Thoughts from a sunny mountaintop
The sun was beating down from a royal blue sky, and a gentle breeze stirred the tussocks. I’d wandered up Avalanche Peak earlier in the morning, flying down from a little way below the summit with a lightweight paraglider. I was still fizzing with energy when I landed, and it was only mid-morning. The rest of that perfect alpine day was too good to waste.
Well, the Otira Valley seemed like a good destination for a mid-day jog. I pulled on a pair of runners and a long sleeved polypro, drove to the car park, and trotted merrily up the track. To be skipping unencumbered through the rocks and scrub felt wonderful, and the valley seemed alive and fresh. The Mount Cook lilies were in flower, the river was chuckling, and the grey rock walls that cradle the upper reaches of the valley looked warm and inviting. Before long the boulders at the head of the valley were underfoot and I was still going strong – why not scoot up onto Goldney Ridge? Moving so fast and light felt amazingly liberating, and I was having a ton of fun. . . and the little turrets gracing the spine of the ridge provided some pleasant scrambling on sun-warmed rock, patches of soft November snow scrunched underfoot, and – well, having come this far – it was a straightforward shuffle on to the low peak of Rolleston. Wow. Trail running shoes, shorts, a polypro top, and an ear-to-ear grin on the summit.
Mt Rolleston and the upper Otira Valley from Mt Philistine
The view, the solitude, the feeling of freedom, and the pleasure of moving unencumbered in alpine terrain was delicious. The ascent was hardly noteworthy in itself, but the style was a bit cheeky – an apple is an apple, but a kid might prefer the taste of an apple stolen from the orchard down the road to one bought at a supermarket.
Throughout the descent, a million possibilities are bouncing around in my head . . . how about a jog up Mt Philistine in shorts and T shirt on a fine summer day? A Phipps-Temple traverse in trail runners? Could you fit everything you need for an winter ascent of the Crow Face into a running vest? How fast could you climb Mt Aspiring from Raspberry Flat, if you were really fit and pared back your gear to the barest minimum? A one-day GT on Aoraki/Mt Cook from the village?
I’m back at the Otira car park in two hours plus a good bit of change. What an awesome day, what a hoot. I’ve had a little taste of what I can do on a whim, and I like it. There’s a subtle shift in the way I look at climbing now.
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Mountain travel justifiably relies on equipment for protection from the vagaries of nature, both mother and human. An excess of technology turns defence from hazards into isolation from the environment and inhibits the freedom of movement that calls us into the Alps. Obviously, the greater the fitness and skill level someone has, the less the need for equipment will be. The paradox is that as equipment is pared back, whatever gear remains becomes more critical. Yet, what happens if we flip the emphasis, and make the resources of the individual the dominant, determining tool in alpine travel? What if we think of an alpinist as less of a mountaineer, more of an athlete? How much can speed, skill, judgement and self-reliance obviate the requirement for gear? How fast and light can you go? What could a bold, fit, competent person achieve – and more to the point, how much fun could they have - if their focus was to move through alpine country as fast and as lightly equipped as they can be?
I don’t know where the limits lie. People such as Dani Arnold, Kilian Jornet and the late Ueli Steck have shown that they can achieve incredible speeds in challenging terrain, but I don’t want a stopwatch to be the measure of my days. I like the freedom that comes from self-reliance, moving fast with the fewest encumbrances, and doing more with less, at my own pace.
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