Yank Steve Skelton has relocated to the NZ Alps and seems to be enjoying the place, the people and the new routing. More from him now …..

“Timing. Perfect timing. Being in the right place at the right time. You don't make it happen, you let it happen.

Being chased by a hungry rat, I raced down the Milford – Te Anau road in South Island New Zealand to reach the Homer Hut before 1 pm. The uncharacteristically good weather of Fiordland National Park made anything possible and at ten minutes past one, I decided my cut off time was bullshit!

I arrived at the hut, made a sandwich and began cranking up Homer Saddle en route to the McPherson/Talbot traverse. A popular route, the traverse involves a steep climb to the summit of Mt. McPherson, then a glacial traverse to the even steeper summit of Mt Talbot and a glacial descent back to the hut. I decided light and fast was the way to go.

While traversing a steep snowfield in my sneakers, I saw another party in the distance, roped up and weighed down with alpine gear. I waved from a distance and deviated my route.

I soon found myself in the hut cooking with a few other sifty climbers, one of who was Paul Rodgers, a man I knew previously. I told Paul I was a free agent and looking for climbing partners. Ten minutes later I was packing my bags for a weeklong, government sponsored expedition to establish routes on a 300-meter tall granite wall in the heart of the Darrans Mountains. Talk about timing!

Rodgers, along with guidebook author and seasonal Darrans dweller Craig Jefferies, first discovered Sinbad Gully Wall in 2003, establishing Shadowlands (27,A3). They returned this year with two of New Zealand best climbers, Mayan Smith-Gobart and Derek Thatcher and government sponsorship. The N.Z. SPARC fund was partly awarded to the team to establish quality routes in the Darrans in pure style and I was invited to piggyback along.

Sinbad Wall is extremely remote and there is no easy way to hike there, so we flew. Flying out of Milford Sound and into Sinbad Gully is like being ripped from civilization and plopped into a place so remote that even the sandflies don't know to bite you. The helicopter dropped Derek, Mayan, Craig and I atop a flat rock, the roof of our five-man bivvy and our base camp later dubbed the Diving Board.

The Diving Board protrudes from the base of an enormous U-shaped valley. Quartz and granite talus lead to the base of the impressive Sinbad Wall which encircles the valley, broken only by a distinct fault line and disappearing waterfall. It is the perfect setting!

So no shit there I was the next day dangling by my fingernails on a crisp, thin, quartz - filled line leading to some suspect flakes, protected by a jumble of directional slopers that faced the wrong direction.

"You're the aid climber, maybe you should take a look at this," I yelled down to Craig. We had no drill, no bolts and as things started to get desperate and our determination was building, the roar of an arriving helicopter broke the airy silence as Paul and Kester Brown arrived.

Kester is a prestigious climber and the leading force in the acquisition of SPARC funding but had recently put an axe through his leg and was unable to climb but keen to come be a part of the adventure and document it on film.

Craig and I retreated from our ambitious line, leaving it for another season and joined Paul on his mission to establish a moderate alternate to Shadowlands.

Paul is the leading force in Darrans route establishment and an ambitiously proud English geezer. I was anxious to learn from his experience and I followed him up the first pitch (21) of Shadowlands which kicks off through a bulge, then face traverses to an unprotected slabby finish. 

While leading the second pitch (20) I encountered a slimy alien on the wet, unprotected wall and quickly realized it was a gecko. The Department of Conservation was very interested in the habitat of geckos in Fiordland and was not aware of a certain species presence. Dreaming that discovery of the species could warrant a DOC sponsored trip return to Sinbad Gully, I quickly grabbed the lazy lizard and stuffed its slippery ass in my pocket. After traversing an awesome flake to an off-width crack, I landed on a bedroom sized ledge. We photographed the gecko and set it free underneath Shadowland's aesthetic, pencil thin third pitch.

Instead of continuing up this magnificent pitch, Paul began leading into new territory placing a few bolts and chain anchors at the belays. We climbed another two pitches on the new line before descending back to the bivvy for supper.

Derek and Mayan had been busy too. They were aiming for an obvious diagonal line that begins 1/3 the way up the wall and continues almost to the top. They established two variant first pitches and sorted out the third.

Over the next few days the weather was astoundingly good. Derek and Mayan managed to equip and free the first three pitches of their new route but finished one pitch shy of the diagonal feature. Paul, Craig, Kester and I forged our way up three new pitches right of Shadowlands, finishing 2/3rds of the way up the wall.

While the sane few of the bunch elected to return to Milford in a helicopter, Craig and I forfeited our ride to take advantage of our position and explore an unsung ridgeline, descending to the famous Milford Track.

Leaving early Saturday morning we adopted the theory "The more we forget, the less we carry!" We busted up the tussock covered east wall of the cirque until atop Sinbad Wall. Behind the wall, a half-frozen hanging lake and its steep banks forced us to nearly summit one of the Llawrenny Peaks before we traversed southwest along an exciting knife-edge ridge. Views of the ocean, deep valleys and the gatekeeper peaks accompanied us as we finally gained our lonely chosen ridge, somewhere between Mt Danger and Terror Peak!

After a great night’s sleep on a perfect bivvy ledge, we leisurely ate breakfast and prepared ourselves for the descent down Steep Hill. Oh fuck is it steep! Steep Hill descends 1,600 meters elevation over two kilometres. We abseiled off a wrist-thin root, kicked footholds into plumb mud and down-climbed vertical tussock grasping the grass like it was solid rock. Then we hit the tree line.