMBER ISSUE 87, AUTUMN 2014

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EXPOSURE

STOLEN MOMENTS A silver sea and sinking sun Running down the beach Plunging through the stream Chest high today But the fire burns strong within Warm-up climbs waste precious time Finally back onto old friends Familiar moves seduce me once again

MIKE ROCKELL’S poem Stolen Moments first appeared in Phil Castle’s 1997 Baring Head climbing guide. Many Wellington climbers of Mike and Phil’s generation were familiar with the moves on the collection of classic problems on the Only The Good Die Young Wall. Rob Gray was arguably the master of this wall. After climbing every problem dozens of times, he invented the Figure 8. After shaking the sand out of his Ninjas, Rob would spend hours happily doing circular laps all over the wall, such that he now knows every single hold intimately.

Phil wrote about his affinity for the wall in his introduction to its chapter in the guide: ‘To me the epitome of the classic Baring Head experience is being alone at Baring Head on a stormy day with a wild sea surging in below you, shakily committing yourself to the final thin moves of the Direct. Magic; what climbing is all about.’

The climbing on this wall is notoriously difficult to photograph. The dark rock is always at least partially shaded, the bulk of the boulder opposite forms an obstacle to typically good angles and the wall is well and truly out of fashion with ‘modern’ climbers. John Palmer overcame those barriers with this self-portrait on Tendon Tearer (V3). Balancing his tripod (with camera and intervalometer) on a small ledge, he prayed for no gusts of wind as he raced up the problem—six times in total as his flash and trigger often refused to fire. To add to the drama, during the shoot a rogue wave swept up the corridor and John just managed to save his spare kit from being drowned, which was sitting on the sand below. Fortunately, it all came together just as the sun dipped below the horizon. A magic moment on this classic wall, stolen from the sea.

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THE CLIMBER ISSUE 87, AUTUMN 2014

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CLIMBING NEWS AND EVENTS

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THE CLIMBER ISSUE 87, AUTUMN 2014

NEW ZEALAND ALPINE TEAM 2013 PATAGONIA EXPEDITION Last December, Jono Clarke, Steve Fortune and Daniel Joll went on an expedition to Argentina to climb in Fitz Roy National Park. The team’s primary goals were routes on Cerro Torre and Torre Egger, but the weather was not as accommodating as the El Chalten locals. Jono sent us this report: SOON AFTER arriving in El Chalten (which as far as any of us could tell is a paradise for friendly roaming dogs) we moved all our climbing gear 20 kilometres up the Torre Valley. This site, Noruegos, was on a solidish moraine wall at about 1400m and was the base for all our climbing in the area.

First up we made an attempt on Torre Egger which, with its long technical climbs, is generally regarded as the hardest mountain to climb in the region. The rock route we attempted, on the eastern side, was covered in slushy, melting ice which complicated attempts at rock or ice climbing it. We retreated in warm temperatures as the difficulty-to-protection ratio of the mixed climbing grew larger and larger. We settled with a nice ten-pitch rock climb on Medi Luna, with climbing up to grade 6c (about 22), before heading back to town to avoid the impending weather and to restock our stomachs with empanada.

With the short weather windows and long periods of windy and rainy conditions in the hills, we completed the 20-kilometre walk to Noruegos Bivvy about four or five times. Between trips, the weather was usually fine enough to sample some of the pretty good bouldering and sport climbing around the El Chalten village.

Our second mission was a successful climb of Cerro Stanhardt (2900m), which is near Cerro Torre. First climbed in 1988, it involved a great combination of mixed and rock climbing approach to an excellent ice couloir, some 300 metres high, of steep ice, of around WI5/6 difficulty. We were hassled by continual falling rime and a rapidly closing weather window. We summitted on an easy ice mushroom, but an envelope of cloud forced us to guess what the view was like, and by the time we were doing the multiple-abseils descent we were being rained and sleeted on.

It was great to snatch a technical summit by moving efficiently in a tight timeframe. Daniel also introduced our trip philosophy from his past experiences of missed Patagonian summits: to climb until we are physically turned back by weather or conditions.

Next we made an attempt on Cerro Torre (3100m) in another period of unsettled weather.

We made a long approach up over Stanhardt Col and down onto the Patagonian Ice Cap in Chile before attempting the Ragni Route—the easiest way up the mountain. The climb involved a lot of moderate to steep alpine ice climbing on the approach, to some crazy snow mushrooms.

Unfortunately we were thwarted by high wind and cloud just a few hundred metres from the top. Those last metres include the hardest climbing on the route, with more steep ice and the famous and feared summit mushroom of overhanging snow, which can take six to eight hours to ascend 50 metres! We retreated back to the ice cap but then had to reclimb back over Stanhardt Col to get to our bivvy. We ended up completing about 3000 vertical metres in a day!

The next day Daniel and Steve climbed a great ten-pitch rock route on El Mocho while I nursed an injured knee.

About ten days of bad weather ensued, and there was a noticeable drop in temperature. It snowed in El Chalten (400m) and about 40cm of fresh snow was dumped on the Torre Range. This effectively ended any chance for more attempts on Cerro Torre or Torre Egger as the new temps created ice climbs and heavily rimed rock. We had time for just one more trip and we turned our attention to Fitz Roy (3500m), across the valley from the Torre group and the highest mountain in the area. It hadn't been on our hit list but it was the logical objective, considering the circumstances.

We aimed for the Supercanaleta route, a famous objective for Patagonian climbers. It involves a long approach, 1000 metres of soloing in a 50- to 60-degree ice couloir and then 20 pitches of rock climbing. From Noruegos via the valley floor we climbed a 700-metre exposed snow ramp and dropped down to the base of the 'Supercan'.

It was desperately cold and we wore our down jackets and synthetic belay jackets as we attempted to bivvy at the base of the route. We eventually gave up because Daniel’s teeth were chattering together so loudly.

We set off up the ice gully and got blown around by strong wind and hit by small ice pellets of misery. We left the couloir too soon at the end and accidently added two pitches of M6 chimney climbing, skillfully led by Steve, before we got back to the gully to start the technical section proper. The route is usually a rock climb from that point, but we were faced with hours of mixed climbing before we summitted at 11.00pm to an indescribably beautiful view. Ten hours and 30 abseils later we were back at the base of the Supercan and only had to make the massive trip back to our bivvy and then to town.

By the time we got to El Chalten we had been going for 62 hours and had been having hallucinatory visions of scorpions. We were welcomed back by all of the township’s dogs howling, like they had been rehearsing for our return.

Our time was up and we had made the most of the steep, technical and committing climbs of Patagonia, which is undoubtedly one of the best climbing areas in the world.

PHOTO Steve Fortune high on the Supercanaleta, Fitz Roy. DANIEL JOLL

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A RECORDED ASCENT

Aerial view of Mt Burns. The North West Ridge is the prominent foreground feature, running left to right from the valley floor to the summit. SIMON COX

A week before Christmas, Rob Frost and Kieran Parsons set off from the Karangarua Bridge on the West Coast with the aim of making the first ascent of the North West Ridge of Mt Burns (2746m), an objective profiled by Rob in his article on unclimbed moderate mountain routes in a recent issue of The Climber (see ‘No Recorded Ascent’, issue 85). Rob gave us this report: OUR WEATHER window for Burns was marginal, but we knew that others also had their sights on the ridge, so it was ‘now or never!’

The climb begins in the upper Landsborough Valley, an area known for its inaccessibility. Climbers have usually approached the head of the Landsborough via Barron Saddle and the Spence Glacier. We decided to approach from the west for several reasons. We’d heard that the track up the Karangarua had recently been re-cut, a direct route off Karangarua Saddle had recently been re-discovered, the tramping approach can be done in marginal weather (unlike the Barron Saddle route, which needs good weather conditions) and most importantly, by finishing at Mt Cook Village, we would achieve a satisfying west to east crossing of the divide.

The Karangarua Valley track was in such good condition that we got to Christmas Flat Hut in 11 hours. By early afternoon the following day we were at our bivvy in the upper Landsborough. It was a strange but special feeling to be in such an isolated place after expending such little effort.

We began climbing towards the ridge on 20 December, under clear skies and a nearly-full moon, and at dawn enjoyed magnificent views of the Hooker Range, McGloin, the Douglas Valley, the Sierra Range, Sefton, Thomson and Isabel.

We’d expected the serrated rock crest of the upper ridge—with three prominent steps—to be the crux of the route, but just below the first rock step we discovered a snow slope on the north side of the ridge which appeared to offer an easy route all the way around the rock steps. This was partly disappointing, as the ridge crest itself would have made an impressive climb. A nor’wester was forecast to develop that afternoon however, so we decided to take the fast route and abseiled 20 metres onto the snow slope.

The snow on the sidle around the third step was steep and soft, so we pulled the rope out for three pitches, following along the base of the rock for protection. We regained the ridge crest • Each of us had a 45-litre pack, a three-season just above the third step at noon, then travelled along an awesome snow arête, which was sleeping bag, a foam mattress, warm clothing, exposed but easy, towards the summit. This was the best part of the day for me—it was an a first aid kit and PLB, a harness, rock shoes, incredible place to be and the climb was in the bag. drink bottles (two-litre capacity) and a camera.

We summited at 1.00pm and spent 40 minutes on top, then the cloud came in and the wind • For group gear and food, we had a bothy bag, picked up as we traversed towards Vampire and checked out the slope below Bernard Col to a 50m x 9mm rope, a Jetboil, two 100g gas the Welchman Glacier. That looked intimidating, so we began our descent 250 metres further canisters, Backcountry meals, standard snack/ north, where the distance to the glacier was less. We abseiled over a monster schrund at the lunch foods, a few energy gels and a map. top of the Welchman, then negotiated some straightforward crevasses to reach Barron Saddle • Our rock rack comprised a complete set of Hut by 8.00pm, just in time for the storm! wires, cams up to size 1, five knifeblade Time passed quickly the following day as we rested whilst waiting out the nor’wester, then pitons, three angle pitons, two hexes and six it was a day of blue skies and sunshine for the walk out down the Mueller Glacier and up past extendable quickdraws. The pitons were parMueller Hut to Mt Cook Village. ticularly useful.

Overall, we had a very satisfying trans-alpine journey, one that highlighted what a special place • We didn’t use the bothy bag, first aid kit, PLB, New Zealand is for mountaineering. We think the fast approach to the upper Landsborough via rock shoes or the large sizes of rock gear.

Karangarua Saddle is going to be a game changer for future climbs in the area. The direct route between the saddle and the Landsborough is described in Moir’s Guide North.

NOTES

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MILLS INTEGRAL AFTER PREVIOUSLY being thwarted three times by bad weather or a lack of time to complete the climb, Southland mountaineer Stanley Mulvany successfully climbed the South Ridge of Mills Peak in Fiordland with Paula Macfarlane and Reece Mackenzie on 22–24 November 2013.

The party left Milford Sound at 7.00am, tramping on a rough track up the Bowen Valley and pushing on up through thick bush to the ridgeline near 600m. They gained a vertical step before setting up camp at 900m in the shade and taking in spectacular views down to Milford Sound.

After refuelling and stocking up on precious water, the party headed up the ridge through bush to some big boulders and a nice, flat, scenic area that Stanley called ‘the balcony.’ Further up the ridge, the party dropped down to a saddle amidst thick scrub and then moved onto an exposed, narrow ridgeline to summit Cascade Peak. From Cascade Peak, the party walked along a broad ridge and traced a game trail to a dip in the ridge (at 1140m), where they set up their second camp.

After a chilly night under a tent fly, Paula, Reece and Stanley set off

Looking back down the South Ridge from high on Mills Peak. STANLEY MULVANY

on yet another clear day, descending to a narrow ridge of scrub and tussock. Paula then led the party up a step to the rock ridge and then onto an arête. After some investigation, they decided to downclimb a face to a big shelf to the right of the ridge, and headed towards a boulder field. There, an exposed gully led to a col on the eastern side of the ridge, which they chose to forgo in favour of sidling back up to the ridge for some easy scrambling, before Reece led up to another big step. The party carried on and after much scrambling they attained the final snowfields and headed up to the low peak (1815m) and onto the final summit (1825m), before heading back to camp.

The party descended back along the ridge to the rock arête, where they abseiled down the face and then carefully soloed down to a tussock ridge for another abseil down a rock pillar. Stan led another pitch along a rock arête au cheval, with Reece then leading to an awkward step down towards Cascade Peak. The next day, they descended back along the ridge to Milford Sound, just beating the afternoon rain.

–Polly Camber

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HYDROPLANING (34) MARK PUGH-WILLIAMS SETS A NEW BENCHMARK

Mark at the Cave. LEE HOWELL

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The last time a new grade was introduced to New Zealand was in 2007, with the first ascent of Kaz’s Project (33) at the Cave in Christchurch. Now the Cave has again been the venue for a jump in standards. Mark Pugh-Williams’s first ascent of Hydroplaning signals the first time a grade 34 has ever been climbed by a New Zealander. While the route is essentially a link-up, it is a fairly proud line and includes some brutally hard climbing. We caught up with Mark shortly after his take-down of this longstanding project.

So, Mark, you’re still finding new routes to climb at the Cave. Is that place not climbed out?

‘Finding new routes’ is maybe not the best way of putting it—maybe attempting silly link-ups would be better. It’s kind of like flogging a dead horse that sometimes stands up, then promptly falls back down again, to which we all scream, ‘New climb! It has no new moves but it has a different clip!’ Maybe the Cave is a tad climbed out.

Can you describe the line of Hydroplaning?

Hydroplaning is a unique link-up of a few hard climbs, but is still a proper direct line. It starts on Troglodyte (30), and goes up the first three clips of that, before firing straight up through a small piece of relatively unclimbed rock into the crux of Kaz’s Project (33). After doing that crux you rest on some miserable slopers and a heinous pinch for exactly two shake-outs of each arm. Then you do a tricky wee traverse on some average holds—including a weird drop-down move—rightwards into the crux of Bukujutsu (32) and finish up that and into the top of Bogus Machismo (29).

In an interview in 2012 (see climber.co.nz/80/feature/mpw), you said the Cave was your favourite place to climb. Is that still the case?

Maybe. I’m not too sure now. I have a kind of love/hate relationship with the place. I love climbing there, but have kind of climbed the place out a tad. It’s most likely Flock Hill now.

What’s the style of Hydroplaning? Did it require you to develop any particular or unusual strengths or techniques?

Power endurance, that’s the best way to describe it. I could always do all of the moves individually, but getting good links was another story entirely. I had to make large gains in my power endurance but I think that the biggest thing that I had to learn was to listen to my body. Because of the style of the route and my morbid obesity, getting a proper rest that I could feel any type of recovery on was difficult. It took me a while to be able to tell if I was recovered enough to keep moving at each rest, but I eventually could tell, sort of.

point, or whether or not I do it. Then I’d relax, and enjoy the climb for itself. This would be followed by a breakthrough, then pressure, rinse and repeat.

What made you decide to try to redpoint this line? Did you just try it and think ‘Yup, I can climb this thing,’ or did you have to train specifically for it?

Why not? I think that was my reason. I think everything is possible, it is just a question of time, which I seem to have a lot of. I had to train for it a fair bit. I trained power endurance and watched my diet. But I believe that the most important training was what I did mentally—not psyching myself out.

What was the factor that brought you success on the day?

Having a girl watch me. That and being ready to send it. I had been eating well, resting well, training well. It was on. There was no question of ‘Am I going to do it?’ I just climbed.

Where does the name come from?

I had been working it for a long time, and was working on it during the America’s Cup. The Cave is quite prone to seepage, so I spent a few sessions climbing the route scuba-style. All that and I think the only way I could climb it was to move fast and not touch the holds too much—sort of like hydroplaning.

Three reasons! Nice. You’re currently managing Uprising, the Christchurch-based climbing hold manufacturing business. Did Sefton (the owner) make you cut your dreads off to look more presentable to clients?

Yeah, he is a ruthless boss, double overtime, no pay. But to be honest, I don’t think that I would have been able to send Hydroplaning as quickly as I did without working for Uprising, as I could mould (excuse the pun) work and climbing around each other.

My dreads were cut off in a futile attempt to lose weight on the route—but I lost only 300 grams. Pitiful. So I went on a diet and lost 5kgs for the climb instead.

Do you think, overall, the route suits your strengths?

I think one of my strengths is the Cave style. I had done all the individual lines before, but the entire route was a large notch above my ability when I started trying it.

I know you’re a pretty laid-back and modest bloke. But being the first Kiwi to climb grade 34 is a pretty great achievement. How does it feel? Do you have groupies now (besides middle-aged climbing mag editors).

How long did you work on the route before sending?

I know it sounds cliché, but grades are just a number to me. I was just so psyched to do something at my limit, and to work on it for so long was just such an awesome experience. As for groupies—none at the moment, but all are welcome.

I first had a look at it after I had done Kaz’s Project, and tried it intermittently for a few months. After a few burns on it with some goodish links, I started trying it more seriously. I don’t really document any of my climbing, so it is hard for me to say exactly how long, but roughly for about a year and a half. Maybe two years.

How did you find the process of working on a route for so long?

Infuriatingly awesome! For me, working on a climb that was far beyond my current level was rad. It is a pity this involves a lot of falling off. It was fun at the start, just trying it with no stress, but when I started coming close, the real mind games started. I would go through a seemingly endless cycle of making a small breakthough and then being insanely psyched. That would be followed by me realising that I was a tiny bit closer, so maybe next go would be the send. Then I would put a lot of perceived pressure on myself to climb it, which inevitably would result in me not even getting anywhere near my previous high point. Then I would tell myself that it doesn’t matter about the high

The other day I read a post on Joe Kinder’s Instagram feed where he said, ‘Life’s great when you got a proj!’ So what’s next for you? Do you have another project lined up, or are you taking a break from redpointing for a bit?

I’m having a bit of a break. I’m going to boulder heaps this season and just have some fun climbing. I’m not sure when the psyche will return for redpointing, I’ll just have to wait and see. I might even partake in some life projecting (studying), but I’m not sure.

Shout outs?

I would like to thank all those who spent hours of their time belaying me on the climb, without you I would have fallen to my death and/or achieved grievous bodily injury. Chur!

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CLIMBING NEWS AND EVENTS

PATI NOSO Wiz on Pati Noso (8c+/34), at El Pati Sector, Siurana, Spain. HARRY LARKINS

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Wiz Fineron has spent the last year on the road in Australia and Europe, sampling the delights of some of the world’s best sport climbing areas. Recently, he’s been in Spain, where he dedicated some time to sending his most difficult route to date. Pati Noso (8c+/34) is a 40-metre endurance route on the famous El Pati sector at Siurana. The route was originally considered hard 8c (33), before two key holds broke, bumping the grade to low-end 8c+. This is the second grade 34 climbed by a Kiwi (after Mark Pugh-Williams’ ascent of Hydroplaning, climbed just weeks earlier). Wiz took the time to answer a few questions about his ascent for The Climber.

Hi Wiz, thanks for taking the time to talk a little about your recent climbing and travels. And congrats on sending Pati Noso, can you give us an idea of the style of the route?

Pati Noso is around 40 metres long—one of the longest on the El Pati Wall—so it is definitely an endurance route! I got very pumped!

The whole route consists of a lot of technical moves between small crimps on a gently overhanging wall of good orange rock, split with two definite cruxes. The first is at about one-third height. A powerful dynamic move with some very high feet to a pretty good flat hold.

Unfortunately, it’s not quite big enough to rest on, so from there you just have to keep on trucking through some slightly easier ground on pretty small crimps. At about two-thirds height there is an okay rest where it is crucial to take your time and recover as much as possible.

From there you pull straight in to the second crux on some long moves on slightly painful crimpy sidepulls, setting you up for the final hard move. With a high left foot and a bad left-hand crimp, you have to get your weight over your foot and pop over with your right hand to an okay sloper. Here there is a pretty good rest, and then there is about five more clips to the chains but with much better holds. The top section was a little nerve-wracking because it is possible to fall off if you don’t know what you are doing. It’s a perfect route with a little bit of everything.

I know you worked on it for longer than you would usually spend on a route. What motivated you to take on a more difficult redpointing project?

Well, up until then I had found it really hard to settle down on a single route for days on end, especially since I had been travelling. There are so many good classic routes to do in Europe. At first my mindset was to just climb a lot and get used to the long pumpy style of Europe.

I knew I had plenty of time. I wouldn’t try anything unless I knew I would be able to do it in a few tries. I think this was good as I managed to get a lot of mileage in, get fit and really experience each area.

A few months in to my travels I was feeling endurance fit but not so strong on the power front. Something had to change and it was time to test myself and really see how hard I can climb at the moment.

A few weeks later I hooked up with a good friend of mine—Alex Megos—and for the following six weeks I stayed with him in Germany, training. Day after day, I would come back to the house a broken man after a brutal training session at the gym. The weather was absolutely terrible so there was no guilt about not climbing outside.

The next place I visited was Spain. This was to be to be the testing ground for me and I really wanted to find something that was hard and would inspire me to dedicate a lot of time to. After trying a bunch of climbs around the 8c+ grade, Pati Noso was the one I settled on.

What made you choose this particular route?

The moment I arrived in Siurana the first wall that made me go ‘wow’ was the El Pati sector. It just looked like the perfect wall for me. The routes on it are long, crimpy and gently overhanging, so I began searching for the line that I was really going to test myself on. Pati Noso was recommended to me so I thought, ‘Why not? I’ll give it a go.’ After checking it out I was psyched and decided I wasn’t leaving until I did it!

At first I was quite intimidated to climb on this wall as all the routes are so hard and there were so many strong guys around throwing themselves at some really hard routes.

I soon became comfortable and started to enjoy the redpointing process. Having people like Daniel Jung trying La Rambla over and over gave me that extra bit of psyche and strength to try that little bit harder on my project.

Did you have a strategy for redpointing the route? Any particular buildup or routine whilst projecting?

After the first few 'check out' goes I knew the moves and how to do them so I just had to start trying it from the start and begin gaining the necessary fitness to be able to do the route. It didn’t take me to long

to climb to the first crux, but being able to have enough energy when setting up for the throw and sticking it took many, many goes. Every two or three tries I made sure to try the rest of the route (instead of coming down and trying again from the start).

My strategy was to make sure that I had the top half dialed so when the time came and my fitness was there and I finally stuck the first throw, I would climb to the top. That was the plan, anyway. To build up to this I split the climb into sections. The first goal was to climb to the first crux as smoothly as possible, wasting as little energy as possible.

Then to stick the crux move while still being quite pumped (hanging on the rope for as little time as possible). Then to climb from the crux move to the top, proving to myself that when I finally did stick that move I was going to climb to the top. Being confident that this was going to happen was very important to me. Then the aim was to climb the route with only one fall. I managed to do this multiple times before the actual send. I learnt that patience is a key part of climbing at your limit, so I just had to wait for the right moment.

Do you think the grade is on the money for 8c+?

Grades have always been a bit of a puzzle for me but I think I would be confident to say yes. I have never climbed an 8c+ before so it’s hard to say, but compared to the 8cs I have done Pati Noso felt considerably harder and it really took everything I had at the time to get it done. No matter how hard it is, I learnt so much from the process and I am very excited to see how much further I can go. I definitely feel like I can do harder.

Can you tell us a little about what else you’ve been up to lately. What are the best crags you’ve visited in Europe? How many croissants have you eaten?

It’s almost been a year now since I left New Zealand and since then I have become a full-time climbing bum. Lately I’ve been travelling from one country to the next, following the good seasons to all of Europe's best crags. I started off in Australia and my first European stop was at Céüse. Then I moved on to the powerful Frankenjura. Next was the beautiful, sunny Greek island of Kalymnos. Then I returned to Germany for some plastic-pulling, and then I finally arrived in my dream destination of Spain. Now I am taking a little walk down memory lane in Llanberis, Wales. Out of all the different crags that I have visited in Europe, my favorite one is Siurana, in Spain. Australia is definitely still at the top of the best overall climbing destinations for me so far, though.

In terms of the amount of croissants I have eaten, I would have to say not that many. They cost money and I am far too much of a cheap-arse dirtbag to spend my money on some chocolate roll. The less money I spend on food, the more money I have to spend on the next flight.

What’s next? You gonna continue the road-tripping for a while? Or come home and give New Zealand its first 9a?

What's next? That is the story of my life at the moment—I barely know what I am doing tomorrow. It’s like being on a wild rollercoaster, just going with the flow and seeing what happens.

It’s not a bad way of living, I guess. I’m still pretty psyched on Europe at the moment, so I think I am going to make the most of it whilst I am here. There are still so many areas that I haven’t visited yet, so I think for the next little while I am going to continue country-hopping here in Europe.

Every now and then I see a new picture of some amazing looking climbing area in New Zealand and I start shaking with excitement. The amount of potential down there is amazing and it’s definitely high up on my list of places to get back to. In terms of an NZ 9a, I think that would be awesome but I definitely need to get stronger first, and I think the best place for that at the moment is here in Europe. I will definitely return one day soon though!

Wiz is sponsored by Five Ten, Rab and Spelean.

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SOUTHERN ALPS GUIDEBOOKS

Sophie Kennedy and Zoe Demeter skitouring in the Remarkables.

SCOTT KENNEDY

NEW CLINICS FOR THE 2014 REMARKABLES ICE AND MIXED FESTIVAL THIS YEAR will see the introduction of a backcountry ski workshop and a learning-to-lead clinic at the Remarkables Ice and Mixed Festival.

The overall goal of these clinics is to increase people’s confidence and safety margins when skiing and climbing in the backcounty.

The learning-to-lead clinic has proved popular and is already fully subscribed. There’s always next year!

But there are still places left on the skiing course, which will be run by legendary Kiwi backcountry skier Erik Bradshaw. Because it is the first time the skiing course has been run, there will be a questionnaire for participants so as to best target the course to skills people want to develop.

To join the course you don't need to be an amazing skier but it is important you can get around on skis efficiently. You don't need to be able to do beautiful turns, but being able to get down what skifields call ‘black diamond’ terrain is important, and you shoud have enough fitness to ski and climb more than 1000 metres.

Wherever you’re heading, we’ve got you covered. NZAC offer a complete set of seven climbing and backcountry guidebooks to the mountain ranges of the Southern Alps.

Purchase online at alpineclub.org.nz

A lpine Recreation T R E K

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C L I M B

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S K I

g Ice Climbin ll & Alpine a f r e t a W r Winte

E D R A H B M I CL

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Some • • • • • • • •

of the things we are looking at including are: Skiing techniques for ice, crusty snow and steep terrain How to ski with a heavy pack on How to navigate dangerous terrain and find the path of minimum risk Being efficient and comfortable with camping in the snow Managing yourself so you stay strong all day Decision making—making sure you return home alive!

Skills to make going up-hill easier Review of ski equipment and clothing

See iceandmixedfestival.co.nz for more details and to register.

NEW ZEALAND ALPINE CLUB

Photo: Gavin Lang

PHOTOGRAPHIC COMPETITION 2014

t included equipmen www.alpinerecreation.com 0800 006 096 | +64 3 680 6736 22

THE CLIMBER ISSUE 87, AUTUMN 2014

The NZAC Photographic Competition will open for entries on 14 April.

Check out competition judge Mark Watson’s article in this issue, ‘Eight Tips for Better Climbing Photos’ (page 42), for some advice and inspiration.

Go to alpineclub.org.nz/photocomp to make an online entry and to get the details on a new category for this year: Mountain Culture.

Entries close 30 June.

CLIMBING NEWS AND EVENTS

AUSTIN SIADAK

GUY MCKINNON

EXPEDITION FUND GRANTS

Graham Zimmerman (left) and Guy McKinnon (right).

KIWI PIOLET D’OR NOMINEES

THE PIOLETS D’OR Committee recently recognised Kiwi-American Graham Zimmerman and New Zealander Guy McKinnon in its preliminary list of the 2014 Piolet d'Or nominations, for their respective climbs of Mt Laurens (3052m) in the Alaska Range and Mt Tutoku (2746m) in the Darran Mountains.

Guy’s solo ascent of the 1900-metre West Face (VI, 4+) of Mt Tutoku in one day completed one of the great remaining mountaineering challenges in New Zealand. Of his nomination, Guy said: ‘I’m greatly honoured to make the preliminary list of the Piolet d’Ors 2014. I think it’s great news that amateur climbing in New Zealand has been recognised in this way. While I don’t expect to go much further, the result speaks to me that those who are active in our mountains can expect some recognition if they are prepared to maintain a strong code of ethics, both in their climbing and relationships with others, as well as a commitment to climbing in the best possible style. I’m proud to be part of a resurgence of alpinism in New Zealand and pay my respects to those who have inspired me in the past and the many enthusiastic outdoors people who are driving huge improvements at the moment’.

Graham and American Mark Allen’s ascent of the North East Buttress (V AI4, M7, A1) on the Mastadon Face of Mt Laurens made the final round of nominations for the Piolets D’Or. Graham and Mark climbed their route in a 67-hour push on 20–22 May, 2013. Graham and Mark had spotted the east face of Mt Laurens during the first ascent of Voyager Peak (3723m) in 2011. Prior to their ascent, little information was known about Mt Laurens and the peak had seen only one other ascent, in 1997.

Graham remarked that it was ‘a huge [honour] to be a finalist for the award.’ He said that ‘the biggest part of this process that provides me [with] satisfaction is that I felt our climb on the east face of Mt Laurens was a personal high point in my climbing, owing not only to the beautiful and difficult technical climbing encountered on route but also in terms [of the] exploratory nature of the mission, and the high level of style and ethics that we upheld on the climb […] We attempted the fairest means we know how: a team of two, moving fast, taking nothing and leaving nothing. We made decisions that allowed us to stay safe, climb hard and do something that we are really proud of. I feel like the fact that we have been chosen as finalists is representative of the Piolets D’Or committee recognising all of those elements of the trip and the climb.

And to have a crew of heavy-hitters like those on the committee this year tells us that they think we did a good job out there.’

The committee described the finalists as ‘ambassadors of alpinism, intended as a discipline concerned with respecting the mountains and those who live under them.’ The committee will present the Piolets D’Or to the finalists on 26–29 March 2014 in Chamonix and Courmayeur.

–Polly Camber

THE NZAC EXPEDITION FUND committee has recently announced the latest round of grants. Congratulations to: • Llewellyn Murdoch and Milo Gilmour, $800, objectives on Cerro Torre, Fitz Roy and Torre Egger, Patagonia.

• Paul and Shelley Hersey and John Price, $1800, first ascent of Anidesha Chuli or White Wave (6815m), north-east Nepal.

• Pat Deavoll and Chris Todd, $1200, new routes on Langua-tai-Barfi (7017m) and Shakawr (7116m), Hindu Kush, Pakistan.

• Graham Zimmerman (NZAC), with Clint Helander and Jens Holsen (USA), $600, technical unclimbed routes in the Revelation Range.

• Pete Harris and Ari Kingan, $600, Cassin Ridge, Denali, Alaska.

Thanks to all those NZAC members who donate to the NZAC Expedition Fund. If you are heading overseas for a climbing trip and your objectives fit the criteria, go ahead and submit an application. You never know your luck!

BOLTING/ACCESS FUND GRANTS THE CLIMBING/INSTRUCTION Committee has recently made several grants from the Bolting/Access Fund.

• The Wellington Section bolted and equipped a beginner’s instruction crag at Kinloch, Lake Taupo.

• John Palmer and Kristen Foley rebolted numerous routes at Whanganui Bay. • A group of Christchurch climbers are re-equipping the Cave with permanent fixed draws—a massive improvement in safety.

Again, this kind of activity is only possible when members donate to the Bolting/Access Fund.

Bolting/Access Fund grants tend to favour applications that include moderate routes and/or an improvement in safety. If you are spending a lot of your own money on bolting and you think your work is worthy, apply for funding.

KNOW BEFORE YOU GO

The Outdoor Safety

CODE 5

simple rules to help you stay safe:

Before you go into the outdoors, get familiar with New Zealand’s Outdoor Safety Code

1

Plan your trip

2

Tell someone

3

Be aware of the weather

4

Know your limits

5

Take sufficient supplies

For more information about how you can prepare for your outdoor activity, visit www.mountainsafety.org.nz

THE CLIMBER ISSUE 87, AUTUMN 2014

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THE CLIMBER NEW ZEALAND’S CLIMBING MAGAZINE

ISSUE 87, AUTUMN 2014 Editor Kester Brown kester@alpineclub.org.nz Sub-editor Nic Learmonth Design and Layout Kester Brown PHOTOS: KESTER BROWN AND SEFTON PRIESTLEY

Climbing News Editors Kester Brown and Polly Camber Gear Editor Graham Johnson NZAC News Sam Newton Proofing Nic Learmonth and Rachael Williams Printing Spectrum Print, Christchurch Musical Inspiration Unknown Mortal Orchestra – II Contributors John Allen, Garrett Bradley, Geoff Burton, Derek Cheng, Simon Cox, Pat Deavoll, Steven Fortune, Luke Hansen, Pete Harris, Danilo Hegg, Di Hooper, Charlie Hornsby, Lee Howell, Daniel Joll, Scott Kennedy, Harry Larkins, Hugh Logan, Christian Martin, Troy Mattingley, Guy McKinnon, Simon Middlemass, Ralph Miller, Colin Monteath, Stanley Mulvaney, Oyunbileg, John Palmer, Matt Pierson, Sefton Priestley, John Rundle, Austin Siadak, Snorre Sulheim, Alastair Walker, Mark Watson, Joshua Windsor.

NEW ZEALAND ALPINE CLUB

NZAC—we climb Our vision: NZAC champions the pursuit of climbing, enabling skilled and active adventurers.

We provide inspiration, information and seek to enable a vibrant climbing community.

Our core purpose is to foster and support climbing.

DISCLAIMER Material published in The Climber is obtained from a variety of sources. While all care is taken, neither The Climber nor the New Zealand Alpine Club nor any person acting on their behalf makes any warranty with respect to the accuracy, completeness, or usefulness of the information published nor assumes any liability with respect to the use of, or for damages arising from the use of, any information disclosed within this magazine.

© NEW ZEALAND ALPINE CLUB | ISSN 1174-216X

IN LATE January 2014, the NZAC National Youth Climbing Camp was held in Christchurch.

Some freakishly talented teen plastic-pullers congregated in Christchurch and were transitioned to real rock in the outdoors. These talented young upstarts had access to a week of training from some of the most experienced climbers and instructors in the country, all who generously offer their time as volunteers. Thanks Tony, John, John, Nic, Nick and Clayton.

Also the Christchurch based parents who offered billets.

You will be both saddened and relieved that the new benchmark for rock climbing is to be able to climb grade 28 when you are 13 years old. Adults can now justifiably give up on the sport and donate their rock gear to NZAC. (We will sell it on Trade Me or exchange it for an ice axe.)

We at the NZAC are proud to be able to support the camp, as transitioning young climbers from the indoors to real rock on crags is a key objective of ours. We are extremely grateful to the New Zealand Mountain Film Festival Charitable Trust for their generous donation towards the 2014 camp costs.

unwin@alpineclub.org.nz

THE CLIMBER climber@alpineclub.org.nz PO Box 786, Christchurch.

Unit 6, 6 Raycroft Street, Opawa, Christchurch. tel: (64) 03 377 7595 | fax: (64) 03 377 7594 climber.co.nz

NATIONAL YOUTH CLIMBING CAMP

(027) 5235360

Contributions are welcome THE CLIMBER is published by the New Zealand Alpine Club. We welcome contributions in the form of photography, features, short articles, news, reviews, comment and letters. Please get in touch if you’d like to submit some material—we are always keen to hear from potential contributors.

Contact us for payment rates.

CLOSE TO 100 people had a great day out at Castle Hill on Saturday 15 March at the world’s first Bouldergaine.

It was a real surprise to the organisers that several teams managed to complete the whole course and climb every boulder problem in the allocated three hours. The combination of running fitness, navigational skill, rock climbing strength and decision making has a strong appeal.

We look forward to running this event again next year. Thanks to our friends at the Peninsula and Plains Orienteering Club and all the volunteers for making the event a success.

Greg Hamilt and Steven Fortune completed the course in 1hr, 30min—the fastest time of any team. See nbs.org.nz for full results.

Aoraki / Mt Cook National Park

Subscription information Published quarterly. Copy deadlines 2014: Winter (88) 2 May ‘14, Spring (89) 6 August ‘14, Summer (90) 28 October ‘14. Autumn (91) 1 February ‘15. $9.95 per issue, $28.00 per year (incl. GST & NZ surface mail; overseas p&p at cost): subscriptions@alpineclub.org.nz

BOULDERGAINE

Unwin Lodge

Advertising enquiries Sefton Priestley tel: (64) 03 377 7595 e-mail: adverts@alpineclub.org.nz

Book a Winter Weekend with Family & Friends

Warm Bunkrooms

Cosy Wood Burner Hot Showers

SNORRE SULHEIM

CLIMBING NEWS AND EVENTS

NZAC DARRANS WINTER MEET 2014 NEW ZEALAND

ALPINE CLUB

EASTER ROCK CLIMBING

MEET 18-21 APRIL 2014

UNWIN LODGE Jane Morris climbing Javelin (17), at Sebastopol. KESTER BROWN

Applications for the Unwin Rock Climbing Meet 2014 are now open. Places are limited so don't miss out!

After the success of the inaugural meet, we are organising a four-day festival of rock climbing based at Unwin Lodge at Aoraki Mt Cook. The Sebastopol Bluffs have 79 routes established, up to 165 metres high, and are unparalleled in New Zealand for honing your multi-pitch rock techniques.

There will be guest speakers, movie nights, workshops and instructional courses.

Highlights include: • Multi-Pitch and Transitions Rock Course • Route Development and Bolting Course • A Day's Alpine Rock Ascent with Jane Morris • The Sebastopol Slabmaster Challenge This year the meet is being generously supported by Aspiring Enterprises Ltd. See alpineclub.org.nz to reserve your place on the meet.

A REGULAR and popular fixture in the NZAC calendar, the Southland Section is again organising its annual winter climbing meet, based, as always, at Homer Hut in the Darran Mountains.

Open to all, this year the meet is running 11–20 July. Registration of interest sooner rather than later would be appreciated. There is a practical limit to the number of people the hut, its facilities, and the immediate environment can handle in winter. For this reason, camping beside the hut is not an option during the meet. When we ask for confirmation closer to the time, space will be allocated on a first-come first-served basis.

Please note that the meet is not really suited to those with no winter experience. If in doubt, please contact Alastair by e-mail.

The meet provides an informal and sociable venue where climbers can get together, meet with new partners, perhaps climb in an area they have never visited, and exchange views and ideas on technique and ethics. You don’t need a climbing partner to come along—no one has ever had any trouble hooking up with one when down there. Don’t come expecting to climb only on ice. The Darrans is better for Scottish style mixed, and can be both technical and serious, but you best be mentally prepared for anything. Winter climbing in the Darrans is still young, but is on a par with the best on offer anywhere.

Going to Homer Hut is a natural choice, apart from being right beside the road, big and reasonably comfortable. The Darrans has it all: ‘roadside’ crags 300-metres high, huge unclimbed faces as big as anything else in New Zealand, and peaks waiting for a first winter ascent. What more could a climber ask for! Apart from the myriad of potential new routes, the established climbs are generally proving to be well worthwhile as well.

Daylight is a bit limited in July, but the weather is often better.

Conditions on the cliffs may be a bit less snowy, but will always be ‘interesting’. No matter what, there always seems to be a fair bit of climbing gets done, with the odd new route thrown in.

If you’re considering coming, you do need to be aware that the Darrans in winter can be a gnarly place, and you might have to wait out bad weather. The road can be blocked by avalanches. Bear in mind also that there is no nearby rescue team. Essentially, you have to take responsibility for yourself. But don’t let any of that put you off; it’s still the best winter climbing venue in the country.

For registration details and enquiries please contact Alastair Walker: mealluaine@yrless.co.nz

THE CLIMBER ISSUE 87, AUTUMN 2014

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2

0

1

4

NZAC would like to acknowledge the 12 members who have this year achieved 50 years membership with the New Zealand Alpine Club.

On behalf of the club, we’d like to say thank you for your long-standing commitment and contribution to NZAC. There have been many changes to the climbing and mountaineering scene over the past 50 years, and we have no doubt much will change over the next 50.

NZAC continues to evolve and develop so that we stay relevant to our members. At 123-years-old this year, we are in fine fettle and have many initiatives underway in areas such as instruction, online and social media communication, publications and of course our wonderful network of huts and lodges.

Every one of our members has a unique story to tell and we are constantly reminded just how special our club is and what it means to members and to the wider fraternity of climbers.

This year’s 50 year veterans are:

DAVID BLUNT (NELSON MARLBOROUGH) NEVILLE BONNINGTON (SOUTH CANTERBURY) GEOFF BURTON (AUCKLAND) GEORGE CADDIE

(CENTRAL NORTH ISLAND)

GRAEME CALVERT ALAN CAUSER JIM COWIE

(CANTERBURY WESTLAND)

(CANTERBURY WESTLAND)

JAMES FRATER

(AUCKLAND)

DAPHNE HINTON NEIL KANE

(CANTERBURY WESTLAND)

(WELLINGTON)

GREG MARTIN

(OVERSEAS)

JIM STRANG QSM 26

(SOUTH CANTERBURY)

THE CLIMBER ISSUE 87, AUTUMN 2014

(CANTERBURY WESTLAND)

Adams Col, Garden of Eden. PAINTING BY JOHN RUNDLE

N Z AC5 0- Y E AR- V ETERA N ME MBERS

Geoff at 66-years-old on the summit of Gokyo Ri (5370m) in 200 0.

Letter from a 50-year-vet Dear Margaret, Thank you so much for your letter of 28/1/14 advising me of 50 years of membership of NZAC. I can’t really say that I have been a top-notch climber but I have always enjoyed exploring and being in remote and wild places, not only in New Zealand, but on several trips to the Nepal Himalaya, Indian Himalaya, Garwhal Himalaya, Pakistan Hindu Kush, South America and Tibet.

It started when my father, who had been a keen tramper in his youth, took me, as a 15-year-old, to Ruapehu. We stayed in a cabin adjacent to the Chateaux and tramped from there to the crater lake and back—a long day for a 15-year-old. Two years later, with a cousin, we did a crossing from northwest Nelson to the West Coast via Graham Valley, the Karamea River and—after a bad navigational error—reached the West Coast, just south of Karamea.

In 1954 I joined the Alpine Sports Club (I’m still a member) and started going on a lot of tramping trips and trips into the mountains. I was lucky to fall under the influence of Dick Seddon (NZAC Life Member) and John Rowe, who were fit, tough characters and who put up with my youthful inexperience and helped me on my way. This led me into the Darrans, the Havelock branch of the Rangitata, Mt Cook and Kahurangi National Park, along with a lot of adventures in the North Island ranges, Ruapehu and Egmont.

I spent five days in foul weather along with four others in the Eric Bivvy on Agony Island in the Rangitata, and three days in a fierce nor’wester in the old Three Johns Hut, at the head of the Mueller, while the whole place shook violently and the guy wires sang like violin strings. This hut—built in a very exposed position—was blown off its foundations later, tragically taking three occupants with it.

Similarly, two nights in the old Gardiner Hut, again in a nor’wester, I had the top bunk and my companion said to me, ‘If the roof goes, you will be the first one to be sucked out!’ That did nothing to ensure a good night’s sleep!

In those days a climb to the old Malte Brun Hut was jokingly referred to as being a requirement to join NZAC. In 1966 I was involved in an accident in which two of my companions were blown off Mt Jellicoe, triggering what was then the biggest search and rescue ever mounted in New Zealand. The rescue took place form the head of the Hooker Valley via a crop-dusting helicopter from Timaru—an astonishing achievement.

My days in the outdoors came to an end in 1977. I had planned a trip to Thailand, Nepal, Tibet and Vietnam. But in Lhasa, Tibet, I had a heart attack and spent 12 days in the Lhasa Hospital—an experience I would not wish on anyone. I then had another eight days in a Hong Kong hospital and ten days in Auckland Hospital before having a quadruple bypass, which has left me with heart and lung damage.

So while the spirit is willing to be be back in the hills, the body is rather weak!

However, I have been very lucky to have been able to do all these things and to have enjoyed photography, as well as a life-long interest in geology and vulcanology (particularly in the activities of Ruapehu, Tongariro and Ngauruhoe) and learning about the rich diversity of New Zealand plant, tree and animal life.

I enjoy receiving The Climber and the NZAJ. I always read them cover to cover, and think the photography is superb, so keep up the good work!

Best wishes to you all, Yours sincerely, Geoff Burton

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I CLASSIC S KIW

THE

SHEILA FACE

By Kester Brown

PHOTO The High Peak of Aoraki and the upper part of the Sheila Face, viewed from the north-west.

COLIN MONTEATH/HEDGEHOG HOUSE

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P

rior to the 1970s, the Sheila Face was most commonly referred to as the North West Face of Mt Cook. By the time of the second ascent of the face (in 1971), that title was superseded by the slightly less prosaic ‘Sheila Face’.

The Sheila was named after the glacier over which the face presides, which in turn was named by the Reverend W Green, in the early 1880s, after his daughter. His other two daughters were Caroline and Noeline, his wife was Linda.

Given its formidable mass (the face contains 800–900m of vertical height gain) and striking architecture—and the fact that its pyramidal bulk carries the high peak of Aoraki—the Sheila should be an iconic face. Yet it rarely graces the lids of biscuit tins or appears in a glossy calendars in all its glory. It’s tucked in at the head of the Hooker Valley, closeted

by Mts Hicks and Dampier, to the north. Unless you’re climbing one of the surrounding peaks, or in an aircraft, it’s hard to get a good photo of any but the top section of the face. No tour bus park or chalet window affords a decent view of it. And so the Sheila remains enigmatic: important to climbers, a massive obscurity to anyone else.

Peter Gough (left) and Bill Denz (right).

The Left Buttress

ABOVE Austin Brookes and Ron Dickie on the first ascent of the Sheila Face.

RALPH MILLER

The Central Buttress The Sheila was first climbed on 2 January 1967 by Austin Brookes, Ron Dickie and Ralph Miller. This trio displayed exceptional form by aiming not for the line of least resistance, but for what they thought was the best feature—the Central Buttress. It would have been tempting to choose a line more likely to offer success on this major, unclimbed face on our highest mountain. But Austin, Ron and Ralph thought that would not befit their goal. Ralph wrote in the 1967 NZAJ: ‘We sought an elegant, direct route, one worthy of the last unclimbed face on the High Peak’.

The party endured one bivouac near the top of the buttress, before continuing to the summit the next morning and thence down the Linda Glacier Route to Plateau Hut, relieving two fellows they met halfway down of some canned beer!

The second ascent of the face was made by Paul Coradine and Jim Strang in January 1971, by more or less the same route. Paul and Jim moved quickly, avoiding a bivvy and arriving at Plateau Hut after a total of 18 hours ex-Empress.

The Central Buttress has become the ‘standard’ route on the face and has now had more ascents than any other.

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The second new route completed on the Sheila Face was the Left Buttress, by Bill Denz and Peter Gough in 1973.

Interestingly, Denz and Gough chose winter to ascend this rock buttress. This was a significant departure in conventional thinking for the time, and it was the first major alpine rock route to be climbed in winter in New Zealand.

The pair set a good pace considering the challenges of climbing ice and snowcovered rock in sub-zero temps. They bivvied mid-way on the route, but that was after getting three pitches up a new line on the south face of Mt Hicks that morning. After abandoning the Hicks attempt they started up the Sheila at 10.00am.

Denz and Gough topped out at 2.00pm the following day, after climbing a total of 30 pitches. They then completed a Grand Traverse, returning to Empress Hut that evening.

Gough reported sub-par quality rock, which contributed somewhat to him suffering frostbite on the first day.

He wrote in the 1972–73 Canterbury Mountaineer: ‘One pitch I really remember was a sequence of six or so pull-ups on rotten rock. I suspect that it was only the ice in the cracks that held it together. It took me over an hour to lead this pitch and it was so hard, I needed to keep my mittens off.’

1

2

A B

STEVEN FORTUNE

3 4

The Sheila Face 1 The Left Buttress

A

Hi Viz

2 The Central Buttress

B

Riechlin Route

3 The Grand Central Pillar 4 The Right Buttress The Sheila can be broken down into three main features: a left-hand buttress, a central buttress and a right-hand buttress. Each one is not a single feature but a complex of features.

The lines ascribed in the topo here are very rough estimations of first ascent routes. By the nature of the rock and the glaciated access to the face, many variations exist on each complex. It’s unlikely many parties have followed precisely the same line.

Then there are the gullies between the buttress complexes (A and B), which follow more obvious and pronounced snow and ice leads.

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The Right Buttress The Right Buttress was the last of the three major complexes to see an ascent. It was November 1974 when Hugh Logan and David Pluth ticked off the next most obvious remaining challenge on the face.

Subsequent ascents have mostly followed a steeper line, slightly to the left, on the crest of the buttress. This left-hand variant was first climbed by Bill Atkinson and Pascal Sprungli in 1980.

In 1989 Bill McLeod and Simon Middlemass climbed the left-hand line on the buttress for the route’s first winter ascent.

Logan must have been impressed with the face as he returned the following year with Ian ‘Ptortoise’ Patterson to climb the Central Buttress.

Ptortoise was less enthusiastic about the quality of the climbing, he wrote in the 1975 NZAJ: ‘There was not much of a good line to our climb, we just followed a big, broken buttress, heading generally up, ice and snow everywhere.’

LEFT TOP Bill McLeod on the first winter ascent of the Right Buttress, in 1989.

SIMON MIDDLEMASS

LEFT BOTTOM Ian ‘Ptortoise’ Paterson on the Central Buttress, 1975. HUGH LOGAN

ABOVE Jane Morris, with the Sheila Face behind.

GUY MCKINNON

Solos The first solo of the Sheila was achieved

by Calum Hudson on 27 December 1980 in the remarkable time of three hours.

On the summit ridge he met up with Kim Logan (who had soloed the Hooker Face) and Marty Beare (who had soloed the East Ridge).

Just days after Hudson’s ascent, John Dale also soloed the Sheila in quick time.

While Hudson continued on to a Grand Traverse, Dale descended all the way to Mt Cook Village via Plateau Hut that same day.

Hudson and Dale’s climbs are particularly impressive when you consider that many ascents of the Sheila up to that point had taken two days!

The first winter solo of the face occurred when Bill McLeod headed up the Central Buttress alone in June 1986. Mcleod bivvied once on the route, then again at Porters Col before descending to Empress.

Notably, McLeod went on to make the first winter solo of the Caroline Face on the same trip.

In early 2013, Jane Morris revived the trend of fast summer solos. She went the long way around from the Hooker Valley roadend to Ball Shelter in 24 hours, climbing the Sheila on the way.

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The Grand Central Pillar In the winter of 1980, the eminent climbing forces of John Allen and Tobin Sorenson were paired up and an assault on the obvious righthand rampart of the Central Buttress was launched.

While some people will argue that this route is really just a variation on the Central Buttress complex, I think it is distinct enough to warrant an individual attribution. I’m less sure that the slightly grandiose moniker ‘Grand Central Pillar’ is appropriate. Nevertheless, it’s a fine line, and was climbed in good style.

After completing the climb, Allen and Sorenson made it across the Grand Traverse in the dark, before bivvying near the Low Peak.

Allen described the mixed climbing en-route as ‘absorbing, not too difficult and irritating’. He was much more taken with their position, describing the upper reaches of the face in the 1980 NZAJ as ‘a ridge crested with beautiful symmetry […] The panorama was vast. The rivers drained silver into the sea and the sun sprangled across its surface.

The winter sky burned with serenity.’

BELOW Tobin Sorenson near the top of the Sheila Face. JOHN ALLEN

ABOVE Peter Cammell on the headwall near the top of Hi Viz, during the first ascent in 1988. CHARLIE HORNSBY

The Gullies While the Left Buttress and Grand Central Pillar were both first climbed in winter, it wasn’t until the winter of 1988 that the first of the major gully lines was climbed.

Peter Cammell and Charlie Hornsby preferred the steep snow and ice of the major gully that bisects the Central Buttress to the verglassed rock climbing to be found on the crests of the buttresses in winter.

Hornsby describes the initial pitches as ‘not too difficult’ icy grooves with rock steps.

They bivvied near the top of the route and Hornsby says the best part of the route was climbing the final, steep ice headwall on the second day to arrive on the summit block.

On Queen’s Birthday weekend in 1993, Ardi Riechlin soloed the first ascent of the gully between the Grand Central Pillar and the Right Buttress. Tragically, upon completing the route, Riechlin was killed when he fell down the Hooker Face from the summit ridge.

The Future Observant readers who have got this far through this article will have surely noticed one very obvious omission from the photo-topo on the previous spread. There is a blue line missing from the gully/couloir between the left and central buttresses. This is a finelooking line that would make for a good winter challenge. The middle section looks as though it may contain some steeper climbing, compared to the other two major winter gully climbs on this face. How much longer will this route remain unclimbed?

Another great concept that has mooted recently amongst a certain crew of mountaineers is the potential for a good summer link-up of three north faces. Starting on the Balfour Glacier, the first challenge would be a route on either Magellan or Drake, then it would be on to the north face of Hicks before finishing with a climb of the Sheila. Doing this in a single push would be the ideal, but verglass, snow and avalanche conditions will dictate the timing of this proposition, rather than the condition of the climbers!

LEFT The Balfour and La Perouse Glaciers. Mts Magellan and Drake are on the left, Aoraki and Mt Hicks

on the right. DANILO HEGG

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Area developer Mike Dobie on the exit crux during the first free ascent of The Last Ninja (5.12).

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L

I

MING

TRAVELLING KIWI CLIMBER DEREK CHENG CHECKS OUT CHINA’S NEW TRAD CLIMBING MECCA PHOTOGRAPHS BY GARRETT BRADLEY

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‘Best sandstone crack in the world,’ proclaims the guidebook.

Brandon Gottung approaches the anchor on pitch two of Flying Buttress (5.11).

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Flying Buttress certainly looks the part—an imposing crack on a face that splits 40 metres up and then converges again for the overhanging final headwall. It lures you in with its beauty—it’s slim and so tall it seems to scratch the sky, and leans over you with equal doses of menace and charm.

A three-pitch line, Flying Buttress embodies everything that is magical about Li Ming, in southern China. The rock is a radiant red, and the line is as majestic as it is intimidating. It has the valley’s signature feature—a perfect crack with few, if any, other features. It also has an element of danger and adventure—the first pitch involves pulling on vines up a near-vertical wall, making you feel more like Tarzan, and leads to a delicate section of honeycomb features that look fragile and breakable.

THE CLIMBER ISSUE 87, AUTUMN 2014

The climb easily drew the attention of Canadian crack-crusher James Cherry, who quickly gained the ledge—without any Tarzan cries—and then pushed through the sequences that unlocked the second pitch: a thin hand-jam in the crack, sharp finger-locks to overcome a small roof, then wide hand-jams where the crack forked, leading to a ‘thank God’ ledge.

James had freed the pitch, but the placement of the top anchors begged the question: why has the route stopped here? Dragging a drill up to make an anchor higher up, James continued to the top by first lodging himself in an off-width. Above that, the crack narrowed and disappeared, with another crack emerging on the right and eventually splintered into a dramatic Y-shaped scar.

Fittingly, the crux of this 90-metre climb wasn’t until the final metres, where the line carved a single, finger-sized canal up the eversteepening face. It was as if the holy watchdogs of Li Ming had launched the most lethal onslaught on the final stretch of the route, to protect the area’s most sacred wall.

Even before he attempted it, James knew that he probably didn’t have the finger strength to free the final pitch—but that didn’t matter. After a month spent doing several first free ascents in Li Ming—the guidebook is littered with routes waiting to be freed— James decided to add this final pitch to Flying Buttress to give something back to the area.

It was to be an enduring addition to the best crack in the valley—and arguably the in the world—and it would wait for other crack fiends to do that first ascent.

China has hit the world-wide climbing circuit with popular destinations such as Yangshuo and Getu. And now Li Ming is commanding attention as the country’s premier trad climbing area.

Li Ming is part of Loajunshan National Park, in the scenic area of Yunnan Province, in south-west China. Li Ming is a quiet village four hours from the nearest city Li Jiang, and has a handful of eateries, shops and guesthouses, all dwarfed by massive sandstone cliffs that hug the skyline. The village is tranquil, except on Thursdays—market day—when everyone descends from the rural slopes to fill the streets with caged chickens, booties and mittens, fruit, dried penises from creatures great and small, and other necessities of life. At 2100m above sea level, Li Ming has fresh mountain air that is a refreshing change from the diesel fumes that permeate China’s car-clogged cities.

But the area didn’t look like much to American climber Mike Dobie when he first visited, at the invitation of a friend, to see if there was potential for climbing there. ‘I couldn’t see a whole lot of crack systems, and it was rainy season so it looked like a big jungle,’ Dobie recalls.

Development started on the coat-tails of a guiding company. The company’s founder invited Dobie to help

open up a crack that split the face of one cliff. As Dobie tells it, his friend started up the line but backed off when he came to some loose rock: ‘He sent me up, and I aided past the loose rock and put the first anchor in.’ The friendship eventually soured and the company failed, but Dobie’s interest had been piqued and he invited other developers—including Darryl Kralovic and Eben Farnworth—for a closer look.

That was in November 2010. Now there are over 180 lines and 231 pitches of trad climbing, most of them cracks, off-widths or chimneys. Many climbing visitors whisper comparisons to other world-class destinations such as Indian Creek, in Florida, US. Almost all the routes were established through ground-up efforts, which tend to unfold as epic drama-style first ascents. On the mega-classic multi-pitch route Back To The Primitive, Mike found himself in the unenviable position of being ten metres above a double-zero cam, and slipping on lichen as he hung on by his fingertips.

‘I was climbing into loose rock on a 5.11 and everything was falling off. It was absolutely terrifying.’

American climber Sarah Rasmussen, one of Dobie’s recruits, had a similar experience while putting up the access route to Pandora’s Ledge (5.11+). In Chinese climbing circles Sarah has a reputation for being ‘a badass’. On pitch two of the access route, she found herself in a flaring wide corner, with only a tiny dirt-filled crack for protection. She was madly plugging in wires while trying to inch her way up by smearing on walls of filth.

‘I placed another micro in that seam and, praying it would hold, I started working my way up this dirt-entrenched corner when I hear this “pop, pop, pop”—my last three wires popping,’ she remembers.

She whipped into the dirty abyss below.

‘I never freed that corner, but I’m okay with leaving the first free ascent open,’ she says.

The ‘dirty loose rock onsight’ approach, as Dobie calls it, has now given way to the less risky method of aiding to the top and leaving the first free ascent for another day. Li Ming is therefore unique: it’s an area full of clean, established lines, with bolted anchors, that are waiting for first free ascents.

Many lines fell last October, around the time of the inaugural Li Ming climbing festival. Among them were the second pitch of Flying Buttress (5.11+), The Last Ninja (5.12) and Japanese Cowboy (5.12).

The festival was also a chance for newbies, including yours truly, to lose their splitter crack virginity. A concerned friend warned me beforehand: off-width climbing, my friend told me, was recently declared the most painful and joyless activity of all-time, just ahead of crack climbing.

James Cherry on the final pitch of Flying Buttress. This pitch has yet to be freed. DEREK CHENG

‘unique Li Ming is a utopia;

it’s an area full of clean, established lines, with bolted anchors, that are waiting for first free ascents

‘

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ABOVE Mike Dobie on the first (aid) ascent of Iron Tusk (5.13). This line was not freed until over a month later.

BELOW Mike Dobie fighting through the crux of the Wild Man Variation Pitch (5.12+) on Back to the Primitive.

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‘

The euphoria of stacking hand-jams is hard to describe. You are holding on with your hands, but your hands aren’t holding on to anything but each other

‘

Sarah puts it more scientifically: ‘Crack climbing will see you pass quickly through the various stages of grief,’ she says.

Shock: ‘Holy shit! That crack just ripped my skin clean off! What the heck did I just get myself into?’

Denial: ‘Hell yeah! Skin or no skin, this crack is going down.’

Anger: ‘Screw this crack! Screw this gear!

This jam will hold! Where is that f***ing number three?’

Bargaining: ‘Please hold, please hold, please don’t spit me out. Let me stay. I love you. I want to be with you. You’re pretty. Just let me get one more piece of gear.’

Acceptance: ‘I am going to die. It is inevitable. Might as well go up.’

Our hands and feet are not designed to be inserted into sharp gaps between rocks and twisted violently until they gain traction—an activity that is usually accompanied by searing pain.

And a lot depends on the size of your hands. For me, number two cam-size cracks are bomber and make me feel like the greatest climber in the world, where all forms of rock cower before me.

Number one-size cracks however, can only be tamed by maniacally karate-chopping my hands into the crack with such force that some form of friction takes hold, while screaming: ‘Come on! Give me something! Anything!

Please!’

As for 0.75 cracks, nothing works. They’re too small for my hands and too big for fingers or ring-locks—they require desperate gastons or laybacks.

Grades are either largely irrelevant, or specifically designed to humble any 5.12 climber into feeling thoroughly inadequate. I got schooled on 0.75 cracks on the beginner climb Through the Looking Glass (5.8), where I lost all dignity and quickly declared it the hardest climb in the history of the universe.

Then there are the sub-5.10 off-widths. First, never climb them in a short-sleeved t-shirt. Second, be prepared to exert yourself so much that you feel like you’ve been suffering since the dawn of time. You will progress a

demoralising three centimetres over several long minutes—by which time you will no longer be able to feel that half of your body that is plunged deep into the crack.

But despite all the whining, crying and bleeding, there are rewards. The euphoria of stacking hand-jams is hard to describe. You are holding on with your hands, but your hands aren’t holding on to anything but each other. The stability and confidence from a bomber hand-stack is the exact opposite to the feelings of imminent failure you get from clinging to the edges of a flaring crack, five metres above your last piece, with no idea of how to go up.

A similar delight takes hold the first time you ring-lock.

This finger and thumb concoction, when well executed, feels more secure than sinking a hand into the world’s biggest jug.

Soon, sizing up cracks becomes less intimidating. You want to see how you can manipulate your limbs and what pain you can endure to grovel your way to the top.

Newbies to Li Ming are like wads of soft butter, giftwrapped in delicate pastry; by the time they leave, they are like hardened toffee that can stick to even the sharp-

Cedar Wright places protection on the second free ascent of The Last Ninja (5.12).

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est of teeth. Everything about Li Ming makes you stronger. If you want a two-minute stroll to the crag to pull on jugs, go sport climbing. If you want adventure climbing some 3000m above sea level, with big hikes and routes that are as gorgeous as they are challenging, Li Ming is ready and waiting for you.

And it’s only going to get better. Dobie has been exploring one valley for the past couple of years, barely scratching the surface of Li Ming’s trad climbing potential. There are at least three more valleys in the area. *** It’s early November and American climbing guru Cedar Wright, a special guest of the Li Ming climbing festival, has only one more day to free the top pitch of Flying Buttress. Cedar has already extended his stay a week, so taken is he by this line and the possibility of being the first to free it.

The mountain air is cool and crisp as Cedar trudges up the valley track towards his destiny. The Flying Buttress crack sits in the shade all day, and is in a corner with a good view of the breeze building up and channeling directly into the line.

Cedar has made first ascents in Yosemite, Indian Creek, and other places all over the world, but the Flying Buttress doesn’t care. It treats everyone the same.

Cedar has been on Flying Buttress a dozen times at least. The final headwall, unsurprisingly, is where he comes unstuck. It is thin, sharp, and as brutal as it is unforgiving. The breeze swirls around Cedar as he attacks the climb, but the crack rejects his hands and fingers and spits him out mercilessly.

For Li Ming, a new crag packed with routes awaiting a first free ascent, it seems apt that one of its greatest lines remains untamed.

For now.

beta Getting there

Flying into Li Jiang, in the Yunnan Province, is the easiest option.

From there you can take a taxi or bus for about four hours to Li Ming (either direct or through Zhong Xing, a small town about 25km from Li Ming). Trains and buses arrive in Li Jiang daily, but don’t expect to them to move very quickly. (The train and bus from Yangshuo to Li Ming take at least two days.) Not much English is spoken in these parts of China, so it is handy to have the Chinese characters of the destinations written down.

Accommodation Li Ming is a small town with a few eateries and hotels, ranging in levels of luxury.

Equipment You’ll need at least a double rack, with triples and even quadruples of sizes two, three and four. Also bring fives and sixes if you’re into off-widths.

Guidebook To get a guidebook, contact Mike Dobie at mdobie012@gmail. com.

Season Climbing is possible any time outside the monsoon season (July to September). February through June are the best months.

Must-do routes • •

• • Chris Miller works his way up the Wind of the Valley corner crack (5.10).

•

The Great Owl (5.9). A splitter crack that starts as fingers, expands to wide as fists and finishes with tight hands.

Soul’s Awakening (5.10+). Li Ming’s first route. Six pitches, includes an immaculate corner crack and a diagonally-leaning off-width.

Back to the Primitive (5.11+). An eight-pitch climb that was the first to top out in the valley.

The Wind of the North (5.12). A five-pitch route with a splitter crack that starts 300 metres above Li Ming for maximum exposure.

Flying Buttress (5.13). The best crack in the valley.

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8

TIPS FOR BETTER CLIMBING PHOTOS The very act of going climbing puts us in some unique places and enables us to experience some sublime and sometimes daunting moments. Photography allows us to capture something of these places and sensations, whether it’s an alpine climb or a trip to the crag. Your decision to pull out your camera is usually dictated by your emotional response to your circumstances—those ‘look at that!’ moments at dawn, high on a mountain, or when your mate is

WORDS AND PHOTOS BY MARK WATSON

way above the pads, sending an improbably high boulder problem. These tips are designed to help you get the most out of those moments and make a photo, rather than take one.

1 CAPTURING ACTION Climbing is an action sport and with rock climbing in particular, things can happen fast. Use the following method to freeze climbing action: If your camera has a shutter priority mode (TV on Canon, S on Nikon) use this to set a shutter speed of 1/500th second or faster. In shutter priority mode the camera picks an aperture that will maintain a correct exposure, based on the camera’s metering. Focus on the area you want in critical focus (say, the climber’s face, or where you predict it will be) and take a test shot to check your exposure histogram (see tip 5: Reading a Histogram). If the exposure is off, use your exposure compensation to adjust it in one-thirdstop increments. Using burst mode is valuable for getting the money shot—when the subject’s expression is right, their eyes aren’t closed and their hand is in exactly the right place. This method works well when you’re above the climber, looking down on them.

Alternatively, you might want to illustrate the movement of climbing by blurring it (motion blur). Using the same camera mode, pick a shutter speed around 1/30th second or slower, remembering that it still needs to match focal length, and fire the shutter when your subject is in motion (see tip 2: Sharp Shooter).

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Troy Mattingley bouldering at Flock Hill. A basic straight down bouldering photo that uses the climber’s poise and the ‘moment’ to create tension. For a scene like this, the climber’s face should be the area of critical focus, particularly the eyes, which in this case, I also put on one of the ‘thirds’ (see tip 3: Compose It). A relatively fast shutter speed was used (hence the high ISO) to make sure there was no blur.

5DMKII with 16-35mm lens. 1/320 @ f8, 640 ISO

2 SHARP SHOOTER

Mt Sefton and the Footstool from the Mueller Glacier Lake outlet. Tacksharp from front to back, this image was shot at f11 and focused about a third of the way into the scene. It was shot from a tripod, using mirror lockup and a cable release. I wanted a long exposure to soften the water in relation to the rest of the scene, so used a 3-stop ND filter to reduce the light coming into the lens, allowing an exposure of 30 seconds.

5DMKII with 16-35mm lens. 30 seconds @ f11, 200 ISO + 3-stop ND filter

How sharp your photo is comes down to three things: a sufficiently fast shutter speed for the focal length, shooting from a stable platform (be it yourself or a tripod), and sufficient depth of field. For an epic landscape shot you need to align all three.

The rule of thumb for shutter speed is that it should at least match the focal length you’re shooting at, so if your focal length is 50mm, your shutter speed should be at least 1/50th second. Above 70mm I tend to at least double the shutter speed to allow for heavier lenses and subjects that are further away.

Thinking of yourself as a human tripod will help minimise camera shake. It’s akin to aiming a rifle—your stance should be locked, elbows tucked to chest, your body still and your left hand firmly cradling the bottom of the lens. Shoot like you mean it! If you’re shooting at marginal shutter speeds (less than your focal length) without a tripod, brace against a tree or boulder. Even with fast shutter speeds, your shots will be better if your camera is stationary.

Tripod-use comes down to two main scenarios: when the light’s simply too low to shoot handheld with reasonable shutter speeds and ISOs, or when you deliberately want to capture motion, such as a river or cloud movement. In the case of the former, why not just increase the ISO? With higher ISOs comes greater electronic interference, or noise, which appears in your shots as coloured speckles in the dark areas and a reduced colour range. In mid-range cameras, ISO noise starts to become more visible about 400 ISO and is worse in low light.

Generally I try to keep my ISO below 400, and only push it higher than that if I’m really forced to by the subject and moment. So if you’re in a low light situation and you want to keep your ISO low and your aperture stopped down (closed) enough for ample depth of field, your shutter speed’s going to get pretty slow, hence the need for a tripod. I recommend using mirror lock-up or live preview mode for anything slower than about 1/50th second on a tripod—it will reduce vibration. Using a cable release or a two-second delay shutter release will reduce vibration further.

Finally, keep an eye on your aperture when framing up scenes. Even with wide-angle lenses (which tend to have greater depth of field (DOF)) if you want your scene to be tack-sharp, apertures in the f8–f11 range will give the best DOF/sharpness combination. If you focus about one third of the way into the scene you will have excellent front-to-back sharpness at f11. While, say, f20 theoretically gives even greater DOF, lenses start to diffract light when stopped down that far and soften the image overall.

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3 COMPOSE IT Viewing photography in books, galleries and perhaps this very magazine, you’ll have noticed that there are images that—irrespective of subject and moment—just ‘work’. The reason they work is due to composition and the photographer finding synergy or relationships between the elements in the picture. The most common basic framework for composition is the rule of thirds, whereby crucial subject matter is placed on the intersecting lines of an imaginary nine-rectangle grid laid over the top of your scene (see figures below). For reasons of balance, space and tension, using this formula invariably leads to an image that will sit comfortably with the viewer and invite them in, encouraging the eye to explore the image . The rule of thirds works equally well in action shots and landscape photography, but it’s important to remember that it’s just a guideline. Ultimately, whether a composition is successful or not comes down to it having some sort of structure, and the basis for that structure comes from experience and the photographer’s imagination. If the subject matter is right for it, centred compositions can be very powerful, but you might also structure your photo around scale, depth or contrast.

Every time I look through the viewfinder I make decisions about what to leave in and what to leave out, and I scan every part of the scene to analyse how the elements might work together. A final step before hitting the shutter is to inspect the edges of your frame for extraneous details that might detract from your image. Small differences in the photographer’s position, such as a step to the left or right, can make a big difference to the scene in your viewfinder and take an image from mediocre to magnificent. Remember, you’re designing your photo. Bring what you want to it.

This image of Matt Scholes clawing his way up mixed terrain in the Remarkables utilises the rule of thirds to place the climber’s body in a way that allows negative space (the rock) to the right of the climber, giving the image room to breathe. A sense of symmetry is created with the body position and the ice tool and this in turn works with the subtle diagonal of the rock. Positioning yourself above and to the side of your subject always allows a good chance for facial expressions and puts you close to the action. The fast shutter speed and shallow depth of field draws your eye to where the action is.

5DMKII with 24-70mm lens. 1/640 @ f3.2, 200 ISO

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4 FINDING THE ANGLE Putting the effort into getting an interesting angle is often what makes climbing photos stand out, and invariably shots taken on abseil or from an opposite cliff or high point allow the action to be captured best. Think about the architecture of the rock and how you can capture that and the climber together in way that gives your image unity. Rapping in (or jumaring up) on a rope fixed to a nearby anchor gives a useful off-to-the-side angle and keeps you out of the climber’s way. Just remember to check where the light is falling so that your shadow is not cast over the climber.

Watch out for the climber’s face being hidden by their own shadow too. A Grigri and a single ascender with a foot loop makes the best photography set-up because it’s very quick to switch to descending mode.

As with any photographic situation, anticipation is crucial. Suss out where the action’s going to happen and think about where the climber’s body is going to face most of the time. Many a good climbing shot has been ruined by the climber’s face being hidden. Body position makes or breaks climbing photos too, so watch for those moments where the climber’s position creates tension in the scene or indicates physicality.

Creating a sense of scale is another formula for great climbing photography. Get further away from the crag and compose your scene as you would for a landscape photo (apply the rule of thirds and look for lead-in lines, balance, repetition or depth) and then place the climber within that scene.

John Palmer on Subculture, Quantum Field, Castle Hill. I couldn’t help but compose for the Picasso-like faces in the limestone for this shot, as well as using the size of the cliff to provide a sense of scale. I used the rule of thirds as a guide to place John in the scene and then hit the shutter once he was at the right height and had a body position that was interesting.

5DMKII with 70-200mm lens. 1/1250 @f8, 320 ISO

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5 READING A HISTOGRAM

s An underexposed image, with histogram.

s An image showing clipped highlights. While

Blacks (shadows) are on the left, midtones in the

the blacks and midtones in this photo have been

centre and whites (highlights) right. The graph

well captured, there’s no sky detail, and the

disappearing off the left edge indicates clipped

histogram reflects that by showing significant

shadows, meaning there are too many pixels that

clipped highlights. Incidentally, these two images

are completely black, rendering little detail in

were shot for ‘exposure blending’ in Photoshop,

those areas. Opening these shadows is possible

whereby the sky detail from the underexposed

with a RAW file, but not with a JPEG as there is

image is manually blended with the correctly

less data present.

exposed foreground from the overexposed scene.

This is one way around scenes with a exposure difference that is greater than the camera’s dynamic range; the other is to use Neutral Density Gradient filters.

u This is a textbook ‘correct’ exposure with a large range of brightness among the pixels, partly helped by being shot on an overcast day which reduced glare. The shadows and highlights taper off perfectly in the histogram revealing detail in all shadow areas (but there are still some black pixels) and detail in highlights (the patches of snow). Out of the camera, RAW images will sometimes look ‘flat’ due to this shadow and highlight detail being too far inside the histogram. Using an ‘s’ curve in the tone curve adjustment (Lightroom/Photoshop) or a simple contrast slider will ‘stretch’ the histogram to reveal a greater range of brightness.

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No matter how good your composition, if your photo is under- or over-exposed it’s not going to be a winner. Exposure recovery has reasonable latitude if you are shooting RAW images, but if you’ve shot a JPEG, as most casual photographers do, it’s tough to make a bad exposure look presentable. One of the greatest advantages of digital photography is the ease of viewing instant data about the technical quaility of your exposure; this comes in the form of the histogram. Many photographers glance at their preview image to gauge how good their exposure is, but this is an inaccurate way of telling what’s actually happening in your photo. Preview images are usually artificially bright, especially so in low light, meaning that the user thinks the photo is more brightly exposed than it actually is. Learning to read a histogram (and habitually viewing it) will not only help your exposures in the field, but also your processing ability.

A histogram is simply a graph of pixel brightness, with the darkest pixels (blacks, or shadows) at the left, midtones in the centre, and whites (highlights) on the right. The greater the presence of a certain brightness in the scene, the taller the graph will be. While the profile of a histogram can vary depending on the type and quantity of light in a scene, the key thing to avoid is ‘clipping’. Clipping occurs when an image is under- or over-exposed, and is visible in your histogram as columns stacked at the left (underexposed) or right (overexposed) sides of the graph (see figures at left). This will manifest itself in your photo, respectively, as: under exposure and shadow areas that have no visible or recoverable details (too many pixels that are 100 per cent black) and overexposure, or ‘burned’ highlights where there is no detail (too many pixels that are 100 per cent white). From a purely technical perspective, the ultimate exposure is one where the data in the histogram represents a bell curve, nearly touching down to the bottom of the graph at either end (see figure below).

When I make a new exposure, I’ll check the histogram straight away and then if necessary make a correction for my next exposure using the exposure compensation adjustment.

Tutoko River, Fiordland National Park.

Shot in bright conditions, I stopped the aperture down to f20 for this exposure, for maximal depth of field and to make a ‘starburst’ as the sun broke over the horizon. Again, composed around the rule of thirds, with approximately twothirds of the scene bush and one-third river. Although the sun captures your attention in this shot, I put the cluster of boulders on the lower left third to make them an anchor for the scene.

5DMKII with 16-35mm lens. 1/125 @ f20 and 100 ISO

6 PROCESSING POWER Whether you’ve shot RAW or JPEG, digital images always require a little tweaking for them to look their best straight out of the camera, so if you’re not using in-camera presets to style your photos (and I don’t recommend you do), it’s worth applying a little bit of sharpening, contrast adjustment and some subtle saturation adjustments. If your composition was slighly off, a crop can go a long way towards making an image better too. Remember that less is more when it comes to processing and over-saturation—black shadows with no detail or burned out skies from overdoing contrast adjustments are photo-killers. Try to keep your processing subtle and remember that it’s about enhancing what’s already awesome about the shot, not rescuing a shot that’s mediocre anyway. It’s best to get your shot as perfect as possible in-camera— exposure and composition-wise—and then emphasise as necessary in post-processing.

For processing photos I recommend Adobe Lightroom (PC/MAC) or Aperture (Mac-only). These powerful applications allow fine processing of every detail of your photo, while proving peerless editing and cataloguing functions all in one programme.

7 SHOOT RAW If you’re half serious about photography, I strongly recommend shooting in RAW format. While it means more processing time at the computer and learning a little more, it opens digital photography up considerably and gives you more creative input and control over your final image. RAW is simply the digital equivalent of a negative (except that it’s already positive!) and gives amazing latitude in processing.

Images that are under- or over-exposed can be recovered to look perfectly usable. RAW allows you to adjust contrast, colour emphasis and temperature and sharpness to suit. Rich black and white conversions are possible, and the beauty of working with RAW is that as you learn more you can return to previously processed photos and rework them.

An option for those unsure about making the commitment to RAW is to shoot RAW+JPEG (a setting possible in most decent cameras), that way the JPEGs are available for a quick upload to social media while you craft works of art with the best RAW versions.

8 UPGRADE YOUR GEAR In the days of film, it was correctly said that if you wanted to upgrade camera kit, you were best spending your money on lenses. After all, the camera body was simply a box for holding and exposing film and it was the quality of the glass that created richer photographs. While this is still true for lens glass, there is a big difference in camera bodies these days too. Film has been replaced by sensors, and these vary in sensitivity and quality, depending on how much you want to spend. The biggest differences come when sensors are pushed towards their limits with low light photography. Better (read: more expensive) sensors and especially full-frame sensors perform much better at high ISOs and are less noisy (grainy) even at low ISOs in low light. Better sensors will also give you much greater dynamic range (ability to capture a wide range of detail in both shadows and highlights).

The importance of lens glass can’t be understated though, and while you might find you change camera bodies every few years as sensors continue to improve, a good lens will stand the test of time. For landscape and outdoor photography I find zooms convenient and usually carry a 16–35mm, 24–70mm and 70–200mm. The best upgrade for someone looking to move on from kit lenses is to look at a lens in the 24–70mm, or 24–105mm range (for full-frame). These lenses give a great wide angle and moderate telephoto without compromising image quality with too large a range (huge-range zooms are best avoided).

When people refer to ‘fast’ lenses, they’re referring to the maximum aperture that the lens is capable of (eg. f2.8). A faster lens lets in more light, making it more versatile in low-light situations and allowing more creative use with shallow DOF. Better lenses also bring richer colour and tonal depth to your photos, and will operate well at a wide range of focal lengths and apertures.

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THIS IS NOT A TEST [ at l e as t, not a ve r y s c ie ntif ic on e ]

REVIEWER / UNSCIENTIFIC OBSERVER MATT PIERSON CUTE, FRIENDLY RODENT / WILLING TEST SUBJECT OYUNBILEG But it does involve gerbils. Happy, furry, hungry little specimens that love climbing around in a cage. They are cuter than the average reader and perhaps better-smelling, but are otherwise a parallel subject.

To be honest, there weren’t any gerbils used in this experiment, I just needed to inject a sense of novelty into this otherwise painfully desiccated topic. I mean, you've read it all before right? 'One tastes better than the other, blah blah blah … ’ So this time I've recruited a cheery, domesticated, desert-dwelling (and fictional) Mongolian rodent to eat food and perform a variety of physical activities. And I've done this to prove a point, a philosophical point. Here it is: life's too short to spend it running around in a wheel that goes nowhere.

Another point is that comparing the efficiency of food requires a controlled variable. Namely, Oyunbileg. Oyunbileg has brought her wisdom in the form of eating and then exercising, anaerobically and aerobically, in equal quantities. I have compared her performance after consumption of a variety of foodstuffs, scrutinising the following elements: vitality, focus, duration of effects, after-effects, and well-being throughout. Results of my controlled testing can be found on the following page.

Oyunbileg is average in health, fitness, height and weight and although she is furry and has whiskers, it should be noted that the use of rodents as test subjects comparative to humans is largely accepted by the scientific world.

CLIF BAR I've always seen these bars in shops and reeled at the price.

Why would anybody buy one of these jumped-up little muesli bars when you can buy a full packet of Gingernuts for the same price? Reading the Clif Bar packaging, it's obvious the ingredients technically surpass the average biscuit, but really, how much difference can that make? ‘A muesli bar that doubles as a waffle,’ I thought. Then, upon opening the packet I realised Kester has played a trick on me. He has cunningly replaced my futuristic nutritious waffle bar with a damaged turd!

Selflessly continuing, I closed my eyes and took a big bite—it was actually not as bad as it looks. Then, all of a sudden, my cynical fangs retracted. A strange feeling washed over me—a sense of well-being and one-ness with my inner chakra. The supersonic stool-cake also ignited my physical self with a deep, calm and fulfilling buzz of energy. Wow. I like.

Astronauts must force down similar delights when taking a bounce on other planets. A lightweight poop-like patty containing a sophisticated blend of vitamins and minerals: I highly recommend never eating real food again. This evolution is worth every penny!

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EM'S POWER SNACKS THE COOKIE Again, an expensive treat that has the overall appearance of a fecal jaffle. But this time, my first bite proves shockingly yum! Undertones of rodent roughage are well-balanced with a pleasant genteel sweetness and a trove of superlative chocolate chip pizazz. It's probably the naughtiest of the sports bars reviewed—so much so, I barely class it in that category.

The only ingredient to distinguish Em’s Power Cookie from your average cookie is brown sugar, though its absence seems irrelevant as the chocolate chips are quite obviously rammed with bright-white disaccharide. I liked Em's cookie in my mouth a great deal, and the hot graphics and great chocolate chips had me choosing Em's cookies over any other brand. Plus, Em is a very cool lady and her power food is made right here in New Zealand. Look out for the caped crusader's magic potion whenever you’re feeling low.

THE BAR As for the biscuit, but looking and tasting even better.

TARARUA BISCUITS Brown family recipe: 1kg coarse wholemeal flour, 600g plain flour, 500g butter, 400g brown sugar, 2 heaped tbsp treacle or golden syrup. Mix, bake.

While the overwhelming disadvantage of this classic Kiwi home-baking solution is obviously the ingredients, the primary advantage of going home-made is versatility. You can add anything you like to the mix and boom, there it is, down your trap. The second advantage is quantity. Like a rock band on tour, you never worry about a comedown when you have the stash to stay high. Also, many homemade treats are not only as heavy as a brick before and after eating, they are also heavy on big old-school fats and carbs. Slabs of flour and butter may well turn you into a turtle, but readers experienced with sustained expeditions will know well the moral of that story.

CHOCOLATE ENERGY DRINKS Party pills are banned and this stuff is sold to kids? At my local dairy I can't get to the counter for pure poison dressed as a party, radical colours blazing. These get you high with enough chemicals to blow up a school! Dairy owners are gateway drug dealers and energy drinks should be class-A substances. If you want short- and long-term physical and mental complications, get into the stuff. If you value your sanity, avoid all contact. Negatives aside, there's a time and a place for all drugs.

Personally, I'm quite fond of a blast just before a training session. Tastes like sherbet—yum—and kicks you up the arse like Yoda. Problem is, post-session side-effects turn you into a comatose hermaphrodite.

LOLLIES A dollar mix can be as entertaining as it can be productive.

The best thing about this pure white-grain crowd pleaser—other than the fried eggs and aeroplanes—is they can be filtered into your system steadily, one by one, as the session progresses. For a short session, try one candy every five minutes, ramping the intake exponentially every half-an-hour to counter the come-down. By the end of a two-hour session, you will be necking five every few minutes, buzzing your brains out and seshing the campus board until your pulleys pop out through your knuckles. You'll then instantly hate everyone, puke and collapse.

FAST FOOD I have a theory that if you were to park outside a Maccy D’s drive-through all day, you would see at least three people you know visiting ‘the devil’s back door’. At least one of those people would have you believe they are staunchly anti such vindictively unethical food outlets. But the reality is, you don’t even have to get out of the car to fill your stomach! Yip! But the reality is, the burgers are made from dog food washed with ammonium hydroxide.

Jamie Oliver says so.

GU ENERGY GEL I couldn't get psyched enough to squeeze the stuff into my mouth! I imagined it would have the taste of soap mixed with soil, and the consistency of No More Gaps. The 'USA Gu Energy Labs' have designed this small silver vestige to mimic a bottle, a lure that was wasted on me. Make no mistake: GU Energy Gel is targeted at the elite performance end of the market. Containing a refined cocktail of amino-acids and antioxidants, this squeegee shell of 'advanced nutrition for athletes' is not brewed for fun and is unsuitable for those pregnant or under the age of 15. I am neither, but I'm also not at high altitude, which is where Gu holds the advantage over its counterparts, claiming to be easily digestible when the body is in the throws of altitude sickness. Its quicklyedible, concentrated ooziness would also be an advantage when conserving water and when on a strict schedule.

HEALTHY EATING To really climb hard, improve fitness, focus and strength, eating lots of super healthy food is key. This includes mountains of veggies and fruit, proteins and carbs. I have always been a fan of carb-loading for 48 hours prior to a session. For a few hours prior to the session, eat nothing, just drink water. As the session progresses towards its maximum output stage, maintain blood-sugar levels via small quantities of your chosen potion—consumed between attempts.

Once warmed down, eat a small, highprotein, low-carb follow-up meal within 45 minutes. Then, after a couple of hours, eat big and fresh.

DRINKS Rule number one: don't mix your liquids with sugar. It confuses your digestive system into thinking the water is food and slows the re-hydration process.

Re-hydration is most important when attempting to retain power and energy.

I recommend having a bottle of sugar-free electrolyte drink to sip on during a workout, along with a large bottle of room temperature water. The closer the temperature of the water to your body’s temperature, the faster and more easily the water will be assimilated into your system. Drink a few mouthfuls of water every 15 minutes and the results will be surprising. Soda Streams are in again. Put bubbles in your water if it will encourage you to drink more.

NOT TE ST RE SUL TS on the nex t page

Eating the average chocolate bar is like wearing a flower behind your ear to a Hells Angels’ meeting: it's symbolic but it won't be long before you hit the deck. Chocolate usually contains a lot of refined sugar and provides the urge to eat lots all at once. Its energising effects prove acute at best, and rarely last. Plus, your chocolate-induced endorphins will take you to a comforting place far from where you need to be when involved in a physical activity that requires guile. In desperate circumstances, pure dark chocolate is your best option. It contains less sugar and more of the stimulating cocoa bean. The better brands are actually healthy, in moderate quantities.

SCROGGIN Anybody who has had the pleasure of tucking into a bag of scroggin will be well aware of its volatile organic compilation of perfumed leather, stale banana turds and stuff that looks like chocolate but tastes like bitter arse. Peanuts, almonds, seeds, raisins and sultanas—the cheapest in existence—all soaked in sulphur dioxide and pre-handled by an underpaid workforce that doesn't wash under its fingernails. Scroggin is an institution. It is the steadfast classic sustenance for the tramping fraternity and the typical Hangdog overstayers. Without scroggin, Kathmandu would go bust due to its customer-base dying of starvation. You can't go wrong with scroggin, and the varieties on offer are endless, ensuring its eternal appeal.

ONE SQUARE MEAL I have included these fruity oat bars because they are tasty, popular and readily available. However, they do not claim to be a performanceenhancing energy food. They seem more designed as a dietary supplement for those on the go. If you miss a meal before an activity, One Square Meal claims to provide your body with one third of its daily required vitamins and minerals (if you eat both bars out of the package). Lightly sweetened with honey and naturally flavoured using fruit, they taste great and provide a sense of nurture for your system. However, having eaten quite a few OSMs in my time, I can tell you that their rich, tangy, light edibility can become sickening. But I definitely recommend using a bar or two to fill a nutrition gap in your day, in moderation. A moderately-priced health food treat you can buy in most dairies and supermarkets.

>>>>>>>>> THE CLIMBER ISSUE 87, AUTUMN 2014

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N OT FUEL

TEST RESU L TS AFTEREFFECTS

ENHANCEMENT

RATING

90% Fast release energy, focus and wellbeing, lasting up to 2.5 hours.

Normal, worked, happy.

Perfect for an energy boost.

45%

Medium release, medium energy, lasting up to 2.5 hours.

Feel normal.

Hungry.

Better alternative to regular cookies and bars.

NZ-made!

40% Endless low–medium energy. Heavy and hard to digest.

Feel fat, heavy, hungry and a little sick.

Digestive discomfort.

Cheap. Good for tramping.

Versatile.

20% Hyper burst of high energy, focus and dizziness for up to one hour.

Weak, nauseous and crashed.

Good for a dash.

Convenient.

Long-term sideeffects.

15% Fast release energy.

Feel light. Feel hyper.

Weak, nauseous and crashed.

Cheap and fun.

Convenient.

Endless variety.

1% Indigestion.

Asleep. Alone.

Fat, fatigued queasy and corrupt.

Covenient.

Crap.

Unethical.

100%

Sustained energy. Feel light and strong.

Feel worked! Heal fast.

Feel strong.

Doesn’t get better! Longterm energy and wellbeing.

Enhanced recovery.

55%

Slow release. Low– medium energy.

Hunger buster.

Feel normal.

Hungry. Digestive discomfort.

Covenient.

Variety. Can filter into system slowly.

50%

Quick release sustained energy for up to 3 hours.

Bit farty. Hungry.

Feel tired.

Specialised.

Freaky. Great for multi-pitch and mountains.

55% Slow release medium energy for up to 3 hours.

50

Feel normal.

Hungry. A bit sick.

THE CLIMBER ISSUE 87, AUTUMN 2014

Convenient. Has vitamins and minerals.

COMP AR I S ON O F NO INDIVIDUAL piece of kit is as indisputably essential in the alpine environment as a headlamp. Without light, the show simply can’t go on. Over the past year or so I’ve been testing three headlamps in the $100–$150 price range. This price range is designed to provide good all-around headlamps that most of us would use for every application requiring a headlamp. I have been testing the Black Diamond Storm, LED Lenser SEO 7R and the Petzl Tikka RXP. Headlamps have changed dramatically since I first started climbing. Back in the day, the first LED headlamps hadn’t reached the market yet and a week-long trip meant bringing two or three sets of batteries as well as spare bulbs for a device that weighed a tonne and was marginally brighter than a candle.

In light of this, I have to say I am constantly blown away by the power, battery life and weight (or lack thereof) of headlamps today. Bulbs don’t blow, batteries last for months of use and the units are so light you can’t even tell you’re wearing one.

Most headlamps these days also have regulated battery life so that the headlamp is as bright with fresh batteries as it is with nearly-dead ones. Compared to the gear available even ten years ago, the current generation of headlamps is amazing.

Despite my enthusiasm for today’s headlamps, I do have a few general criticisms. These things have too many features: red lights, spot lights, diffuse lights, different brightness settings, transport locks and more. These settings are usually all controlled by a single (often ridiculously small) button. Some headlamps even feature so-called ‘reactive’ lighting in which the headlamp automatically detects the levels of ambient light and tailors the brightness to what it thinks you need for the given environment. Unlike in the good old days, when you turned you headlamp on, adjusted the beam focus and that was about it, these modern headlamps require a bit of an adjustment period to figure out how that single tiny little button controls all the features.

PETZL TIKKA RXP I don’t like cars that beep when you leave the lights on, I don’t like predictive texting and I don’t like headlamps that think they know what level of light you need. My least-favourite headlamp in the test is the Petzl Tikka RXP (RRP $150). The Tikka RXP arrived late in the game and I haven’t had the time to put it through its paces as much as I have the other two headlamps, but so far I have been underwhelmed. The Tikka RXP comes with a rechargeable battery that can be charged from any USB port.

The Tikka RXP does not have a dimming feature; it relies instead on three brightness settings and a ‘reactive’ lighting feature. I have found the reactive lighting to be very annoying. While wear-

STUFF YOU NEED

MO D E R A TE L Y-P RICED HEADL AMPS ing the headlamp on evening trail runs through the forest, it would constantly flicker between settings as I happened to look from light to dark areas. The level of light was always about right once it settled, and it was not nearly as irritating when walking, but it is annoying to have it changing all the time if you are moving fast. You can turn off the reactive lighting feature, but this involves cycling through the different settings each time you turn the headlamp on or off. In addition, the only way to get the headlamp dim enough to comfortably read a book or map by is by using the reactive lighting. A Boost Mode (activated by double tapping one of the buttons to boost the beam to an extra-bright 215 lumens) is handy for scouting but it lasts only ten seconds or so (just long enough for your eyes to adjust to the light) before turning off again. Another double-tap is required to turn it back on again. It would be nice if you could just leave it on. Battery life is also quite poor—about two and a half hours on the highest setting and ten hours on its lowest setting. That is barely enough for an average weekend trip (with pre-dawn starts and after-dark finishes, of course). A triple-A battery pack is available for longer trips, but has to be purchased separately. The best thing about this headlamp is the headband. The innovative split in the back is very easy to adjust, comfortable on the head and, if you have long hair, you can put your ponytail between the bands to help hold the headlamp in place. Also available (though not tested) is the Petzl OS, a computer-based system for calibrating the headlamp’s settings to your specifications.

LED LENSER SEO7R I am quite impressed with the LED Lenser SEO7R (RRP $150). It is the brightest headlamp in the test, with a max of 220 lumens, and has all of the requisite features of a modern headlamp, including reactive lighting. The reactive lighting on the 7R didn’t annoy me as much as the system on the Tikka RXP, probably because the changes were much more gradual, although in every instance I used it, it seemed like the trend was for the headlamp to get brighter and brighter. While the other headlamps in the test had multiple LEDs for spot and diffuse light, the 7R has just one white LED with three brightness settings, a manually-focusable beam, and a small, nonfocusable red LED off to the side. The battery life isn’t great (five hours on high, 20 hours on low), but it’s double the lifespan of the Tikka RXP. The best part of the headlamp is the battery pack—it comes with both a USB rechargeable battery and three triple-As that can be used interchangeably, allowing you to carry inexpensive backup batteries (tripe-As) while using the rechargeable battery as your main power. The single button works reasonably well and is easy to find when wearing gloves. The biggest and most frustrating drawback of this otherwise great headlamp is that it gives no warning when the batteries are about to die. They just die, usually at inopportune times. The other headlamps all have low-battery-life

indicators and the lack of one here is a bit of a deal-breaker for me. I wouldn’t trust it on a climb or trip I knew would involve some night travel unless I’d just charged the batteries.

BLACK DIAMOND STORM The Black Diamond Storm (2013 model) was the weakest and cheapest (RRP $100) headlamp in the test, and the only headlamp tested that did not have a rechargeable battery pack or a reactive lighting system. (Black Diamond’s ReVolt is essentially the same headlamp as the Storm but has a USB rechargeable battery, but this was not tested.) Despite being packed with features, the Storm was by far the simplest headlamp in the test. It has just high power, low and red, with a dimming feature for each white light setting to adjust it to what you want. The Storm has impressive battery life— 50 hours on high and 125 hours on its lowest setting. I honestly can’t remember when I last changed the batteries in the Storm, but it gets the most use of any of the three and the battery meter is still flashing green. The drawback here is that it only throws 100 lumens on high. However, I’ve never felt like I desperately needed more light when climbing with it. In a very unscientific ‘dark-closet test’, the Storm was not that much dimmer than the other two on high power. I have been using this headlamp the longest of the three tested and found the single button, which controls all the features, took some time to get used to and was occasionally very frustrating.

Perhaps getting used to the Black Diamond system made learning to use the other two headlamps in the test a bit easier. Despite the bump on the button, to make it easier to find when wearing gloves, the button can be hard to find. The 2014 model (not tested) has just come out and has a 160 lumen rating while still retaining a long battery life.

CONCLUSIONS Of the headlamps in this test, the Black Diamond Storm is the headlamp I am most likely to grab when going out climbing. It’s not the brightest, but it gets the job done, it’s easy to use (once you get used to it) and it has such a long battery life I don’t need to worry. When the low battery light starts flashing, I know I’ll still have ten or 15 hours of use left before it actually dies. I think the LED Lenser SEO 7R is a great headlamp. But with a relatively poor battery life (when compared to the Storm) and no low-battery warning, I wouldn’t trust it on a trip unless I brought extra batteries. The Petzl Tikka RXP is a very comfortable and powerful headlamp, but is undermined by poor battery life and annoying features. Coming from a company whose name is synonymous with headlamps, the Tikka RXP is a disappointment.

–Graham Johnson

THE CLIMBER ISSUE 87, AUTUMN 2014

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STUFF YOU NEED

VAUDE HOOPED 1 BIVI BIVVY BAG I WORK in an outdoor store, so I pride myself on having a fairly good idea about most of the outdoor brands on the market. However, I hadn’t heard very much about the German brand Vaude until I stumbled upon its bivvy bags. The design of Vaude’s two bags—not to mention the rather lurid orange and yellow colour scheme—instantly appealed, with one being a very minimalist shell, and the other being the full monty, with bells and whistles galore.

As I have a rather insatiable appetite for shiny (and unnecessarily complicated) items, I opted for the top-of-the-line Vaude Hooped 1 Bivi.

Weighing in at close to 850g, it’s heading into the territory of ultra-light one-person tents, but such is the price you pay for the vast array of features on offer. The bag comes with three poles and six pegs, but for the slightly more weight conscious—who don’t mind being smothered by a bivvy bag—these can be left at home to save 150g.

Probably the biggest draw for this bag is the amount of ventilation it offers. The two crossed poles at the top give a large amount of space, in addition to the forward-facing mesh vent, and zip-operated window behind your head, which both serve to alleviate the slightly claustrophobic feeling of being asphyxiated by your accommodation in the middle of the night. Furthermore, there’s the third pole down by your feet, which facilitates the operation of the final mesh vent. Positioned correctly, into the wind, the bag offers a cooling through-draft, which staves away dreaded condensation. With such a large amount of space, there’s plenty of room for your sleeping mat inside the bivvy and, depending on your size and the degree of comfort you wish to have during the night, possibly a small pack too. It measures up at 220cm long, 80cm wide at the shoulders, and 60cm at the feet.

Despite not skimping in other areas, Vaude have made the fabric as light as practically possible. They’ve sacrificied a little breathability in favour of increased air flow and ventilation. The floor fabric is a thin ripstop, which feels like it could take a fair amount of abuse,

and isn’t showing any wear despite my sometimes callous disregard for what’s beneath it. The upper material feels much more delicate, especially when stretched over the poles, but unless it were to come in contact with a sharp object, it will weather almost anything you can—metaphorically— throw at it.

Whenever I’ve used this bag, I’ve had all the flaps and vents wide open, and I’ve never had an issue with condensation or dampness.

For someone who is known for sweating like a pig when tucked up in a basic bivvy bag (and waking up in the morning with a rather damp sleeping bag), it’s a welcome relief to have found a relatively light alternative. I have yet to use this humble abode in torrential rain, but the light rain and dew that have come my way have been suitably repelled.

The guy ropes, which initially appear a little redundant, serve the worthwhile purpose of preventing the primary pole (which hovers over your abdomen) from impaling you in the middle of the night when the wind picks up.

All in all, it’s a great bivvy bag. While it’s on the hefty end of the spectrum, it provides much more comfort and liveability than some of the plastic bag-style bivvies on the market. Indeed, it provided such an excellent and somewhat unexpectedly good sleep for a bivvy bag that, on its first outing, I missed summiting anything due to an extra twohour sleep in after sleeping through my alarm.

Vaude Hooped 1 Bivi bivvy bag. RRP $299.90 HHH H –Pete Harris

THE NORTH FACE THERMOBALL FULL ZIP INSULATED JACKET DOWN INSULATION has long been a staple of performance sleeping bags and jackets. Its insulating properties are superb, but the problem has always been moisture. When down gets wet, it absorbs moisture and collapses, or flattens, thus losing its insulating properties.

Synthetic insulation is hydrophobic and doesn’t suffer from the flattening out problem. But synthetics have their own disadvantages. Many synthetic insulation products deliver a little less warmth for weight compared with down. But the biggest downside for popular synthetic fills has always been that they are bulky—they have never compressed as well as down.

Various methods of technology have been explored to reconcile the performance qualities of each type of insulation. Dridown is a waterresistant down (the down plumes are treated with a polymer). Coreloft and Exceloft comprise a mixture of small (more compressable) and large denier (more durable) fibres. Primaloft One uses extremely thin fibres throughout, giving good compressibility and warmth, but at the cost of durability, and expense.

The North Face’s contribution is its Thermoball range of jackets.

Primaloft Thermoball is a synthetic fill that is structured in a similar way to down plumules. It performs in a roughly equivalant way to 600 fill-quality down, but is harder-wearing, is hydrophobic, doesn’t flatten, and compresses almost as well.

I got a Thermoball jacket late last year and, despite it having apparently been summer since then, I’ve hardly taken the thing off. It is one of the most versatile pieces of clothing I own. A men’s size medium 52

THE CLIMBER ISSUE 87, AUTUMN 2014

weighs 330g. It’s about as warm as your swanny, and not as warm as your regular downy or belay parka.

Because it’s so light and thin it dries extremely quickly—and of course because it’s synthetic, it is warm even when wet.

The outer fabric is a lightweight nylon that is sewn through with quite small, square baffles throughout.

It is small enough to wear underneath a waterproof jacket in winter. I’ve been using it as a warmer and lighter alternative to a fleece on longer mountain trips. And on summer day-climbs I’ve taken it instead of my usual heavier syntheticfill jacket. In winter I would pack this as well as my usual down parka.

I also wear it most days to work, and it has replaced my old hoodie in my cragging pack. (It’s lighter, warmer and cooler.)

It’s so light and well-tailored, when you put it on you almost don’t notice you’re actually wearing a jacket, it’s more like you’re just wearing air (which is quite accurate when I think about it).

It has a full-length zip, two simple hand-warmer pockets and a nice high collar which is usefully broad enough to house your chin when you zip it right up.

I wore it round to a friend’s place for dinner and they said I looked like I was in Star Trek.

Women’s specific and hoodie versions are also avaliable.

The North Face Thermoball Full Zip insulated jacket. RRP $360 (hoodie: $380).

HHHHH –Kester Brown

BOOKS AND FILMS

ON THE TRAIL OF GENGHIS KHAN

By Tim Cope Reviewed by Pat Deavoll

On the trail of Genghis Khan: An Epic journey through the Land of the Nomads. By Tim Cope. Bloomsbury USA, New York.

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Register today for our 2014 technique clinics or general climbing and skiing. Meet new climbing partners, catch up with friends and enjoy 3 great days of climbing and evening entertainment including a mountain film festival!

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WHAT IS it about Australia that enables it to routinely pull epic adventurers out of the bag, even in this day and age? John Muir, Justin Jones, Andrew McCauley, James Castrission, Eric Philips, and now Tim Cope, have all put their mark, or rather their footprint, on the globe in some unique way, defying the notion that exploration is dead and gone in the twenty first century.

I went to listen to Cope speak at Middleton Grange School last year and was struck by the seeming humility of his presentation. Here was someone unmotivated by commercial gain or prestige. He had done his three-and-a-half-year, 8000km odyssey from Mongolia to Hungary on horseback because he wanted to follow in the footsteps of Ghengis Khan and emulate the ‘extraordinary lifestyle’ of the nomads living on the Eurasian Steppe—a journey that hadn’t been successfully completed since the thirteenth century. It is this that the book is about.

Starting in the Mongolian capital of Ulan Bator, Cope goes from being a horse-riding novice to spending months in the saddle. He learns to fend off wolves and would-be horse-thieves, and grapples with the climate, from the sub-zero temperatures of the steppe and the high passes of the Carpathians to the searing heat of the deserts of Kazakhstan. As he travels, Cope forms a close bond with his three horses and especially his dog Tigon, whom he acquires along the way. He encounters hospitality, essential for human survival on the steppe, from the nomads and says of the nomad lifestyle: ‘There was no thinking backward or forward, only a feeling of completeness, for this was the nomadic life intact, virtually unchanged from the days of Genghis Khan.’

Cope realises that ‘the nomadic people had a connection to the land I had never dreamed existed in modern times […] Free of fences and private land ownership, the natural lay of the earth was unhindered, defined only by mountains, rivers, deserts, and the ebb and flow of the seasons.’

However, as he travels west, Cope encounters the region devastated by Stalin’s policy of land confiscation and collectivisation—and by famines and forced migration. In Kazakhstan, he describes the nuclear tests carried out at the Semipalatinsk test site, after the Soviet Atomic Agency categorised the region home to nomads as ‘uninhabited’: ‘The United Nations believes that between 1947 and 1989 one million people were exposed to radiation, leading to high suicide and cancer rates, infertility and deformation.’

In Crimea, he describes the ‘vilification of the Tatars’—how in 1944 nearly 200,000 Tatars were taken from their homes and deported to Siberia and Central Asia. Cope says, ‘The survivors of those chilling events […] had waited all their lives to return from exile’. He depicts the present day steppe as a complicated, melancholy place, full of half-abandoned towns, desperate alcoholics and people struggling to survive. He bears witness to how the traditional ways hang in the balance in the postSoviet world, an era that has brought new-found freedom, but also the perils of corruption and alcoholism, a world without either the communist system it once relied on or the nomadic traditions of its ancestors.

It was a vast journey, and at 528 pages, a vast book. Sometimes Cope is repetitive, but then travel is repetitive: the getting up, the packing, getting yourself from A to B, the hunt for a camp, water, friendly people, a place to rest. But on the whole Cope is a vibrant and engaging narrator.

Nick Reding, author of The Last Cowboys at the End of the World says of this book: ‘In some ways the most reassuring thing about On the Trail of Genghis Khan is that, in a world full of people and connections and easy means of gratification, someone with enough courage and curiosity can still find a place to get lost. And, in doing so, can stillcome to understand life on totally foreign terms.’

This book is for anyone brave enough to leave New Zealand without the cushion and constraints of a Hillary Expedition Grant, a satellite phone or a media crew to see them off. A true testament to the Australian spirit of adventure: big country, big dreams.

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BOOKS AND FILMS

GLACIER MURDER: A PHILIPPA BARNES MYSTERY

By Trish McCormack Reviewed by Di Hooper HAVING NEVER wanted to push anyone into a crevasse—could anyone even contemplate this most hideous of acts?—it is still a plausible situation and the one that sets the scene for Trish McCormack’s second crime novel. The corpse is spat out of the ice many years on, and is discovered by the protagonist of the novel, Philippa Barnes, who becomes compelled to find out the ‘how’ and the ‘why’ of the cold-case appearance.

Readers of Trish’s first novel, Assigned to Murder, will already be familiar with assertive and sassy Philippa Barnes. She is a glacier guide on the Franz Josef Glacier and her life is unusual in that she has the custody and charge of her much younger sister, which is both constraining and irritating to her. As a ‘free spirit’, Philippa likes her own company, and is a competent woman of the outdoors.

She can alienate people by being rather outspoken, but she is also an understated but inadvertent ‘genuine hero,’ which ensures that many people look up to her with immense respect in her community. Philippa Barnes is one of the most ‘real’ fictitious characters you will find if you are a Kiwi reader looking for stories about the sort of women we enjoy being with and having as friends.

Following the deaths of both her parents in a climbing accident, Philippa Barnes works intermittently to support them both, but is not averse to taking off whenever she can to solve another murder mystery. Assigned to Murder was set near Lake Kaniere, on the West

Coast, where an elaborate circle of friends finally reveals the truth about a murder in the vicinity some years earlier. Glacier Murder is based around Philippa solving a more recent but linked murder, of an acquaintance of hers. The Philippa of the second crime novel is still very much the same character as she was in the first—down to earth, intelligent, curious, unwilling to suffer any fools and dogged in her need to find out the truth when anyone else around her is trying their hardest to hide it.

Glacier Murder is not as convoluted as Assigned to Murder (which was perhaps a deeper thinker’s crime novel) and would be a very suitable addition to the packed holiday bag. It’s easy to read but has dollops of narrative tension and it is hard to put down. If you do have to leave it and head out to a crag for a day or two, saving the next chapter for another time will not result in the reader losing any of the threads because the story is straightforward (although not solvable until the end), and the characterisation is rich and consistently applied.

Trish is the daughter of the famous Franz Josef mountain guide Peter McCormack. She lives and works in Wellington but continues to love the West Coast. Her books are available online from westcoastbooks.co.nz. Trish is currently working on a third crime novel; Philippa Barnes will once again be the sleuth, but this time the story will be set in and around Paparoa National Park, and caves and caving will feature in the story.

Glacier Murder—A Philippa Barnes Mystery. By Trish McCormack. Glacier Press, RRP $29.00.

THE BOULDER: A PHILOSOPHY FOR BOULDERING

By Francis Sanzaro Reviewed by Nic Learmonth SO MUCH of the time we spend bouldering is time spent stewing. We sprawl on our boulder mats at the base of a problem and stare up at the holds above and think; or we watch other people working problems and doing their own thinking; or—when we can’t be near the rock or its plastic stand-in— we get our hit vicariously by buying into the culture that surrounds it. So much of what we do as boulderers happens in our heads.

So a book like Francis Sanzaro’s The Boulder: A Philosophy for Bouldering, which offers to formalise the relationship between the bouldering that happens on the rock and the bouldering that happens in the mind, is an exciting prospect.

American climber Francis Sanzaro is a recently graduated academic in philosophy and religious studies, currently teaching at Morgan State University in Maryland, USA, so he is well placed to expound on a philosophy for boulderers.

A philosophical text can do all kinds of things, but its primary activities can be boiled down to: observing a subject and then interpreting it, in order to ultimately lead to greater understanding. Sanzaro states at the outset that he plans to consider the language, movement and complexities of bouldering. He adds that while the book is for two readerships— people interested in philosophy, and those who climb—The Boulder will deliver a bonus for us readers who climb because it will make us ‘more mindful of what it is [we] are doing when [we] are bouldering.’

Those are big promises. Sanzaro definitely delivers on that close scrutiny, giving accounts of the evolution of the sport and its cultural history, and sifting through abstract concepts of movement, purpose, style and the intellectual engagement of working a problem.

The Boulder opens with a preface from John Gill, whose prose is as 54

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smooth and pure and contemplative as a good single malt. Gill demonstrates his mastery of the concepts of bouldering and of the quill, unpacking the history of and concepts behind our sport in a casual, thoughtful narrative that’s easy and fun to read. His writing contrasts with Sanzaro’s more academic strain, which is drier and at times feels self-conscious and laden-down with theory-driven jargon.

Sanzaro shows his academic pedigree, drawing on a selection of philosophers and theorists who speculate on the abstract principles behind movement, culture, art and sport. Sanzaro also draws on quotes from a selection of mainstream athletes (as well as climbers, including John Gill) to talk about how to think about climbing movement and strategies for engaging with rock. Abstract is the word here. Sanzaro likens bouldering to things like art, ‘site-specific architecture,’ Foucault, dance theory and Bruce Lee’s outpourings on martial arts.

At times, Sanzaro’s contemplations are very engaging, but the overall line of thought is choppy. Each angle feels like a set piece, and Sanzaro ties himself up in knots over things that seem obvious, like whether bouldering is ‘a death-defying act,’ and whether the sport is about sheer brute force or technique. Together, these sub-arguments make up a whole that feels convoluted and twists back on itself.

Undermining his goals for The Boulder, Sanzaro mistakenly presents his own experience of the sport as a universal one. But not all boulderers follow Sanzaro’s personal trajectory through climbing, starting out with strength and then slowly learning to integrate technique into their arsenal before returning to physicality at a more intuitive level.

That big payoff of improved mindfulness Sanzaro promised is delivered, though perhaps not in the way Sanzaro intended. Yet, Sanzaro opens up a line of contemplation in The Boulder that I hope to see more of in the literature on bouldering, so get a copy, read it and start compiling your responses.

The Boulder: A Philosophy for Bouldering. By Francis Sanzaro. Glasgow, Scotland: Stone Country Press, 2013. RRP AU$18.00 +p&p from www.stonecountry.co.uk.

THE LAST PITCH The Last Pitch: continued from page 56

huge snow dump, but the slopes to approach our cache were shallow and we were satisfied that we were not putting ourselves below any slopes that might let go. Not long after we skied out of camp, the weather deteriorated again. We found ourselves in a white-out of blowing snow as we navigated our way through some monstrous cracks between our camp and our cache. Visibility was very limited.

Despite the storm, we soon found our buried supplies, loaded up, and began our return trip. The wind was strong enough to have wiped out our tracks completely. It was hard, slow going. We soon reached the big cracks again and slowly navigated the hazard. Once through the open cracks we were surprised to encounter a five-person Japanese team descending. They were fully loaded, carrying all their gear—it seemed they had chosen this storm to descend the mountain for good.

We stopped our ascent and stepped aside to let the Japanese team pass. As is usual, we engaged in a little conversation, though none of us spoke Japanese and they spoke very little English. Communication was difficult. Our conversation was short: Us: ‘Are you guys okay? Why are you descending in this crappy weather?’ (We made thumbs up and thumbs down gestures.)

The Japanese team: ‘Windy Corner okay? Windy Corner okay?’

Us: ‘We don’t know. We didn’t go as far as Windy Corner. We just got our food. No Windy Corner.’ (We shrugged our shoulders.)

The Japanese team: ‘Okay. Okay.’

Us: ‘Be careful. These conditions are not good.’

And that was about it. We continued up. The Japanese team continued their descent. We finally arrive back at camp to hunker and consume hot drinks. The storm continued into the night. *** The next day the weather dawned clear. We noticed helicopters in the sky and we heard there had been an accident lower down on the mountain but there were no details. We didn’t think too much of it.

Two days later, we heard that the accident involved five Japanese climbers who had set off an avalanche just above the 3352m camp.

They had been washed into a crevasse. Four of them had died. One

had climbed out to sound the alarm. We realised it was the same five Japanese climbers we had seen descending in the storm, and that the accident had happened later that same day. We were possibly the last people to see them alive.

That night in the tent we talked about our encounter with the Japanese team. We reviewed our interactions. Should we have been more forceful with our advice not to descend? Should we have been more specific about the hazards the Japanese team might meet? Had they been aware of what they might be getting themselves into? Was there anything we could have done that would have made a difference to the outcome? In the end we concluded that there was nothing more we could have done in that moment. We did not feel negligent in our wilderness responsibilities to the Japanese climbers.

In the days that followed, we continued our ascent. We eventually summitted Denali in beautiful conditions, and we were able to spend 90 minutes on top, soaking in the view. Where our ascent had taken 15 days, our descent to the airstrip from camp at 5181m was completed in about 15 hours. A summit and a successful trip for us.

After the trip I kept returning to our interaction with the Japanese team in the storm. Communication had been difficult, but would we have changed our actions even if we both spoke the same language? I think not. Would it have been right to force the Japanese team to abort their descent? Again, the answer would be no. One group can never definitively know the fate of another. In general, offering advice and suggestions is rarely out of place. Sometimes such communication is easy, sometimes difficult. When communicated well, these offerings can contribute to better decision-making. For me, in the wilds, that’s where the line is drawn. It’s also the line we draw with one another; we respect autonomous action and we help where and when appropriate.

We gravitate towards wild areas for many reasons: solitude, challenge, nature. In the wilderness, we largely remove ourselves from rules and regulations and can act in accordance with the situation. No climber or traveller has the right to force their will on another. Being accountable to ourselves in such as fundamental way draws us to the wilderness—therein lies part of the appeal of wild places.

THE CLIMBER ISSUE 87, AUTUMN 2014

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THE LAST PITCH

WILDERNESS RESPONSIBILITIES

BY CHRISTIAN MARTIN ‘One, two, three, shoot!’

‘Rock beats scissors!’

Alice snuggled back into her cocoon of down with a triumphant grin. It was my turn to leave the relatively warm comfort of our tent to once again dig away the rapidly forming snow drift. The storm had been raging for 24 hours, with dumping snow and high winds. We were thankful for our solid snow walls and our safe location because we could hear monster avalanches booming and roaring periodically from somewhere out in the whiteness. *** In June 2012 I embarked on an expedition with four friends, aiming for North America’s highest point—the summit of Denali (6168m, or 20,237 feet). When viewed from the low-lying surrounds, Denali is an imposing, inspiring sight. Denali dominates the surrounding mountains. There are many routes to climb the mountain, some of which are very demanding. We were primarily interested in two of the easier routes: the West Rib and the West Buttress. The technical demands of these routes were well within our ability and experience; the altitude and, as always, the weather were the big unknowns.

When we arrived on the mountain, we heard the success rate so far that season was sitting around 30 per cent. The mountain weather had not been kind.

The most popular route up Denali goes up the Kahiltna Glacier and the West Buttress, and it can be a crowded affair. In contrast to most mountain adventures, the standard approach on Denali does not always provide a pure wilderness experience. In 2012, approximately 1200 climbers attempted the peak. There are five established and commonly used campsites. The National Parks Service (NPS) maintains a presence, maintaining order and responding as a rescue team if required.

By June the route is largely wanded up to about 4260m, making routefinding straightforward. For better or worse, the number of climbers and the NPS presence provides a feeling of security and an informal safety net for if things go wrong.

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Climbers approaching the summit of Denali. CHRISTIAN MARTIN

For those like us, accustomed to more remote settings, the sheer number of climbers and the infrastructure provided felt incongruous with what we generally seek in terms of mountain adventures.

Nevertheless, the sense of camaraderie and unity of purpose shared by everyone on the mountain were unexpected bonuses. Given the numbers of people on the mountain, things are sure to go wrong sometimes. The willingness of NPS staff and the amazingly generous guides to come to the aid of climbers in strife was always reassuring.

Our travel to the camp at 4328m was relatively straightforward. We eased into our load shuttling routine: move a load up 750m, cache it and return to camp, then move camp up 915m and back-carry the load we had cached. This three-day routine would enable us to move 25 days’ worth of food, gear, and fuel up the mountain, and provided adequate acclimatisation to the altitude. The weather was kind to us until we arrived at our 4328m camp, where we endured a good storm with winds up to 100km/h and about half a metre of snow. We woke that morning to the sound of big avalanches exploding from the upper slopes of Denali—awe-inspiring sights that underlined how small and powerless we are in the mountains.

The morning after the storm we could see avalanche debris high on the headwall approach to the West Buttress ridge proper, and several small black dots scattered in the snow. It soon became apparent that the small black dots were backpacks and other assorted gear abandoned by climbers who, during a mid-storm descent after bailing from a high camp, had set off a small slide that had carried their roped team on a short but terrifying ride. The climbers were shaken but alive; one had sustained a serious knee injury and would be unable to walk himself off the mountain.

The snow continued through the morning, delaying our trip to retrieve the food we had cached lower down the mountain. At around 1.00pm the weather cleared and we quickly motivated to descend to our cache. We were aware of the avalanche danger posed by the

Please turn to page 55

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