Mt Taranaki is a peak of great prominence, in many ways than one. It's probably one of New Zealand's top 3 most photographed mountains, along with Aoraki / Mt Cook and Mitre Peak down in Milford. Rising out of plains scarcely at sea level and shooting up to 2518m, it's also an incredibly pronounced landmark and a sight of great beauty.
Standing so far distinct from other conservation areas, Taranaki is also a peak that tends to attract climbing lifers. I used to be one of those when I lived in the region, and it's understandable - I could drive to Dawson Falls, get up and down the peak and be home in time for lunch. Compare that to the 3h drive just to get to Tongariro, and it's apparent why some locals have climbed the peak over a thousand times. I'm not that committed having been on top maybe 50 or 60 times, though I have done most of the ~20 different summit routes across all four seasons.
I no longer live in Taranaki, and it's a bit much to drive the 3h up for a day trip. We happened to be heading to New Plymouth for a catchup over ANZAC weekend though, and by some good fortune the Saturday was forecast to be smashing. I was somewhat hoping it would be free of snow to speed up the climb, though it unexpectedly turned out the opposite with excellent snow coverage right down to Tahurangi Lodge at 1500m. It ended up being quite lovely in that sense, peaceful up top and the opportunity to simply slap on crampons outside the lodge and leave them on until I returned.
Taranaki in winter isn't a technical prospect for climbers, but it is treacherous. It sees similar numbers of fatalities to Aoraki / Mt Cook, largely due to people slipping on its unforgiving ice and falling over bluff lines near the base of North Ridge - Hongis Bluff to the south, the Waiwhakaiho Bluffs to the north. Snowpack conditions do vary, but rime is a frequent issue especially on the upper slopes and sometimes the lower flanks have boilerplate ice with no real prospect of arresting a fall.
I had fortunately brought some alpine gear, an ice axe and some strap (i.e. C1) crampons with my regular tramping boots. I meant to bring a helmet too, but having dug mine out it became apparent that the webbing and padding was well degraded so I left it behind. Poor form for sure, and something I managed to regret soonafter entering the snowline - I was still expecting to largely be on scree as the mountain was almost bare before the recent front, and it was yet to clear enough to get a coverage perspective from the webcams.
I was supposed to be at the airport slightly before midday to collect a friend, but I didn't leave the New Plymouth accommodation until around 5:45am which meant a 6:30am departure from North Taranaki Visitor Centre (formerly North Egmont Visitor Centre). I was going in a bit blind regarding fitness, I'd done some mid-week trail running but no tramping since Travers-Sabine in late February. The last time I'd done more than 1000m of climbing in a day was Christmas, four months prior.
At the carpark, I got to reminisce in the beautiful rich pre-sunset hues to the east with the Tongariro peaks silhouetted. I had enough dawn light to vaguely see Taranaki itself, which indeed looked quite snowy. With no real time to waste, I locked the car and wandered upwards, briefly passing a group of people outside The Camphouse (DOC accommodation) awaiting the sunrise.
Watching the early hues of sunrise from the carpark.
A surprisingly snowy Mt Taranaki in the early light.
I managed to not miss the initial junction and went left onto Translator Road, the 4WD track which services the transmission architecture at Tahurangi Lodge. Taranaki is a bit funny like that, it's almost 1600m between the carpark and summit but the first 600m of that is essentially on road. The lower travel is easy, though occasionally oscillates up and down to find agreeable lines through gullies. It's also largely bounded by low scrub which allows delightful views.
An unobstructed view across to Tongariro National Park.
Heading up Translator Road with daybreak imminent.
It does eventually hit the cobblestoned section of road known as The Puffer, which climbs more steeply. From the base, I enjoyed a glorious sunrise across towards Ruapehu hundreds of kilometres away.
Sunrise over the eastern horizon from just below The Puffer.
At the top of The Puffer, I encountered Tahurangi Lodge and a smattering of others. I vaguely recalled that I used to reach the lodge in around 45 minutes when I was young and fit, so was content to see my watch read a little under 50 minutes. There was already snow around and the gully ahead ('Hongis Gully', the upper reaches of the Maketawa) looked infilled, so I took the chance to put crampons on for the first time in years and set on up. I managed to almost immediately trip on the ice axe leash, so perhaps getting a bit rusty with age.
The lower reaches of the gully were fine, but the trackline migrates to the true left and goes up stairs which run hard against the andesite bluffs that border the valley. Unfortunately, the blufflines were absolutely plastered with rime that was rapidly shedding with the second fine day after the storm. Even worse, the bluffs had shadowed the trail leaving it as bulletproof ice, a diabolical reintroduction to the peak.
Rime is deceptively dangerous, especially when it falls. It forms when the supercooled and moisture laden marine air impacts the peak and quickly aggregates on pronounced ridges, cliffs and outcrops. It quickly loses cohesion in higher temperatures and sheds in frequently large accretions, dropping dinner-plate sized blocks which hopefully shattered into less destructive shards as they drain down the peak's faces and valleys. Being so close to the source means they're often dropping almost whole, I did take one unfortunate impact to the arm but otherwise scampered through unscathed.
Clearing the confined section of valley unfortunately did not cease the hazards. The summer route climbs wooden stairs onto the scree of the lower North Ridge, but I just found horrendous hard ice overtopping the stairs. There were faces available on both sides, but there was hard riming on the rocks above which promised further difficulties. It would be a really bad place to fall, as the cliffs below are encountered immediately.
Despite knowing the peak reasonably well, I'd never really found myself in this specific situation before. Early season is often the worst time to climb as the snow coverage can be irregular and icy, and I'd historically mostly climbed from the south (closer to where I lived) or accessed North Ridge via the Around the Mountain Track (which relies on more snow coverage to avoid damaging the alpine vegetation). Another popular route called Surrey Road is available back to the south, but it would have meant a downclimb back to the lodge and no hope of getting up in the time available.
I took a gamble and commenced a rising traverse to my left, following ledges left by cleaved lava flows. These form what are unofficially called "Hongis Bluff" , a tiered series of cliffs which killed six people in 1953 after an unfortunate group fall. You do have to be a little careful, as the route cuts within a metre of the cliff edges but it offers otherwise easy travel upwards. The ledges are not free of the rime hazard though, and at one point I was reduced to sheltering behind a boulder after a particularly severe bout of shelling threatened my wellbeing.
I did finally reach more open faces above, entering a broad valley system informally known as "Snow Valley". True to its name, this valley mercifully held snow! It was well compacted and windblown, which made for excellent travel with just smatterings of ice as minor ridges were crossed. I tried to strike a balance between staying in the nadir of the gully which was channeling rime from the Surrey Road bluffs above, and avoiding the more pronounced ridges which were still very firm. This was perhaps the most delightful part of the climb, with travel only really limited by my inadequate fitness.
Finally clear of the ice below and into Snow Valley.
Delightful travel up Snow Valley ahead, the Surrey Road bluffs above.
By about 2200m, I was cognisant of the need to traverse. There are a couple of ridges and outcrops in the upper Snow Valley which need to be dodged, and I needed to get across to Crater Valley which is the depression which runs north of The Lizard. The traverse was easy, but I hit the Lizard a bit high - it is easy enough to just cut under its toe, but keen to avoid the extra elevation I pushed on through the crunchy rime in the hope of finding easier travel on the ridge's northern aspect. Mercifully, it came to fruition and I soon was back on snow with a cleanish run up towards the crater.
There are various outcrops and lava flows in the upper Crater Valley, and it's moderately steep. I was happy to largely bomb straight up, but there was an excellent bootpack from another climber present (must have climbed the day before) which switchbacked heavily. It's a serene setting, but also holds some tragic backstories.
Two climbers perished here from hypothermia in October 2013, after becoming separated from their large climbing party and ultimately getting benighted in a storm that swept the mountain. The coroner's report on the accident makes for painful but informative reading, and is a useful insight into the combination of factors that led to the tragedy. It can't be easily summarised in a few sentences and I'm loathe to pour more pain onto those still grieving, but a combination of fatigue, inexperience and inadequate gear selection led to the large group being held up on the East Ridge of the mountain into the late afternoon. Most bailed, but four ultimately reached a point east of Sharks Tooth and abseiled into the crater. By this point, the party had been going for 14 hours, it was dark and the front was rapidly intensifying. An attempt to descend Crater Valley in the dark resulted in one climber falling a few hundred metres and another descending to assist them, and both groups of two ultimately got stuck. The lower party remarkably survived the night at around 1500m and walked themselves out, but the upper party attempted to shelter on a shallow ice trench at 2320m and subsequently died from hypothermia a few days later after neither ground-based nor helicopter rescue teams were able to access the site due to the ferocity of the storm.
With Crater Valley cleared, it was time to enter the crater proper. The summit dome was absolutely coated in rime, but I ambled to the minor col which demarcates the two segments of the crater proper and that offered an icy albeit viable pathway to the summit proper. The summit was much as I remembered it from winters past, smatterings of snow benches hemmed in by rime mushrooms that adorn the outcrops.
Taranaki's crater rim in winter conditions, Sharks Tooth in the background.
A mixture of firm snow and ice just below the true summit.
I took off my gloves and had a quick bite to eat. I've generally found the summit conditions on Taranaki to be less severe than the Metservice forecasts, which inevitably predict windchills of around -20C in winter conditions. Perhaps you just acclimatise to temperatures that would make most shiver, but I didn't find it overly problematic to go barehanded for a few minutes while I snacked and took some photos. It's a magnificent vantage point with views in all directions, a peak that every Kiwi who possesses the athletic means should climb at least once.
The true summit block of Taranaki, there's a plaque buried in there somewhere.
Looking east towards the Taranaki bight, the circular forest margins mark the extent of the national park.
Perhaps the classic summit image, looking across Sharks Tooth towards Tongariro, Ngauruhoe and Ruapehu.
Over to Hawera and Fonterra's Whareroa factory.
The adjacent Pouakai Range.
I didn't have the luxury of a summit laze given the day's plans. I was a bit naughty and was already behind schedule, having taken 3h to get up. A bit longer than I used to take, but all the small things add up - not great conditions for quick climbing, a convoluted route up into Snow Valley, the perils of old age in your mid 30s.
Heading down off the summit was again a bit awkward, it's not always easy to visualise clean lines amongst the rime from above and the ice doesn't allow a visible crampon trail. It passed with care though, and I soon passed through the top of Crater Valley and dropped downwards towards the lodge.
About to regain the small col in the crater, the worst of the upper rime dealt with.
Looking across the Pouakai Range from the crater rim, this is basically the reverse image of that classic picture from the Pouakai Tarns.
I struggled to find my bootpack from the way up, though the one from the day prior was exceptional - I guess they had a much softer snowpack to deal with. I took a rightward swing at The Lizard and broke through, later records would show I had crossed at a slightly higher spot than my ascent but both went without issue. Then it was Snow Valley once more, a quick bomb shedding elevation until the lower cliffs were approached.
Rather than running the rime gauntlet down the ledges on the true left, I had an inkling that snow leads normally broke the lower cliffs and took a gamble on the direct run. It ended up being wise and functional, some scouting was required to pick a route through and one section involved some frontpointing for security due to the runout meeting cliffs in short order.
Back in the gully, there was a bit more hard ice to deal with. It's a very humbling experience crouching down on low angle terrain at 1600m to sink an ice axe pick into what you can, then kicking fumbling frontpoints a few mm into ice as you try to avoid falling over small boulders that would present no difficulty in summer conditions. There was a party of four practising snow skills in the gut lower down, they were delightful and accommodating of the awkward nature of my descent.
Back at the lodge, I chatted with a lovely couple as I doffed my crampons. Then it was down The Puffer and Translator Road in good order, encountering a surprising number of others before the carpark and my vehicle came into view. It had been about 4:50 of climbing, I was late for the airport pickup but alas - my friend was forgiving, and it had been a delightful and serene catchup with a mountain I hadn't seen in six years.
Trip Notes
* Taranaki is a beautiful peak, and a popular one in summer. The route that DOC advertises is North Ridge, broadly similar to the above route but it swings right coming out of the Maketawa and heads straight up scree on the ridge to meet the lower Lizard. It also climbs The Lizard directly and enters the crater via a ledge system, rather than utilising Crater Valley. Expect it to take a full day, some will finish earlier but getting caught out up high in darkness is not an experience for the fainthearted.
* In winter, it's not a technical peak (UIAA 1-) but it is very unforgiving. An unarrested fall above Hongis Gully has a reasonable chance of being fatal, due to the various bluff lines. The snowpack can be icy anytime, but generally is hardest in winter and mellows out over spring. By December / January, there are normally viable routes up that don't cross any snow except for the remnant crater ice (which doesn't require alpine gear).
* The South Face route is probably better for those starting out in alpine travel, as the snowpack tends to be slightly easier and the runouts more forgiving. This also has the benefit of allowing one to overnight at Syme Hut, meaning the maximum daily elevation gain is roughly 1000m.
* It's about 1600m of climbing to get up and down, roughly 13km of travel.