South Georgia Mountaineering expedition 24’ (V)

On South Georgia you just have to adapt to circumstances, grabbing opportunities when the weather allows.  So, despite feeling quite tired after our eight hours continuous climbing and skiing on Black Peak, we set off again on Monday afternoon from our new anchorage in Fortuna Bay, skinning up the Turnback Glacier.  The name derives from the famous forced march across the island by Ernest Shackleton, Tom Crean and Frank Worsley.  They had been walking continuously for twenty-fours hours when, in the early hours of May 17th  1916, they reached the top of this glacier. ‘I suppose our desires were giving wings to our fancies, for we pointed out joyfully various landmarks revealed by the now vagrant light of the moon, whose friendly face was cloud-swept.  Our high hopes were soon shattered’.

Climb to Breakwind Gap. Photo from S.Brown

They had tried to persuade themselves that they had reached their goal – that they were looking down on the whaling station at Stromness.  Once there they could organise a rescue for their twenty-two shipwrecked companions, marooned 800 miles away on Elephant Island.  But Shackleton suddenly remembered that there was no glacier in Stromness Bay.  So, this must be Fortuna Bay, not Stromness.  And, anyway, getting down the great icefall tumbling from where they stood looked impossible.  So, weary and disappointed, they turned back to look for a better route.

Climbing Turnback Glacier. Photo from S.Novak.

One hundred-and-eight years on, the Turnback Glacier has melted out to an amenable gradient, perfect for an afternoon ski.  On Tuesday afternoon we soon reached the top and veered round onto the main Fortuna Glacier.  Occasional blasts of wind sent whirling dervishes of snow spinning across the glittering surface.  Out to the west we could see the ‘dome shaped rock’ which was such a prominent landmark for Worsley, Crean and Shackleton on their moonlit journey.  But we were heading east, back towards Fortuna Bay, via a crucial notch in the ‘Breakwind Ridge’.

Tiny figures on Turnback. Photo from J. G.Borreguero.

Skip has been here several times before.  I last crossed the notch in 2011 and on Monday the slope up to it seemed to have become a lot steeper than I remembered – yet another example of the glaciers melting out.  The wind was howling through the notch – not conducive to dawdling – but we had to stop and point out the view across Fortuna Bay to the distinctive Z shaped contorted rock strata beyond, in Stromness Bay.  In 1916, after the disappointing ‘Turnback’, Shackleton was overjoyed when he reached this spot to see in the distance those unmistakable rocks, remembered from two years earlier.  There was an intervening ridge between here and that formation, but it was an easy low ridge and, provided they could first get down from here to Fortuna Bay, they were going to make it.  And, just to confirm everything, as they lit up the primus stove to cook their breakfast ‘hoosh’, at exactly 7.00 am they heard the factory hooter at Stromness, summoning the whalers to work.  As Shackleton’s ghostwriter put it in South, ‘Never had any of us heard sweeter music.  It was the first sound created by outside human agency that had come to our ears since we left Stromness Bay in December 1914.’ 

Breakwind Gap. Photo from S.Venables.

It’s a much repeated quote in a very familiar story, but it never fails to bring a lump to my throat.  History aside, though, we had to get ourselves back down to Fortuna Bay and the snow felt horribly wet and heavy.  I fluffed the first few turns, but then realized the heavy powder was actually manageable and started to get a rhythm going, until lower down where the surface change repeatedly and unpredictably from ice, to powder, to cruddy slush.  Novak skied bravely, sticking to the fall line.  I made ever longer, more cowardly traverses, funking the turns.  The others followed with varying degrees of elegance, as the slope funneled into a steep gully flanked by shattered rocks.

Descent to Fortuna. Photo from I.Young.

Stromness view.

This was astonishing.  As recently as 2011 this was a gentle snow slope, where we skied big lazy S curves, easily towing pulks down an even gradient.  Now pulks would be a nightmare and it was hard enough just getting ourselves down.  Yet more glacial melting.  Lower down the angle eased and I started to enjoy to enjoy myself.  Even with dodgy decrepit knees, skiing is still the best way to get around at this time of year and you can’t beat the thrill of threading the snow tongues between the tussock grass, gliding all the way down to the beach, where the petrels, penguins and seals give a brief bemused glance at the strange intruders before getting on with their own lives.  By the time Kenny, Iain and Steve were all down the wind was whipping snow across the beach and it was very nice to see Mariana arrive in the Zodiac to whisk us back to cosy Vinson and roast dinner.

Elephant seal. From S.Novak.

Stephen Venables

Mountaineer. Co-Expedition Leader.