First descent 17 April 2007 Gavin, Mike and the trip report author… Franz Josef Glacier Guides
Consider this trip report in the context of glacial recession: getting to Castle Rocks Hut would be most practical in a helicopter…… The grade is a guess, based off the words below. The trip report’s author wasn’t recorded: let us know if you know who it was…
Glacier Guides on their days off…..
The Franz Josef Glacier was my workplace and playground for 2007. Every day we walked past a waterfall called Arthurs Cataract. The catchment starts under Lemmer Peak (1800m) on the Fritz Range and spills down to the Franz Josef Glacier via an alpine stream moving into a series of near vertical cascades finishing on the ice at 400m above sea level. Some of the guides tell tourists that the waterfall is the same height as the Nevis Bungy in Queenstown (134m). We all know the falls are much larger but as both guides and entertainers the truth doesn’t always not stop a good story. Days of staring up at the falls made a few of us keen for a closer look. A canyoning style descent came to mind….
Tuesday the 17th of April was the day. We met at Castle Rocks Hut on the evening of the 16th. Gavin and Mike had work that day and made a post work bash up to the hut in the dark arriving late at night. I had arrived earlier in the day with perhaps the heaviest pack I have ever carried, thankfully assisted by the mechanical birds at the helicopter line. Our hefty equipment stocks included a 15kg petrol hammer drill along with 25 bolts and hangers, 2x 60m ropes, 2x 50m ropes, 60m of assorted retired rope and sling plus the usual hardware, safety, sleeping and cooking equipment.
The next morning dawned dry but heavily overcast and we left hut at the leisurely hour of 8am. Perhaps earlier would have been wise. Hindsight. I had scouted the access the day before and we quickly climbed and descended 200m into the upper catchment. We were perhaps on virgin ground and left cairns along the way to mark our territory. At 1150m we came to the first steep section and placed the first anchor. We were buzzing as we pulled that first absail rope knowing there was now only one way home. This was commitment.
The next four absails were a pleasure as rolling cascades of polished schist were broken by large palatial ledges. We got occasional views through the clag to the ice and the hiking groups below and got a sense of just how high we were. The 5th absail took us over the first truly vertical section and we became aquainted with the joys of placing bolts on absail and the hanging changeovers. On the 6th absail we were forced into the full force of the main flow. It was like being in a hailstorm and the power of the water surprised us all. Mike had an epic. The force of the water tipped him face up and he wore the full flow on his front. Struggling to breathe he recalls simply feeding rope through the ATC as fast as possible until he hit the ground totally disoriented. We were all shivering hard, perhaps summer would be a better time of year? It was here that the seriousness of the undertaking hit home. Excitement largely became nervous tension and straight fear. The altimeter read 925m, the time was 3:25pm. We had 2.5 hours of light, 11 bolts left and about 500m still to drop down the steepest part of the falls. I tried to restart the now saturated drill while Mike and Gavin came down to join me. Ten minutes of trying produced no joy. Our backup plan was to sling rocks and trees wherever possible to conserve precious bolts but the compact schist and maingy shrubs provided no suitable anchors. Our final resort of tying all four ropes together and absailing on a single strand would still leave us over 200m off the deck. We needed the drill to work. We discussed weather a Westpac winch rescue was even possible in the shallow but confined canyon. If there was a way out we would have taken it. We were short on bolts and our only drill was not going. We were never going to fall off the face but getting stuck at the end of a rope or on a small ledge was a distinct possibility. We were glad to have one of the guides radios, help would come but it could be a while.
I went back to the wet drill and tried for another few minutes. Suddenly the drowned drill roared back to life, I guess the water had been worked out of the system. We were back on. Bolt stocks were very low so we made the choice to absail off single bolts from then on. We take lead falls on bolts all the time and they never come out… right… and we were only absailing, static loads only. Despite the massive margin of strength of the 20 kN bolts, it just felt wrong. At 6pm we stepped out onto the main face. A 400m sweep of schist straight to the glacier. I felt the strongest sense of exposure I ever have. The gap beneath my feet was almost sickening to look at. We used our precious last minutes of light to pick a line that would stay clear of the waterfall. We had 9 bolts, each of which could drop us 60m if it was vertical so about 50 on the off vertical slabs. That meant we could drop a total of 450m, surely enough to get us within range of our 220m super rope. $2000 worth of rope would have been happily sacrificed.
I had the sharp end of the rope, the drill and the precious remaining bolts. Being the first down was great. Instead of shivering and waiting at the top I was busy. Setting the route, choosing the anchor position, coaxing the drill to life and feeling the reassuring bite of the expanding collar on the 10mm expansion bolts, I was in control. Being the first down was horrible. I was living in the tiny halo of head torch light in a vertical world of cold rock. The glacier reflected faintly far below. I was cold, lonely and scared. I held all our remaining bolts in my hands, one fumble and we were spending the night on the face.
We all had our moments of enduring positivity mixed with disbelief at how commited we had become and how slim our margins were. Four absails down the face I announced to the others that we were going home tonight. We were surely within 200m of the ice and all the remained was to see just how much rope would be left as a memorial. I handed the sharp end to Gavin and our 3 remaining bolts. We dropped another 2 pitches and began placing our last bolt. Our headlamps were casting light onto the ice surely less than 60m away. All we needed was for this bolt to bite properly. 2 of the previous 24 bolts had not bitten and been lost. The bolt was good and we were home. No bolts to spare but with all 4 ropes intact. We reached the ice at 404m above sea level at 34 minutes after midnight.
Celebration was muted. We were cold, hungry and tired. Abseiling is not physically demanding but we were mentally drained. The 90 minute walk to the carpark was not a time of reflaction or deep thought, thoughts were of food and bed and just how we would get through work tomorrow.
The Vital Statistics: 15 absails, 25 bolts, 960m descended, 650m by absail. 17 hours. We are talking about going back next summer and adding the extra bolts. Whats the next bad idea? Jumping off the Otira Viaduct sounds like fun.