By Harriet Blundell, 02 October 2026
As an ambitious and hearty crew departed from Kelburn on Octobers first Friday, I ensured to leave any thoughts about my final assignments due in the coming days behind in Wellington. This proved easy enough anyways, due to the distractions and entertainments of glacier travel lessons, mountain summits, the most character-filled lodge I’ve ever stayed in, and an unbeatably great group of people.
After a cruisy drive towards Ruapehu, fuelled by Charlie’s exceptional music taste and a dinner stop in Bulls (shocking), we arrived at the Massey Alpine Club lodge at Tūroa just in time to catch the last of the sunset. Originally planned as a joint trip with MUAC, it was unfortunate that the entire crew piked at the last minute, however there were definitely no complaints from our crew about staying in their lodge anyways. The cutest green A-frame, cosiest wooden interior, and two entire full boxes of Ranfurly draught? Hard to complain. Additionally there was a shed to hold a generator the size of a small car, which once started sounded near apocalyptic. Concerns were raised about the amount of oil leaking into the metal catch tray beneath it, before we collectively decided that provided it wasn’t overflowing, it was probablyy fine? There was a bit of running around to locate various keys and mysterious trap doors scattered on the ground outside, one of which revealed a ladder descending into the abyss - apparently the price of admission for access to the water supply. After the Ranfurlys were cracked open, it was a short time before we got ready for the following day.
Saturday’s 6 am alarm was snoozed for a few hours, courtesy of the intense whiteout and drizzle outside. It took some collective motivation to venture out into the elements, but eventually we departed in search of snow, armed with ropes, harnesses, snow pickets, shovels, and the whole shebang. Sean and Jack taught us how to build and test snow anchors, and a belay system was set up for us to practise on. Alongside learning some interesting glacier travel techniques, we also discovered that no matter how waterproof something claims to be, it is never really waterproof enough. Soaked and chilled through after a day of rain, we made an early beeline back to the lodge to get in some hours of relaxation before Sunday’s big objective. A detour to gather kindling was required to rectify the lack of a fire the previous evening, after which everyone drifted into their respective creative pursuits. Sprawled across mattresses in the lounge beneath a ceiling draped in hanging wet gear, Giselle's sudoku puzzles were completed, sketchbook pages filled, and books read. Tommy’s excitement for his tomato soup and grilled cheese dinner reached new heights when he unearthed some ancient-looking pots and toastie making tool to cook his meal over the coal fire. Once again, more progress was made on the box of Ranfurly’s in preparation for our climb, some laughs had, and interesting stories told.
Sunday’s 5 am alarm was met with considerably more contentment, thanks to the pristinely clear sky outside and the stillness that had settled in after being woken by aggressive winds in the night. Lots of porridge was made and consumed, and by quarter past six we were ready to set off on our adventure. The first section before reaching the snow was accompanied by a vibrant sunrise. The mountain felt peaceful and almost deserted, save for a few ambitious first-track skiers and the workers advising us to stay off the groomed pistes. Once the crampons were on it was a steady trudge up the ski field beneath the lifts. We kept a steady pace before arriving at Skyline Ridge, which rose ahead of us in a spectacular display of jagged ridgelines and wind-sculpted rime ice. It looked like a photograph torn straight from an alpine mountaineering magazine. As we gained height, the angle steepened until zigzagging back and forth was the only sensible way forward. Breaks got less and less desired under the the freezing temperatures of the wind, and there was some growing concern over how frequently Jacks’s new free crampons became unattached from his foot. We crossed paths with a well-equipped NZAC crew heading towards Girdlestone, whom we watched with a mixture of disbelief and admiration throughout the day as they gradually shrank into tiny specks against some seriously imposing terrain. Girdlestone also provided an immaculate backdrop for photos, made even more impressive by the final stretch of ridge ahead of us.
Before we knew it, we had reached the ‘crux': a stretch of thick ice that required us to put our ice-climbing skills to the test. I must admit I was terrified during the duration of this, feeling as though my self arresting skills were not up to par. Eventually, we reached a false summit, where the final section of the ridge stretched out intimidatingly in front of us. It was seriously exposed, the wind was threatening, and a minute or two was spent tossing it up before deciding we may as well give it a crack. Progress was slow, with every few metres requiring us to drop low to avoid being blown off away, but before we knew it, we were the highest people in the north island.
On top of the Tahurangi peak on Ruapehu at 2797m, an unreal 360 panorama of Skyline ridge, Crater lake, and the surrounding volcanic landscape lead to the universal FaceTiming of parents. The view only to be compared by Jayden to looking like Mount Maunganui or Mount Vic but with snow. Speight’s summits on the summit were cracked open, before the wind chill lead us towards our departure after a very brief time.
The ice climbing section of the descent proved just as nerve-racking as coming up, but the rest of the way down was relatively cruisy. A potential glissading route was eyed up eventually, although enthusiasm for the idea diminished a little after watching Sean absolutely whip down at speed where he only spun around when he tried to brake - losing a crampon and water bottle in the process. We eventually made our way down to one of the ski-field cafés for lunch, before spending the remainder of the descent being weaved around by skiers and snowboarders. Back at the lodge, a quick clean-up ensued, followed by some self-timer photos with both the lodge and our summit achievement as backdrops. Then once again we were Wellington bound. Uploading my camera photos and sampling a Bulls curry roll provided the entertainment for the drive home, alongside the realisation that we had collectively managed to sunburn our faces and eyes. Before we knew it, we were back at the gear shed ready to go home and rest before our last week of classes, and filled with exhilaration from our achievement. The biggest of thank yous to Jack for organising this, was for sure the trip of the year!
