THE APOGEE

Date: June 6, 2026 Location: Grand Teton National Park, Wyoming, USA Team: Chris Morelli Field Notes: This is a classic and therefore, quite popular. We used the Jenny Lake Boat to reduce our approach time. The 6 pitches can be linked into 3 with an 80m rope and the rappels are all either DBA or trees. We carried a double rack as we linked pitches and brought gear .5 -> 2 with a small set of nuts. Guides Wall The Yeti hunters are back! When I was growing up, my cousin Chris Mo had a small patch of forest behind his house. And I don’t mean some vast reserve of wilderness — I’m talking about a cluster of trees separating a few suburban homes. To us, it might as well have been the Siberian wilderness. At some point, we became convinced that Sasquatch, Bigfoot, the Yeti, whatever you want to call it - was real. (Personally, I still think it exists.) Not only was it real, but it was probably living in Chris’s backyard. The fact that nobody had reported a credible sighting in years only made us feel more like explorers. We never found the Yeti...but we did find some world-class alpine rock in the Tetons. We took the boat across Jenny Lake early in the morning and started hiking toward Guides Wall around 8 a.m. Chris was still feeling the lingering effects of food poisoning from a few weeks earlier, but he soldiered on. Chris walking up Cascade Canyon. Mount Owen looms above. At one point, I was convinced we were going to bail. He looked dangerously close to puking up his morning protein shake. But somehow, the allure of impressing the attractive boat attendant with stories of a successful climb on the way back seemed to provide just enough motivation. At the base of the climb, Chris transformed. It was like a snake shedding its skin, a bear emerging from hibernation, or a bird taking its first flight. There’s something magical that happens when it’s time to climb. The gear is racked, the rope is tied in, your hands touch the rock, and everything changes. Chris flashed that big let’s freaking go smile and launched up the first pitch. If you climb the standard route, the crux is often described as the final two pitches. Personally, I thought the first pitch was the real crux. Awkward stemming, some slabby movement, and mediocre protection made me very happy not to be leading it. Chris linked the second pitch and built a belay just below pitch three. At the anchor, we swapped gear and loaded my harness. The stoke was high, and I felt that familiar anxiety that appears when you know you're about to lead. I started up some straightforward 5.6 climbing before arriving beneath the 5.7 dihedral. It looked absolutely classic. I began leading upward, carefully working my feet higher and focusing on my breathing. About halfway up, I reached the crux and stopped to place an extra cam. I shook out my arms and again brought my attention back to my breath. Then Chris cackled over the radio. "You're good. Just commit to moving up." It was exactly what I needed to hear. I found a solid handhold, wedged my foot into the crack, stemmed my left leg against the wall, and kept moving. Through the crux, I dropped into flow. The climbing above was around 5.6 on absolutely incredible Teton granite. Suddenly I wasn’t thinking anymore — I was just climbing. Before long, I found myself on a ledge, building an anchor and belaying Chris up. I couldn’t help but take photo after photo of him climbing the beautiful corner system. At the top of pitch four, we moved the belay onto a large ledge, traversed climber’s right, and stood beneath pitch five. There were two options: the standard 5.7 crack or the 5.9 splitter crack variation. Chris had already made up his mind. The belay was built below the variation. If there’s one area of climbing where I need significant improvement, it’s pure crack climbing. I watched in awe as Chris methodically worked his way upward, using a variety of hand jams and crack techniques. When it was my turn to follow, I got humbled in the best possible way. At the belay, I gave Chris huge props. That’s one of the things I love most about climbing: there is always more to learn. The growth process never ends. Now it was time for the final pitch. The money pitch. "I've climbed this before, and I know you've got this." Again, it was all I needed to hear. I looked up and knew I could do it. I could see where the crux was, what moves would be required, and how I wanted to protect it. It was the perfect amount of challenge — difficult enough to demand focus, but fully within my ability. The climbing started easily, with good hands and feet, and soon I found myself beneath the crux. An incredible flake on the right side provided the key feature, and I settled into a layback position with both hands engaged. The exposure beneath me was breathtaking. Behind me, the Northeast Face of Owen towered above the valley. This was my first alpine rock climb in the Tetons, and I was loving every second of it. There was one moment, transitioning from the layback back into the main crack system, where things felt real. It was only a body length of climbing, but the fixed piton hammered in by legendary climbers long before us provided a bit of reassurance. Before I knew it, I was through. I know Chris was yelling encouragement the entire time, but I couldn’t hear any of it. My mind was completely blank. All I was focused on was moving upward. Commit to moving up. It’s become a bit of a mantra for me. When you fully commit to anything in life, the answers tend to reveal themselves. At the chains, I brought Chris up and we shared a special moment. We had been talking about reconnecting in the mountains for a long time. We both share the same path of optimizing for alpinism, and when our ropes touched the ground after the fourth rappel, I knew we had something special brewing. Our first major outing together, and we crushed it. Good flow. Good style. Good communication. This is exactly why I left New Zealand and came back to the Tetons. It truly is a different class of mountain experience here. I feel at home. Happy days...

Date: July 20 - 21, 2015 Location: Twenty Five Mile Range, Queenstown, Otago, New Zealand Team: Sam Gallup Field Notes: Park at Paradise Wharf along the Queenstown Glenorchy Road. Climb through a brief section of scrub to gain the grassy slopes heading Southeast to Point 1313. Continue following the broad ridge up towards Point 1845 where it narrows. Care should be taken here. Follow the ridge South to the summit. This is a climb in winter and a simple scramble in summer. Mount Crichton Route Topo Authors Note: This is a trip report from 2015. Please note the beta provided is relevant and up to date. Sam climbing along the summit ridge of Mount Crichton It was nearing the end of my visa and only six weeks remained. 2015 had been a pivotal year in my life yet I still had feelings that I didn't climb as much as I would've liked. The majority of my winter was spent drinking beers, partying, and skiing laps on Coronet Peak. It's funny how priorities change as one accumulates more life experience (or they don't). When I look at my trip log for 2024 there are around forty total big trips with zero nights spent in a bar. In 2015 I probably went on under ten trips and with at least two to three nights a week spent out drinking. What one focuses on one receives. Camp on the North West spur of Mount Crichton Sam had recently fallen in love with a beautiful Chilean woman and found it difficult to get away into the hills. I don't blame him, the woman is now his wife! But the forecast was perfect, we had the same days off, and decided upon a simple mission right near town. Mount Crichton is easily climbed in a day, but we needed a night out in the hills to reset our internal rhythms. Off we went, following Danillo Hegg's route up the North West spur. We smashed through a bit of scrub at the onset, then eventually found easily travel up the tussock spur. Higher, around 1100 meters, we found an incredibly scenic campsite for the evening. It's difficult to recall the finer details from that evening ten years ago, but I remembered Sam going out to pee in the middle of the night and waking me up because the stars were unlike anything we'd ever seen. I knew I was always going to come back to these mountains. Sam climbing the North West spur of Mount Crichton We were up before sunrise and continued up the North West spur. There was not a breath of wind and not a cloud in the sky. Suddenly, we walked into a winter wonderland and donned crampons near the summit ridge. The ridge was spectacular, fun, and airy. It gave the feeling that we were deep in the Southern Alps rather than twenty minutes outside of Queenstown. It was a surreal winter day - perfect temperature, bluebird sky, and a snowy alpine ridge. Sam on the summit ridge of Mount Crichton We took care as we sidled obstacles along the ridge, plunging our ice axes deep into the snow. Finally, we stood atop the tallest mountain in the Twenty Five Mile Range at 1,870 meters. Sam congratulated me with his classic, good shit. I think we both knew this was the final climb together. We've been on other adventures since, but this was indeed the last climb together in the Southern Alps. Happy days... Sam on the summit of Mount Crichton

Date: Winter 2015 Location: Egmont National Park, Taranaki, New Zealand Team: Sam Gallup, Alex Catalfamo Field Notes: Taranaki has to be one of the most beautiful mountains in New Zealand and it is even better when covered in snow. Although the climb can be easily completed in a day, Syme Hut is legendary, and an overnight stay should be considered. From Syme Hut, climb the straightforward South Face to the summit. This is a genuine climb in winter. Mount Taranaki South Face Route Topo Alex, Sam, and I were on the road trip of our dreams. We were twenty-two years old, single, and pumped to the brim with testosterone and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. The road trip started in the Autumn of 2015. We had just spent five months working in New Zealand on working holiday visas. We were following the classic backpacker route: live in Queenstown for summer, party, buy a van, quit our jobs, and go on a road trip. We wound up buying a 1988 Toyota Hiace. Realistically, it could only sleep two people on the mattress. We slept three — head-to-toe style. A frozen Syme Hut We started in the South Island, cruised up to the North Island, swung around to the West Coast, and laid eyes on Taranaki. It was already covered in a fresh coat of snow and is one of the most beautiful peaks in New Zealand. We had to climb it. As we hiked up to Syme Hut, I remember trudging uphill in shorts in a complete whiteout — ice everywhere, wind howling. I can understand why so many inexperienced people get in trouble here. We arrived at the hut, which was frozen and unoccupied. It was a memorable night. We were in this tiny metal bunker, wind screaming outside, and we were three idiots having the time of our lives. Alex above the clouds on the summit of Mount Taranaki The next morning, the sky was bluebird. We were above the clouds. We felt like real mountaineers. We started at sunrise and cramponed up the south face. It was Alex’s first time wearing crampons, and he moved up the mountain like someone who had never worn crampons before. I still vividly remember topping out. Not a breath of wind. Completely above a sea of clouds. All alone. Three great friends on the adventure of a lifetime. It was especially meaningful because it was Alex’s first big, snow-capped summit. Sam and Alex descending off the summit of Mount Taranaki Walking off the summit, I dropped my GoPro and watched it tumble down the mountain. Sam reminded me what an idiot I was. This wasn’t the first time I had dropped the GoPro. But somehow, every time, I found it. At the bottom of the crater — I found it. I remember yelling like a lunatic. Alex laughed his ass off while Sam gave me the look of a disappointed father. He knew I hadn’t learned a single lesson. It’s funny reflecting on this trip twelve years later. It’s still one of those perfect life memories. So much has changed since then — and so many things haven’t. One thing is for sure: the mountains still hold just as much allure for me as ever. A perfect day. Taranaki and Sharks Tooth loom above. Happy days...

Date: February 13 - 14, 2015 Location: Main Divide, West Matukituki, Mount Aspiring National Park, Otago, New Zealand Team: Sam Gallup Field Notes: The South East Ridge a fantastic climb and Liverpool Hut makes a convenient base. The key to this summit is route finding and it pays to be dialed in. Do not follow the ridge from the hut. Instead, begin traversing West towards Arawhata Saddle. Cross a creek and then start climbing up a small bump. After roughly sixty meters, sidle northwest into a gully that leads up to slabs and the glacier. Follow the South East ridge directly up. The crux is a steep slope that tops out less than a hundred meters from the summit. Sidle around the North side of the peak and scramble to the summit from the West. Mount Barff South East Ridge Route Topo Authors Note: This is a trip report from 2015 when I first began my mountaineering journey. It was a powerful experience that I wanted to write about. Please note the beta provided is relevant and up to date. It has almost been ten years since my friend Sam and I climbed Mount Barff. Since then I have climbed and explored the world, but this remains one of the most memorable trips of my life. I think a lot has changed with mountaineering in New Zealand in that ten years. When I first arrived here in 2014/2015, it seemed like the mountaineering community was non-existent and huts were still empty. I remember hiking up to Brewster Hut in the middle of summer to climb Mount Armstrong and I had the entire hut to myself. Another memory of climbing Mount French that same summer with one other person in the hut. When I showed up here ten years ago information was very hard to come by and you could feel just how wild the Southern Alps were (and they still are wild). I originally found Mount Barff because of the fantastic write up from Danillo Hegg. Convinced this climb was within our capabilities, we packed our gear and drove to Raspberry Flat. Sam at Shovel Flat. Mount Barff is just visible at the upper left of the photo. It was a stinking hot summer day as we walked up the West Matuktuki. Although not the hottest place in the world, the sun here is brutally strong. We walked past the stunning Rob Roy Glacier, past livestock, and approached Aspiring Hut for a break. Out of the bushes came the hut warden, brushing himself off as he had been lying on the ground. I'm searching for Kiwis! Did you spot any? Yeah, two little ones! He walked closer and examined our gear as he inquired about our destination. His eyes ravished our new Mammut Infinity 9.5mm dry-treated rope and began to caress it like a woman that had stolen his heart. Wow....an amazing rope... That hut warden, God bless him, was an example of what it's like to be fully immersed and fully alive. With newfound energy, we continued up the valley to Shovel Flat, onwards to Pearl Flat, and then eventually up the steep track to Liverpool Hut. Drenched by sweat we offloaded our gear and looked up towards Barff, immediately intimidated. Mount Barff from Liverpool Hut A few other tourists began to arrive at the hut and were taken aback by the ice axes and rope. What are you guys going to do with that? We pointed upwards towards Barff. Are you serious? Are you afraid of dying? I puffed out my chest as best I could and casually said we got this. Truth be told I was shitting my pants. Barff looked pretty ugly at this time of the year. The glacier was a minefield of crevasses. We spent the afternoon relaxing and enjoying the scenery. The hut is placed in a commanding location with views of the West Face of Rob Roy and the North Ridge of Mount Liverpool. Sam and I used the remaining daylight to scout out the access route to the South East Ridge which would prove to be an excellent decision. I can't remember the time exactly, but our alarms went off very early in the morning. We quickly grabbed our gear and made our way out the door. Just before leaving, someone from the hut whispered to us good luck! I still laugh every time I think of our experience there. The tourists in the hut were more nervous than we were! With headlamps on we followed the route we had scouted the day prior. We climbed the gully that led up to the glacier where we took out crampons and ice axes. The day was gorgeous and there was not a breath of wind. I could feel the wildness of the Southern Alps in my bones. We climbed the South East ridge until crevasses forced us to take the rope out. Crevasses on Mount Barff Near the top of the ridge, the pitch steepened significantly. My stomach dropped. Sam was visibly nervous. I elected to lead the crux pitch and took out my second tool. Except it wasn't even my tool, but from a friend who let me borrow it! We hammered in a snow stake and set up a belay station for Sam. I lead out. A fall to my left would send me tumbling toward massive crevasses on the South Face. A fall to my right would be over bluffs. My heart was pounding. I focused on my tool placements and remembered right towards the top of the pitch thinking, we got this. At the top, I stood up and shouted for joy. I was twenty-two years old and it was the most radical thing I had ever done. At that exact moment, the sun rose above the Bonar Glacier and illuminated the entire mountain in golden light. It was a moment, a memory, etched forever into my soul. Topping out on the South East Ridge of Mount Barff Sam followed shortly and we embraced at the top of the pitch. We sidled around the north side of the mountain and easily scrambled up Barff from the West. The summit was a mix of feelings. For one, we were stoked. But even more so we were just plain scared. This climb had been a big undertaking and honestly, we didn't have the skills to be up here, and we knew it. We didn't stay on the summit for long and were nervous about the down climb of the crux pitch. I belayed Sam down and, with heart in mouth, followed. I can still remember the feeling of relief after getting down from the ridge. Like a shirt that has been wringed of water. A few hours later we arrived back at the hut, totally exhausted. Climbing back towards Liverpool Hut after a successful summit of Mount Barff After a nap, food, and water we knew we had to go. The hike out was going to suck and we had no idea that you could bike to Aspiring Hut. Lesson learned! I vividly remember the pain in my feet as we walked, hobbled, and limped down the track. At Aspiring Hut, we sought out the warden to let him know of our successful climb. How'd you boys go? We did it! It was epic! Nicely done! You should've seen the look on all of the tourist's faces. One by one they stopped through the hut to tell me two madmen were going to die on Mount Barff! What? Are you serious? What did you say? I told them to relax. Once I saw the rope you guys were carrying, I knew you'd be okay... Man, that hut warden. What a complete legend. Sam and I laughed our asses off as we hobbled back to the car. What's even funnier is our friend Alex had been waiting for us at the car for over five hours. He was on his own mission up the valley and since we all shared the car, we organized a meet-up time. We told him we would be back by early afternoon but instead, we got back in the evening. While he was waiting he went from being concerned, to pissed off, to maybe concerned again, to just straight angry. Because we had the keys, some guy in the parking lot felt bad for him and he wound up giving him a beer! I can still look back on this trip over a decade later with a huge smile on my face and I hope it inspires you to find your way to the summit of Mount Barff. Happy days...

Date: May 27, 2024 Location: Lake Hāwea, Matatiaho Conservation Area, Otago, New Zealand Team: Solo Field Notes: A poled route from the parking lot leads to a simple 4wd track up the mountain. Incredible views over Aspiring, the Makarora, and Hāwea Conservation Park. Expect to see a lot of people. Isthmus Peak Route Topo Happy days...

Date: May 30, 2024 Location: Lake Hāwea, Grandview Mountain Range, Otago, New Zealand Team: Solo Field Notes: A beautiful walk in a quieter park of the Wanaka Region. Amazing views over Aspiring and the Grandview Range. Grandview Mountain Route Topo Happy days...

Date: June 3, 2024 Location: Crown Range, Arrow Junction, Otago, New Zealand Team: Flora Yu Field Notes: If you have two cars, start from the top of the Crown Range and follow the obvious ridge to Crown Peak. Follow the 4wd track down to the other vehicle at Glencoe Road. Beautiful views of the Richardson Mountains. Mount Scott, Crown Peak Route Topo The other day I stopped into Small Planet to buy my backcountry ski set up for the season. The guy fitting my boots was an avid mountaineer. I asked him, "how have you found getting partners to go into the mountains with?" His response: "terrible." You'll notice on the overwhelming majority of my trips in New Zealand are solo. I've found it extremely difficult to make partners here. I think the majority of people who participate in mountaineering and backcountry skiing here is very, very small. However, one day I received an email from someone apart of the New Zealand Alpine Club, Flora Yu. I couldn't believe it. Flora is an aspiring climber and had also climbed Mount Liverpool. While we are in a transition season here in New Zealand, hiking still remains a fantastic proposition and an opportunity to continue to build fitness. Crown Peak We chose an easy objective for the day to stretch our legs and get some sun. Flora and I met at the bottom of the Crown Range at seven in the morning. The stars were still glittering at this point as we drove up the Crown Range. By eight we were climbing up the slopes of Mount Scott. There was a light breeze blowing but enough to know that it was indeed a cold wind. As we reached the the top of Mount Scott it was absolutely cold. The wind was coming right out of the south - from Antarctica. The highlight was that the sunrise hitting the golden tussock slopes of the ridge was a stunning sight. Following this beautiful ridge towards Crown Peak As we continued along the easy ridge our conversations slowly faded. This was not because we didn't want to speak to each other. It was because the wind picked up speed and it got bloody cold! At the summit of Crown Peak the views were stunning. We could see Major Peak, Minor Peak, Mount Larkins, Centaur Peaks, and Aspiring. We looked along the ridge towards Mount Sale and decided we were unmotivated to continue to get blasted by the wind, so we headed down. Thirty minutes later we were basking in the glory of a beautiful, sunny winters day. Near the bottom of the mountain we laid in the grass and enjoyed some snacks (mainly Flora's snacks). Although I love going solo, it was great to be in the mountains with someone else. Flora was great company with and I look forward to many more trips with her. For now we need snow! Happy days... Descending to the car from Crown Peak

Date: June 26 - 27, 2024 Location: Motatapu / Soho Station, Crown Range, Wanaka, Otago, New Zealand Team: Solo Field Notes: Fern Burn makes for a pleasant overnight destination on this route, otherwise it's a big day. To climb Middle Peak, take the obvious leading ridge directly behind the hut and follow it south towards Pt 1792. Head east over Pt 1810 and summit Middle Peak. Continue along the ridge over Pt 1752 and ending at Pt 1650. Take the ridge down to the stream, eventually climbing in a northerly direction out of the stream to avoid scrub. Drop back to the stream at any convenient location, fight some scrub and end at the hut. Happy days...

Date: July 3 - 5, 2024 Location: Kepler Mountains, Te Anau, Fiordland National Park, Southland, New Zealand Team: Chris Churcher Field Notes: There is much written already about the Kepler Track as it is one of the most popular walks in New Zealand. Chris and I decided to jump at the opportunity of walking the track in winter with a perfect weather forecast. For three days we enjoyed solitude, empty huts, an inversion layer, and cold, calm weather. A great experience for my first ever trip in Fiordland. Kepler Track Route Topo Takitimu Mountains from Mount Luxmore The Kepler Mountains from Mount Luxmore Happy days...

Date: July 15, 2024 Location: The Remarkables, Queenstown, Otago, New Zealand Team: Henry Frakes Field Notes: The Grand Traverse is considered "one of the finest alpine days in the country" and it lived up to expectations. We encountered challenging conditions and used the rope to pitch the crux sections of Double Cone until we finally stood on the summit. For the climb we carried a 60 meter rope, a set of cams and nuts. Remarkables Grand Traverse Route Topo As winter dragged on in the Southern Alps without much snow to work with, Henry and I tossed around a few ideas. I still hadn’t done the Grand Traverse and was very keen to do so. Henry had done it a few times already so I was pumped when he said yes to the idea. It was a brutally cold morning. I was up at 4 am, brewing coffee, peering out at the stars from my van and preparing for the climb. We met at the base of Remarks and drove up a quarter of the way when Henry said, “oh shit, I forgot my helmet.” Figuring he might need that we turned around. We started the climb at 8am and post holed up to the helipad. The snow was pretty terrible and it was hard not to be negative to see a ski field with so little snow. I am very happy I decided not to buy a season pass. From the helipad the actual climbing began. The temperature decided to turn from very cold to very nice. The sun was out and the sky a blue-ish hue. We traversed slightly below the ridge for awhile and then busted out the rope. The climbing was easy, however, sections of easy scrambling were now covered by small amounts of snow on rock. Henry, being the stronger climber, lead the crux sections. The climbing was fun and the scenery spectacular. We were just two small figures moving alone on an alpine ridge. As the hours passed by, clouds formed and wind rose as we neared the north summit of Double Cone. On top, we rapped down to the col between the Double Cone summits. Here came the crux. From the guidebook description, the route seems to sidle the ridge. With the snow cover, that wasn’t an option so we climbed directly up the ridge. I was surprised at some of the moves and how sustained the climbing was. When I got up to Henry at the top of the pitch, I questioned whether this was actually a “2+.” He felt like it was probably harder given it was winter and how poor the snow conditions were. Grand Traverse Glory It was getting late in the day and the wind had decided to blow - I was cold. We hadn’t done a proper job with hydration and eating. It was one of those keep moving type of days. At the top of the southern summit of Double Cone we looked across at the traverse to Single Cone. I was stoked to actually use my ice axe. The ridge looked airy and fun. The sun was making its colorful descent as we popped up to the top of Single Cone. We snapped a few photos and began the series of rappels off the peak. Like many epic days in the hills, we arrived back at the car with headlamps on. The whole climb had taken us a few ticks over ten and a half hours. Unfortunately, I left my ice axe somewhere after the rappels off Single Cone (if anyone finds it let me know), but it didn’t dampen my mood in the slightest. The Grand Traverse was something I had wanted to do for quite awhile, especially in winter, and it did not disappoint in the slightest. Happy days...

Date: July 23, 2024 Location: Humboldt Mountains, Mount Aspiring National Park, Otago, New Zealand Team: Henry Frakes Field Notes: Bold Peak is a beautiful pyramid shaped peak that sits just southeast of the powerful Mount Bonpland. Climb the Glacier Burn trail until popping out of the trees at 800 meters. Head up the Glacier Burn until angling south, climbing a massive 800 meter gut filled with very loose rock to Point 1731. Climb across a broad shelf (with excellent camp spots) until snow slopes lead to a col south of Point 1973. Sidle around the back of the ridge and scramble up loose rock until gaining the north ridge. Scramble to the summit. Care should be taken on the descent in the gut. Bold Peak Route Topo Almost ten years ago my friend Sam and I had stood at the col south of Point 1973, roughly two hundred meters from the summit of Bold Peak. It was at this point we decided to turn around mainly because of two reasons. First, because Sam had to be back in time for a job interview (where he got hired and then didn't take it). Second, because we were scared. That wasn't the first time we spooked ourselves on a climb. Ten years earlier... Sam retreating from Bold Peak Later that year we attempted Sharks Tooth Peak, a straight forward climb straight out of the parking lot. We chose the wrong ridge on the ascent and found ourselves on steep bluffs. All we had to do was down climb and get on the appropriate ridge to continue the climb, but we got scared. Those early days of mountaineering were so memorable because we didn't have a clue what we were doing, so the fear was there out of ignorance. Every mission felt huge. Flash forward ten years and Henry and I stood at the same exact spot at the col south of Point 1973, debating whether to continue. There was no fear present, rather, an awareness of the conditions and ourselves. The climb had taken longer than expected due to the fact that the snow was simply terrible. We made good time up the horrendous terrain of the gut, however, once we donned crampons it was a miserable post hole. Almost every step sunk through to our knees on an unsupportive surface layer. It didn't help we were climbing two thousand meters in a day either. "We are late," said Henry. He was right. It was completely bluebird, the sun beaming. The snow had warmed and it was almost noon. Our main concern was retreating back across where we came. Old avalanche debris from the east facing slopes of Bonpland reminded us of what could happen. One thing I love about climbing with Henry is the openness in conversation. He is calm, collected, and realistic in the mountains. He speaks from experience rather than fear or ignorance. He is very fit so I know he is not completely exhausted and subconsciously wants to turn around. We bounced the conversation back and forth. Ultimately, we continued on and we felt right about it. The main slope we were concerned about was actually in the shade, staying cool for the descent. What we did do, was set a turn around time. If we weren't on the summit by 12:30 we would head back. Climbing to gain the north ridge of Bold Peak. Mount Bonpland behind. From the col, we leapfrogged each other setting steps to the summit. The views from the north ridge of Bold Peak were fucking epic. Mount Bonpland towered above like the God of the Humboldt Range. We plugged steps up to the summit ridge, scrambled on loose rock, and walked to the top of the peak. Wow, that felt good. Legs burning, heart pounding, and fist bumping with Henry. Life in the alpine can be a mystical experience. Mount Bonpland from the summit of Bold Peak We snapped a few photos, had a quick bite to eat, and left. We stood on the summit for about five minutes. It was relatively quick work to get back to the top of the gut and we decided to give ourselves a genuine break. We had barely stopped for almost seven hours. My appetite was low, but I forced myself to eat and drink, knowing the consequences of a poor recovery. With reluctance we headed down the gut, excited for our feet to touch the beautifully sculpted Glacier Burn trail. Arguably the most dangerous part of the day, I dodged a few rocks and took a spill that sliced my finger open when a pile of rock collapsed beneath me. Care has to be taken here! We arrived back at our vans eleven hours later, treated to an incredible sunset over the Richardson Mountains across the lake. Grateful, stoked, and ready to consume a generous portion of food. Happy days... A beautiful end to a long day

Date: August 2-3, 2024 Location: Tapuae-o-Uenuku / Hector Mountains, Lake Wakatipu, Otago, New Zealand Team: Solo Field Notes: Park at the pullout just past Devil's Staircase Creek and follow 4wd tracks that lead up the mountain. There are nice camp spots on the ridge, although likely bare of water without snow to melt. Pt. 1668 Hector Mountains Route Topo With winter in full swing and a fresh drop of new snow, I wanted to test out my new Jetboil MicroMo and see how good it was at melting snow. I was keen to sleep in my tent as well. With so many multi-day trips in New Zealand involving a hut for the nights accommodation, I feel like I don't really get to use my tent that much. If I'm camping and snow isn't involved, I'll almost always look for a bivy rock or bring one of my all-time favorite pieces of gear: The MLD Trailstar. I purchased this tarp tent 14 years ago and it will be a piece of gear that will last a lifetime. Maybe I'll write more on this piece of gear later. Climbing above Devil's Staircase Creek. I arrived at Devil's Staircase Creek under a bright blue sky. There was not a breath of wind. My pack was strapped to my back and I set off up the 4wd track. To find the track, cross the bridge just next to the parking lot (heading towards Kingston) where there is a locked fence. Hop the fence and follow a rough 4wd track up in a northerly direction before it crosses farmland and becomes more defined. Note: I am always wary of trespassing on a farmer's land. This route is described in the new Moir's Guide. Think for yourself and take responsibility for your own actions. The walk up was largely uneventful. A few sheep not keen to get to know each other, the smell of farm country, the buzzing of helicopters. It felt like spring. I wore shorts and a t-shirt and admired the breathless bluebird sky. Sunset came rather quickly and I decided to set up camp at Pt. 1469. I dug out a platform for my tent and set up camp. I got right to work melting snow and was super impressed with the MicroMo's efficiency. As we enter climbing season where speed and efficiency is of the utmost importance, there is nothing worse than a stove not up to the task of melting snow. Money well spent. The sunset was phenomenal and it was absolutely cold. Not a breath of wind and the stars hyper charged. I wondered if I should howl into the night like a wild animal. We are animals after-all. I went against this impulse, too scared to disturb the night. When I say it was quiet, it was like being in a sensory deprivation tank. The type of quiet that sends a chill up the spine. Sunset over the Hector Mountains I spent that night in a hypnotic mountain trance. Melting snow, drinking hot soup, eating chocolate - but not too loudly! All on repeat until I curled into my warm sleeping bag and slept like a hog. In the morning I quickly warmed some water, strapped on boots and climbed higher up the ridge. I had intentions to climb James Peak but was extremely unmotivated after post holing, sometimes up to my waist, to reach Pt. 1668. Should've brought skis. The sun was already baking me like a chicken left too long in the oven. Already content with the trip, I headed back down to the tent for some coffee and a nap. Late morning, relaxed as I was, I decided to pack up and head back down to the van. It was great to spend a more relaxing trip up high without the backbreaking work of a big climb. Happy days...

Date: August 5 - 7, 2024 Location: Eyre Mountains, Taka Rā Haka Conservation Park, Southland, New Zealand Team: Alessia Bertan Field Notes: A super relaxing three day hut bagging trip in complete solitude. We walked in at sunset to Mansion Hut on day 1. The next morning we bush bashed up a spur to gain Mount Bee ridge and then headed to the Bunkrooms for an incredible day of relaxation. The next morning we walked back to the car feeling totally recharged. Mansion Hut & The Mount Bee Bunkrooms Route Topo The Eyre Mountains from Mount Bee Ridge The Eyre Mountains have a bit of mystique about them. They are isolated, remote, and access can be tough. As one drives south past Kingston and enters the rural surroundings of Southland, the Eyre Mountains climb skyward from farm country. This was not the trip to go on a deep exploration, but rather to explore the foothills and bag a few huts along the way. Alessia is flying back to Italy at the end of August, so we decided to plan a road trip and explore some new areas before she leaves. With an awesome weather forecast in the South it was the perfect opportunity to explore new corners of the map. We arrived at the trailhead on Mulholland Road and set out with the sun making a rapid descent. Our plan was to walk a few short hours and spend the night at Mansion Hut - a two bunk bivy with an open fireplace. The walk up Irthing Stream was better than I thought with the track not being too hard to follow and only one stream crossing. There are many fantastic feelings in the mountains. Arriving to an empty hut after dark with headlamps beaming is one of them. I jumped straight in to getting the fire going with Alessia on emotional support. Mansion Hut is exactly what I thought huts would be like in the Eyre Mountains. Old, small, open fireplace, a bit of rubbish left on the floor, names scribbled on the bed posts, the door handle broken but somehow functional. In a word: character. Irthing Stream gurgled outside and the beech forest whispered in the wind. The stars that night burned so brightly I wondered if they were trying to communicate a deeper message. In the morning we woke to chirping birds and blue sky. What a perfect day to bush bash (Alessia's "first time"). Coffee was consumed and we started up the spur behind the hut towards Pt. 742. Although steep, this was the best part of the climb. After gaining Pt. 742 the long ridge up to Mount Bee ridge was slow and arduous. It felt like forever. Eventually we topped out, treated to fantastic views of the Eyre Mountains covered in a blanket of white with high-powered wind blasting the ridge tops. Alessia with Pt. 742 behind We had intentions to head north along the ridge but decided to head to the Mount Bee Bunkrooms instead. An amazing decision, because, we had the hut to ourselves and it was fully stocked with firewood. Thank you firewood God. We spent the rest of the day in a meditative state that would be difficult to put into words. Hot soup, crackling fire, warm hut, sun streaming through the windows, wind pounding the roof, minimal words spoken. The sunset put on a display that we felt we should've paid for and the stars had us wanting to leave behind a tip. It was one of the best days I've ever spent in a hut. That night we slept like pigs. The following morning we walked the 4wd track back down to the van, celebrating an incredibly relaxing trip with coconut water and a cold plunge in Irthing Stream. That afternoon we headed south towards Riverton in search of waves. Happy days...

Date: August 10-11, 2024 Location: Takitimu Mountains, Southland, New Zealand Team: Alessia Bertan Field Notes: Another relaxing trip, this time into the Takitimu Mountains. Park at Dunrobin Valley Road and walk the easy hour and a half trip to Aparima Huts. Take the 4wd track into Waterloo Burn and climb the northwesterly spur, avoiding scrub, to the summit. Permission must be sought from Waterloo Burn Station to climb South Braxton. Aparima Huts & South Braxton Route Topo After our relaxing hut-bagging trip in the Eyre Mountains, Alessia and I spent a few days by the ocean in Riverton. The forecast was calling for weather to move in by Sunday night, so we decided to take advantage of one final spell of good weather and drive north to the Takitimus. The Takitimu Mountains are named after the ancient Maori migration waka (canoe) Takitimu. Neither Alessia or I had been here before and being mid-winter combined with the fact that we were seeking easier trips, we decided to hike in to Aparima Huts. When we pulled into the parking lot my intuition proved right - we would not be having this hut to ourselves like the previous trip. It was Saturday with a decent forecast. A party of three adults and two children shouldered large packs in the parking lot. That could mean one of two things. Either they were going deep into the bush (highly unlikely) or they were going to really enjoy themselves (likely). We weren't fussed either way and headed off to the huts with significantly smaller packs. Ninety minutes after leaving the car park we arrived at Aparima Huts. I was surprised to see the state of the main hut. The door was left open, flies buzzed inside, trash was on the floor, someone had left their shit covered toilet paper on the inside of the wood burner and the sleeping mats had traces of mold on them. It felt more like a basic bivy than a "standard hut." Climbing the NW spur of South Braxton Alessia and I had a bite to eat, ditched our gear, then headed up the Waterloo Burn 4wd track. Footwear came off as we crossed the Burn and soon enough we were heading up the northwesterly spur of South Braxton. I feared scrub but was happily proved wrong. Travel was easy up the spur and we were treated to a unique view of the Takitimus. As we climbed higher so did the speed of the wind. On the summit ridge we hid on the easterly side of the mountain and enjoyed a moment of relaxation. The wind was blowing about the tops and our minds drifted to a warm fire in the hut. I posed the question: "do you think we will have the hut to ourselves tonight?" Alessia said no and I optimistically said yes. Travel was quick down the spur and before long we were back at the 4wd track taking off boots and socks to cross the Burn. Wow that water was cold. At the crossing we watched as one truck tried to un-glue another from the mud. I didn't think there was a chance that truck was getting out. That mud was quicksand Indiana Jones deep. From L - R: Clare Peak, Waterloo Peak, Mount Hamilton & North Braxton from South Braxton I felt I had to ask the hunters...do you need our help? One of them laughed at my question as I sheepishly knew the answer before I asked it. When we arrived back at Aparima Huts we found them both fully occupied with fires roaring. The group from the parking lot decided to shack up with us while three teenage boys took the old one. I went over to the old hut to have a chat with the boys and hear about their trip. Aparima Huts They opened the door and with wide eyes and full hearts told me about their three day adventure. Crossing rivers, trudging through snow, hopping on slippery boulders, sleeping in weathered huts, howling at the moon. You could see, feel, just how impactful this trip was for them. The type of trip that leaves an imprint on the soul and is resistant to the elements. Like a passport stamp that leaves its ink behind for a lifetime. The folks we met in the hut were a kind bunch. They had brought plenty of wood, plenty of booze, and plenty of sugar for the youngsters. The adults were fascinated in Alessia's Italian roots and shared their positive experiences in her home country. As night fell, the kids tucked away and we adults scooted outside. A fire was started and the sparks climbed towards the stars. With the amount of time I spend in the backcountry, I am always surprised at how little I get to have a fire. This was a real treat. This trip was quite different to our time in the Eyre's but still an excellent time away in the hills. We had explored two mountain ranges that neither of us had ever been before. Back at the van, we enjoyed a delicious breakfast and a cold plunge in the Aparima River. That afternoon we headed north back to Queenstown to end a memorable one week road trip. Happy days...

Date: August 26 - 27, 2024 Location: Lake Manapouri, Fiordland National Park, Southland, New Zealand Team: Solo Field Notes: A straightforward trip on Lake Manapouri, although I would be cautious to paddle it in anything other than light winds. The Monument makes a worthy side trip. There are excellent camp spots near Hope Arm Hut. The Monument and Hope Arm Hut Route Topo I had been dreaming about packrafting for over a decade. The first time I ever saw someone using one was Alastair Humphreys - one of my favorite adventurers. Al is someone who has inspired me to pursue a life outdoors. It also helps that he's a genuine dude and a complete badass (although he wouldn't admit that). The Monument from the shores of Lake Manapouri Earlier this winter my friend Chris and I decided to do the Kepler Track over a nice weather window. We were stoked on the idea to do the walk without much people on the trail - probably our only chance really! On the trip the idea of using a packraft to explore Fiordland was brought up. I told Chris I had been dreaming of getting one for way too long and never pulled the trigger. Fast forward eight weeks and I got an email from Huw at Packrafting Queenstown letting me know that the rafts have officially arrived from the USA. A few days later I saw a break in the weather... calm winds and sunny skies for two days in Fiordland. I jumped in the van (I was already in my van) and drove south. I arrived at Frazers Beach to clearing weather. The cloud was lifting off the ranges and the lake was as still as an attic. I blew up the raft, swatted a few sandflies and pushed off into the lake. There was a moment of absolute silence. I was loaded up with two days of food while sitting in an inflatable raft. I actually laughed out loud I was that stoked. The snowy summit of Mount Moturau breaking above the clouds For the next hour and a half I paddled along the shores of Manapouri observing birds and the different variety of trees. It was so still. As I headed to the George Bay Portage the cloud was lifting off the snow covered Kepler Range. It felt like I was taking out my phone for a photo every two minutes. I found the classic New Zealand orange triangle trail marker on a tree, deflated my boat and loaded everything in my pack. I think it took seven minutes and I wasn't trying to go fast. A short fifteen minute walk through a swamped trail led me to the beautiful and sandfly infested George Bay. I quickly inflated my boat (much faster than the previous seven minutes) and paddled West into Rawin' Bay. Fiordland is not a real place. Towering snow capped peaks. Lush rain forest. Waterfalls that fall from the heavens. Spiritual bird calls. The lake was glass - which way was up or down? Around the corner stood the Monument at 466 meters tall. I pulled onto the shore and walked up the peak where I was treated to spectacular views of the Hunter and Kepler Mountains. By late afternoon I had disembarked from my vessel and arrived at Hope Arm Hut. Not a soul in sight. Unfortunately the hut was trashed and smelled like shit. Smashed beer bottles outside the hut, dirt all over the floor, trash left in the hut, used cigarettes left by the fire place. Disappointing. I spent two hours cleaning, wiping, sweeping, and chopping firewood. By sunset I had a fire roaring while steam lifted from my wet clothing. I looked out the window and was summoned to the lake to observe the remaining days light. I made my way to the edge of lake and exhaled deeply. The end of the day. Sunset complete. Last light. Twilight. The first star flickers above me through a wisp of cloud. Two birds call out into the unlit forest. Ripples of energy make their way across the water and dissipate at the pebbled shore beneath my feet. Deadwood is scattered across the beach. The shadows of the mountains creates a contrast which turns half of the lake jet black. Suddenly I feel everything, hear everything, see everything, am everything. As soon as I am conscious of this it's gone. Like a candle you are enjoying so immensely for the light it provides until, without warning, the wick burns out. Truly, all things pass. Twilight on the shores of Lake Manapouri. The Kepler Mountains in the distance with The Monumnent on the right. That night I had possibly the best sleep I've ever had in the mountains. I had parked myself next to the wood burning stove hearing only the crackling of dried wood and the distant bird call. In the morning I was greeted to light rain falling on the metal roof. Without delay I packed my gear and followed the trail into the bush, enjoying this section of the trip. I decided to climb over Point 477 and gain one final view of the mountains before returning back to my van. Along the way, my mind was brewing with so many new trip ideas and places to access. The packraft is an incredible adventure tool that opens the door to new ways to move in the mountains. Happy days...

Date: January 28 - 29, 2015 Location: Main Divide, Bonar Glacier, Mount Aspiring National Park, Otago, New Zealand Team: Sam Gallup Field Notes: Mount French is a simple peak with a spectacular view. From French Ridge Hut, climb to the top of the Quarterdeck. Then head Northwest along the snowy ridge to the summit. The Quarterdeck may become impassable in late season. Mount French Route Topo Authors Note: This is a trip report from 2015. Please note the beta provided is relevant and up to date. The early days of mountaineering were something so special. Every trip felt like a grand adventure and a quest into the unknown. Our first real attempt to climb Mount French wasn't even an attempt. Ignorant to how dramatic the weather is in New Zealand, we drove up the West Matukituki in a torrential rainstorm. We got as far as the first ford on the road and turned around. I think if we had somehow gotten to Raspberry Flat, the trip would have been a disaster. Mount Aspiring and Popes Nose from Quarterdeck Pass Fast forward a month, and better weather arrived. We decided on having a second go on Mount French - a perfect entry level peak for any aspiring mountaineer. I still remember the walk up the West Matukituki. Massive peaks towered above, beech forest, a clear blue river. The sun beamed down. All of our senses were engaged and all emotions were felt - joy, fear, uncertainty, excitement... I vividly recall the surprised look of tourists to see people walking with ropes and ice axes on their bags - it made me feel like such a badass at the time. Twenty-two years old and trying to show people I had it all figured out. Truth be told I didn't have a fucking clue. Thirty-four years old writing this now and I still don't. The difference is that when you're young, you really think you know something. As you grow older, you realize that you really don't know anything. Time and life experience have a great way of teaching you that. Sunset from French Ridge Hut. From L to R: Mount Barff, Matukituki Saddle, Mount Bevan, & Mount Joffre That night at French Ridge Hut was spiritual. I listened to my favorite album at the time, Lonesome Dreams by Lord Huron, and connected with the mountain gods. It's crazy writing this ten years later that I would go on to climb all of the peaks within my surrounding view. I stood along the ridge, watching the sunset, tears in my eyes, feeling overwhelmed with the power of the mountain environment. The next morning we woke early and climbed through the cut up Quarterdeck and stood breathless as we got our first ever view of the Bonar Glacier and Mount Aspiring. The summit ridge of Mount French My favorite moment was walking along the summit ridge of Mount French, feeling like a real mountaineer. At the time, this was what I dreamed about. It is still what I dream about. We shared the summit stoke together, and I thought this was going to be the beginning of a lifelong climbing partnership. After all, Sam was the one who came up with the idea of moving to New Zealand. But while my heart was filled with the love and passion for the high peaks, little did I know the love of Sam's life was sitting at our share-house back in town, waiting for him to come home. Ten years later, they are married with a family. Ten years later, I'm still chasing the high peaks. Sam and I on the summit of Mount French The key is that you find love, or whatever word you want to use, in whatever you do. People, places, things... Happy days...

Date: February 27 - 29, 2024 Location: Snowdrift Range, West Matukituki, Mount Aspiring National Park, Otago, New Zealand Team: Solo Field Notes: Mount Liverpool makes a fantastic climb over a long weekend. Bike into Aspiring Hut and climb the steep track to Cascade Saddle which offers plenty of scenic camp spots along with water and a toilet. From Cascade Saddle, Liverpool is climbed (along with Plunket and Islington Dome) by following the broad ridge. The crux of this trip are the crevasses along the ridge. From the camp at Cascade Saddle it took me 8 hours return. Originally this trip was planned to go with the OSONZAC club. However, a perfect weather forecast and a desire to climb on snow saw me biking solo up the West Matukituki. I've written about it before, but I simply love this place. It is almost as God himself designed this valley for mountaineers. There are still so many great peaks I've yet to climb...Rob Roy, Avalanche, Aspiring, Fog Peak, Tyndall, Popes Nose...this trip gave me this inspiration to potentially climb all the peaks of the West Matukituki. I'm not super keen on lists, so if it happens it happens by its own accord. I got way too late of a jump on the day and I left Aspiring Hut at six in the evening. Carrying three days of food, mountaineering equipment, and my bivy gear up a 1,450 meter climb was fun work. It took me exactly three hours to reach the saddle. Along the way, the views were incredible as normal. The sunset over Mount Aspiring was one of the best I've seen all season. I got into camp under headlight, quickly unpacked, ate dinner, and tried to get in as much sleep as possible. My original plan was to climb Tyndall on day two, but the more I thought about it I felt like I should go for Liverpool (and I'm glad I did). The weather forecast was calling for sun, clouds, and no precipitation. Being that there was virtually no risk of avalanches on the route, I slept in as much as possible. I was slow moving in the morning and was in a blanket of clouds all the way to a few hundred meters below Plunket Dome. When I broke the clouds and reached the snowline, I was surprised to see just how many crevasses were on the slope to Plunket Dome. I put on crampons, took out my ice axe, and moved cautiously up the slope. The feeling of sharp tools on hard snow is one of my favorites. The air was crisp, the sky blue, the views powerful. I quickly reached the summit of Plunket Dome and looked along Governor's Ridge to Liverpool. What I saw I couldn't believe - there were virtually no major crevasses to avoid! I was thrilled and kept moving. Once along the ridge the views of Mount Edward, Maoriri, Maruiwi, and Maori were stunning. From the Dart Glacier these are imposing climbs. Once above the last climb, I walked across a long snowfield before reaching the summit of Islington Dome. I scrambled up one of the pinnacles, unsure if I was actually on the highest one. To be honest, I didn't really care and am surprised this is even considered a summit. What lay before me was the final ridge to Liverpool and what a treat it was. A layer of cloud had swamped the the West Matukituki to the right while the Dart Glacier was clear on the left. The sun hit against the cloud and created an almost surreal scene. The summit ridge had a knife-like look to it, making the final steps an epic finish to the climb. I found a sheltered spot to have lunch and refuel. It was dead silent and I was alone in the alpine. Right before I left, the cloud cleared a bit and I was able to snap some summit shots. I retreated back to camp, took a seriously cold swim in the glacial fed stream, and crashed. The next morning I woke up to a brilliant sunrise and everything soaking wet with condensation. I hobbled out of my tent, fired up some coffee, and watched the sun hit the slopes of Tyndall and Ansted. I had the idea of climbing Tyndall but I lacked the motivation. By the time I reached the pylon, it was already way to hot. Down I go! Along the way I was able to chat with two young climbers who were stoked to have climbed Tyndall yesterday. It was cool to see them fired up on one of their first major climbs. We reached Aspiring Hut together and shared some snacks before I biked out and they walked. This was another classic New Zealand trip. Powerful scenes, a fun climb, solitude, great weather, and met some nice folks along the way. Happy days...

Date: February 21-22, 2024 Location: Richardson Mountains, Whakaari Conservation Area, Glenorchy, Otago, New Zealand Team: Manuel Freudenmann Field Notes: Larkins is likely best climbed with a base camp from either Heather Jock Hut or Kelly's Hut. The route over Mount Alaska is stunning yet could prove difficult in navigating avalanche terrain in winter. Snow often lingers on Larkins until late summer. Mount Alaska, Larkins Route Topo Map I found myself climbing yet another peak in the Richardson Mountains. A short drive from Queenstown with easy access and low numbers of travelers has me question why this area is not more popular. Whakaari Conservation Area I pulled into the trailhead quite late, packed my things, and headed up to stay at Heather Jock Hut. By the time I left my van it was past 7pm. The walk in was a gentle grade and I enjoyed watching the sun make its final dip below the Humboldt Mountains. The joy of this trip came in meeting Manuel Fredenmann. A well traveled, open-minded, and artistic traveler. He also had intentions to climb Larkins which would make this his highest peak ever climbed. We had a stimulating conversation in the hut and make intentions to be up early to climb Larkins together. Manuel shook me awake at 5:45 and I had coffee brewing in no time. By 6:15 we were out of the hut and making our way up Mount Alaska. The sun made its ritual climb from the east and the colors that greeted us were spectacular. Being that Manuel is a professional photographer and that I do love photography myself, we couldn't help but capture these fleeting moments. Manuel on the summit of Mount Alaska The summit of Alaska was arguably the highlight of the day with stunning colors in all directions. Manuel and I were completely stoked. The mountains provide magic moments and this was one of them. Tearing ourselves away we continued on to Larkins. The terrain felt slow moving as we climbed up and down along the ridge, sidling difficulties as they came. Eventually we reached Kelly's Hut which meant we only had 450 meters of climbing left. We grinded up scree, took a left at the summit plateau, and stood atop the 2,300 meter peak four hours since leaving the hut. Manuel summiting Larkins The wind decided it would blow a rather stiff breeze so we ducked behind the summit for shelter and enjoyed a meal in the sun. At this point we decided it would be good if we knew each others names! From Larkins I could see both Black Peak and Major Peak, two excellent trips. After resting for thirty minutes and taking a few final photographs, we headed back down to the hut. We decided to find an alternate route back to the hut and were able to find an old mining route on the east side of Mount Alaska. Back at the hut I said goodbye to Manuel and took a snooze in the hut. In the late afternoon I strolled back down to the car for a burger in Glenorchy. Happy days... Heather Jock Hut

Date: February 16, 2024 Location: Hāwea Conservation Park, Otago, New Zealand Team: Natalya Lucas Field Notes: Take the sawyer burn track until about 900 meters in elevation where a beautiful route up the south ridge leads to a basin directly below the summit of Sentinel Peak. A cairned scree gully gives easy access to the summit ridge. There is no water en route. Sentinel Peak Route Topo Map For the last few weeks I've been fortunate to spend time with a beautiful person I met in Wanaka after climbing in the Barrier Range. Since that moment, I've quit my job and moved into a van to pursue my thirst for adventure and take a significant amount of time away from work. Natalya and I planned a 3-day trip to test out of the van and I decided we should head up Sentinel Peak, just across the street from our campsite. Sentinel stands like a guardian over Lake Wanaka and Hāwea. Early morning at Lake Hāwea above Kidds Bush We woke up to a beautiful sunrise, made coffee, did some yoga, and headed up the mountain. I was surprised to see Natalya getting off to a hot start as I told her we had a good 1,700 meter climb ahead of us. On the other hand, she is fit and I was carrying all of the gear so maybe I needed to pick up the slack! We climbed higher and higher and the views were simply stunning. We left the trail and began to head up the south ridge of Sentinel. At this point Natalya was feeling the grind of the relentless climb but she soldiered on. We moved along the ridge with the views becoming more expansive at every moment. At last we reached the basin below the summit. It was pretty obvious which gully to climb up and at the top we got our first views to the North. The views were absolutely sensational. The northern ranges of Hāwea are not the tallest, but they are beautiful and spark the desire to explore these lesser visited peaks. A short walk along the ridge and we stood atop the peak. I was super proud of Natalya as it was the biggest climb she has ever done. Not to mention, it only took us three and a half hours to reach the summit. It was a special moment to share a summit with someone I cared about in the romantic sense. That was a first for me. We relaxed on the summit for an hour enjoying the views and solitude. Eventually it was time to leave as we did have a two hour drive back to Queenstown. The walk down hammered us both and we were frothing to jump in cold Lake Hāwea. At the bottom our minds were finally at ease in the cold water. Natalya came up with the brilliant idea of pizza so we headed to Wanaka to fulfill that vision. This trip was one of my favorites of the year - stunning views, excellent company, and a beautiful route. Happy days...

Date: January 21, 2024 Location: Harris Mountains, West Matukituki, Otago, New Zealand Team: Solo Field Notes: This is a fantastic climb straight out of the parking lot with stunning views from the summit. The approach follows the central spur leading directly to the col between Sharks Tooth and Craigroyston. The summit is gained by climbing the south west ridge. The final thirty meters has quite a bit of exposure and is no fall terrain. I would bring a rope in winter / early spring. Sharks Tooth Peak Route Topo Back in 2014 my friend Sam and I attempted to climb Sharks Tooth Peak. We had very little mountain experience at the time and it felt like a big undertaking. To be fair, there has been a big increase in climbing beta over the last ten years in the Southern Alps, increasing the odds of a successful ascent. That day, we chose the wrong ridge in the dark and found ourselves in some very steep terrain. We pretty much just gave up because we were scared. I still don't know how we successfully climb Mount Barff that season. A grade 2 miracle! Those days were filled with adventure. On this day, it was one of the most straightforward ascents of my life. I drove into Gods land - the West Matukituki. Funny enough, at the final stream crossing I ran into my friend Lisa and gave her a ride to the trailhead. We caught up for a bit while I packed my things, covered my face in zinc, and eventually set off to climb the peak. Sharks Tooth is simply stunning from the parking lot. I crossed over farm land and took the obvious spur leading up to the col between Sharks Tooth and Craigroyston. Travel was fast and easy with a light pack and a light wind to keep the heat at bay. As a climbed higher I ran into an obvious trail that took me straight up the mountain. I ran into two climbers heading down the peak but didn't stop to chat for long as I was in total flow. The views were simply incredible and Rob Roy, which I am convinced is a God, dominated the scene. This is my favorite mountain in the West Matukituki and I am very keen to climb the West Face in spring. Rob Roy Peak Once at the col the wind jacked up and I threw on my Patagonia Houdini. I continued to follow the solid climbers trail to the base of Sharks Tooth. It looked quite steep! I ditched my poles and threw on my helmet, working my way up the obvious ridge on the climbers right. The climbing was low angle at first until the final fifty meters or so. From here, the climbing was easy but with tons of exposure. A fall would be disastrous. About twenty meters from the top, I decided to sidle around to the southerly side of the mountain where I found a very exposed ledge system that would lead me to the summit. The exposure had my heart in my mouth but again, the climbing was straightforward. I crossed the ledge and found easy rock that took me to the top of the peak. Happy days. Powerful scenes - Rob Roy Peak above Raspberry Flat The views from the summit were incredible. Better yet, three Kea's swooped in and shared the summit with me - the first Kea I had seen since I returned to New Zealand in October. I took a long thirty minute break and soaked in the West Matukituki and everything it had to offer. In front of my eyes lay Rob Roy, Fog Peak, Craigroyston, Liverpool, Barff, Dragonfly, and even the peaks of the Upper Volta Glacier. Magic land. As with every summit one eventually does have to tear themselves away. Care was taken off the peak and soon enough I was collecting my poles at the base of the climb and the helmet came off. A few hours later I was back at the car where an Indian curry awaited me in Wanaka - but not before the ritual cold plunge. Happy days...

Date: November 17 - 18, 2023 Location: Tapuae-o-Uenuku / Hector Mountains, Queenstown, Otago, New Zealand Team: Solo Field Notes: Permission must be sought before using the track on the Wakatipu side. Follow this track until it ends at a gate at roughly 1,000 meters. From here there are cairns to mark the way towards the creek. Be sure not to gain too much elevation here. Once in the creek, I oscillated between the ridges on the climber's right and the creek - there was no straightforward path. To summit Ben Nevis from the hut is roughly seven hours return with a lot of up and down and sidling. You're unlikely to see anyone on this trip. Bring wood as there was none at the hut! Ben Nevis and Two Mile Hut Route Topo With perfect weather all week in Queenstown, I was a bit jaded when I woke up on my day off to find unrelenting pouring rain. The forecast said it was supposed to ease by late morning, but at noon it was still a downpour. Nonetheless, I figured I would walk into the hut in the rain and have a fire to get warm - neither would actually happen. As I drove south of the Remarkables, the weather was changing. There was a southerly wind blowing the weather out of the region and the sun started to poke out. I always love the lighting when there is a mix of storm clouds, blue sky, and sun. I arrived at the trailhead only to realize that the track to a hut isn't really a track. I'm pretty sure this goes on farmers land even though I've found multiple trip reports of Kiwi's using this exact track. It was too late and I had no alternative besides doing something else, which I wasn't going to do, so I went ahead and took the "risk." The first 800 meters or so follows a 4wd track of sorts up a gradual, grassy slope. The views over Lake Wakatipu are just stunning and I'd love to explore the area by Bayonet Peak, Bay Peak, Walter Peak, etc. I'd imagine not many make the effort to get back there. Beautiful golden tussock and blue skies Eventually the track ended at a gate and from here I loosely followed cairns that led to Two Mile Creek. As a note, the easiest travel is between the 1,300 meter and 1,350 meter contour lines. If you go too high, you will go up and down rather than a gradual increasing sidle. Once I sidled above Two Mile Creek, I dropped down to meet the water. There is no straightforward path here to the hut. I chose to stick to the creek for a bit until it narrowed and then climbed climbers right onto the grassy ridge until eventually dropping back down to the hut. Travel here was a bit frustrating as you can't see where to place your foot through the tussock and there were many holes that I stepped into. Navigating above Two Mile Creek Three and a half hours later I laid my eyes upon Two Mile Hut. It is truly in a spectacular setting as the craggy Hector Mountains rose above with a fresh coat of snow. As I walked into the hut it is quite obvious not many make the trip out here, there was a strong sense of solitude. My only regret was not collecting firewood on the way to the hut! Big mistake! This hut is definitely BYOW - bring your own wood. One thing that will not lose its luster is sitting in a backcountry hut, accompanied only by the wind blowing over the tops and the stream rushing nearby. I laid in complete silence, allowing my nervous system to tune itself to nature's orchestra. After a solid sleep of around six to seven hours, I opened the door to the hut and was greeted by crystal clear blue skies. I actually shouted "yes!" I made coffee, packed my bag, and set off for the summit of Ben Nevis. I thought it would be a quick jaunt to the peak, I was very wrong. There was so much sidling, ups and downs, and terrain changes that by the time I reached the summit and back I had gained close to 1,500 meters of elevation gain. From the hut I climbed to a saddle that looks into the North Branch of Wye Creek. From there, I sidled northeast until I reached a spot on the ridge at 1,950 meters. I was surprised to see how much snow was still out here and was glad I brought my light ice axe and crampons. Navigating snow slopes near Ben Nevis I dropped down a short snow slope and then climbed up another slope to reach a col at 2,000 meters on the west ridge of Ben Nevis. At this point I realized it was going to be a long day out. On the bright side, the scenery was spectacular and the weather perfect. There was a light wind that would blow about the mountains, creating an almost eerie silence. I kept moving as the sun was already very warm and I knew I would have to retrace my steps over those sun-baked snow slopes. At the col on the west ridge, I glissaded 200 meters down so that I could bypass steep, loose terrain. Again, I sidled to the west at the 1,800 meter contour level until I reached the rocky north face. From here it was straight up. The terrain was rocky boulders that had just been covered in a few centimeters of snow - lovely... My route from the col to reach the north face of Ben Nevis I continued my strong pace upwards, and at nearly four hours I reached the summit. I couldn't help but let out a celebratory yell. Ben Nevis was more challenging than I expected. It was also very much worth the effort. I sat in the sun, ate a sandwich made of venison salami, and enjoyed the views of the Hector Mountains. The silence was spectacular. Summiting Ben Nevis Knowing I still had the majority of the day ahead of me, I parted ways with the peak. I retraced my steps - back down the north face, sidled to the east, climbed two hundred meters up to the col, dropped back down, traversed snowy slopes, climbed up another snow slope, and did the long sidle over loose rock back to the col above Wye Creek. I dropped down to the hut, climbed up and above the hut, dropped down into the creek, sidled and climbed up out of the creek, and finally dropped another 1,200 meters all the way back to the car. Woof. Ten hours later, I was very happy to take a cold plunge in Lake Wakatipu and inhale some Indian food :) Happy days...

Date: September 25, 2024 Location: Rees Valley, Otago, New Zealand Team: Chris Churcher Field Notes: A perfect first river trip, even after rain. Walk up the valley and depending on flow, put in at either Twenty Five Mile Creek or higher up the valley. Due to recent rainfall we were able to put in closer to the Hunter, although this is unlikely as the season goes on. Gauge flow for the Rees at Invincible: 25 cumec. We only scraped bottom a handful of times with no walking. Rees Valley Packrafting Route Topo. Chris walking alongside the Rees River Chris and I were brimming with excitement as we drove the Queenstown Glenorchy road on a stunning Wednesday morning. In my excitement I kept calling out the names of all the peaks we were driving past - namely the ones of the Richardson Mountains which I love so much. With all of the rain we were both curious as to how the Rees River would look. However, when we arrived at Muddy Creek it looked just as I remembered it almost a year ago when I climbed Mount Clarke. It was going to be a good day. We shouldered packs and marched North up the Rees. The last time I was here I took the 4wd track. This trip we opted for the actual trail. After having done both - the 4wd is faster and you’re going to get wet feet either way. If I was going on a non packrafting trip I’d just use my bike. As we walked up the valley there were three noticeable avalanches that had released in the last storm. Two on the east facing slopes of Mount Earnslaw and one on the east aspect of Ellie Peak. Unfortunately climbing season isn’t here just yet. It was hard to take our eyes off the dominant peaks of the valley, so I pitched Chris the idea of an ascent of Moira Peak and Mount Head this spring. “You’ll never be the same.” The sales pitch worked and he sounded stoked. As time ticked on our stoke was almost too much to handle. We had purchased these rafts months ago in the dead of winter knowing they weren’t going to be able to be put to use anytime soon. The only trip I had done was on Lake Manapouri - but it was flat water. This was an actual moving body of water (called a river). Our blood was boiling. Halfway between Twenty Five Mile Creek and the West Hunter we put in. We were borderline foaming at the mouth. This is the moment we had been waiting for. Paddling a pristine river surrounded by sandflies with the Forbes Mountain on our left and the Richardson Mountains on our right. I hope I never lose this level of stoke in the mountains. Whether it’s a grade 1 river, a grade 1 climb, a simple hike or a mellow backcountry ski run - it’s all about having fun. And today was beyond fun. We floated down the river, hit a few small wave trains, and smiled the entire way. It was awesome to see Chris totally absorbed and loving his decision to buy a packraft. Chris enjoy some grade 1 rapid fun. Mount Head and Moira Peak behind. When we took out just before Muddy Creek, the clouds came in and the wind picked up sending a cold chill through our bodies. We quickly packed up and headed back to Glenorchy so we could enjoy a celebratory coffee at the one and only - Mrs. Wooly’s. Happy days…

Date: September 29, 2024 Location: Crown Range, Arrow Junction, Otago, New Zealand Team: Emilie Agnew, Kevin Reid Field Notes: From Crown Range Pass head in a northerly direction up and over Mount Scott, following the broad ridge to Mount Sale. Fun skiing east leads to a saddle between points 1617 and 1327. Losing some elevation, head north to gain Point 1308. From here continue north following the bumpy ridge to Cadrona. In all but the deepest of conditions some walking will be required. The route is often skied in the opposite direction. Crown Range Traverse Route Topo Kevin and Emilie near the summit of Mount Sale Spring has tested my patience so far this year. I had visions of some cold, clear high pressure systems with a stable snowpack to climb and ski in the big mountains. Instead, it's been dumping snow and the avalanche hazard has been quite dangerous. As I write this, two people have been buried in the last week and one person dead. With a beautiful weekend approaching the Southern Alps, the first in awhile, I was wracking my brain about what could work. Eventually, one has to question themselves if they need to think that hard about "what could be safe?" The reality is, it's dangerous out there in the high peaks. I don't know anyone who has climbed anything big or been up high. There's a saying I once heard - "the best climber is the one who knows when to stay home." I have observed myself becoming extremely impatient this week and realized that it is not the time to go high. Thankfully I was able to have some open and honest conversations with my friend and climbing partner, Henry Frakes, whom I continue to learn from in more way than one. So, what to do with a dangerous snowpack and beautiful weather? Find low angle terrain without overhead hazard. I was in conversation with two people whom I had met at a crevasse rescue training - Emilie and Kevin. I pitched the idea to them and gratefully they were keen. We started the day at the top of Crown Range Pass to the surprise of a few Asian tourists who were wondering if this was the ski field. One of my favorite moments of the day was watching a small Japanese child stare in wonder as I packed my gear while I chatted to the father. Was that moment planting the seed deep in the child's subconscious mind that will germinate into the next generation of backcountry skiers? Trail runners on, we climbed up Mount Scott until we hit the snowline at 1200 meters. The day was beautiful as we stood atop our first summit of the day, wasting no time and continuing on towards Crown Peak. We hopped a fence or two, skidded, took skis off, put skis back on and eventually hit great touring conditions as we neared the summit plateau of Crown Peak. The wind had decided to blow so we decided to keep moving. I remember my last time up here and know how immobilizing the wind can be if it gets into your bones. Skinning towards the summit of Mount Sale Blue sky against white snow provides a surreal experience in the mountains. We were three black figures moving across the landscape. The snow had softened considerably and we were excited to ski the eastern aspects off Mount Sale. At the summit, we transitioned to ski mode and enjoyed perfect corn conditions into the basin near Point 1327. It was so much fun we decided to skin up near Point 1617 and enjoy one long run all the way down to our transition point. The stoke was high as we regrouped at the bottom and everyone was beaming. I had low expectations of the snow conditions today and was happily proven wrong. We enjoyed a bite to eat and continued on to Point 1308, heading north from here. The remainder of the day was a bit of slog. We spent a ton of time with skis off, walking in ski boots, our toes enduring solid punishment. The southern aspects provided snow, the northern aspects provided tussock. It wasn't an easy day by any means and I want to acknowledge that Kevin and Emilie were fantastic companions. Fit, great energy, good vibes. Good mountain partners... seek and ye shall find. As we climbed the final 100 meters to greet the Cadrona Mountain road, we were way past schedule. No one was going to be up there at five in the evening. In my gut, which I trust more than anything, I could feel that (as my best bro Alex says) everything is always fine. I climbed up over the last slope, looked up the road and saw a truck ripping down the mountain. Holy shit! I blasted down the mountains with skins on. I ate shit. Kevin flew down after me. He ate shit. I got down to the road and flagged down the truck like someone was dead. Desperation in my voice, "can you please give us a ride?!" We only have room for one. "Dude, please...we can sit in the ute." They chatted among themselves. Alright, let's go. Then Emilie comes over the slope. Incredibly, she didn't eat shit. Riding down that mountain road as the sun set over the Otago Southern Alps was one of the sweetest feelings I've had in so long. Like finding a swimming hole after a stinking hot walk down from a mountain slope. As I walked along the ridge tops that day, I kept looking out at all of the mountains there are to explore in this country and the limitless potential they provide for all of the mountain disciplines. I am indeed grateful to spend my days here. Happy days...

Date: October 1, 2024 Location: Rees Valley, Glenorchy, Otago, New Zealand Team: Chris Churcher Field Notes: A super fun and bouncy Class II river trip. There is a Class III section that we opted not to paddle and so we started below the initial rapids. A car or bike can be left at the Invincible Mine Snowfields, or it is an easy forty minute walk back to the start. Gauge flow for the Rees at Invincible: 17 cumec. Rees River: Muddy Creek to McDougalls Creek Route Topo Chris walking to the put in Only one week ago Chris and I had broke our river packrafting virginity on the Class I section of the Rees River. It was a fantastic first trip and left us wanting more. With the weather still not cooperating to get high in the hills, we decided to go back back to the Rees and get some experience on the Class II section. It was almost a feeling of déjà vu as we drove the Queenstown Glenorchy road. We let out the same excited yell as we rounded the corner and got our view of the mighty Mount Earnslaw. That sight never gets old. Chris on the harder Grade II section As we inflated our rafts, there was a noticeable feeling of tension in my body. Although I knew that serious harm was unlikely to occur today, I had never paddled a Grade II rapid before. I spent a moment doing a quick visualization of the line I wanted to take down the river. The initial launch would be the most challenging part of the day. Straight into it. Five minutes later Chris and I were hooting and hollering - the adrenaline rush was unreal. I can see why people get addicted to whitewater and continue to crave the rush that comes with the higher grades. For now, we are stoked to paddle our Class I and II rivers in search of deep wilderness zones. Fun and bouncy sections on the lower end of the run Happy days.. Authors Note: There is a fantastic write up of this trip with detailed information from Huw Miles which can be viewed here.

Date: October 5 - 6, 2024 Location: Pisa Range, Cadrona, Otago, New Zealand Team: Solo Field Notes: The Pisa's might be the most beginner friendly backcountry ski destination I've ever been to. With avalanche danger still high, it was a perfect place for low consequence runs and to spend a night out. Kirtle Burn Hut is a basic hut that is easily reached from Snow Farm in two to three hours and provides great ski touring access. Kirtle Burn Hut & Mount Pisa Ski Tour Route Topo I have been going stir crazy. My friend Alex called me today to see if I had "jumped off a cliff yet." Another climber emailed me saying "I'm going a bit nuts." The weather has been terrible for getting into the alpine. As I write this, the wind is blowing a gale and avalanche danger is considerable. The weather windows we do get are short lived and the snowpack doesn't have time to heal, making for dangerous conditions. I watch the weather forecasts obsessively, probably to a detriment, and knew that I had to do something over the two sunny days we had over the weekend. Northwest towards Dome Rock from Mount Pisa I decided the best option was to head into the Pisa Range. Combined with the fact that there this is a hut I could spend a night in, the terrain is of low consequence, and I have never been there before made it appealing. An hour and change and I was at the top of Snow Farm ready to go. Touring right from the car park - how good? It took two and a half hours to reach Kirtle Burn Hut. I wondered if anyone would be there and to my surprise it seemed there was - all the windows were open. As I got closer to the hut I realized no one was actually there...everything had been left open before the last three day storm. I rounded the corner and got eyes on the front door - it was not a nice sight. Snow had filled about a third of the hut. I got to work and spent the next hour shoveling out snow and mopping up the floors with whatever tools were available. Luckily two Wanaka locals stopped by to help out and the job was done faster than I could do alone. With the sun beaming I left all the windows and doors open to dry out the hut and went exploring. For the first day I decided to skin up to Mount Pisa and ski the western aspects into Cliff Burn. The sky was cobalt blue and a light breeze kept me from wearing just my base layer. The snow was soft and allowed for great spring turns into the basin below. I watched as the kite skiers got lap after lap. Satisfied with my day I headed back to the hut. From the afternoon onward I spent the day enjoying hot drinks, reading, lounging in the sun, tidying up the hut, and absorbing the quiet of the Pisa's. There was a silence that would not be possible to put into words. Like all good trips in the hills, tension submits. Shoulders relax, the jaw releases, the corners of one's mouth automatically go into a slight smile, and eyes become glossy as if one had used a substance. I slept deeply underneath a star filled sky. In the morning I waited patiently in my down filled bag for the first rays of sun to hit the east facing windows. With its arrival I brewed tea and stepped outside. The morning was perfect. The sky a shade of blue that is only possible at the early hour and a pair of Pied Oystercatcher's looked for food in the snow. At ten I witnessed the thawing of snow and began my tour south to Column Rocks. Near the top I ran into another two locals with the man talking so rapidly I walked away wondering what we even spoke about. I decided to ski a northeasterly aspect into the head of Prince Burn which provided some fun morning turns. From there I headed up onto the flat ridge above the Burn where I eventually got one last run, back again, into Prince Burn. I crossed the creek a few times over until eventually meeting the Snow Farm Trail along Roaring Meg. The sun was hot now and I was glad to be back to my home, my beautiful blue van, where I unpacked and headed back to Queenstown. Happy days...

Date: October 10-11, 2024 Location: Fiordland National Park, Te Anau, Southland, New Zealand Team: Chris Churcher Field Notes: There are multiple starting points along the Waiau. The river starts with some Class II sections and after Rainbow Reach it becomes Class I. There are apparently jet boats along the river but we saw none. It is also important to note that there are some strainers and submerged logs. Excellent camping can be had on Lake Manapouri while hut options exist as well - Shallow Bay Hut or Maturau Hut (Great Walk Hut). We paddled the Waiau at 540 cumecs. Waiau River Packrafting Route Topo Chris nearing the end of the Waiau River. Stunning Fiordland scenary. Happy days..

Date: October 14, 2024 Location: Harris Mountains, West Matukituki, Otago, New Zealand Team: Solo Field Notes: Start at Raspberry Flat car park and walk to the spur between Raspberry Creek and Wishbone Creek. Climbing directly up the spur following a sheep's trail until a flat spot at 1,020 meters. Cross a creek and head east through scrub joining the ridge at 1,380 meters. Take the spur directly out of Wishbone Creek on the true left and head towards Pt 2015. Begin to sidle into the basin below Fog Peak at roughly 1800 meters. Join the West Ridge at any convenient point and head directly to the summit. Fog Peak, West Ridge Route Topo After a long period of inactivity in the hills, the climber only wants only one thing: good weather. Good weather seems to solve almost every problem. Depression, sadness, laziness, sickness, you name it! Things come alive in good weather. What good weather also brings is a healthy dose of indecision. The last eight weeks have been simply torturous and my ever increasing list of trips easily doubled. Now the weather was good - what to do? Fog Peak. The West Ridge is the left skyline ridge. I was in conversation with a few people for different trips, but ultimately my loyalties lay in the magical West Matukituki valley. Also, I couldn’t wait. People were talking about trips later in the week and I wanted to go now because God only knows how quick the forecast can change. It was five in the morning when I stepped outside my blue Nissan Caravan onto the gravel parking lot at Raspberry Flat. It was good to be home. Cloud sat somewhere around 1300 meters in the valley and I second guessed the “fine with some clouds” forecast. A fruit smoothie was consumed and I got underway. After scouting the route with binoculars the day before, I took the spur directly between Raspberry Creek and Wishbone Creek. Fast travel was had following the obvious sheep trail that took me to a flat spot at 1,020 meters to cross a creek. Once I skipped across the stones, I headed up and to the east to meet the ridge on the true left of Wishbone Creek at 1,380 meters. Don’t climb above this point as the spur bluffs out and you will need to down climb. Fog Peak and Wishbone Creek center image. I took the spur to the climber's right. I crossed avalanche debris and took the middle ridge that splits the two gully’s, heading up towards point 2015. The snow was hard and the grade steep, so I switched from ski crampons to actual crampons and ice axe. The sun had finally began to touch these northwesterly aspects and everything about me smiled being in the sun. I climbed higher until 1800 meters where I began to sidle east towards Fog Peak. Conditions were stunning and allowed for fast travel. The lower elevations of the valley were a beautiful spring green while the middle and upper elevation bands glistened white. I have never seen Rob Roy Peak look so beautiful. My favorite mountain. From L to R: Edward, Maoriri, Maruiwi, Maiti-iti, Maori, Wahine, Govenor's Ridge, Glengyle, Rob Roy, Avalanche One hundred and fifty meters below the summit I gained the West ridge. The day had been a slog, carrying skis on my back most of the way. My heart was pounding and I had to stop every few minutes for a breath. I looked around. In all directions were an ocean of peaks. Here I was, alone, atop a lofty ridge with my heart ferociously pumping blood to my body to continue the ascent. The wind was non existent and the sun worked its magic on the snow, softening it just the necessary amount for my skis to do their job. I smiled that smile where, you’ve done a magical thing and only you know how special it really is. A few minutes later I stood on the summit. Looking down the West Ridge from the summit of Fog Peak The descent off Fog Peak provided variable skiing up top, and excellent corn skiing on the lower ridges back down to Wishbone Creek. I stepped out of my ski boots and enjoyed a long break in the sun. Truly, this is what I live for. I took a moment to pray and thank God, life, the people apart of it for making this opportunity happen. Sheer gratitude and love for life. Skiing the West Ridge of Fog Peak Unfortunately, that gratitude wore off once I started smashing and falling down the steep tussock slopes! How just one moment ago I was all spiritual and thirty minutes later I was cursing the high heavens! Only the mountains can do this to the soul… At the valley bottom, almost ten hours later, the gratitude had seeped back into my core and I finally could stop for the day. I had timed it perfectly and now it was time to refuel and take a cold bath. Under a scorching afternoon sun, I watched a small avalanche release from Craigroyston Peak. The day had come to an end. Happy days... Looking into the East Matukituki Valley from Fog Peak

Date: October 17, 2024 Location: Main Divide Range, Ōhau Landsbrough, Mount Aspiring National Park, Otago, New Zealand Team: Henry Frakes Field Notes: Brewster Hut had no available space so we opted for a single day push rather than carry bivy gear. The trickiest part of the approach is sidling the north facing slopes below Mount Armstrong. It pays to be diligent and pick the correct line. The South West face of Brewster is a consistent fifty degree face for roughly two hundred meters. The ridge to the true summit is exposed and often requires pitching. Mount Brewster Route Topo Our line up the Southwest Face of Mount Brewster (photo credit: Neil Sloan @ https://neilsloan.smugmug.com/ ) The rise of a full moon in the mountains must be a good omen. Older generations, ones more connected to the natural world would have used the stars and moon to guide their path across landscapes and large bodies of water. As we sidled across the northwesterly slopes below Mount Armstrong, the moon made navigation easy and illuminated our path towards the dominant Mount Brewster. Twilight on Mount Brewster Just a few days ago I had successfully climbed and skied Fog Peak near Mount Aspiring. That trip had barely digested. As soon as I received cell service, friend and climbing partner Henry Frakes had already messaged me about a single day climb of Brewster on Thursday. “No” was not a realistic option. For one, I will jump at any opportunity to climb with Henry. Two, the weather had finally turned dreamlike. Three, I didn’t want to say “no” anyways! Mount Brewster stands at 2,516 meters and dominates the upper Makarora. The current snow coverage on the mountain is sensational due to a very snowy September. We brought our glacial kit but never used it. As we continued our side-hilling below Mount Armstrong, our ankles begged for mercy. With every crampon bite in the side facing slope, the ankle rolls to meet it while the boot stays stiff. Uninterrupted hours of that becomes ruthless. I wound up developing a hot spot on my left arch that turned into a nasty blister. There was no escaping the torture. Six hours in we stood at the base of the southwest face. It looked steep. The line is a consistent fifty degrees for two hundred meters and a fall would be very bad. Up until this point the snow had been incredible, but as soon as we worked up the face it turned to shit. The top layer was a deep sugary faceted layer that made it hard to get purchase. At other times, briefly, it was closer to ice. Henry topping out on the Southwest Face of Mount Brewster The climbing required a level of focus that I later described to Henry as “feeling like I was on a drug.” I could hear nothing except the beating of my heart and the attempt at controlled breathing through my nose. It wasn’t the conditions we were hoping for. Halfway up we briefly considered turning around. Just before exiting the face, the snow that met the ridge turned deep and soft. Henry was unsure and I took a moment to breathe, hoping he would punch through. Eventually he said, “so…you want to come take a look?” It still makes me laugh when I think of how he said it. I moved up next to Henry and was confident we could top out. Every foot placement, every crampon placement, I made one hundred percent. It worked and at seven thirty in the morning we met the sun and stood successfully on top of the southwest face. Alpine Glory. The summit ridge of Mount Brewster. We cramponed up the summit ridge and were greeted with spectacular views. Wild and raw summits radiated out at all angles. A mountain of similar difficulty lay to the east - Mount Barth of the Ahuriri Valley. What was not spectacular was the final climb to the true summit. We stood on the smaller of the two high points, just a few meters in height but thirty meters in length separating us. We had the rope and necessary technical equipment, but the snow quality was terrible. At times, the snow would completely give way underneath your feet. On the face it was distressing. On the summit ridge, it could be fatal. Even with gear the consequences of a fall would be disastrous. There is a time when to hold ‘em, and a time when to fold ‘em. There wasn’t much debate and we headed down. We had successfully climbed the southwest face, our goal, and a few meters in height was not worth the risk. The entry back onto the face was precarious and I took extra care to make it easier for the both us to get back onto the side of the mountain. Down climbing the two hundred meters was arduous work. I was constantly getting showered by snow and ice as Henry moved above me. I kept my head down and move deliberately. I breathed a huge sigh of relief when I exited the face. As I sat and waited for Henry, a sort of trance fell over me. Everything was dead quiet and all of my senses were heightened. I stared at the hundreds of peaks before my eyes, my mind totally empty. As my nervous system relaxed, I became extremely hungry and ate half of my food. The long walk back to Brewster. Henry soon joined and we had a good laugh together at the poor conditions, but stoked on the outcome. We packed up and worked back to the hut. The sidling across the mountain was one of the most painful experiences I can recall in a long time. Our feet were smashed, battered, and blistered. Henry resorted to side-crab-walking-kind-of-thing. It was brutal stuff. Back at the hut we took an hour to recover. We ate food, re-hydrated, and chatted to a few hikers. Eventually, it was time to descend and it took much longer to go down than it did to go up. Thankfully Henry and I always laugh together and it made the descent a bit easier. Fifteen and a half hours later we were back at the car park swatting away sandflies and bathing in the Haast River. All I can say is: it was a trip to remember. Happy days... Our line up the Southwest Face of Mount Brewster

Date: November 3, 2024 Location: Takitimu Mountains, Southland, New Zealand Team: Solo Field Notes: Climb to Princhester saddle and find a rough climbers trail behind a fallen log. Navigate through bush, doing your best to follow the rough trail that breaks above the bush line at 1,000 meters. Head straight uphill to Point 1221. From here, take the obvious ridge up and over Point 1424 then on to the summit of Clare Peak. There is good camping in the basins below Clare Peak. Rating: Tramping, off trail Clare Peak Route Topo It is ten thirty by the time I start the day. It is amazing how fast the seasons change. Now there is so much light. I thought time would slow down when I took a long sabbatical from work. It hasn’t. It’s a beautiful spring day. The sun is shining and the sand flies are hiding. Young lambs follow their mothers through the Southland pastures and flowers burst into bloom. Lower Princhester Hut I take the rugged trail north towards Princhester Saddle. A never ending process of up and down, roots and rocks, and other obstacles keeps travel slow. These types of tracks always cause internal friction because the climber wants to move fluidly but the terrain says otherwise. So there is a feeling of force rather than flow. At Princhester Saddle I head West following somewhat of a trail. In a section of thick ferns I lose it and curse out loud repeatedly as I smash through snow covered bush. The wind is up, earlier than forecasted, and it is blowing like it is trying to prove a point. It is a cold spring day and my lower body is soaked from the snow covered forest. Above bush line I immediately thrown on mittens and a down jacket. I am very cold and I eat on the move. Thinking I am through the worst, I am proven wrong. Steep scree slopes for three hundred meters lead up to the ridge. On the tops now, the wind doesn’t allow me to think and I keep moving. I can see the summit of Clare Peak and it looks painfully far away. The last time I was in the Takitimus was much more relaxing. Some days in the hills are romantic. Today, the Takitimus seem bleak and uninspiring. Multiple times I consider turning around. I follow the ridge, post holing at times or navigating icy rocks. At Point 1424 I take out my ice axe. Down climbing ice covered rock is not on the menu today so I decide to bypass them. I drop down five meters and climb across the side of the mountain, stabbing my ice axe into the tussock while kicking steps into the snow. A slip here would be very bad. Safely across I am on my way now and I smile for the first time since leaving the car. It is a strangely quiet scene. The wind comes in blasts and then goes silent. There are no birds, no wildlife. There is no one around. The surrounding mountains look wind battered. Four hours since leaving the car I stand on the summit and sit down. Besides putting on my jacket, it’s the first break I’ve taken the whole day. I look out across the mountain and feel nothing. The entire day has felt like force instead of flow, frustration instead of fun. And it is supposed to be fun - otherwise, what are you doing? This is what I love about the mountains. They are the ultimate teacher, the ultimate master of truth. It will show you exactly where you are at, among many other things. Happy days... Looking back to Point 1424 (R) and Point 1221 (L) from the East Ridge of Clare Peak

Date: November 11-12, 2024 Location: Richardson Mountains, Rees Valley Station, Otago, New Zealand Team: Solo Field Notes: For access into Arthur's Creek, see the detailed description below. Ferguson and Lapith Peak make for great skiing with close to 1,000 meters of skiable terrain. There are some exceptional steep couloirs on the south face of Long Charlie Spur. Permission must be sought from Rees Valley Station: 03 442 9908 Arthur's Creek Route Topo Spring has finally blossomed and the mountains are delivering. I had considered a variety of different trips for this window and ultimately chose to head into the Richardson Mountains as they will lose snow first before the other ranges. I gave a quick call to the Rees Valley Station to ask for permission and in turn, they gave me some excellent beta to avoid terrible scrub. The Forbes Mountain Range I started mid afternoon under a hot sun. Thankfully the wind was up and it kept me from breaking into a full blown sweat. The route into Arthur's Creek is straightforward but can quickly turn into a shit show. To avoid this, cross Arthur's Creek and look for a clear defined sheep's trail that heads directly uphill. Continue following the sheep's trail until you hit an old fence line. Follow this fence until you find a white pole road marker where there is an obvious gap in the fence. Go through this and again follow a rough sheep's trail through scrub until the ridge is gained at 900 meters. From here, it is easy to follow the ridge line into the head of Arthur's Creek. Once in the mouth of the valley, follow the obvious trail down into the creek and cross over to the true left. Head uphill, gaining roughly sixty to eighty meters in elevation before dropping back down to the creek at 1,260 meters. This route will help you avoid some painfully slow terrain. At the flats, cross over and follow the true right of Arthur's Creek up the valley. There is no easy path forward from here and travel is slow. Mount Ferguson and Lapith Peak route topo I set my alarm for six in the morning, unsure of how good the freeze would be overnight. Part of me felt like I wouldn't be skiing corn until early afternoon, but I didn't want to risk it. At five thirty in the morning I felt like someone was pushing me awake. And no, I'm not kidding. There are things that happen in the mountains that are supernatural. I fired up my Jetboil to brew some hot water and warm the body. By 6:30 I was off. The temperature was absolutely perfect. Cold enough that you didn't break a sweat but warm enough that you're fingers didn't hurt. The snow provided excellent cramponing and I doubted that I would have good skiing conditions. Mount Ferguson is a very straightforward peak and I climbed to the col between the summit and Point 2420. Following the ridge to the summit, I hit a roadblock. A steep, chossy step blocked my path. In ski boots, I wasn't keen. I backtracked and down climbed very steep snow and gained the south face. I traversed over to the east ridge where I was denied again by a nasty cornice. Shit. I worked back across the south face and found a break between the summit and the step. Third time lucky, I dropped my pack and scrambled up to the summit. There is no denying the majesty of summiting a snow capped peak. In these moments one almost forgets to breathe, or rather, there is no breath. It has been taken away from you by the sheer magnitude of the surrounding landscape. Looking around, my eyes were directed to the remote and stunning Centaur Peaks - a mission for another day. My gaze wandered south along the crest of the Richardson Mountains to summits from previous excursions...Major Peak, Larkins, Black Peak... My ski descent from Mount Ferguson It was roughly ten in the morning and the snow wasn't going to thaw anytime soon so I decided to ski down and head over to Lapith Peak. A few steep and icy turns saw me off the upper mountain while lower down the gradient was relaxed. I crossed over to the second mountain of the day and transitioned below the south couloir. The terrain was somewhere around forty degrees and I used two tools to get up the face (mainly because I wanted to see how the Black Diamond Venom LT works as a pair - note: I love these tools). It felt good to be front pointing. I love the methodical rhythm of right tool, left tool, right crampon, left crampon, repeat. On the summit ridge the sun exploded above me. Blue sky stretched out in all directions. Only in the mountains can such an experience be encountered. The views were profound and I could not take my eyes off the Centaur Peaks. The east facing snow was perfect corn and I wished I was skiing that! Instead I was going to ski very hard, very steep snow. I took a ski strap and lashed my ice axe to my ski pole to create a whippet. Centaur Peaks from the summit of Lapith Peak Off the summit I did a few jump turns and traversed down into the gut. I crossed old avalanche debris and attempted to ski the slight southeast facing aspect of the couloir. It was still bulletproof until I hit corn at 1900 meters. Yes! I let off the breaks and opened up all the way back down to camp. Next to the creek, I took a moment to absorb the day before packing up. Two beautiful summits in perfect weather and stoked that I was able to ski them. A true blessing. The creek gurgled nearby and reminded me of the long walk that awaited. I ate, re-hydrated, organized my gear and shouldered my very heavy pack. My ski line off Lapith Peak It took the same amount of time to get out as it did to get in! Five hours on the trot under a scorching New Zealand sun. Back in the valley the wind rushed down the flanks of the mountains and I happily greeted it. I hadn't seen anyone the whole trip until I met two climbers on their way to "climb Earnslaw before the rain." Go get some. Eleven and a half hours later I got back to the car to end another spectacular trip. Happy days...

Date: November 17, 2024 Location: Harris Mountains, West Matukituki, Otago, New Zealand Team: Rob Fraser Field Notes: This is a relentlessly steep mountain. Start as Raspberry Flat car park, hop the fence and walk across a brief section of farm land. Head directly up through bluffs, aiming to join the North West Ridge at 1,200 meters. Follow the ridge, sidling obstacles as they arise. An alternate option would be climbing the terrain just off the ridge to the West. Continue following the ridge higher up until a few hundred meters below the top. It is not necessary to cross the nasty gut. Pick any convenient line that joins the West Ridge to the summit. This peak would best be climbed in early season with snow. Craigroyston Peak, North West Ridge Route Topo The route through the bluffs to gain the North West Ridge of Craigroyston Rob and I arrived at the parking lot the day prior to scout out conditions. We had originally intended to ski Craigroyston, but as we drove up the West Matukituki it seemed unlikely. I can't believe how quickly the snow was melting. We made a quick dinner and headed up the valley to get a better view of the upper mountain conditions. We were definitely not skiing. With neither of us packing mountaineering boots Rob came up with the brilliant idea of chucking our ski boots in our backpacks and using them once we hit snow. Problem solved. We packed it in early and set our alarms for just after five. The North West Ridge of Craigroyston Peak Besides a sheep yelling outside of the van, we slept peacefully. The morning was cold and we were off at six. We appreciated how direct the route was, however, the terrain was brutally steep. My legs didn't feel fully recovered from my trip earlier in the week in the Richardson Mountains and it was going to be a long day. Two hours in and we gained the ridge at 1,200 meters. From here we followed the North West ridge steeply up, sidling obstacles as they arose. The views were sensational as always and it felt great to have a super fit partner with a great attitude on this trip. We climbed higher and got our first view of the summit at 1,900 meters. There was plenty of snow now and we were stoked to take out the sharp stuff. Crampons on and ice axes out we traversed slightly below the ridgeline and worked our way to the obvious snow ramp that lead up to the summit ridge. The climbing was easy and straightforward. Snow conditions were excellent. Rob is a fit dude with a background in mountain / ultra running. I'd like to think I'm also pretty mountain fit as well. Today, we were huffing and puffing like cigarette smokers! Finally, about five hours in we reached the top. Happy days. The views were as expected - incredible. It was cool to look along the true right of the valley and look at the other peaks I've been fortunate to summit - Fog Peak, Sharks Tooth, Liverpool, Barff. The next phase is to climb the major summits on the true left! Rob following the West Ridge to the summit of Craigroyston Peak We allowed ourselves ten minutes on the top before our descent. The snow was warming and it wasn't necessary to stay for long. We shot a few pictures and videos and began the descent. I'll save the details, but it was a leg burner and our quads were screaming by the time we reached the van. Thankfully, I packed a few cold juices and we headed straight to the West Matukituki for a cold plunge. Happy days... Rob heading down after a successful summit of Craigroyston Peak

Authors Note: click here for a successful attempt of Homestead Peak. Date: November 23, 2024 Location: West Wanaka Mountains, West Matukituki, Mount Aspiring National Park, Otago, New Zealand Team: Solo Field Notes: Start at Raspberry Flat and follow the track all the way to the final lookout. Head north following the 820 meter contour until heading uphill in a northwesterly direction, aiming for the small tarn on the map (which has disappeared) at 1,220 meters. From here climb steeply to 1600 meters, sidling steep terrain, until in the basin below the summit. Easy snow slopes lead to a straightforward but exposed scramble along the North Ridge. Homestead Peak Attempt Route Topo I can’t believe I found myself driving up the West Matukituki again. It’s been the third trip here in the last 5 weeks. However, this time felt different. I didn’t feel recovered from Craigroyston a few days ago. The last five weeks has seen a lot of hard trips. Specifically, one week ago I put in five thousand meters of climbing, the most I’ve ever done in a week. The following seven days my body has felt exhausted. Since a big injury seven years ago I’ve developed a deeper relationship with my body and am tuned it to what it needs. We are conditioned to look externally for internal answers. The government, doctors, “science,” God, our parents, our smart watch, teachers, mentors…the list goes on. Everything I mentioned above is a valuable tool and has its place. But Ultimately, there is no wisdom like the wisdom of the body. The wisdom of the body that has been developed for hundreds of millions of years. Nature has an undeniable rhythm that has been working effectively - forever. And to tune into your body and develop an intimate relationship with is powerful. Today I broke that practice. I went to bed the night before knowing that I shouldn’t go up the mountain. I should take it easy. But no, the mind has other plans. Typically plans that go against the wisdom of the body. Rob Roy Glacier Bridge So at six fifteen in the morning I was off. I crossed the bridge over the Matukituki and headed towards Rob Roy Glacier. It was my first time here and the view was stunning. As I left the track and followed Rob Roy Stream, a MASSIVE piece of the glacier broke loose above me. When I say massive, it was fucking huge. In that instant I thought, holy shit…what if this runs to the valley? I started wind sprinting uphill. Thankfully, there is a massive shelf at Point 1176 that catches all the debris from the glacier and I laughed out loud. I continued to move slow and at 1200 meters reached a level area completely filled with size 3 avalanche debris. Whoa. At four hours in I put crampons on. I couldn’t believe how hot it was already. The freezing level was forecasted at 2,000 meters rising to 2,400 meters in the morning. As I climbed higher, the route began to sidle steeper north facing terrain under Point 1917 at roughly 1600 meters. The snow was already very wet and my foot punched through twice. I took off my cap and wiped a big layer of sweat off my forehead while I looked around. There was avalanche debris everywhere on every aspect. I dug down 50cm in the snowpack to discover that snow was already soaked. The freeze had broken down rapidly. I still had four hundred meters to the summit and this slope would only get more intense solar radiation as the sun moved from East to West. There’s a good rule I picked up from Cody Townsend: go until it doesn’t make sense anymore. It didn’t make sense anymore. I also wasn’t having fun either, so I bailed. I don’t think the chances of getting in an avalanche this day was absurdly high, but in that moment I genuinely didn’t want to be on that mountain. My body sent me a strong message before the climb that I ignored. I wasn’t going to do it again. I felt it was getting risky, for no reason, and emotionally and physically I wasn’t there. So why the fuck would you go on? If you never listen to your intuition you will never know the truth about yourself. You will spend your entire life looking out. The East Ridge of Rob Roy Low Peak Turning around in the mountains is a skill, not an error. Paul Newman said it best, “sometimes having nothing is a pretty cool hand.” Human beings would be the only animal on the planet that would judge or shame themselves (or another) when walking away from a potentially dangerous situation. The mountains for me is a sacred place. A place of worship and a place of freedom. It’s where I go to get in touch with reality and what is true. For it to remain that way for me, I need to go when I feel inspired and stay home when unmotivated. Climb higher when there is alignment between body, soul, and mountain and go home when there is division. Enjoy your life and as always, happy days…

Date: December 27, 2024 Location: Richardson Mountains, Rees Valley Station, Glenorchy, Otago, New Zealand Team: Solo Field Notes: Start at the Invincible Mine Heli Pad and take the 4WD track uphill. At 760 meters, the track ends in a clearing. Turn to the north and look for a clearly defined sheep trail that heads through a tight scrub belt. The trail emerges from the scrub at 820 meters. Cross a small creek to the north and continue heading uphill towards McDougalls Spur. Enter the creek at 1,360 meters staying mainly on the true right. At 1,560 meters an obvious spur leads directly up to the basin below the summit where great camping can be found. Aim for the col between Stair Peak and Point 2149. Take the North Ridge to the summit. Make sure to get permission from Rees Valley Station: 03 442 9908 Stair Peak Route Topo One of my favorite things about being in the mountains is developing an intimate relationship with a specific set of peaks. By spending time in one mountain range, you get to know the rock, animals, and climate that make it unique. You begin to figure out the optimal time to climb and ski. One learns the access routes, camping locations, and secret bivy's. And of course, you get to know the people. When I called the Rees Valley Station for permission to access the land near Invincible Mine, Iris (one of the landowners) was happy to hear my voice. Mike! It's great to hear from you again... A huge smile spread across my face. It was going to be another great trip. The Humboldt Mountains from the Rees Valley I woke at five-thirty in the morning to low cloud in the valley. Birds sang out and you could tell it was going to be a miracle of a day. I quickly made breakfast, a coffee, and set out. I took the 4WD track that starts on the true left of McDougalls Creek at the Invincible Mine Heli Pad. I hopped the gate and appreciated the gentle incline as a warm-up. At 760 meters, the track ends in a clearing. To the north, a clearly defined sheep trail leads up through tight scrub before emerging at a small creek. I crossed the creek and went uphill in an easterly direction. Like I've written so many times before, the morning was spectacular. Cloud hung in the valley while the Humboldt and Forbes Mountains towered above. Earnslaw is the eye-catcher, but I was drawn more to the remote summits of Mount Head and Moira Peak at the back of the Rees Valley. I continued uphill through open tussock country, appreciating the scrub-free travel. I was making excellent time and I felt light on my feet. Soon enough I was entering the creek south of McDougalls Spur with Stair Peak looming above. On the approach, I sidled forty meters above the creek. On the descent, I followed the creek. The latter is significantly easier. Prince of Wales Flat, The Flood Burn, and Mount Aurum from Stair Peak At 1,560 meters an obvious spur leads directly up into the basin below Stair Peak. I took this and continued to make fast travel. My ice axe and crampons were totally unnecessary today, but being so lightweight, I wasn't fussed. I climbed directly to the col between Point 2149 and Stair Peak. Three hours and thirty minutes after leaving the car I stood on the football field sized summit. The views were not as dramatic as other summits along the Richardson's, such as Lapith Peak or Stone Peak, but I did appreciate the view into the Flood Burn and Mount Aurum. I took my summit photos, had a bite to eat, re-hydrated and went on my way. Travel was fast off the peak as I boot-skied down the scree. Stopping only for a quick drink in the fresh stream, I skipped my way back along the creek. Surprisingly, the descent took roughly the same amount of time as the ascent. As always I was happy to be back at my van for some fresh fruit and my ritual recovery protein shake to cap off a perfect summer day. Happy days...

Date: December 31, 2024 Location: The Remarkables, Queenstown, Otago, New Zealand Team: Solo Field Notes: A straightforward trip with easy access from Wye Saddle. The upper sections offer fun scrambling on good rock. The South East gully provides an easy descent with bolted anchors for rappelling Single Cone North East Ridge Route Topo The North East Ridge of Single Cone from Wye Saddle I woke up to beautiful weather in Queenstown and wanted to get into the hills. The Remarkables offer quick and easy access to alpine terrain and I had always wanted to do the scramble up the North East Ridge of Single Cone. I finished work early, loaded up my climbing gear, and drove the long and windy road to Remarkables ski field. While the weather in town was sunny and warm, at 1800 meters it was cool, windy, and cloudy. I threw an extra layer into my bag and set off. Summer access to Wye Saddle is super fast. I followed the established trail and within an hour I was at the base of the North East Ridge. The upper sections looked pretty steep and I was curious at their difficulty. The guidebook says, "the upper rock steps are steeper than they look." If I were to rewrite the description, I might write, "The upper rock steps are easier than they look." I found the scrambling moderate, with great holds on solid rock. It was super refreshing to go on a climb where choss and scree were not constantly being dislodged from the mountain. At the summit, clouds circled in, obstructing my view. Fortunately, Henry and I had stood on this summit before when we had done a winter climb of the Grand Traverse in clear weather. I didn't stay on top for long and headed over to the South East gully for my descent. I inspected the rappel station, fixed my Petzl Rad Line to it, and rappelled down. With just two rappels I was back on solid ground and was able to quickly make my way back to the car. Only three and a half hours round trip car to car while not rushing in the slightest. This is an excellent half-day out on fun rock! Happy days...

Date: January 4 - 5, 2025 Location: Main Divide, Bonar Glacier, Mount Aspiring National Park, Otago, New Zealand Team: Solo Field Notes: From French Ridge Hut, climb French Ridge to gain Quarterdeck Pass. Drop down to the Bonar Glacier, head east, and climb the Flight Deck to avoid gendarmes on the lower part of the ridge. Climb to 2,400 meters where the West Ridge is gained. Climb steeper terrain until a flat area is reached. The final climb is a 140 meter slab of grade 10 rock. There are plenty of solid cracks which allow for straightforward climbing. A rope could be useful for the descent. Mount Avalanche West Ridge Route Topo My van rattled loudly as I drove up the West Matuktuki - again. How many times would I make the drive this season? I can't deny that climbing all of the mountains in this zone have turned into a goal of mine. From the first time I ever came into the West Matukituki I knew this place was beyond special and I've wanted to deepen my relationship with it ever since. I can't think of anything more intimate than reaching all of its distinct high points. Shovel Flat, West Matukituki Mount Avalanche is one of the mountains I've wanted to climb the most. From the road coming into Raspberry Flat, the East Peak and the Avalanche Glacier dominate the scene. From French Ridge, the West Ridge looks extremely imposing. It is a stunning mountain. I knew the Quarterdeck was still in good shape and I had an excellent weather forecast, so I loaded up my gear and made the drive. The road was rutted out so badly that my radio stopped working. My van is a loud van and when it shakes I subconsciously harbor the fear that it will just explode (even though it is in excellent mechanical condition). Soon enough I was done rattling in the van and began rattling on my bike up to Aspiring Hut. Huffing and puffing I made it there in an hour. The weather was beautiful. A few wisps of cloud, a breeze blew down the valley, and sandflies bit at exposed skin. I continued on foot, crossed the swing bridge at Pearl Flat, and began the climb up to French Ridge Hut. The first six hundred meters of the track are quite steep and I listened to Talking Heads to keep up the stoke. At 1,100 meters it levels out and I was grateful to just simply walk instead of scramble. The hut was fully booked and I considered setting up my tarp. However, some extremely friendly tourists invited me inside and had no problem with me sleeping on the floor. From L to R: Mount Barff, Mount Bevan, Bevan Col, Mount Joffre from French Ridge In the outdoor community in New Zealand, which is a lovely community, it is quite common to hear a lot of negative comments directed towards tourists. Most of these often complain that they overcrowd huts, campsites, walking tracks, etc. Some of these comments can be quite cynical. I could write more on the hypocrisy of this subject another time, but the point I'll make for now is this: overwhelmingly, the kindest people I meet in the mountains are tourists. At French Ridge, the interest the "tourists" took in my trip intentions, the climb, the gear, my life story, etc. made me miss life on the road. Travelers are naturally curious people. And to some degree, we are all tourists. At four-thirty, my alarm went off. At five-fifteen, I woke up again and realized I had slept through my alarm. At five-thirty, I was out the door. The Quarterdeck at sunrise The Quarterdeck was in excellent condition. However, the wind was seriously strong and one gust actually blew me over. In my head, I already made the decision that I was not going to climb the exposed slabs on the West Ridge in these conditions. Because it was so early I decided to continue on to the base of the climb in hopes that the wind would abate. Up and over the Quarterdeck, I descended the Bonar and headed east to climb the Flight Deck. I was happy with my decision to bring my ultralight 10 point crampons as anything more would be overkill for the low-angle snow terrain. About three hours since leaving the hut I was under the slabs on the West Ridge. Slabs on the West Ridge of Mount Avalanche The wind was still howling. Clouds moved rapidly above my head. Fortunately, the wind was coming from the east, and the summit acted as a shield. Climb on! Although the one-hundred-and-fifty-meter slab looked daunting, I found the climbing to be simple. There were huge cracks on the face that provided solid holds. I moved silently up the face, focusing on every detail. Towards the top, the rock quality deteriorated but the climbing became easier. Mount Avalanche Middle and East Peak from the summit of the High Peak Finally, I stood alone atop the peak. The wind blew, clouds swirled, the sun beamed. I felt how lucky I was. My thoughts turned to my Grandmother. It was her funeral today and I knew my dad was grieving. I recorded a video for him and shed a few tears in the process. The mountains bring out every emotion. Although I brought my sixty-meter RAD line, I never used it. I found down-climbing the slabs to be very straightforward. There is a lot of rappel tat on that mountain and I wouldn't trust any of it. I was happy to be back on solid ground on the Flight Deck and merrily made my back up to the Quarterdeck and down to French Ridge. My legs were cooked by the time I reached the valley floor. It was stinking hot and I dreamed of my ritual cold plunge post-trip. Plus I knew I had a cold sparkling coconut water in my fridge at the van! Motivated by the end of temporary suffering, I hoofed it out of the valley, only to return again soon... Happy Days...

Date: January 11, 2025 Location: West Wanaka Mountains, West Matukituki, Mount Aspiring National Park, Otago, New Zealand Team: w/ Henry Frakes Field Notes: The original trip intention was to do Rob Roy Low to High Peak Traverse in a day carrying full alpine kit. However, in the early morning the snow was not cooperating and we wound up sleeping on a rock. At sunrise we walked over to Homestead Peak and scrambled up the North West Ridge. The climb has some steeper, exposed sections with very loose rock. Homestead Peak & Rob Roy / Glacier Burn Col The Southern Alps have been blessed with stable weather recently, and thankfully, it aligned with Henry’s days off. Climbing with Henry has both positive and "negative" aspects. The positives are that he is highly skilled, positive, has excellent communication skills, is level-headed, extremely fit, mentally tough, and competent. There is only one "negative" - every trip will be massive! Jokes aside...I am stoked to have a climbing partner and friend who enables me to grow in the mountains. But if I am being real, every trip does turn into a big one… Bold Peak: 11 hours Remarkables Winter Grand Traverse: 10.5 hours Mount Tyndall: 10.5 hours Mount Brewster: 15.5 hours Our original plan was to do the Low to High Peak traverse of Rob Roy over two days. As the days got closer to the start of the trip Henry pitched the idea of doing it in one day. Rob Roy High Peak and Low Peak. Our goal was to traverse from right (Low Peak) to left (High Peak). This would be something like 50 km, 2700 meters of climbing requiring a trad rack, two ice tools, rope, and a glacier kit. To be fair, doing it in a day makes it a harder day but doesn’t necessarily mean it’s a harder trip. You still have to carry all of that bivy gear and food. So we opted to do it in a day. Or rather, I was "convinced." At 10 pm on Friday night, we set off. I had been up this way before on an aborted attempt of Homestead Peak and felt confident about the route by following my previous GPX track. In the dark is a different story and we found up fucking around in scrub for a bit. Henry and I both agreed it really sucked. Eventually, we got to the tarn (no longer there) at 1200 meters and had a quick bite to eat. The terrain so far had been frustrating and the mountains were cloaked in a thick band of fog. We both started to doubt the trip and shared our concerns. It was also very, very warm. None of these things aligned with the forecast. We climbed a steep tussock spur and then sidled ugly terrain at 1,540 meters. At this point, we voiced that if the cloud had not dispersed we were aborting the climb. There were too many unknowns: - We had never climbed the route or been on the Avalanche Glacier. - We didn’t know of a single person who had ever climbed the Low to High Peak traverse. - We had low confidence in the forecast. When we hit the snow another problem came up - it was completely isothermic, a wet mess. Thinking it may just be the lower elevation, we climbed to 1850 meters with the same result. Game over. Not happening this time. We found a rock to lay on, put on a puffy, and fell asleep. At 4:30 in the morning, we got out of the stove and brewed some coffee. I waited for the caffeine to hit and convinced Henry to climb Homestead Peak. He really didn’t want to, but when I explained to him that I was never coming up here again unless it was for Rob Roy, he said yes. What a guy! We romped over to the North West Ridge and scrambled the loose, exposed terrain to the summit. Our view was obscured by the cloud and spent less than ten seconds at the high point. There was a brief moment of happiness as we glissaded down the snow. It had been one of the most mentally challenging days I can remember in a long time. The stress of a big climb on an unknown route, a very long day, climbing through the night on no sleep, carrying all of the rope and technical gear, rough terrain, and a frustratingly wrong forecast. As my buddy Alex said to me when I recapped the trip to him, “That’s the mountains for ya.” Post-trip I slept for twelve hours straight. It’s just amazing what good sleep can do and how it can make you forget all of the difficulties you experienced. Not even twenty-four hours from finishing, Henry and I were already texting each other about going back. Happy days… Henry on frustrating terrain

Date: January 16-18, 2025 Location: Main Divide, Bonar Glacier, Mount Aspiring National Park, Otago, New Zealand Team: Solo Field Notes: To reach Bevan Col, take the Upper West Matukituki Valley Track to Scotts Rock Biv. Although the track is "unmaintained," the route is cut with the occasional pole. At 1,000 meters the track climbs above a waterfall and into a gut. Head to the climbers right (northeast) up a series of slabs until a flat area is reached at 1300 meters with great camping spots. From here, initially head north to avoid steep terrain, then swinging back around to the east/southeast to gain easy rock and snow slopes the lead directly up to the Col. Bevan is climbed directly from the Col which I found to be surprisingly steep with terrible rock quality. Joffre is best climbed by sidling around the rocky ledges at the Col and getting onto the edge of the Bonar. If you sidle too high you will get bluffed out. Walk along the Bonar to the base of Joffre where an easy ramp can be found at the southern end of the peak. Take the ramp and walk to the summit. The Bevan Col slabs would be dangerous in bad weather. It's been a spring and summer to remember. Since the torrential weather in September, there have been countless fine spells that have allowed for many grand days of skiing, mountaineering, and tramping. Unsurprisingly, I found myself gearing up for another trip up the West Matukituki. The original intention was a light and fast attempt on the North West Ridge of Aspiring, but Henry's ankle wasn't cooperating so I had to shift gears. Cascade Saddle, Plunket Dome, and Governor's Ridge from the West Matukituki I figured a great idea was to head up to Bevan Col and climb a few lesser-visited peaks in the region. This would allow me to scout the route and get more in tune with a part of the Matukituki I've yet to explore. I wanted two nights out in the hills, so on day one I started late and ended late. Camp was set up in the dark. I found a nice little spot next to the river on a sandy patch. To no surprise, sandflies woke me up in the early hours. I quickly packed and headed up the valley towards the infamous Bevan Col slabs. At the head of the valley, I skirted around the waterfall on a ground trail. A large cairn indicated the start of the slabs and I followed a trail to the top. At 1,300 meters I arrived at a clearing with wonderful camp spots. I was unsure if I had actually climbed the slabs because there was a distinct ground trail the whole way up. I dropped my overnight gear here, buried it under rocks to avoid the Kea's, and continued up to the Col. The climbing was fast. A good cairn system marks the whole way and I never had to put on crampons. I was using my ultralight system on this trip: ultralight axe, 10-point flexible crampons, and light hiking footwear. Anything else would be completely unnecessary. At the top of the Col, I stopped at an idyllic tarn and admired the stunning South West Ridge of Mount Aspiring. It beckons to be climbed next season. To my left stood Bevan and I wandered up the slopes. It's a short climb from the Col but it looked very steep. The rock was of atrocious quality with plenty of choss. I kept saying out loud "fucking hell this is steep for a Grade 1." I climbed the direct East Ridge from the Col, wondering if for some reason I was off route. There were two distinct steps on the climb where a fall would be extremely consequential. The rappel tat confirmed this. The views from the summit were spectacular. Mount Aspiring, the mountains of the Bonar, the remote Waipara Range, Barff, and the lower Matukituki. It was stunning. I didn't hang out for long and wanted to continue my journey towards Joffre. I wondered if that would also be harder than indicated. I made a few very delicate moves off Bevan, found a patch of continuous snow, and boot-skied down to the Col. From here, I sidled around the ridge leading to Joffre and got onto the edge of the Bonar. Soft snow and flat terrain made it unnecessary to don crampons. Joffre looked very intimidating from the glacier and doubts stirred. I got up directly under the face in the scorching sun and looked for a way up. At the Southern end of the mountain I saw a ramp that lead to the South East Ridge. I couldn't see the whole route and felt like it was my only real option, so I took it. Ten minutes later I stood at the summit. I don't think I even used my hands. This was a walk and Bevan was a scramble. Powerful scenes from the summit of Mount Joffre Again, the views were profound. My favorite was looking out towards Barff, the Waipara Range, and the Olivines. I enjoyed some food, water, and a moment off my feet. The weather was spectacular and I soaked in as much of the moment as possible. Easily off the peak, I ran back towards Bevan Col, charged up from two glorious summits. It was light work on the descent and I got back to camp, only to find the stones removed and my sleeping bag shredded from some extremely curious Kea's. Fortunately, only a bit of down was removed and it was easily fixed with gear tape. I spent the rest of the afternoon doing cold plunges in the nearby stream and getting cooked like a rotisserie chicken from the heat underneath my tarp tent. As soon as the light faded I fell into a sporadic but good enough sleep. Morning was calm. I was in no rush to leave and enjoyed the views as I consumed breakfast and too much coffee. As the caffeine hit, I rushed down the Bevan Col slabs too far to the climber's right and had a moment of "Oh, this would be terrible in bad weather." Easily enough, I course-corrected but made a mental note for next time. I merrily tramped my way back to my bike at Aspiring Hut and enjoyed a brief conversation with two other mountaineers heading in the opposite direction. I only took one rest from the campsite back to my bike as the sun was ruthlessly hot and I wondered if I was genuinely melting. Thankfully, a breeze blew down valley and pushed me back to my van in forty-five minutes which capped an end to a fantastic three days in the hills. Happy days...

Date: February 8, 2025 Location: Richardson Mountains, Glenorchy, Otago, New Zealand Team: Alex Catalfamo Field Notes: As of writing, the route described in the new Mount Aspiring Guidebook is non-existent, so Neil Sloan has updated me on the current situation: the section alongside Precipice Ck from the carpark leads to where the creek gushes out of the gorge. Don't continue uphill on the formed track, but climb a mini scree slope of old gold workings into the beech forest. No sign indicates this entry point. The track zigzags steeply up past a large water tank and may be marked with track tape. The gradient eases and the beech is open, but is better to jump the fence here. From here, join a 4wd track heading North, and then travel East directly up to Precipice Hill. Follow a rough trail along the ridge north towards Temple Peak. Sidle under Point 1856 at the 1600 meter contour. Then follow an old 4wd track and animal tracks to just below the summit of Temple Peak. Sidle forty meters below the summit on the north, before a gully gives easy access to the top. Precipice Hill and Temple Peak Route Topo Alex is back! Our last trip together was an incredible four-day trip through the Pasayten Wilderness back in late September of 2023. Man, it feels good to have one of your best mates back. And even better he is super fit. We decided upon a trip that was non-technical, direct, and would allow light packs. I've been working through the Richardson Mountains and figured Temple Peak would be a fun trip. Alex with Turret Head and Mount Earnslaw behind Sunday was calling for poor weather and Saturday had a chance of going either way, so being in the Richardson's made sense. I've found that if the weather in the Aspiring Region is 50/50, the Richardsons typically get hit last which would give us more time up our sleeve. My observation was confirmed as we made our way up Precipice Hill. As we climbed up to our first summit, the mountains of the Routeburn and Dart Valley were entirely clagged in by rain clouds while we were under a scorching sun in the Richardsons. Looking into Temple Burn from Precipice Hill It took us two hours and fifteen minutes to reach the summit of Precipice Hill and the views were surprisingly amazing. Black Peak, Mount Larkins, and Stone Peak were visible to the South. The Humboldt Mountains stood proudly across the lake, and the mighty Mount Earnslaw to the North. Our favorite view was looking up the Temple Burn. Cloud began to spill over the lake and the wind picked up a few knots so we decided to keep moving. The ridgeline from Precipice Hill to Temple Peak is some of the best scenery I've experienced in a long time. Alex made for a great subject when it came to taking photos. Alex on the scenic ridge to Temple Peak. Precipice Hill behind. The terrain under Point 1856 looked ugly and without helmets, we opted to sidle under the high point. Plus, there was a solid ground trail to follow. We joined the North West Ridge of Temple Peak at 1,660 meters and continued upwards. I had set a strong pace for the day and felt like I had wings. It was one of those days. Meanwhile, Alex hadn't set foot on a mountain since our last trip in September 2023 and showed his strong fitness by keeping up step for step. We were on the summit in under five hours since leaving the car. To get to the summit, we walked up the West Ridge to about forty meters below the summit and followed a scree shelf on the northern side of the mountain. When hard under the summit, we walked up a scree gully to the summit ridge which gave easy access to the top. At the summit, we enjoyed a quick view before clouds swallowed us in. Just in time. We hung out for a bit, ate some lunch, and decided we should keep moving. The trip back to the van was uneventful. The clouds spit rain at us from time to time, but we loved the cool breeze and cloud cover. Back along the ridge to Precipice Hill the views were amazing and I'll let the photo below speak for itself. It's great to have 'Talf back. Happy days... Powerful scenes from the ridge line. Tooth Peak center image.

Date: Feb 1, 2025 Location: Darran Mountains, Fiordland National Park, Southland, New Zealand Team: Flora Yu Field Notes: Start at Gertrude Valley or park higher up (if hitch hiking). Leave the road at the start of the tunnel and follow a trail and cairns north until a grassy area where a solid ground trail leads up to Homer Saddle. While sometimes exposed, Talbot's Ladder is easy scrambling on solid rock. Once above the Ladder, follow the South Ridge on the eastern side to the summit of McPherson. We found the easiest route onto the summit to be from gaining the South Ridge forty meters roughly below the summit. From here, follow the ridge over to Traverse Pass. Conditions will dictate the best route onto and off the pass. To get off the pass, we descended directly from Traverse Pass on terribly loose rock and made one short rappel to reach the snow. From here, pay attention for cairns at the 1620 contour which leads through the bluffs back to Gertrude Saddle. McPherson Talbot Traverse Route Topo Fiordland is a place where I do not spend enough time. Snow-capped peaks. Pristine rain forests. Rugged and raw. This is a place that deserves respect. The McPherson Talbot Traverse is one of New Zealand's classic alpine routes. It seems to be Fiordland's version of the Remarkables Grand Traverse. With another fantastic weather window lining up, I messaged my friend Flora to see if she was keen to join. Sure enough she was and we made the three and a half hour drive to Homer Hut. Mount Crosscut and Mount Christina from Homer Saddle It was a cold morning when we started. Not a cloud could be spotted in the sky and we were optimistic for a beautiful day in the alpine. We wore headlamps and organized gear while I brewed up some delicious coffee. We drove up towards the tunnel and got started. From the tunnel, a solid trail and cairns lead into the McPherson Cirque. Near a grassy area past a boulder field, a ground trail switchbacks up to Homer Saddle. We were treated to the early morning light filling the valley as we climbed higher. At the saddle, we had a quick bite to eat and rehydrated before beginning the climb of Talbot's Ladder. It was my first time climbing in the Darrans and I was stoked. Unlike the rest of the country, the rock in the Darran's is incredible. Most of New Zealand's mountains are composed of greywacke / schist - loose and flaky. The Darrans are unique in that the mountains are composed of granite - a climber's dream. The Ladder provided fun scrambling with excellent holds. It felt amazing to climb on rock that was solid, compact, and grippy. It was also cool to see Flora grow in her mountain climbing and push beyond what she had done prior. Above the Ladder, we followed the South Ridge of McPherson on the East side, putting on crampons two hundred meters below the summit. We continued our climb higher and the views were sensational. As fate would have it, clouds poured over the ridge twenty meters from the top. Most of the views were obscured. Flora climbing the snowfields on McPherson While the clouds came in, we searched for an easy route onto the summit. We found the best option to be from gaining the South Ridge forty meters roughly below the top. Once on the apogee, we high-fived and ate some lunch. This was my first summit in the Darrans. While we were grateful to be at the top, I felt slightly uneasy about the amount of cloud that was developing and was curious if the weather would deteriorate. My only concern was descending Traverse Pass in a whiteout as I had never been there before. Flora on the ridge between McPherson and Talbot We spent the next hour in and out of the cloud. The ridge between McPherson and Talbot is beautiful and when the clouds lifted, the views were stunning. We left the snow and scrambled up rock to gain the ridge slightly north of the pass. We scrambled along the ridge until we stood officially at Traverse Pass. As I expected, the cloud made it slightly more difficult to spot the best descent route off the pass. The rock was also terribly loose and extreme care needs to be taken here. With all of this said, I had expected this to be the crux of the trip and was prepared. Flora rappelling off Traverse Pass We searched for a way down and got within fifteen meters of the snow until we got cliffed out. From here I looked for a place to build an anchor and found a massive boulder - happy days. I looped some cordelette around the anchor, organized the rope, and called Flora down. Soon enough she was over the cliff and onto the snow and out of the way to safety. Then I followed, into empty space, and onto the snow. It felt like the major obstacles of the day were behind us. As we started down the snow, I was lazy with fitting my crampon and took a momentary slide. Although harmless in this scenario, other mountains would be less forgiving. Mountaineering is a practice that requires absolute focus. You could argue it requires perfection. I was actually disappointed in myself for such an amateur mistake but made sure to soak in the lesson post trip. I also think it's good to openly share with others who may read this. How easily does the mind switch off in the mountains when one thinks okay, we are safe now. You can see why most accidents occur on the descent. Back at Gertrude Saddle we finally gave ourselves a good break. I had expected to see more people there but it was just us. The weather was clear at this elevation and thankfully we were out of the clouds. A few hours later we got back to the van and rushed to Te Anau - arriving just in time for some delicious wood fired pizza. Happy days...

Date: February 23, 2025 Location: Forbes Mountains, Mount Aspiring National Park, Glenorchy, Otago, New Zealand Team: Alex Catalfamo Field Notes: The fastest and easiest way to get up the Rees Valley is via bicycle. At Kea Basin, continue following a trail north, to the obvious spur starting at 1,100 meters. Follow cairns and a ground trail up the spur to Point 1445. A heavily cairned route continues up the mountain, angling southwest at 1800 meters through rock slabs. Cross the Birley Glacier to the notoriously windy Wright Col. From Wright Col, head south up through scree and a gully until a steep ledges are encountered at 2600 meters. Follow a ledge system to the climbers left until 'The Keyhole' is encountered. This crux is more awkward than difficult and there is a fixed rope there if one trusts it. Above this, an easy walk leads out to the summit. We did this route in summer in perfect conditions and light crampons and a helmet were all that was needed. That being said, this route would change drastically in different conditions and is very prone to verglas. Mount Earnslaw East Peak Route Topo It was a chilly summer morning as we loaded the gear into my Nissan Caravan. Starry skies above made us optimistic for a beautiful weather day. We left the house somewhere around four thirty in the morning with the aim at starting at six. Fergburger was just closing, the staff were packing to go home, and we were going in. Alex walking up the Rees Valley Our landlord, Evan, was kind enough to lend us a spare bicycle and we pedaled up the Rees Valley towards Earnslaw. What a difference the bicycle makes on these long valley approaches. Halfway up the valley, Alex exclaims, “Wow - what a luxury this is!” And instantly my pedal falls off. You can’t make this stuff up. Unable to fix the bike we ditched them by the river and walked another forty minutes to the trailhead. Mentally, in the back of my mind, I was preparing myself for how hard the walkout was going to suck. Somewhere around seven, we were blasting our way up to Kea Basin. Light packs, minimal gear, and plenty of good food allowed us to travel light and fast - my favorite way to go. Above Kea Basin we were caught from behind by a Kiwi couple in their sixties, Mike and Julie. “You don’t need all that gear,” Mike exclaimed. What! All that gear! We were carrying 20-liter packs with our helmets on the inside. Then, “You guys want to tag along?” Our hearts said yes, but our bodies said no. Let’s make it clear - Alex and I were moving fast. It took us a little over five hours from the valley floor to the summit, but Mike and Julie were crushing. Even better, they were cool as. We enjoyed running into them a few times throughout the day. Their vibe was on another level. Just proves you don’t need to be a grumpy cunt as you get older. Alex crossing the Birley Glacier We climbed higher, trading tussock for rock slabs. The sun beamed to remind us of the heat it would bring later in the day. Travel was fast and easy as it seems like there is so much traffic in this area it has become a trail. We weren’t complaining by any means. At the glacier, we donned our ultra-light crampons, walked across the Birley Glacier, and arrived at the windy Wright Col. There were quite a few people out and about today. In fact, it was the busiest day I’ve seen on any mountain, ever, in New Zealand outside of the tramping trails. A father and son were wearing bicycle helmets and turned around at the keyhole as it was apparently dangerous. I guy wearing a rainbow tutu overheard him and said, “I just came down, it was sweet as.” We put our bets on the rainbow tutu guy that it would be “sweet as.” And indeed it was. The keyhole is more of a pain than it is difficult. It is an awkward squeeze through a narrow slot. Above the keyhole, we followed the heavily cairned route where we ran into Mike and Julie one last time. We spoke about fitness, age, and mountain goals. What stuck with me was Julie’s words, “We are just getting started.” We are just getting started. How deeply that hits home. Alex and I, best friends for the last 14 years, have said this phrase to each other every year. At thirty-three years old as I write this, I still feel it in my bones. I’m just getting started. Why not? We are all just getting started. However, it is easy to be convinced otherwise if one lives in their past or they are convinced happiness is someone else, somewhere else, or something else. To quote my mentor Garrett Gunderson, it’s about creating a life you never want to retire from. One of the best views I've seen in the Southern Alps. The summit of Mount Earnslaw. Alex and I arrived at the summit in the early afternoon, alone. The views were some of the most spectacular I’ve seen in a long time. The ocean of peaks that lead out to the deep blue ocean is not a common thing to witness. As we moved off the peak, the euphoria of the summit had washed away. It was going to be a grind. Back across the glacier, zig-zagging down through the slabs, and eventually back on tussock I had to hide in the shade. The sun was ruthless. Alex and I talked shit to each other to make each other laugh. We continued down, down, down. Right before the actual Kea Basin trail, I got us slightly off route and we battled with scrub. Alex was frustrated, mainly at me, and then took one of the best falls I’ve ever seen into a bush. The laughter was surreal. Left to right: Mount Head, Moira Peak, Mount Clarke from Kea Basin At last, we returned to the bikes feeling pretty tired. I sat down to rest but Alex motioned us to keep walking to the bikes. He was right. At the bikes, a miracle happened. Somehow I was able to jam my pedal into the bike and get it to pedal just enough to function. Every two turns I pushed the pedal back in with my foot. Life saver! Back at the van we threw our gear in and sped off back to Queenstown, just in time for a couple thousand calories of Indian. Happy days…

Date: February 16-17, 2025 Location: Lake Monowai, Fiordland National Park, Southland, New Zealand Team: Alex Catalfamo Field Notes: Take the Green Lake trail until the col near Point 974. Head southwest through the trees until breaking out of bushline at 1,000 meters. Battle through scrub up the northeast aspect of Mount Cuthbert. From here, route finding is straightforward - follow the main ridge from Point 1430, over Rocky Top to Cleughearn Peak. There are many tarns perfect for camping. From Cleughearn Peak, head west towards Point 1453, eventually following the ridge all the way to Point 1315. At this final high point, travel east until an obvious orange marker indicates a trail that leads down to Rodger Inlet Hut. Follow the trail back to the car. Cleughearn Peak Route Topo Since Alex's arrival back in New Zealand, we have enjoyed some brilliant trips. Temple Peak and Mount Earnslaw were epic day trips in the Aspiring Region. Since most of my trips are focused in this area, Alex pitched the idea of heading out to Fiordland. I had been eyeing this loop of Cleughearn Peak for over a year and the weather was cooperating, so we pulled the trigger and drove South. We arrived at Lake Monowai on a beautiful summer day. The wind was blowing a gale in Otago but it was peaceful down here. Alex finding a way through the bush Our trip started by taking the notoriously muddy Green Lake trail. Thankfully, at least for trampers, it has been a dry summer and the trail was in great condition. It took us a few hours to reach the col near Point 974 where we would leave the trail. I searched for the best option through the trees, which was fine until we broke out of the bush line. Funny enough, I thought the bush was behind us. Unfortunately (mainly for Alex as it was his first time experiencing New Zealand scrub bashing), it was pretty shit. For the next hour we bashed through waist high scrub, fighting our way to the summit of Mount Cuthbert. While Alex verbally assaulted the scrub, I spoke words of encouragement to him. "I promise it will get better bro." I had no idea what I was talking about. I had never been here before and had no idea what lay ahead. Fortunately, it got better. The Golden Hour in Southern Fiordland The views from the summit of Mount Cuthbert were unreal. A vast sea of remote and wild mountains lay before us just begging to be explored. We dropped down off the summit and traveled past Point 1169. Our original intention was to camp at the big tarn below Point 1430, but we decided to change our plans. It made more sense to climb along the ridge, summit Rocky Top, and then drop a few meters to the small tarn below Cleughearn Peak. We arrived at camp late, headlamps beaming. After a sound sleep we woke to a spectacular sunrise with views of the ocean. Alex led us to the summit of Cleughearn Peak where we enjoyed breakfast. In the early hours of the day, you could already feel the strength of the sun so we continued on. We spent the day rambling over the tops, stopping every twenty minutes to snap photographs. The views were insane. The type of views you only get in Fiordland. Rugged peaks exploding out of the earth, dense forests, small lakes and tarns everywhere. There was a faint breeze in the air and not a soul in sight. How I would have loved to spend just another night out camped next to one of the many incredible alpine pools. At our last high point (1315), we grabbed a bite to eat and refueled, preparing ourselves for the trek out. Alex swapped his shirt for a fresh one and we dropped into the bush. The trail down to Rodger Inlet Hut was amazing - I couldn't believe it! It was nice to be out of the sun and surrounded by forest. We arrived at the hut eight hours into the day. I took a cold plunge in the stream while Alex escaped the sun and chilled in the hut. After a solid break, it was time to commit to the walk out. Now, for anyone reading this, I want to be very honest about what you can expect from the Rodger Inlet Track. It is an absolute mother fucker of a trail. Muddy, boggy, hard to follow, constant up and down, rough, scrubby, etc. Everything you don't want from a trail, this one has. Alex mesmerized by the raw beauty of Fiordland. Point 1260 behind. From the small tarn back below Cleughearn Peak to the car took us ten hours and forty-five minutes, moving quickly. We would say this trip was as physically challenging as Earnslaw, which we did in a day. We were also carrying super light packs as you can see in the photos. It ultimately boils down to terrain. We were worked when we arrived back at the car. I would say this is one of the hardest trips I've done in a long time! Being in remote Southern Fiordland on a Monday night, there were no places to eat. So we drove back towards Queenstown until eventually eating a Kebab at a very, very strange place in Lumsden. I won't go into details. This trip was a Fiordland classic and I hope the photos do this one justice. Happy days...

Date: March 10, 2025 Location: Ailsa Mountains, Mount Aspiring National Park, Glenorchy, Otago, New Zealand Team: Alex Catalfamo Field Notes: Take the Routeburn Track towards Flats. At the junction with the hut, take the trail up towards Falls Hut. At the third bridge, walk underneath the bridge and head into the stream bed. The stream immediately splits, take the branch to the climbers right. The stream bed offers easy travel, although would best be avoided after heavy rainfall and is probably best climbed in summer or autumn. At 1,200 meters, leave the stream and climb through tussock angling towards Emily Pass. Head into the gut, taking care with loose rock, angling up and around to Emily Pass. To access the South West Face, drop down at least 100 meters and sidle around the mountain. At the base of the face, easy slabs lead up to the summit. Difficulties are easily surpassed by finding a ledge or alternative. Emily Peak Route Topo Alex and I have been on a tear since he arrived in New Zealand. Week after week of good weather has seen us up many of the local peaks. Incredibly, Alex stepped on a bee just a few days before the trip and his foot swelled up like a balloon. We had plans to go do Cleft Peak over two days but thought it was better to have another rest day. We woke up on Monday morning and hit the road early. The temperature was cool and we almost put gloves on. The trail was quiet. Just a few hikers were making their way back to their cars to finish the Great Walk. Alex climbing out of Emily Creek. Somnus and Momus behind. At the Falls Hut junction, we started uphill and got to our bridge in fifteen minutes. At least I thought it was the right bridge. Turns out it was the third bridge we were after. I realized this just a bit too late. Instead of simply backtracking, I took us on a fifteen-minute scrub bash. Alex wasn't happy. Sorry mate! Back in the correct creek branch, we made fast travel up through the stream bed. At 1,200 meters we climbed out of the creek, onto a spur, and followed a cairned route East in a basin. In hindsight, this isn't necessary. A more direct route would be to climb out of the creek at 1,200 meters and head directly South for Emily Pass. To access the pass, we headed into the obvious gut which heads up and wraps around to the Southwest. We found it to be wet with loose rock and care should be taken. Finally, at the top of the pass, we dropped down about one hundred meters and wrapped around the peak to access the South West Face. Alex's ankle was bothering him at this point and I was slightly concerned on how he'd go on the steeper face. We took our time looking for the best route up the mountain and picked our way up the face. Determined, Alex powered on. Alex on the South West Face of Emily Peak. Ocean Peak in the background. As we climbed higher, the views became dramatic. Lush green valleys split by a blue flowing river. Spiky mountain top peaks against a cobalt sky. At six hours since leaving the car we stood on the summit. Somnus, The God of Sleep, stood high above the North Routeburn. Although the mountains in this region are not as high as the other peaks in the region, the views are out of this world. After a good lunch, we started down and made light work of the descent. I kept thinking of how this face would ski with snow on it. The summit of Emily Peak. Mount Somnus is the snow capped Peak. We sidled over annoying terrain at the bottom of the face and made the climb back up to Emily Pass. The rest of the day was as expected: a long grind down through Emily Pass, back across slippery tussock, down a creek, and eventually a few hours along the Routeburn Track. Alex's ankle was fully pissed off and after almost twelve hours we were both stoked to be off our feet. Another classic memory with 'Talf! Happy days...

Date: May 5 - 6, 2025 Location: Richardson Mountains, Whakaari Conservation Area, Glenorchy, Otago, New Zealand Team: Deanna Luu Field Notes: Park at the Mount Judah Trailhead and take the track towards Heather Jock Hut. The track to McIntosh Hut branches off left and drops downhill crossing 2 streams. After crossing the final stream (The Buckler Burn), follow the poled route up to the saddle at Point 1244. Heading east, climb the final 200 meters to the hut. There are 4 mattresses and a water tank. McIntosh Hut Route Map For April, I decided to get out of town and head to Dunedin for my annual Autumn surf pilgrimage. For me, surfing is the yin to the yang of mountains. Bold Peak and the Humboldt Mountains from the Buckler Burn Surfing is fun, flowy, less committing, and high vibes. The mountains are typically fun when it's over, feel harder on my body, more committing, and require long days. With surfing, a one-hour session can be life-changing. With the mountains, those incredible moments typically take a ton of planning, energy, and countless hours or days of physical work. I feel like I have more fun when I'm surfing, but I feel that the rewards and satisfaction are greater for mountaineering. The beauty is, I don't have to choose either/or. I choose both. And I choose depending on how I'm feeling or where my mental state is at. And at the end of April, I was ready to return to the hills. My friend Deanna decided to come visit for a week at the beginning of May, and one of her main goals was to stay in a mountain hut. I had a positive experience staying in McIntosh Hut when I climbed Black Peak back in the spring of 2023 and thought she would love it. With light overnight packs we made the steady climb along the Mount Judah track before heading left down to cross the Buckler Burn. The final nine-hundred-meter climb to the hut was a good test of fitness for Deanna, and she was stoked to finally reach our home for the night. The day was a screamer - barely a cloud in the sky. We laid out in the grass in our sleeping bags enjoying the views of Bold Peak, Mount Earnslaw, and the skyline of jagged peaks. Evening came and we sat inside by candlelight, trying to make up different card games until we passed out. McIntosh Hut at sunset. Morning was special to have coffee together, watching the sun illuminate the ocean of mountains. A strong northwesterly blew in and we decided to head down and treat ourselves to a coffee and pastry at Mrs. Woolly's. McIntosh Hut has a ton of character and remains a classic for the area. Happy days...

Date: May 19, 2025 Location: Criffel Range, Cadrona, Otago, New Zealand Team: Solo Field Notes: Start at the top of the Crown Range and follow the four-wheel drive track along the summits of Rock Peak to Queensberry Hill. The track drops down off the ridge and joins with the Meg Hut Pack Track. Take this back to the main road, where you either left a second car or plan on hitchhiking back to the top of the pass. Southern Criffel Range Route Topo Since coming back from Dunedin in early May, I've been excited to get back into the hills to get the legs going. The only trip I had done so far was a casual overnighter to McIntosh Hut with Deanna. Looking at potential options on the map, I settled on traversing the Southern portion of the Criffel Range. I had done something similar last winter with Kevin and Emilie, traversing the Crown Range. The forecast was meant to be cold with a Westerly. I started early, around sunrise, and wasted no time heading up to Mount Hockern and Rock Peak. It was a gorgeous morning and the little bits of snow made me excited for winter. I spent the day following a four-wheel drive track, which made me wish I were actually on a gravel bike! The wind was consistent and cold and I had on all of my layers. Speargrass along the Criffel Range After summiting Queensberry Hill, the last "peak" of the day, I dropped down to meet the Meg Hut Pack Track and followed it to the road end. After twenty minutes of attempted hitchhiking, I was eventually picked up by a van-lifer who dropped me back to my own van at the top of the Crown Range. Looking southeast from the summit of Mount Allen This trip makes for a good training day where you don't want to push the body too hard. Happy days...

Date: May 23, 2025 Location: Harris Mountains, Arrowtown, Otago, New Zealand Team: Solo Field Notes: Bike, walk, or run up the 4WD track heading towards Macetown. At the junction with Soho Creek, head steeply uphill to the north, aiming for Point 1218. From here, continue north following the ridgeline along to Points 1608 and 1740, which eventually lead to the summit. Mount Soho Route Topo It was a cold May morning as I peddled up the Arrow River. I always wondered what biking up the four-wheel drive track would be like. Within the first five minutes, I met my first river crossing. I tried to skip across some rocks to avoid soaking my footwear completely. This proved foolish as I slipped, smashed my knee on a rock, and dunked one of my gloves in the cold river. Classic. From then on, I just plowed through any river crossings and let go of my attachment to dry footwear. The track eventually stops zigzagging through the river and climbs two hundred meters along the windy road before dropping back down to my starting point for the climb at the junction with Soho Creek. I ditched my bike, dropped some layers, filled my water, and started up a steep tussock spur. It was ten thirty in the morning, and the low Autumn sun still hid behind the mountain. The air was still, and crickets chirped in the grass. My legs felt heavy and I focused on setting my all-day pace. Before I knew it I stood atop Point 1218 to greet the sun. What a perfect day to be up high. I followed the beautiful ridge up and around to Point 1608 and then on to Point 1740. From here, I finally spotted the summit of Mount Soho and walked the last ten minutes to the peak. The stunning ridgeline from Point 1218. Point 1608 is in the upper left of the image. Other than the occasional wisp of wind, the air was completely still and silent. Three hundred and sixty-degree views in all directions with Mount Aspiring to the north, the Remarkables to the south, the Richardson Mountains to the West, and the Harris Mountains to the east. It took me three casual hours to reach the summit from the river, and roughly two hours to get back down to the bike. Travel was straightforward and at times, a rough trail could be followed. The Arrow River from the slopes of Mount Soho. The 4WD can be spotted center image. I arrived back to my bike late in the afternoon with the sun making its final golden descent. Fortunately, the ride out was much more down than up, and I reached my van in about forty-five minutes. Happy days...

Date: July 5 - 7, 2025 Location: Serpentine Range, Mount Aspiring National Park, Glenorchy, Otago, New Zealand Team: Rob Fraser Field Notes: For F-Knob, start from Routeburn Falls Hut and head West until you reach the first bridge. A ground trail initially heads south, bypassing the bluffs to the east and ending near a group of tarns. Gain the North East Ridge and follow directly to the summit. To get to Ocean Peak, follow the obvious ridge line heading West, sidling difficulties on the north. For Xenicus, start from Falls Hut and climb above the hut into the valley. Cross the Route Burn, and head straight up a gully that eventually ends at 1,500 meters. Sidle around the South East Ridge on the Eastern side, gaining the ridge at 1,800 meters. F-Knob, Ocean Peak, and Xenicus Route Topo It's been a long while since I got stuck into a proper summit. June didn't provide much in the way of weather and I found myself skinning up Coronet Peak for fitness most of the time. May was filled with tramping, and April I was in Dunedin surfing. The last big trip in the hills was March 20th, when Alex and I did a speedy one-day ascent of Mount Tyndall. Work has also been busy, so when I saw three days in a row of perfect weather, I knew I needed to be outside for all of them. My soul was burning for it. We still need another good storm to properly open up some bigger ski touring/mountaineering days, so I left the sticks at home and wandered up the Routeburn. There are quite a few peaks there I haven't managed to climb yet, and the area is jaw-dropping. From the North East Ridge of F-Knob. Somnus, Momus, and the North Routeburn are on the skyline. I walked in to Falls Hut on a beautiful Saturday afternoon and was surprised to see about twenty other hikers there. I didn't mind the company - we are all there for the same reason, and I was grateful that someone had put in the effort to stoke the fire. I planned to climb F-Knob and take the ridge line over to Ocean Peak. Then on Monday morning, Rob was to meet me at Falls Hut, and we were going to climb Xenicus. I knew there wouldn't be a ton of snow up there, but I was surprised to see how little there actually was. From the summit of F-Knob. The Forbes Range and the Richardson's are on the skyline. In fact, I didn't put crampons on until twenty meters below the summit of F-Knob. The ascent was easy enough, although steep, and it was surreal to be high above the valley floor. The weather conditions were absolutely incredible. Sunny, low cloud in the valley, and the faintest breath of wind. Although these summits don't even touch two thousand meters, the scenery has got to be some of the best in the Southern Alps. I put my crampons on for the final twenty meters and front-pointed to the summit. From here, I looked over to Emily Peak which Alex and I had done earlier in the year. The temperature was rising so I kept moving towards Ocean Peak, following the easy ridge traveling West. At Point 1820, the snow was getting quite warm and I knew I needed to get over to Ocean Peak sooner rather than later. The climbing looked tricky over this section, so I followed a ledge system at 1700 meters that took me to a small basin just below the summit. From here, I booted up a gully to join the South West Ridge. I climbed higher until I met an awkward step that forced me onto the face. With exposure below, I front-pointed up to the summit. My eyes were drawn towards the wild peaks of Fiordland, especially Tutoko. Knowing it was only getting warmer, I left the summit quickly and made my way down. The Serpentine Range from the summit of Ocean Peak. Xenicus is in the foreground. Back at the hut, I immediately started boiling water as the hut was entirely devoid of the sun and was cold. I did my best at starting a fire with damp wood and coal, and after hours of work, wondering why the hut wasn't warmer, I was dismayed to find out that there were windows at the top of the hut that were open the entire time. By seven thirty, I crawled into my sleeping bag and called it a night. For the two nights I slept at Falls Hut, they may have been the best back-to-back nights of sleep I've ever had in the backcountry. I slept soundly, only waking up occasionally. Rob arrived at half past seven and I made him a coffee as promised. We started back up the Routeburn track, crossed the River, and headed north up through low scrub. Travel was not difficult by any means and we were glad to hit the snow. It was awesome having Rob up here - he's super fit, grounded, and has a great mindset. At 1,500 meters we sidled around to access the South East Ridge of Xenicus. It looked very straightforward, minus one little cruxy section. We cramponed higher, swapping places when the person in front needed a break. We arrived at the crux just below the summit and it wasn't ideal. There were sections of ice in a short gully with plenty of exposure off to our left. This is why conditions are almost everything in the mountains. We were both keen and tackled the crux, being diligent with our placements. At the summit, we congratulated each other, snapped a photo, and then headed back down. The crux required extreme care, and I wish I had a second tool. However, with patience, it was managed just fine. Rob climbing the final few meters to the summit of Xenicus At the bottom of the climb, Rob busted out a few of his girlfriend's homemade cookies, and I can confirm it was a borderline religious experience. Thank you, Daisy. We made quick work back to Falls Hut where we swapped mountain boots for hiking boots, and then continued on to the car park. It was a hell of a day and a hell of trip - and I celebrated with some much-needed Indian food back in Queenstown. Happy days...

Date: July 19 - 20, 2025 Location: Harris Mountains, Mount Aspiring National Park, Otago, New Zealand Team: Rob Fraser, Kevin Reid, Emilie Agnew Field Notes: From Shelter Rock Hut, Headlong Peak is a long climb - and even longer with ski gear. Climb to the top of Rees Saddle and then head north along Snowy Creek on the true left. The most convenient location to cross is about 1.3 km from Rees Saddle and about .7 km from the Snowy Creek Bridge (which is removed during winter). Snowy Creek is impossible to cross in most areas, and it pays to give yourself time to find the correct location to cross, especially in the dark. Once across the creek, take the broad west spur to the summit. There is one short section near the top around 40 degrees. Headlong Peak Route Topo Although it hasn't snowed much in New Zealand so far this season, we have had plenty of clear, cold days. Another high-pressure system rolled in for the weekend, lining up perfectly with our schedules. We had a great team assembled for this trip: Rob, Kevin, and Emilie. Fortunately, we were able to utilize Kevin and Emilie's four-wheel drive truck to get up the Rees Valley. 
 Rob biking up the cold Rees Valley Rob and I wound up biking as we had a later start to the day. But fortunately, Kevin and Emilie brought our ski gear and packs in their truck. up the valley. From there, it was only a two-and-a-half-hour hike to Shelter Rock Hut, where Rob and I spent the entire time talking about whether Kevin and Emilie would have the fire going upon our arrival. Funny enough, we arrived at the hut exactly when Kevin and Emilie had just gotten back from skiing Mount Cunningham. Kevin tried his best to get the fire going, and after a brilliant effort, he proved successful. We shared dinner together and talked about our plans for Headlong Peak. 
We decided to get up at the ungodly time of two o'clock in the morning with the intentions of being out the door by three. It was a frosty start, and we headed up the valley on dry ground. I find it's always difficult traveling in the middle of the night, where you can only see the silhouettes of the mountain peaks, the stars above, and the ground in front of you illuminated by a headlamp. It can be disorienting and at times frustrating, which shows us how influential the power of light really is. 
 Near five a.m., we got under Rees Saddle and boot packed our way to the top. We saw the nasty gut of Snowy Creek, which we assumed would be one of the cruxes of the trip as we were attempting to find a safe passage in the dark. The team skinning up the West Ridge of Headlong Peak. Rees Saddle behind. I was very confident in the route that I had found based on reading the topography and viewing satellite imagery. I led us north along Snowy Creek, at times losing faith, until we came upon the spot I had indicated on the map. It went! 
We dropped down to the water, walked across the creek in our ski boots, and attached skins. The excitement was building now as the climbing had finally begun. At this point, we had been traveling for close to four hours, and we still had a 1,200-meter climb ahead of us. Climbing the West Ridge of Headlong Peak. Cleft Peak center is at center image. 
I set off starting the skin track up the West Ridge of Headlong Peak, and we were immediately relieved to find very light and soft snow. And the higher that we traveled, the better the snow became, and the more the stoke built. And then, obeying the eternal rhythm, the sun rose and splashed colors of pink and red onto the tops of the peaks. 
Setting a skin track on a big day is always hard work, and we rotated to keep things efficient. Towards the top, we were beginning to feel the effects of a long day. We were already seven hours in and still had a few hundred meters left to the summit. On Headlong Peak. Mount Cunningham is at center image. 
There was a section of steeper terrain close to the summit that we had to navigate. Once past this crux, we were knocking on the doorstep. Although we were only one hundred meters away, it looked so far away. Sure enough, just as we popped over the rise, the summit was right in front of us. Thirty steps later of boot packing, we found ourselves on top of the peak. 
It was one of the best feelings that I had experienced in a long time, as it had taken us eight hours of hard work from the hut to reach the top. The final steps to the summit of Headlong Peak We were absolutely stoked to be sharing an incredible summit together with not a soul in sight on a beautiful, sunny winter's day. We were also aware that there was hang fire in the valley from the slopes above and things were heating up, so we wasted no time. 
We clicked into our skis and all took turns right off the summit. From that point on, we hooped and hollered as we leapfrogged each other down the mountain, skiing for the most part, in fantastic conditions down to the valley floor. This is truly what we live for! 
Back at Snowy Creek, everyone was buzzing. We attached skins, climbed out of the creek, and made our way back to Rees Saddle. At the top of the saddle, we clicked in for the last time and made turns back down to the snow line. We arrived back at the hut over thirteen hours later. 
Although we all wanted to sleep, the sun was setting. So we packed our bags, refueled, and got ready for the two-plus-hour hike back to the truck. 
Rob and I led out first, with Kevin and Emilie trailing just behind. Rob and I, which seems to be customary on all of our trips, engaged in deep and thoughtful conversation, interspersed with laughter and jokes, to pass the time. We were both feeling completely worked. By the time we had gotten back to the truck, it had been sixteen hours. We started in the dark, and we ended in the dark. Thankfully, Kevin and Emilie's headlamps emerged from the trees - it was time to go home! 
We loaded up the gear in the back of the truck, and bumped our way out the Rees - eyes and bodies burning from exhaustion. The team: Emilie, Rob, & Kevin This was one of my favorite trips in such a long time, not just because the skiing was fantastic, but because the company was sensational. The whole trip was filled with laughter and stoke - and a reminder of the power of good relationships. Happy days...

Date: August 3, 2025 Location: The Remarkables, Queenstown, Otago, New Zealand Team: Emilie Agnew Field Notes: The classic M3 route on the West Face. 150 meters, 4 pitches. Bring a full trad rack. An ice screw or two might be useful depending on conditions. The West Face of the Remarkables has always held some sort of mythical allure for me. Almost every day I stare at it, knowing it holds quality climbing, yet I’ve never ventured out there. This winter has seen a disappointing amount of snowfall so far - so disappointing that it has led me to question how much longer I will stay here. One benefit of this, at least in winter, is that low snowfall means other opportunities open up, such as mixed climbing. MK Gully, West Face of the Remarkables Emilie and I were fresh off our respective ice and mixed climbing clinics and wanted to get stuck in. Kevin’s knee has still been bothering him since Headlong Peak, so it was just us two. The forecast was meant to be stunning and avalanche conditions were virtually non-existent. Our choice for the day was the M3 classic - MK Gully. We decided to skin up to Shadow Basin, stashing the ski kit and transitioning to climbing boots. Walking around the West Face and seeing the extreme drop-offs reminded me of why conditions need to be perfect back here. Any mistake would result in severe consequences. Emilie led out on pitch 1 - one of the cruxes of the route. It was a full body length step, which was awkward, but was made all the more difficult with spin drift pouring down in her face. Eventually, she got through it and brought me up. I led out on the second pitch which was just a steep snow climb and apologized at the lack of protection I placed when Emilie rejoined me. Swapping leads again, Emilie led out through another rock step until she set up a belay at an awesome ledge in the sun. It had been an epic day out so far, and we were frothing. I took over for the last pitch. I made a start up a snowy gully until getting to a rock step at the top out. One of my favorite things about mixed climbing is the art of using tools, hands, and crampons. At one moment, you hook a tool behind a rock. The right foot steps up. You leave the tool and place your hand on another rock. The crampon on the left foot finds a crack. Although I was in a no-fall zone, climbing at somewhere around my technical ability, I was in the zone. Fully immersed in the moment. This last crux had great protection, so I plugged a bunch of gear, mantled, and topped out. Topping out on MK Gully I left out a shout of satisfaction as I stepped into the afternoon sun. Finally on top, I built an anchor and brought Emilie up. We were absolutely buzzing and the only thing we could think about was doing another route! After a bite to eat, we walked back down to our gear and skied back to the car. I can see why this route is a classic. Happy days...

Date: August 4, 2025 Location: The Remarkables, Queenstown, Otago, New Zealand Team: Emilie Agnew Field Notes: The climb is 170 meters and completed in three to four pitches. Bring a full trad rack. We found the start to be the crux and the climb to be one step up in difficulty from MK Gully. Still buzzing off our climb of MK Gully the day before, Emilie and I went right back to the West Face for more. Our goal was to do something of equal or slightly greater difficulty. We landed on Saturday Morning Special, graded at 3+. My friend Henry warned me to take mixed grades with a grain of salt, so we went into it with an open mind. Saturday Morning Special taken from Queens Drive Standing at pitch 1, which was apparently the crux, it looked to be a decent step up. Being a stronger rock climber, Emilie started us off. It looked technical and awkward. I still wonder if we attacked the first pitch in the best way possible. Regardless, Emilie composed herself and made her way up. When I followed, I was glad I wasn’t leading. Emilie on the first pitch of Saturday Morning Special The second pitch definitely wasn’t as challenging as the first, but it didn’t let off the gas that much. I led out on moderate angled snow until another awkward body length step. I tried to find protection, but none of it was confidence-inspiring. I remember throwing in multiple pieces before committing to the move. Climbing the second pitch of Saturday Morning Special I had to shimmy myself up until I could get high enough where I could place a tool over the step. To my dismay, the snow was soft and deep, and I burned energy trying to get solid placements. Eventually, my tools secured a solid purchase, and I committed to the top out. Feeling vulnerable above the step, I was greeted to a fifty-degree-plus snow slope with massive exposure below. I climbed this six to seven-meter section, making sure every placement counted, until I reached the glorious safety of a belay cave. Emilie climbing above the awkward step on the second pitch of Saturday Morning Special I brought up Em, where we swapped, and she climbed a short section right before the top out. Because of the rope drag, she belayed me and let me take the final pitch in the sun. This climb felt harder than MK, and I relished the easy climbing with good protection all the way to the top. The afternoon sun was strong, and I practically belayed Emilie up in my base layers! We celebrated just as stoked as we had been the day before, buzzing off two back-to-back climbs on the West Face in perfect conditions. Ravished - we ate like dogs (or at least I did) and set off back to the car. Happy days...

Date: August 24, 2025 Location: The Remarkables, Queenstown, Otago, New Zealand Team: Rob Fraser Field Notes: Climbed in two pitches. Pitch one is the obvious snow gully that heads up to a rocky area. The gully splits here. The second pitch climbs the left side - a slab/rock wall. Still buzzing off some good days on the West Face, I had the Enforcer at the Notch circled as one of the climbs I really wanted to try out. The weather looked perfect, and Rob and I set off early with high stoke. We walked along the West Face for over an hour trying to find the start of the route. I was convinced we had to be close, but nothing looked right. Rob wasn’t sure either, and after scratching our heads long enough, we called an audible. Plan B: Number One Gully. Number One Gully - Remarkables It was Rob’s first time mixed climbing, so an M2 felt like a solid introduction. The first pitch was mellow—just an easy snow gully. The second pitch was awkward - a steep slab covered in dry, unconsolidated snow made every move feel awkward. I had to dig and scrape off snow to find anything that resembled a placement, and more than once I felt like things were teetering on the edge of sketchy. Bit by bit we worked our way up until the snow finally gave way to sun, and we topped out with big grins. Not the Enforcer, but still a win—Rob got his first taste of mixed climbing, and I got more experience mixed climbing. Rob topping out on Number One Gully Happy days...