Antarctic Peninsula ski expedition (II)
We are anchored at Deception Island, doing final packing, cooking and baking, before heading back north across Drake Passage. Time to reflect on the last week on the Antarctic Peninsula. It has been a hugely enjoyable expedition, but also frustrating. In six trips here I have never experienced such warm, wet cloudy weather and difficult snow conditions.
Last Monday we did everything to maximise our chances on Mt Scott. Our long suffering crew were up at 3.00 am and by 5.30 we were all ashore, ready to make the most of cool morning temperatures. The snow underfoot was okay, but the crevasses – where we have always found a way through on past occasions – were gaping wide, with only the most fragile snow bridges. They would probably have been possible to cross on the way up. Perhaps. But they would have been lethal on the descent, when the afternoon heat would have turned them to soggy mush. So we abandoned Mt Scott and returned to Vinson for an enjoyable afternoon sea kayaking amongst the Gentoo penguins and Leopard seals.
Diego leads the way down Mt Scott after being turned back by difficult crevasses.
Sea kayak. Picture by Dion Poncet
On Tuesday we headed north, only to be deterred by low cloud and strong wind. So no planned outing on Cape Astrupp. But adaptability is the name of the game, and in the afternoon we managed to ski 320 metres up and down a nameless bump at
Consesa Point. There was no glorious summit and no view at all, but it is amazing how invigorating it can be to spend an afternoon skiing wet powder snow in a whiteout.
Back to Paradise Harbour to have another go at Mt Banck, which had defeated us the previous week. This time we got lucky. Well luckier. Once again there were far more open crevasses than I remembered from previous years, but Diego and I managed, taking turns in front, to find a way through, until one final dodgy slot stopped us just below the summit. So, again, no actual summit, but a fine descent from our highpoint. The others thought the snow was lovely and skied elegantly. I thought it was ‘challenging’ and struggled, but they waited patiently for me and by the time we got to the final ‘schuss’ I was almost enjoying myself. And it was a pleasure, as always, gliding down to the beach, to see the Weddell Seals lounging in the snow, supremely indifferent to the weird humans sliding past.
Crevasses on Mt Banck
It was now time, during our final days, to make the most of a slightly better weather forecast and attempt the highest peak on Brabant Island – Mt Parry. After returning from Mt Banck, we spent Wednesday afternoon preparing food, gear and tents for what would be a three day trip. Skipper Justino tried anchoring at Cuverville Island, but after dinner menacing icebergs persuaded him to up anchor and motor north to the more secure anchorage at Enterprise Island, arriving late and then having to face yet another early start on Thursday morning to take us across the Gerlache Strait to Brabant Island.
Alas it was all for nothing. Wind, snow and low cloud all conspired to make the landing at Terada Point extremely unappealing. So we waited a day. Friday morning was calmer and by 6.00 am Dion had us all ashore, with our loaded pulks, at Terada Point. But conditions were still decidedly ‘suboptimal’. The pulks dragged in the soft heavy snow underfoot and more snow was falling out of the sky. And it continued to fall all day. And the visbility was poor. And the crevasses, yet again, were worse than I remembered – horrible traps appearing repeatedly out of the murk. Diego suggested, probably wisely, that we should stop at just 400 metres, instead of continuing to the planned camp at 730 metres.
Parry camp. Picture by Guillaume van Gacer.
So we stopped at midday to camp, enjoying, in our tent, a good dinner of soup, couscous and hot chocolate with Cognac. Then the glorious luxury of snuggling down in a warm sleeping bag to enjoy a well-earned sleep. It’s just a pity that the sleep always has to be so short, for at 1.00 in the morning I was disappointed to see that the snow had stopped, there was no wind and the sky was almost clear. Damn. No excuse to stay in bed. Is there anything more horrible than having to force yourself to eat breakfast at 1.00 am, then put on stiff ski boots and climbing harness, then emerge into to the cold to fit skins to skis and start climbing?
Parry descent. Picture by Guillaume van Gaver.
We managed to get away by 3.30 am and of course it was good to be on the move, settling into that meditative trancelike state, as arms, legs and lungs synchronise and the landscape slowly unfolds – below the sea and above the morning sun glowing on the summit slopes of Mt Parry. The wind had shifted to the south and at first it was very cold – one of the few times I have felt really cold in Antarctica. What a wonderful relief when the sunlight crept down to our lowly altitude and brought us welcome warmth. But the low altitude was the problem. It took over three hours to cover the five kilometres to the point where we camped at 730 metres when I was here in 2019. And from there we still had 1,800 metres to climb to the summit. With fine, firm, cold snow it probably would have worked. But with this season’s soft damp surface, everything was slow. As expedition ‘leader’ I was slightly embarrassed to realize how tired I was feeling, increasingly gloomy about our chances of making it all the way to the 2,500 metres summit and then starting a long tiring descent. So it was rather a relief, at around 1,400 metres, when someone else suggested that we might think about turning round.
Day 2 on Mt Parry
After a long discussion, we agreed that I would head down with three of the party, while two continued up with Diego. They in fact also turned round after about an hour and caught up with us on the descent, shortly before we all returned to camp, eleven hours after setting out. Time for tea, soup and a quick rest, before taking down the tents, packing the pulks and setting off down to Terada Point, keen to be picked up before the winds increased during the night.
Skiing downhill with a pulk is an acquired art. On a gentle glacier, with a firm frozen surface, it can be a joyful trundle. On a steep crevassed slope, trying to turn on breakable crust, avoiding lethal slots, it degenerates quickly into farce. Despite that, the pulking novices all coped heroically, while this veteran failed dismally. I blame the knees. Having no pride, I was delighted when one of the strong youngsters offered to take my accursed sledge and skied down with two pulks. What a hero.
After two hours mayhem everyone made it safely back to the beach and by 8.00 pm, seventeen hours after starting our day, we were all back on board
Vinson, enjoying well-earned gin-and-tonics, cooled with ancient lumps of iceberg. It was a shame not to reached Parry’s rarely trodden summit, but everyone seemed to agree that it had been a fine adventure to conclude the expedition before heading north for home.
Stephen Venables
Mountaineer. Co-Expedition Leader.
