Arthur’s Pass and Avalanche Peak

I get my tooth fixed by a nice lady dentist from Manchester and then drive out of Christchurch heading west to Arthur’s Pass, where a road and railway pass through the Southern Alps from east to west. The dramatic landscape is formed by active tectonic plate uplift, erosion and glaciation.

Creating a coach road through the pass was a priority after the discovery of gold on the west coast. The first 50 kilometres or so of the drive is across a wide open plain of farmland, passing through a couple of one-street small towns. The harvest is over and straw bales squat in the cut fields in container-sized stacks. The mountains loom ahead of me and take on increasing size and definition as I approach.  Then the road starts to climb, swinging around the foothills and then travelling along the wide valley floor with mountains on both sides and crossing wide, gravel-strewn river beds.

After 2 and a half hours’ driving I reach Arthur’s Pass Village, which originated as a workers’ camp during the construction of the railway tunnel. The village sits at about 730m above sea level and consists of the trans-alpine railway station, a Department of Conservation visitor centre, a couple of cafes and the old workers’ cottages, which are now holiday homes. The village itself is not particularly charming and heavy lorries with trailers pass through, travelling at high speed between the coasts.

Arthur’s Pass Village

Old Tunnellers’ Cottages 

  

I park Josephine in the DOC camp ground just next to the railway line, which feels a bit like camping in a railway siding. During the day a couple of tourist trains pass through and the sounds of hammering and welding can be heard from the workmen’s shed. In the dark of the early morning a goods train trundles in and out.

The warden reminded us to be careful with our possessions and definitely not to feed the Keas. They are a type of parrot found only in the mountains of the southern islands. They live in holes in the rocks within beech forests, but they forage far and wide in the mountains and valley. They are extraordinarily intelligent, inquisitive and resourceful and they ‘hunt’ in packs and cause nuisance and damage. They have been known to take the rubbers out of windscreens and remove windscreen wipers. Although they are not nocturnal, they will forage for food whenever they are hungry and they know that night time is when they are least likely to be caught doing their nefarious deeds. The night before I arrived in Arthur’s Pass Village, a camper had his glasses stolen by a kea from inside his tent, while he slept. The glasses were in a tent pocket and the bird pecked through the material from the outside. In the evening a couple of keas swoop low over the site. They are surprisingly big – about the size of a seagull. That night I hear something on my roof, but not as bad as the tap dancing seagulls at the caravan and no damage is done.

In the evening I take a short walk to see a nearby waterfall, which cascades down from a glacial hanging valley. The last rays of the sun catch the spray at the bottom of the falls and make a rainbow.

Waterfall

The next morning the sun is still shining and the sky is clear, which is good news as I am planning to do a day walk to the top of the nearest mountain, Avalanche Peak, a 7 hour walk with an ascent of 1100m. But the sun hasn’t yet found its way down into the bottom of the valley and there is ice on the outside of Josephine’s windscreen. I dress in 3 layers, plus hat and gloves and set off up the steep path. After about half an hour, I and the sun are both high enough to meet and instantly the temperature rises by a good 10 degrees. The hat, gloves and outer layers come off and are stored in my rucksack and are not needed again today. The walk is described as steep, but I think that is an understatement and should say, ‘occasionally vertical’. I am confronted with boulders and roots which demand both hands and feet and sometimes almost sheer rock faces, which take a bit of planning and a lot of heave-ho to negotiate. I am reminded of the recurring chant from th children's story, 'Going on a Bear Hunt', but I need my own adapted version, 'I can't go through it, I can't go round it, I have to go up it'. I am alternately grateful for my walking poles and curse them for getting in the way when I need my hands to climb,

Steep 'Walk'!

After an hour and a half I clear the bush line and the views open up down to the valley in both directions.

Valley Views

The path now continues along an open ridge, marked with poles and with occasional steep drops on either side, which requires careful concentration. This is the point to turn back if the weather is bad, or the conditions windy and I can see why. Fortunately today the weather is perfectly clear and still.

Ridge Walk Ahead

At the end of the ridge there is a small cairn where I stop for a rest and I can look back and marvel at the views and the way I have come so far and contemplate the rest of the route ahead of me to the summit.

Looking Back along the Ridge

Then the path drops down to a saddle before climbing steeply again and I have reached the final approach to the summit. Above me the route markers are wedged into a jumble of huge boulders which have to be climbed.

Rocky Route to the summit

After tackling the boulders there is a particularly narrow and precipitous shale ledge and then I have arrived at the small mountain top.

Looking back along the Shale Ledge to the Summit  

From the summit there are 360 views, including a view of a small glacier. I feel exhilarated and proud of my achievement. It has been the hardest walk I have done – much more of a climb than a walk.

Me on Avalanche Peak

I share the summit with a few other trampers, including these 3 characters, who are twins and a friend on holiday from Australia. We take pictures of each other, chat about the climb, other walks and generally enjoy and soak up the view.

Fellow Trampers at the Summit

The 3 old boys trott off nimbly ahead of me for the descent and I don't expect to catch them up. The climb back down is by a different, but equally steep route and I find this harder than the ascent. I take it very slowly to be sure of my footing and occasionally it is a none-too-graceful slide-on-the-butt technique. It takes me almost as long to get down, as to climb up and at some points I stop enjoying it.

Looking back up the Descent Route

By the time I am back in the village my knees and toes can feel the strain and even my wrists ache from leaning heavily on my poles, but I feel like a real mountain climber.