 The tranquil approach through the forest. |
Mt.
Buller (again)
As the observant reader will have noted, I have been to Mt. Buller on numerous ocassions, kidding myself that I would find some ice to climb. This trip was going to be different! Greg wrote such a beautiful trip report that I will reproduce it here and save myself re-iterating what he has already stated so succinctly. |
Bit of an epic getting in, with a huge storm dumping lots of snow and the approach along a knife edge ridge, but we managed to get there about the time we needed to turn around. |
 There wasn't much to climb so I hope you don't mind the photos of snow gums. |
| So, we did the right thing, stayed longer, got cold, dropped a glove "My* glove....." and watched it tumble down the couloir gathering speed until it went out of sight, realised the ice was crappy and thin, realised that getting so cold that you want to puke is no fun, and then got sluffed on a bit too much standing on our precarious little ledge we hacked out of the icy snow. It was a bit miserable for awhile. |
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| Alan bumbles around. | Greg in the same gully. |
We then bailed and hoped we would at least get off the ridge, or better, make it to the car park before dark. It was one of those days where you don't eat or drink because it's too miserable to stop and take off your warm pack. Bumped into a few people on the descent who camped at the tree-line, so we finally ate and drank something about 5.30pm and bonus! we had a boot-pack to follow instead of wading through snow as night fell. We stumbled back to the car well after dark. Another 10 hour day at the office.
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This trip will also be remembered as the day Greg's harness shrunk because Sophie's waist is narrower than his. It was also the day we forgot to get our harnesses, ropes, crampons etc. out of our packs until after climbing the gully.
* "My" == "Alan's" - I was flapping the glove around trying to clear it of snow when it made a daring bid for freedom down the slope and out of sight.