VIII 
A RISKY DESCENT 
245 
as it flows away into Lake Tekapo — but what a slide 
down it looks to reach those plains. It was impossible 
to walk foot over foot on this steep, rotten and crumbling, 
shingly cliff, so, catching hold of the guide’s hand, we 
put our feet together and slid down for the first 200 
feet, then, chamois-like, we jumped from step to step 
over the slippery moss and great stones, through stunted 
bush and wiry grass. It went against the grain to ask 
for help, after coming against advice, so I struggled on 
alone till I could not now hold out without a helping 
hand, and even with that my experience was a painful 
one. I was a sorry-looking object when I limped into 
the Hermitage at half-past nine at night ; no one gave 
me a word of sympathy, and I felt that it was a hard 
and unfeeling world. 
I woke next morning with a flood of sunlight in my 
room, and went through various acrobatic feats trying 
to dress, but it was useless. My ten hours’ hard 
tramping had so strained every muscle that I was a 
prisoner for two days. Then the rain came down in 
bucketsful, but time was too precious to lose another 
day, so braving wind and weather I started off with a 
guide, over the wire suspension bridge on to the great 
solid blocks of ice-cliffs, which here and there were 
being quickly undermined. While we stood watching, 
the flood carried one huge mass away, making the 
waters leap again in crested waves three and four feet 
high as they went rolling down. 
Along the Hooker Glacier the mountains were all clad 
in mists. Here and there only a white peak was visible, 
and the world looked cold, gray, and dripping. Later 
on a fierce storm broke over Mount Cook, the nor’wester 
blew a hurricane, and for two days we were in dense 
masses of cloud and mist. 
The next coach brought some fresh passengers in, 
