Bill McLeod in His Own Words: A Rare Look Inside a Solo Alpinist’s Mind

There are climbers whose reputations are built on headlines, and others whose stories spread quietly, carried through word of mouth and half-known accounts. Bill McLeod sits firmly in the latter.

A late starter by most standards, McLeod didn’t begin climbing until his thirties, yet went on to establish himself as one of New Zealand’s most committed and unconventional alpinists. Operating largely outside the spotlight, he became known as much for his bold, often solo ascents as for his refusal to engage with publicity. For many, his climbs were familiar, but the person behind them remained largely unknown.

Bill McLeod: Mountaineering Legend changes that. Drawn from decades of personal letters, the book offers an unfiltered look into how McLeod thought about risk, ambition and the mountains themselves. His writing is direct, dry at times, and deeply reflective, capturing the tension between fear and attraction that sits at the core of alpinism.

What emerges is not just a record of difficult climbs, but a portrait of a climber driven by something harder to define. There’s a constant negotiation in his words between caution and commitment, between partnership and solitude, and between the pull of big objectives and the reality of what they demand.

The following extract, written in 1993, captures McLeod mid-project as he turns his attention to the south-west face of Mt Hopkins. It’s a window into his process: obsessive, analytical, and quietly intense, with just enough honesty to expose the edge he was operating on.

Paines Ford, a favourite crag of many climbers. Here Bill applies the power on High Voltage. Image by Kristen Foley

In June 1993 Bill completed a solo climb, Orinoco Flow, on the 1000m high face of Mt
McKerrow. But it was the nearby south-west face of Mt Hopkins that had for some time
held his attention. The south-west face is an awesome 1000m-high wall frowning down on
the head of the Richardson Glacier. It can be seen in profile from as far away as Dog Kennel
Corner, east of Lake Tekapo.

Bill’s reaction to it was visceral:
Hopkins S.W. Face – How does it look? Huge, appalling, every time I looked up caused a false
alarm toilet stop. Perhaps I’ve never been so scared. If this is not the most appealing
mountain around I want to know what is. Big – steep – preposterous.

The climb itself should not be very difficult under present conditions. It’s just the look of it
that’s amazing. My guess is that pitching would make it seem easy up until the last 4-5
pitches. Is a bit steeper at the top. Crux at the top. After 2500ft of commitment. Solo?
‘Do I want to’ Oh Yes. A 1000m climb three days from the road. This is a true quest Ross and
there is nothing I love more than full blooded Questing.

Still I’ll keep my ears open for a partner. There is a very fine line to my mind. Climbing alone
on steep climbing could be either a fine thing, or simply an immature stunt. Depending how
you view the subject. I try to cover my bets by seeking a climbing partner firstly, but pressing
ahead if none eventuate. I’ve noticed many times that the true exhibitionist stunt goes
wrong too often to ignore the fact.

Nine days later, on 12 July, Bill wrote with news of his return to the head of Hopkins valley.
His letter was four pages of a small writing pad, the pages held together with a pin. He had
added another small page with the route description for Gormenghast and a foolscap-sized
page with his sketch of the face and climb, drawn carefully in blue ball point:

Hello again. Hope things are on an even keel again. I expect it’s been a hassle with insurance
men and car dealers! Oh the joys of motoring. Still we must have mobility.

Well you probably noticed the weather was rather perfect recently. So here is the Route
description for Mt. Hopkin’s Dark Face.

As you know this face has been on my mind. (Actually for years.) But over the last months.
The South Ridge trip was a recce. The Rabbiters Peak with binoculars was a recce. The
McKerrow S.E. Face was a recce.

Before leaving I filled my head with Enya, and my belly with dates. Then started walking
early Wednesday morning. Thursday bivvied beneath the face but didn’t look up much.
Except once or twice and had to marvel at my own audacity. This must be the Mountain of
Mountains. And this must be the face of faces. Even that sighting as you come through the
Mackenzie Country. This distant tower with cloud banner, a sight to captivate any mountain
enthusiast surely.

Friday was the perfect day weather-wise. The climb is delight. Not overly difficult. A section
of bits and bobs on rock and ice lace work when well up under the top. You can imagine the
gap in the line about 2500ft up was on my mind prior to the day. Of course on the day itself I was so utterly primed and feeling so light that it didn’t occur that something could be too
difficult. (It takes me a few months to build nervous energy to that level.)

Fiddle around under the cornice for a bit, then step onto the summit. And there was silly little
Black Tower right under my elbow. (But I didn’t laugh because that saga is yet to start.)
The first part of the descent route is a fine witches’ brew when covered in cornices,
mushrooms, sastrugi, and rubbish powder. I marvelled at the fact that it was keeping me
honest, this descent route. But once off it with a chance to look back up the reason
was obvious. Had my marks not been there to show otherwise I [would] have said
‘Impossible’.

Yet I know these pinnacled ridges in winter and fear the descents more than any hard moves
on nice steep face climbing. This time I was able to abseil off mushrooms. Or just cut a metre
into the ridge and abseil from that. A bit spooky at first but became standard fare. (Actually
wouldn’t have minded a partner on the descent.)

You might notice I’ve marked another route on the Topo. With a rope mate, might have
done that one because the overhang intrigued me. But it was no good for solo of course.
That route would be a little harder and really needs a rope although Gormenghast has such
a stunningly beautiful finish that it near makes up for the overhang entry pitch on the other
route. When viewing the face from Mockery Col which gives a true front angle view of the
face it was a toss-up which route was nearer the centre of the face. But Gormenghast was
far more delicate, and the top pitches looked stunning. A white thread angling up the
vertical top section. Whereas the right route finished up a broad ramp and
lacks some appeal at that point. Oh dreams.

Wish you had been there Ross. Using the rope always gives a climb a feeling of more worth
and complexity. I love pitching. (And you could have lowered me down the descent ridge.)
But it wasn’t to be sadly.

Today parked at Lake Wardell, unwinding. The clouds are Iron grey and it looks like death
coming. (My washing has frozen.) (Will be a sleeping bag full of wet socks tonight.)

There is a lot on my mind. Next project is getting some thought, some worry. I’m so used to
living in terror that I need something uncertain, unknown, unlikely on my mind to feel
complete. But above everything the blackest fear I live with is ‘The Helicopter Climber.’ They
could be stealing my projects in the time it takes me to pack my food bundles. Thank
goodness they have never discovered Hopkins, maybe in a few years they’ll fly past one day
and see our Mountain.

My next plan takes me to the Cook Park. But not a sheep track. I’ve got a long standing
project and must get to it before the local fly boy hit men. One plodder pitted against the
entire might of the NZ airborne division.

Cheers for now, I’ll keep in touch.
Bill

Gormenghast is graded V, 5+ *. Bill enjoys reading, with a preference for older novels
including those by nineteenth century authors. His choice of route name comes from the
title of Mervyn Peak’s Gormenghast, the second of his trio of novels.

You can purchase a copy of Bill McLeod: Mountaineering Legend here.