Here many coloured rocks lead down to deep, dark-green valleys and away to yellow tussock, intersected with twisting rivers which flow down to a sparkling sea, reflecting tone for tone the intense blue of the summer sky. For an hour we sat on our summit warm, happy, and contented as we gazed around us, finding every moment some new beauty to marvel at. Then we began the descent. We had to go carefully down the steep ice slope and along the narrow ridge. The sun was at its height, and surrounded as we were on every side with dazzling snow, we seemed penned in a world of heat and light. A tangible wave of warmth radiated from the ice slopes as we descended with our faces close to them. When at last we arrived at the col, we skirted round to the left, until we reached the shadow of a dripping ice-wall. Here we rested, closing our eyes to shut out the eternal gleaming whiteness. When we were cooled down and refreshed we started off again, and soon reached the slopes at the base of the mountain where we had left our skis in the morning. Then followed a joyous whiz down the slopes to the glacier. We were able to ski nearly to the hut, an infinite saving of labour in the now soft snow. A weary scramble over the moraine with our skis on our shoulders, another steep pull up the grass slopes, and we were home once more and soon happily discussing our day over unlimited tea.
Next morning we all left for the Hermitage, arriving about four o'clock. After a bath and two hours' rest I was happily awaiting the arrival of the motor-car and my friend, very well pleased with the last week's exertions in spite of the telegrams that kept dropping in from the West Coast, telling us of all the fun the remnant of our party was having over there.
In spite of the fact that New Year's Day was abominably wet, Muriel and I sallied out, clad in oilskins, with our lunch in a rucksac, and spent a happy day under an overhanging rock up the Hooker Valley. Here we were
