Day 8 (pm): Saturday December 30 1933
This is where the mistake of the journey occurred. On the map we were using, the Minchin Pass was shown at the end of the first left hand stream past the gorge. In the account it had been stated that Minchin was a low pass and this seemed to suggest, looking at nature of the country, that the pass lay up the tight stream. Still we could see that the left stream turned to the right and so we thought the pass might be a low one round the bend.
Therefore, as I say, in accordance with the map, we made up through steep deer tracks on to a high spur, which looked directly down on the junction. Our reason for keeping to the bush was that the stream had developed a precipitously cliff'd gorge and we had to make above the bluffs. We followed the tracks until the stream was a mere trickle in a rocky valley at the head of which was a ridge about 5000 ft. The valley developed into a grassy basin with the pass, so it seemed to us, up a slushy, rocky, stream to the left and thus over the ridge. By the way, the height of this ridge suggested to us that this was the main divide and this further mystified us. After a discussion we made up the stream, which was very nearly a waterfall until it faded out and then in short spurts gained the snow, which lay among the tussocks on the ridge. We were all on top by 4:50 pm. Over on the other side could be seen the river which we thought must be the Taramakau, and so, anxious to gain the valley before darkness, we went down the tussocky, snowy slope. 5 pm.
In one part, in attempting to cross a slide of snow, I slid all sight - about 20 ft., a boulder stopping further progress. Soon we struck a very steep shingle slide, which necessitated keeping about 20 yds apart, due to boulders being sent down by those above. Further down this slide developed a cliff face and so, clinging to tussocks and small bushes we went over the rise on the left. It was here Reg had a scare. He happened to be about 200 yds down the slope and had all the rest in sight except myself. He knew I was over the rise somewhere and was looking out for me when he saw something dark like an arm come over the top, flutter and then throw up and fall back. He was sure I had slipped and fallen down the face, but much to his relief a kea flew over the ridge and he knew then he had taken the bird's wing for an arm. Over the spur, we had to work round another shingly bluff to the next spur down whose steep slope we climbed.
Here we stopped to observe 2 chamois on a parallel spur against the skyline. It was fairly tough going as we crashed and pushed ourselves through the small scrub down the slope. Finally we found ourselves on a deceiving shingle slope, which looked as though it sloped to the river, but at the end of the slip, the river was still a quarter of a mile away. We reached the stream at 6:15 having taken 1¼ hours to descend between 2 and 3000 feet. We intended to rest 10 mns but a halo of sandflies caused us to push on for another ¾ mile where we stopped to make camp as darkness was now falling. The tents were pitched in semi-darkness. Difficulty being experienced in procuring pegs. Tea 8:30 pm: stew, plum pudding, reduced cream, bully beef, oxo, tea. Sitting around the fire after tea we had time to admire and appreciate the wonderful scene. A deep long valley, shadowed on the lower slopes by brush and scrub, with occasional shingle slips and bluffs showing gray against the somber background; to the North, the snow-flecked tops; a wonderful starry shy with the bright moon just appearing over the ridge, while behind us, at the other end of the valley, the Southern Cross, bright in an illumined sky.
Bed 10:30. This was the last time we had need to erect tents, though by now this was no hardship as we were fairly experienced. Especially can I claim expertness a erecting a tent, having put up the tent carried by Huia and myself each night by myself as Huia generally was cooking the tea while we hammered the pegs.
Mileage for day was 6 miles.