A River Ran Through...

As the journey continues, the three remaining troops soldier on towards the glacier and Crow Hut, their eventual resting place for the evening. Beginning the descent immediately, their goal dangled before their eyes.


The dangers were apparent in each step they took, as death eyed them from below. Winding down a narrow path that led towards the trail that would lead them to Crow Hut, it became increasingly important to avoid looking too far to the left or right.


Though it is difficult to gauge the true height, it should be noted that the bottom of this ravine represents a 3,000 foot drop in elevation. And it was very steep; one false step and there would be little to stop a person from tumbling the full distance.

Comforting.

This, obviously, did not lessen the amount of photographs taken. When surrounded by nothing but towering mountains and snow-capped peaks, there is little else to do but hike and admire.


Though the group was unaware of it at the time, they would soon have to descend much quicker than they imagined. About to overtake a group of students from a neighboring university, the three trampers made a point to stop and take one final photograph before the most laborious and perilous leg of the journey was to commence.



There would be time for more staged photos later; at the moment, there was but one task in store for the three.

Descend to Crow Hut without being killed.

The hike to the summit took about three to four hours to complete. The scramble down the steep cliff before the glacier, dropping over 3,000 feet, was completed in under an hour. Perhaps made obvious by this point, it should be made abundantly clear that this was a very serious drop-off.

Shimmying down the cliff, the only available footing was loose rock. Normally, this would not present any issues, but given the size of the group (now ballooned to eight with the addition of the other students), a new danger emerged.

Traveling in a tight pack, it was entirely possible for a person near the rear to jar a rock loose, and depending on the size, causing it to race and tumble into others with the potential for serious injury.


This arrangement resulted in leaving certain positions undesirable. The following is one:


Eventually, for reasons that are easily understood when considering this photograph, the tight-knit approach was abandoned for a mindless sprint down the remaining 2,000 feet. Not only was it decided that it was easier to traverse the cliff at a higher rate of speed, but after several somewhat careless incidents involving the other group of students freeing large rocks (and several bruised ankles of the three original trampers), the notion of loyalty to the pack seemed foolish.

So the sprint was on.

Arriving in the valley of the glacier considerably faster than the five random travelers, the ice-covered mass loomed larger than ever.


From the base of the glacier, the walk to Crow Hut was comparatively easy, along a riverbed that hinted at its mightiness in the height of spring. Being the twilight of summer, the only visible evidence stemming from the glacier was a faint waterfall that continuously ran from the ice.

Walking along this river, the three soon ran into a tiny stream of absolute purity. If one is not familiar with a glacial river, then one does not truly understand the icy brilliance it contains. It would be hard to find a cleaner and more serene source of water in this world, and if such a source does exist, it may parallel this river, but certainly does not surpass.


As the sun began to slip behind the walls imposed by the surrounding mountains, the three travelers finally came upon Crow Hut. Humble as it was, it represented home for the night, and the three were certainly happy to have made it in one piece.


However, demonstrating the true character of the group, all three freely elected to bypass the hut and instead pitched camp on the long wisps of grass that grew nearby. When one spends their life confined within walls, it becomes necessary to rebel whenever the opportunity presents itself.

And a happier rebellion may never have taken place.


Tomorrow promised at least one challenge: the three would still be wandering through riverbeds over 140 kilometers from Christchurch, and with little prospects of eliminating that distance.

On this night, however, they slept under the naked sky and away from such worries, swept away in the intoxicating atmosphere of stars and glaciers, of nature and solitude.