A few images from the Grampians
Been shooting climbing in The Grampians the last few days — it’s definitely one of the coolest places I’ve ever been to. Here are a few favorites. Stay tuned for a massive update to my rock climbing and adventure sports site, http://www.nathanweltonphoto.com.
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G’day Mate!
G’day! I’m writing this from an apartment overlooking the ocean in Sydney — in fact, I have a straight view to the Sydney Opera House thanks to the generosity of our couchsurfing.com host, Alex. I’ve never couch surfed before, and I’m floored by how nice people are!
We’ve been traveling in New Zealand for the last 10 weeks and have 7 weeks of adventures ahead throughout Australia. I’m busily adding images to my stock photo collection of travel and adventure sports, which is all housed at my other site. Alex introduced us to Sydney on Australia Day, where we saw an amazing fireworks show with a few hundred thousand other folks in the heart of the city. I’m not much of a big city person, but I think Sydney is really cool — maybe even up there with Paris.
At any rate, I figured I needed to update this blog with some new photos from the adventure so far, so here are just a few random shots. These are everywhere from Yosemite National Park to New Zealand. You’ll notice in the first picture there’s actually a climber on the left side of the frame at the same height as the top of the wave. Yikes!
Hope everyone’s having a good 2010 so far. If you’re interested in getting some info about 2010 weddings, shoot me an email! I have a connection every few days, and have even been able to schedule Skype meetings with folks.
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Jumping for Joy Down Under
Happy Holidays everyone!
I’m writing this note from the West Coast of New Zealand, where I’m traveling at the moment in pursuit of beautiful light, great imagery, and an endless summer. It’s been a fun trip so far, and I’m excited to see what’ll happen next. Before I start the busy 2010 wedding season, I’m headed to Australia, Tasmania and Tonga, three places I’ve never been but have always dreamed of visiting.
2009 has been a wild, wild ride. It’s taken me across continents and oceans, and I’ve photographed almost everything imaginable: climbing in France; coral reefs off the coast of Venezuela; landscapes in New Zealand; and weddings in the Virgin Islands, the Bahamas, California wine country, and as far away as Norway. Back in September I added up the days my car had sat at the Denver International Airport parking lot, and was startled to discover the total: nearly 18 weeks. That means I was shooting out of state for about half of the first 9 months of the year. In October I shot weddings in Colorado and California, and climbing in both Zion National Park and Yosemite, and in November I flew to New Zealand. Despite being on the road, I’ve kept busy with new bookings and album designs — and as a cool side note, JenLos’ book, from their Virgin Islands wedding, was picked by Kambara USA as a sample album that the company will bring to trade shows around the country.
It’s been humbling to win awards from the WPJA, it’s been fun to see my shots for Sigma Photo show up in magazine advertisements around the world, and it’s been exciting to grow my studio with the addition of associate photographers (in two different states) and a production manager. Expect to see profiles of Bernd and Chris in upcoming blog posts — we are currently booking them weddings in both California and Colorado, and they do an absolutely rocking job. Both of them have seen it all: Bernd shot a wedding in Vail this year with a reception so bumping that the smoke alarms went off and the Fire Department came, while Chris just recently shot an elopement in Rocky Mountain National Park in the middle of a whiteout. Party on! You’ll love these guys.
I’ve had more fun behind the lens in 2009 than in any other year of my life. It’s been awesome to see the resurgence of break dancing, and I’ve been downright impressed with the all-star partying I’ve encountered at this year’s receptions. Resisting the urge to boogie has been a challenge, especially after watching people bust out award-winning worms, aerial stalls, head spins, and every other dance move invented in the last 40 years. I have realized that I need to learn to break dance. Can someone teach me? It’s also been cool to reconnect with past clients, learn about their lives, and even see their new babies. I love this job.
I’ll try to get a best-of-2009 post up soon, and maybe I’ll put up a few shots of my winter adventure so far. Meanwhile, here’s a shot of me jumping for joy somewhere in countryside in New Zealand, courtesy of Rannveig Aamodt.
Last but not least, please excuse me if I don’t respond to emails immediately. There’s a day or two lag time here, as cell reception is spotty.
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First ad out for the Sigma Our World campaign
Here’s something exciting — my first image is in print for the Sigma Our World advertising campaign I shot in late 2008. This was part of the 2009 corporate calendar, and it features a shot of pro climber Ethan Pringle on Anaconda, a heinous 5.13+ trad line on Lumpy Ridge that’s only seen a handful of ascents.
Ethan hung out in Estes for a few days scouting some lines in the middle of a pretty ridiculous 2008 sending spree. He’s a certifiable badass and one of the world’s best all around climbers. He’s climbed 5.15a sport (Realization), solid 5.14 trad (Cobra Crack), onsighted 5.14, bouldered VImpossible, and, well, you get the picture. He’s super inspiring to watch charge, and he’s a lot of fun to hang out with.
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The Sigma Our World Campaign continues
So a few weeks ago I started shooting the first installment of the Sigma Our World ad campaign. H to the E to the C to the TIC. The first assignment I’m doing is an outdoor sports segment, which focuses heavily on climbing, bouldering and cycling. It’s been waaay fun, as it’s pushed me to get in touch with some incredible climbers. Living near Boulder is pretty sweet since so many world-class athletes are nearby. I wish wish wish I could post some of the images, but I can’t until I have Sigma’s approval. That will happen in due time, so stay tuned. Pretty exciting stuff!!
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The Mouth
Back in Cali kickin it with the crew. Miss it here. Good times, great friends. Toots got his first chance to visit one of our favorite places on earth, the stunning mountaintop boulder field at Lizard’s Mouth, home to the best moderate sandstone bouldering anywhere. And actually thanks to our buddy Bernd, a bunch of new hard lines have gone up in the last year.
Here we are on one of them, an unnamed route overlooking the ocean. We spent sunset here taking pictures.
If you want to know how it’s done, I used a really fast prime lens at f/1.4 coupled with a single flash bouncing off a gold reflector disk. Reflector was pointing up from ground level, flash was triggered via a PocketWizard. Very low ISO (100) allowed me to get the dark blue sky at 125th of a second. It also let me have a very noiseless image. I passed off the camera later on and Bernd grabbed it to take the last two shots, one of Steve and one of me.
Quite possibly the highlight of the day was seeing Alicia’s parents’ chihuahua Rosie wearing Bernd’s kid’s diaper. Finn, Bernd and Hjortis’ little infant, was nice and warm and had a spare diaper. Rosie was freezing and had nothing. So… What happens when you have a spare diaper and a freezing chihuahua? Diaper Dog. It’s was the only solution.
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Rooaaaadd Triiipp!
Yes!
About time! We’ve been meaning to go to Indian Creek and Penitente Canyon for months, and we finally did a few weeks ago. The usual suspects consisted of me and Alicia, Toots, 5 crazy Norwegians (two of whom are good friends we met in New Zealand) and a Canadian guy named Tee, who just started a 6 month climbing trip and is now probably half way to Mexico to hit up El Potrero Chico.
The two Norwegians we already knew are Maja and Terje. Maja is pronounced “Maya,” while Terje is pronounced “Tah-dee-uh,” which is too complicated for me so I call him TJ. So meet Maja (at our campsite), TJ (on Supercrack) and Tee (on Binge and Purge).
TJ works on oil rigs in the middle of the North Sea doing real safe stuff like changing the spouts that spew out all the flames. Not sure exactly why, but he’s looking for a slight career change, and photography is his top choice. I copied my outdoor sports website, spruced it up a little bit, changed the logo and let him use it — check it out: http://www.terjeaamodt.com. For the first time ever, I’m the guy on the other side of the lens. Kind of weird.
Indian Creek was awesome, as usual, and we did all the classics. Supercrack, Incredible Hand Crack, The Wave, Fingers in a Light Socket, etc. For some reason I got the not-so-bright idea to go climb wide cracks, including the Big Baby (100 feet of 5 to 6-inch 5.11c offwidth) and Binge and Purge, another 5.11 with a squeeze chimney that lets you rest only when you inhale. So to move up, you exhale and don’t breathe, and to stop and rest you inhale and don’t breathe. That enables you to get a nice torso jam, but it also makes you want to purge. Not sure where the binge comes from. TJ took the next two shots of my struggles. They were worthwhile, though, because when we got back I finally ticked off the Crack of Fear, an offwidth in Estes that I’ve wanted to climb since I started 10 years ago.
TJ also took this cool shot of Tee on a cool 5.9 near Supercrack. I think he’s got some awesome images. Norway, represent!
Here’s a shot I scored of TJ climbing the Cave Route, a 5.11 lieback that’s hidden behind a giant slab of sandstone that fell down once upon a time. Great place on a hot day.
After a few days of beating ourselves up, we cruised on to Penitente Canyon, in the middle of Colorado’s San Luis Valley. It’s my favorite place to climb, and I’m not sure why. The routes are short, but oh-so-nice and the whole setting is just kind of magical. Even Toots liked it:
It’s home to a lot of super-mega-hyper-awesome classics, including what many consider the best arete in America, Bullet the Blue Sky. Here’s TJ falling on his second try (but he sent on his third, which is stupid fast for a 5.12c).
Then TJ got these awesome shots of me on my faves, and I have to show them off because I’m so excited to have, for the first time in my life, cool pictures of me climbing. First, the infamous Stemmroids, a .12d open book overhung stemming line with an off-balance deadpoint/dyno at the top that I’m about to do. And then my still-undone project, a .13a called Virgin No More that I’ve yet to send because 1) the last move is insanely hard and 2) every time I try it, it starts hailing, raining or snowing. I came —-> <—- THAT close to getting it, but I screwed up my sequence at the top and bailed. Again. The cool thing is that I have to do it again, and the line is superb and the climbing is like a dance. So no worries.
Yay for climbing!
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Eastern Sierra fun
Awesome! I’m shooting an absolutely killer wedding later today in the Eastern Sierra Nevada mountains at this place called Convict Lake, which is just down the road from Mammoth. I flew in a few days ago and have been hanging out with some Norwegians we met in New Zealand, who are wrapping up a year-long jaunt through Thailand, the South Pacific, Canada and America. For the last few days we’ve been waking up, sitting in hot springs, climbing, sitting in hot springs, and then going to sleep. Not a bad life! The other day TJ and I went up to climb one of the most photogenic boulder problems in Bishop, a proud line called Atari that’s shaped like the videogame symbol. I’m psyched with some of the images I captured of him up there. Check it:
Then TJ caught a few pictures of me on some of the other super-mega-classics at the Happies. Ahh. Lovin’ it. Lovin’ it.
Pictures from the wedding will come soon!
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Uberdorks on the Petit Grepon
I’m sure anyone who was hiking around Sky Pond a few Mondays ago would have seen me and my buddy Chris halfway up the Petit Grepon looking like a couple of uberdorks. So if you were out there, yep, that was me up there. The guy in the white tightpants. Actually, Chris didn’t look like an uberdork, but he was guilty by association. Here we are:
The Petit, in contrast to the two of us, is absolutely not uberdorky. It’s one of the classic climbs in North America, according to a book called, “The 50 Classic Climbs of North America.” Imagine that! You’ll have to excuse the terrible photos I’m going to post — I actually don’t own a modern point-n-shoot, so we dug a 7-year-old relic out of the closet.
Anyway, behold! The Petit!
Of the two biggest formations, it’s the one on the left that narrows down to a knifeblade toward the summit. So awesome. We hiked up there at 8 pm the night before so we didn’t have to get up at 3 am, and we slept out beneath the Perseid meteor shower. Check out this defaced photo with the route up the South Face traced in red…
So we woke up at 6 am, ate what should have been called a ‘cherry bomb’ (some sort of cherry custard coffee cake concoction) hiked up to the base, racked up and charged. Mom, you can skip the rest of this paragraph. I got to lead the first pitch, which as you can see went for about 600 feet. We simulclimed to the first belay over pretty easy 5.5 terrain with a few moves of 5.7, which made things go quite fast since we didn’t have to belay each other. Basically we both climbed at the same time on opposite ends of the rope. I still placed gear, but Chris’ bodyweight acted as my belay instead of his hands holding a rope through a belay device. I eventually ran out of gear so I built an anchor and belayed Chris the rest of the way up, where he reracked, and led off. We were both getting worked by the cherry bomb, but no matter. The second bit was sustained 5.8, so we made a real pitch out of it. The last two should have been strung together as a long simulclimbing pitch, but it wandered too much and the rope drag was a pain. But we were still at the top by 8 am. Pretty cool way to start the day.
Observe the uberdork on the way to the summit and on the summit:
What makes the Petit Grepon so rad is its last pitch and its summit. As you climb up that last section, you eventually find yourself on the knifeblade. It’s about 8 feet wide or so. On your right is a not-so-steep 5.7 face that goes 900 feet to the ground. On your left is a vertiginous, overhung valley that’s another 900 feet straight down. Like, if you dropped a pebble off , it wouldn’t hit the wall on the way down. Then you top out onto this little itty bitty summit that’s no bigger than a minivan, and it overlooks a lot of stuff up there. Way cool. You can see us waving at our shadows in the next pic, and then you can see me rapping off. It’s 4? 5? 6? I forgot double-rope raps all the way to the ground. Couldn’t be easier. Up and down by 9 am. Is verrry niicce!
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Mother of all rope swings
Here’s a crazy shot I just came across while organizing my Web site. I shot a Montana wedding last summer at the Holland Lake Lodge, which is on Holland Lake outside of Missoula. Really cool place, really beautiful setting. The lodge is on a tiny little peninsula jutting out into this serene, gorgeous lake. Check out the portfolio link to see what it was like. Highly highly recommended place to get married.
Anyway, the wedding was one those really fun weekend-long things. During the weekend, everyone discovered the mother of all rope swings. I got a bunch of rad shots of everyone on it, and here’s a shot that someone took of me on it… I know, I was working and playing. Sorry! Don’t tell anyone. I think I was about 35 or 40 feet up in the air.
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New Routing in Wanaka
Okay, this is pretty rad. We stayed at a friend of a friend’s house in Wanaka for about a week, and part way through our visit, Ben decided to let us in on a little secret.
Way up on a hill above a river he’d discovered a huge crag that he was trying to develop. The Wanaka Rock Climbing Club has a battery-powered rotary hammer drill that anyone can borrow, so he’d been going up there bolting new sport climbs. One day while he was walking around and scoping his new crag, he found a giant hole in the ground — a hole 100 feet deep, 15 feet wide and maybe 40 feet long. The dimensions at the top of it are the same as the dimensions at the bottom, and the walls are completely sheer. It probably was formed by a giant earthquake. It’s a crazy fractured chasm; one side is completely overhung and the other is a blank slab. In the middle is a sharp, aesthetic arete that looks completely unclimbable from above.
So Ben took us to this hole and we were astounded. We stared awestruck at the arete wondering if it would go. We figured it was possible, but damn hard. Maybe 5.14 or so. There didn’t seem to be any holds, but we had to take a closer look. Since we couldn’t figure out how to get to the bottom of pit, we installed a rappel anchor on the side of it and threw a rope down, eyeballing and cleaning an easy line adjacent to the arete. Since the hole is so deep, steep and narrow, we actually couldn’t even see the bottom. I rapped in first and wondered if I was the first human ever to set foot down there. As I descended, I encountered walls carpeted with mosses, ferns, lichens and molds. It was nuts. The bottom was dank, wet and really green, and it was blanketed in a 2-foot-deep layer of peat. Waaaaaaaayyy cool. I eyeballed that arete, and to my surprise there actually were holds. Maybe that line could go. Maybe. But I still figured it would be at least 5.13. Hmm.
Next we put a few bolts on the top of the arete and rappelled down that with hammers and a brush. We scrubbed off lichens on the key holds and broke all the chossy bits off. Each time a smacked off a jib or crimper, an unfortunate feeling in my stomach grew. This line is amazing, I kept thinking, but way too hard. Nevertheless, we decided to give it a go on toprope. And guess what?! It went! We played around on it for an hour, figuring out the moves and discovering the arete’s intricacies. It’s super technical, sustained, overhanging. Half way up the climber swings off the arete onto a thin, balancy face, and then then finishes again on the arete. I’ve only seen one arete as clean and sharp as this one in my life. The more we played on it, the more we realized it was climbable. So we bolted it and came back a week later with a bunch of friends for a first, second, third, fourth and fifth ascent.
Here’s the description, to be printed in the next edition of the Wanaka climbing guidebook:
Freeloader, 5.12b/c, 7 bolts. Hyper classic! Sustained climbing on a striking overhung arete to hard cranking on a subtle, crimpy face. Described by the third, fourth and fifth ascentionists as “the best route in Wanaka,” “the best sport climb in New Zealand,” and “the best, most sustained arete I’ve ever climbed anywhere.” Rap into a double bolt belay 30′ from the bottom of the hole, pull through a traverse and charge up the arete’s slopers and crimps, all the while teetering over the 100-foot-deep abyss. Equipped/First Ascent by Nathan Welton and Pierre Boissier, March 2007.
So named because we stayed at Ben’s house for way too long, borrowed someone else’s drill, and had to borrow shoes and chalk to make the first ascent. Shameless.
Sorry to brag about this thing. It’s just way too cool. I’m so psyched! Sometimes you get jazzed about a climb you’ve developed simply because it’s “your baby.” But this thing really is something else. I’ve never seen such a rock formation in my life.
Here are some images — that first one of me was shot by my buddy Pierre, who is in the second picture.
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Routeburn Track
Ten days ago we backpacked into the Routeburn Track, a beautiful trail in the Remarkables mountain range. The Routeburn is considered the little brother of the Milford Track, and it’s where everyone winds up who can’t get a Milford Track reservation (which we scored last October). The route is a three-day hike over the Southern Alps, and it’s spectacular. We actually didn’t do the whole trip, but instead hiked in for a night to meet up with some friends who were on their way out. We brought them wine and chocolate and they cooked us a cheesecake… which I spilled wine all over. Back country living at its finest! We picked a good time to go, too: our friends had been trudging through shin-deep floodwater on the trail thanks to a huge storm that smacked into the South Island. But the day we walked in, the storm cleared. Niiiiiicce. While on the track we also took a 30-km day hike up through the Harris Saddle, which on a sunny day should have afforded us views all the way to the coast. Couldn’t see the sea, but we could see the Remarkables peeking through the clouds. Pretty, what’s the word… remarkable!
Check out some of the pictures — and pay attention to our awesome campsite! Tenting sure beats the huts along NZ’s great walks. The huts are nice in a rain storm, I guess, but they’re hot, muggy and filled with people who snore. I spent a few nights in the kitchens along the Milford Track to escape the nighttime noises.
Also of note are the pictures of the little bird on my shoe and legs. Since native birds have no endemic predators, they’re pretty much fearless. As I was taking a rest, this little dude hopped up onto the top of my shoe and then proceeded to cruise around on my leg. I think it wanted to steal the fibers from my socks for a nest, and it plucked away at me for about 10 minutes! Who knows how long travelers will have such an experience, though; introduced animals are decimating the country’s native bird species.
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Rain, rain, go away
Right now we’re in the town of Wanaka. Climbed yesterday and are weathering out a storm in the comfort of the van. Apparently the Milford Track is due for 200mm of rain today. Good thing we left when we did. Last night we watched a movie in the car on the laptop, and today we’re going to watch another one. Great way to travel! Here’s a nice shot of Lake Wanaka I took two nights ago. Really pretty place.
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Rest Day in Milford
We were feeling lethargic — a little ill, perhaps, or maybe just beat from working an impossible climb the day before — so we all decided to have a rest day in and around Milford Sound. Here’s a picture of that impossible climb. It’s a ridiculous 5.12c that’s got a bolt every three feet until a 15′ runout to the chains — with the crux being the last move. Goofy. Since you can’t actually work the move without taking a 20- to 30-footer, we used a dead tree to stick clip the anchor to be on toprope. Oh yeah, did I mention that the route is the crag’s warm up?! There’s another 5.12 — a 5.12d — but you have to climb a 5.13c to get to it. At least the area’s picturesque. It’s called Babylon, and you climb on the side of a cliff covered with waterfalls.
Anyway, the sound was only accessible by boat or foot (via the Milford Track) until the 1950s or so, when the Homer Tunnel was blasted through a kilometer of granite. Perhaps the goofiest postcard I’ve ever seen was a picture of the inside of the tunnel lit by a car headlight — and it doesn’t look like much of a tunnel, either. More of a mine shaft. The roadway inside is half dirt and all potholes, and there’s a continual seepage of water through the top. Kinda sketchy, actually, but at least it heads into one of the most gorgeous sections of the country.
We cruised through the tunnel to this place called The Chasm, and some of us took a dip in the aqua water of the swimming hole there, and afterwards we headed into the sound to take some nice post-storm images of Mitre Peak. While we were out in the tidal zone, we spied a really cool hawk that was trying to pluck a dead bird out of the water for lunch, so we started snapping away. I think the bird got a little paranoid that we were going to steal its lunch, so it actually charged me. Check out this series from my friend Greg.
I was trying to focus on the bird and it just wasn’t working, so then I put my camera down and looked up and the bird was hovering in front of me an arm’s length away. I backed up a few steps and almost fell over, and then the bird charged Greg.
Here are some of my favorite shots from that day…
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Those Milford Track pictures…
So here are some of those Milford Track pictures I promised…
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Milford!
After our last little adventure, we decided to have some R&R on the Milford Track, often called the finest walk in the world. Though it’s a 4-day, 55-km hike, you get to stay in well-equipped huts (no tents allowed!) complete with beds and gas cookers. Pretty posh. Beautiful rain forests for the first two days, a jaw-dropping pass on the second day, and more rain forests on the third. Again, we had perfect weather. At one point, while hiking along a veritable highway in the woods, our companions (who’d done it a few years ago) told us they remember walking along the same section in knee-deep water. Wow! It normally rains 18 feet a year along the Milford Track, so to have a few days of sun in a row is a rarity. The walk ends with a boat ride through Milford Sound, which is stunning. Haven’t had a chance to edit the photos, but I’ll post them soon.
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Keeeeeeaaaaaaaaaa!
Last time I was in NZ, about 6 years ago, I cruised with my friend Andrew to this place called Twin Stream. It’s an amazing glacial valley high above the road to Mt. Cook. The guidebook said a 2 hour hike in from the trailhead and the weatherman said to expect sun. No problem, we figured. So after a day of hitching, we got dropped off at a nearby town. In a rain storm. In flip flops. In board shorts. In t-shirts. Not good. The town was a block long, so we spent the night under a bus shelter and we (don’t tell anyone) raided a Salvation Army drop-box and pulled out the only warm clothes we could find: cotton pajamas. So we swaped out our beach clothes and stood on the side of the road the next day in PJs with our thumbs out. Hours later a car stopped and left us at the trailhead to Twin Stream to start that “two hour approach.” Yeah, right. It took 7 hours. We arrived in this rad, isolated valley with nobody around and set up tent, only to have it almost blown away by gale-force winds while we were inside. Then, at 4 a.m., the mountain parrots descended and ate our pots and pans, and screeched for hours on end. KEEEAAAAA. Andrew lost it, and I awoke to him at dawn throwing everything he could find at all these little troll-like parrots. The keas are massive, by the way, and they’re among the smartest birds around. They’re infamous in New Zealand for eating everything they can find, including cars. They’ll pull the blades off the wipers and the rubber gaskets out of your car windows, so tents stand no chance. Anyway, Andrew and I decided to climb Pulp Friction, some sort of sandbagged 5.10 slab with bolts every 20 feet. That means 40-foot falls. The whole way up a 800-foot climb. Omg. The guy who bolted it was completely mental, since he’d run it out for 15 feet to a great stance and then, instead of putting in a bolt, would climb about a foot above the stance to drill his bolt holes. So that means instead of clipping from a perfect clipping hold, you’d clip above (or in the middle of) a crux, all the while staring between your feet into the gaping alpine abyss and thinking real hard about what would happen if you slipped. The rap down wasn’t any kinder, since the anchors were all mysteriously placed at knee level. I have no idea. Don’t ask. We became so frazzled with the wind and climbing and keas that we bailed, still in our PJs, and headed back to Christchurch where we had a nice beer and chocolate dinner.
So that’s Twin Stream — and that’s where Alicia and I decided go. This time was a bit better, though. First, we had proper clothes. Second, we took a helicopter in, which was cool enough. (I think I want to become a helicopter pilot when my fingers get too arthritic from clicking camera shutters) Third, we took lots of fresh food to keep us nice and strong for our climbing adventures. Fourth, I have 6 extra years of climbing under my belt, so I figured that perhaps the trip wouldn’t be so bad. We arrived in Twin Stream with six people, set up camp, and were immediately stormed by the keas. They landed, hopped around, and tried to take whatever we weren’t looking at. Then we spent about four hours trying to build little rock caves to keep the birds out of our food. An afternoon climb went well, hinting that the routes wouldn’t be so bad. Things were looking up! We cooked a nice dinner with our few million pounds of fresh veggies and went to sleep. The wind started at 2 a.m. and blew the tent flat, so I decided to try to sleep outside, in the shelter of a rock, wondering how Alicia was dealing with eating tent all night long. At 4 a.m., I awoke to the ruffling of feathers and a few little hops on the ground. Then: KEAAAAAAAAA. Louder than you can imagine, by the way. A kea was a few feet from my head, and had somehow eaten my sleeping pad while I was on top of it. I wiggled around, yelled at it, scared it a little and then tried again to fall asleep. KEEEEEEEAAAAAAAA!! Another kea had landed next to my head. I looked over and saw my headlamp about 40 feet away, still shining, and I could just make out one of my shoes in the moonlight, a hundred feet away and a little ratty. The keas had eaten both! I put everything inside my sleeping bag and tried to fall asleep again. KEEAAAAAAAA!! The bird at my feet was calling to its friends throughout the valley, who all responded in turn. Keeaaaa! Keaaaa! Keeaaa! Suddenly, about 20 mountain parrots were in our camp, eating tents, banging on pots, trying to nibble my sleeping pad from beneath me. Everyone was up throwing things at them to scare them away. And then, right when the sun came up, the birds all vanished. The day had started. I did Pulp Friction my second day, which went off without much of a hitch — nowhere near as scary this time — and had another nice meal. And then the wind. And then the keas. And then the rain. And then more wind. And then more keas. And wind. And keas. And keas. And rain. So we all bailed early, taking down the hill about 80 pounds of fresh veggies on our backs.
Here’s Alicia’s take on the hike out:
The hike out was typical Nathan crazy. Of course he had no recollection of it, so I wasn’t fairly warned. We filled our packs with kilos and kilos of gear and fresh veggies, which we had planned to have eaten by this time, and started out. I very quickly realized there was NO trail. We struggled in the scree, ping ponging among the boulders just waiting for the afternoon rain to hit us. With every step I worked to not fall over. Hours in, after grimacing, clenching my fists more than once, and replaying a mantra in my head “I will review every map and route for myself… adventures not epics,” we came to a rope swing above the river. We had to grab an old fiber rope, hang on, and swing from one side of a dropoff to the other. At this point it started to rain. Eventually we found an old sheep path between the most thorny plant I’ve yet to encounter, and bushwacked through it for a few hours. A bit later, after going straight down a ridge, we came to a grass clearing. This is where I lost my footing, fell over into the dense piles of sheep shit, and struggled like a turtle to right myself while admiring the titlted beautiful valley below me. I was punch drunch giddy from that moment on. Only two more hours left!
Anyway, enjoy the photos!
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Castle Hill, Bouldering Mecca
After we finished our sea kayaking trip, we headed toward Castle Hill, which is basically one of the world’s bouldering hotspots. The weather was perfect — the sun, miraculously, seems to be chasing us — so we climbed there for 5 days. The rocks are bizarre limestone blobs scattered on a few huge grassy hills, and they have virtually no features. Climbing there is a huge trip because there aren’t any holds. Seriously. Success at Castle Hill depends on body tension and friction, and damn good sloper strength. Which nobody except the locals seems to have.
Our first day there was pretty sad, and ended with a lot of sore muscles. Every problem requires you to mantle over the top of the boulder, which is basically akin to doing a dip between two chairs. That can get difficult by the 100th time! But after a few days we eased into the climbing style and I managed to pull of a V9 — a first! Alicia almost sent a bunch of V5s, and has a couple of good projects to get back to when we return in a few weeks.
We took a rest day at this place called Cave Stream, which, if you can believe it, is a stream through a cave. But it’s pretty cool since you can actually hike the length of the cave in knee-deep water over the course of half an hour. The cave is about a kilometer long, 6 meters high and 6 meters wide, and it requires the use of a headlamp. Way cool. If it were in America, you’d probably have to pay a $35 entry fee, have to hire a guide and sign a lot of waivers.
Anyway, check out the photos (the first one’s from Pancake Rocks, on the way there from Paynes Ford)
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Kayaking!
Just got back from our kayaking adventure through Abel Tasman National Park, which was a blast. It was a three-day trip that started on one end of the park and ended with a pick-up half way through it. We got worked by big swells and sand flies, but we also had some perfect weather, glassy seas and a super hot 122-degree solar shower.
The first day was an early start. Sunny, smooth, just about perfect. We paddled around Separation Point and encountered a few sea lion colonies, stopped for breakfast at a place called Mutton Cove, and continued along the coast stopped at tiny little beaches and exploring little coves along the way. Hikers can walk along a multi-day trail that goes along the beach now and again, so we encountered a lot of folks out there. The first night we spent at a tiny little jungle campsite and were eaten by swarms of sand flies. Absolutely heinous.
The next day we awoke to a little drizzle, a little wind, and a little chop, so we decided to wait and see if the weather improved. We were headed to a place called Mosquito Bay, which was on the other side of a huge point. The weather got worse and worse until about 5 pm, at which point things started to clear and we decided to make a go for it.
As soon as we got to the point, we encountered 4-foot swells that were smacking us in the face. SKETCHY! Turning around was a little freaky, and it was even worse trying to paddle back. On the way out at least we could see the waves approaching, but on the way back they were hitting me from behind. Each wave would drench me and push the rear of the boat out of the water, which means I couldn’t steer for a second or two — and that put us at risk of being broadsided by a wave and capsizing! The plan was to get to Mosquito Bay that night and then come back up the coast, past our first campsite, to our pickup place. Instead, we just spent two nights at our first campsite, and our third day was a liesure day exploring tiny private beaches and snorkeling. Excellent!
When we returned, we heard about an Australian adventurer who was trying to kayak from Australia to New Zealand in a boat about the same size as ours. He encountered 30-foot waves along the course of his 1,600 km journey, only to capsize about 80 km from shore on the day before he was supposed to arrive. Right now he’s missing at sea. Pretty tragic story — you can read about it here. We had a pretty intense 20 minutes, and I can’t believe what it must have been like to deal with this stuff for 30 days, day and night. Today is the last day of the search and rescue mission, so everyone over here is hoping they find him. Fingers crossed.
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Sea kayaking, woohoo!
So we’re a day into a three day kayak trip around Abel Tasman National Park, in the northern South Island. Taking a lunch break and I wanted to see if I could update the blog… Seems like it works.
Anyway, we’re being eaten alive by sand flies, so if anyone can read this: please send help. Please. Send. Help. We won’t last too much longer. And we sure can’t wait to see what lurks around tomorrow night’s campsite, which tey call Mosquito Bay.
Today we went around a cool point with a bunch of sea lion colonies, and the sea lions came up and swam around the boat. Waaaay cool. This place reminds me of California’s Channel Islands, but tropical.
We’ve got some snorkeling gear in the kayak, so I’m hoping to catch some lobster for dinner. If that fails, maybe we can get back at the sand flies and eat them.
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Wharariki Beach
Had a bit of a mission today. First we had the obligatory climbing session at Paynes, then we took an afternoon off and went to Wharariki Beach, which is about an hour northwest. It’s accessible by a long, circuitous dirt road, then a hike along a path winding through grassy hills, forests and dunes. Amazing place. There weren’t very many people save for Alicia and I and our friends Greg, Andrew, Sylv and this crazy French dude named Pierre.
Andrew’s recently become excited about geocaching, which is basically a treasure hunt for adults. You pick some caches off of www.geocaching.com and use your GPS to find them. One of them was buried somewhere on the beach, so we took his GPS and wandered around until we found a small tupperware filled with random goodies buried beneath some plants growing out of a dune. You’re supposed to take a trinket with you out of the cache and leave something else inside it. We also explored a random cave on the beach, but after we got a few hundred feet in (in the pitch dark) we heard some animals breathing and snorting — probably sea lions. With big teeth. So we bolted.
Pierre returned to the beach the next day and spent an afternoon digging clams out of the sand. He became covered in mud, but he also needed to do some grocery shopping for dinner. We ran into him at the market, and instead of dripping mud all over the store, he was wandering around in a pair of red boxer shorts and an undershirt. He emerged with white wine, parsley and other cooking ingredients and proceeded to cook clams for the entire camp. A bit sandy, but tasty too.
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Fat Tuesday!
Takaka, tiny, two-block Takaka, threw a pretty wicked Mardi Gras — even if the parade consisted of 15 people. But at least the crowd was huge!
Yesterday was a super productive day of climbing — Alicia lead a few lines and continued to get used to being on the sharp end of the rope, while I ticked off a few more of the classics that I couldn’t do last time I was here. I clawed my way up 9 pitches yesterday, 7 of which were 5.12. Yikes. I can’t really move well right now. But check out the pictures and you can see what the climbing’s like around here. Awesome limestone, huge fern trees, dense jungle — it’s like climbing in Thailand, but the weather isn’t 100 degrees every day.
Afterwards, we headed to town for a parade and a long night of live music in the Takaka’s central square. Pretty cool stuff. One band played native Zimbabwean music on a collection of xylophones, which was incredible. Seemed like everyone in this whole valley was in town. Fun stuff.
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Climbing in Paynes Ford
Ahh, just arrived at Paynes Ford, the coolest place to climb in all of New Zealand. It’s in Golden Bay, in the northern tip of the South Island, in the Takaka River Valley. Paynes Ford is a band of limestone cliffs flanked by a huge river with lots of swimming holes. It’s beyond cool. We ran into a great friend from my last trip here 6 years ago, and here he is on Responsible Lunges, a cool 5.12 up a huge overhanging arete. More later — gotta go cook and relax!
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The Land of the Long White Cloud
Arrived two days ago at 11:00 a.m., and by 4:00, I’d scored a sweet camper van and a spare bed at my friend Ziggy’s place for a few nights. Yesterday I equipped the van, got a cell phone, hooked it up to my email account, went grocery shopping and picked up Alicia at the airport. Today we’re relaxing with my friend Dave, a seaweed researcher at the University of Canturbury, and tomorrow the adventure begins. We’re probably headed up the coast, past Kaikoura, and onto Golden Bay for a few weeks of climbing at Paynes Ford.
Christchurch’s Port Hills are absolutely stunning. What a beautiful place to live. Ziggy — a doctor of psychiatric medicine with dreadlocks down to his waist — lives with his wife (an ophthalmologist) in a small pad overlooking Lyttleton Harbor. Nice. He’s got some time off in March, so we’re hoping to connect with him and go whitewater kayaking for a few weeks.
So anyway, here are a few pictures as we start off our trip! One’s of our new home on wheels for the next few months, and the other two shots are overlooking Lyttleton Harbor from Ziggy’s front porch.
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