Mt Somers

On October 2nd Andrew and I drove North to Mount Somers, which is a conservation area about 50 miles due West of Christchurch. After a three hour hike through lush forests we emerged into the upper valley and stopped at the hut there to dump our camping supplies and sort out the climbing gear. We then turned off the main trail and hiked up to the rock faces above us. Mount Somers has some unique geology that should probably be described with fancy words, but I don't know those words. Let's just say there are dozens of curved ridges of vertical rock separated by thin cracks, all reaching upwards for hundreds of feet. We hiked to a section of rock sporting some of the easier routes and got set up for what was to be my first traditional lead climb. I've been leading sport climbs for about a year now, but I've never placed my own protection before. Andrew gave me some pointers on gear placement as I loaded cams and nuts onto my harness, then it was go time. The route followed an irregular crack up a pretty mellow face, so I felt quite confident as I worked my way upwards. I would stop about every six to ten feet search the crack for an appropriate spot to place gear. This is a fine art which requires a lot of practice and experience, both of which I was sorely lacking, but everyone's gotta start somewhere. I thought my placements were pretty good, though, and after a few minutes of climbing and fixing gear I was at the top. Andrew then followed me up and scrutinized my work. Out of the seven cams and nuts I had put in the rock, he only gave his full confidence to two of them. Another four would probably hold a fall, he thought, and one was deemed altogether unsafe. So yeah, my first trad lead was successful in that I didn't fall, but my gear placement needed more work. Regardless, this was a big step in my climbing career.

We repeated the process up a slightly harder route nearby, and this time Andrew gave the thumbs up to most of my gear placements. We moved on to a more difficult trad pitch, with Andrew leading, then hiked down the hill to some massive boulders for a bit of sport climbing as the sun began to set behind the snow-capped mountains.


After a restful night at the hut we awoke to cloudy skies and hiked to an area to the right of the waterfall in the top picture. There we did a few trad and mixed trad/sport climbs that were fairly difficult and super fun. One in particular earned the three stars given to it in the guide book, as it had some tricky and interesting moves that forced you to really concentrate, but every time you pulled through something tough there would be a nice ledge to stop and rest on. Plus, we were climbing right next to a really tall waterfall, and whenever the wind shifted a bit you'd get little sprays of water in your face. After a great morning on the rock it was time to hit the trail, so we cruised back down the mountain to the carpark, stopping once to take a dip in the river. Andrew then drove me fifty miles North to the main road heading West. We had a snack of meat pies and ice cream, then it was time to say goodbye. I felt kinda sad to be leaving the best friend I made in New Zealand, but I'm sure our paths will cross again some day. I waved as Andrew's car pulled away and disappeared down the road, then stuck out my thumb for a ride to the West coast. After waiting about twenty minutes a University professor named Peter picked me up in a tiny yellow car that was at least ten years older than me. We spent the next three hours chatting about life as the car slowly climbed up and over Arthur's Pass in a blinding rainstorm. Upon reaching the West coast we cruised North a few kilometers to the city of Greymouth, then met up with Peter's brother for a beer. After they took off I ended up partying with some crazy Danish girls with a penchant for snuff tobacco until crashing out at the nearest hostel.