Adventure #238

Rich Turner traversing the ridge above Te Puoho cirque in the
Central Darrans, northern Fiordland
OBVIOUS IN HINDSIGHT
A FIRST-ASCENT MISSION
IN FIORDLAND
Words and photos by Derek Cheng
It's obvious in hindsight, but bragging about a rope
that'd never had to catch a fall was always going to
doom it to be fallen on.
The fall that was always going to happen took
place on Statue Wall, a 300m-high cliff that
connects Te Wera and Karetai in the Central
Darrans, Fiordland, where the rope's services had
been in use for several seasons.
The day had started with a survey of the left side
of the wall for a new line. Having chosen one,
Wellington-based climber Richard Thomson
climbed up a slabby, serpentine rib. Golden Baybased
Richard Turner then led through a cruxy roof
to a ledge system.
I started pitch three up a gentle dihedral, which,
given how gentle it was, was unsurprisingly strewn
with debris. With my ropes and belayers well to my
left, I started hurling loose rocks down the wall to
my right.
A few moves higher, though, and I came to
something that demanded extra care: a death block
the length of my arm and shaped like an elaborate
lamp. I gathered its cumbersome heft in both hands
and, shifting my weight from left to right, unleashed
my turbo-throw.
All of a sudden, to my horror and confusion, I was
airborne. To my even greater horror, the bulky rock
dropped between me and the ropes. I fell some
15 metres, my left butt cheek colliding with a slab,
before a certain rope took its first catch.
The climbing gear that caught the fall—along with
the rope—was a Black Diamond Camelot placed
several metres below me in a crack. It was the
latest addition to the gear stash at the bivvy cave
known as Turner’s Eyrie. Thomson had showcased
its shiny newness before taking it up to replace a
brontosaurus-era cam that'd been lost the previous
season. It’s obvious in hindsight, but this was
always going to mean it was about to be fallen on.
But this also meant it was a good way to fall—on a
new piece of gear and a previously fall-free rope.
I uncrumpled myself from the slab, scrambled
to a stance, and proclaimed my excellence in
preparedness. Having been hurt once or twice
in remote places, I’d started carrying ibuprofen,
paracetamol and tramadol in my chalk bag, which I
now eagerly reached for.
Rich Turner descending gingerly after completing a first ascent
on the Statue Wall above Lake Turner, northern Fiordland.
20//WHERE ACTIONS SPEAK LOUDER THAN WORDS/#238