Ski traverse of Patagonian icecap

I am cold, colder than I believe I have ever been in my life. I am shivering violently and uncontrollably and no matter how hard I try to exercise, my body refuses to generate enough heat to keep warm. I know that I'm teetering on a dangerous edge. I am fully aware that I'm going hypothermic but up until now I have rallied myself into thinking that all will be OK. I still believe that ‘Coach', my climbing partner tethered to the other end of the rope tied around my waist harness, will find a way out of this mess. I resign myself to ‘harden-up' if not ‘warm-up' and continue to climb the Marconi Pass, a daunting exercise that involves ascending by ‘kicking steps' into an ice wall on a 50? angle. I feel yet another pull on the rope and turn to see Coach flat on the ice (as flat as one can be on such a slope); his back-pack has been wrestled from his body by the relentless ferocity of the wind. The force of the gusts has managed to sever one of the straps and now 35kg of food, equipment and skis flails about as if it were the proverbial ‘rag-doll'. Above the roar of the wind I hear ‘Coach' shout that he too is freezing. I initially think he is joking; after all Coach has lived for three months on the side of Mt Everest until at an altitude of 8300m bad weather forced his retreat. His climbing CV is littered with the names of impressing and imposing mountain summits. Hell, he even volunteered to be the meteorologist on Macquarie Island for a short period of time! As I'm now relying upon Coach to save my freezing clammy skin he is not allowed to be cold. In my throat I can taste bile, it is giving me nausea and I realise that it is a precursor to panic. I now know that we are both in big trouble.

Camping under Cerro Torre

Patagonia is an unbelievable area of rugged wilderness that borders both Southern Argentina and Chile in South America. Our intended goal, or should I say, Coach's goal, was to traverse the length of the Southern Patagonian Icecap (SPI). At approximately 370km long and 40km wide, outside of Antarctica and the Arctic Circle, it is the third largest icecap on the planet. In the true sense it is not so much an ‘icecap' but rather an ‘icefield'. The distinction being that the SPI is flanked by the mighty Andes mountain range so the ice doesn't overflow and dome but it is funnelled down corridors of massive rock behemoths. At a latitude nearing 50? south it is the first landmass that the frigid winds that originate in Antarctica choose to beseech. After leaving Antarctica these winds travel over thousands of kilometres of Southern Pacific Ocean. They are not only intensely cold but also heavily laden with precipitation. That moisture is then deposited in the form of snow and ice upon the surrounding mountain range. If 5000mm of annual precipitation was not enough to deter us then the shape and length of the surrounding mountain range and the natural ‘venturi' that it created warranted further attention! It is this natural phenomena that aides in accelerating the wind to incredible speeds and strengths. In Patagonia, when the wind speed falls below 30knots (55kmph) it is reported as being ‘calm!'

Hauling gear to the Marconi Glacier

In the planning phase we choose the Marconi Pass, on the outskirts of a small Argentine town of El Chaten, as the most suitable access point through which to gain a foothold onto the SPI. To the north both the Jorge Montt and O'Higgins Glaciers are far too heavily crevassed and broken to allow access in a suitable time frame. Anything further south would mean pushing into the winds rather than have them at our back. Once gaining the icecap we then planned to ski north initially before turning south to the Upsala Glacier. All our equipment required to house, feed and protect us over the next three weeks we would tow behind us on sleds. Our food for the entire journey had as much option and variety as a passenger on a budget airline! Breakfast consisted of oats mixed with nuts and sultanas, lunch; salami and cheese and dinner; a dehydrated beef and black bean sachet (not that I have ever had the misfortune to dine at a Chinese restaurant that served this variety of ‘Black-Bean' sauce!) This meagre diet was then supplemented with olive oil, chocolate and sweet coffee to boost our daily calorific intake to ~5000 calories (normal daily intake is approx 2000 calories). Our food plan allowed us to simply add boiling water to all our products. The one positive was it saved on washing-up. Not that washing-up would have been an arduous task. In an effort to save weight we only had one utensil between us!

Crossing the Viedma Glacier via snow-filled crevasses

Hindsight is a marvellous tool with which to judge decisions. For example, if I had studied harder at school I would have known that Scott froze to death in Antarctica and after what Mawson endured he may well have been better off dead! And Coach; at every stage of his career he epitomised all those profession that as a pilot I rely upon but never quite trust. He has worked as a helicopter navigator, an accredited meteorologist and now an engineer. The alarm bells should have been deafening! How could I have been so stupid? My initial visions were of chalets and lifts, schnapps and deep powder. The only vision that I now had was obscured by snow, and not the soft fluffy stuff but rather the stinging ball-bearing ice crystal variety. It was being hurled at me in this maelstrom of a storm that we had climbed into where the winds bore down upon us like freight trains and the visibility was less than 20 metres.

Heading south on the ice cap

To continue climbing with Coach's pack swinging like a pendulum is fruitless. We have to fix it, but stopping in this storm invites a rapid onset of hypothermia. It takes us almost one hour to gain a mere 100m in elevation however we manage to attain a point on the mountain where the slope abates slightly. We utilise our ice axes and shovels to dig a snow cave to aide in escaping the wind. We have been climbing non-stop now for over ten hours and I am physically exhausted. What energy reserves that do remain are rapidly depleting hacking a hole into the snow and ice. Together we manage to scrape out enough snow to allow room to lie down and escape the wind. Unfortunately we have hit rock and blue ice so we are unable to widen our sanctuary to the point that we would be capable of sleeping here. We drag in the damaged pack and set about repairing the broken strap. With very limited resources and a pocket-knife Coach does a great ‘McGyver' and fixes the strap to the point it should endure further beatings. We finish the thermos of warm orange drink, share half a Maxim Energy bar and contemplate our next step. Personally I could stay in our carved ice gutter and quietly fade away to an eternal nap. Anything but face the onslaught of wind that is occurring above our sheltered heads. In times of complete chaos, clarity of thought and physical endurance comes easily to some individuals. I was not one of those blessed few but fortunately Coach possessed those traits in spades. He outlined the options to me. We could stay here and as night fell slowly die from hypothermia. Or we could use our remaining energy and have one final attempt to gain the top of the Pass. Hopefully then we could escape the winds tunnelling down this corridor of rock. ‘Great option!' I quietly thought, I wanted to phone a friend!

Over the next two hours we slowly gain height and occasionally the wind abates and the visibility improves. At one stage I climb us too high along a cliff-face and take a 10m fall when the ice beneath my footing crumbles. It is the only time all day that I am thankful for the amount of snow that this storm has deposited. It cushions the impact from my fall but as I am physically tied to Coach it doesn't cushion the impact from him as he falls down upon me! Possibly through shear frustration at my inept navigation or that he senses I'm tiring quickly, Coach takes the lead. We walk on until the light begins to fade but unfortunately the storm doesn't. In the ‘white-out' conditions we stumble upon a small bergshrund and agree that although the shelter it provides is minimal we will attempt to pitch the tent. With frozen hands we pull our Sierra Designs Tiros Assault tent from the back-pack and it inflates in the wind like a spinnaker on a maxi yacht. We drive the ice-axes into the upwind corners and haphazardly erect three out of the four poles. We don't even bother erecting the fly as we know we are incapable of holding it down in this wind. We weigh down the inside of the tent with our packs and then clamber in, boots, ice and all. The relief is instantaneous. It is amazing that microns of fabric can withstand this storm and divert the wind. For the first time all day we can communicate without screaming at each other. We shed our frozen gore-tex jackets and pants, and climb into our damp sleeping bags. I have never ‘spooned' with another male before but as it provides added warmth I don't complain. (For the record we are both in our own individual sleeping bags!) Outside the storm continues. We can hear the roar of the wind as it accelerates down the Pass. It is like being trapped in the lung of a heavy-weight boxer. As the roar reaches a crescendo we physically brace ourselves against the wall of the tent. As the onslaught hits, the tent collapses to the point where the roof rests momentarily just above our faces, it then springs back to shape in anticipation of the next punch. This continues throughout the night, I don't sleep through fear of the tent shredding and leaving us with no options; Coach doesn't sleep as he can hear me reciting the rosary over and over and over again!

Another day in Patagonia

The storm continues for two days. During a ‘calm' period on the second day we manage to resite the tent and strengthen it by adding the remaining pole and fly. We have only a few Energy Bars left to consume as the remainder of our food and equipment sits back down at the bottom of the Pass. (I forgot to mention that we have so much equipment and food that we must double haul our four packs. That means that we must eventually descend the route that we climbed two days ago. A prospect that I am less than joyous about having to conduct!) On the third day we wake to silence and cautiously exit our icy tomb. At least for the moment, Mother Nature has parked her freight trains, stowed her storm clouds and provided us with the most jaw-dropping view since Scarlett Johansson graced the big-screen. Unbelievably if I were to now drop a piece of paper it would fall at my feet. This is the first time that we have been capable of seeing more than 100m and the view now is limitless. In front of us stretches the Southern Patagonian Icecap. In the storm we have managed to gain the top of the Marconi Pass. To the north we can see the Chico Glacier subside and fall away, behind us lie the impressive peaks of Monte Fitzroy, Cerro Torre and the Cordon Marconi and in front of us is the impressive Hielo Continental Sur (Southern Ice Continent). We can see ice and snow-capped mountains in every direction. As there are no features to give us scale it is difficult to judge distances but it appears that we could ski from one side to the next in a day. (We later prove that this cannot be achieved!). For a short period life is great and I am thankful that I have been provided this rare opportunity to see what natural wonders our world beholds. That is until Coach starts to “Gore-up' in preparation of returning down the Pass to collect our remaining gear! I briefly contemplate the thought of Coach returning bearing both back-packs whilst I wait for him in the safety and comfort of the tent but realise that I could not ask him to do that-Not this soon into the trip anyway!

The walk out

AAA return to Cho Oyu

August 2004 saw a small AAA party venturing to ChoOyu in Tibet. At 8201m ChoOyu is the 6th highest mountain in the world and straddles the Tibet/Nepal border just west of Everest. It was the 2nd AAA expedition to ChoOyu, the first led by Roger G. in 2000 succeeded in placing three members on the summit.

Kathmandu was in chaos a day after our arrival. The murder of 12 Nepalis in Iraq by terrorist thugs had the place ablaze, torched by angry mobs, specifically any business remotely connected to the Middle East. Unfortunately for us, we were holed up in our hotel for three days. This was d? vu for me and reminiscent of the curfews on return from Everest in 2001. Eventually there were a couple of breaks between curfews that allowed us to purchase all our climbing food before finally jumping on a bus to escape the madness.

The journey to BC via Nylam and Tingri was uneventful, although the development in Nyalam was extraordinary. In the six years since my first visit in 1998, this remote village now had sealed roads with Tashi's Snow Land Hotel expanded with an internet caf?We did the traditional AAA acclimatisation trek to the TsaraTso sacred lake before departing for Tingri on 7 Sep.

We arrived at BC at 5000m on 8 Sep and after a couple of days acclimatising, we struggled up to ABC at 5600m over two days. The gain in altitude is brutal, with Michelle and David suffering the most. On the second day of the trek as I approached ABC, I came across Mark Inglis, the Kiwi double amputee who had lost both legs to frostbite in an amazing story of survival on Mt Cook in the early 1980s. I hadn't seen Mark in 25 years and it was remarkable to see him staggering around with a pair of rock climbing boots on his prosthetic legs. It just goes to show you what you can do if you have the determination.

ABC perched high on the glacier at 5660m had an incredible vista across to the Nangpa La, a high pass perched right on the Tibet/Nepal border. There were lot of people on ChoOyu, the most popular 8000m peak and particularly this year being the 50th anniversary of the first ascent in 1954.

We camped next to Russell Brice's Himalayan Experience expedition. Russell is well known to the AAA and is the most experienced and successful high-altitude guide. Russell's team consisted of no fewer than five New Zealanders including Mark Whetu, Lydia Bradey and Mark Inglis, all of whom I knew.

On 13 Sep, our trekkers left for Australia - a sad moment as we had enjoyed some wonderful times together on the journey to ABC.

No room for error while traversing this slope. Chris Warner negotiates the serac above Camp 1.

Our acclimatisation plan was quite simple: carry to LakeCamp at 5960m at the base of the NE ridge, sleep there a few nights and then carry and sleep at Camp 1 at 6300m prior to returning to BC for a rest. We were one of the few expeditions to use an interim camp. A wise move, as we did not suffer like many of the other teams with a long and difficult carry to Camp 1.

By 24 Sep were ready for a load carry to Camp 2. Being better acclimatised, the four of us moved to Camp 1 in just over 3? hours. Nic was not acclimatising well, so he elected to move to the various camps at his own pace. Camp 1 was a crowded place with well over 70 tents.

At 9.15am on 25 Sep, we departed for Camp 2 at 7000m. The trip took six hours - a straightforward climb except for one ice-headwall that took some time to negotiate. It was made more challenging by having to bypass eight sherpas with large loads hanging off a single 7mm nylon fixed rope. As the weather was exceptionally good, many teams made summit bids. This mass departure for the summit also led to the usual walking wounded - a heavy stream of climbers in a not so well state, being helped down. A number were left to their own devices and it was only because of the goodwill of other teams that they survived. Marty Schmidt, an ex-USAF officer and current AAA member was one such good Samaritan. He had short-roped a disoriented client with an oxygen cylinder strapped to his back.

Camp 2 was in a stunning location with wonderful views out to Shishapangma. The sunset was particularly glorious with a range of vivid colours. Earlier, Andrew Lock had returned from the summit in a single push from Camp 2, taking an impressive nine hours to the top. Following an indifferent night, we all returned to ABC having spent the obligatory acclimatisation sleep at 7000m.

The team leaving ABC for the summit bid (L-R: George, Zac, Mick, Chris)

Our planned departure date from ABC on 30 Sep was brought forward after Russell Brice warned me that our summit day of 3 Oct was forecast to have strong winds. Russell's weather forecasting capability was legendary. He gave me similar advice whilst on Everest in 2001 but because of the larger and more inflexible team structure, it was not possible to change plans at the last minute – to my regret. We discussed Russell's advice and decided to not only leave on 29 Sep but also to go directly from ABC to camp 2 in a single push in order to pick up an additional day. We left at 9am, with Mick and I making a cracking pace, getting to Camp 1 in under two hours. We lounged around C1 resting for a number of hours in the heat of the day. As Chris was not feeling well, George elected to stay with Chris and follow up behind Mick and myself the next day. Mick and I left at 4pm for Camp 2 in very cloudy and unsettled weather. By 6pm, we climbed to the top of the serac and immediately had to don warmer clothing due to the plunging temperature. We struggled into Camp 2 under moonlight just before 9pm with the thermometer down to -15 C.

The next day, Mick and I waited and waited for Chris and George. We were in a dilemma whether to stay or go up. We left at 2.30pm for camp 3, but within 100 metres of leaving camp, Mick couldn't continue and returned to Camp 2. I climbed on at a slow pace with a heavy pack. By 5.30, I reached the ar? below Camp 3 and donned my down suit as the sun dropped below the horizon. Half an hour later, I arrived at Camp 3 and set up the Bibler tent in the fading light. I dived inside the tent and struggled to keep warm, even inside my sleeping bag and down suit. I kept a stove burning for quite a while to bring some warmth to the tent.

I left at 3.40am on 1 Oct for the summit, climbing silently through the rock wall and steep slopes for a number of hours, reaching the top of the fixed rope at 7800m. Being the west face, the sun had not yet hit this side of the mountain and the cold seeped through my down suit There were only a handful of people left on the mountain, a couple of climbers ahead of me and one behind – the rest having returned to ABC. I plodded on and at about 8000m the sun finally hit me. By 10.15, I reached the edge of the great plateau and knew that the summit was only about one hour away. The terrain flattened out and I saw two packs that had been dumped by the climbers ahead of me. The plod along the top was very slow, with only 5-10 steps at a time before stopping for breath - 8200m without oxygen is bloody hard work. Finally, I reached the top at 11.30am. I could see Everest, an amazing vista with the entire north face and Khumbu icefall visible before me. I stayed on top for half-an hour with the cloud rolling in rapidly, obscuring what view I had.

I descended quickly, reaching Camp 3 at 3pm. I was in a dilemma whether to stay or descend to Camp 2. The decision was made for me when Chris arrived. Soon after, George and Mick arrived, setting up a second tent. It was great to see the other three having a go for the summit.

The next morning Chris left for the summit at 3.30 am but both Mick and George were lethargic and couldn't summon the energy to leave. By 8.30am, Chris had returned, reaching 8100 m, but turning around because of the intense cold. It was a great effort by Chris on his first major Himalayan expedition to get so high and without oxygen.

We packed up our gear and struggled down to Camp 1, clearing the Camp 2 along the way. Abseiling down the serac with a 35kg pack on a 6mm rope was very fast, having to wrap and extra loop around the abseil device for extra friction. I was managing the abseil well until Chris yelled out to me ‘I hope you have a prussic with you'. I then discovered a knot in the abseil rope, necessitating a lot of fiddling around to bypass the knot. At the bottom of the slope, exhaustion started to set in and we struggled in the dark with heavy packs, stopping every few paces for a rest. By 7pm, we staggered into Camp 1.

We left ABC on 3 Oct and we celebrated that night. With four of the team climbing to at least 7500 metres and two to above 8100 metres with one to the top.

Huayna Potosi

Slept well until about midnight, than hardly at all thereafter. In tent with Lincoln and up around 0245. About minus 2-3?C in the tent, but the thermometer on the pack in vestibule reads -14?C. Long slow process of getting dressed, thermals (2 for chest), Polartec trousers and shirt, Gore-Tex shell layer, harness, two pairs of socks, plastic boots (inner and outer), gloves (fingerless woollen, wind stopper, and mitts, Polartec inner and Gore-Tex outer), beanie, helmet, head torch and gaiters and I'm ready to go. Out of the tent by 0330 to find first groups from lower camp already passing. A full moon is still up, lighting everything in a pale glow as we scoff a hurried breakfast. Same three on rope and prepare to set off when Deb realises she has left sunnies and camera in tent, ducks back to collect and while this happens lose moon behind crest. Suddenly very dark with only the distant lights of La Paz and head torches to go by. Deb's goes U/S and I lend her my spare and off we set at 0415.

First few hundred metres of steep snow slope with linked line of the sparks of head torches of groups ahead of us. Hit first steep headwall, 60? plus of snow and solid ice with a few steps cut. Ice axe and crampon work in a narrow tunnel of light, swing, crunch, step, stop, pant, bloody tiring! Only about 40m but seems far longer. Eventually reach the top, almost disorientating, standing up with nothing around but a dimly lit ribbon of snow. Set off once more following a faintly seen trail of crampon marks in the snow, with the lights of La Paz now hidden and almost total dark. Find myself peering through the hood and trying to distinguish between distant stars and the faint specks of head torches high above us, as we seem to climb relentlessly. Soon isolated in my own little world being towed along by the rope vanishing off ahead of me, only the crisp crunch of snow under the crampons, squeak of the ice axe and the rhythm of my panting breath as it reverberates beneath my hood.

About 5800m have sudden attack of vertigo, dizzy and unsteady, whether from the altitude or the tunnel vision through hood and head torch, resulting in a loss of local vertical. Stop to chew on a food bar and find the water bottle is frozen, bugger! Cold is ferocious, -15 ?on the thermometer. Only my toes are feeling really cold, but Deb's extremities are really feeling it. I realise I can distinguish the line of the horizon, the first faint hint of dawn, and suddenly my dizziness is gone. Set off once more in steadily growing light with vision improving and suddenly find the final summit pyramid seemingly close at hand. The dawn light is spreading across the horizon behind us, lighting the entire world in a pale pink glow. Looking back we can see the dark dots on white of Lincoln and co coming up the snow slope behind us while above us are the small black forms of another group ahead, seemingly distant and insignificant on the steep expanse of snow above.

Pause to shorten ropes and a final check on gear and set off to tackle the final 200 metres. Immediately into steep 50-55? snow slope, ice axe and crampon work again and conscious of Deb's crampons just above my hands. Suddenly find ourselves lit in a startling wash of light sweeping down from the summit above as the sun breaks the horizon. Pause for a photo, delicate work balanced on the points of the crampons and looking back over my shoulder, but the brilliant red orb and sweeping patchwork of clouds makes a superb image. Once more into the interminable slog up the slope, sunnies now on against the glare. Deb is now going strong but the sun suddenly seems to sap me of energy and I find myself starting to need breaks as I pant breathlessly and stare at the skyline crest that never seems any closer. Then without warning the crest just seems to stop and we find that we are there, the summit of Huayna Potosi.

A handshake with Roberto and hug with Deb as we look around and try to absorb the vast expanse around us. Roberto drives in a snow stake and I perch my bum in a snow crack below the summit cornice. I drive in my ice axe and clip my pack to it. After so long staring at the snow only a few inches from my face, the yawning 1000m drop ahead of us and its associated sweeping vista suddenly make our position seemingly precarious and exposed. It's 0815 on a brilliantly clear and still day and around us stretches a vast 360? panorama. To the north of us marches the seemingly endless snow capped summits of the Cordillera Real, while to the east stretch the brown plains of the Altiplano, broken by the blue expanse of Lake Titicata. To the east, a patchwork of clouds fills the Amazon basin, while La Paz seems perched immediately beneath our feet. A magic view and I'm soon out with the camera trying inadequately to capture it for prosperity, whilst the GPS gives our height at 6110m.

Below us, seemingly between the points of my crampons, the dots of Lincoln, Arthur and Marcus are slowly creeping closer. Finally they arrive and another round of handshakes and congratulations as they too settle in to absorb the spectacle. Shortly after we are joined by another individual, inadequately equipped in hiking shoes, crampons and ice axe, and I find myself thinking he'll have fun descending. After about 40 minutes we decide to head down, me leading, then Deb with Roberto belaying from above on the ice stake. The snow is now soft from the sun and down climbing is now as tiring and time consuming as the ascent. Out to the full 60m of rope, then on belay as Roberto climbs down to us. Repeat this twice more with small pieces of snow bouncing off the helmet, as we find ourselves in the fall line of Lincoln and co descending above us. Finally reach the gentler snow slopes below the summit pyramid around 1130, once more admiring the views as we munch away and are shortly joined by the others. Deb suddenly (earnestly) broaches the option of re-booking our flight home, but my finances won't stretch the extra week after so long in South America, damn it!

The sun is really belting out the heat now, and the reflected glare is now bright and sapping as we slap on more sunscreen and Chap Stik before setting off. The trip down is amazing in its own way as we pass huge crevasses and intricate blue ice caves, all unseen and oblivious in the dark during the ascent. Reach the second down climb, now seemingly more exposed and difficult in the daylight. We negotiate this successfully before continuing our descent to our night camp at Campo Argentina at 5490m and its welcome hot cuppa! Arrive at 1230 and the descent seems amazingly quick after all the time it took going up. We are also soon made conscious of our luck with the weather as it rapidly deteriorates. By the time we leave at 1330, clouds have closed in and completely shrouded the summit, and we depart in driving sleet. We hurry down to the low camp in the rock band at 5190m where we once more change out of harness, crampons and boots and into Dunlop volleys for the descent through the rock band. Some poor unfortunates are setting up tents on the rock slabs in the worsening weather as we rapidly commence our scramble down through the boulder fields, seemingly pursued by the storm. As I settled in to sleep that night, I couldn't help but think what a surreal and magic day it had been, almost unbelievable, and that it was a fitting ‘high point' of our South American trip.

Climbing in Venezulea

On the summit

Venezulea

5000m of rugged peaks with massive crack and alpine snow climbing. It is the skilled rock climbing in the Italian Dolomites without the crowds. It is the Swiss and French peaks without the chalets and massive heaving throng of tourist climbers bent of their first peak over 4000m. It is just you and a deserted landscape of five soaring white eagle peaks.

Pico Bolivar

This was a 5 pitch rock climb up a couilar jammed with ice. Probably a technical climb of about grade 16-17 Australian. On the fourth pitch we reached a saddle that looked down the entire north face. We were perched on a thin sliver of rock with about a 1000m drop.

As you scramble over the last few meters of rock to the summit you come face to face with a one metre bronze bust of Simon Bolivar. He was the great South American liberator of 1813. The bronze bust was stolen from a park in 1951 by Pena el Baquiano who strapped the bust to his back and climbed to the summit of Pico Bolivar in an act to honour the famous liberator of the American people from the conquistadors. Darwin and I took the mandatory photos standing on the summit of the highest peak in Venezuela. Then being a padre we celebrated Mass.The second only ever Mass on the summit and the first by an Australian Army Padre. Now there's a first for the Army Alpine Association too. It was 12th January 2005 at 10.30am.