Life on Land

Continuing on to our next port, Enterprise Island, icebergs began to
appear in much greater numbers and our next responsibility was iceberg
watch on deck, ensuring that we did not hit one with potential hideous
Titanic like consequences. During this there was a great call from deck
"Orcas" and we all rushed up to see a pod of 3 or 4 orcas swimming
purposefully along, uninterested in our little sailing vessel. They
quickly moved out of sight. Ahhh. The pintado petrels and other sea
birds began to slowly reduce in number as we moved further south. We
moored at 2am alongside Tooluka, another yacht, tying up to an old ship
which had been shipwrecked around 1915, still remarkably well preserved.
No anchor watch tonight, our first full night's sleep since we left
Puerto William.

Early start the next morning as Darrel wanted to leave for our next port
around 10am. Porridge bolted, then scramble for gear as we decided
whether to paddle in the harbour or snow shoe up a nearby hill.
Following an initial decision to do both in shifts, we changed our minds
after 1.5 hours of preparation had still not gotten us either onto land
or into our kayaks – small vessels make for limited movement and
difficulty getting organized. Being methodical and consistent is the
key to effective life on board. However, it was short but rewarding for
both parties when we finally made it, the kayakers headed off for a
short paddle around the head and back again, as well as getting in some
rescue drills. Sea kayaks are the bomb in these conditions, the sea did
not look at all inviting and their stability is very reassuring,
especially when a glacier calves into the sea setting up huge standing
waves across the bay. The snow shoe trial effective in stopping us from
stepping up to our knees at best in the soft wet snow and just good
really to get off the boat and move around without stooping and lurching.

Only 45 mins late, much to Darrel's approval, we left Enterprise for
Wiencke Island, a small island just SE of Anvers in increasing wind
conditions and with lots to do in the next 5 hours for our next venture
– an island traverse and an overnighter on land. Lunch prepared and
dinner precooked for the trip - a huge bolognaise with lots of red wine
– rico! Getting the gear together was a hugely time consuming affair,
scenes of devastation below deck, skis, snowshoes, sleds, boots,
crampons all hauled out from the foreward cabins, harnesses, prussic
ropes, climbing ropes, iceaxes and shovels all in a space of 2 metres
squared for 9 people, plus 9 people – Paddy's market wouldn't be in it!
But out of the mayhem slowly appeared 9 orderly packs about 20 kgs
each, sleds with the snow shoes, skis, primuses and food for 3 days,
just in case weather conditions changed for the worse and we had to stay
an extra night.

Just in time for Darrel to come below deck and pronounce that the wind
conditions made landing on the east side of the island impossible and
the island traverse was not going to happen! Quelle debacle!

However, don't panic. Darrel always has a little alternative
arrangement up his sleeve, and true to form, he quickly changed our trip
plan to sailing west of the island down the Peltiar Channel where the
conditions were much more favourable for landing. We were sailing with
50 knot winds behind us, so fairly hoofing it down the Channel, the
genoa helping to stabilize the boat. Just to our port, we sailed past 2
huts seemingly huddled near the shore - one orange Argentine and the
other an old British Antarctic Survey Hut. The BAS hut had been
planned for removal but for the night it was ours. Slowly and gingerly
with those 50 knot winds blowing fiercely, we transported ourselves onto
land, sleds and gear well secured. We landed on rocks and were met by a
gentoo penguin who hopped out beside us and looked at us quizzically,
puffed up and feathers gleaming, content in his comfort zone, unlike
ourselves. Peggy and Ross quickly built a platform, set up a snow anchor
and belay point and had the sleds up quickly and efficiently. Frances,
Joy and Mary set off to open up the hut, passing several small gentoo
colonies en route. We were met with a sturdy green building, built
circa 1940, shutters in place. What a relief from the wind when the
door opened, and we stepped inside – and what a find when we opened it
up. Big kitchen with bench table and seats, a small library of books,
cupboards full of tins of dried milk and chocolate, porridge, dried
chicken and mutton packets (all circa 1940s), an old copper for boiling
water, and a bunk room to sleep about 15 people. Fantastic. Old snow
shoes and wooden skis, an old wooden sledge outside.

After a feast of spag bol and red wine, too cold we decided in
retrospect to drink red wine in Antarctica, we hit our bunks and slept
like logs, outside howling wind, inside the rustle of sleeping bags and
gentle sporadic snoring. Next morning we awoke to a perfectly still day,
on the shores of a little bay. The tide had gone out. There was
feverish activity among the many penguin colonies, coming and going from
the sea, eggs being brooded and the couples changing from time to time,
stones from other penguin nests being stolen by errant penguin males
trying to build their own nests and keep their demanding mates content.
Completely unperturbed by our wandering throughout the area it was an
idyllic scene, even the guano seemed a little more perfumed this
morning. Some trial sledding, Peggy got the gold star for a champion
sled with no wipe outs, and skiing with skins tried out by Ross and
Frances, all very successful.

After consultations, it was decided to send a few items back to the
boat, a couple of sleds, the rest of the red wine, too cold to drink
and heavy to carry, a pair of skis and climbing boots. Ben joined us on
the next part of our 2 day trip, a tramp across to Thunder Glacier and
camping overnight there, this being the most challenging of our
escapades to date.

Gear duly packed again with a little wistful sigh, being a packhorse
just isn't what it's cracked up to be. Harnesses and snow shoes on, we
set off for our mammoth trip. We started up a moderate slope, v low
gradient by tramping standards, but it was slow going with wet snow and
snow shoes, and that seemed to be our general speed. We played what's
the time games and were always amazed how much time had elapsed and how
little headway we seemed to be making. Roping up to go across a part of
the glacier which had quite a steep slope and had some slots running
along it further down towards the sea, it became quite slippery and
there were a few moments when voices got raised and tension increased as
the dramatists (myself included) imagined themselves hurtling down the
slope and landing in a 5 k deep slot at the bottom of which was –1.4
degrees of water (and that was the best case scenario) – added to which
was the snowy skyscraper (Mount Jabot) on the other side which was about
to unleash a furious avalanche at any time. The relief was palpable as
we finally made it across to the other side and we celebrated reaching
the top of the ridge by having a flopsy in the sun and having a cup of
tea and a wee snack.

By this time we realized our original intention to go across to a
further glacier was a little ambitious and if we continued in like
manner we might just reach it by the time we had to return to get back
to the boat. So after a quick decision making posse get together, we
decided that just up a wee bit and under the ridge would be a perfect
place to stop for the night. And so we did. And what a snow village
did we build, a walled surround for all our tents, all with million
dollar views, a big kitchen/eating area with bench seats, a wee dunny
with a modesty wall, a space for toilet paper and magazines and the
piece de resistance was the igloo Ben built with Wombat Hole written
proudly on the side with cocoa powder! The snow was perfect for building
and it was sunny and warm, about 13 degrees and there was no wind at all.

After dinner of pasta with mushroom sauce and a little snifter of glava
and whiskey, in our new abode, we walked up to the top of the glacier,
pack free. Bed soon followed, bizarre in broad daylight, and we all
slept moderately well in very very cold conditions.

Breakfast at 5.30am and an early start to ensure our prompt return to
the boat. This was much colder and there was an icy wind so the layers
all got piled back on and a few more besides. After an initial period
of not roping up, several incidents, Jane going up to her knee and Ross
to his thigh in the snow had us all hurriedly putting our ropes back on
and spreading out to avoid those devious snow hidden crevasses. Another
cautious trip and a route change across the front of the glacier had us
all down on the shore 90 minutes later to be greeted by a group of
gentoos all very inquisitive about the goings on on their turf so to speak.

Another sunny day. There followed a huge period of drying tents and
boots, washing smelly socks and eating huge amounts of freshly baked
bread with butter and vegemite, (we are becoming very adept at this
bread making business) after which we went across to Port Lockroy, a
British Antarctic Heritage Trust Building. The area used to be a
whaling station and there are huge whale bones scattered around and the
skeletons of boats amongst the myriads of gentoo nests, guano and the
ever present sheathbills. There is a museum here also and a tourist
shop, the proceeds of which go towards the upkeep of the historical
sites all over Antarctica and South Georgia. Here we bought up large,
anything with penguins and whales, keyrings, teeshirts, maps and
teatowels, in complete loopy style, all paid for with credit card just
to see Antarctica on the invoice! Sad but true.

Back on the boat, Stephen decided the moment had come for a skinny dip,
something he been been talking about doing for some time - fast but with
great aplomb. Ross followed suit but no-one else took up the gauntlet
and we ended our evening drinking red wine and sun and lounging on the
deck. Dinner was a spectacular barbeque and we all tottered to bed in
various states of drunkenness.

Posted by Mary