Jenn's Adventures: New Zealand Part 1

I suppose it’s safe to say this trip to New Zealand had its proverbial roots in my last visit there three years prior when Kristin and I journeyed the length and breadth of the North and South Islands on a working holiday visa. During our trek, as fate would have it, Kristin and I met Matt at a pub trivia game in Queenstown and three years later they announced their engagement. They would be getting married in Queenstown on May 7, 2011, thus bringing the original trip full circle and me back to the land of the long white cloud to share in the joys of the wedding. The wedding, combined with the stunning natural beauties of New Zealand and the abundance of amazing climbing there resulted in a collusion of minds between myself and long time pals and climbing partners, Bill and Matt, as we ironed out the details for a two week climbing trip across the South Island to end with what promised to be the grand event of Kristin and Matt’s wedding. Along the way our group of three turned into a group of four as Matt himself discovered romance on the ice (he had been working in Antarctica in the months leading up to the New Zealand trip) and his girlfriend and fellow climber, Jamie, became as a member and co-conspirator on our little escapade.

Our trip commenced in Christchurch where we enjoyed the warm hospitality of my dear friends, Kay and Jaron, who have come to my rescue more than once in my journeys through New Zealand! On that first beautiful, sunny day Bill, Jamie, Jaron and I explored the sights of the Banks Peninsula and Akaroa, a historic and picturesque French and British settlement. That evening the whole crew got together, Matt, Jamie, Bill, Jaron, Kay, Lisa, Ben and myself, and we had quite the plentiful and tasty BBQ washed down with heaps of beer and wine. At one point the libations perhaps temporarily distracted our erstwhile grill master, Jaron, who could be seen busily beating down the head high flames that were merrily leaping over the grill! I am happy to report that both Jaron and the meat survived in fine form! After a solid night of sleep and a hearty breakfast of coffee and porridge we set out on our climbing adventure the following morning.

On our way north to the limestone cliffs of Payne’s Ford, our first climbing destination, we paused for some sightseeing and lunch in Kaikoura where we sampled the famous Hine’s Takeaway fish n’ chips, yum! We also had the pleasure of stopping at a “secret” spot Matt and Tim had discovered on their previous trip to New Zealand and watched the hilarious antics of baby seals swimming, jumping and playing all along a small stream that led to a large pool at the base of a waterfall where even more pups were frolicking...the scene was almost surreal and like nothing I’d experienced before. Buckling down for a few long hours of driving we finally arrived at Hang Dog Camp in Payne’s Ford. We hastily set up our tents and headed into Takaka, the colorful, free-spirited local town, to grab a curry dinner at The Wholemeal Café. The following morning I was able to try out my shiny new Jetboil stove for breakfast…yep, it boils water in a flash so coffee was flowing into everyone’s cups in a jiff and it even did an admirable job cooking oatmeal, well, neglecting the bits that got incinerated to the bottom of the “pot” and the boiling over the top incident which was probably more operator error (read me being overzealous with my oatmeal making) than anything. Bill was the morning’s hero as he somehow managed to scrub up the whole lot so that it almost resembled new! Thus fortified we set out to climb…

We found an area with a number of routes to warm-up on, I use warm-up loosely here as Bill and I opted (ok, it was probably more my fault) to start right off on what I think were 5. 10’s. Now, let me preface this by saying I hadn’t been on rope in almost nine months, having spent almost all my time bouldering, and the last time I had been on rope was at Kentucky’s Red River Gorge, known for its steep, overhanging, powerful/endurance lines. Now here I was, suddenly working my way on lead up a technical, vertical to slightly slabby route on crap feet and thin hands, freaking myself out a whopping two feet above the last bolt, thinking to myself “I used to LIKE rope climbing?!” And yep, if you’re wondering, I managed to take my first falls of the trip on that very first lead…guess you gotta get them out of the way sometime…the sooner the better? Yeah, let’s go with that. Luckily, after a couple climbs the majority of kinks worked themselves out; I stopped flailing and started enjoying the sport climbing game again. That is until we decided to attempt a series of climbs that had to be done from a hanging belay, off a tiny ledge that you first had to climb up to, then traverse across to reach your chosen anchor. Mad kudos to Jamie for leading the technical slab section up to the ledge as well as setting up the traverse! So following Jamie up, here we are, clipped in with our respective partners on this “ledge” with about as much room to move as a neatly trussed pig on a spit, Bill trying to give me a crash course on rope management, and trying to tick a couple more climbs off before the sun set. It’s Bill’s turn to lead so up he goes leaving me to my rope wrangling devices. No problems, I clean the route and we move down the line to the next set of anchors and the next route. We get all situated and I start checking out the opening moves of the climb. I look at the holds, or should I say lack thereof, then I turn to look at Bill, feel holds, look at Bill…who is tethered directly below my fall zone should I peel before I make the first clip with no room to get out of my way. Now anyone who’s climbed with me knows I do not fall in the most predictable, tidy way possible, I more resemble a cart wheeling pinwheel loosed from its anchor haphazardly rushing groundward. Studying the moves up to the first bolt I had visions of careening wildly off the wall, smashing down directly on Bills head a flailing mass of arms, legs, draws and other various gear, resulting in severe bodily injury to both of us. Matt, realizing the problem on his rap down from the next route over, wisely decides a trip to the ER this early in the trip is not advisable and clips the first bolt for me. Feeling better now that Bill is safe from my flailing tendencies I proceed up the most thin, technical climb I’ve been up in a long time, but somehow pull off the onsight. All members of the team in one piece the routes are subsequently cleaned and we rap off the ledge as dusk descends. We then head into town for some congratulatory beer and pizza from Dangerous Kitchen.

Day two dawns at Hang Dog Camp and we are all eager to get back to the rock and climb! The first day issues (mostly) worked out we have an awesome day on some fun and classic lines! Bill gets the days style points for pulling off one of the most desperate, terrifying looking, no feet, cross-over lunges I’ve ever seen on a route (because he didn’t like my beta) and somehow holding on! After a full and glorious day of climbing we hit the road hoping to get a good chunk of driving done towards our next destination…Castle Hill. We drove all the way to Westport where we opted for the luxury of a hostel, Bill’s first night in such an establishment, ever. I was mightily amused when I learned that Bill, having no soap but desperate for a shower, apparently washed and shampooed with shaving cream because “at least it was something with a scent.” Grinning, I offered him my soap and he proceeded to get a proper wash-up the following morning.

As fate would have it the weather gods turned against us that morning and we awoke to grey, dreary, rainy skies. We made the most of our trip down the west coast though, stopping and exploring Pancake Rocks and Punakaiki Cavern before continuing our trip through Arthur’s Pass and Castle Hill. Alas, our hopes that the weather would clear on the eastern side of the Pass were drowned in the puddles that lay on the road, still rippling with falling rain drops as we sadly drove past a very wet Castle Hill. After much debate over a couple pints and a dismal local weather report at a bar in the small town of Springfield, it was decided we would stop for the night and the next day proceed to Queenstown where we would have a dry place to stay with Kristin and plenty of climbing opportunities within striking distance should the weather allow.