Aorangi Mount Cook looms large in the 1898 Pictorials,
appearing both in the massive 5/- design and also in the diminutive ½d value. Certainly
Mt Cook was topical, with major climbing expeditions in:
- 1882 (Irishman the Reverend Green and two Swiss climbers Kaufmann and Boss)
- 1890 (New Zealanders Mannering and Dixon)
- 1894 (New Zealanders Fyfe, Clarke and Graham).
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1894: Highest points reached by the three climbing expeditions up until 1894. McLintock, Alexander Hare, 1903-1968. McLintock, Alexander Hare, 1903-1969: [Sketch showing details of earliest ascents of Mount Cook, 1882-1894]. McLintock, Alexander Hare, 1903-1968: [Making New Zealand ; originals for illustrations / A H McLintock and Paul Pascoe]. - [1939?]. Ref: A-258-023. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand. natlib.govt.nz/records/23140773 (with cropping) |
The first two attempts were made from Linda Glacier to the north north east of the summit, but it was the third expedition, coming up Hooker Glacier then west then south along North Ridge, that was first to reach the summit of Aorangi Mount Cook. Accordingly it makes sense that the viewpoints for both stamp designs are from the Hooker Valley.
Meanwhile, it is the first expedition that is best documented via Green's engaging writing and especially his charming water-colours (see below). Accordingly, here we relay the travails and triumphs of that first expedition, as told by Green.
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2 March 1882: The Worst Bit On Mt Cook Green, William Spotswood (Rev), 1847-1919. [Green, William Spotswood] 1847-1919: The worst bit on Mt Cook [1882]. Ref: A-263-010. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand. natlib.govt.nz/records/23021971 (with cropping) |
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Terms
arête: A thin,
jagged ridge that separates – or once separated – two adjacent glaciers
bergschrund: a
crevasse, or crack, that forms at the head of a glacier, where the lower, moving
ice separates from the stationary ice above
cornice: a
buildup of snow that overhangs the edge of a mountain, ridge, or gully.
Cornices can form on the leeward side of mountains, where wind deposits snow on
the downwind side of an obstacle. The summit of Aorangi Mount Cook is atop a cornice.
couloir: a narrow
gully with a steep gradient in mountainous terrain
serac: a
pinnacle, sharp ridge, or block of ice among the crevasses of a glacier,
oftentimes as large as a house
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Unknown date but by 1882: Photo of William Spotswood Green Guy, Francis, 1820-1882. Guy, Francis, 1820-1882: Portrait of William Spotswood Green. Haast family: Collection. Ref: PA2-0790. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand. natlib.govt.nz/records/22717046 (with cropping) |
Green published three articles in the Alpine
Journal of London (see their elegant site; where the material is also scanned and published by Google and HathiTrust). Green also compiled and preserved his personal collection of water-colours, which is now held by
the Alexander Turnbull Library. In the following, we interleave both these sources, where this effort is simplified given that copyright
has expired long ago. Modern
topographic maps are also provided for context.
At the time, Green characterized his expedition as a
successful ascent, albeit with a caveat: “… and surmounting the cornice without
any difficulty at 6 P.M., stepped on to the topmost crest of Ao-Rangi … The
cornice rose in a gentle incline to our right, so we advanced along it, keeping
a good hold with our axes, as the wind blew fiercely from the N.W. … My men now
urged that, as we were fairly on the summit of the peak, we should lose no more
time, but commence the descent; however, I wished to satisfy myself about a
break which I saw ahead of us in the cornice, and finding on examination that
it presented no difficulty whatever, but that it would have taken some minutes
to reach the slope beyond, I said I was satisfied, so … making a rapid sketch,
we commenced our descent at 6.20. … The highest point of the ice-cap was about
30 ft. higher than where we turned, and my only reasons for not going on to it
were that there was no view; there was no difficulty in reaching it; the twenty
minutes we saved was an important addition to the hour's daylight which still
remained for us to find a place of safety for the night”.
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William Spotswood
Green (1847–1919) was variously a reverend, an
explorer and a marine scientist.
Green was born in
Cork, as the eldest and only son of six children of Charles Green, Justice of
the Peace and a merchant in the southern coastal town of Youghal. Despite having
an overriding interest in the sea, at Trinity College Dublin, Green took courses
in experimental physics, logic, mathematics, and physics and, after graduating
in 1871, took holy orders. Green was ordained deacon in the Church of
Ireland (1872) and priest (1873), and was appointed curate of Kenmare in 1874.
He moved to Carigaline in 1877, where he became rector in 1880. Both are southerly coastal towns.
Green married Belinda Beatty Butler in 1875. Like his parents before him, William and Belinda Green
had one son and five daughters too.
Green was able to
juggle his pastoral duties with adventurous trips around the world: the Orinoco
delta in Venezuela, the Swiss Alps, Aorangi Mount Cook, the Canadian Rocky
Mountains and the Selkirk glaciers; and afterwards Rockall Island (the last
three being in Canada). The Aorangi Mount Cook expedition was supported by the
Royal Irish Academy and Green authored a scientific account published in its
Transactions, then wrote a popular book, The High Alps of New Zealand
(1883), and presented a paper to the Royal Geographical Society (1884), which
elected him to fellowship in 1886.
From the mid-1880s
onwards, Green was increasingly able to spend time on his marine science passion,
and he retired from pastoral duties in 1890. At the same time, he was appointed
as one of the three inspectors of Irish fisheries, and he spent his subsequent
years towards Ireland’s fisheries where he “exerted a profound influence on the[ir]
development”.
Green led a
vigorous life as sailor and mountaineer, was noted for his sense of humour, and
excelled in personal relations with fishermen. This latter attribute was
invaluable as a source of insights about the industry. As we shall see, he was an
accomplished writer and watercolourist.
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1882: Photo of the trio of William Spotswood Green (seated), Ulrich Kaufmann and Emil Boss (unclear if before or after their ascent). Edmund Wheeler & Son (Firm). Photograph of Rev W S Green with his guides Emil Boss and Ulrich Kaufmann. Original photographic prints and postcards from the file print collection, Box 17. Ref: PAColl-7489-08. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand. natlib.govt.nz/records/23108344 (with cropping) |
Green’s trip to the Swiss Alps provided him with contacts in
the mountain village of Grindelwald. Two Swiss natives joined him on his New Zealand expedition: the indefatigable Ulrich
Kaufmann, who had a long and proud mountaineering record both before and
after the New Zealand expedition, and Emil Boss,
described as an hotelier from
the Grindelwald area, who continued with Kaufmann on a subsequent,
generally-successful expedition in the Himalayas.
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Map Of the Southern Alps, by Julian Haast, annotated with Green's reported route (blue line). However, his map annotation shows that his rail route to Albury entirely followed the River Opihi but Albury (the red dot) is connected by rail along the more southerly Tengawai River then road (red line). |
The Alpine Journal, August 1882.
A Journey in to the Glacier Regions of New Zealand, with an Ascent
of Mount Cook. By the Rev. W. S. Green.*
Part
I or Part I
*The portion of Mr. Green's
narrative published in the present number was read before the Royal Irish
Academy on June 26 [Ed: 1882]. In following numbers Mr. Green will give a
detailed account of his attacks on and successful ascent of Mount Cook, the
highest summit of the Southern Alps.
The whole of New Zealand consists of a line of upheaved
stratified rocks, modified in the northern portion by recent volcanic activity,
and in one or two other places showing traces of more ancient vulcanicity. The
axis of elevation runs from S.W. to N.E., and is cut across into the North
Island, South Island, and Stewart's Island, by Cook's and Foveaux Straits. In
the South Island the mountains attain to their greatest elevation, and for over
100 miles the Southern Alps, as they were named by Captain Cook, raise their
peaks far above the snow line; in no place, for the whole of that distance,
descending to a col or pass free from eternal snow and ice.
Immense glaciers fill the valleys, and the remains of still
more gigantic glaciers are everywhere to be met with. This chain, with its
continuation north and south, seems to have been upheaved in Jurassic times,
and though it has experienced many vicissitudes of upheaval and depression, it
has never since, according to Professor Hutton, been submerged. These mountains
are, then, of vastly greater antiquity than their European rivals, and their
long exposure to the frosts and storms of ages is abundantly evidenced by the
heaps of loose splintered stones to which all except the higher peaks have been
reduced.
The mountains lie close to the west coast, their western
flanks possess a humid climate (the rain-fall at Hokitika being measured at 118
inches) and are clothed with forest and impenetrable scrub. The western
glaciers in some places extend to within 705 feet of the sea, and the rivers
are short and swift. This low descent of the glaciers, and the mean line of
perpetual snow being at about 5,000 feet compared with 8,000 in Switzerland,
where also no glacier descends to within 4,000 feet of the sea, is particularly
instructive when we consider that these Southern Alps are at about the same
distance from the Equator as the Pyrenees and the city of Florence. To the east
of the mountains the land drops suddenly to a level of about 2,000 feet above
the sea, and then, by gentle slopes and immense flat bare plains, sinks
gradually to the coast. The continuity of the plains is broken by ridges of low
rounded hills, which, on close examination, often prove to be old moraine
accumulations; while many of the plains are the basins of ancient lakes, the
old shores being very sharply defined. In the southern and northern portions
of the South Island this arrangement of mountain and plain is considerably
modified by the splitting up and bifurcation of the main axis of elevation, but
flat plains, extending to the very foot of the highest peaks of the main chain,
are most characteristic of New Zealand, and distinguish it from other mountainous
countries, where ranges of foot-hills have to be ascended and upland valleys
traversed before the higher ranges can be reached. In the province of
Canterbury, where the mountains attain their greatest height in Mount Cook, or
Ao-Rangi as it is called in the Maori tongue, these features are most
distinctly observable; the Canterbury plains, followed by the Mackenzie plains,
extending up to the very ice, and so flat that Dr. Haast said he would
undertake to drive a buggy the whole way from Christ Church to the foot of the
Tasman glacier. We tried it with an express waggon and three horses, and nearly
accomplished it. The country was level enough, but the boulders, as we drew
near to the glacier, proved a little too much for a wheeled vehicle, and the waggon
ended its days by being capsized in the Tasman river.
These New Zealand rivers have been a source of much
difficulty to colonial development. They are so swift and erratic in their
courses that fords are dangerous and bridges difficult to construct. Once the
rivers leave the mountains there is nothing to keep them to one channel, as the
plains, being composed of loose boulders and sand, are easily eaten away by the
swift streams swelled in summer by the melting snow. A river-bed is therefore a
broad sheet of gravel, through which a number of small streams wander, and
change day by day, what was a main channel one day being quite a secondary
stream in the lapse of a week or so. Much time was often spent in crossing one
river, with the delays of searching for fords, &c.; but now that railways
run north and south the problem has been solved on the most important route by
bridges, some nearly a mile in length.
In the province of Otago rich woods extend right across the
island to the east coast, giving place in many districts, however, to immense
plains covered with tussock-grass and Spaniard or sword-grass, except where the
farmer has come and adorned the landscape with waving fields of wheat. Farther
north the great snowy chain seems to form a complete barrier to the moisture
and vegetation of the west; the plains, hills, and valleys, are all bare, as if
shaven, the short grass being of the one uniform brownish yellow hue. Clumps of
flax (Phormium tenax) and isolated cabbage trees (Cordyline australis)
make the desolation appear more desolate. The rainfall is but 25 inches; the
air is clear, bright, and exhilarating; and when we do penetrate into the
furthest recesses of the mountains, to the very brink of the glaciers, we at
last come to a rank vegetation, brought into existence by the rains condensed
by the cold ice-peaks.
Acclimatisation has produced wonderful results in New
Zealand. On the great grassy plains where the moa once stalked majestically,
the skylark is now the commonest of birds, the sparrow threatens to become a
plague as the rabbit has done, and English weeds seem determined to establish
themselves and attain to a fertility unexampled at home. Clouds of thistle-down
fill the air, and sorrel usurps the ground prepared for oats and wheat. Among
other interesting points brought out by this invasion of the vegetable kingdom,
one at least is worthy of special notice, the failure of red clover, while
white clover thrives amazingly. In the neighbouring island of Tasmania red
clover grows well, and it is now believed that till the humble bee is
introduced to fertilise the flowers, red clover will not propagate itself in
New Zealand.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On the 12th of last November [Ed: 1881] I [Ed: Green] sailed
from Plymouth for Melbourne in the Orient steamer 'Garonne,' having arranged
with Ulrich Kaufmann and Emil Boss, both of Grindelwaid [Ed: A Village in
central Switzerland], to follow me in the next ship [Ed: The Lusitania].
Unfortunately, small-pox broke out in my ship, and between a delay at the Cape,
and quarantine at Melbourne [Ed: This was well covered in the papers of the day,
and one passenger died, see for instance: 6
Jan, 7
Jan, 10
Jan, 11
Jan, 20
Jan, and 10
Feb], I was not able to reach New Zealand and join my men till February 5 [Ed:
Feb 5 was when New Zealand would have been first sighted
from the ss Te Anau. His port of arrival was Lyttelton
on Feb 9]. Immediately on landing I received a kind telegram from Dr.
Hector [Ed: Most likely influential New Zealand scientist and geologist James Hector, of Hector’s
dolphin fame, who lived in Wellington], and a letter from the Minister for
Railways, inclosing free passes on the New Zealand railways for myself and
guides during our stay in the colony [Ed: that ministry did not exist in New
Zealand until 1895; perhaps Green meant the Minister of Public Works,
Richard Oliver, who did hand out free
railway passes and who was in that role in 1880
and maintained some authority apparently beyond].
I lost no time in reaching Christ Church, where I spent an afternoon in Dr.
Haast's company, he being the great authority on the Southern Alps [Ed: Indeed,
the Alpine Journal article uses Julian Haast’s map of
the Southern Alps]; and next morning [Ed: 10 Feb] he started in the train for
the south. On arriving at Timaru we had a delay of three hours before the train
left by a branch line for Albury, and we occupied the time in purchasing
provisions for our mountain journey.
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Zoom-Crop of the Map Of the Southern Alps, by Julian Haast, so as to highlight the annotated route of Green’s Mt Cook expedition. However, Green's map annotation (reproduced here as a blue line) shows that his rail route to Albury followed the River Opihi but Albury (red dot) is connected by rail along the more southerly Tengawai River and road (red line). Note that Hochstetter Glacier is named, but not Ball Glacier nor Linda Glacier, and not the Blue Lake(s) either |
As we were assured that we could get sheep right up to the snows of Mount Cook, we took with us but a small supply of meat in tins. Flour, meal, bread, and biscuits, formed the bulk of our stores. On reaching Albury by rail we hired a waggon and horses, and on the evening of the next day [Ed: Feb 11] we got our first view of the great snowy range. The contrast between the brown flattened downs over which we drove, and the purple ice-seamed peaks, was most striking. Next morning [Ed: Feb 12] we were up betimes, as we did not know how long our journey might be, and our driver was unacquainted with the country beyond this point. Our road soon lost itself in the rolling downs, so we walked on in advance, pioneering the way; and thus before midday we reached the last swell overlooking the Taman river.
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12 February 1882: The Road To Mt Cook Green, William Spotswood (Rev), 1847-1919. [Green, William Spotswood] 1847-1919: The road to Mount Cook [1882]. Ref: A-263-009. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand. natlib.govt.nz/records/23076006 (with cropping) |
We had now to descend about 200 feet, and again came upon
the track leading up the river-bed. This river-bed of the Tasman, over two
miles wide, is a broad sheet of coarse gravel, through which the river meanders
in countless channels, between which are often most dangerous quicksands. We drove
along over marshy flats on which numerous seagulls had their nests (one of
these young seagulls we afterwards met high up on the glacier, winging its
flight over the snowy range to the west coast), then across river channels and
over wide tracts of gravel. Right before us, rising abruptly from the river-bed
in the point where the valley forked, was the great mass of Mount Cook, its icy
peak glittering like a pinnacle of frosted silver against the deep blue sky. On
either side the mountains rose from the flat valley with the same abruptness,
and the terminal face of the Hooker and Tasman glaciers closed in the end of
the two branches into which the valley divided to the right and left of Mount
Cook. This flat river-bed, with the mountains rising from it abruptly, and from
margins as sharply defined as the shores of a lake, is so typical of all the
mountain valleys we saw, that we may ask-- 'What is the cause of a feature so
distinctive?' I believe the low level to which the glaciers descend, and the
consequent short incline of the rivers, is a sufficient cause. The terminal
face of the Tasman glacier is, according to Dr. Haast, only 2,456 feet above
the sea, while the means of four observations, taken on as many days by myself,
make it 100 feet lower, and its river descends to the sea level by a fairly
uniform incline of about 25 feet to the mile. If the river had a greater depth
to descend before reaching the level country or the sea level, it would erode a
deep ravine-shaped bed, like those so common in the European Alps. High up on
the mountain slopes on the side of the valley opposite to where we travelled
were the most remarkable series of terrace formations I ever saw, their level
being quite 500 or 600 feet above the present river, and their edges sharply
defined. Dr. Haast considers that they form part of the margin of an ancient
lake which was dammed up by a glacier crossing the valley lower down during the
last great glacier period.
Accepting in part this interpretation of the phenomena,
several interesting questions follow which we shall try to answer. What river
or rivers fed this lake? Was it the Tasman? The present source of the Tasman,
being about 200 feet lower than the terraces, would be below the level of the
ancient lake, so it could not have been the feeder, unless the lake existed in
an inter-glacier period, when the climate was milder, the ice-cap smaller than
at present, and the source of the Tasman higher up the valley. Supposing it was
not filled by the Tasman river, it seems to follow that at the time of the
existence of the lake the great trunk glacier formed by the junction of the
Hooker and Tasman must have filled up the centre of the valley, and, extending
far away down to beyond the terraces, formed the dam which banked up the
drainage of the hills above the terraces, and thus formed a lake similar to the
Merjelen-See, in Switzerland. At the same time the main drainage of the great
glacier passed along at a lower level, and issued from its ice-cave miles lower
down, as the stream of the great Aletsch does at the present day.
That the Tasman glacier has been down the present valley at
almost its present level, past the foot of the slopes on which the terraces occur,
is proved by the existence of several little mounds of old terminal moraine
which the river has failed to remove.
The heat as we journeyed up the river-bed was intense, dark
masses of rain-clouds blocked up the Hooker valley, while the Tasman remained
clear except for a passing shower. Along the course of the river small
whirlwinds followed each other at regular intervals, making themselves visible
by the cloud of minute sand which they whirled upwards to a height of from 50
to 100 feet. The track we followed was only made by bullock-waggons on their
yearly journey for the wool of the two sheep-stations near the head of the
valley; and the ruts were so deep that more than once our waggon was nearly
upset, and only by dint of slashing, hauling, and shoving, did we surmount some
of the difficulties.
Mt Cook Station to Birch Hill (click on the placemarks for further context)
At two o'clock, after fording a broad stream coming down
from the right, [Ed: Surely Jollie River] we arrived at Mount Cook station, and were hospitably received
by the proprietor, Mr. Burnett, and his good lady, who busied herself to provide
us with a meal, while Mr. Burnett found one of his shepherds to pilot us over
the Tasman. It was now three o'clock, and late to proceed, but my whole object
was to push ahead as fast as possible, so, in spite of the protestations of the
driver, we started, to get past what we expected would prove the greatest
difficulty of our journey. For a short distance the horses were able to gallop
over a grassy flat, the shepherd riding out in front, and every now and then
startling a small flock of Paradise ducks. On reaching the shingle of the river
we had to go on foot, only getting into the waggon when a channel of ice-cold
water deeper than usual had to be crossed.
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12 February 1882: Tasman River Green, William Spotswood (Rev), 1847-1919. Green, William Spotswood, 1847-1919: Tasman River, N. Zealand, [13 February 1882]. Green, William Spotswood, 1847-1919: [Journey to New Zealand and the attempt on Mount Cook, November 1881 to March 1882, and] Dodging about Switzerland in 1879.. Ref: E-581-q-004. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand. natlib.govt.nz/records/23241598 (with cropping) |
After fording about a dozen such streams we reached the
larger channels; here our pilot rode up and down, testing the fords, and when
the main channel was reached we got into the waggon. The water surged and
gurgled over the wheels, the horses got frightened, and just as we were in
mid-stream a splinter bar gave way and the horses became hopelessly mixed. The
wheels were settling down, the river welling into the bottom of our trap, and
the weight of baggage alone kept it from floating. There was no time to lose;
so, fastening a rope to the fore carriage, we ran along the pole, and from the
neck of the leader dropped into the river, where it was no more than knee deep,
and then, hauling on the rope, we got the waggon into shallow water, and
spliced the broken harness. Cold blasts now swept down from the glaciers, and
heavy masses of clouds obscured the sky. As our clothes were well wet, we
splashed recklessly along through the river channels, and at dusk reached the
grassy slopes of the farther shore [Ed: i.e., after crossing the Tasman River
east-to-west]. Here our pilot turned back, and we saw him galloping along the
shingle flats till he became a tiny black speck, and then vanished in the
gloom. We were now close to Birch Hill sheep-station, the last human habitation
toward the glacier world [Ed: Just south of Mt Cook Village on the western side
of the Tasman River]. Its wool-shed (a building of galvanised iron) afforded us
shelter; and, after a cup of good tea, administered to us by Mr. Southerland,
the young shepherd in charge, and a change of clothes, we slept soundly on the
wool bales, only occasionally aroused by the growling of the thunder, and the
rattle of heavy rain on the iron roof.
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12 February 1882: Birch Hill Sheep Station Green, William Spotswood (Rev), 1847-1919. [Green, William Spotswood] 1847-1919: Birch Hill sheep station [1882]. Ref: A-263-012. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand. natlib.govt.nz/records/23067926 (with cropping) |
Birch Hill Sheep Station to First Camp
Next day, February 13, we packed our horses, and, assisted
by Mr. Southerland as guide, and two young gentlemen who had ridden up from
Timaru to see the glaciers, we got across the rapid torrent from the Hooker
glacier, and at 1 P.M. reached a patch of scrub about two miles from the face
of the Tasman glacier, and, unloading the horses, pitched camp [Ed: The first
camp]. We sent the horses back from here, with orders to return for us on March
7.
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Circa 13 February 1882: Camp near the Tasman Glacier [Ed: perceiving this as showing a river rather than a glacier, then this presumably shows the lower (first) camp where the two tents are out-of-frame to the left. In the foreground we see 2 climbers besides the camp-fire and another climber standing; then the Tasman River; and beyond we there is a line of fire for sheep mustering on the hills on the left, then a gap (Gorilla Stream?) then a line of mountains behind on the right (a spur of the Burnett Mountain range?). Green, William Spotswood (Rev), 1847-1919. [Green, William Spotswood] 1847-1919: Our camp near the Tasman Glacier; mustering sheep on opposite hills [1882]. Ref: A-263-011. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand. natlib.govt.nz/records/22752494 (with cropping) |
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Circa 13 February 1882: Lower (First) Camp, Tasman Valley Green, William Spotswood (Rev), 1847-1919. Green, William Spotswood, 1847-1919: Our lower camp, Tasman Valley. [February 1882]. Green, William Spotswood, 1847-1919: [Journey to New Zealand and the attempt on Mount Cook, November 1881 to March 1882, and] Dodging about Switzerland in 1879.. Ref: E-581-q-007. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand. natlib.govt.nz/records/22877283 (with cropping) |
February 14 was devoted to strengthening and doubling our tents against the weather, and throwing a bridge over the stream that flowed near our camp, and between us and the glacier.
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14 February 1882: Bridge Near Our Camp Green, William Spotswood (Rev), 1847-1919. Green, William Spotswood, 1847-1919: Bridge near our camp. [14 February 1882]. Green, William Spotswood, 1847-1919: [Journey to New Zealand and the attempt on Mount Cook, November 1881 to March 1882, and] Dodging about Switzerland in 1879.. Ref: E-581-q-005. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand. natlib.govt.nz/records/23217134 (with cropping) |
Early on the 15th we started from the camp, taking with us
some slight poles for observation on the motion of the glacier, my photographic
apparatus, our ice-axes, and provisions for the day. Crossing the bridge, an
hour's smart walking over grass-covered flats brought us to the terminal
moraine which rises up here in grassy knolls to a height of 200 feet, and
which, assuming a more recent appearance to the eastward, extends right across
the valley, a distance of about two miles in a straight line. Nowhere is ice
visible except near the farther shore where the river breaks forth. The
truncated form of this termination of the glacier shows, I think, that it
cannot be retreating very rapidly if it is retreating at all. As the absence of
any heaps of terminal moraine on the flat plains near to its face proves that
the river outlet must have changed many times along the present terminal face
to have so completely swept the valley of all outliers except one small heap
which has been protected by boulders of unusual dimensions. It may be
stationary, but from consideration of the appearance of the terminal face, and
from observations on the relations of the present lateral moraine to more
ancient ones to which I shall allude further on, I would conclude that the
glacier is at present advancing; or if it is not doing so at the present moment
it has done so since its last retreat, as there is good evidence to prove that
at a period not very remote the glacier was smaller than it now is.
We ascended the outer line of grass-covered moraine, and,
passing a little blue lake lying in a deep hollow in which we discovered
numerous small fish about four inches long, we ascended heaps of newer moraine
composed of immense loose angular boulders, and finding our progress over it
most fatiguing and slow, we turned off to the left in hopes that the lateral
moraine might prove more practicable, but finding it just as bad, and no level
ice being in sight, we descended to the hollow between the lateral moraine and
the mountain side. Here we were entangled in almost impenetrable scrub,
composed of Wild Irishman (Discaria toumatou), and sword-grass (Aciphylla
Colensoi), which cut us so cruelly that I quickly returned to the boulders,
and soon got far in advance of my companions, who tumbled about in the scrub.
Occasionally we got a more open bit for a change, but nowhere could we feel
ourselves safe from the chance of a broken leg or sprained ankle. After five
hours of this sort of thing we again surmounted the lateral moraine, and,
striking right across the glacier, in one hour reached the white ice. The cool
air of the ice was most refreshing after toiling over the heated boulders under
bright sunshine and sheltered from any wind. We walked briskly ahead until 2
o'clock, when we reached a point from which we had a splendid view of the great
cliffs of Mount Cook and the grand amphitheatre of peaks which swept round from
left to right. This view I consider quite equal, if not superior, to anything
in Switzerland, and the glacier beneath our feet had an area half again as
great as that of the great Aletsch, the largest glacier of the European Alps.
Tributary glaciers poured in with graceful curves from the mountain sides, and
long lines of moraine, from thirty distinct ice-streams which were in sight
from this point, brought their tale of boulders to add to the great rampart
which had given us such trouble to surmount. We scanned the great ice ridges of
Mount Cook with anxious eyes; all its approaches seemed most difficult; the
only point which was quite clear was that our present camp would not do, and
that, in spite of the roughness of the road, we must shift it up to where we
now were. As it was getting well on for 3 P.M. we decided we could at present
go no farther, so, selecting a mark on the hillsides, I set up a row of stakes
across the glacier [Ed: This would become the site of the fourth camp], and, having
secured a photograph, we started back for camp, which we reached at 8 P.M. On
our way we deposited our ice-axes, the stand of my camera, and some
photographic plates beneath a boulder, so as to have the less to carry on our
journey up the glacier.
View of Aorangi Mt Cook ("3" in large red placemark) from Tasman Glacier (star in small blue square)
February 15 was spent in selecting the necessaries for our
journey, and in cutting the flesh off the bones of the sheep, and making all
arrangements for an early start. Mr. Southerland who rode up to see how we got
on, kindly took a good-sized pack made up in our small tent, across the front
of his saddle, and, riding up to the moraine as far as his horse could go,
deposited it in some scrub, hung up a flag to mark the spot, and promised that
whenever he should see our fire burning again he would come up to see if we
wanted anything. At this lower camp the heat during the day was very great, the
temperature being often 82° in the shade; the air was clear, with barometer
ranging from 27.60 to 27.70.
A brisk breeze, occasionally blowing in sudden strong squalls
from S.W. or N.W., prevailed in the valley, while on the mountain ridges a
steady, fierce wind seemed to blow continuously from the W. The wood-hens or
wekas (Ocydromus australis) were a source of constant amusement; they
seemed to know no fear, and would come picking and examining every article in
our camp, and were always ready to bolt off with any small object left on the
ground. They cared little for the stones we threw at them, and all night they
kept up a constant whistling accompanied by a kind of grunting noise On the
stream hard by we had an inexhaustible supply of blue ducks (Hymenolaimus
malacorhynchus); there were never many to be seen at a time, but when we
shot three or four one day a couple of brace more would occupy the same part of
the stream next morning. They were not wild, so in order to save cartridges we
generally pelted stones to get them close together, and then tumbled two or
three in the one shot. Far more wild, though quite as numerous, were the
paradise ducks (Casarca variegata). These were splendid birds; in
habits, mode of flight, and note, resembling geese rather than ducks; and the
male, with his white head, kept such a good look-out that various stratagems
had to be adopted ere we secured one for the pot. There were a few mosquitos
and sandflies, but the large blowfly was the greatest source of annoyance. A
coat or a blanket could never be laid on the ground for half an hour with
impunity; even my mackintosh was considered a good receptacle for their eggs;
but we kept them from our cold mutton and ducks with a few yards of mosquito
net; and, after all, having your coat full of maggots does you no harm so long
as they do not, like the larval of moths, feed on the material.
[Ed: As well, Green dated a letter
on Feb 16 and it was published on Feb 23, so presumably someone such as Mr
Southland visited Green’s expedition at least once during this time]
We were astir at the dawn of February 16, and, as soon as we
had our packs ready and the tent secured against all wekas and other possible
invaders during our absences we started for the glacier. On reaching the little
red flag that marked our pack at the foot of the moraine we re-arranged our
loads, Kaufmann and Boss dividing all they had to carry into four loads, while
my swag consisted of my knapsack, a plaid, a mackintosh cape, a sack containing
my camera and plates, another sack full of cartridges, and the guns. It was
quite as much as I could manage over the rough ground. My men adopted the plan
of carrying one load each for an hour or so and then setting it down,
scrambling back again for the others, thus making the whole journey twice. In
this manner I arrived first at the camping-ground we had chosen near the shore
of a little blue lake, where the whole drainage of the valley that found its
way beneath the boulders bubbled forth to the surface; and I had the camp
pitched when my men arrived at dusk [Ed: Second camp].
First camp to Second camp
 |
Circa 17 February 1882: Second Camp Green, William Spotswood (Rev), 1847-1919. Green, William Spotswood, 1847-1919: 2nd camp [Tasman Valley. February 1882]. Green, William Spotswood, 1847-1919: [Journey to New Zealand and the attempt on Mount Cook, November 1881 to March 1882, and] Dodging about Switzerland in 1879.. Ref: E-581-q-008. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand. natlib.govt.nz/records/22875978 (with cropping) |
[Ed: Feb 17] The lake was embosomed in dense scrub which
here clothed the high moraine and the mountain sides. This scrub was composed
of dwarf pines, birch, or more correctly beech (Fagus), veronicas, sixty
species of which are indigenous to New Zealand; and shrubs of podocarpus,
coprosma, dracophyllum, &c. As we came along, we could not
resist eating the sweet red berries of Podocarpus nivalis, though at the
time we were not sure what ill effects might ensue. Of smaller plants, the fine
white Ranunculus Lyal ii was everywhere abundant; it goes by the name of
Mount Cook Lily among the colonists, and we found its large succulent leaves
most useful in our hats as a protection against the fierce rays of the mid-day
sun. A little white violet became common from this camp upwards, and ferns
nestled under the shade of every damp rock. Keas, or Mount Cook parrots, now
made their appearance and came screaming close to the tent. Kaufmann shot a
couple, and soon had them picked and in the soup-kettle, while Boss added a
brace of ducks to the larder. Parrot soup proved so good that from this day
forward we were never without some in the kettle. Since sheep were introduced
into New Zealand, these parrots have acquired a taste for kidney fat, and,
perching on the poor unresisting animals, eat through their flesh in order to
obtain this delicacy. Further up the glacier these birds were so tame that I
knocked one on the head with a stick which I had in my hand. As night closed
in, heavy drops of rain fell, and soon it began to blow a gale; but, ensconced
in our felt sleeping-bags, we at first defied the elements, and slept well.
After midnight [Ed: Feb 18], however, the weather became so terrible that sleep
was impossible. The tent could not blow away, as it was made on Mr. Whymper's plan, the
sides and floor being all in one, but I felt sure it must soon split; it
fluttered and banged, and the torrents of rain never ceased lashing its sides.
Thunder crashed round the mountain peaks, and when morning came there was no
improvement. So far the tent resisted the rain, but now Kaufmann's sleeping-bag
was getting wet from soaking the damp through the tent walls; then a pool
formed in our opossum rug, and it was no longer possible to keep dry. There was
no chance of lighting a fire, so we sat in the tent shivering until mid-day;
and at three o'clock, seeing that it promised for a similar night and all our
things were wet, we determined to secure the tent and provisions as best we
could, and retreat to our lower camp. The wet scrub drenched us as we pushed
our way through it, but on reaching our camp we were soon into dry clothes. The
weather cleared for an hour or so about sunset, allowing us to get our supper
in comfort; but as it began to blow and rain as night came on, we made
ourselves snug in our hammocks, and slept in spite of the banging of the tent walls
and beating of the rain. As next day was stormy, wet, and cold [Ed: Feb 19], we
remained in bed till noon, the highest temperature being only 42°. After our
mid-day meal we set off in our waterproofs to try and reach the Hooker glacier;
but, finding we should have to mount the steep slopes of the spur of Mount Cook
through dripping ferns, we relinquished the attempt, and amused ourselves by
running after and catching some young wekas. The old birds came from all points
to remonstrate, and, forming a wide circle, squealed and grunted forth their
indignation; and as we returned their young ones unharmed, they were, I am
sure, quite satisfied that their interference had a most important influence
over our actions.
 |
|
Second camp to Third camp
It cleared a little about sunset, showing the mountains
glistening with fresh-fallen snow, and then settled in again for a bad night,
the wind still blowing a gale from the N.W. At midnight we were aroused by the
most awful torrent of rain [Ed: Feb 20]; there seemed to be no wind with it,
and in the morning when we awoke in bright sunshine, and looked out of the
tent, we found the whole landscape, down almost to the foot of the glacier and
surrounding hills covered with a robe of freshly fallen snow. These lower hills
are, of course, covered with snow in winter, but it seldom lies on the flat
valley for more than 24 hours at a time. We were much surprised at learning
this from the shepherds, as for a long distance the valley may he considered to
be at the same level as the termination of the glacier; and land in such
proximity in Switzerland would be covered all through the winter with many feet
of snow. The wind was now from the S., the sky blue, and, as the snow was
rapidly melting, I determined to start by myself for the camp at the Blue Lake,
spread all the things to dry, and leave the men to follow when they had our
lower camp dried and secure. I took the gun with me in hopes of meeting some
ducks, but, finding none, I deposited it and some cartridges at the bridge for
Boss to bring along, and went on up the glacier moraine. On reaching the little
lake in the moraine I took a swim in the deep clear water, and then scrambled
on to the camp. Everything was in statu quo, except that the wekas had
been making free with our ducks. The snow was nearly gone, so I collected
plenty of dry wood from an old avalanche slope, and, lighting a big fire, soon
had the sleeping-bags steaming away, and as the sun shone down with great power
I had everything dry when the men arrived in the evening. Boss proved the best sportsman;
he had shot no less than eight fine ducks, and with those already in our
larder, and a few parrots, we were now well provisioned. It rained again a
little at night, but next day [Ed: Feb 21] was fine enough to continue our
journey, which we did as usual, my men going over all the ground twice, and
while they went back for the last stage I pitched the tent and cut twigs for
our bedding; coprosma and veronica scrub being still in abundance
[Ed: The third camp].
 |
21 February 1882: Third Camp Green, William Spotswood (Rev), 1847-1919. Green, William Spotswood, 1847-1919: 3rd camp, [Tasman Valley. February 1882]. Green, William Spotswood, 1847-1919: [Journey to New Zealand and the attempt on Mount Cook, November 1881 to March 1882, and] Dodging about Switzerland in 1879.. Ref: E-581-q-009. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand. natlib.govt.nz/records/23141295 (with cropping) |
Third camp to Fourth camp
I shall not go into all the details of our troublesome
journey; suffice it to say that our fourth camp was pitched on the moraine
abreast of the stakes I had erected on the glacier. On visiting them, however,
I found them all lying prostrate, and blown to some distance from the holes in
which they had stood. The sunshine and storm of the past seven days had so
altered the surface of the glacier that we had some little difficulty in
finding the holes we had made. When we set the sticks up again and I ran my eye
along them to the mountain's side, I found that they were still in an almost
perfect right line, showing that in that time no motion of any importance had
taken place. This was, however, what might have been expected owing to the
flatness of the lower portion of the glacier, the incline being about one
hundred feet to the mile. We returned to camp over piles of angular rocks,
alternating with gravel heaps, coming now and then upon a yawning chasm with
sides of dirty ice, and inclosing deep blue pools of ice-water. The new moraine
near the margin of the glacier overtopped a rampart of ancient moraine, showing
that the glacier, at a period not very remote, was smaller than it is at
present. Not only there, but on various other parts of our route, I made
similar observations. The old moraine was consolidated by the disintegration of
the rocks composing it, and afforded soil for numerous tufts of sword-grass and
other smaller plants. Here, for the first time, we found the New Zealand
edelweiss (Gnaplialium grandiceps), and my men seemed to take fresh
heart after all their fagging work, when we had our hatbands adorned with the
familiar little felt-like flowers.
Fourth camp to Fifth camp
After a good night's rest [Ed: At the fourth “stake” camp;
now Feb 22] on a bed of Veronica Hectori, we continued our swagging, and
on the next afternoon, February 23, we reached our fifth and final camp. We
were now 3,750 feet above the sea [Ed: 1143m, consistent with being at/slightly
above the foot of the Ball Glacier at 1100m today], having gained by a week's
labour only 1,450 feet of actual elevation, and Mount Cook still towered 9,000
feet above us. Our advance was here checked by the ice of the much broken Ball
glacier coming down from our left, and though we carried our swags on to its
surface in hopes of camping farther up, the absence of scrub on the further
spurs, of sufficient size to promise a supply of firewood, made us retrace our
steps and pitch our tents on a gravel slope close to the mountain side, in the
angle formed by the Ball and Tasman glaciers. Here a glacier stream provided us
with water, and the vicinity of our camp was strewn with dead wood brought down
by landslips and avalanches from the steep slopes above. Whilst looking for a
suitable nook for our tent, Boss came upon a little square patch of dwarf
gnarled coprosma exactly the square of our tent. It grew by itself on
the gravel in a snug corner, and seemed as if prepared so specially for our use
that we did not wish to decline the hospitality of nature. Filling up,
therefore, the centre of the square with some cut bushes we pitched our tent on
it. Never was a bed more comfortable; its spring was perfect, we never sank to
within less than 5 or 6 inches of the ground; and so long as the wekas
contented themselves with squeaking and grunting, and not pecking upwards, we
did not wish to deny them the comfortable lodging beneath us, which they seemed
to appreciate. From this camp [Ed: Feb 24] we made a long day's excursion up
the main glacier and completed our reconnaissance of the ridges of Mount Cook;
and from a point on the medial moraine I took a circle of angles with a view to
making my map, and secured a couple of negatives of the Hochstetter ice-fall.
But the light was so brilliant, there not being a cloud in the sky, that over
exposure of my plates was almost unavoidable. [Ed: This excursion is not marked
on “Rev W. S. Green’s Route” below]
On this day [Ed: Still Feb 22] we spent some time sounding
crevasses; into one moulin I lowered a stone with 320 feet of cord, but, as the
cord was found to have tangled, the observation could not be relied on. We then
timed the fall of large stones, and on several occasions measured five seconds
by my watch before the first crash was heard, giving a depth of 300 feet; and
then, as a series of bangs followed for as long again, these crevasses must at
the lowest computation be 500 feet deep. The glacier which I have named the
Ball glacier, after John Ball,
M.R.I.A., one of the founders of Alpine exploration, close to our camp, had
some points of special interest. Flowing from the S.W. it met the current of
the main glacier corning from the N., and, failing to stem it, was pushed aside
down the valley, its lower portion thus making an acute angle with its former
course. As our tent was in this angle, I had abundant opportunity for watching
its great slabs of ice, which stood up high above the moraine, and by
observation found the ice moved past at the rate of one foot per day. At one
point the pressure had been sufficient to push down the moraine as a great wall
might have been tumbled over; while immediately in front of our camp the
glacier was building up the rampart by a constant dropping of angular stones.
Even in the stillness of night these sounds evidenced its icy life; and one
night we heard a bang as of a cannon-shot when some new crevasses sprang into
existence. The blocks of the moraine were all either sandstone or slate of the
newer palazozoic formation, of which Mount Cook and all this range is composed,
with occasional fragments of quartz and blocks of a kind of volcanic breccia, which,
according to Professor Valentine Ball, who kindly examined a piece which I
brought home, consists of fragments of pyroxene and felspar, the latter being
much decomposed. I failed to find this rock in situ, though it must occur
somewhere on the west side of the glacier.
 |
| General map of the eastern side of Mt Cook showing the route of Rev W. S. Green’s route as three attempts. The “CAMP” at bottom left is their fifth camp. Public Domain, Google-digitized. |
The Alpine Journal, November 1882.
A Journey into the Glacier Regions of New Zealand, with an
Ascent of Mount Cook. By the Rev. W. S. Green.
Mount Cook, as viewed from the centre of the Tasman Glacier,
presents a grand array of inaccessible ice precipices, and but three possible
lines of attack from which the mountaineer can make his selection. After our
first inspection all these presented such difficulties that we entertained the
thought of abandoning any attempt from its eastern side and of seeking an
easier route from the Hooker Glacier. We had had no opportunity of examining
for ourselves the southwestern side of the mountain, of which, however, I had a
photograph; and, as Dr. Haast's opinion was strongly against such a route, and
its inspection would certainly involve a loss of two or three days, we
determined to make our attempt from the side of the Tasman Glacier.
Of the three possible lines of attack above referred to the
first which claimed our attention was the long southern arête, but, consisting
as it did of abrupt notches, one of which looked quite hopeless, we at first
abandoned the idea of attempting this route. We next inspected the eastern arête
running up from the central spur, but it looked most unpromising, and seemed to
end in the face of a precipice near the lower southern summit of Mount Cook.
The northern arête, or that which seemed to join Mount Cook
with Mount Tasman, was the last to be considered; its upper portion looked as
easy as we could desire, but how to get at its base was the question, as the
Hochstetter Glacier, with one of the grandest ice falls imaginable, seemed to
fill the whole space between Mount Cook and Mount Tasman with a chaos of
seracs.
 |
Circa 3 March 1882: Hochstetter Icefall Mount Cook To Left New Zealand Alps Green, William Spotswood (Rev), 1847-1919. Green, William Spotswood, 1847-1919: Hochstetter Icefall. Mount Cook to left. N. Zealand Alps. [March 1882].. Ref: C-133-044. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand. natlib.govt.nz/records/22722618 (with cropping) |
We detected what might be a plateau above its lower fall. If
this existed it might be free from crevasses, and afford us a passage to the
foot of the arête; but as the foot of the arête itself, so far as we could see,
consisted of vertical slabs of bare rock overhung by ice cornices, from which
we saw avalanches falling, a new difficulty here presented itself. Spying
through our binoculars till every crag became familiar to our eyes, I became
conscious of a certain want of continuity in the ridge, and Kaufmann expressed
his belief that the arête was really double, and that if it were, a glacier
would fill the hollow between its two spurs, which might prove a practicable
route to the upper snows. Our decision was therefore that, supposing we could
reach the upper plateau of the Hochstetter Glacier, these northern arêtes
looked the most hopeful, but, considering the uncertainty of being able to
overcome the first difficulty, and as the inaccessibility of the southern arête,
which was the one nearest to our camp, was not a proved fact, we decided to
give it a trial, and, failing by that route, to try the cliffs of the central
spur, and by ascending them try to cross the upper portion of the Hochstetter
Glacier to the north-eastern arête. Should that prove impossible we would be at
all events in a position to attempt the eastern arête.
If we failed in all these directions nothing remained but to
try and overcome the difficulties presented by the Hochstetter Glacier, by
ascending the spur which came down from the direction of Mount Tasman on the
northern side of the glacier.
First attempt
On February 25, the morning after we arrived at the
conclusion that our first attempt was to be by the southern ridge, we were
astir at 5 A.M., and as we sat amongst the boulders discussing a hearty
breakfast the sun just touched the peaks of Mount de la Beche with his rosy
beams. The glacier lay still in cold grey gloom, the music of its streams
hushed, and the bed of the brook which chattered over the boulders near our
camp every afternoon quite dry, awaiting the warm sunshine to rouse its springs
from their icy sleep. A pair of keas sailed about the crags, uttering wild
screams. The shrill whistle of a woodhen answering its mate came from the scrub
on the mountain side. Daylight was quickly creeping down the mountains, and as
we wished to be out of the warm valley before the sun rose we shouldered our
packs, consisting of rugs for a bivouac and provisions for three days, and
filed out of camp at 6 o'clock.
For about a thousand feet we ascended steep slopes covered
with veronica scrub and patches of mountain lilies, the Veronica macrantha,
with its large white blossoms, being particularly beautiful; and as we reached
the top of the ridge and looked down the steep cliffs on to the Ball Glacier
and across to the great ice falls and snow-clad precipices of Mount Cook, bathed
in the brightness of the morning sun, we thought we had never seen a grander
exhibition of mountain glory.
We climbed upwards, with the Ball Glacier on our right, the
still morning air rent every now and Rein by the crash of an avalanche from the
opposite cliffs. Sometimes we followed the arête, and occasionally took to easy
snow slopes. At 5,000 feet we reached what appeared to be about the line of
perpetual snow, and from all I have seen since I believe I am right in saying
that the mean snow line in the Southern Alps is 3,000 feet lower than in
Switzerland, and conditions are met with at 7,000 feet which are characteristic
of the 10,000 feet line in our Northern Alps.
The Alpine plants collected this day were most interesting.
The familiar aspect of the gnaphaliums and of a yellow ranunculus
could not fail to make it difficult to realise that the whole diameter of the
earth and the tropical girdle of nonalpine conditions cut us off from direct
connection with those northern regions where almost the very same little
alpines abound. Some unfamiliar forms were also present; one which turned out
to be a species of the genus Haastia, new to science, we discovered at
an elevation of 6,500 feet. At this same level we met with our last grasshopper
and last dark brown butterfly. Beyond this all life ceased, except so far as it
was represented by an ubiquitous little lichen. One point which seemed
characteristic of the Alpine vegetation when compared with that of our northern
lands was that with the exception of the yellow ranunculus all the flowers were
white.
Mounting these neve slopes and rock ridges, we at length
came to the last patch of yellow sandstone rocks, beyond which the upper
plateau of the Ball Glacier curved gently upward to a saddle in the main arête.
 |
25 February 1882: Mt Cook From South Ridge Green, William Spotswood (Rev), 1847-1919. Green, William Spotswood, 1847-1919: Mt Cook from S. ridge. [February 1882]. Green, William Spotswood, 1847-1919: [Journey to New Zealand and the attempt on Mount Cook, November 1881 to March 1882, and] Dodging about Switzerland in 1879.. Ref: E-581-q-011. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand. natlib.govt.nz/records/23227354 (with cropping) |
 |
Circa 25 February 1882: Great Tasman Glacier From The Slopes Of Mount Cook Green, William Spotswood (Rev), 1847-1919. Green, William Spotswood, 1847-1919: Great Tasman Glacier from the slopes of Mount Cook, N. Zealand by Rev. W. S. Green. Feb 1882.. Ref: C-133-045. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand. natlib.govt.nz/records/22350854 (with cropping) |
 |
Circa 25? or (per ATL) 28 February 1882: Down The Valley Green, William Spotswood (Rev), 1847-1919. Green, William Spotswood, 1847-1919: Down the valley. [28 February 1882]. Green, William Spotswood, 1847-1919: [Journey to New Zealand and the attempt on Mount Cook, November 1881 to March 1882, and] Dodging about Switzerland in 1879.. Ref: E-581-q-015. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand. hnatlib.govt.nz/records/23246591 (with cropping) |
Topography from saddle (top right) to Mt Sefton and Muller Glacier (bottom left)
Well do I remember the aspect of the Schreckhorn, when,
ascending the Finsteraarhorn from the Viescher Glacier, its grand peak first
becomes visible. Such a view now burst upon us. Deep down beneath lay the
Hooker Glacier, and beyond it the grand ice-seamed crags of Mount Sefton
towered skywards. Further off lay the mer-de-glace of the Muller Glacier, with
its lower moraine-covered termination lost in the blue depths of the valley at
our feet. It was a glorious day, scarcely a breath of air stirring; no cloud
visible in the whole vault of blue; ranges upon ranges of peaks in all
directions and of every form, from the ice-capped dome to the splintered
aiguille. The ridge connecting Mount Sefton with Mount Stokes alone prevented
our seeing the western sea. Such a scene on such a day was our first really
alpine experience in New Zealand.
Immediately on our right the saddle contracted to a narrow
snow arête, along which we advanced cautiously to the base of the first rock
tooth, which proved to be a tottering mass of splintered slate. We climbed the
first crag with great caution, there being nothing to lay hold of but slates,
which gave way with the least pressure. The ridge joining this spike with the
next, which was about 20 feet higher, and so loose that I believe we could have
shoved it over in either direction, trembled beneath our feet as if undecided whether
to tumble towards a big crevasse in the glacier to the right or go thundering
down into the Hooker valley. Climbing further was out of the question. To
return to the snow and cut round the base of these rocks above the large
bergschrund would have been possible, but we would have only reached another
rock tooth of much more formidable dimensions, and which we could not have
turned, as it was flanked by precipices. Its face looked quite inaccessible,
and as it was only one of a dozen which were in sight we gave up the route as
impracticable and returned to our knapsacks.
There was now no object in staying up here for the night,
so, shouldering our swags, we descended to the camp, arriving there shortly
after dark.
On our way down we examined the cliffs on the opposite side
of the Ball Glacier, as on our former reconnaissance we had failed to discover
any line by which they might be scaled. We were now able to select a
snow-filled couloir, and though it was swept by avalanches we hoped we might
find a way up by its side.
The object of ascending these cliffs was, as the reader will
probably remember, to reach the plateau over the Hochstetter Glacier, and by it
the northern arête.
Our attempt and failure, and the doubtfulness of immediate
success by another route, taught us that we should make provision for a long
delay. Accordingly, on the 26th Kaufmann and Boss rose early, and, taking the
gun, descended to the lower camp, returning at night with flour, meal, a few
ducks, and some tins of meat. We buried the ducks in the ice with our other
fresh provisions, and supped that evening off fried bacon, boiled parrots, and
porridge.
 |
Circa 26 February 1882: Our Kitchen, Tasman Valley Green, William Spotswood (Rev), 1847-1919. Green, William Spotswood, 1847-1919: Our kitchen [Tasman Valley. February 1882]. Green, William Spotswood, 1847-1919: [Journey to New Zealand and the attempt on Mount Cook, November 1881 to March 1882, and] Dodging about Switzerland in 1879.. Ref: E-581-q-010. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand. natlib.govt.nz/records/22707687 (with cropping) |
Second attempt
View Larger Topographic Map
View Larger Topographic Map
On the 27th we started from our camp at the dawn of day, and
after some delay in cutting steps, we gained the surface of the Ball Glacier,
crossed it towards the couloir, and, ascending a great talus of mountain
debris, commenced our climb. At first the rocks were easy, giving good hand
grips, then came steep streams of stones, which we crossed to the right, hoping
to get round the spurs towards the Hochstetter Glacier, but, finding this
impossible, we halted on a projecting crag to partake of some refreshment and
to consider our next move. It was splendid weather, and the endless booming and
crashing of avalanches testified to the warmth of the sunshine which all the
forenoon struck with full power on these eastern precipices. While here we were
startled by an immense rock avalanche. Not far from us was a couloir, down
which there seemed to be a perpetual fusilade of stones from the cliffs above.
A crash rang through the air, and, looking towards the gully, we saw it
enveloped in a cloud of brown dust, from which fragments of rock flew to long
distances. The crash became a roar like thunder, the whole mountain shook, rock
after rock flew downward, splintering themselves to a thousand atoms and
starting fresh masses. Downwards, downwards continued the smoke and din till it
died away far below, leaving us to congratulate ourselves that we were not
under it, but making us more anxious concerning the small falls of stones which
were continually coming down across our track.
The ice fall of the Hochstetter Glacier was now to our
right, and, as we were about 3,000 feet above the Tasman Glacier, we could make
out the plateau above the ice fall. To get at it, however, was the difficulty.
That we must ascend higher was beyond doubt—so up a steep snow slope we went
for 1,000 feet, till we came to the base of a vertical cliff.
 |
27 February 1882: Second Attempt On Mt Cook By Eastern Spur Green, William Spotswood (Rev), 1847-1919. Green, William Spotswood, 1847-1919: 2nd attempt on Mt Cook by eastern spur. [27 February 1882]. Green, William Spotswood, 1847-1919: [Journey to New Zealand and the attempt on Mount Cook, November 1881 to March 1882, and] Dodging about Switzerland in 1879.. Ref: E-581-q-012. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand. natlib.govt.nz/records/23022936 (with cropping) |
A snow couloir to our right was cut off from us by an open
bergschrund which Kaufmann did not admire, so we took to the rocks on our left,
which became more and more difficult as we advanced. It was impossible to avoid
dislodging loose stones, so we shortened up the rope in order that the stones
sent down by Kaufmann, who was often immediately over my head, might not
acquire too high a velocity before coming into contact with my skull, and that
I might not immolate Boss, who was often vertically beneath my feet. At last we
came to a ledge beyond which advance was impossible. Kaufmann reached it, we
slacking out rope to him; but he had to lower his knapsack to us ere he could
effect his retreat. We descended to the snow slope, and, cutting steps along
over the bergschrund, gained the foot of the couloir, which we found very
steep; but after an hour's step-cutting we reached the top and stood on the
first bit of rock we had met with for nearly 2,000 feet upon which it would
have been possible to lie down. Selecting it for our night bivouac, we set down
the knapsacks, which had proved weary burdens to us in our long climb.
The way ahead was still undiscovered, so, without any delay,
we proceeded to scramble upwards, it being impossible to get round in the
wished-for direction to the right. Climbing once more became very difficult. We
were now 8,000 feet above the sea, and the rocks we had climbed, hoping that
they would prove the topmost ridge, only brought us to some great vertical
slabs of sandstone, which looked very doubtful. Boss and I sat down on a crag
and let Kaufmann go on to see if we could ascend any farther. He set aside his
axe and carefully climbed to the top of a crag from which he could see over the
ridge immediately above us. It was a perilous climb. Finally he got stuck, and
singing out to us to guide him in his descent, as the rocks overhung, he
cautiously wriggled down the clefts, and satisfied us that we were again
brought to a stand.
 |
27 February 1882: Stuck Green, William Spotswood (Rev), 1847-1919. Green, William Spotswood, 1847-1919: Stuck! [27? February 1882]. Green, William Spotswood, 1847-1919: [Journey to New Zealand and the attempt on Mount Cook, November 1881 to March 1882, and] Dodging about Switzerland in 1879.. Ref: E-581-q-013. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand. natlib.govt.nz/records/22719775 (with cropping) |
A possible route was yet open — viz., to descend about 3,000
feet by a different couloir from the one by which we had ascended, and reach a
part of the lower cliffs nearer to the ice fall, from which we might work on to
the right. But as it was not unlikely that we might be landed in a cul-de-sac,
and as the climb would involve nearly a day's work in itself, and particularly
because from our high elevation we were able to see that the route to the
plateau was quite practicable by the Mount Tasman spur, we decided to descend
as quickly as possible, and to try to reach our camp before dark.
 |
27 February 1882: Retreat And Glissade Green, William Spotswood (Rev), 1847-1919. Green, William Spotswood, 1847-1919: Retreat and glissade. [27? February 1882]. Green, William Spotswood, 1847-1919: [Journey to New Zealand and the attempt on Mount Cook, November 1881 to March 1882, and] Dodging about Switzerland in 1879.. Ref: E-581-q-014. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand. natlib.govt.nz/records/22752385 (with cropping) |
We soon regained our knapsacks, and after taking a few
mouthfuls of food commenced our retreat, descending the snow couloir with our
faces to the slope, and keeping a good hold with our axes. After passing the
bergschrund in safety, we were able to make a standing glissade; then, after
more rocks, another glissade, and so got back to the lower couloir, and partly
by climbing, partly by glissading down streams of stones— stones and all going
down with us in a mild form of avalanche— we reached the bottom of the cliffs
just at dark. The full moon rose in a clear sky, and by its uncertain light we
threaded our way through the crevasses of the Ball Glacier, occasionally
plunging knee-deep into a clear pool which we had mistaken for a patch of
shadow, and at 9 P.M. reached our camp, feeling rather down-hearted at a second
failure. We were very tired, as we had climbed for nearly seventeen hours, with
heavy packs on our shoulders; our knuckles were all barked and the skin quite
worn off the tips of our fingers from clutching the sharp rocks, as we had no
time to select the smooth ones.
Next day [Feb 28] we spent in camp washing clothes, baking
bread in an oven built of stones, feeding up, and preparing provisions for our
final attempt by the Mount Tasman spur.
 |
Mount Cook and Mount Tasman from the Great Tasman Glacier (with Hochstetter Glacier in the middle). The upper annotations read "Point where we first reached the arête" and "Position of Linda Glacier". The right annotation reads "Bivouac on March 1st" |
The Alpine Journal, February 1883.
A Journey into the Glacier Regions of New Zealand, with an
Ascent of Mount Cook. By the Rev. W. S. Green. (Read before the Alpine Club,
December 18, 1882.)
In the last number of this Journal I described two attempts
which we made from our camp on the Great Tasman glacier to ascend Mount Cook.
On the first occasion we were brought to a stand by a rock-tooth on the
southern arête; our second effort ended in the face of a sandstone cliff of the
eastern spur.
Third attempt
View Larger Topographic Map
View Larger Topographic Map
 |
1 March 1882: Third Attempt - Our Bivouac Green, William Spotswood (Rev), 1847-1919. Green, William Spotswood, 1847-1919: 3rd attempt. Our bivouac on March 1st 82. [1882]. Green, William Spotswood, 1847-1919: [Journey to New Zealand and the attempt on Mount Cook, November 1881 to March 1882, and] Dodging about Switzerland in 1879.. Ref: E-581-q-016. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand. natlib.govt.nz/records/22676602 (with cropping) |
On March 1st we were once more under weigh at dawn, and
after ten hours' climbing, including many halts, we selected a place for a
bivouac among the topmost rocks of the Mount Tasman spur, on the north side of
the Hochstetter glacier. A short reconnaissance proved the possibility of
further advance, and while Boss and I melted snow by spreading it out thinly on
boulders which still retained some of the sun's heat, Kaufmann scraped a smooth
place under a rock, making a nice bed for us of material somewhat like
road-metal. On this we spread our waterproof sheet, then an opossum rug, and
after some Liebig and a smoke we huddled together, pulling the flaps of the
sheet over us, and dozed away till morning. Shortly after 4 A.M [Ed: On Mar 2].
we were awake, but on peeping out found the outside of the waterproof wet with
a drizzling mist. It was still very dark, so we waited a little, and then came
the pale light of dawn through the fog. We got up, made tea, and a little
before six o'clock it was clear enough to move upward. Great banks of clouds
had settled in the valley; above them, against one of those pea-green skies so
peculiar to New Zealand, rose the bold crags of the Malte Brun chain, one which
we called the Matterhorn looking quite worthy of its name. Other fleecy masses
had sailed aloft to the summits of the mountains, and we tried to think that
our virgin peak was putting on her bridal veil. Somehow or other we felt more
confident of success this morning than on any other occasion. A few minutes
from our bivouac brought us to the upper neve of a glacier which poured its icy
mass down a glen to our right; we zigzagged upward and soon crossed the rocky
ridge which separated us from the great plateau above the Hochstetter glacier.
By this time every cloud had vanished, and a prospect met our eyes which
surpassed anything I had yet seen. We overlooked the great plateau; on our left
we could just see the top of the Hochstetter icefall; before us the great peak
of Mount Cook, and then the cliffs of Mount Tasman, between which and us spread
out this wondrous field of ice; it was nearly two miles wide and about six
long, and seemed perfectly flat, though in reality it was a shallow basin.
There were no large crevasses except where the ice began to round off to the
Hochstetter fall, but some long narrow ones, which we afterwards found to be
immensely deep, crossed the field in parallel lines. These, however, gave us no
trouble; and we came to the conclusion that it would be a safe place on which to
spend the night, with plenty of room for exercise should we find it impossible
to regain our bivouac.
What absorbed our interest most of all was a glacier coming
down between Mount Cook and Mount Tasman, which I shall call the Linda glacier
[Ed: Reportedly after his wife, Belinda.]. It was much crevassed and broken,
but its upper portion wound round into a couloir between the rocky ribs of
Mount Cook, and promised a practicable route by which we might reach the upper
part of the arête. We lost no time in descending to the great plateau, and an
hour's tramp brought us to the seracs of the Linda glacier.
 |
Circa 2 March 1882: The Summit Of Mt Cook Green, William Spotswood (Rev), 1847-1919. Green, William Spotswood, 1847-1919: [The summit of Mount Cook. March 1882]. Ref: A-329-012. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand. natlib.govt.nz/records/22592622 (with cropping) |
 |
2 March 1882: On The Linda Glacier (far scene): Green, William Spotswood (Rev), 1847-1919. Green, William Spotswood, 1847-1919: On the Linda Glacier [2 March 1882]. Green, William Spotswood, 1847-1919: [Journey to New Zealand and the attempt on Mount Cook, November 1881 to March 1882, and] Dodging about Switzerland in 1879.. Ref: E-581-q-018. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand. natlib.govt.nz/records/23214729 (with cropping) |
 |
2 March 1882: On The Linda Glacier (near scene): Green, William Spotswood (Rev), 1847-1919. Green, William Spotswood, 1847-1919: On the Linda Glacier [2 March 1882]. Green, William Spotswood, 1847-1919: [Journey to New Zealand and the attempt on Mount Cook, November 1881 to March 1882, and] Dodging about Switzerland in 1879.. Ref: E-581-q-017. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand. natlib.govt.nz/records/22304899 (with cropping) |
We had to climb over big ice-blocks, creep up sharp edges
between immense crevasses, cross treacherous snow-bridges on hands and knees,
and at 10 A.M. we reached a little plateau above which we could see the upper
portion of the glacier winding round towards the summit.
 |
2 March 1882: Mt Cook From The Linda Glacier Green, William Spotswood (Rev), 1847-1919. Green, William Spotswood 1847-1919: Mount Cook from the Linda Glacier / W. S. G. [1882]. Ref: A-263-008. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand. natlib.govt.nz/records/22518240 (with cropping) |
We were close up to the foot of the arête which connects
Mount Cook with Mount Tasman. The wind had changed to the N.E., causing light
filmy clouds to form on all the higher peaks; the sun still shone with great
power, bringing down innumerable avalanches from the ice-cliffs of Mount
Tasman, and the heat was very great, as we were surrounded on three sides by
cliffs catching and reflecting all the sunshine. We halted for breakfast, and,
as our way was now plain, we determined to leave our provisions here till our
return; my men even suggested leaving our coats, as the work before us promised
to be very heavy, but by the time we had finished eating we were sufficiently
cooled down to abandon this idea. We deposited the knapsack, flask, and camera
near a conspicuous ice-block, and resumed our ascent between the main northern
arête and one of the other two ridges which came down from the summit in our
direction. The crevasses were numerous, some extending right across the
glacier, and several of these would have formed complete barriers had there not
been a thick coating of fresh snow. We had to advance with caution, and the
snow was in that most unpleasant of all conditions, having a crust just strong
enough to bear our weight until we prepared to make a step, and then letting us
through over knee deep. Several times Boss and I offered to relieve Kaufmann at
the work of breaking the steps, but he would not hear of it, and three hours' plodding
brought us to the head of the glacier.
 |
| [Ed: The expedition's final route towards the summit is not universally agreed. The "Mount Cook. Rev. W. S. Green's Route" artwork from Green's Alpine Journal article is one primary source. When matched against the visible rock, this appears to lead to the yellow route. Fortunately, the loss of snow and depredations of the 1991 rock avalanche have not substantially changed the rock features (see Fig 2). Meanwhile an annotated water-colour likely by Kenneth Ross, an alpine climber in the 1880s and 1890s who climbed alongside Fyfe, sketches an apparently different route (green). Green's written words and his "Crossing the couloir under fire" water-colour of 2 March 1882 represent another primary source but these imply a third route (up the right-hand fork dark blue line to the top right then back down to the bottom-left fork; and thence the green and yellow routes). Finally, a Te Ara article shows a fourth route for the 1882 expedition (red), but its sources are unclear.] The gorgeous base photograph is gently co-opted from 1964.co.nz |
The arêtes on either band had now drawn
close together, forming a couloir filled with ice, its lower termination being
an ice-cliff of about 100 feet. I thought we might have turned off to the right
and gained the Mount Tasman arête at this point, but the men considered the
bergschrund across its foot would prove impassable, and that the rocks above
could not be managed; so we turned off to the left, crossed the arête that had
been on our left, and reached the foot of an ice-filled couloir. The passage
from the head of the Linda glacier to this couloir was a severe piece of
step-cutting, but it was only the commencement of the real work, and it was now
2 P.M. From this slope we got our first and last view of the western sea.
More than one avalanche swept down the couloir as we worked
up to the shelter of the rocks; we therefore cut our steps close to the rocks
on the right, and every now and then sheltered behind some jutting crag as a
block of ice splintered itself on the rocks above and sent its pieces whizzing
past and over our heads, some blocks singing through the air like a
cannon-shot. Now and then we added to our security by getting a grip with one
hand on the rocks, not an unimportant consideration, as the ice-slope ended
below on the brink of a profound abyss. When near the top of the couloir we
thought it safer to take to the rocks, but soon we reached their upper
termination, and above us hung the ice-cliffs, with loose seracs ready to
tumble at any moment. To cross the couloir seemed too dangerous; we preferred
to attempt the ice rampart above. We cut steps up to its base and climbed the
first escarpment, but only to find ourselves facing an utterly insurmountable
wall of blue ice.
 |
2 March 1882: Labor In Vain Green, William Spotswood (Rev), 1847-1919. Green, William Spotswood, 1847-1919: Labour in vain! [2 March 1882]. Green, William Spotswood, 1847-1919: [Journey to New Zealand and the attempt on Mount Cook, November 1881 to March 1882, and] Dodging about Switzerland in 1879.. Ref: E-581-q-020. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand. natlib.govt.nz/records/23146722 (with cropping) |
We retreated to the rocks and held a short council of war.
The rocks on the opposite side of the couloir extended upwards, and might prove
accessible. Should we risk the couloir? My men asked me if I saw the danger. I
said of course I did, and feared we must turn back. It would have been a sore
disappointment to me, and as I saw by their faces an equally great one to them.
I asked them if they were ready to chance it. They replied that on leaving home
they expected to meet some danger; here it was and they were ready, but I must
give the word.
 |
2 March 1882: Crossing The Couloir Under Fire Green, William Spotswood (Rev), 1847-1919. Green, William Spotswood, 1847-1919: Crossing the couloir. Under fire! [2 March 1882]. Green, William Spotswood, 1847-1919: [Journey to New Zealand and the attempt on Mount Cook, November 1881 to March 1882, and] Dodging about Switzerland in 1879.. Ref: E-581-q-021. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand. natlib.govt.nz/records/22851503 (with cropping) |
The sun had now gone in, which lessened our risk, and no
avalanche had fallen for some time; so I said, 'Forwards.' A large avalanche-block
had stuck just midway in the couloir, and afforded us shelter when half-way
across; so with anxious glances upwards, Kaufmann cut away with all his might,
no time was lost, and we reached the rocks in safety. Unfortunately, however,
they proved inaccessible; the most we could do was to climb through a notch,
and, after the nastiest bit of climbing in the whole ascent, reach the
ice-slope beyond. We could now see there was heavy work still before us; it was
a long slope with a continual stream of detached ice sweeping down it, just
like large hail, which stung us bitterly, hitting our faces and even through
the mittens hurting our hands. Add to this the fact that a rapid thaw had set
in; every step we cut filled with water, which soaked our clothes, a condition
of misery which I never before experienced in the High Alps. It was now 4.20
P.M., so the question as to whether we should advance was again discussed. If
we went on it was quite clear we could not regain our bivouac before dark; but,
considering that men had survived nights on icy peaks, I asked Kaufmann how
long he thought it would take to cut up the slope. He said an hour; so on we
went again, taking the precaution of keeping close enough to the rocks to use
whatever grips might be available to secure ourselves against a slip. At 5.30
we reached the highest rocks, from which an easy slope led up to an icicled
bergschruud, which starting from the cornice of the arête ran round the cap of
the summit from left to right. By bearing away to the left we avoided it, and
surmounting the cornice without any difficulty at 6 P.M., stepped on to the
topmost crest of Ao-Rangi. Our first glance was, of course, down the great
precipice beneath us towards the Tasman glacier, the precipice up which we had
gazed so often, but the dark grey masses of vapour swirling round the ice-crags
shut out all distant view.
 |
2 March 1882: The Summit Of Mt Cook Green, William Spotswood (Rev), 1847-1919. Green, William Spotswood, 1847-1919: [The summit of Mount Cook. 2 March 1882]. Green, William Spotswood, 1847-1919: [Journey to New Zealand and the attempt on Mount Cook, November 1881 to March 1882, and] Dodging about Switzerland in 1879.. Ref: E-581-q-023. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand. natlib.govt.nz/records/22679971 (with cropping) |
The cornice rose in a gentle incline to our right, so we
advanced along it, keeping a good hold with our axes, as the wind blew fiercely
from the N.W. Now and then a blast stronger than usual would shatter the
icicles and send them down the slopes up which we had climbed. Descending with
a swishing sound, they soon pounded themselves to pieces, and so accounted for
the showers of coarse hail which had proved so disagreeable on the final
ice-slope. The cornice which had been formed by south winds was thus being
destroyed, and the thaw which was now going on assisted the demolition, causing
the ice to stream with water.
 |
2 March 1882: View Looking North North East From Mt Cook Green, William Spotswood (Rev), 1847-1919. Green, William Spotswood, 1847-1919: View looking N. N. E. from Mt Cook. [2 March 1882]. Green, William Spotswood, 1847-1919: [Journey to New Zealand and the attempt on Mount Cook, November 1881 to March 1882, and] Dodging about Switzerland in 1879.. Ref: E-581-q-019. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand. natlib.govt.nz/records/22866402 (with cropping) |
My men now urged that, as we were fairly on the summit of
the peak, we should lose no more time, but commence the descent; however, I
wished to satisfy myself about a break which I saw ahead of us in the cornice,
and finding on examination that it presented no difficulty whatever, but that
it would have taken some minutes to reach the slope beyond, I said I was
satisfied, so reading the barometer at 19.05 and making a rapid sketch, we
commenced our descent at 6.20. I was unable to take the exact temperature, as
my thermometer had met with an unlucky knock and was broken; but the thaw which
was going on gave me fair data to estimate the temperature at about 35°, which
I have done in calculating the elevation to have been about 12,350 ft* [Ed: 3764m; before the modern erosion]. The
highest point of the ice-cap was about 30 ft. higher than where we turned, and
my only reasons for not going on to it were that there was no view; there was
no difficulty in reaching it; the twenty minutes we saved was an important
addition to the hour's daylight which still remained for us to find a place of
safety for the night; and, as we were several hundred feet above the highest
ridge of rocks, there was no means of building a cairn or leaving any record of
our ascent. I did see some rocks which seemed, so far as I could judge through
their veil of icicles, to be a stratum of slates projecting from beneath the
ice-cap on our left, at a spot where a notch in the ridge gave us a view down
the cliffs, but these were in a completely inaccessible position. On returning
to the point where we first struck the arête we had to turn with our faces to
the ice and descend backwards, so as to keep a good grip with our axes. Soon we
reached the highest ridge of rocks, composed of highly indurated yellow
sandstone, where we loosened a few fragments and deposited beneath them my
handkerchief and Kaufmann's tin match-box. These rocks afforded no shelter
whatever from the Heiterwind, which was steadily increasing in violence. The
golden tint of parting day gleamed through the storm-clouds, giving a warm
blush to the snow. My men urged me to go quicker and quicker, but to find the
ice-steps backwards and look out for a firm grip was no easy job.
* The sea-level readings kindly furnished to me by Dr. Hector, F.R.S., chief of the New Zealand Meteorological department, &c., for the afternoon of March 2, were, Bar. 30.02", Temp. 65° F.
|
2 March 1882: The Worst Bit On Mt Cook Green, William Spotswood (Rev), 1847-1919. [Green, William Spotswood] 1847-1919: The worst bit on Mt Cook [1882]. Ref: A-263-010. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand. natlib.govt.nz/records/23021971 (with cropping) |
The lower termination of this ice-slope was the worst bit of
the whole descent. The ice thinned off over a ridge of rocks with a vertical
fall of about 6 feet, and bad holding ground below. We could cut no steps and
had kicked away all the grips coming up; there was nothing to which we could
attach our spare rope. The thought of this spot bore heavily on my mind so long
as we were above it, and there was only dim twilight when we reached its brink.
Kaufmann and I placed ourselves as firmly as we could, while Boss slipped over
the edge, and though he used his axe with great dexterity I felt an unpleasant
strain on my hips before he could check his descent. Then came my turn.
Kaufmann held the rope tight, slacking me down slowly, and then I got my feet
on Boss's axe. Kaufmann had no one to slack him down, so Boss stood up to him,
as close as he could with security, and let him down gently, while I jammed
myself into the only crevice available. To cross the couloir was the work of a
few minutes, and as we gained the rocks on the opposite side night closed in.
Still we had no shelter. The wind was now blowing in fierce squalls,
accompanied by showers of sleet and drenching rain. We could not find the
rock-grips in the dark, so we groped our way once more in the ice-steps, but
climbing in this manner became so dangerous that I called a halt on a little
ledge at the side of the couloir. We stood for a few minutes, and thinking that
we could stay there for the night, we took off our boots, wrung the water out
of our socks, and put them on again. Not only did the wind and rain beat down
upon us fiercely, but bits of falling ice struck our ledge, telling us plainly
that it would not do for a lengthened stay. By this time the full moon had
risen, and though we could not see it through the clouds it gave us some faint
light. Once more we took to the ice-slope, descended slowly to the lowest part
of the rock-ridge, and turning to the left beneath its shelter succeeded in
finding standing room on a little ledge from which we scraped the snow. It was
less than two feet wide and sloped outwards, so that we had to hold on with our
hands; and, as we were still about 10,000 feet above the sealevel, it was not
all that might be wished for a night's lodging. There was no choice, however,
as for thousands of feet below there was nothing but steep and crevassed
ice-slopes. I served out a meat lozenge all round, and twice during the night
repeated the dose; it was the only thing in the way of food or drink we possessed.
The nine hours of darkness went slowly by. We stamped one foot at a time to
keep life in it, then slapped our legs and shoulders with one hand, holding on
all the while with the other. Sitting down, or even shifting six inches from
the position we first occupied, was out of the question. The rain streamed down
the rock and prevented the water with which our clothes were soaked from
getting warm; and now and then a squall would swirl round the crags, bringing a
deluge of rain with it. At last midnight came. [Ed: And March 3] We were
getting drowsy. It seemed impossible to keep awake; to give way to sleep for an
instant would be to fall from the ledge, and our whole time was occupied in
watching so as to keep each other awake. We forced ourselves to keep on
talking. We discussed the administration of the Swiss poor laws and European
politics; we sang songs, and though Boss regretted much that the tobacco was
with the provisions over a thousand feet below us, both he and Kaufmann
congratulated themselves upon at all events having their pipes, at which they
sucked away diligently at intervals, and by sheer force of imagination enjoyed
several good smokes.
Whatever ideas may exist as to the cessation of avalanches
at night in the European Alps, all was different here; not a quarter of an hour
elapsed without a distant rumble or a thundering roar which made the rock we
stood on to vibrate. The warm north-west wind was of course the immediate
cause, everywhere a rapid thaw was going on; and though bad for us in some ways
it no doubt helped to prevent our being frostbitten, as we must certainly have
been had the wind shifted to the south or had radiation set in. Through the
early part of the night there was enough light to read our watches, but about 4
A.M. it became intensely dark; the moon had set; the wind seemed to blow harder
and the sleet to feel more chill. At 4.30 we saw the first glimmer of dawn; it
did not come a bit too soon, as we were perfectly blue and stiff with the cold,
and the effort to keep awake had become more and more painful.
 |
3 March 1882: Dawn Green, William Spotswood (Rev), 1847-1919. Green, William Spotswood, 1847-1919: Dawn of March 3rd [1882]. Green, William Spotswood, 1847-1919: [Journey to New Zealand and the attempt on Mount Cook, November 1881 to March 1882, and] Dodging about Switzerland in 1879.. Ref: E-581-q-024. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand. natlib.govt.nz/records/22416621 (with cropping) |
Still we had not enough light, as the rain-clouds hung in
heavy masses on the ice-slopes. Now and then we saw the cliffs of Mount Tasman
looming ghost-like for an instant, and again all would vanish. At 5.30 we left
our eyrie and resumed our descent. The steps were almost obliterated, and Boss
had to recut most of them, while Kaufmann, whose hands were black with
blood-blisters, kept a good hold above with his axe. We had still to climb down
backwards, and at last reached the head of the Linda glacier. Here the snow was
in very bad order, sometimes letting us sink waist deep, and several of the
snow-bridges which we had used on our ascent were no longer to be trusted; one
crevasse extending right across the glacier, had become almost impassable.
Still we made our way downwards, now and then scrambling over the blocks of
some great avalanche that had fallen during the night and obliterated our
tracks. When we reached the little plateau its whole aspect was changed; it had
been completely swept by an immense avalanche over which we scrambled, and
mistaking the level at which we had left our knapsack, for a time we feared it
had been swept away; but soon we were gladdened by seeing it all safe below us.
At 8.30 we reached it, and lost no time in discussing some cold duck and bread,
both of which seemed excellent, though the latter was now twenty days old, and
our mouths were sore inside from sucking the snow. However, twenty-two hours
without food would make anything seem good, and as we sat on our axe-heads we
realised the fact that we had not once sat down for the same length of time.
Lest we should get stiff we made but a short halt, and shouldering our traps were
soon amongst the seracs. Here again the avalanches bad obliterated our track;
the debris of one of these covered an area of at least 200 acres and
conveniently filled one large crevasse which had caused us to make a tour the
day before. In an hour we reached the Great Plateau, and another hour's brisk
walking took us across it. While crossing it we saw a grand avalanche fall from
the Tasman cliffs not far from us. A large piece of glacier cracked-off and
slid with a quantity of smaller pieces to the brink of the cliff, and then
toppled over, coming down on the glacier below with a deafening crash, and
sending up clouds of ice-dust, from the midst of which huge pieces flew like
rockets in all directions. None of us had ever seen such avalanches before. The
slopes between the plateau and our bivouac were in a most treacherous
condition, loose snow lying on steep ice; so we were compelled to diverge from
our old route and seek a safer line close to the rocks.
At 1 P.M. we reached our bivouac in safety, and soon had the
spirit-lamp going, and felt much refreshed after a cup of 'tea and half an
hour's rest; but as our clothes were still wet, and every now and then it
rained heavily, we had to shoulder our packs. Tired as my men were, they would
allow me to carry nothing, but loaded themselves with our rugs, &c. I
suggested tumbling the whole pack down a snow-couloir which led to the bottom
of the Hochstetter glacier; but they argued that they would lose more time
picking up the bits than in carrying the pack down. The rocks were in many
places so loose and bad that we had to keep on the rope, and at 6 P.M. we
reached the Tasman glacier. On the way down the rocks we gathered a quantity of
the New Zealand edelweiss (Gnaphalium grandiceps), and I secured a
photograph of the top of Mount Cook, from which the clouds cleared between the
showers. There was no time to spare on reaching the Tasman glacier, as night
would soon be upon us, so we took off the rope, after having had it on for
thirty-six consecutive hours, walked down the glacier at a good four miles per
hour, and at 7.30 reached our camp. While Kaufmann fetched water and Boss got
the fire going I prepared our beds for the night; and after a supper of
parrot-soup and porridge, and a lounge round our camp-fire, we turned in. I,
for one, never slept so soundly in my life; I just laid my head down, and it
seemed to me that an instant only had elapsed when I awoke in the sunshine, and
found by my watch it was 9 o'clock next morning [Ed: Mar 4]. The weather was
still cloudy, but we were not so anxious about it as we had been for the past
three weeks, and we made it a day of rest and eating. We were sorry to think
that our time among the mountains was now drawing to a close. Our little camp
seemed more comfortable than ever; everything wearing a brighter hue now that
the dismal feelings generated by our two fruitless attempts had been dispelled.
On March 5 we rose before the sun, and after breakfast set
to work packing up our tent and clothes, as we determined to try, if possible,
and reach our lower camp in the one day. To do this no return journey could be
made, and though our provisions were subtracted from the general load there was
a good deal to be carried. Kaufmann made up one pack for himself, which weighed
quite a hundredweight; Boss carried another heavy pack; and I carried my
knapsack, camera, gun, and ice-axe. Just as the sun rose we started and toiled
along over the boulders; there was only one bit of about 500 yards which was at
all level enough for fair walking till we reached the foot of the glacier. By
far the greater part of our route lay over loose, tottering boulders of all
sizes up to that of a house, and we had constantly to use our hands to steady
ourselves. Almost the only way in which our long exposure on Mount Cook told on
us was in making our hands very tender and causing them to swell, and
scrambling over the rough, sharp boulders was painful work. It rained most of
the day. We rested often, and in twelve hours reached the [Ed: likely the first] camp. We found
everything in good order, and, after pitching our small tent to hold our
stores, retired to our hammocks for the night.
Two days afterwards the horses arrived, and on March 12 we were once more in the train, running down to Timaru.
An 1882 article published in American magazine Harper's Bazar includes an extra detail about their departure: "They [Ed: the mountaineering trio] ... packed up and descended to the foot of the [Tasman] glacier. Here they waited 2 days for the horses, which it had been arranged should return to take them away on the day they got down. The horses not appearing and their provisions running short, the party started for Birch Hill Station, and had just forded the rough and dangerous Hooker by tying together and using their ice axes as supports, when they same the horses going up the opposite side, having crossed at a lower point. The mountaineers and the horses must have been in the water at the same time. The attention of the man in charge of the horses being obtained by lighting a fire, arrangements were soon made for packing the camp equipage to Burnett's Station, and thence to party drove to Lake Tekapo on Friday, reaching Timaru on Saturday evening." Harper's Bazar ["Harper's Bazaar" from the 1920s], Volume XV No. 35, page 554, published 29 July 1882. |
 |
8 March 1882: The Hooker Green, William Spotswood (Rev), 1847-1919. Green, William Spotswood, 1847-1919: The Hooker [March 8th, 1882]. Green, William Spotswood, 1847-1919: [Journey to New Zealand and the attempt on Mount Cook, November 1881 to March 1882, and] Dodging about Switzerland in 1879.. Ref: E-581-q-025. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand. natlib.govt.nz/records/22817736 (with cropping) |
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Having given you, to the best of my ability, a true account of
our adventures on Mount Cook, I hope without either exaggerating or underrating
the difficulties we encountered, I shall now make a few general remarks which
may be of interest to many of you, and I trust of use to those who may follow
my steps to the antipodes. The Southern Alps, though possessing no peaks of as
great an altitude as their European namesakes, must not be treated as lower and
therefore easier mountains to be climbed. From a mountaineering point of view
they may be considered of equal height, as the level at which snow-work begins
is 3,000 ft. lower than in Europe, and but little elevation above the sea is
gained until the very bases of the mountains are reached. The general style of
the peaks is very similar to those of Switzerland, and some will prove as
difficult as any peaks that have ever been scaled. Little will be done in their
exploration except by parties of men well used to Alpine work. Though the
ascent of Mount Cook is necessarily a long expedition I would not say it is a
difficult one, except for the man who cuts the steps. For the last five hours
every step we ascended had to be cut in hard ice with the spike of the axe, the
adze-side being of no avail. If the snow were in a different condition from
that in which we found it, so that steps might be kicked, then the time and
difficulty would, of course, be much lessened. Whether the last slopes are ever
in this condition at the season of the year when mountaineering is possible I
very much doubt. There is no denying the fact that we had to face a certain
amount of risk from avalanches. Our ascending track was obliterated in nearly a
dozen places by ice-avalanches which fell during the night we were on the
ledge. I think, however, that more fell during that night than for many weeks
previous. The hot wind and thaw set them tumbling about in all directions, and
their debris covered areas upon which we found no signs of avalanches during
our ascent. All these fell upon the Linda glacier from the hanging glaciers on
the arête connecting Mount Cook with Mount Tasman; in fine weather I should
think there would be but little danger on this part of the ascent. The couloir
above the Linda glacier will always present some danger, as it is overhung by
seracs, but good shelter is afforded by the rocks, and the only unavoidable
risk is for the few minutes occupied in crossing it.
Several of the crevasses in the Linda glacier were very
wide; one of them very nearly cut us off, but a thick coating of soft snow
enabled us to cross them on treacherous bridges. In the ice-cap of the summit
bergschrunds may be expected, but as these do not occur till the ice has
rounded off into easy slopes they can be turned at the arête or followed round
till the easiest place is found. Whether any other route will be discovered to
the summit time will tell. A choice of routes did occur to us at the head of
the Linda glacier, as an arête rose on either hand. We chose the one on our
left. The route from the Hooker glacier may be practicable, and if it is so it
would be much the most direct.
Of the other grand peaks which came under our notice Mount
Sefton was the first to attract our attention, and if I mistake not it will
prove as tough a climb as any man need desire. It would be reached easily from
Birch Hill sheepstation; and from a camp on the Muller glacier its lower cliffs
might be scaled, an upper glacier-plateau reached, and from there the great
rock-arête could be attacked. If, however, a party does not feel strong enough
to face the Schreckhorn, they had better let Mount Sefton be and keep their
necks intact.
After Mount Sefton, Mount Tasman, a glorious glacier peak
with a Silberhorn on its southern shoulder, was one which we often discussed.
Never have I seen a grander array of hanging glaciers, and no speck of rock was
visible in its glittering dome. But to select a route safe from avalanches
seemed impossible, as one ice-escarpment began in the hollow where its
neighbour ended, and the whole mountain was channeled by avalanche-tracks.
Mount De la Beche reminded us somewhat of Monte Rosa as seen
from the Gorner glacier, and may be no more difficult. But the peaks at the
head of the Tasman glacier, Mount Beaumont on the one side and Mount Darwin on
the other, were the climbs which I longed most to make. Here the survey is at
fault, and an interesting topographical question remains to be settled by the
mountaineer who gains the view from Mount Darwin.
Between Mount Darwin and Mount Beaumont is a dome like the
Cima di Jazi, from which a view in many respects similar to that from Mount
Darwin might be gained. Failing Mount Darwin we hoped to have made this
expedition at least, but we had not time at our disposal to make another
journey for provisions which the expedition would have involved, so had to give
it up. This would be an interesting expedition for a party not feeling equal to
the more formidable peaks, and it might be done from the lower termination of
the Tasman glacier by men who know something of the dangers of crevasses and
the use of the rope; who would be ready to carry provisions for three days and
satisfied to sleep beside a fire on the lateral moraine under the shelter of
the Southern Cross.
 |
Peaks of the Malte Brun Range from the Slopes of Mt Cook, New Zealand |
The bold peaks of the Malte Brun range will afford some
splendid expeditions to men who prefer rocks to ice, and are the last I shall
speak of in this region round the Tasman glacier.
The distant peaks which came in view to the north when we
were on the higher slopes of Mount Cook, Mount Tyndall and others were too far
off for accurate examination, and belong to quite a different district. The
time has hardly yet arrived for making glacier-passes in New Zealand, as the
difficulty of carrying supplies over mountain-ridges into valleys where no
signs of human habitation exist would involve very heavy labour. But supposing
no insuperable mountaineering difficulty should intervene, a most interesting
expedition for first-rate climbers would be to ascend the Hooker glacier to its
head, cross the col between Mount Cook and Mount Stokes, and descend by the Balfour
or Hector glacier to the west coast. These western glaciers have been but
imperfectly mapped out, so a safer way of attempting such an expedition would
be, after exploring the Mount Cook district from the neighbourhood of Birch
Hill, and making a cache of provisions on the Hooker glacier, to return to
Christ Church, take the far-famed drive thence by coach to Hokitika, go up to
the glacier-sources of the Weheka River, and work back to the Hooker glacier.
This journey would take the traveller through some of the grandest scenes of
New Zealand.*
Another interesting field for mountaineering may be found in
Otago, many of the peaks being quite as fine as those of the Ortler district. But
time and space forbid wandering, so leaving those who wish to know more about
the mountain districts to study Dr. Haast's Geology of Canterbury and Professor
Hutton's Geology of Otago, I shall conclude with a few remarks on the best
season for mountaineering and the best system of travelling in the Southern
Alps.
*See an interesting paper by Mr. S. H. Cox, F.C.S., F.G.S.,
on ' The Western Flanks of Mount Cook,' published in the Transactions of the
New Zealand Institute,' vol ix. p. 577.
I was much distressed at spending the month of January in
quarantine, as I believed it would be the best time for the glaciers,
corresponding as it does with July in our northern climes; but Dr. Hector and
Dr. Haast assured me on my arrival in February that I was not a day too late,
as the end of February and the whole of March is the season when a continuance
of fine weather can almost certainly be calculated upon. During that period we
enjoyed splendid weather; it rained on only seven days in a whole month, and
but three days were really bad. On one of these snow fell as low as 3,000 feet
above the sea. I would like to have been established in camp for the first week
in February, as in March the days are very short, and on unexplored ground
starting before daylight is only to get involved in difficulties. In the
earlier summer months the rivers are swollen and impassable, the weather wet
and stormy; but, though more snow falls on the Southern Alps than on our
European peaks, when the fine weather does come it is more continuously fine.
In the paper which I read before the Royal Irish Academy,
and which was republished in the Alpine Journal' for last August, I described
our hiring a waggon and our journey to the foot of the glacier. Were I going on
a mountaineering expedition to those regions again I think I would adopt the
following plan: —
At Timaru, where there is a horse-fair once a week, I would
purchase a few horses with long legs suitable for fording the rivers, fit them
with pack-saddles, take them by rail to Albury, and then start for the
mountains on foot. I would engage, if possible, two men who would take charge
of the horses, and be ready to act as porters when we came to the glaciers, as
on our expedition tire time and labour was lost in swagging provisions than in
anything else. Had we had but two men at our lower camp who would have fetched
up supplies to our upper camp, we might have climbed four mountains while we
were climbing the one. If the horses had been grazing near our lower camp, we
would have been free to go or stay, or shift our camp as we pleased. No great
loss would be incurred in the sale of the horses again. Should time, however,
be an object, the waggon certainly was a good institution, as with three horses
we made short work of the first forty miles of our journey from Albury.
We calculated on finding sheep near our camp at the Tasman
glacier, as a mob of 2,000 are generally sent over the Hooker for the summer
months. This year, however, owing to some glacier-bridges having given way,
they were unable to cross, and we had to supplement our provision-store with
Paradise ducks and parrots. It would be safer for future travellers to make
themselves independent of such supplies by taking plenty of tinned meats from
Timaru. I must now bring these notes to a close, and hope they may be of use to
others who shall visit the Southern Alps, but I cannot do so without saying
that, no matter how much I may long to be again amongst those wild secluded
valleys, rugged peaks, and untrodden snows with my trusty friends Emil Boss and
Ulrich Kaufmann, without whose skill and plucky endurance I could have done
nothing, no less a pleasure would it be to find myself once more in company
with the many kind friends I made amongst the hospitable people of New Zealand,
many of whom impressed upon me that the same kindness would be extended to any
other members of our Club who may seek to unravel the mysteries of their
Southern Alps.
 |
29 July 1882: The First Ascent Of Mt Cook The Graphic Graphic (London, England). The Graphic, London: The first ascent of Mount Cook, New Zealand [London] 1882. Ref: C-068-002. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand. natlib.govt.nz/records/22746523 (with cropping) |
An account of the expedition, surely authored by Green was published in "The Graphic" later in 1882, and illustrated with engravings. Some of these are clearly taken from Green's water-colours, and others might come from his photographs. The image on the top row, second from left, is captioned "A Perilous Night-Watch" and occurs during the night and before "The Dawn" (above).
