Return to greenery

On the 24^th we left Port Lockroy for the journey back to trees and grass. This time we sailed between Anvers and Brabant Island, through the Melchor Islands. From here we could see the northern aspect of Mt Francais as well as the bottom half of the Iliad Glacier. The last vision of Antarctica was a thin line of black and white between fog and sea, before the fog and sea met and the Southern lands disappeared.

The passage across the Drake was as good as it gets, apparently. 20-30 knot westerly winds and a sea not too rough meant we crossed in just over 3 days – a very good time. Sleeping the first night was rather cold. The ship's hull next to my bunk on the lee side was now under almost freezing water, and the frigidity crept through.

In the rough conditions I managed to make a big patch of ANZAC biscuits. My Australian contribution to the baking.

On the 27^th I awoke to the entrance of the Beagle Channel. Rolling verdant hills.  The boat anchored at Estancia Harberton, what was a massive sheep station, now home to an historic homestead and a whale research institute. Lunch was on the deck in the warm sun, dressed in t-shirts and drinking white wine. Most of us went for a quick swim. Warmer than Antarctic waters but not by much! I jumped off the mast from the spreaders that are above the water. A fun 8 metre drop.

In the afternoon some of us collected local berries including the calafate, which is the more renowned Tierra de Fuego fruit. They made a fabulous berry crumble that evening. Then we had a quick look around the farm before a tour of the cetacean (whales and dolphins) institute. They collect dead cetaceans and do research on the bones. The first thing we were shown was a rotting humpback whale head slowly decomposing under a tarpaulin. A bit smelly. The tour took in a shed full of dolphin skulls and spinal columns and other various animals' remains. Interestingly gruesome. It was like a CSI episode or the garage of some serial killer.  Inside the main building it was more sterile – flesh was now off the bones, and they had reconstructed the skeletons of many local animals, and we had a quick look in the lab.

On our final full day we moved the yacht to Gable Island, to a lovely anchorage off a shingle beach. After collecting a large quantity of timber, a few of us went beaver hunting. The beavers are introduced and are rather a pest as they build dams which then denigrate the environment. We found a dam and got a few good photos of one swimming about.

That evening we had the beach party. The last lamb was slowly barbequed over hot coals for about 5 hours, held up by sticks in a sculptural and engineering marvel. We sat around the fire drinking G&T with calafate berries, with a  bit of Frisbee throwing and a lot of silly chatter. As it got dark the lamb was devoured with relish, eaten with calafate compote and dandelion leaf salad. After a few more red wines we saw a more charismatic side to some people's personality. Back in the boat there was also a comical display of dancing to AC/DC using poles, by the more "mature" members of the team.

So now we are approaching Ushuaia. An amazing month is rapidly coming to an end. I have spent the entire last 4 weeks with 12 wonderful people, living closely and sharing many things, especially good times, adventures and much laughter. But as we depart I can head home to 4 more special people.

Mounts Demaria and Luigi

A late morning start on the 22^nd and on to Yalour Island, to which I kayaked from the yacht. We paddled between the pinnacles of a large iceberg – as long as it doesn't roll it's safe. Yalour has a well established Adelie Penguin colony. Adelies were the Mexican characters in Happy Feet. They are a true Antarctic penguin, like the Emperor, as they winter over on the ice. This is about as north as they go, but Gentoos are slowly overtaking their breeding sites as the peninsula warms.  Adelie penguins have the most comical gait of all, so are a joy to watch. Many penguins here are moulting their feathers – just standing around in feather boas, or so it looks.

On the way to Cape Tuxen there were minke whales swimming under the boat. Very cool.

We decided to investigate Mount Demaria. It had a nice looking snowline all the way from the shore to its 650m summit. Maybe a little steep, but it looked good. Up closer it seemed a little steeper than expected – 45 degrees or so, and the bottom half was a series of parallel lines where rocks and mini avalanches have scoured the snow. On landing we could see that it was indeed steep, but the avalanches were not recent and they were just the scars of occasional large rocks. Five of us started, then one by one the number dropped til just Nick and I were left. The problem was that the slope was coming into the shade and the soft snow was freezing hard. Skiing down a rough, icy, 45 degree slope that dropped 300m was putting people off. If the edges don't stick you are gone. So I pulled out too, half way up, just before we were due in the sunshine and the slo pe eased. The ski was not particularly enjoyable, or scary. Well, may be a little. As I was worried about stuffing the turn and falling  and sliding forever I did sitting turns, where I sat back on the snow and flipped my skis 180 degrees to ski back the other way. We all got off fine. A good learning experience, not a waste at all.

That evening we sailed back through the Lemaire Channel and had the sun setting behind Booth Island, before anchoring back at Port Lockroy.

The next day was our last land day, so we all set off to attempt Mt Luigi. At 1300m it is an impressive peak from the boat, with 1000m cliffs rising to a fluffy summit dome. We were to skirt around the back. After getting around some icy bays on glaciers, we then rose up the Thunder Glacier. It has large cliffs either side topped by seracs, which are massive ice blocks slowly peeling off the mountain and ready to drop at any time. And today was such a day. A serac avalanched at the top of the glacier as we were half way up and sent a massive cloud of ice and snow that reached the opposite cliffline.  We crossed the debris later – if we had been in the way at the time there would be no harm done apart from pockets of fine snow and post-traumatic stress disorder.

Not soon after and not related to the avalanche, Toby had to turn back, with Rob and Skip escorting him. We had to pass some pretty impressive crevasses before reaching the ridgeline, our route to the summit. A short but very steep snow slope had us putting crampons on, but we were soon back on skis. It was a perfect ridge with nice wide snow terraces and views down to sea on either side and Mt Francais to the west. Clouds milled about other peaks but Luigi stayed clear. Then we came to an impasse at 950m. There was a very narrow ridge for a while before the summit dome that was basically just seracs towered upon more seracs like a balls of dough thrown together. This was not a job for today. Seracs had been avalanching all day in the warm air. It was late and we were too many and frankly too inexperienced, apart from Stephen and Rodrigo. So we picnicked at t he "Skier's Summit". The ski down was fun but the snow a little thick. I walked down the very steep bit as the landing zone if on skis was only a few metres wide – to the left was a large crevasse, to the right was a fall to the glacier of a few hundred metres. Putting skins back on the skis to come over the final bay-glacier was a trudge, but it was sadly our last ski. That's two failed summits in two days, but no regrets. Great days out.

So, back on the boat and much busyness as we packed all our skiing and climbing stuff away. Three weeks in the salty sea air had rusted the ski edges so they needed a quick sandpaper and a covering in dry wax, the usefulness of which I doubt.

So that was skiing mountaineering in Antarctica.

Mt Scott, iceclimbing, swimming and Vernadsky

Now at last we got to step foot onto the continent itself. To the south of the Lemaire Channel is Mt Scott. We were deposited on the rocks below a steep snow slope, to the right of which was a high rocky pinnacle which occasionally threw rocks down, and to the left was a steep ice fall as a glacier flowed into the sea. To the north of this was an 800m cliff.

Immediately off the shore a rope was fixed as we climbed in crampons to a snow ledge at a craggy wall, and then we traversed left on another fixed rope until the angle eased. I felt it was a little too steep and icy for skis so continued to go straight up on crampons, enjoying the exposure but as we navigated back and forth through some crevasses, I remember why I had had a hiatus in my mountaineering career. It was not hard or particularly scary, but if you slip and don't arrest the fall then, well, that's why there's a body bag in the medical kit. The crampons are certainly safer than skis for steep ground, as there are 24 sharp points on your feet that really grip the ice, and you have an axe in your hand to also pin yourself to the mountain and stop any slide. It really wasn't that dangerous, I just think it's good to think about these things to both appreciate the situation and manage the risk.

Anyway, the slope eased and we roped up on skis to get up the glacier, onto a saddle and down onto the wide, main glacier. Now it was a few hours slog up to the top. There were a few crevasses to negotiate including a rather wide one that narrowed to a metre or so with a strong snow bridge that allowed passage. Crossing it I could gaze down into the bright iridescent blue slot with respect, excitement and trepidation.

On reaching the top of a snowy peak, we realised we were not at the true summit, but from here the views were absolutely spectacular, straight along the Lemaire Channel, with Mt Francais nicely framed above. The tennis court sized summit and lack of breeze meant we could take a few photos and really enjoy some time there. Four of us felt a strong, purist urge to continue to the true summit which only took  10 or so extra minutes and was 50m higher!

The ski down had some amazing snow on it. Just beautiful. Then across the crevasses, onto the saddle and back down the side glacier, carefully following our previous tracks which show the pathway through the crevasses that had been tested for integrity on the way up. The final steep descent was really fun – dropping almost straight down to the icebergs and the sea. The very final, very steep bit we skied on abseil – another new experience.

That evening we sailed west to the Argentine Islands to anchor for two nights. Nick brought out his special whiskey – a reproduction of both the bottle and liquor of that taken by Shackleton on his Nimrod expedition to Antarctica in 1909, a case of which was only recently found under his hut. Rather tasty and quite special.

The next day we were staying put. I had a silly idea to traverse along a raised mooring line to the land, which worked until the boat moved and I got a wet bum,but then with a little help from the zodiac in the middle bit to stop me getting wet, I could continue my escape. Just harmless skylarking with boats and ropes. The rest of the day was spent climbing on the ice cliffs that form on the western and southern sides of Whoozle Hill on Galindez Island. The first relatively easy slope I soloed but after that I climbed on top-ropes that Stephen had set up on ice-screw anchors. Four climbs were established, involving up to 8 or so metres of vertical, with a bit of overhanging. Ice climbing involves using crampons on the feet, with most of the weight being taken by 2 sharp points at the front which you have to kick into the ice, and ice axes, which have angled p icks that are driven into the ice until they bite solidly so that you can take weight on them. So there are four points of contact with the ice, moving one at a time. As the angle of the wall steepens, it becomes exponentially harder. The vertical to slightly overhanging ice I found rather difficult. I did not fall but the forearms burned as I held the axes tightly and they took on more and more body weight, with less weight on the feet. The pros do this for hundreds of metres. I barely did 8.

It was a relatively sunny afternoon, so it was time for a swim! Certainly it is one of the must-dos in Antarctica. So, down to undies, quickly step in, dunk the whole body and head, and get rapidly out of the water. All up I was probably in the water for about 20 seconds, and overall it was not nearly as painful as I thought it would be.

Stephen planned to lead a 30m ice climb on the southern wall, so I went to photograph and observe. He put ice screws in the wall as he went up, slowly but very confidently and calmly. It was a good insight into his renowned mountaineering abilities.

Earlier we had a look around Wordie House, a British base built in 1947, now restored. Later the British built a larger, modern base nearby on Galindez Island. It is the oldest continually manned base in Antarctica. It was from here that the ozone hole was discovered. In 1996 they sold the base to the Ukrainians for one pound, which was renamed Vernadsky. After dusk we went for a visit, taking half a case of wine. They were very welcoming and friendly, giving us a quick tour before we all settled in the bar, which is well known as the best in Antarctica, looking a bit like a traditional English pub. There were darts and Russian billiards, and tastings of their homemade sugar vodka. I was feeling very tired but it was a wonderful visit.

Rescue on Hovgaard

From Anvers Island the Pelagic Australis took us south. First past Cape Renaud and its dual peak feature know as Una's Boobs, or something similar. Then through the Lemaire Channel, which is the waterway between the mainland and Booth Island.  This dramatic strait is only a km or so wide, with 800m peaks rising almost vertically either side. It is also known as Kodak Gap, but maybe SanDisk Strait would me a more appropriate modern name. The way was not so straight through due to a lot of ice filling the channel, but a bit of gentle barging through the brash ice got us through. Humpback and Minke whales and penguins were busy feeding all around.

 

We were dropped on the eastern shore of Hovgaard Island. The granite boulders were full of spherical crystals that looked like fossilized jellyfish. This was an easy afternoon ski tour – over the 350m ice dome, a very enjoyable time. We traversed over to the other side, where the boat was anchored for the next couple of days at Pleneau Island. As we were on the final descent a group of tourists from another yacht that we were moored up to were walking up the hill. We were on skis and had climbing equipment and ropes, so we were pretty safe in regards to crevasses.

 

There was a hearty meal and lots of wine. When I came out from a shower there was lots of activity, with people running around getting dressed. Apparently one of the fellows from the next door yacht had fallen down a crevasse and they couldn't get him out. So the three leaders with Rob the GP and Nick headed back up the hill and pulled him out after abseiling in, attaching a harness, and setting up a pulley type system to haul with. They brought him, Carl, a Swede, back down in a pulk. He was a bit hypothermic so we changed his wet clothes for warm dry textiles. The next issue was a large gash to his chin that went through to his gum. I gave him some local anaesthetic and washed it out so Rob could put in some sutures. Having climbers and doctors at hand proved rather beneficiary for Carl.

 

The next day was a rest day at Pleaneau. Some of us were zodiaced over to the island and I wandered amongst the Gentoo penuins, always trying to maintain the 5 metre separation rule, but sometimes it is hard when they are everywhere. When I was dive bombed by skuas I was probably a little too close to their nest, wherever it was. There were weddell seals sleeping on the rocks, and fur seals trying to look aggressive. Our search for supposed blue-eyed shag and Antarctic tern nesting sites proved fruitless. Tony and I kayaked back, really enjoying paddling amongst the icebergs, the turquoise aura of the lower 90% looking somehow inviting for a tropical island swim.

Escape from Anvers Island

The wind has settled but it still occasionally tries to blow you over. It is a complete whiteout, but the light is OK. Time to go. Awake at 5 for breakfast and coffee, a process which somehow takes one and a half hours. Then it takes 5 hours to dig the tents and pulks out of the snow, and to pack and collapse the tents.

 

When we finally get going, the problem is navigation. About 2 metres of snow is visible in detail before the whiteness of the snow melded into the sky in a thousand shades of white. The third person carries the compass and shouts directions to maintain course. We are heading back to Access Point, almost directly south. At one stage the cloud does lift for an hour or so, but generally the whole day was spent in both dreary yet somehow beautiful visual deprivation. When we came a cross a large crevasse, all 9 or us get attached to one rope, with sleds. Every movement is a cluster of clumsiness. We zigzagged using GPS waypoints to avoid some crevasse fields, and again the roping up for the final crevassed descent to the seas was rather comical, if not extremely annoying. Stephen put a ski and half a body in one crevasse, so it was all worth while.

 

Ah, the sea! 28km over 11 hours. A stella and exhausting effort. We set up tents on small patch of snow and rested well.

 

The problem for the next day was the sea. A sou'wester brought in a large swell that made getting into the Zodiac impossible. We were stuck here for another day. I explored the point, coming across, an Adelie penguin and a few Gentoos, a Weddell seal, Antarctic fur seals, skuas and gulls. Quite a nice day. As light fell the sea settled, but it was not til the next day we were evacuated from Anvers Island, on day 9! What a relief.

Blizzard

For the next 2 days the nor'wester blizzard blew. The gusts were incredibly powerful, as they malformed the tent structure and it shuddered. I reckon the winds were up to 100km/h. On the other side of the island the boat measured 140km/h, and a nearby cruise ship measure 220km/h. But we were safe and warm. We had breakfast around midday, dinner at 8, then went back to bed. We dozed and read and chatted. Not actually an unpleasant day altogether.

 

But by the second day we were feeling a little cagey. Stephen didn't like the thought of using the latrine in such conditions so built an IgLoo, or Ig(Loo)2, or icenschiezerhause. Unfortunately the door faced the camp. Then it was so popular as people had held on all morning to use it that Stephen was too desperate to wait so ended up using the other latrine anyway!

 

There were long calm periods but the gusts still came down on us very powerfully. Snow drifts half buried the tents, and fully buried the pulks. We built walls around the tents, which should have been erected before our assault on Francais. The snow walls were also built over the pulks, burying them deeper. So we got a bit of time outdoors today, but mostly inside, like yesterday. Gotta get out of here tomorrow, but.

Mt Francais

A true alpine start this morning – 1:30am. To the south there is a yellow glow – this is a summer polar night. The sunset never ends but melds through the few hours of twilight into the dawn. We are a hundred kms north of the Antarctic Circle here.

 

Away at 3am. We rise steeply and quickly, nice snow providing grip for the skis. At a crevasse the first few people are on the rope to cross a large snow bridge, and after its integrity is established, the rest trudge over, one at a time.

 

In two hours we have climbed 700m onto the ridge that leads to Mt Agamemnon. The sun is hitting the peaks above, creating a yellow luminescence known as alpenglow. There is now a thousand metres of vertical to ascend, along a ridgeline that looks like quite short from our position, but only later do we realise how long it really is.  Skip plants the One Ton Depot flag to mark our track off the ridge for later.

 

It takes about 4 hours to climb along the ridge line. It is rather cold in the shadow of the mountain. Sweat freezes to the inside of the goretex. Digits go a little numb despite the activity. When the sun allows its rays to warm us we are rather thankful. Towards the top of the ridge it gets rather steep, ice just under the snow making it difficult at times to get a grip with the ski's edges.

 

When we hit the summit plateau we are pretty pleased but it takes another half an hour to get the summit. This is Mt Agamemnon, 2570m. The view is astounding. The Antarctic Peninsula sits on the eastern horizon. I feel like I can see half the peninsula, topped with a massive ice cap that plateaus at 2km high. There are peaks galore, including those on Adelaide Island 100km away, and Smith Island which sits above the sea fogs majestically.

 

After some congratulatory handshakes and some snacking it's time for Mt Francais, the main objective. Skiing down to the col (saddle) takes no time at all, then the skins go back on for the final ascent. It is another 500m up which we do in a little over an hour. The view improves again, for now the north is visible also. Mt Francais is the highest peak in the northern half of the peninsula, at 2825m.

 

As I come up to the summit there is an incredible sense of relief after the physical and mental effort – 12 hours on the go. Then an even greater sense of elation hits me. Most peaks provide satisfaction, but rarely happiness like this. When I consider the time of preparation and training, the cost and especially the sacrifice my family makes for me to climb these stupid lumps of rock and ice, I admit I became a little emotional. After regaining composure we could start congratulating each other. We spent about 20 minutes on the summit. Enough time to start getting cold. High cirrus clouds had been building during the day, and now the Iliad Glacier was filling with cloud. The weather was coming.

 

The ski down to the col was magical. It was fun, decent powder though a little lumpy at times, and a relief to finally be descending. However we had to get back around Mt Agamemnon first, and that took one and a half hours of dreary trudging. Then the long descent could begin. The snow was amazing down the steep head slope. Corn snow provided wonderful turns with a great sense of exposure. The quad muscles burned and I needed to stop every minute or so. And it just kept going. But the wind was picking up and one of the members was having trouble with the length and steepness of the slope. So we became very spread out. As we were waiting the conditions quickly became blizzard like – gale force winds and shotgun driven snow. I huddled like a husky dog as we tried to maintain visual contact in the deteriorating conditions. Eventually we all recollected bu t would we find the descent path through the crevasses? As we started the GPS tracking, the One Ton Depot flag came into view – it was rather amazing it survived the high winds.

 

So we were able to follow our tracks through the slots. Fortunately they were on the lee side and not covered in drift slow, yet. The final slope was about 40 degrees with beautiful fluffy snow – by far the best skiing of the trip. Glorious.

 

It was not far across the piedmont to the tents, with Tony waiting with tea. We were truly exhausted. The wind is now howling and the blizzard is gaining momentum. But we were out of it now, eating and rehydrating and relishing the day. Absolutely wonderful. We covered 30km and ascended and descended 2500m. Wow. This is probably about the 10^th ascent of Mt Francais. Not bad, huh?