had been roped together since leaving camp, so, after a short halt, we started on more serious work. Our route lay up very steep snow-slopes for about 3,000 feet, which required step-cutting all the way—the final 600 feet to the summit was along a sharp snow arête. All rocks were so plastered with icicles that it was impossible to tackle them, so that it was just a matter of step-cutting, and we at last stood on the highest point of Aspiring. The wind, however, had again risen, and clouds started to drive up thickly again from the north—so the view, which would undoubtedly have been a magnificent one, was hidden from our eyes; Mount Cook could just be discerned away in the dim distance, jutting through the cloud-bank. With the weather threatening, we could not afford to linger more than a few minutes on the top. The descent was made in good time, retracing our steps made in the ascent. Misty clouds enveloped us occasionally during the descent and also crossing the snow-field. . . . I am afraid you will get weary of this rather rambling account, but still trust you may find something of interest in it. . . .
“Sincerly yours,
“Alex. Graham.”
