From: Glen Young [mailto:unipogocycle@hotmail.com]
Sent: Tuesday, April 25, 2006 1:40 AM
Subject: Mountaineering

Of all sports, mountaineering has got to be the stupidest. Let's describe the sport:

First, locate one or two fit, adventure seeking individuals with whom you would not mind being crammed into confined spaces with for long uncomfortable periods. So far so good. Next, spend lots of money. This could be spent on orienteering gadgets and beeping safety things, but mostly it should be spent on really heavy or really sharp things (or a combination thereof) that you will strap to your body before ascending incredibly long and steep slopes. Don't forget to check the weather report so you know just how stupid you are before you set off into the mountains, and review your technical rope skills that- until now- have been used to amuse (bore) friends at parties. Now you are ready- and you're off.

As a beginning mountaineer, I did what most mountaineers do. I picked the biggest mountains with the most avalanches, crevasses, icefall, and other hazzards. That meant that my trip took place in Mt. Cook National Park- home of the tallest peak in the country (Mt. Cook), and of the largest glacier as well (the Tasman Glacier). Now I may be a mountaineer, but I'm not stupid (an oxymoron perhaps). I chose to climb smaller peaks of about 3,000 meters rather than Mt. Cook itself at just over 3,700 m. This would be a fine way to spend my Easter vacation.

The first two days of the trip were wonderful. My two climbing partners (Ben and Mark) and I woke at 4:30am, put on our heavy sharp things and a bunch of other heavy things to be carried on our backs, and trudged over snow bridges covering gaping holes in the glacier. Occassionally a leg would punch through a snow bridge into the abyse, and we would remark how intelligent we were for knowing how to properly carry heavy sharp things over big holes, and we would begin to ascend one of several windswept ridges. The sun would come up, and we could hear avalanches booming in the distance. Again we would remark on the level of our intelligence for choosing to climb a ridge rather than a face, and having all the appropriate avalanche safety gear (a probe, a shovel, and a beepy thing- now that's safety). You see, we may choose to do incredibly stupid things in dangerous places, but at least we have the knowhow to do stupid things in an intelligent way. We huffed and puffed our way up the ridge, using our pointy feet things to bite into the ice-crusted snow, until we reached the top of the really big chunk of rock. It was here that we engaged in a ritual of staring blankly into the distance, snapping photographs of ourselves, and pretending to have accomplished something worthwhile. Then we climbed back down the big rock- usually via the same route we came up, and trudged back to the hut to sleep and eat and think about the next big piece of rock we could carry heavy sharp things up.

And then there were the other four days of the trip, which is where mountaineering gets really fun. They consisted of sleeping under a rock in a storm (you're not good friends unless you can all share the same sleeping bag!), climbing crumbly slopes at night in the rain, crossing ice cold rivers, and walking through knee deep snowcone slush while walking the entire length of NZ's longest glacier for 15 hours. Let's not forget the comfortable night in a hut with winds gently wisping at 160km/hr, cracking windows, and blowing crossbeams off ground supports. The walking was done, of course, while carrying all of our heavy sharp things- now wet and even heavier.

Ahh, what a wonderful sport. And oh the good memories. The smell of sweat, the sound of cursing in the wind, and the taste of old, cold oatmeal. Already I'm thinking about the next dangerous chunk of rock I can haul heavy sharp things up. It's just too bad it costs so much. Just think- if someone handed you a thousand dollars wouldn't you want to use it to trudge up a dangerous piece of rock carrying heavy sharp things, sleep under a rock in the wind and rain, and eat terrible food? I thought so. A perfect vacation.

Cheers,

Glen