Hi all, this letter just arrived - it was sent out weeks ago with a couple of tired climbers and miraculously it has appeared finally from the Christmas chaos of mail delivery. It is dated 20th December '09.

Dear all and greetings from Forbes Flat in the Hunter Valley. Here are some of the highlights of the past few days, (beginning 16th Dec):

Richard, Rion and I decided to walk up to Brewster Hut, NE of Haast Pass, having emerged from leg 2 out of the Young River a few days ago and ahead of schedule. The hut itself is in a magical spot on a grassy knob high above the bushline, and we were glad to spend a relaxing afternoon here in fine weather before the next days summit attempt on Brewster.

At 4am the next morning we headed up the hill under clear night skies. There is a few hundred metres of climbing and sidling over the exposed Pyke creek tributaries before we reach the terminus of the pristine Brewster Glacier and the start of the approach proper. Rion has come to a snow gulley. "There's a small hole here below this ledge," he warns me. "I'm gonna jump it."

"Sweet," I say, not expecting him to actually jump. But no, he launches himself over this gap and immediately his feet wipe out. The runout is OK and he only slides about 10m. I step over the hole and walk down to him. "Awesome," he says as I hand him back his axe, "blood and battle wounds, I'm so hard core!"

We took the ridge to the East of the glacier rather than the glacier itself, to save time and gain height faster. It was a long plod in soft snow. We looked back and upwards, and spied Richard already on Mt Armstrong. Good thing he was standing face on, or we never would have seen the stick figure that he is! We were exhausted and jealous.

About 150m vertical below the summit things livened up. Rion soloed part way up the south ridge arete and laid anchor. I followed shortly with the rope. I lead the first traverse around some steep rocky and icy terrain to access the south face. I was at my first belay when I saw the beast below me. A big grey heffalump crossing hte glacier. His strong angular facial features instantly distinguished him as Herby. We sometimes recognise eachother and exchange a friendly nod without word, which suits me perfectly.

But today I find myself fearful of a confrontation. Uneasy feelings wash through me like rice water through a seive, and yet the heavy weight of anxiety hangs in my stomach, quite unable to escape this fine wire cage of emotion. Without knowing the reason, I am blindly certain that to make eye contact with Herby the heffalump on this morning would bring certain death.

My eyes follow the beast as its swaying tale descends into the ice. These creatures spend cold winters roaming the valley floors where their monstrous thirty foot frames are easily concealed by the giant daisies. However as the glaciers begin to awake in mid summer, these ice worlds become broken mazes of caverns and alleyways. The heffalumps, once forced from the valley by torrents of silted meltwater, make the treacherous climb to the neves and seraces where they make these ice caves their own. Blubbery and glutenous though these creatures are, it is hard not to appreciate their beauty as they move with an eerie display of ease and delicateness.

I awake from my wandering stupor to Rion's tug on the rope. In an instant my insecurities in the presence of this grey beast vanish entirely. The man on the other end is my brother and to feel this twine's connection is like a hearty embrace. Progess becomes swift. The thrid pitch saw some interesting dry tooling and dodgy holds, squeezing up some exposed rock to gain the summit ridge. An eerie traverse east along a knife-edge ridge brought us to the summit. This was such a satisfying climb and Rion and I are definitely growing our skills. We high fived, cracked a Coke and enjoyed looking down on all those snow covered peaks, and back to Mt Aspiring from whence we'd come. The view made it easy to ignore 60kmh winds.

Following this great day (us on Brewster and Richard on Armstrong) we walked down and camped again at Cameron Flat, before saying our goodbyes to Ric and heading in to Makarora Hut. The next day was a long ten hours; bush-bashing up behind Makarora hut and crossing Scrubby Flat Saddle before finding our way down the creek to the Hunter Valley and Ferguson's hut. Hard work but heaps of excitement packed into a day. Today, a crossing of the Hunter, a short walk up to Forbes Hut for a wash and a load of clothes washing (can you believe it!) some letter writing and thank you all for reading!

Five days till Christmas but it will no doubt all be over before this letter flies North.

With song and festive embrace, Rion and Andy

(I had meant that Christmas would be all over, but double meaning now I guess...oopsies Rion)