Three saddles
Going off trail in Nelson Lakes, August 2020
Words and pictures Peter Laurenson
I really didn’t want to concede. It’s supposed to be third time lucky, but there on steep, slippery scree, with minimal visibility in all directions and still another 650 metres of climbing to go, reaching the summit of Mount Travers would be pointless. ‘It’s August. Where’s the damned snow?’ We were approaching 1,700 metres and the only sign of it was intermittent seams running down from cracks that emerged out of the damp clag. ‘We’re going too slow and there won’t be any views, even if we do carry on Shaun.’ My climbing buddy was relieved. He’d been pondering how to persuade me to quit, knowing that this attempt on Travers, via the easy (but long) summit Creek route was my third. I’d already been turned back on the summit ridge via the southeast face one October by deteriorating weather, and in May by loose, patchy snow and verglas at the notch at 2,000m on the south ridge. Third time not lucky then.
As photographers, Shaun and I were consoled as we trudged back through mossy forest beside Summit Creek in soft, muted light. ‘The forest here in Nelson Lakes is hard to beat’ Shaun exclaimed, as he pulled out his camera. ‘Yeah, the light’s perfect for forest photography alright’ I agreed. Darryn, the third member of our party, patiently waited when we found a luxuriantly moss-covered, five metre high waterfall grotto to photograph. A little later, back on the main trail between Upper Travers Hut and John Tait Hut, we did the same at Travers Falls, before returning to John Tait.
That afternoon we dried out and discussed options. A blocking high to the east had created ‘groundhog-day’ claggy conditions – no wind, but no change either. We agreed to climb to Cupola Hut next day and then, if the weather relented, have a crack at Mount Cupola. Given the mild temperature and soft snow, we left our rope and harnesses, plus some food, at John Tait. At least our packs were now a bit lighter. If the clag remained, we might at least be able to venture over Gunsight Saddle beneath the imposing south face of Cupola, before traversing south and east around to Travers Saddle. Shaun and Darryn had covered this route in the opposite direction many years ago, so even with poor visibility, we figured we’d be okay.
I’d only been to Cupola Hut once before. That was a July trip and that time, the snow was so deep we had to dig our way into the hut. The shovel mounted above the hut door is there for good reason. That afternoon, we managed to reach the ridge above the hut at 1,940 metres, but next morning as we approached Mount Cupola, we crossed one pile of avalanche debris after another as the clouds came down to meet us. We retreated, only just getting out before a ‘weather bomb’ hit the region, bowling trees in downtown Nelson as we slurped consoling beers.
As photographers, Shaun and I were consoled as we trudged back through mossy forest beside Summit Creek in soft, muted light. ‘The forest here in Nelson Lakes is hard to beat’ Shaun exclaimed, as he pulled out his camera. ‘Yeah, the light’s perfect for forest photography alright’ I agreed. Darryn, the third member of our party, patiently waited when we found a luxuriantly moss-covered, five metre high waterfall grotto to photograph. A little later, back on the main trail between Upper Travers Hut and John Tait Hut, we did the same at Travers Falls, before returning to John Tait.
That afternoon we dried out and discussed options. A blocking high to the east had created ‘groundhog-day’ claggy conditions – no wind, but no change either. We agreed to climb to Cupola Hut next day and then, if the weather relented, have a crack at Mount Cupola. Given the mild temperature and soft snow, we left our rope and harnesses, plus some food, at John Tait. At least our packs were now a bit lighter. If the clag remained, we might at least be able to venture over Gunsight Saddle beneath the imposing south face of Cupola, before traversing south and east around to Travers Saddle. Shaun and Darryn had covered this route in the opposite direction many years ago, so even with poor visibility, we figured we’d be okay.
I’d only been to Cupola Hut once before. That was a July trip and that time, the snow was so deep we had to dig our way into the hut. The shovel mounted above the hut door is there for good reason. That afternoon, we managed to reach the ridge above the hut at 1,940 metres, but next morning as we approached Mount Cupola, we crossed one pile of avalanche debris after another as the clouds came down to meet us. We retreated, only just getting out before a ‘weather bomb’ hit the region, bowling trees in downtown Nelson as we slurped consoling beers.
I remember Cupola Hut as a very cold spot, but this time there was no snow to dig and a potbelly stove had been installed. Built in 1957 as a base for scientific researchers, Cupola offers eight bunks in a long oblong box with plenty of windows. Situated just below the tree line amongst beautiful beech forest, the view to the south face of Mount Hopeless, with its intimidatingly exposed couloir route to the summit, is spectacular. Just a minute’s climbing above the hut and you’re in open, rolling tussock with views of peaks above from north to south, when looking west; and more open vistas down Cupola Creek to the St Arnaud Range when looking east.
After settling in, that afternoon we made a recce above the hut to check out the route up 2,260 metre Mount Cupola and also south to 1,780 metre Gunsight Saddle. While I was very keen to climb Cupola, both options looked enticing. The weather would determine which way we went next morning.
We enjoyed a cosy night until my bladder overwhelmed what Shaun likes to call ‘pit-suction’. A good reason at least, to check what the dawn had on offer - clear skies, but still heavy clag on the peaks – so we packed everything for a trip over Gunsight Saddle.
The alpine beech forest in Nelson Lakes is hard to beat. Here, below Upper Travers Hut
Just beneath gunsight Saddle (1,780m)
Gunsight Saddle
Sunrise is drawn out in August and comes late. At about 7.30am, just after we reached the rolling tussock, the sky tinged red, compelling Shaun and I to extract our cameras. There aren’t many better ways to begin a day than a nice sunrise in the mountains. It had all three of us grinning, oohhing and aahhing. Cupola was a black sheer wall of ramparts merging in to fiery-red, swirling cloud, reassuring us that we were not un-necessarily passing up a good chance to climb the peak that morning. The clag remained in place all that day, indeed lowering as the day wore on.
Gunsight Saddle though, was clear and beautifully tinged with warm dawn colours. Reaching it required a hundred metre drop, before climbing steep tussock to a basin. This is where we reached patchy snow. I put my crampons on to justify lugging them all that way. The others couldn’t be bothered and, given the softness of the snow, there was no need to.
From the Saddle further south, through swirling clouds, we could see sections of Mount Franklin, at 2,340 metres, the highest peak in the Nelson Lakes - two metres taller than Travers. From the saddle we dropped 300 metres, below the snowline to skirt across scree slopes. At one point we actually got bluffed, requiring another drop before we could then make a beeline to a second un-named saddle, back up above the snowline at 1,800 metres.
From this nameless point we looked south again, across ridges coming off the east side of Travers, to Travers Saddle, almost at the same height as where we stood. Between us, again below the snowline, were about two kilometres of slippery scree and tussock. This time we had to drop to 1,400 metres, before joining the trail from the Sabine Valley. The terrain was not friendly, with several hidden bluffs to negotiate. At one point I managed to slice a section of skin off the ball of my right hand. The blood flowed freely and I was surprised at how bright red it was. ‘You must have a high haemoglobin count’ explained Shaun, as Darryn patched me up. Just minutes later Darryn cut his thumb and I returned the favour.
Gunsight Saddle though, was clear and beautifully tinged with warm dawn colours. Reaching it required a hundred metre drop, before climbing steep tussock to a basin. This is where we reached patchy snow. I put my crampons on to justify lugging them all that way. The others couldn’t be bothered and, given the softness of the snow, there was no need to.
From the Saddle further south, through swirling clouds, we could see sections of Mount Franklin, at 2,340 metres, the highest peak in the Nelson Lakes - two metres taller than Travers. From the saddle we dropped 300 metres, below the snowline to skirt across scree slopes. At one point we actually got bluffed, requiring another drop before we could then make a beeline to a second un-named saddle, back up above the snowline at 1,800 metres.
From this nameless point we looked south again, across ridges coming off the east side of Travers, to Travers Saddle, almost at the same height as where we stood. Between us, again below the snowline, were about two kilometres of slippery scree and tussock. This time we had to drop to 1,400 metres, before joining the trail from the Sabine Valley. The terrain was not friendly, with several hidden bluffs to negotiate. At one point I managed to slice a section of skin off the ball of my right hand. The blood flowed freely and I was surprised at how bright red it was. ‘You must have a high haemoglobin count’ explained Shaun, as Darryn patched me up. Just minutes later Darryn cut his thumb and I returned the favour.
It was a relief to be on a trail again, but that was short-lived as we climbed back in to snowy mush. ‘I’m over this crap’ exclaimed Shaun as we slowly approached the saddle. Nine hours into our day’s journey I was too tired to do any more than grunt confirmation. If snow is in condition it’s a joy. When it’s not it’s a torment. At least we were on our third and final saddle and gravity would assist until we reached Upper Travers Hut.
During the Te Araroa season, Upper Travers Hut can become a zoo. Now we had it all to ourselves and enjoyed sleeping on double mattresses out in the dining room beside the stove. Next morning dawned cold and crystal clear – a summit day perhaps? But not for us – time had run out as we prepared to head back down valley. By early afternoon the clag had returned and later, it began to spit on the windows of Lakehead Hut.
Ah well, three Saddles – one to mark each of my failed attempts on Mount Travers. It could be worse - as people like to say, ‘those mountains aren’t going anywhere’. I do wonder though, with climate change, if climbing windows are becoming rarer to come by.
More images and a route map here
https://www.occasionalclimber.co.nz/browse-images-2/new-zealand-south-island/nelson-lakes-browse/three-saddles-nelson-lakes/
When you can't climb the mountain, take an arty tree pic. In the forest beside Summit Creek
During the Te Araroa season, Upper Travers Hut can become a zoo. Now we had it all to ourselves and enjoyed sleeping on double mattresses out in the dining room beside the stove. Next morning dawned cold and crystal clear – a summit day perhaps? But not for us – time had run out as we prepared to head back down valley. By early afternoon the clag had returned and later, it began to spit on the windows of Lakehead Hut.
Ah well, three Saddles – one to mark each of my failed attempts on Mount Travers. It could be worse - as people like to say, ‘those mountains aren’t going anywhere’. I do wonder though, with climate change, if climbing windows are becoming rarer to come by.
More images and a route map here
https://www.occasionalclimber.co.nz/browse-images-2/new-zealand-south-island/nelson-lakes-browse/three-saddles-nelson-lakes/
When you can't climb the mountain, take an arty tree pic. In the forest beside Summit Creek
On the scree at 1,600m, beside Summit Creek
On Travers Saddle, Mount Travers shrouded in cloud at left
It’s been quite a few years since I’ve bothered to write up a trip report, as I’ve been a distant fringe member for quite a few years, however as I’m keen to get more involved with the club I thought I would challenge myself and give it a nudge, alas the current state of affairs has made getting to know current members fairly difficult.
Post a long injury period in 2019 and into the start of 2020, February came, and my foot was just able to cope walking in mountain boots. I had a month of bite size adventures including Mt Earnslaw, trad climbing at the Remarks, Alta Slabs, Mount Horrible, Mangetapopo and the ever faithful Titahi bay.
With trips planned through March and April and a Himalayan trip planned for Late April/May my climbing calendar was filling up.
Unbeknownst to most of us lay folks the release of the Gabriel Garcia Marquez sequel `Life in the times of Covid’ would curtail many a fine-looking plan.
Lake Rotoiti in all its glory
Lockdown was survived with pouring over a plethora of page turning guidebooks longingly and trying to keep improving my strengthening foot, a blessing in disguise really. Level 3 came and went, and we all found freedom in Level 2 mk1.
As soon as my work schedule allowed, I jumped on the evening sailing of the Interislander and headed south, destination St Arnaud. The next morning, I woke to a beautiful morning with the sun glistening off Lake Rotoiti. With the morning sun beaming down and not a breath of wind I soon discarded my headphones and preloaded podcasts and enjoyed the solitude and easy-going nature of the walk alongside the Travers to my first rest stop of the John Tait Hut.
One of the first signs of how much snow you’ll encounter up high, is as you turn a corner about 14ish kms into the meander and on the true left of the Travers, The Camel comes into view, a beautifully shaped smaller outlier peak. With just a delicate dusting on top I knew this would be more summer conditions with perhaps a little morning verglas to contend with.
A short stop at John Tait Hut for a brew and a biccy, then off, destination Cupola Hut.
As Hopeless and Cupola came into view, unobstructed by even a single wispy. I was hopeful that the next morning would bring similar conditions.
'The Camel' coming into view from the Travers
Post a long injury period in 2019 and into the start of 2020, February came, and my foot was just able to cope walking in mountain boots. I had a month of bite size adventures including Mt Earnslaw, trad climbing at the Remarks, Alta Slabs, Mount Horrible, Mangetapopo and the ever faithful Titahi bay.
With trips planned through March and April and a Himalayan trip planned for Late April/May my climbing calendar was filling up.
Unbeknownst to most of us lay folks the release of the Gabriel Garcia Marquez sequel `Life in the times of Covid’ would curtail many a fine-looking plan.
Lake Rotoiti in all its glory
Lockdown was survived with pouring over a plethora of page turning guidebooks longingly and trying to keep improving my strengthening foot, a blessing in disguise really. Level 3 came and went, and we all found freedom in Level 2 mk1.
As soon as my work schedule allowed, I jumped on the evening sailing of the Interislander and headed south, destination St Arnaud. The next morning, I woke to a beautiful morning with the sun glistening off Lake Rotoiti. With the morning sun beaming down and not a breath of wind I soon discarded my headphones and preloaded podcasts and enjoyed the solitude and easy-going nature of the walk alongside the Travers to my first rest stop of the John Tait Hut.
One of the first signs of how much snow you’ll encounter up high, is as you turn a corner about 14ish kms into the meander and on the true left of the Travers, The Camel comes into view, a beautifully shaped smaller outlier peak. With just a delicate dusting on top I knew this would be more summer conditions with perhaps a little morning verglas to contend with.
A short stop at John Tait Hut for a brew and a biccy, then off, destination Cupola Hut.
As Hopeless and Cupola came into view, unobstructed by even a single wispy. I was hopeful that the next morning would bring similar conditions.
'The Camel' coming into view from the Travers
The Cupola Hut came quickly, and I was the sole occupant. For those who haven’t been there, on a good day it gives great views of the south face of Mt Hopeless and the impressive Hopeless Couloir, and a little wander out behind the hut gives a great view of Mt Cupola, it also provided me the opportunity to reccy the path id take to my destination of the southwest ridge of Hopeless, which I aimed to take the next morning.
A comfy and reasonably warm night in the hut, a compulsory pressed coffee and a fairly leisurely alpine start from the hut at 7am was the start to the day.
Looking at Mt Hopeless and Hopeless Couloir from Cupola Hut
A relatively straight forward approach to the col between pt. 1989 and the southwest ridge was gained in fairly reasonable time. The ridge itself was a lovely scramble in these conditions, with as expected, only a light dusting of snow and little verglas. There are a few steeper sections and semi-involved in places, that some may choose to pitch if they were not solo. Likewise on the descent there a couple of sections that would benefit from an abseil, however with good conditions these are climbable/down-climbable easy enough if you take your time and look for the path of least resistance, some can be skirted on the northern side.
On the ridge proper my phone that was tucked away in my pocket burst into life and at an opportune moment I took a look. I was presented with the unfortunate news that my grandfather had passed away in a UK rest home due to complications bought on my the Covid19 virus. A sad moment but a great opportunity to pause, enjoy the solitude and think of him.
Loving the cloud inversions from on top.
As the summit was reached, I spent a while longer than I normally would appreciating where I was, the fragility of life, the lucky position we are here in NZ whilst covid runs rampant in other places, and remembering my Grandfather…aswell as taking time to enjoy another brew and biccy.
As hoped the previous day, today presented the same conditions and I had unobstructed outstanding 360 views from the summit.
The descent along the south west ridge is as described fairly involved at some spots so don’t expect a massively rapid descent until lower on the ridge. That said, I made quick time on the descent, after reaching the Cupola Hut, a quick brew and biccy, I pressed on to John Tait.
A colder but comfy night at John Tait, another brew and a biccy and a sunny meander on the fairly long walk back to the car park at the end of Lake Rotoiti was a lovely culmination of a great few days of total isolation, a lovey summit and a fitting way to remember Grandad.
A comfy and reasonably warm night in the hut, a compulsory pressed coffee and a fairly leisurely alpine start from the hut at 7am was the start to the day.
Looking at Mt Hopeless and Hopeless Couloir from Cupola HutA relatively straight forward approach to the col between pt. 1989 and the southwest ridge was gained in fairly reasonable time. The ridge itself was a lovely scramble in these conditions, with as expected, only a light dusting of snow and little verglas. There are a few steeper sections and semi-involved in places, that some may choose to pitch if they were not solo. Likewise on the descent there a couple of sections that would benefit from an abseil, however with good conditions these are climbable/down-climbable easy enough if you take your time and look for the path of least resistance, some can be skirted on the northern side.
On the ridge proper my phone that was tucked away in my pocket burst into life and at an opportune moment I took a look. I was presented with the unfortunate news that my grandfather had passed away in a UK rest home due to complications bought on my the Covid19 virus. A sad moment but a great opportunity to pause, enjoy the solitude and think of him.
Loving the cloud inversions from on top.
As the summit was reached, I spent a while longer than I normally would appreciating where I was, the fragility of life, the lucky position we are here in NZ whilst covid runs rampant in other places, and remembering my Grandfather…aswell as taking time to enjoy another brew and biccy.
As hoped the previous day, today presented the same conditions and I had unobstructed outstanding 360 views from the summit.
The descent along the south west ridge is as described fairly involved at some spots so don’t expect a massively rapid descent until lower on the ridge. That said, I made quick time on the descent, after reaching the Cupola Hut, a quick brew and biccy, I pressed on to John Tait.
A colder but comfy night at John Tait, another brew and a biccy and a sunny meander on the fairly long walk back to the car park at the end of Lake Rotoiti was a lovely culmination of a great few days of total isolation, a lovey summit and a fitting way to remember Grandad.
Vertigo
