My second day in the Darrans lined up to be another big one, our little excursion would cost Andy and I 11 hours of continuous activity. Still recovering from the previous day’s adventure, we had a late start arriving at the base for the beginning of one of NZ’s esteemed multi-pitch climbs, Lucky Strike, around 10 in the morning. The duo who we met yesterday had a 90 minute head start on us and with no map or route description we had the task of navigation with only brief excerpts from others who had done their pilgrimage. The walk-in was an identical entry to that of the McPherson/Talbot traverse, walking up the steep scree to Homer saddle but turning left instead to heading for the North face of Moir, aptly named Moir’s Mate. We had wisened up on our second trip up the gully to the saddle and found a vague path marked with huge cairns (unsure of how we missed them the previous day) to provide a slightly easier path up to the saddle.
Andy, being the more experienced and fitter of the two of us, cruised up ahead while I trudged up about 10 minute behind him. Upon reaching the saddle, I heard Andy call out from a crack into the wall.
“What are you doing?”
“Being led through a cave by a kid”
I quickly went to put down my bag to alleviate my confusion of the situation and followed through the cave, a body sized slit in the rock which I had to shuffle through, getting stuck in a constriction with half my body on one side and the other half on the other. After hearing another voice telling me to go through another hole in the blockage, I pulled myself back to the entrance of the constriction, turned around to see a kid (who mustn’t have been more than six years old) behind me and his dad at the entrance of the crack. Reorienting myself, I had a second attempt at the lower aperture this time feet first and found myself successfully pass the obstruction. It was then a short scramble through the exit of the cave and upon exiting just being astounded at the general bad-assery of this six year old boy.
From the saddle, we could spot two specks which were presumably Emily and Frankie at the base of the climb. After a short food break, consisting of some bars, we started the ridge line traverse to the base of Moir’s Mate. At one point, we encountered the most exposed knife-edge ridge I have ever done with a sheer drop on either side of the ridge to certain death. Using my practiced technique of straddling (from the previous day’s ascent you dirty fool), I edged across uncomfortably for the five or so metres to a friendlier ledge.
Hours of scrambling up and down loose rock, route-finding and following cairns later we found ourselves at the base of the climb;
luckily demarcated by the bags of the earlier duo, eliminating the kerfuffle of having to find the route start with no description (yay for late start advantages).
We played with the thought of catching up with them as a joke as they must have been at least three pitches ahead and we were just gearing up.
Andy started our multi-pitch adventure on an easy scramble start, linking the first two pitches together to the ropes terminal lengths, resulting in a short simul-climb to the play for pitch three. Once that was set, I raced up the two linked pitches, we had a quick changeover of gear and I was off on the mixed 18. With bolts where you needed them, the high quality of the diorite after having a day of drying was sharp and sticky and led to an enjoyable climb (a little less enjoyable for me as I was knackered from the previous day).
After doing three straight pitches, I reached the belay for pitch four, quickly building my quad anchor and getting Andy up with gear already pre-arranged (for his imminent arrival) on my safety in size order for a quick changeover as Andy joined me on my little ledge over a kilometre off the ground. The alpine pair were in sight now and we were catching up (surprisingly) and the joke was becoming more and more of a reality. Two more pitches of efficient climbing (the most efficient I’ve climbed), management and fast changeovers and we found ourselves at the same belay as the other two who were completing a pitch which was run out to the anchors. The others seemed surprise we had caught up to them and it was rather satisfying to prove that we weren’t the scrubs (or not as much) that we seemed after our performance on Talbot yesterday.
We decided to begin our descent in consideration of the quickly diminishing light and started up setting double length rappels. We must have done four rappels to just reach a ledge at the base before packing up all our gear for the slog back to base, crossing the knife-edge a fear that plagued my mind. Putting our heads down, we trekked back to saddle and I traversed the knife-edge in a faster fashion with my hands (instead of the straddle) with little energy to care for the consequences. We reached the saddle just at sunset and headed down back to the hut in the dark while Andy sped off in front of me.
It was not long before I lost sight of the faint light which was Andy’s head torch and I had the task of finding the way back by myself. After coming across some creepy looking boulders and sights I didn’t recognise, I found myself suddenly knee high in bushes while I went in a straight line to a reflective marker on the road. Annoyed and tired, I spotted lights in the distance at what I presumed to be the car park and made my way through what was so far away from the actual track to meet up with Ellen and Andy again and we drove back to Homer Hut for a well prepared curry before I went to die in bed.