Date: April 20, 2024
Location: West Matukituki, Mount Aspiring National Park, New Zealand
Total Trip Distance (from Aspiring Hut): 12.37 mi / 19.9 km
Total Elevation Gain (from Aspiring Hut): 6,977 ft / 2,126 m
Trip Duration (from Aspiring Hut): 8 hours 35 minutes
Team: With Henry Frakes
Field Notes: The north 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. There are excellent campsites with reliable water sources along the ridge. The peak is climbed by scrambling up the north ridge.
Rating: II, 1
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.
For perspective, I had climbed Mount Liverpool a month and a half ago solo, without glacier gear. The reason is because it was a dry glacier in late summer where all the crevasses were exposed and without any need to cross snow bridges. On that trip, the first peak one ascends is Plunket Dome. I remembered it being very crevassed. Today, it looked like a snow field. If one had never seen it before, you wouldn't think crevasses were ever there.
It was obvious the climb was out of condition and Henry, being substantially more experienced than I in big mountain terrain, made the easy decision that we should turn around. We both knew it was the right decision.
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 that moment I doubted our decision out of insecurity, then came back to reality. It was time to have a laugh and go home.
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 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 learn a substantial amount from and hope to continue to go on trips with.
Happy days...
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