The next morning after a calm and cool evening we awoke to a blue-sky chilly camp, breakfasted, sorted climbing gear and with the excitement of an adventurous day ahead left camp 0745 to strike out for the quite majestic peaks of Gloriana and Faerie Queene, silhouetted against a cloudless sky, the call of a few kea high in the trees wishing us well—or were they thinking what a great time they might have in our camp while we were away?
An hour’s travel up the banks of Camera Gully Stream we trekked onto hard snow and continued up onto the edge of the large snow-filled basin where we rested under the vista of Gloriana. Dropping a little into the basin we skirted the large snow-covered tarn and continued the now steeper climb to the saddle that separates the two peaks, arriving around 1400 hrs. The weather was holding, one of those days you could swear it was like this all the time in the mountains—cobalt blue sky above, glistening white peaks stretching to a blurred horizon in the far distance, the wind a barely discernable zephyr.
It would have been nice to loll around on the saddle for the afternoon and compose romantic poetry but there was work to do! We split into two parties, Gary, Merv and Liz would tackle Faerie Queen, Merv was quietly determined, glad to have the opportunity of resolving the unfinished business of summiting FQ, Liz, nervous, excited, confident and grateful for the chance to climb this peak. Gary led on, purposeful, assured.
Kerry & Dan led off No 2 party, striking a direct line South up the steep rocky ridge towards Gloriana, Raymond would follow with Yvette & Karen, evaluating their progress.
Kerry led up the Gloriana ridge carrying the strange taber-like staff he had found in the bush the night before, having developed a curious attachment to it he resembled the sorcerer from Lord of the Rings.. The route grew more precarious, steeper, razor-backed with iced gully’s to be negotiated or carefully skirted. With the fall on each side now many hundreds of meters, Frodo consulted with the Sorcerer should we go on? “YES” he cried, thrusting the magic taber forward. “We are the spirit of the mountain!”
Raymond’s strong, clear voice behind, “How-we-doin-then?” The spell is broken, back to reality. Yvette and Karen had returned to the saddle and Raymond had pushed on to meet us. Buoyed by his energy and skill we looked up after surmounting a particularly sharp and icy ridge to see the last 50m to the summit—an easy snow ridge. We climbed, then could ascend no more. Kerry triumphantly struck the taber into the snowy peak of Gloriana and we puffed with relief and awe at the spectacular views from 2,218m.
Raymond led the descent, leaving the ridge after a few hundred meters and front-pointed down the steepest decline before the mountain fanned out onto the wide snow and ice terrain back around the tarn basin. There was no sign of the FQ climbers but Yvette and Karen could be seen far below. We struck out for camp, arriving at 1815 hrs after a 10½ hr day, sun and snow-burned, thirsty, hungry, sweat-stained and very happy.