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Having (almost) mastered the techniques required to get up a steep slope, and more importantly, to stop ourselves from hurtling back down it, this day was the day to put it into practice with a real objective. Turner Peak (approx. 2400m).

The 5 am start is cold, but I feel none of the lethargy and malaise I felt yesterday. Outside it's still dark and totally silent. Inside there's a bustle of activity with tilley lamps and stoves, breakfast, gear packing and clothing. Probably much slower than Roy would have liked, we eventually stop fiddling, and spill out into the mornings gloaming and peer through the waning darkness towards our favorite ridge. Without much ado we troop silently along behind Roy as he purposefully strides upwards following the faint rocky  trail. Feet and poles working together in harmony. Every step, a measured step forward, and upward. I wheeze and huff along behind with all the grace of a newborn moose, tripping on solid protrubances, (dislodging the loose ones on to Geoff behind me). Every step a desperate lunge to anything that looks like it might hold. On the boulder sections I hear Geoff cursing quietly. He really doesn't like these bits. We seem to gain altitude rapidly this morning. Behind us and below us, the darkness is rapidly dissolving into what appears to be yet another perfect sunny day .

I've been reflecting on my poor walking performance. Although I'm obviously the least fittest of us i also realize that I've never owned a pair of walking boots. That is to say, the most solid a boot I've ever walked in has been the 'soft runner' variety. No wait .. What about my ski boots ! Still these double plastics are really strange. The small amount of flex is occasionally off-putting. Especially when I step up and 'rock-on'. When not thinking about it, instead of simply flexing forward, the stiff cuffs tend to automatically push me back, just as I'm standing up. The result is a sudden an unexpected transfer of weight backwards. Oh well, it's only day three.
On the up side, the soles grip like glue. I like that !

Roy seems to be taking it easy this morning and during a short rest stop explains some of the methods used to maximize efficiency during walks like these.
Starting early, while it's still cool. Keeping body heat down. Keeping hydrated. Eating right. All makes perfectly good sense to us, and today, despite our apparently relaxed approach and much heavier packs, we seem to be making very good progress. I know I'm feeling great !  We knock half an hour off yesterdays trip time and reach the ice filed in just on an hour. With cloudless blue skies and the sun shining above us we stride out onto the ice and dump our excess gear, (in my case that consisted of a water bottle and a ski pole), fitted our crampons, emptied our bladders and started up towards Turner Peak.

Roped together in pairs, and with Roy soloing up and down between us, we tentatively begin our first pitch. Now this was a slope I wouldn't even have though of as needing any protection. Roy soon put an end to that. Danger lurks everywhere. If it's not from invisible ice bridges in front of you, it's from your own self, or your partner, or a loose rock. We all looked again at the innocuous slope before us and suddenly today's outing had a more serious glint to it.

The sun is scorching now and we all lather up in sunscreen. As we dig around in our pockets and packs for makeshift sun visors and scarves, Roy donns what appears to be a pair of underwear with eye-and-nose holes cut in the bum part. Glacier glasses poking out from the inside and he looks just like the guy from 'The Fly' (The classic ... not the modern).

The first pitch went well, with Roy letting us do our own thing, always vigilant for errors, always watching carefully and suggesting improvements, answering questions and making sure we were acting safely. Nick and I reached the top of our pitches and Roy called for us each to bang in a snow stake. I tried three times, but each time came up on something solid. "You're on a rock Wit"... Roy yells. "Dig around a little and see what's there!". From the sound of the stake, I didn't think it was rock but digging seemed a good idea. Sure enough 30 cm down, solid blue ice. Roy is pleased. He bounds over to me with an ice screw already in hand.

This is the first time I've seen one of these go in. Quickly, easily and first time. Solid too... These ease of your favorite SLCD with the security of your best ever nut placement. With two of these in it's time for Geoff to come up and lead the next pitch. A couple of pitches later we reach a crumple zone marked by a large crevasse crossing our relatively narrow path. It's Geoffs turn to lead. I have solid ice again for my belay, but for the first time, the rope between us is only going to be of use while he's crossing the crevasse. Once he's over, a fall and a slide will see him go straight in. I watch carefully as I pay out rope to Geoff, paying particular attention to the route he chooses. He happily drops down out of my view and onto an ice bridge below the blue ice lip rising above us. A moment later he reappears to the right, walking very deliberately towards an easy bulge about his height that will take him further right and up an onto the slope above us. From there he carefully steps back left, over a continuation of the main crack and is free to front point the rest of the way up the easy slope. To my relief, Roy sprints ahead and bangs in a runner, so Geoff can clip something to stop a fall into the crevasse if required.

A shout from above and it's my turn now. My belay comes apart as quickly as it went in and I walk up to where Geoff dropped in. Now I can see where he went, and although at this point there's no danger of falling in, my eyes and thoughts are drawn downwards, towards the gaping blue chasm. Melt water is running off the lip above me and everything is wet, which makes it look slippery and smooth. The shapes, worn by melting, have a vaguely organic feel to them. A little like looking into the very organs of some giant living thing. It's entrancing. I follow Geoff footprints across the shelf and begin to front point up the rounded bulge, scarcley bothering to look into the drop beside me. There's absolutely no reason to fall here. Gaining the top, I stand and peer down in to the depths of the hole, looking at my rope draped across it in a casual loop. I see it's moving and realize Geoff is taking in. Suddenly it goes tight and pulls me ever so gently towards the edge. My composure evaporates in a n instant... "SLACK!" I yell ... The rope drops, and I feel foolish. Walking up a few steps I cross the crack and plod my way up to Geoff. That was cool!

It took six pitches to reach the top of the steeper section and now, roped together, we walked the  circuitioos route to the last ridge. A short rocky scramble to the summit is our last task. Roy is very concerned about loose rock, and as he scrambles up, he points out a large boulder overhanging the route and warns us to not even breath on that one. We even try to guess it's path and move our gear. Just in case!. John tries to deliberately roll it off but all that happens is that just about everything else slides off, and the big one just looks worse. Geoff and I hate this part .... With my cramponed feet scrambling for purchase on the loose and sloping rock I swim up the scree and flop into the summit of Turner Peak. It's lunch time.

We all kick-back for 20 minutes munching our lunch, snapping photos, and trying to take in the breathtaking view. From our vantage point, we can see small clouds slowly drifting up the Hooker Glacier which stretches behind us from the North-West to the South-West. Towering in front of us to the North, the ever present Caroline Face, and below, the upper reaches of the Ball Glacier. Ball Pass, New Zealand's highest Guided Trek, is below us to the South. Roy seems deep in thought and keeps looking at his watch. It's time to go...

Roy is concerned at how long it's taken to get here and seems keen to get back ASAP. To this end he opts to lower us down the six pitches in pairs, as opposed to us belaying each other down one at a time. In this manner we can get two people dow 100m on each lower. We build a bombproof belay for Roy and lend him an extra ATC. Tying two ropes together, Geoff and I both tie into one end and with Roy providing the anchor, we both start plodding down. At the end of our 100m we enlarge one of our old stances and wait for John and Nick to join us. Quick as a flash, Roy stomps his way down to us, sets up a new belay and Nick and John walk the next two pitches down. In this manner we covered the six pitches down in about an hour!...

We regroup at a small rocky outcrop poking through the ice and fill our water bottles with the melt runoff. Again Roy seems anxious about rock fall and we all keep glancing up the innocent looking slope above us. Nothing moves ...

Our day is over and all that's left now is the 2 km long walk back to the hut. Once again we have the sun at our back as we plod back up the steep ridge line that will take us up, over, and down to Caroline Hut. The Caroline face is in fine form this afternoon and entertains us with awesome displays of ice fall and avalanches. Every so often, the quiet of the afternoon is disrupted by the deep rumbling of tons of ice and snow taking the short rout to the bottom of the valley. From time to time we stop and squint into the shadows of the face trying to spot the flows, but the distance spanning the valley is such that, by the time we hear the fall and start looking, it's mostly finished. I'm only now starting the get an idea of the sheer size of the area we're in.

As the afternoon is getting on, and Roy is confident we can find our way back, so he motors on ahead to get a brew going in the hut for us, and catch the afternoon radio sched. We slowly amble back. The track seems familiar today, and on the way we recognize have even dubbed a short scramble up a bluff as "Geoff's Mistake" from the previous day. Geoff grins up at it as we scramble across below it. For the third evening in a row, the hut is a welcome site in the lengthening shadows of the ridge above us. Inside, Roy has a brew going and, as it's his turn to cook tonight, is starting a soup for dinner. It's great !

Our third day has a successful feel to it. A feeling of achievement. Tomorrow we will walk down to the ice cliffs below the Ball Glacier and try our hands at some technical ice climbing. Every one seems relieved that we don't have to tackle the ridge again. At this point I'm feeling better about the ridge and apprehensive about walking back up from the ice cliffs below. Oh well... Tomorrow is another day ... best just to go with the flow and worry about it then.
We've also planned to walk back out in the afternoon. Apparently there is a shortcut back down to Husky Flat that's going to make the trip back much easier.

I'm looking forward to that !