CHAPTER IX
THE ASCENT OF MOUNT COOK
The silence and the sunshine creep
With soft caress
O'er billowy plain and mountain steep
And wilderness—
A velvet touch, a subtle breath,
As sweet as love, as calm as death,
On earth, on air, so soft, so fine.
Till all the soul a spell divine
O'ershadoweth.
Essex Evans.
We set off on the evening of November 30th, accompanied by Miss Murray Aynsley, who wished to come with us as far as the Hooker hut. After crossing the river, we wandered through grassy meadows filled with spring flowers, mostly white, as nearly all the New Zealand mountain flowers are. The path rising gently upward brought us in about three miles to the terminal Hooker moraine, over which we had to clamber—pathless, of course; we then descended again and crossed a rushing mountain torrent, over slippery boulders. This often means wet feet and an involuntary bath for the timid or careless. On this occasion we arrived quite safely at the other side, and began to struggle up the steep and stony path, which rises about a thousand feet in the three miles between here and the hut. Graham and a pack-horse joined us about an hour later; and just as we were preparing our evening meal, a distant hail from the regions of the
