THE APOGEE

Date: December 7, 2024 Location: Richardson Mountains, Glenorchy, Otago, New Zealand Team: Solo Field Notes: I had spotted this potential route from the Glenorchy Queenstown road for the last year and wondered if it would provide access to the summit. This is an excellent, direct, and scrub free route. It is best climbed in early season when snow fills the South West couloir, otherwise it becomes dangerously broken with loose rock and may be unclimbable. The top pitch of the couloir steepens up just a bit, which indicates the '+' in difficulty. At the top of the couloir, sidle around to the North West and climb extremely loose rock to the summit. If climbing in a party of two or more a helmet would be a wise choice. There are excellent camp spots at 1,450 meters. Stone Peak Route Topo For the last year I've been driving past Stone Peak along the Glenorchy Queenstown road eyeing the snow filled couloir that tops out just shy of the summit. I knew the couloir was obviously climbable, but was unsure of the final climb to the summit. My original plan was to climb Stair Peak in the Rees Valley, but the Rees Valley Station had informed me that they were doing some work in that area. I drove back down the road, saw the Stone Peak route was still in, and made my decision. The Humboldt Mountains at sunrise The alarm woke me up at three thirty in the morning. These pre-dawn starts never get any easier and I hate the feeling of being sleep deprived. At four I was off and the stars flickered above. I headed north down the road until I spotted the 4wd track which would take me across the pasture. From here I began the steep climb towards Point 1234. Summer is an amazing time in the Southern Alps and I couldn't believe how much light filled the sky this early in the morning. The temperature was perfect and I hardly broke a sweat. I sidled Point 1234 on the West and got my first view of the couloir. Wow, steeper than I thought. Today's climb was going to be a bit different. I was trying out my new ultra-light crampons that fit on hiking boots and trail runners - the Petzl Leopard. I also had my ultralight ice axe - the Black Diamond Venom LT. There is much to be said about the ultra light mentality. Simply put - some people (like myself) find enjoyment in moving light and fast in the mountains. Other people like the comfort or style of the traditional approach. Other's prefer a blend. One's approach to a mountain is based off of experience, skill set, goals and mentality. Think for yourself, consciously evaluate your goals and skills, attempt the mountain, and then evaluate. There is ultimately no right or wrong. Personally, I will not go back to a heavier ice axe. My Black Diamond Venom LT is an amazing, light weight tool that does everything I need it to. When it gets steeper, I will pair it with a second tool - The Black Diamond Venom LT Tech. If the terrain gets into the fifty degree range (2+ climbs or above) than I will use my Petzl Quarks. With crampons, if the climb is lower angle snow than I will use my Petzl Leopard's. If it gets slightly steeper than I will pair them with my mountaineering boots for more stability when front pointing. When the terrain gets into the forty degree range or above, than I will use my Black Diamond Sabretooth 12 point crampons. You may think to yourself - wow...that's a lot of gear to own. Yeah, I also get out a lot. I also like to choose the best tool for the job to increase speed and safety which means I have more fun. For Stone Peak, the steeper section would push the Petzl Leopard's to my limit when paired with a flexible hiking boot and I wanted to see how it would work. When I got onto the steeper section of the couloir, I could immediately feel the difference in security. My mountaineering boots have a stiff sole which provides a solid platform. My hiking boots felt like I had crampons attached to a sandal. Well, I guess I found my limit of these crampons on hiking boots! A look at the upper part of the couloir where it steepened up. Challenging in soft boots! I wound up having to kick steps all the way up the couloir. The snow was firm and my toes were in agony. This process was painfully slow but I could not afford to get lazy. Near the top, I angled off to the climbers right to try and get off the snow. I looked for a way to climb the South West facing terrain to the summit, but it was steep and broken. At a few points I considered turning around. I stayed focused and made my way to the top of the couloir. What would be a simple climb with mountaineering boots turned into an exhilarating climb! I sidled to the North West aspect of the mountain and climbed unbelievably loose rock to the summit. Quite a few times I dislodged a massive piles of rocks that crashed below me which echoed around the mountains. Finally, I stood atop the summit. The Southern aspects of Mount Larkins were still covered in snow which glistened in the early morning light. Turning around I viewed the rarely climbed Major Peak. Across the lake I was amazed to see how much snow was still on Bold Peak and the Humboldt Mountains. As always, the views were incredible and I was grateful to be there. I had a quick bite to eat and decided to get back down the couloir while the snow was still in good condition. I found the down climb to be slightly less arduous only due to the fact that I could follow in the steps I had previously kicked. It was great to be off the snow and I allowed myself my first real break in the day - six hours in. The retreat back to the car never really gets any easier even though I get fitter by the trip. The legs still tire, the toes hurt, the sun relentless. Fortunately, what never gets old is a cold plunge in the stunning Lake Whakatipu post trip. After my dip, I parked my van in the shade and dozed off for a much needed afternoon nap. This was a great trip...stoked on Stone! Happy days...

Date: June 8, 2024 Location: Twenty Five Mile Range, Whakaari Conservation Area, Queenstown, Otago, New Zealand Team: Solo Field Notes: An excellent route to a remote peak in the Queenstown area without a soul in sight. Follow the 4wd track until crossing Moke Creek and veering left to climb the obvious scrub free spur. Unbeknownst to myself, this route is called "Moke Spur" and is marked by a few orange poles. The route ends at roughly 820 meters. Continue up the obvious ridge until it tops out near Point 1495. Head north to Point 1599 until dropping into a basin where there is fresh water. Climb up and sidle northwest past Point 1799 to gain the summit ridge. Ben More Route Topo I had my eye on Ben More ever since I climbed Mount Hanley a few months back. That day was relatively uninspiring, but Ben More really caught my eye. A theme one would notice with this blog is that I enjoy climbing mountains that seem obscure or out of the way. From my research, I couldn't find any information about Ben More which made it all the more appealing. With a perfect weather forecast I headed out to Moke Lake. Although there isn't much snow at the moment, it sure feels like winter. The temperatures briefly touched freezing overnight and I was glad to have paid an electrician to install a diesel heater in the van. There was a blanket of low cloud at camp and it looked to be a day above the clouds. A frosty morning along the Moonlight Track Around eight in the morning I left the campground and followed the 4wd track up Moke Creek. After trying to unsuccessfully hop across the creek I soaked my boots and socks and somehow found the courage to soldier on. Jokes aside, it is depressing to get your feet completely wet in the first fifteen minutes. As I climbed the spur I noticed something orange sticking out of the ground - a pole! I looked uphill and spotted another one. This caught me by surprise because I didn't think there was any route up here. I followed the poles upward in the same way that I had planned the route. Abruptly, the route ended at 820 meters. I continued on, following the obvious ridge to Point 1495. Near PT 1599, Ben More is just visible behind PT 1799 which is covered in ice At the top of the ridge I had my first view of Ben More. My heart sank a bit. I left the spikes in the car not thinking I would need them. Mainly, I didn't want to carry the extra weight. As I looked towards the peak, there seemed to be some snow and potentially icy sections. There was only one way to find out. I followed the broad ridge and soaked in the perfect views of the Twenty Five Mile Range. The morning was absolutely perfect. Blue skies, no wind, and totally above the clouds. The scenery was brilliant. Once I reached Point 1599 I still wasn't optimistic. I couldn't tell if there was ice build up along the slopes toward the peak. It's so funny how the mind wants the easy option and to pack it in. No chance and laughed at the thought. From my vantage point, the easiest option to gain the summit ridge was to drop into the basin below, climb out, and sidle past Point 1799. This would add another three hundred odd meters to my day, which I looked at as extra training for the bigger days. I dropped into the basin below, drank some fresh mountain water, and headed upwards. This was a day I could've gone for hours and hours. I thanked my body for continuing to stick with me all of these years. It still blows me away just how far I've come from being virtually disabled for so many years and how much more room I have for growth. Once out of the basin I realized that conditions were totally fine. In hindsight, I still should've had a pair of light spikes, but I was relieved that this was going to turn into a new summit. It's always funny how the perspective from which one views terrain is so critically important. At certain angles, the mountain looks casual. From other vantage points, it looks impossible to climb! To this point, I remember back in November when I climbed Mount Barth. From the bivy rocks, I thought the face looked pretty casual. When I got there, I measured what I thought was the steepest part of the face. It turned out to be fifty degrees! Pretty steep without a rope. Gaining the summit ridge of a mountain in perfect weather above the clouds is a feeling that will never, ever get old. The Richardson Mountains exploded skyward while the East Peak of Mount Earnslaw poked out in the distance. The view from the summit was spectacular. Without a breath of wind, I basked in the glory atop the perfect peak. From left to right: Major Peak, Stone Peak, Mount Larkins, Mount Butement To the east lay Bowen Peak and Ben Lomond, which on a day like today, most likely saw at least one hundred trampers. Who can blame them? To the north lay the chain of the Richardson Mountains, one of my favorite mountain ranges. Minor Peak, Major Peak, Stone Peak, Larkins, and Butement. In the far back, Centaur Peaks. I love tramping as much as I love backcountry skiing and as much as I love mountaineering. Each of these buckets provides there own sense of adventure and a different way to explore the mountains. Climbing Ben More, although not a major mission by any means, is just as fulfilling as the bigger, more committing climbs. Craigellachie center image Forty five minutes later I decided it was time to head down. I retraced my steps, smashed down the spur, and arrived back at the van to a very cold late afternoon. The day ended with a hot shower back in Queenstown. Happy days...

Date: May 14 - 15 , 2024 Location: Hāwea Conservation Park, Otago, New Zealand Team: Solo Field Notes: This is a fantastic route over two peaks with a stay at a remote hut stocked with firewood. Travel up Lower Timaru River Track until one reaches Junction Hut. From here, take the obvious scrub free spur and join the ridge at 780 meters. Travel north along this ridge over Points 1073, 1317, and 1414 until eventually dropping roughly 400 meters to Moonlight and Roses Hut. From the hut, climb tussock slopes in a northwesterly direction until crossing over the ridge at 1600 meters. Climb to a saddle between Dingle Peak and Point 1739, then climb the easy northeasterly ridge. For Corner Peak, follow the entire west ridge down to the saddle between the two peaks and follow the simple tussock slopes up to the summit. Take the Corner Peak route back to the car. There is no water beyond the hut. Dingle and Corner Peak Route Map When I had climbed Ben Lomond the other week with my friend Liam under a spell of beautiful weather, I swore it would be the last trip for a month. I'm following my nose lately with surfing as this is prime season for it. The mountains, on the other hand, are going through a transition season. With all of this said, I saw a beautiful forecast line up in Wanaka and the town webcam showed me that the mountains around Hawea were still snow free. So I packed my bags... Corner Peak (left) and Dingle Peak (right). The traverse follows the skyline ridge. I was indecisive about whether I should take the Timaru High route or Lower route. I settled on the river route and guessed that I’d be able to dry my boots at the hut. Plus, it would save me significant elevation gain. I’ve never been fond of river travel and this didn’t change my mind. I feel like it’s difficult to get into a flow. It didn’t help that I tried to avoid getting my boots wet the first twenty minutes until I eventually caved and trudged through the crossings. This is easily the simplest way. Just go. I reached Junction Hut and decided it was time for a snack before I began my climbing for the day. Then, as if I was transported back to the times of Moses, sand flies descended upon me in ravenous fashion. It actually reminded me of being deep in the West Coast. I decided it actually wasn’t time for a snack and marched straight uphill. Once I gained the ridge towards Point 1414 I did indeed stop for a snack - a delicious sandwich with sourdough bread. It was deathly quiet. I hadn’t seen a soul. No cars in the parking lot either. The air was light, cold, and crisp. I marched onward towards Point 1414, sticking true to the ridge the entire time. There was a bit of light bush bashing to navigate, but by sticking directly on the ridge I was able to follow deer trails. I broke out of the trees and got a magnificent view of the ridge ahead and Dingle Peak. For a few hours I bobbed and weaved along the ridge, steadily gaining elevation. In the late afternoon a breeze picked up and layers were added to the body. Winter is on its way. By this point I had enough of climbing and decided to sidle east of Point 1414 and dropped quickly to Moonlight and Roses Hut. How happy I was to see it. There was no way anyone would be here. I opened the door and immediately came to the conclusion I was dead wrong. Gear was strewn everywhere and it looked as if all four bunks were taken. I sat down on a chair and thought about how miserable my night was going to be on the floor without a sleeping pad. I decided to get the fire roaring and eat before the hunters got back. As the sun set, darkness settled in and I wondered if the hunters would return. Around six-thirty, two headlamps approached the hut. I opened the door and met the father and son combo - Greg and Charlie. To my relief it was just the two of them, which meant I was able to have a bunk. Happy days! They apologized for the mess, which didn’t actually bother me. I was concerned about getting a mattress! They didn’t think anyone would be here and neither did I. Assumptions are the death of truth. One of the highlights of staying in huts are the people you meet. Greg and Charlie were two fantastic blokes. From the North Island raised in a rural environment. Charlie currently drives tractors and Greg a veterinarian. They have a deep respect for animals and you could tell how humble they both were. That night I slept like a barnyard animal. Morning wasn’t too cold but I stoked the fire anyways. Coffee went down the pipe along with some hot oatmeal. At seven-thirty I launched into the alpine. Up I went. Light slowly entered the atmosphere, perspiration gathered at the brow and stars receded. Within an hour I had climbed five hundred meters and sidled into the basin below Dingle Peak at 1,600 meters. From the southeasterly perspective, Dingle Peak looks formidable. I reached the saddle between Dingle and Point 1739 and began climbing the east ridge. Peaks of the Makarora Two hours since leaving the hut I stood atop the peak and the views were phenomenal. What caught my eye was Maungatika - a peak I imagine is rarely climbed. The views out toward the upper Makarora and the Aspiring Region were just insane. Sometimes I wish I still had my nice Sony camera… After a long break atop the summit I headed West towards Corner Peak. It took one hour to reach the saddle between the two mountains and from there maybe forty-five minutes to stand atop my second summit for the day. This summit is also spectacular. There was also a terrific view of Sentinel Peak as well. The summit of Corner Peak There wasn’t a breath of wind on the summit so I decided to get out the stove and brew a cup of coffee. There was a three hour descent coming my way and wanted to add as much fuel to the tank as possible. I slugged the coffee and began my march back to the car park. Day two turned out to be an eight and a half hour day. This trip actually surprised me with how physically challenging it was. For example, you climb significantly more elevation doing this trip than the towering Brewster out in the distance. New Zealand doesn’t really have any “easy” mountains to climb after all. Happy days…

Date: April 29, 2024 Location: Richardson Mountains, Glenorchy, Otago, New Zealand Team: Solo Field Notes: An excellent walk with fantastic access directly off the Glenorchy Queenstown road. You can see the summit from the parking lot. Park at Lake Face Creek Falls trailhead, walk across the street, and head straight uphill doing your best to avoid the scrub between 700 and 950 meters. Take the northwest ridge to the summit. Minor Peak Route Topo Minor Peak Route from the road With the new snow beginning to fall and winter approaching, I sought out a trip where I could still get up relatively high. Minor Peak seemed like a quick trip in comparison to others and it would also give me the opportunity to scout out the route for Stone Peak. I parked at Lake Face Creek trailhead and stared up the at the 1,768 meter summit which can be viewed directly from the road. It was a perfect autumn day. There was not a cloud in the sky and as I began climbing up the ridge I realized I wasn't wearing my sunglasses. Rather than walk three minutes back to the car I continued uphill. A few frightened sheep later and I hit the scrub at roughly 800 meters. This is totally avoidable by sidling south, however, there are ankle high thorn bushes to deal with and it's better to just pick a route through the scrub. Once through this short section of bush, travel is fast. I gained the summit ridge in just over two hours and the views of Stone Peak, Mount Larkins, and Major Peak are sensational. Stone Peak, Sentinel, Larkins As I looked up at Major Peak I asked myself a very sincere question: is this skied from the summit? From my initial research I haven't found any information online (which is typical of New Zealand mountains). But I've climbed that face before and think it could make for a fantastic ski mountaineering mission. As I reached the final steps to the summit of Minor Peak I couldn't help but feel a pulse of excitement through my veins for the upcoming winter season. There is so much to do here in New Zealand we are beyond blessed. This will be my first ski mountaineering season here and am looking forward to exploring the mountains with planks attached to my feet. Happy days...

Date: April 20, 2024 Location: Harris Mountains, West Matukituki, Mount Aspiring National Park, Otago, New Zealand Team: Henry Frakes Field Notes: The North East ridge of Tyndall is accessed by climbing the Cascade Saddle route from Aspiring Hut. There is water at 940 meters on the climb. From the Pylon, travel the easy ridge heading south towards the peak. Sidle below Point 2380 and aim directly for the North East ridge. Scramble loose rock to the summit. There are excellent campsites with reliable water sources along the ridge. Mount Tyndall Route Topo Authors Note: below is my personal account of a light and fast attempt on Tyndall. Although a long day, the climb is straightforward and we simply chose the wrong route across the glacier and ran out of time. A successful ascent of Tyndall can be viewed here. It took until the end of the season to finally go on a mission with someone other than myself. I originally met Henry when I went to get a phone plan back in late spring. Oddly enough, I wanted a phone plan so I could make connections with other climbers and he was the person working there that day. Some things are too serendipitous. So we found ourselves meeting at the Raspberry Flat trailhead the night prior. Our plan was to start at 7 am and go light and fast - ticking off the summit in one day. I drove the gravel road to the trailhead, cooked dinner, packed, and went to bed. I woke up in the middle of the night to loud music and a car spinning out in the parking lot. Five minutes later the truck returned and out popped a local Kiwi farmer-looking guy, likely in his early twenties. It was two in the morning. He began knocking on cars, waking people up, and asking them where "Aspiring Hut was." After seeing him wake up the third group of people, I walked up to him and asked what he was doing. After a minute or two standoff in which I think he was surprised that a guy bigger than him with his shirt off was confronting him, he got back in the truck. They never returned. It was odd to have this experience out here, but I suppose anything can happen when alcohol is involved. A few cups of coffee later, Henry and I set off at quarter after seven. The morning was very cold, very crisp, and very beautiful. Because I've vowed never to walk the approach up the West Matukituki ever again, I biked. Henry, without a bike, ran. Somehow we arrived at Aspiring Hut at the same time. The bike was stashed, we drank some water and began our climb. The route to the pylon at the top of Cascade Saddle climbs 1,370 meters in a very short distance. I think we were both feeling excellent this morning because we reached the top in two hours twenty. I could tell already that Henry was very fit. We refueled and kept our face towards Tyndall. Mount Tyndall is one of those peaks that never seems to get any closer. Then, as if we were propelled forward by some imaginary force, it felt right in front of us. We were about 250 meters from the summit. All we had to do was cross a short glacier, climb the ridge, and reach the summit. As we were walking across the glacier, suddenly, Henry broke through a crevasse up to his knee. Whoa. We both stopped and expressed our surprise. I think we were both totally locked into "crushing it" mode that we never stopped to evaluate that we were on a glacier that we've never been on without crevasse rescue gear. Not even five minutes later the snow gave away under my left foot and I broke through a crevasse, scraping my leg on the icy lip, blooding my leg. Now we were awake. I quickly bandaged my leg and we retraced our steps back to solid rock and decided to talk things over. The issue was not that there was a glacier or that the climb was dangerous. Tyndall, by mountaineering standards, is on the easy end of the spectrum. A scramble at best. The glacier is traversed typically without glacier gear. The issue was that there had been recent snowfall over the last week and it had covered the crevasses, making it extremely difficult to tell where they were. We chose the wrong route across the glacier and should've climbed the rock rib to our left. For perspective, I had climbed Mount Liverpool a month and a half ago. On that trip, the first peak one ascends is Plunket Dome. and it was very crevassed. Today, it looked like a snow field. If one had never seen it before, you wouldn't think crevasses were ever there. Henry retreating back to Cascade Saddle. Barff, Aspiring, and Rob Roy on the horizon. Then we heard the sound of a helicopter. In some sort of joke, the helicopter flew over the ridge and landed directly on the glacier. A group of tourists jumped out of the helicopter, walked around the glacier, jumped back in, and left. We couldn't believe it. In hindsight it was very obvious... we simply chose the wrong route. We should have stayed high, avoided the glacier, and scrambled up the North East Ridge to the summit. Thankfully we laughed it off and decided to pack it in for the day. We made quick work of the descent and headed back towards our vehicles. Even though we didn't reach the summit on this particular trip, it was still a fantastic day out. It was epic to finally have a partner to go on a mission with. Henry is a guy that I can grow in the mountains with. Happy days...

Date: April 9, 2024 Location: Mount Roland Regional Reserve, Sheffield, Tasmania, Australia Team: Solo Field Notes: Mount Roland is a fantastic walk through stunning Tasmanian forest and a 360 degree summit with views of mountains and the ocean. Mount Roland Route Topo Happy days...

Date: April 5, 2024 Location: Walls of Jerusalem National Park, Tasmania, Australia Team: Solo Field Notes: A nice walk through beautiful country. Most of the elevation is gained on the approach and the peaks hardly require any climbing. There are nice campsites in this area. Solomon's Throne & The Temple Route Topo Happy days...

Date: March 13, 2024 Location: Twenty Five Mile Range, Queenstown, Otago, New Zealand Team: Solo Field Notes: Take the track around Moke Lake until one reaches the southern end of the lake. Find a sheeps trail that climbs directly up a spur to reach the top of Williamsons Spur at roughly 1300 meters. From here, follow the spur until it joins the east ridge of Mount Hanley. Climb up and over Point 1572 and scramble up to the summit of Mount Hanley. There is some moderate exposure to reach the summit. Moke Lake Campsite is an incredible place to spend a night. Mount Hanley Route Topo Happy days...

Date: February 4, 2024 Location: Richardson Mountains, Queenstown, Otago, New Zealand Team: Solo Field Notes: Although this is not a place to go if one is looking for solitude, the views are spectacular. Bowen Peak offers a chance to escape some of the crowds with an easy walk from Ben Lomond Saddle. I did, however, share the summit with a helicopter dropping off some bikers! Ben Lomond and Bowen Peak Route Topo Happy days...

Date: January 30, 2024 Location: Richardson Mountains, Glenorchy, Otago, New Zealand Team: Solo Field Notes: A fun scramble with fantastic access directly off the Glenorchy Queenstown road. Park at Lake Creek Creek Falls trailhead and follow the orange poled route directly up the ridge. Continue up the ridge beyond the fence line. Sidle into the Basin at roughly 1,620 meters. Climb the diagonal ledge across the face that leads to a moderate rock scramble to reach the summit. Seasonal conditions will dictate how challenging the upper face will be. Major Peak Route Topo The last two weeks in Queenstown have been wet, cold, and windy. I was pleased to see a good spell of weather line up and decided on climbing Major Peak off the Queenstown Glenorchy road. The access for this climb is great. I parked at Lake Face Creek trailhead and headed directly up the spur on the true right of the creek. To my surprise there was a solid trail and poled route that led up the ridgeline. There was virtually no scrub and travel was fast. With a super light pack I made fast time and enjoyed the feeling of being light on my feet. I started very early in the morning and the stillness and soft light of early morning is always a gift. After climbing non-stop for 1,000 meters I decided I'd take a quick break and eat my first meal of the day. The views across Lake Whakatipu to the Humboldt, Ailsa, and Thomson mountain ranges was amazing. It's mind blowing just how many mountains there are in New Zealand. I kept moving and at 1,620 meters sidled into the Basin, five hundred meters below the summit. From here the route seemed obvious. I would take the diagonal leading ledge across the face and scramble to the top. I popped on my helmet and began to work up the face. Major Peak Summit Route The climb was never that steep until the final thirty meters or so were I encountered moderately steep but easy rock. I arrived on the summit exactly three and a half hours since leaving the car. The views from the summit were spectacular. I particularly enjoyed the view north towards Wire Saddle, Stone Peak, and Mount Larkins. I relaxed on the summit for about thirty minutes, eventually tearing myself away. Care had to be taken off the summit as there was a bit of loose rock. Larger parties may want a helmet as I did kick off a rock or two. It was relatively quick work back down to the car and I finished the day with a lovely cold soak in Lake Face Creek. Happy days... Minor Peak, Lake Whakatipu, and the Thomson Mountains

Date: January 18, 2024 Location: Tapuae-o-Uenuku / Hector Mountains, Kingston, Otago, New Zealand Team: Solo Field Notes: A perfect training hike and / or if you're looking to find solitude. The trail is accessed via Glen Nevis Station Road which is suitable for all vehicles. There is parking at the DOC sign and the trail follows a 4wd track until the 1,150 meter contour. From here, follow the fence line directly the summit. The views over the Hector Mountains, Lake Wakatipu, and the Eyre Mountains are fantastic. Lorn Peak Route Topo The Hector Mountains from Lorn Peak Happy days...

Date: January 1 - 4, 2024 Location: Barrier Range, Mount Aspiring National Park, Otago, New Zealand Team: Solo Field Notes: The Barrier Range is one of the most stunning ranges I have ever laid eyes on. Two days of travel is typically required to reach the alpine with very strong navigation skills. The crux of the trip is route finding once across the wire bridge at Daley's Flat. There is a natural rock bridge 80 meters above the Dart that allows easy travel across the Margaret Burn (location on map). Finding this rock bridge is critical. From here, a 500 meter bushwhack gives way to an open ridge line. Tarns and spectacular camp spots are at 1,540 meters. To summit Johansen, climb the SW face and then sidle east to bypass the summit ridge to avoid false summits. Scramble up exposed rock on the SE ridge to reach the true summit. Johansen Peak, Barrier Range Route Topo. The pin indicates the location of the rock bridge. Just two days after climbing Mount Aurum I found myself heading up the Dart Valley. The weather forecast was giving me three very solid days of high pressure and I knew that this was realistically my only chance to visit the Barrier Range over the next year. Sometimes when opportunity strikes you find yourself surprised by how quickly it comes. This is the beauty of riding the wave of life. The Dart Valley is a huge contrast to the Rees side. The Dart River is massive, fed by the huge glaciers of the Whitbourn, Hesse, and Dart. The Rees River you can drive, bike, or walk through. When I went to climb Mount Clarke I loved biking up the wide open valley. In contrast, as I made my way up the Dart it was a series of ups and downs, spending much time in the forests. Looking into the Beans Burn It was about 17.5 km's to reach my first destination of the trip, Daley's Flat Hut. My pack was the heaviest it had been in a very long time. Two ice axes, crampons, helmet, mountaineering boots, shelter, and four days of food. There was no way to go lightweight on this one. I broke up the approach into a series of one to one and a half hour stops so that I didn't burn myself out as days two and three would be much bigger. After five hours on the dot I arrived at Daley's Flat Hut and was surprised to only see a few folks there, being New Years on the popular Rees-Dart track. The people that were there, however, were a real treat to be around. For most trips I do, I almost always have the hut to myself and I love the solitude. But it was great to share a hut with some new folks. One person I really enjoyed speaking to was Ryan from Florida. We both shared a passion for maps, adventures, health, and life. It was a pleasure to meet him. I had a leisurely morning before I began the climb to reach the Barrier Range. I figured it would be another five hour day and saw no point rushing out. I shared a nice morning with Ryan and his wife, excited to hear about their additional travel plans in New Zealand. They made their way out of the hut around ten and I followed soon after, butterflies in my stomach. Ryan and his wife leaving Daleys Flat Hut To be honest, the scariest part of the trip was crossing the wire bridge above the Dart! God bless the people who put that in. As soon as I crossed the wire bridge there is nothing but forest. I had spent months of research on this route and it was time to make it happen. I headed in a northerly direction and looked for a deer trail that would lead me to the natural rock bridge. A bushwhack through stunning beech forest I didn't find much of a deer trail but made my way through the bush for about thirty minutes and landed directly on the rock bridge. Stoked! I will make a note here: finding this rock bridge is critical as I'm not sure how one would be able to get across the Margaret Burn without it. Feeling more confident, I found a very solid deer trail that took me directly up through the forest for about three hundred meters. This was not bad at all! Then reality struck as it always does in the hills. The deer trail ended and I met some pretty heinous scrub and terrain. I'm not sure how to describe this, but there were huge holes and chasms in the mountain side that would lead to dead ends. My parents would be so disappointed to hear the words that were coming out of my mouth! Finally, I broke out of the scrub and reached tussock slopes at the 1,100 meter mark. I continued to make my way upwards, feeling drained and dehydrated. The terrain was much easier now and I was waiting for my first view of the Barrier Range that I have dreamed about for so long. Tussock gave way to rock and at 1500 meters I was in another planet. What lay in front of me was arguably the most spectacular group of mountains I have ever laid eyes on. The peaks of the Barrier Range combined with the gnarly Margaret Glacier looked formidable. Two days of hard work and I felt very much rewarded. The mighty Barrier Range. Albert Peak, Gino, Watkins, Steffanson and Desperation Pass I set up a camp out of the wind and took a spectacular swim in the nearby alpine tarn. This was a campsite of dreams. I hung out in my sleeping bag, drinking tea and admiring the view when I heard voices in the distance. No way I thought...people? Sure enough, three women came bounding up over the ridge and right into camp. I was barefoot just laying in my sleeping bag and they literally thought I came up here like that as my tent was out of sight! Hilarious. That night I went to bed early as my plan was to be up for sunrise. My alarm rang at five and I quickly gathered my things, made a coffee, and set out for the climb. The morning was of the Gods. Perfection. Calm. Alpenglow baked the peaks. I'll allow the photos to speak for themselves. My goal was to climb Johansen first, than head down to Seal Col, then bag Stefansson and Watkins. I gained the snowfields below Johansen and worked my up the southwest face. The snow was perfect and the morning stunning. I was pinching myself. At the top of the southwest face I followed the broad ridge up to the summit plateau. From here it seemed an easy walk to the summit. A few final steps and I shouted out in excitement as I thought I reached the top, however, when I reached the peak I realized it was a false summit! I looked further along the ridge and there was a point that was definitely higher, with some very exposed climbing to reach it. SW Face of Johansen Peak, steeper than it looks but an easy climb nonetheless In that very moment I thought about just accepting where I was but something inside of me urged to keep exploring. I down climbed the ridge and then sidled along to the east. I had a look at the true summit and the climbing seemed exposed, again my mind convinced me this was good enough. I knew I would regret this if I did not keep pushing, there was absolutely no reason to turn around. I sidled under the summit and began to climb the southeast ridge. Scree gave way to steep ledges but the rock was surprisingly very solid and enjoyable to climb. Once above the ledges, I gained a narrow and exposed ridge that took me directly to the summit. From here I let out of a shout of joy - I couldn't believe it. I had dreamed of climbing in the Barrier Range ever since I came across photos of this place so many years ago. Here I was, in perfect weather, in complete solitude, on a lofty summit. Dreams are the seedlings of reality. - Napoleon Hill After hanging out on the summit for thirty minutes or so, I decided to keep moving. I down climbed the ridge and put crampons back on. It was nine in the morning and the snow was completely isothermic. Being that I was on a southeast aspect and to climb Steffanson required me to climb steep southeast facing slopes, I decided to call it a day. Personally, I didn't really care. I was stoked to bag Johansen and knew that anything besides that was a bonus. In an hour I was back at camp, beaming. The girls congratulated me on the successful summit and it was nice to share our successful journeys with each other. It was dope to see three badass chicks getting after it in the peaks. They were on one hell of a mission. It was also good they ran into me because I was able to give them the beta on how to find the rock bridge on their GPS (even though they would have found it anyways). I went back to camp, had breakfast, packed up and left. A storm was coming in and there was no point lingering. That night I slept in a fully packed Daleys Hut. The following morning I put one foot in front of the other for five hours and reached the end of the trip, exhausted and excited to pay a visit to Miss Woollys. Happy days...

Date: December 27 - 29, 2023 Location: Richardson Mountains, Mount Aurum Recreation Reserve, Queenstown, Otago, New Zealand Team: Solo Field Notes: The Mount Aurum Reserve is stunning and the view from the summit top notch. Archie's Hut is nestled right below Mount Aurum and Bullendale Hut has an open fire place. Once past both huts there is no track. Mount Aurum is a straightforward scramble when following the correct route. Prepare to have wet feet on the approach up Skippers Creek. Vehicle clearance is strongly advised to reach the trailhead. Happy days...

Date: December 19 - 23, 2023 Location: Toaroha Range, Canterbury Westland Alps, Hokitika, West Coast, New Zealand Team: Solo Field Notes: A stunning trip into the rugged and remote mountains of the West Coast. Trails here are rough and I moved significantly slower than I normally do. Expect constant ups and downs if following riverbeds and be extremely careful in heavy rain. Travel to gain the ridge-lines is borderline bushwhacking - and the forests here are thick. I saw three people in 5 days and had only 1 day of rain! One of the most magical trips of my life. “Why’d you come out?” I sat around a $100,000+ RV set up with a mug I bought at a second hand store decorated with cats, filled with sleepy time tea. I stumbled with my answer…”I don’t know…” I pulled into the free camping spot when two legendary Kiwi’s, Buck and Adam, showed up with their family entourage. Adam probably felt bad for me that I was sitting in my soaking wet tent so he invited me over. I was introduced to everyone, however Buck stood out. He was Kiwi, well traveled, loved women, hunting, drinking beer, and teaching his son to get up when he got knocked down in rugby. A man in every sense of the word. Fucking legend. I was trying to explain my trip across the Toaroha Range when he asked me point blank - “why did you come out?” I honestly have no clue. Even as I write this I'm sitting next to a roaring fire above a babbling brook in Mount Aurum. Tomorrow I walk out. Why am I going out when I want to go IN? This is the duality of life. One naturally creates the other. Toaroha Range from Genoa Peak On day one I walked in to Cedar Flat hut. There were only a few cars in the lot and I had a feeling I wasn’t going to see many folks on this one. I’d dreamed about the West Coast for years. Rough mountains and foul weather. It seemed only by the grace of God that one got sunshine here. Lo and behold a perfect forecast struck the West Coast and I drove the six hours to Hokitika. I knew I was going to be in for a good one when I arrived at Cedar Flat hut under the cover of darkness and stumbled into a kiwi brushing his teeth. His accent was thick - no doubt a country boy. He showed me around the hut only to tell me he’s got a rifle on the top bunk and that I shouldn’t be spooked. No worries I told him, fire away. Are you hunting? No, he told me. Are you training? No, he told me. Beats me I thought to myself and went outside to cook dinner under the stars. That night I slept very deeply. On day two I took my damn time. It was a glorious morning. Absolutely bluebird without a cloud. A Polish couple were the only other people in the hut and they told me the hot springs nearby were some of the best they’ve ever been to - and hot springs are their life passion. What are the odds? I hiked the fifteen minutes to the hot springs and I can confirm that it was a borderline religious experience. The hot springs sat on the edge of a freezing cold mountain river. And the hot springs were HOT. I spent about an hour doing multiple rounds of hot cold therapy, all alone, on a perfect bluebird morning on the west coast. Holy shit. At eleven I pulled myself from the hut and figured I should start moving. As I worked up the Toaroha River I realized travel in this neck of the woods was going to be very, very slow. The trails out here are the roughest I’ve ever seen. My original goal was to get to Toaroha Saddle but after three hours of non-stop up and down along a riverbed, I decided to change my plans and I am so glad that I did. First off, it was going to take me a solid seven hours of very hard travel to get to the saddle. This would mean days three and four would be very big days, and I didn't want to be up on the ridge in poor conditions in an area I don't know. I knew rain was coming, and I wanted to get on the tops and experience the ridges in good weather. I decided to take a left and head up to Crystal Biv. This decision was the turning point in the trip. After a borderline bushwhack for an hour and a half I broke treeline and reached the Biv. The views were absolutely stunning. The Diedrechs Range behind me and the Toaroha Range looming above. The Biv was nestled into the shrub like a baby tucked into a cradle. It felt wild to be up here. I wandered down to the tarn and took an amazing skinny dip. The forecast for tomorrow was calling for perfection and I couldn’t wait to get to the tops. That night I slept like a log. Nine hours later I woke to the sound of chirping birds. I looked out the window and my eyes locked on blue sky. I ripped open the door to perfect conditions. I was like a kid on Christmas and made no delay - it was time to get going! Sunrise at Crystal Biv I climbed up through snow grass and into the cloud layer that had blanketed the ridgeline while I was getting ready. This was just an inversion layer and waited patiently to break through. At 1400 meters I finally climbed above the cloud layer and got my first few of the Toaroha Range - wow. Golden light covered the deep green ridglines and baked the clouds. It was a magical sight. I continued to climb higher, sidling gendarmes along the ridge by negotiating steep scrub. Travel continued to be slow and challenging , and I finally reached my first high point at Point 1694. The sun was screaming hot and I was melting. After a thirty minute break I sank back into the clouds and finally reached Zit Saddle, roughly 4 hours into the day. I had a very long way to go and kept moving. I found a tarn below Mount Reeves, refilled my water, broke above the clouds again, and stood atop the high point of my trip. Mountains surrounded me in all directions and I was all alone. The feeling was special. I took another long break before descending to the col below Point 1618. It got quite steep along the ridge that required a down climb to the climbers right to bypass. Travel from here to Genoa Peak was arguably the most stunning of the whole day. I was entirely above the clouds, watching the inversion layer pour over the mountains into the Toaroha Valley. To the right, the snow capped peaks of Arthur’s Pass loomed on the skyline. In front of me, Genoa Peak and The Pinnacle looked wild and rugged. In what felt like Arabian desert heat I continued on. I debated skipping Genoa Peak but remembered the conversation I had with myself earlier… “you will want to skip this peak but you will regret it!” So I began my final ascent of the day. I was feeling quite shitty from the heat when I crested a hill and ran into a beautiful alpine tarn. “OH MY GOD!” I stripped off all my clothes and dove right in. I couldn’t help but laugh out loud - what a mystery life is! Tarn below Genoa Peak Totally recharged I sprinted to the top of the peak and with misty eyes rejoiced at the magic of life. I felt so grateful to be up here. I could see Pinnacle Biv in the valley below, my home for the night. It took me about an hour or so of frustrating terrain to reach the hut. Because Crinkle Top (I can’t believe this is even considered a mountain) lay just fifty meters from the hut I dropped my pack and ran to the top. Finally, nine hours later, I arrived at the Biv. And what a place it was - above a sea of clouds staring at the mountains of Arthur’s Pass. This day will remain as one of the top days I’ve ever had in the hills. Stunner - Pinnacle Biv On day four I decided to have a casual day and wander down to Boo Boo Hut. It was a rainy day and the hut had a wood burner, so why not spend an extra day relaxing and enjoying the warmth of the fire? It took rough two hours to reach the hut. I spent the day chopping wood, cleaning up the hut, reading, and doing cold plunges in the natural pool nearby. It was dead silent besides the sounds of local birds, falling rain, and the occasional wind blowing about the trees. This time of stillness gave me a much needed break from the constant doings of life. The rain had lifted a bit on the morning of day five. I took a final cold plunge in the pool, packed my bag and made the walk out. I was filled with passion and fire for life. That feeling of completing a spectacular trip in the wild recharges the soul like nothing else! I walked non-stop for four hours to reach my vehicle, passing through spectacular forest and deep gorges. The West Coast of New Zealand is one of those places in the world that will forever live untamed, wild, raw, and spectacular. I feel very fortunate to be able to complete such a trip in good weather. Happy days... Note: for more detailed information on West Coast huts and routes, visit: https://www.remotehuts.co.nz/

Date: December 10-11, 2023 Location: Lake Hāwea, Hāwea Conservation Park, Otago, New Zealand Team: Solo Field Notes: Pakituhi Hut is easily reached in about 2-3 hours from the road by way of a beautiful and steep ridgeline. Breast Hill and Breast Peak are easily climbed in about an hour or so from the hut. There is no water en route except for at the hut, which can apparently run dry in the heat of summer. The views from the summits are fantastic. Breast Hill, Breast Peak, and Pakituhi Hut Route Topo Spring weather has been in full effect in Otago. The last week has been wet and very windy. I monitor the weather daily as I had hopes of trying to climb the West Ridge of Fog Peak before the route goes out of condition for the season, but nature had other plans. On Sunday I finished work quite early and the weather was absolutely perfect. My original plan was to sleep in and do a day mission on Monday, but I couldn't pass up on a perfectly calm and clear afternoon. Do I go for Fog Peak...? I sat with the idea and decided against it as I had confliciting weather reports. I look at two major sites for weather in the national parks - Metservice and NIWA. I find the latter to be more accurate. Either way, I had wanted to spend a night in Pakituhi hut while I was in Hawea as it's only a five minute drive from my house! I quickly packed up my gear, fit it all into my 22-liter pack and got underway. The DOC sign for Pakituhi hut says four to five hours to reach the hut. That felt absurd for a mere 950 meter / 5 km climb. I was able to reach the hut in two hours flat and the two elderly women I met in the hut (probably in their 60's) took three hours. The climb is absolutely beautiful the whole way. The trail climbs up through switchbacks for the first 350 meters until it gains a spur. From here it climbs steeply up to meet the col between Breast Hill and Breast Peak. The views of the ridgelinges coming off of Breast Hill almost reminded me of something you'd see in Hawaii. When I arrived at the hut I poked my head in two greet the two Kiwi women. I saw both of the women were wearing toe socks and that obviously got me stoked as I love a good pair of toe socks! I was telling them how much I loved my toe spreaders - Yoga Toes. I'm actually wearing them right now as I write this. My little sister used to eat me alive for wearing toe socks, but I'll tell ya...it's a thing ;) As I unpacked I realized I forgot my stove. Classic. The one time I didn't check my gearlist. Thankfully the Kiwi women were more than happy to to let me use their Jetboil. I cooked dinner and talked with a Swiss/American woman who joined the hut soon after me. Pakituhi Hut Spontaneously, I decided to go up Breast Peak for sunset. It was an absolutely perfect night and one I did not want to waste. I grabbed my puffy and made the dash up to the peak. An hour later I sat alone atop the mountain in the dead silence of evening. It was a sensational sunset and Tititea / Mount Aspiring towered above the landscape. What a mountain. The sun dipped below the horizon and I trotted back to the hut for a nights rest. I set my alarm for 5 am to hit Breast Hill for sunrise. By 5:15 I was out the door and following the track through golden tussock. The sun came up out of the east and the wind came up over the north. I continued to follow the ridgeline until I stood atop Breast Hill about an hour since leaving the hut. More stunning views over the Makarora and I could even spot Mount White from just a few days ago. Golden sunrise over Breast Hill To get out of the wind, I hid behind a big rock and snacked on some venison salami, goat cheese, and crackers before wandering back to the hut for breakfast. It had been a good trip and I was looking forward to getting back down to my car early so I could have the entire day to relax. I bid the women farewell and left Pakituhi Hut around 9 am. I made my way down the ridge in a stiff breeze, passing a hiker doing the Te Araroa heading for Stodys Hut. Less than ten minutes from my car I saw a hiker heading up through the switchbacks. "Heyyaa!" he called out from below. Although we weren't close yet, I could feel his energy. He was stoked on life. It immediately drew me in. As he got closer I stepped just off the track to allow him to pass by and have a chat. His name was Brin and he was doing the TA as well. It was nine o clock on a Monday morning and Brin was in the zone. I began to ask him about his experience on the Te Araroa trail which ultimately led to talking about thru-hiking. I shared my experience doing the John Muir Trail when I was around twenty and how it still is possibly the most transformative experience of my life. Brin spoke of things that stirred emotions in my soul - daily life on trail, simplicity, unbridled connection with nature, new relationships, and mainly - the openness, mentally and emotionally, that comes when one sheds that cloak they have been wearing for so long. It was obvious that Brin wasn't chasing anything. He wasn't on the trail to "find himself." He wasn't running from anything. Brin was here and now, open to whatever life presented to him, with no expectations or preferences, and enjoying it all along the way. That is freedom. That short conversation left quite an impact on me. What is crazy (but not crazy as this is how life goes), is that I was thinking about these things on my way down the ridge. Brin was the one to bring it full circle. I'm not even sure Brin was real... was I hallucinating? Over the last few years I have observed myself in a very particular routine. To be clear, I love my life. However, it is so easy to find oneself constantly optimizing for comfort. Comfort is very dangerous. Deep down, I have had a calling to go do certain things, to have a massive shakeup. I have delayed some of these decisions due to limiting beliefs around money, work, and mainly my health. Comfort. This trip was special, but even more special was that encounter with Brin. Because of this, I have aleady set new plans on motion. Happy days...

Date: December 7, 2023 Location: Hāwea Conservation Park, Haast Highway, Otago, New Zealand Team: Solo Field Notes: Parking can be found at a pullout at Boundary Creek. From here, follow the 4wd track until you reach an elevation of 850 meters. Take the obvious leading ridge up through tussock until the ridge continues north towards Mount White. For most of the way there is a deer trail and / or obvious makings of others who have taken this route. There is no water and the entire route is exposed to the sun. Mount White Route Topo Happy days...

Date: Nov. 30 - Dec. 1, 2023 Location: Humboldt Mountains, Mount Aspiring National Park, Glenorchy, Otago, New Zealand Team: Solo Field Notes: Poor snow and route conditions turned me around 450 meters from the summit. The Somnus Couloir is best climbed in September to early November with stable snow conditions. I was a few weeks too late. The couloir is never that steep but has much objective hazard (described below). Easy access can be had by staying at Hobbs Bivy, a 3.5 hour walk from the Routeburn Shelter. * Click here for a successful ski descent of Somnus Couloir It's crazy to think that less than a week ago I was climbing Mount Barth. It almost felt too quick to pack up the bags again for another mission, but when the weather is good here in New Zealand you have to go for it. My plan was to climb Somnus via the Somnus Couloir; an 800 meter chute in the heart of the North Routeburn. The mighty Somnus Couloir The day before leaving I got a text from a new potential climbing partner, Henry, about doing the southwest face of Brewster - another dream climb. I've been wanting to do a mission with Henry because he has a ton of experience (way more than me) and seems like a good dude. Unfortunately when I woke up the next morning he was unable to get work off, so I switched back to my original plan of climbing Somnus. I made the two and a half hour drive to Glenorchy, shouldered my pack and started down the trail. Within five minutes I ran into my old friend Tsukasa. I blurted out "oh my God! Tsukasa!" He looked like he saw a ghost. Only 48 hours ago we were sharing a beer together to catch up as we hadn't seen each other in nine years. Now twice in two days. A great start to the trip. The Routeburn track is quite famous and for obvious reasons, it is simply stunning. The forests are almost spiritual. Not even almost, they are spiritual. I arrived at Routeburn Flats not feeling entirely optimistic. It was really, really warm and when I looked up high I couldn't see any snow. At this moment I thought about diverting my plans to climb Xenicus but decided this was my only chance in the season to climb Somnus. Routeburn Flats Hut I spoke to the hut warden to see if she knew anything about conditions and she told me that a party had successfully climbed the peak one week ago, but since then it had gotten really hot. She also said she climbed Xenicus today and that it looked like a bergschrund had opened up in the middle of couloir, but she couldn't be 100% sure. I sat at the creek and weighed my options. Ultimately, I had to take a look. When I reached Hobbs Bivy I was greeted by one thousand bugs. I was really glad I chose to wear long clothing! I collected some firewood and got a nice fire going - always a treat in the mountains. I went down to the river to soak my feet and have a look at the route. At first impression it didn't look great. I could see three different places where a bergschrund had opened up. Cloud had funneled into the couloir making it difficult to appropriately assess conditions. Ultimately, the only way to truly know something is to experience it. I headed back up to camp and went to sleep. I woke up at 2 am, packed my stuff, made a coffee, and got underway. It was warm. Another red flag. At this point I felt that the odds of the route being in condition were slim. I climbed up into the couloir and felt the snow. It was soaked. Isothermic. Damn. I kept climbed climbing because I wanted to see if the snow became firmer with elevation. I wasn't concerned about getting avalanched at this point, I was concerned about the icy walls that lay about the couloir. I made good time and kept climbing higher when I reached my first obstacle - a bergschrund lay in front of me that required a climbing move (except it was soft snow and not ice). It was a 4 foot vertical step and the crack below would likely be fatal if I fell into it. I felt fine, made the move and climbed on. Higher I reached a second schrund. This was actually sketchier because I had to trust a snow bridge that I had almost no trust in. This was a deep fucking hole. I worked my way across the snow bridge and climbed higher. At this point I stopped and had to have a conversation with myself. The first schrund was not too bad and the risk of falling into the hole was extremely, extremely low because of the way it was angled. The second shrund I relied on fate, luck, or chance. Without a partner and without a rope and with overly warm conditions it was an extremely risky move. I told myself that if I got to a third major obstacle I would turn around. Ten minutes later I reached the third and final schrund that I spied from the valley yesterday. It required crossing another snow bridge. It was a no brainer and I made a deal with myself already. The risk was too much at this point and I turned around. Intuitively, it never felt right anyways. I know that I could've crossed that third schrund, bagged the summit, and got back to the car in one piece...but at what cost? The thing is, when you start taking big risks in the mountains and you get away with it, it fucks you. It fucks you because if you do that enough you will think it's skill. When I looked into the shrund and saw a bottomless pit, I can not think of a worse way to die or get severely injured. No thanks! As I was near the bottom of the couloir I head a gunshot above me. I actually almost tripped at the sound it was so loud. I turned around and saw a massive ice fall smash into the couloir near where I was climbing just twenty minutes ago. Wow. Bailing on Somnus, Mount Erebus above It felt really nice to be in the valley again out of harms way. I was proud of myself for making the safe decision to turn around. Timing in the mountains is everything and this time the timing was not right. I was a bit gutted to see the summit of Somnus soaring above the clouds though...oh what a lofty summit it is! As I walked out of the North Routeburn an elderly lady came around the corner. "SOMNUS!!!" she squawked. She painted a huge smile on my face. I shared the story of my adventure, the bergschrunds, the shitty snow, and my philosophies on life and death. She said she had a camera and was trying to get a shot of me summiting the peak as the ranger told her I was out here. Oh what a world we live in! She had a captivating energy about her and listened with great interest. Come to find out, she had used to be the hut warden many moons ago in the Routeburn. "Oh well, it'll be here next time," she said. "Come on, go get your coffee in Glenorchy!" So I went and got a coffee in Glenorchy :) Happy days... Stunning Somnus, North Branch of the Routeburn

Date: November 24 - 25, 2023 Location: Huxley Range, Ahuriri Valley, Ohau Landsborough, Otago, New Zealand Team: Solo Field Notes: An excellent grade 2 climb with easy access from the Ahuriri Valley. There are multiple bivy rocks in Canyon Creek so leave your tent at home. I climbed a variation of the south face to the east ridge where it maxs out at 48-49 degrees. An alternate (and potentially faster) descent route would be directly down the south face proper which would generally require a rappel over the berschrund. Seasonal conditions will dictate a lot on this climb. I've never slept well the night before an alpine climb. Why would this time be any different? The wind had finally died off and left me alone to face a God that has existed before my family's family had been here, and will be here well beyond whatever bloodline I leave behind. I decided to pull myself from the warmth of my sleeping bag, climb out of the bivy rock and take one last look at it. The moon was almost full and the sky clear, and the mountain was lit up perfectly. "Oh my god..." I muttered to myself. What a mountain. The beautiful Mount Barth Mount Barth stands at 2,456 meters and completely dominates Canyon Creek. The access is relatively straightforward. On Friday I left Lake Hawea and drove over Lindis pass until taking a left towards Birchwood. I've never been up the Ahuriri Valley before. A sealed gravel road follows the valley north while huge mountains dot the skyline. After thirty minutes of driving, the 2wd road ends at Birchwood Station and becomes a 4wd road. If your car does not have clearance, you will for sure destroy it. And biking to the trailhead doesn't seem worth it unless you have an extra day. Makes sense to get a 4wd for this one. I reached the trailhead parking and didn't waste any time, I was ready to go. The weather was clearing as predicted and I felt very optimistic about this climb. Typically my intuition before a trip tells me a lot. Note: it's not a feeling of "positivity" or "excitement" (which is how I used to make decisions), but rather a feeling of alignment between myself (physically, mentally, emotionally, my skills) and the mountain (weather, snowpack, route conditions, etc.). One thing I am also constantly telling myself is that truly, the summit does not matter. I am an unchanged person regardless of wether I summit or not. For climbers, this is hard to accept. But when has a summit changed me? I have summited close to 150 peaks in my life and the glow, the thrill, the euphoria of every single summit has always worn off - leaving me to want another one. Just like a drug addict. Does this mean I should not climb because I'm an addict? No, because this is the nature of the mind. The mind is a drug addict. It craves. For me, it is simply the awareness of this. I will go on spending time in the mountains because it is something I love in its purity, but I will not be fooled into thinking a summit means more than it is. The track up Canyon Creek is a beauty, but not necessarily straightforward. There was quite a bit of blown down on the track and I had to oscillate between the river and the track. It took me four hours to reach the bivy rock and it did not disappoint. It as completely flat and someone had laid down straw which keeps dirt off belongings and such. The views of Mount Barth were simply incredible. I soaked my feet in the nearby river and prepared dinner. My plan was to be up very early and beat the heat. The forecast for Saturday was meant to be very hot and I didn't want to be up on that mountain while it was heating up. My alarm woke me at 3 am. I think I slept for a total of one hour. The excitement of the climb was too much and no amount of box breathing could get my nervous system to totally relax. The wind had died off around midnight and it was cold. From camp the route looked to be in absolutely perfect condition and I had visualized it one hundred times. I couldn't wait to go climb it. I made a quick coffee and set off at 3:45. What a gift to walk towards the heavens under starry skies. I crossed the glacial fed creeks and picked my way up through the tussock on the climbers right hand side of the valley which provided easy access to the snow slopes above. I donned crampons and an axe and climbed towards the sharks fin looking rock which gave access to the glacier. The snow was perfect. My confidence rose. At this point I had already climbed 650 meters in elevation and was moving well. I traversed across the glacier until I met my route up the south face. I wasted no time and zig-zagged up the slope. As I neared the choke on my route, things steepened and I took out my second tool. When I got to the choke (which I thought was going to be the crux), I realized that just above it actually got slightly steeper. My pulse quickened and a flash of anxiety swept across me. I locked in on my tools and body movements. One, two, three, four... Above the choke the route traverses up and climbers left above a set of cliff bands, where a fall would be impossible to stop and death likely. I measured the slope at 48-49 degrees which is quite steep. Again, I brought my attention back to my tools and body movements. The sound of my tools and crampons making contact with the perfect snow sent me into a hypnotic state. I was fully immersed in the moment, realizing my mortality but also in a state of calm clarity. A connection between body, mountain, and soul. As I topped out on the south face I stepped into the sun on the east ridge. I allowed myself a moment of pleasure and kept moving. The mighty Southern Alps The route follows the east ridge until a necessary traverse back across the south face to gain the summit. This was the second crux of the route. I laid into the face with my tools in the dagger position, focused obsessively on each individual movement. A quick look down reminded me that a fall would be quite bad. Sidling across steep exposed slopes on the south face to gain the summit I kept traversing until I topped out above the couloir on the true south face route. The summit was right there! The wind had picked up significantly and it got very cold very fast. I angled up and to the left, taking my final steps to the top of the peak. Three hours and forty minutes since leaving camp and I was on the summit of Mount Barth. I put on mittens with hand warmers on the inside, a buff, and my puffy jacket. The wind was absolutely ripping and there was not going to be a summit party. I knew my route back across the face was going to be just as precarious as on the way up and I didn't allow myself to turn off. I snapped a few photos, sat on the cold snow, and tried to soak in the moment. The summit of Mount Barth - an ocean of peaks After fifteen cold minutes on the peak it was time to go. I took the same route back down, although I was very tempted to go straight down the south face. Before the climb I told myself this would happen. You would summit and want a quick exit off the peak. However, there was too much risk for me to cross that berschrund solo. Only a tired mind can trick you into going against your plan. I stuck to my guns and made my way safely off the peak. Back at the bivy rock I finally allowed for a short celebration. I still felt as if I was in a dream. Was it the fact I had only gotten one hour of sleep? I'm unsure, but I felt so calm. Not necessarily overjoyed or overly emotional like in years past, but rather that all is well. Everything about this trip had gone perfectly. I came to realize in that moment that this was just an experience, like all experiences, and it was neither good nor bad, but rather just another chapter of this mysterious thing called life. I enjoyed every drop of it, allowing it to wash over me without trying to preserve or hold onto it. That is freedom - for at one minute to hold it so deeply in the palm of your hand and the next to throw it to the wind. I found a pool of cold glacial fed water near camp, so I stripped naked and submerged myself. The cold breathed new life into me. It was shockingly cold. I sat on a patch of grass and allowed the sun to dry my naked body. It was time to go. I packed up my belongings, shouldered my pack and began the walk out. It took four hours to reach the car and I enjoyed meeting people on my hike out, hearing about the different destinations people would visit in the valley. I couldn't help but stop every few minutes to turn and look back. There it stood, like a lighthouse on a wild coast. Towering, majestic, perfect. Mount Barth. Happy days...

Date: October 28 - 29, 2023 Location: Forbes Mountains, Mount Aspiring National Park, Glenorchy, Otago, New Zealand Team: Solo Field Notes: An absolutely brilliant trip up the Rees Valley with easy access via Clarke Slip. Biking up the valley on the 4wd track saves hours of walking, although beware of the river crossings after periods of heavy rain or high melt. There is a bivy rock just out of Clarke Slip at 1,300 meters with plenty of water but it will not provide adequate cover in rough weather. The ascent to the summit of Mount Clarke is straightforward with the south ridge as ones guide. How does one describe the things that happen in the lofty places of the world? Truly, it is an impossible task. I've found my greatest pleasures in life to be in the high places. Yes, amazing women, delicious bread, and roasted meat is another story. But the hills are something totally beyond scope... "The non-climber will never understand it...but we who climb know what life really means...not till you have been to the edge of the abyss can you know how good life is and what a lovely place is the world." - Hermann Buhl The trip started with a bike up the stunning Rees valley. Massive snow capped peaks glistened above. I had about 14-15 km to get to Clarke slip and I could get most of them done by following the 4wd track that goes up the valley. At the first river crossing, I completely lost the 4wd track and spent the next two hours biking over untracked land (side note: I did find the correct track on the way back and the GPX file is correct!). After countless river crossings I came across the 4wd track for the final 15-minutes. At this point I stashed the bike in the woods and set off on foot. I walked through stunning beech forest and couldn't help myself from taking a ton of photos. Wire Bridge New Zealand is other-worldly. From biking through an open valley with towering peaks, crystal clear blue waters of glacial runoff, to a pristine forest filled with greens of every shade. I refreshed myself with a cold drink from the mountain spring and continued onward. Eventually I ended up at Slip Flat where I was to ascend up the southeastern slopes of Mount Clarke. This is obvious, and I think the best ascent / descent route goes up towards the end of the slip. I followed this straight up with easy travel through the forest for a few hundred meters until it turned into a rock field. Travel was significantly easier on the way up than down. Towards the top of the slip I met bluffs straight overhead. From here, the route angles up and to the climbers right still following the rock gully. I climbed onto the ridge, bashed through some scrub on my way upwards, and once passed the bluffs, went to the climbers left and gained the south facing slopes of Mount Clarke. As far as off-route travel goes, this was not bad at all. My next objective was finding the bivy rock. I knew there was one up here but I had no beta on it. With a perfect forecast and zero rain for the next few days, I didn't bring a shelter but brought my winter mountaineering bag (which I did not regret). As I traveled upwards I found it! It was a nice little cutout and perfectly flat. There is room for two people and I would not recommend staying here in rough weather. Rock Bivy on Mount Clarke For the next few hours I focused on hydration and refueling. As the sun dipped behind the mountains, I watched in awe as clouds danced around the summits of Mount Earnslaw. A truly stunning peak. As night fell, the moon replaced the job of the sun and cast its spotlight on the peaks. Every time I opened my eyes I said out loud "this isn't even real!" Mount Earnslaw was completely lit up by the moon and a few stars twinkled above. Magic. At 5 am I turned on the stove to brew some coffee. First light was at six and I wanted to be on the move at that time. I figured: three hours to the summit, thirty minutes of rest time, and an hour and a half down. Travel is straightforward to gain the snowfields. I followed the south facing slopes, always trending to be near the prominent ridge but never on it directly. At 1,500 - 1,600 meters it was time for crampons. After this brief transition I kept moving. Alpenglow made its appearance on the peaks above. Two hours of plodding along the sun finally broke above the south ridge - thank you. Mount Head and Moira Peak were absolutely stunning. From my perspective they looked virtually impossible to climb! I kept moving up the gentle slopes of Mount Clarke and traversed across the face and gained a col to the West. From here, I traveled up along the west facing ridge until I met the final few meters of the summit ridge. It was iced over and had a "knife edge" look to it. I drove my ice axe into the ridge and took the final steps to the top of the peak. What lay ahead of me was hard to take in. The views to the northeast had so many peaks of such incredible scale my head spun. The Snowdrift Range, the Peaks of the East Matukituki, and the Lord of the Bonar Glacier - Mount Aspiring - reached up towards the heavens. It seemed as if there were thousands of peaks in front of my eyes. The cold summit wind brought me back into the present and I backed off the summit and hid behind the ridge to refuel. I applied sunscreen, rehydrated and ate some trail mix. After snapping a dozen photos and videos I made my way off the peak. Getting back to the snow-free ridge was fast. It took me an hour to get back to the place where I had originally put my crampons on. Where the soft snow had slowed my approach up the peak, the soft snow made for very fast travel downwards. I couldn't help but keeping looking back at Mount Head and Moira Peak - wow. Surreal - Moira Peak & the Osonzac Twins Back at the bivy I packed up camp. I knew I still had a fair few hours of travel until I could get back to my car. The route back was pretty uneventful but I will make a quick note: make sure to go slow and choose the best route back to top of Clarke Slip. I rushed it and kept bashing my way through steep bush which was totally unnecessary. I also ate shit and took a hard fall while descending the top of the slip. At the bottom of the slip I gained the main trail and headed south back to my bike. Walking through the shaded forest one final time was a treat. It had been eight hours on the move so far and I was glad to be at the bike. As I peddled back to my car I was fired up to be on the 4wd track the entire time and I took care to not lose it when doing river crossings. Being on the correct track saved me about thirty minutes. At the final river crossing I stripped off all of my clothing and went for my ritual cold plunge. I sat on the warm stones completely naked and let the sun warm my body while I took in my final views of Mount Clarke. What a trip this had been. I love these types of adventures that require multiple disciplines: biking, river crossings, route navigation, bushwhacking, bivying, and mountaineering. This was my type of trip. This is why I am back in New Zealand. This is why I may never leave. Happy days...

Date: October 23, 2023 Location: Arrowtown, Otago, New Zealand Team: Solo Field Notes: A stunning hike that climbs straight up through golden tussock and along a ridge line with spectacular views in all directions. Plenty of water en route except for the tops. I did this route going clockwise and would recommend the same. Happy days... Brow Peak and Big Hill Route Topo

Date: October 18-19, 2023 Location: Richardson Mountains, Whakaari Conservation Area, Glenorchy, Otago, New Zealand Team: Solo Field Notes: One could complete this in a very long day but I opted to stay in the beautiful McIntosh Hut, perched 1,000 meters above the valley floor. From here, the hut gives easy access to the slopes of Black Peak. I ascended the easy wind scoured west ridge until it met the summit ridge. From here, it was an exposed scramble needing axe and crampons (early season). McIntosh Hut and Black Peak Route Topo A dream has finally materialized and I am back in New Zealand. So many years of patience, focus, determination and training has gotten me back to a point where I can climb these mountains again. I am home. In typical New Zealand fashion, the weather has been pretty awful my first week here. The avalanche rating was high and the idea of going after anything above 2,000 meters was a no in my decision making process. The storm dropped a meter of snow above 2,000 meters with strong winds so I opted for something "smaller." There really are no "small" mountains in New Zealand, but relative to the other peaks around. For my first trip back I decided on Black Peak in Glenorchy. I made the hypothesis that with the strong Westerly winds that came with the storm the ascent would be mainly snow free and avalanche hazard low. Secondly, there was a hut to spend the night in and if Black Peak was off, I would have a backup option to scramble up Mount McIntosh. Off I went under bluebird skies on a perfect Wednesday afternoon. I arrived at the trailhead, parked my car, and then walked down the road towards Glenorchy across the bridge. Once across the bridge, I picked up a track through the bush indicated by a piece of flagging tape. From here it was about a four hour slog to the hut following a farming fence line indicated by orange markers. I forgot how steep New Zealand farm country is. As I followed the track, the views immediately opened up of the Humboldt Range - Bold Peak and Mount Bonpland towered above. All of the peaks were coated in a fresh coat of white. Stunning Temple Peak I arrived at the hut just under four hours. I began my cool down ritual of stretching, hydration, a recovery drink, protein, and some breath work. Everything was still. No one was around. McIntosh Hut is an older miners hut and there are still remnants of those that lived here many years ago. As I lay in the top bunk, I drifted into a state of half awake half asleep. Almost hypnotic. I felt I could've slept for fourteen hours but instead it was just one. It was 7pm and time for dinner and sunset. The view from the top bunk I made dinner and sat outside in the fading sun. The light went golden and out came the camera. It felt great to be back in these hills. McIntosh Hut and the Humboldt Range I woke up the next morning around 4:30. There is a distinct difference in sleep quality when in a hut vs a tent. Knowing I needed to burn a few hours before first light, I fired up the stove to have some coffee. I light the candles and enjoyed the pre-dawn solitude. At first light, I slipped into my mountaineering boots and plodded North to the slopes of Black Peak. It was easy going even though I post-holed a bit through crusty snow. The track follows an old miners road. Once at the base of Black Peak, I gained the mostly snow free west Ridge of the peak and plodded straight up to the false summit. At the top, the final 20 meters proved to be the crux and I'm very glad I brought crampons and an ice axe. The summit ridge was an exposed and airy corniced ridge. A fall to the left would be very bad, a fall to the right could potentially set off the cornice and an avalanche. I put on crampons, grabbed my axe, and chose to stick to the climbers left to avoid the cornice and the wind loaded easterly slopes. The summit ridge of Black Peak Two fun and exciting minutes later I stood alone on the summit of Black Peak. The views were fantastic. Mount Earnslaw and Mount Tutoko dominated the skyline. I spotted Mount Alaska, Mount Larkins, Temple Peak, Turret Head, Somnus, Momus...endless!!! I didn't stay too long as the summit was very cold and windy. I made my way back across the ridge to the false summit and took off my crampons. I kept my axe handy and made my way over the snow covered portions of the mountain. I chose to glissade down the peak and was at the bottom in about 10 minutes. Happy days! My tracks in the perfect morning light I made quick work back to the hut, refueled, packed my things, and made the three hour romp back to the car park. It was a stunning afternoon and a stunning end to a perfect trip. Thank you to everyone who helped me get back here. I was totally buzzing. The trip ended in typical fashion - a cold plunge in Lake Wakatipu and a delicious smoked pork sandwich (and banana bread) from Mrs Woolly's General Store. All I can say is...happy days...