Well Nordenskjold is ‘in the bag’ so I guess the cat can be let out of
it as well? This particular cat being that we think ours is the first ascent
of the mountain which at 2354m is the second highest summit on the island.
It has for long been assumed that Christian de Marliave had made the first
ascent in the 80’s. However Christian himself had very honourably and
kindly pointed out to Tim Carr that this was not the case. Tim had told me
this some time ago when we were discussing ways of improving the record of
historical ascents in South Georgia. The erroneous initial assumption had
simply been repeated in various publications and reports since then until
corrected by Christian himself. His bold and determined solo effort had seen
him getting high on the mountain but not to the summit. I have to emphasise
that I still have to confirm this version of events with Christian himself
whom I do not know personally (See Note). I ran out of time before departing on this
expedition and had not pressed the issue earlier because the historical
misunderstanding had kept the path clear for us to make our earlier attempt
two years ago followed now by our successful ascent of the NE ridge. Certain
elements of the ‘opposition’ were in any case beginning to suspect my
aberrant interest in this peak. Stephen Venables had only recently been
spotted stalking its approaches making sinister utterances along the lines
that all was fair in love and war. Make no mistake, that bluff exterior
conceals a predatory competitor if ever there was one. It was lovely to
receive his congratulatory message. ‘Well done you b.....d!’
So, on to the gory details of how Richard Spillett and I faired in our
derring-do. Time is very tight to achieve anything significant during a one
month charter. Unless you have the luxury of having the boat on continuous
standby to take advantage of a break in the weather for a lightweight dash
then the only alternative is to go heavy. Keep moving up in bad weather with
enough shelter, kit, food and supplies to sit out any very bad periods.
Hopefully we would then be in a position to take immediate advantage of any
good days without being too extended.
Two years ago we had skied from the beach but there was much less snow this
year. The first day was spent thinning out our loads to two heavy packs
apiece which were carried up to on to the glacier to the point where we
could start using the sledges, though not the skis which had to be added to
the loads. The next day we commenced our approach proper. The ice fall was
nearly completely ‘dry’ this year. Everything as hard ice with all
crevasses visible and open. It became a very torturous and slow process
navigating the sledges through the labyrinth. The glacier appears to
breaking down with large areas of new depressions and major inward collapse,
giving us a somewhat surreal passage through. One cannot but help to wonder
and draw parallels with the decimation of the whale stocks in the last
century. Is this the next stage of change wrought by man, this time on the
very physical fabric of our surroundings? As the glaciers spew their
entrails, are we witnessing the murder of the last leviathans? Places I
carried loads to over a week ten years ago can now be sailed to in open
water. Change is occurring very quickly. No one will ever see the fabled
filling and flushing of the huge and mysterious Gulbransen Lake any more.
The Neumayer glacier has receded four kilometres in the last 10 years. It
looks like the same will be happening to the Nordenskold sometime soon.
Finally we crested the ice fall and found the first skiable ribbon of snow
‘ the yellow brick road’ heading gently downwards into another
collapsing basin. We donned the rope in case of suspect snow bridges and
sped on, happy to be using the skis at last. Richard had not used
mountaineering skis for a while and complained they were turning outwards.
Keep your knees together and think of England was not the kind of advice
Richard was hoping for. Skip had lent us his old Skis and we were nursing a
cracked moulding on the binding so we could not afford to mess around with
them. The spare binding and tools had been ditched in the rationalization.
Any problems would have to be resolved with the climber’s perennial string
and gaffa tape solution. My flippancy was to be short lived. As we skinned
up out of the bowl my own binding came off three times in quick succession.
Uh-oh, perhaps my scrounging of Julian Freeman-Atwoods skis from Skips
container had been a false economy? I was soon expounding on the parentage
of Silvio Berlusconi and more particularly Italian boot manufacturers. The
back half of my sole unit had come completely unstuck and was uselessly
flapping around. Disaster, this could scupper the entire expedition. My
brain started racing, a) spare pair of boots under the forward bunk on the
boat, b) Pat (Lurcock) might have a spare pair at King Edward Point as
well. The pelagic contingent had both been on a walk yesterday and been
invited on to a cruise ship. That little combination meant tiredness plus a
skinfull of booze equalling a likelihood they had not yet left Cumberland
Bay. A couple of frantic calls on our Sat Phone confirmed the scenario. The
boots were on their way. Dave Roberts on the Pelagic was not the sort of man
to be deterred by crashing surf laden with ice blocks when it came to
piloting his zodiac on to a rocky beach. He was up to his neck in freezing
sea-water but got the boots ashore, assisted by Jules, Jim and Marcello.
Meanwhile we had established ‘Boot-Camp’. A lash-up with a prussic loop
had made a surprisingly robust crampon attachment to my boot. This was
holding the whole caboodle together, perhaps good enough to climb on? But if
it all came apart on an exposed ridge it would be a nightmare scenario.
I’d have to return to sea-level to get the spare boots. I knew Skips
enormous plates of meat would mean I could probable use them as a sledge
rather than boots. The thought of trying to front point in them later with
three extra inches of leverage was already bringing tears to my eyes.
Perhaps staring down at their wonderful style and colour scheme will ease
the pain. They would undoubtedly improve my attractiveness, perhaps even my
sex life apart from the small technical detail of my darling wife being 8000
miles away. Still, it’s the thought that counts.
So back down, through the belly of the beast. I took a more circuitous
route, avoiding any soft snow and bridged crevasses. More hidden ledge
systems and through passages were discovered as I descended. Everything went
smoothly and I was back at the beach by mid-day. I had a quick refuel on
some previously abandoned chocolate before setting off once more. I was back
at boot camp by early afternoon. I was racing to beat the advancing fog to
the lip of the glacier, but in the end had to stop to deal with the
inevitable blisters that were developing. I took solace at the sheer beauty
of these boots. One has to suffer for art, usually someone else’s. It was
good to be back.
Next day we made an early start pulling sledges once again with crampons. We
found a way through a lateral moraine that led to the toe of the ridge
extending down northwards from Sheridan Peak. There is then a steep climb,
just on the limit of what is possible with skins. This went surprisingly
easy compared to last time and we were soon over the lip and on to the third
section of the Nordenskjold, a vast broad snow covered valley leading up
alongside the western slopes of Sheridan Peak. A truly enormous wind scoop
forms a moat adjoining this. It’s another sign of the that the ablating
glacier is also melting top-down and not just bottom up. We gave the
dizzying drop into the wind scoop a very wide birth. Roped up again we
marvelled at how skis and sledges crossed crevasse after crevasse without
any breaking through, even in hot soft conditions. I knew from previous
experience that terrain like this would be murderous if we were only on
foot. By early afternoon we were near to our high camp from two years
previously. This time we camped out on the glacier flat away from the
avalanche danger and snow dumps that had done for us on that occasion.
This time I was determined to establish our advanced camp at the foot of the
technical climbing rather than begin our climb from here. We were still to
far away. The next morning we loaded rucksacks and climbed the long steep
snowfield that led to the upper stage of the Nordenskold Glacier. It
by-passed a long and heavily crevassed ice fall to the NW. It took us two
carries to get all the gear up. I trailed an empty sledge during the first
carry. We had wet snow and very poor visibility all day. We reached the
shoulder navigating by memory from two years ago. Returning to locate the
last load was a very real test of Richards GPS skills. He navigated us
right back to the dump in a complete white out. All that practise on Clapham
Common with his daughter Lottie was paying off! We struggled back up to the
shoulder leaving the other empty sledge and the skis behind. I knew it was
only a few kilometres at most to the site of our final camp and did not
fancy the effort of setting up camp now, early, when we could press on.
Richard was having none of it though. We were soaked and tired. Also in the
white out we might site the final camp in a threatened spot in any case and
only have to move it again. We were soon ensconced in our scratchers making
another hot dinner.
Next morning we set a likely location by lat/long on the GPS so we could
progress in the continuing whiteout. Odd breaks enabled me to remember the
lay of the land. As we finally pulled on to the final flat a brief clearing
enabled us to get our bearings and choose a good spot. We anchored the tent
with guylines attached to sections of buried engine hose. We always use
these or buried bags of snow.
Next day was my birthday. Laura had packed me a special candle which we
ceremoniously placed in a mini Christmas pud. Today was the rest day. We
triangulated the various weather forecasts and tomorrow looked to be the
day. Timings had worked out well for once.
We got out of bed late at 2am on the 26th finally getting away by around 4
after the ritual faffing. The right hand side of the North face is
threatened by regular serac falls. But by skirting the rocks on the left of
the face you can avoid these. There was much less snow and ice cover than
before but the line was still there. A convenient spindrift avalanche cone
bridged the bergschrund and we were on to the face. We moved together
heading up and right, aiming for the foot of a steep gully that broke
through the rocks. The bottom part is the steepest. As we passed the 500’
mark we started to become aware of the worrying void. On this kind of
terrain its essential to have a clear instinct for every crumbling step.
It’s a mixture of rotten ice and powdery snow but you know by feel when
they are good for the job. You have to trust each other and concentrate on
not making a single error. To move fast you cannot afford the luxury of
belaying and climbing in stages. The rope is only out so as to be ready to
be deployed when needed in a hurry. As I reached the start of the gully I
Placed our first ice screw. We kept moving together only stopping when all
the ice screws had been used up and swapping them back to the leader. As we
emerged from the gully it was a relief to find the ice was slightly softer
than before.
I remembered the harrowing night we’d had descending this on our earlier
attempt. Weary down climbing over hard ice in continuous spindrift
avalanches. The first down would place an ice-screw just before the stances
so if the leader decided to take a jump the resultant 300 footer would not
come directly on to the belay.
Now we made quick progress and by 8am we where we’d been at 5pm before! We
crossed various rubble shoots and broken terrain. This naturally safeguards
a pair as the rope runs over intervening spikes, without having to resort to
the time consuming placement and removal of other running belays. At last we
reached the crest of the east ridge. The rock is hilariously rotten. In high
winds chunks are simply blown off! All those years Richard and I had spent
climbing on the shale of Devon sea cliffs were now paying dividends. After
Tin Tagel we were not as fearful of this tottering heap of Weetabix as
logic might otherwise dictate. We wove the rope in and out of towers and
blocks to safeguard our progress. One has to always be prepared to jump the
opposite side if a companion was to slip.
The boiling broth thickened. Soon all I could see was a thin shard of dark
shale soaring skyward. Eventually this ran out leaving us with ‘white on
white’. Things were now becoming a bit abstract as we started to depend on
the subtle differences of whiter shades of pale. The angle of the crest was
not extreme but the north side fell away very steeply. I crawled forward on
my belly in the strong wind and pocked my head over the south side. Oh dear,
it was an impressive drop. The ice was now glass hard along the crest. The
saving grace was a ribbon of wind-blown snow glued to it like a rooster’s
comb. If you choose your spot carefully and drove down hard enough it
enabled you to get the shaft of your left axe in to the hilt and provide
good purchase. Meanwhile one could use the pick of the right hand axe in
the hard ice for the other hand and progress like some sort of demented
crab. We shortened the rope and always had at least one ice screw between us
to ward off disasters. When the wind dropped we could stand up instead and
balance along this precarious banister rail. Every now and then the snow
comb would develop into a proper cornice. This is when an overhanging wave
of snow builds up on the leeward side. It’s often a treacherous structure
that breaks off without warning, It’s all to easy in a white out to wander
to close to the edge of one of these with unfortunate consequences. If
you’re lucky your mate will remain on the other side and you get away with
a protracted bout of swearing and nothing worse. However it’s best not to
test this theory, but only to hold on to it as an article of faith.
I was becoming increasingly aware that our progress along this perch was
only possible if the winds remained low as they were. Richard meanwhile was
becoming increasingly demented by the satsurgei effect. These downward
pointing ribs of snow kept snagging any slack rope. This necessitated a
horrible decent off the banister on to the hard ice in order to free the
rope. I looked on in bemused horror as he cursed and swore, unpicking
various macramé. We inched onwards and after a while reached a more level
section where we could walk. The mist cleared briefly and revealed bulbous
overhanging ice pillars disappearing into the southern depths in a grotesque
phantastagorasmiasm. If Gaudi had designed mountains, this would be one of
his. Things got steeper again. We had already passed the ‘false knob’
and surmised this was the real one, a distinct lump visible from afar, high
on the summit ridge. We crept over the top and down climbed a steep pitch of
pure best crystal to reach the saddle beyond. It was the sort of place where
you make the final commitment to go for the top. We distinctly felt like we
were space walking now, out on the upper limbs. Visibility got even worse
but we knew we must be getting close and prayed there would not be horrible
obstacle at the last. Richards bank of instrumentation, altimeters aand GPSs
were registering summit proximity. Providing he did not short circuit in
satsurgei fury we might be in with a chance. What appeared to be a huge
long S in the ridge reared up ahead. The mist was playing tricks with us and
we passed it in less than a rope length. Gradually the angle eased off and
after 4000’ of climbing what looked like a typical South Georgia summit
assumed its form. A flat platform crested by a 10’ rounded bollard with a
slightly higher whaleback a little to the right. All plastered in hoar
frost. We staggered up together. Everything fell away in all directions. I
waited and peered through breaks in the broth to make sure there was nothing
higher nearby. It was the top. We logged the point on Richards GPS it was
midday. We said what was on our minds almost together, right we’re half
way there. Lets get our god dammed asses off of here in one piece. We
stepped down on to the platform and gave Pat a call at King Edward Point on
our VHF radio. We had hoped they would have been able to see us on the
summit. We offered to do a highland jig? He suggested setting fire to some
bushes. We turned tail for the long haul home.
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With special thanks to DMM International back in Wales. A great company that
had the foresight to continue manufacturing on home soil. A company that
never lost its balance in the first place, long before ‘re-balancing’ of
the economy became vogue. Also thanks to Rich Howarth at High Latitudes for
sat phone comms, Wild Country for a bomb proof heavy duty tent at an
achievable mortgage rate and Solar Gadget.com for their Power Monkey Extreme
battery / solar panel charger on similar terms. Finally of course Pelagic
Australis, the boat guaranteed to reach places other boats cannot reach.
Miles, Laura and Dave, one of those professional crews that make a difficult
job look easy. The great company of Jules, Jim, Bob and Marcello who made
the whole voyage such a joy. Pat and Sarah at King Edward point and Richard
McKee back in Stanley. Skip, we owe you a pint, for those boots!
And last but by no means least a big thanks to Rhydian & Rowan at I.C.Y Expeditions for providing the tracker & blogging the whole trip for us. If you can keep track of an expedition to South Georgia then keeping track of young people on your DofE expeditions should be a piece of cake.
Crag Jones... somewhere in the south seas 3/12/2011
* Crag subsequent to this article has managed to get hold of Christian de Marliave and reports that Christian had in fact got very close to the summit, effectively climbing the mountain, only stopping below the final 30meteres because it was a steep summit ice ‘mushroom’ that was to dangerous for him to climb on his own. As tends to happen over the years, the configuration of such icy summit mushrooms has altered considerably and did not present Crag and Richard Spillett with any difficulties for their final step to the summit.
News / Blog 
I've had the pleasure of being out in the hills on my own without any groups to worry about... I've got to admit it was great, though I also have to admit it's harder to practice than to preach!
) & that every single young person who started an assessed expedition with us completed the four days & passed 
.
rhydian639
07813 702 982
rhydian
icyuk.co.uk
