ALPINE CLIMBING IN NEW ZEALAND
DECEMBER 2002
Lake Pukaki, before the turnoff to Mt Cook National Park.  The lake is that surreal azure blue from glacial melt sediments. 
Tasman Saddle Hut,, situated atmospherically on the edge of a several hundred foot cliff.  These huts need to be built in locations where they will not be damaged by the shifting of the glaciers. 
Mt Darwin, as seen from Tasman Saddle Hut.  Good sized avalanches would pummel this face quite regularly--a sobering sight. 
Rock climbing in plastic mountain boots is really not much fun.  Here we were killing time until the ski plane came to pick us up.
High on Moonshine Buttress, a fun 8 pitch 5.7 rock route. 
Stu on the summit of Moonshine Buttress, Mt Barnicoat and the Fox Glacier in the background.
Me on the summit.
Moonshine Buttress from the Fox Glacier.  The route starts to the left of the prow, then moves up the obvious groove in the center, onto the headwall and the summit.
Descending the Fox Glacier to Chancellor Hut. 
White ice near Chancellor Hut.
I spent three weeks in December 2002 alpine climbing in the Mt Cook region.  This was my first foray onto snow and ice, and "real mountains".  While summit-wise the trip was not a roaring success (due mostly to the atrocious weather), I learned quite a bit about climbing and surviving in the mountains.  Alpine climbing is definitely the most intense and rewarding experience to be found in all of climbing.  However it is also the most dangerous--your survival depends not only on skill, judgement and experience, but also a fair bit of blind luck.   Nevertheless I am hooked on alpine thrills and am quite keen to return to the mountains in the near future. 
Chancellor Hut, where we were eventually picked up by a chopper and flown out to Fox Glacier. 
JJ and Brandon, chillin waiting for the fog to clear so "Mr Grumpy" can fly in and pick us up. 
Finally the weather cleared enough so that we could get picked up. 
This was both mine and Stu's first time in a chopper, so we got to sit in the front seat. 
Swinging bridge during the approach to the Footstool.
The Footstool from Sefton Bivy. 
Sefton Biv.  The approach turned into a grueling race as it became apparent that there wasn't going to be space for everybody in the bivy.  Luckily I managed to push hard and get there first, securing me and James a place.  Overall the hut is supposed to hold 4, but we squeezed 5 in there.  The other 6 (!!) people  had to sleep outside.
On the Couloir Route (E. face) of the Footstool.  We made the critical mistake of leaving too late (3 AM)  for this climb.  By the time we got on it the sun had started to melt it out (we hadn't had a decent freeze the night before either), unleashing rockfall volleys onto us and turning the snow to mush. 

We simul soloed the first half of the route before roping up.  Belays were more psychological than anything because I doubt the snow stake anchors we had would have held in the soft mush.  Once we had topped out on the ridge, out of the firing range of the rockfall, me and James were able to breathe a collective sigh of relief.  The descent proved to be equally hairball -- including complex navigation, rappelling over crevasses and downclimbing unconsolidated snow, which required kick stepping into the mud/rock layer underneath to find purchase. 
Alpine climbing's too scary, I want to go home.