hours' strenuous work, we arrived at the saddle. We all drew a breath of relief when we climbed into safety on the Westland side, and Graham acknowledged it was the longest and worst traverse he had ever made. A bitterly cold westerly wind was blowing up the Fox Glacier, so we only paused on the saddle long enough for a drink of hot tea from the Thermos and some bread and jam. We were looking straight on to the Haast Ridge. The approach from the saddle was bad, the rocks being heavily iced, and the ridge itself broken into sharp, tooth-like projections, and, according to Fitzgerald's account, fearfully rotten. So we concluded we had made a wise choice in deciding for Lendenfeld, which is an easy snow climb from the saddle, and has the advantage of being 700 feet higher.
In the enthusiasm of the early morning we had thought of attempting both, but gaining the saddle had taken us so much longer than we expected and the Haast rocks looked so icy, that we gave up all idea of it. We soon made our way to the summit of Lendenfeld, and experienced a pleasing glow of triumph as we surveyed the scene outspread before us. We had a splendid view of the eastern face of Mount Tasman, and I was able to take a photograph illustrating our climb of the previous week. The west coast was under low-lying clouds, only the tops of the mountains showing above them. Peter took a photograph of Milne and me standing on the summit, or as near as we dared, it being very much corniced, and then we began the descent, as it was much too cold for any prolonged stay. We were soon back at the saddle, and accomplished our return traverse without accident, Milne leading and doing exceedingly well. When we reached the foot of the glacier, and had had a good meal in a sunny spot protected from the wind, we really began to enjoy our triumph to the full, and plodded home quite cheerfully through the now soft snow. On reaching
