South Georgia ski expedition
We are nearing the end of another hugely enjoyable South Georgia expedition – my twelfth visit to the island, but my first aboard the new vessel Amundsen. While the Vinson team has been preparing for the Shackleton Traverse, the ten guests aboard Amundsen have been doing what I like best –single day ski tours, returning each night to the comfort of the boat.
The weather has been trying. 72 knot gusts were recorded at anchor in Molkte Harbour. On the Fortuna Glacier the wind almost knocked us to our feet. On the Salomon Glacier, right down at the southeast tip of the island, we descended sheet ice in a near whiteout; luckily the angle was easy enough for basic trundling. Not so the descent from Breakwind Ridge a few days later: most of us had to crampon gingerly down steep ice slopes, where ten years ago we used to meander happily on skis, towing sleds with ease: shrinking glacier ice has hollowed out what was once a gentle slope.
However, there have been some perfect days. One of the best was our crossing from Fortuna Bay to Stromness. On the British Antarctic Survey map a dotted red line marks the official line of this ‘Shackleton Walk’ – the final stage of the epic journey made by Ernest Shackleton, Tom Crean and Frank Worsley in 1916. Quite apart from the history, it is a lovely walk, but in late winter, with everything smothered in snow, it is an even better ski tour. And the great thing is that – like every journey on South Georgia – it is different every time.
Keen to avoid the barefoot crossing of the König River, we persuaded skipper Paul Guthrie to drop us in the southeast corner of Fortuna Bay at Worsley Beach. Amundsen’s mate Jacob Bonnick and deckhand Marian Esperón did their usual brilliant job of ferrying us ashore in the zodiac, reminding me again that skilful beach landings are vital to the success of these expeditions. A lone fur seal watched suspiciously as we set off, ski boots crunching on beach ice, then floundering up through steep snow-drifted tussock grass. Luckily the floundering was short-lived and soon we could put on skis and settle into the gliding rhythm of skinning – the best way to travel through mountain country.
In the dim and distant past, when I worked briefly as a schoolteacher, there was a lot of debate about the relative merits of ‘mixed ability’ classes. On this trip we are certainly a mixed ability team, where several members are far better skiers than the leader, some people have never done any serious mountaineering, and fitness levels vary. So we tend to take a fairly conservative approach, setting a nice steady pace, stopping every hour for a short tea break, always having someone at the back to ‘sweep’, making sure no one gets left behind. And on a comparatively short trip, like the ‘Shackleton Walk’, it all works very well.
Rather than follow the official dotted line on the map, we picked the best line for skis, trying to avoid areas where South Georgia’s relentless wind had scoured the slope to bare ice and sticking to softer snow. The most prominent landmark on the way up is the little lake – at this time of year frozen over and barely distinguishable from the surrounding snows – known as Crean Tarn. It was here, taking a short cut in 1916, that Tom Crean broke through the ice and nearly drowned, just a few miles from the safety of Stromness. We skied round the edge.
Starting from Fortuna Bay
The Fortuna-Stromness watershed
A final climb and we were on the watershed, looking down into Stromness Bay. Despite the sunshine, it was bitterly cold, so there was no relaxed picnic: just a moment to savour the emotive view – the view which told them in 1916 that they really had made it. Skins off, ski boots tightened, bindings switched to downhill mode and we were away down the far side. I have skied down here four times and each time we seem to take a slightly different route. It’s an awkward descent, with several different water courses tempting the unwary. The problem with water courses is that they nearly always end in tears, as Shackleton & Co discovered in 1916, with their infamous abseil through a freezing waterfall. So we swung back and forth, crossing stream beds, but not committing to them. And for once the snow was almost perfect – creamy powder with no edge-catching crust to worry about. I even managed a few halfway decent S curves, and was delighted when we managed to find a nice descending traverse line, taking us well above the Shackleton Waterfall. A few more turns and we were down in the flat of the valley, bindings back in ‘walk’ mode as we lolloped down the last mile to the beach. As always, the finish was special. Only on South Georgia can you finish a lovely day’s touring, sitting amongst a scattering of abandoned giant marine bronze propellers, next to the rusting remains of a whaling station turned shipyard. A lone fur seal had seen us off from Fortuna. Here a lone Gentoo penguin waddled past as we waited on the beach for Jacob and Mariana to come and pick us up.
Photos from Stephen Venables, Chuck Gates, Mariana Esperón and Kirst Macguire.
Stephen Venables
Expedition leader
