A mixed group of Wellington Alpine Club members and one self-described “tramper” embarked on a three-day expedition to Mt Franklin (2,340m) in Nelson Lakes National Park, 4–6 October 2002.
The group travelled via water taxi up Lake Rotoroa on a perfect morning — “you could count the clouds on one finger” — which the narrator took as an ominous sign of deteriorating weather to come. They hiked through the Sabine Valley through beech forest, arriving at Blue Lake Hut, where some participants arrived exhausted.
The following morning the party crossed the river barefoot to keep their boots dry, then navigated a snow basin toward Mt Franklin. Crampons and helmets were donned as the terrain became increasingly technical. The narrator borrowed a bike helmet, wearing it alongside the Geophysicist in similar headgear. Steep icy sections required ice axes and front-pointing.
Near the summit ridge, the twenty-two-year-old trainee alpine guide accidentally triggered a cornice collapse — “A rushing, whooshing sound broke the silence of the mountains” — sending several tonnes of ice into the East Sabine. He remained calm, noting he had studied cornice safety. The party safely reached the summit and descended.
The following morning three members — including the narrator — joined the Magazine Editor, Cow Milker, and Twenty-Two Year-Old for a crossing of Moss Pass to the D’Urville Valley, completing the traverse in ten and a quarter hours.
They arrived at D’Urville jetty before their companions, waiting and drinking cups of tea and eating Cow Milker’s Chit-Chats, reflecting on the shared experience. The account closes on the blurred line between trampers and alpinists, and the camaraderie that comes from a shared challenge in the mountains.
