Date: November 24 - 25, 2023
Location: Ahuriri Valley, Ohau Landsborough, Huxley Range, New Zealand
Total Trip Distance: 23 mi | 37 km
Total Elevation Gain: 6,950 ft | 2,118 m
Trip Duration: 2 Days
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.
Rating: 2+, II
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.
Mount Barth stands at 2,456 meters and completley dominates Canyon Creek. The access is releatively 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 clearence, 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 oscilate between the river and the track. It took me four hours to reach the bivy rock and it did not dissapoint. 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 glaicer. 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 emmersed 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 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.
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 fourty 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.
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...
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