Date: October 17, 2024
Location: Main Divide Range, Ōhau Landsbrough, Mount Aspiring National Park, Otago, New Zealand
Total Trip Distance: 12.19 mi / 19.61 km
Total Elevation Gain: 7,152 ft / 2,180 meters
Trip Duration: 15 hours 30 mins
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.
Rating: II, 2+
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.
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.
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.
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.
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...
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