14 September 2022

A Winter Affair: The Pursuit

A film that follows New Zealand skiers Janina Kuzma and Sam Smoothy on a mission to summit Mt Tasman and ski down the Stevenson-Dick Couloir.

Words by Janina Kuzma

Mt. Tasman, New Zealand's second-highest mountain, stands at 3,497m on the main divide between Aoraki and Westland Tai Poutini National Parks. I wanted to ski Mt. Tasman, as I felt it didn't get as much attention as Aoraki/Mt. Cook or Tititea/Mt. Aspiring. We planned to climb the Stevenson-Dick Couloir from Abel Janszoon Glacier, summit and ski back down. The SD couloir is a continuous 800m line descending from the West ridge, averaging 40–50 degrees. The Stevenson Dick couloir isn't the most popular route to summit Mt. Tasman, but climbing your line before the descent as a skier is nice. This allows you to scope the skiing conditions and check out hazards. In addition to this film project, I also planned to sit my NZMGA ski guides exam. Dedicating the entire winter to the process, I wanted the film to document my preparations for Tasman throughout the season and my exam in spring.

We were almost ready for our mission when we got delayed with another covid lockdown. This, in turn, pushed back the ski guides exam and our Tasman trip.

Now into November, coordinating uncooperative weather with our media teams' schedules added further layers of complexity. A classic shit show. But somehow, finally, everything seemed to align. We were jetting off in a Hughes 500 from the lush green of the West Coast to set up camp on the Abel Janszoon Glacier.

We flew into Pioneer Hut, geared up. We set out across the Albert Glacier, under the Buttress and onto the Abel Janszoon Glacier. We decided to pitch basecamp at the upper end of the Janszoon, where we could see Mt. Tasman up close. From our campsite vantage point, we could study the approach, see the bergshrund and how the sun affected our line. Looking at the mountain and discussing the route made me feel excited and nervous. I'd planned to climb and ski this mountain for almost two years. Finally, I now stood and stared at this glorious peak from my tent, thinking I would tick it off and ski down. We discussed our plan, ate dinner and hit the sack in the light of day, ready for an alpine start. We woke at 1:30 am, giving us a reasonable time to cross the bergschrund, climb the couloir and set up the media team for the descent. We calculated around 6-7 hours to get to the summit before the sun would get too high and cook the NNE facing couloir as we climbed. Due to the position of the couloir to the sun, soft snow avalanches and rockfall are common. Having had to push back our mission to early November wasn't helping this factor either.

Setting off in the middle of the night, navigating the bergschrund in the pitch black took longer than expected. There were also a few concerns on the way up. These vast runnels from the spring erosion, smack bang in the middle half of the couloir, were over a meter deep and super icy. One fall climbing up or skiing down, and you'd tumble into the deep, open bergschrund at the bottom. Despite these concerns, I still felt confident and thought by the time we reached the top; the sun would have warmed the face enough to be skiing corn snow on the descent. Thankfully the climbing was pretty straightforward, with steep, firm conditions. We admired the sunrise as we were hiking up and was greeted with the forecasted clear blue skies. We knew there would be a little wind, but as we reached the top of the couloir, the wind was blowing much harder than we had expected—around 80km gusts instead of the 25km we had expected.

As we climbed out of the couloir and positioned on the ridge, We decided to leave the media team to attempt the summit without them. This meant they could film our ascent and descent from their location, and we might be able to move a little quicker without them, as the wind was still not easing off. So off we went along the ridge, the most exposed part of the climb. Both sides of the edge had a sheer vertical drop with tons of exposure, and you could see the ice on the windswept ridge to our right just glistening at us. One slip would be a slide down into the Balfour Glacier, resulting in sure death. We pitched along the ridge and reached a plateau before the last summit push. The wind was building and so intense we were almost getting knocked over. Gusts of wind came at us sideways, blasting snow in our faces, and we could hardly hear each other talk. Shouting over the wind to turn back, we all agreed without hesitation to turn around. No mountain summit is ever worth the risk when the wind blows that hard, and your safety is a factor. Unfortunately, that day was not the day, and the summit was out of reach. So reluctantly, we turned around just 150 vertical meters shy of Mt. Tasman.

Still, on crampons and axes on firm ice, we made our way back down to the freezing media team huddled on the ridge against the now howling wind. Unsurprisingly the couloir had not softened at all. Regardless Sam put his skis on, and we rigged him up for a ski belay decent into the couloir. While we dished out the rope fast enough for Sam to time it perfectly with each turn, I could hear his skis scrape and chatter over the hard ice like nails on a chalkboard, dashing any hopes it might have softened lower down. Off the rope, 100m down the couloir, Sam was full survival skiing with an axe in hand. I had doubts about skiing the couloir when Sam dropped in. Listening to his lovely commentary, mainly four-letter words, was a good indicator that I would be down climbing. So off I went, down climbing the line I had planned to ski all season. I was gutted I wasn't skiing it. Finally, a couple of hundred meters down, I found a spot to put my skis on, and I built a platform to put my skis on sketchily. Sam was just below in the dogleg of the couloir and yelled up to continue down climbing. After not summiting, I was keen to ski the line still and not have the trip be a complete failure. But I was happy with Sam's feedback not to ski it. The combination of the still icy conditions, the meter-deep runnels and the bergschrund at the bottom made the line an absolute 'no-fall zone'. When you are in the mountains on big faces, it's crucial not to allow your ego to dictate your decision-making, which can result in costly outcomes.

Once at the bottom of the couloir, with slightly softer snow, I found a safe spot under a rock where I could safely get my skis on to ski the remainder of the line. Arriving back at basecamp was bittersweet. I was happy I got down safely and was able to ski the last 300m but knowing the whole project was about skiing that one line meant I hadn't achieved the goal I had set. There was a sense of dissatisfaction, self-doubt, and feeling like I should have tried to ski the couloir. But I trusted my gut and relied on my intuition to make a high-risk, high-impact decision at the time. We all got home safely. That's the most important thing. Chilling in the sun at base camp, I processed what had just occurred. Even though we were 150m shy of the summit, we still got to 3347m, no small feat and the highest I'd ever climbed in New Zealand. I was stoked to look up and know that I climbed the couloir and came so close to summiting Mt. Tasman.

Meet the Athletes

ABOUT JANINA KUZMA

Seven-time New Zealand Open Freeski Champion, two-time Canadian Freeski Champion, two-time World Heli Challenge Champion and 2014 Winter Olympian, Janina is one of the top professional female skiers of her generation and one of the most confident all-round skiers out there. Janina now represents the highest standard of mountain professionalism as a registered mountain guide through the NZMGA.

Find Janina on Instagram

ABOUT SAM SMOOTHY

Sam has claimed many podium spots in his impressive skiing career, including memorable Freeride World Tour victories from 2011-2015, and most notably the title of New Zealand Snowsports Freeride Athlete of the Year in 2014. Sam has since shifted his focus to ski mountaineering, seeking out powder at the highest peaks throughout Europe and in his own backyard in New Zealand.

Find Sam on Instagram