CHAPTER XV
THE ASCENT OF MOUNT TASMAN
Who shall hear, O Nature, messages thou wouldst send
In thy desolate places, far from the moving throng?
Ah, but the soul that loveth thee best may comprehend.
The voice of the silence speaketh louder than song!
The day after our return from Mount Ruareka we decided that the time had come for another attempt at Mount Tasman. Other climbers and guides at the Hermitage laughed the idea to scorn. As the season was a doubtful one and already far advanced, they were inclined to consider the attempt rather ridiculous. Even we looked upon it somewhat in the light of a forlorn hope. A season which so far had rarely afforded two consecutive fine days, with only thirteen hours' daylight in each, was not, we admitted to one another (but to no one else), the most promising time to attack the greatest snow climb in the New Zealand Alps. Bivouacking at 6,600 feet was hardly likely to be pleasing, however invigorating to our systems the cold might be; we thoughtfully considered these objections, and admitted the chances were ten to one against our success; but the fact that there was one slender chance for us was quite sufficient. Gaily we set about packing rucksacs and overhauling our camping outfit. As a concession to the cold, we added a piece of felt to line the floor of the tent and a blanket apiece, as well as a sleeping-bag; then we set out on March 21st for the Ball hut.
