This text was read by OCR from a scanned newsletter and has not been proofread yet, so expect odd characters and mistakes.
by Tony Gazley The first time I tried to climb Te ao Whekere was a couple of winters ago. I had camped the first night lower down than I had intended because the deep snow was such slow going. The next day I started early hoping that conditions would improve. They didn't. After about an hour of struggling through snow that just got deeper and deeper I could look back down on my tent and guess that I had climbed about 100 m. There was still over 1,200 m to go to the summit so it would have been a very long day. I turned around and went down. The following summer I went back with a daypack and running shoes and made the top easily. There was no snow this time but instead lots of wind and rain, and there was no view. So I would have to go back yet again for that. And this time ! would do it in style.
In early August we arrived in Kaikoura with dark clouds covering the mountains but with the promise of a fine day to come. There was no hurry to get started and plenty of time for dining and coffees, then a comfortable night in town. The next day dawned calm and clear and the mountains gleamed in the sun with their covering of new snow. At 10 o’clock I loaded my gear and we were away. Fifteen minutes later I was standing alone at 2,200 mon the ridge to Te ao Whekere with the only sound the distant thumping of the chopper heading back to Kaikoura far below. Yes, perhaps I had cheated. But why not once in a while? And after all, this trip was supposed to be in the best possible style.
The final 400 m to the summit took me over two hours through snow that varied between deep powder, crust and ice. But the weather was perfect — the only clouds were far out to sea and there was just a gentle breeze. From the top the view was stunningly beautiful. Tapuae-O-Uenuku and Mt Alarm to the west, snowy mountains forever to the south, the distant hills of Wellington just visible to the north, and far below to the east was the sparkling ocean and the Kaikoura Peninsular. 1 stayed for longer than I should taking in the view, but at the same time I was slightly nervous about getting back down. I had carried my skis for the next stylish part of the trip, but the snow conditions were clearly difficult and I wondered just how stylish the descent would actually turn out to be.
Now it was time to leave. A easy section of ridge from the top then the first couple of tentative turns down the steepening slope. So far so gaod — nice compacted powder on the north side of the ridge and icy snow on the south. Exciting fast skiing now and I was soon back to where I had been dropped off by the chopper. The ridge turned sharply here and became steeper. The wind-blown powder slope to the north looked inviting but it was a steep lee slope and I didn’t feel happy about going that way, especially as there was slab avalanche debris clearly visible under the covering of new snow in the valley far below. So I kept to the scratchy snow on the south side. But it soon steepened further and the increasing drop to the valley below worried me. So I crossed back over onto the soft snow but didn't stray too far from the crest of the ridge.
Then another long relatively flat wide winding ridge with nice snow and fast easy skiing that seemed to go on forever. Turning first on the fast icy snow where the ridge was flatter then heading over the other side into the powder where it was steeper. This was fun, but I made myself stop now and then to look at the wonderful ever-changing scene around me.
Eventually I arrived at the final ridge junction where I knew the steepest section would be. It was even steeper than I remembered, very icy now that it was in the shade and the shutes between the rocks were narrow. And there was a very long slide to the cliffs below. I nearly decided to ski the least nasty looking gully but then decided against the idea and took skis off again, put on crampons and started down. This was slow going and needed extra care on front points and with just two ski poles barely scratching the surface. It took me quite a long time and I was glad to finally get to the top of the long scree that dropped through the scrub and bush to the river below. There was a ribbon of nice soft powder snow on a layer of ice down the full length of the sheltered edge of the scree and I thought about skiing it, but decided instead to glissade. This was fast and fun anyway, in spite of a high-speed crash that ended in a tangle of skis and poles. Then a change into running shoes for the final hour or so down the icy rocks of Jordan Stream to get back to the road and car before dark.
Stylish? Maybe. A fun day in the hills? Absolutely.