3/1/2020 - 4/1/2020
Party: Conor Vaessen, Olivia Truax, Tom Hadley
Homer hut lies in the Hollyford valley in Fiordland, surrounded by the steepest granite faces which rear out of dense forest and tower skyward. During the 2020 New Years spent at Homer hut, Conor Vaessen, Olivia Truax and I (Tom Hadley) got stuck into the granite by heading up Moirs mate for some alpine rock climbing. The objective for the first day was a 7 pitch, grade 20 climb called Lucky Strike.
The day began with a steep scramble through boulders to gain the Homer Ridge. Up on the ridge we began the airy and exposed approach. For the first section, the way forward was to cheval; placing the ridge between your legs, riding the granite knife edge like a horse and shuffling forward, constantly aware of the 500m of freefall that would eventuate with a fall either side. The stoke levels mounted as we began to climb. Conor was leading the first grade 20 pitch, flowing through the tenuous moves with confidence. Olivia and I climbed after him, Olivia made easy work of the crimpy handholds and smeary feet. As we climbed we looked down to carefully plant the toe tip of our climbing shoes onto the smallest dimples in the granite, not focusing on the eerie exposure afforded by the plummeting wall of dark granite stretching down hundreds of metres to the valley floor. The climbing was a tenuous push to the top, where the freezing buffets of wind carrying flurries of snow truly reminded us of the alpine environment we were climbing in. Having ticked off the last pitch of climbing we began the long descent to Homer hut, stoked with an epic day of climbing.
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| The ridge looking towards Moir's mate (Tom Hadley) |
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| Tom and Olivia on pitch 2 of Lucky Strike (Conor Vaessen) |
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| Olivia topping out one of the pitches on Lucky Strike (Conor Vaessen) |
The next day, Olivia and I returned to the mate for a second day of granite excitement. The approach scramble was coated in a soft layer of snow which quickly disappeared with the rising sun. The objective today was the classic alpine rock climbing route called Bowen Allan corner, a grade 17 trad multi pitch stretching 8 pitches (60m rope lengths) to the summit. I began leading the first grade 16 pitch. I climbed move after exciting move, pausing only to insert protection in the form of nuts and cams into the cracks in the rock in order to catch any falls. I arrived at the final tricky section up to the anchor at the end of the pitch, a hairline crack, fingertip wide, through the middle of a blank face of black granite. I took the smallest nut from my harness, a BD micro about the size of a pumpkin seed and slid it into the crack, yanking downwards to set the small bit of metal. Then I looked up, committing myself to a short but tenuous series of moves to a jug hold at the top which I could haul myself onto the flat ledge with. I reached up, forcing my fingers into the tiny crack, twisting my hand to jam them in the granite, then smeared my feet on the textured face. A few more moves and I saw the jug, reached for it, pulled hard, somewhat relieved to make it to security. Then a terrible crunch as the man sized block I was pulling on wrenched out of the wall. The rock and I were thrown backwards. Everything slow and fast at the same time, granite and bush, hundreds of metres below became a blur of motion as I fell headfirst. Fuck I hope that nut holds. The nut held. I hit the wall pretty hard but was OK. I looked down at Olivia, considering the scary consequences if she had been below the rockfall. I shakily placed a back up piece and quickly lowered back down to the ledge. After stress eating my way through three bagels, we concluded that shit happens. All the gear in place to protect us worked perfectly, but we decided to pack up and go back to home sweet Homer. I belayed Olivia as she climbed the pitch, climbing through the moves confidently. Olivia opted to traverse around the direct line I’d climbed to the anchor. After rapping down we packed up our gear. Bowen Allan corner could wait for another day.
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| Tom stoked with pitch 0.75 of Bowen Allen Corner (Olivia Truax) |
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