The Matterhorn of the South: The 1909 First Ascent of Mount Aspiring

The Glistening Horn of Tititea

Rising in splendid isolation above the beech-forested valleys of western Otago, Mount Aspiring—known to Māori as Tititea, “the steep peak of glistening white”—is widely regarded as the most graceful mountain in the Southern Hemisphere. Its sheer triangular rock faces and gleaming ice fields earned it the enduring title of the “Matterhorn of the South.”

While Mount Cook had fallen to Tom Fyfe, George Graham, and Jack Clarke in 1894, Aspiring remained completely untouched fifteen years later. Guarded by impenetrable river gorges, trackless sub-Antarctic rainforests, and the vast, heavily crevassed plateau of the Bonar Glacier, the peak had repulsed several early exploratory forays.

In late 1909, English alpinist Captain Bernard Head arrived in New Zealand with a singular ambition: to make the maiden ascent of Tititea. To ensure success, Head engaged the two most celebrated alpine professionals in New Zealand: Jack Clarke, the veteran hero of Mount Cook’s 1894 ascent, and Alec Graham, the legendary guide from Franz Josef Glacier.

“Aspiring is an isolated monarch. When you look across the wilderness from Bevan Col, it stands like a soaring white fang against the western sky, daring any human being to set foot upon its ice.” — Jack Clarke, Alpine Notes, 1909

Into the Matukituki Wilderness

The expedition began far from the comfortable tourist trails. Starting from Lake Wanaka, Head, Clarke, and Graham loaded heavy swags onto pack horses, pushing up the broad braided shingles of the Matukituki River. When the riverbeds narrowed into boulder-choked gorges, they shouldered 30-kilogram packs, hacking through dense subalpine scrub and mossy beech stands.

Ascending the steep, tumbling torrents of the Hector River, they fought their way up vertical tussock slopes to gain Bevan Col at 1,800 metres. Stepping onto the col, the climbers were greeted by a breathtaking panorama: the vast, pristine expanse of the Bonar Glacier lay before them like a frozen sea, with the sharp pyramid of Aspiring soaring over 1,200 metres directly from the ice.

Clarke studied the mountain’s southwestern profile with expert eyes. The sheer southern face was swept by hanging serac avalanches, while the north ridge presented broken rock towers. However, connecting the Bonar Glacier to the upper southwest arête was an inclined shelf of ice: a natural ramp sloping upwards at 45 degrees.

The Assault up The Ramp

Before dawn on November 23, 1909, Head, Clarke, and Graham roped together and stepped onto the frozen snow of the Bonar Glacier. Walking by the cold light of the moon, Clarke navigated around yawning crevasses, testing snow bridges with his ice axe.

Reaching the foot of the mountain at 6:30 AM, they were confronted by a formidable obstacle: the bergschrund—a gaping, overhanging crevasse separating the moving glacier from the stationary mountain ice. Clarke probed the lip, found a narrow bridge of compacted snow, and crawled across on belly and knees before driving his axe deep to belay Head and Graham across.

Now began the supreme technical challenge: The Ramp. The slope rose at a sustained 45-degree angle, coated in hard blue ice that deflected kicked boot steps. With Clarke in the lead, the rhythmic ring of steel against ice echoed across the amphitheatre. Clarke cut deep, secure bucket steps, pausing every thirty feet to hammer a piton into the adjoining rock wall.

For three exhausting hours, the three men moved up the icy staircase, suspended directly above the Bonar abyss.

The Summit Horn

Breaching the top of The Ramp, the climbers emerged onto the knife-edge crest of the Southwest Ridge at 2,700 metres. Here, the ice gave way to shattered schist rock. Scrambling along the exposed arête, balancing on narrow ledges with precipitous drops on both sides, they ascended the final steep horn.

At 11:30 AM on November 23, 1909, Jack Clarke stepped onto the glistening summit ice cap of Mount Aspiring. Drawing Bernard Head and Alec Graham up to join him, the three men stood upon the virgin apex of Tititea.

The view was staggering: hundreds of unnamed, glaciated peaks stretched across the South Island wilderness, from the Tasman Sea in the west to the turquoise waters of Lake Wanaka in the east. To the northeast, the sharp pyramid of Aoraki / Mount Cook stood out against the horizon—a fitting greeting between New Zealand’s two greatest summits.

The trio safely retraced their route down The Ramp, completing what the New Zealand Alpine Club hailed as the cleanest and most brilliant alpine first ascent of the decade.