snow. We looked at it with no enthusiasm, merely a grim determination that, having come so far, we were not going to be beaten at the last. Our progress was slow and careful, the glazed ice in places making every precaution necessary. The rocks, too, were very sharp, and we cut our hands in several places when clinging to their jagged edges. Fortunately most of the loose stones were frozen tight, or I can imagine this being a very unpleasantly exciting ridge. We climbed over and around sharp rocky teeth for something like two hours, and at last a shout from Graham, who was leading, announced that the summit was in sight. A steep and narrow snow ridge led up to it, one of the three arêtes of Mount Cook, La Perouse, and Mount Tasman, which have their culminating point in Mount Dampier. We found the summit most inhospitably sharp and narrow, so, only pausing there a few moments, passed on to a more sheltered and comfortable spot on the Tasman main arête, and there paused for a well-earned rest and meal.
We reached the summit at twelve noon, after just nine hours' hard going. I was suffering from want of sleep and the alternate cold and heat of the glacier, all of which combined to make me feel that Mount Dampier was the most tiring climb I had attempted in the Southern Alps. I have no doubt the rocks would have been most enjoyable and interesting if we had not had such a weary plug before reaching them. However, we were all very pleased at having gained our peak. It was Milne's first high climb, he only being in his second season at the Hermitage, so he was naturally very pleased at having conquered the third highest mountain in New Zealand, and that also a virgin peak, for his first attempt. We rested for an hour, taking photographs and admiring the view. The west was, as usual, under white billowy clouds; Mount Cook towered above us, shutting out most of the view to the south-east; while Tasman occupied the foreground.
