The North Ridge of Sefton - A Christmas to Remember
Two days of bush-whacking, a night high on an alpine ridge, rock, snow, ice, and a 3000m peak—is the North ridge of Sefton the poster child of New Zealand mountaineering?
Not even a week had passed after getting back from a trip in the Fox Neve, and I found myself once again packing for another multi-day trip into the alpine.
A large high-pressure system was slowly passing over the island, promising a good window. The North Ridge of Sefton feels like a rite of passage for Westcoast mountaineering and has had my eye for a while now.
Having just moved back to Fox Glacier I was in a good position to attempt a climb from the western side. A good friend of mine Jules was keen (even after doing our research and realizing we were in for a hell of a-lot-a of walking!).
Jules and I worked together and had the same weekend. Our Monday coincidently fell on Christmas day; giving us a three day weekend - thanks Santa! This would give us a good window, but with a fair amount of ground to cover, we packed our bags before work on Friday.
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After a hot day guiding away on the glacier, we clocked out and headed south to the Copland Track, arriving at around 7 pm.
We both felt pretty knackered after a busy week, and we weren't sure how far we'd get. I was quietly surprised when we stumbled into Welcome flat camp 4 hours later.
We camped under the Douglas Rock Bivvy and woke up at the gentleman's hour of 7 am. With 2500m of elevation to climb plus a long descent, we accepted that a night-out lay ahead of us somewhere on the mountain. This reduced some of the time pressure, so after a coffee and breakfast, we wandered off towards the base of the looming North Ridge.
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Around 3 hours later, I found myself looking up at the route from Douglas Hut. The ridge stretched out of sight. I felt like Jack gearing up for the beanstalk!
We started up the slabs of the north ridge. The climbing was easy but time-consuming, and I wondered where on the mountain we'd end up. I preferred to be at the base of the ice cap so that we could see the route for the next day. With the amount of route finding and steep scrambling ahead, I wasn't sure we'd make it that far.
After the slick slabs, we put our crampons back on and followed a snow slope up to the start of the main rock buttresses. The rock changed from glacier smooth slabs to steep, loose walls of greywacke and argillite.
The route finding wasn't obvious, but whenever we ran into problems, Jules poked his head around the corner and would happen to find an easier way. Following the strata of the blocky rock layers, you are actually able to traverse a lot of the harder looking sections via ledges to the left which lead to easier ground.
Finally, we broke out of the steep climbing to a narrow ridge about 6 hours from the valley. We followed this up a wee way until we could see the base of the ice section.
It wasn't far off dark, so we decided to set up camp on the last piece of rock which stuck out of the now snow-covered ridge.
There was a bunch of flat rocks around, so I got to work on our beds. While it wasn't exactly the Sealy Posturepedic gold standard, I was pretty damn happy with my flat mattress. I would recommend this over trying to camp in the snow closer to the ice section. After an hour of stacking and sorting our camp, we were nestled in our sleeping bags and making dinner.
Perched high on the north ridge we sat like ants on a boulder, humbled by the ocean of mountain faces transforming in the setting sun. It was a completely new vantage point for me, and I was psyched to get a look at areas and faces I had read so much about.
Setting alarms for 5 am we rolled over. Under a blanket of stars and the full moon, poor Jules listened to me sore my head off (he never complained but it is probably true).
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No sooner than closing my eyes, I had woke from a deep sleep to my alarm going off. It was a chilly start to Christmas Eve. I snuck my hand out from my cosy sleeping bag into the cold air and flicked the stove on for porridge and coffees.
We ate in our sleeping bags as the first rays of morning light stretched across the sky. What a way to start the day, eh!
After some tucker, we packed our bags and started up towards the icy section; the final technical step before the climb meets the West ridge.
Now, this is where it gets a little niggly. Not wanting to climb the rock section in my big boots or have to carry them (I only had doubles at the time) I had come up with the glorious idea to do the whole thing in my approach shoes.
I had tried my trekker-crampons and approach shoe combo at work (flat ice), and it seemed okay so here I was, at the base of a 70-degree slope with tennis shoes and trekking spikes!
We did, however, bring a rope and so Jules started up the crunchy snow ready to throw me a line in case the terrain got too much for my shoes.
My feet bent like tacos as my crampons bit down on the hard, icy snow. Instead of using the usual front points, I was able to smear my whole front plate on the wall as I carefully made my way up.
Although uncomfortable, it actually worked pretty well. After the hard snow turned to blue ice, I decided it was going to be a little too dicey to carry on comfortably, and we got the rope out for the first time. Jules was in his mountain boots and was happy to bring me up for a couple of the steeper pitches before the ice softened again.
We stashed our packs where the North ridge met the West and scrambled towards the summit.
It is hard to think of a more perfect summit day. Not a single breath of wind, the sky was completely clear and treated us to a panoramic view of the island. I could see the coastline where my home town lay to the north and the ocean past the Canterbury Plains on the east. It was definitely a Christmas to remember!
We sat pointing things out in the distance and chirping away for a while before descending back down to our packs.
We followed the West ridge to the glacier below and staying at around 2300m clambered over a few fallen seracs towards Welcome pass (I was glad it was cold now!).
We made it over a Welcome Pass around midday, just as the snow began to soften.
The tussock after getting through Scott Pass slowed us down to a crawl. Route finding was a little tricky, but we found the marked track once we entered the thick, Westcoast bush.
We finally broke out after a thirsty few hours and stopped at Scott Creek. I made salty chicken soup and went for a swim. We bathed in the sun for an hour or so and then made our weary way across the clearings to Welcome Flat, bound for the famous hot pools.
After finding our stashed food at Douglas Bivvy, we made dinner and took our tucker down to the steaming pools. There are a few different thermal pools to choose from, completely natural and tucked in the forest; it was a great end to the big mission. Feeling accomplished, we ate and relaxed while looking back up towards Mt Sefton.
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I had been invited to the Sullivans household for Christmas lunch and so the next day enjoyed our coffees and put a pace on. I made it to lunch just in time for a beaut lunch and good company—a perfect weekend on the coast.
