Mount Vinson

The lead up

“It looks like we may have to execute a layoff,” my boss said to me sadly. I tried, mostly in vain I suspect, to conceal my joy. The plan was to leave for Antarctica on December 1 with the hope that we could make it back in time for Christmas. We were scheduled to fly to the ice on the 5th and back on the 19th… so if everything went *perfectly* we would get back in time. The notorious Antarctic weather would have to cooperate very, very well. Riiiiiiiiight.

The flight to Puntas Arenas went smoothly and on schedule. My mountaineering boots and my down suit came on the plane with me... I figured if they lost all of my luggage I could borrow everything but those two things and still, maybe, make it. All for naught as the familiar haulbag meandered out to the luggage pickup. First step was the Antarctic briefing with ALE (the new ANI), only commercial operator who runs flights to the Patriot Hills base. They fly this goofy but pretty cool looking former Russian cargo jet. Fifty sweaty climbers sitting along the sides of the plane like paratroopers huddled around drums of fuel and provisions. Super.

Anyway, we spent a couple days in Puntas Arenas, Chile, getting ready and making sure that we didn’t forget anything. This was my first (and last!) truly guided expedition, so all I really had to do was follow orders and trust that the food, tents, etc. were packed and ready to go. In a way is was pretty cool, but I think I like making my own decisions better. Type A to the end.

Shockingly our flight took off exactly on schedule and we arrived at Patriot Hills on the 5th of December. There was one Twin Otter flight that they wanted to get out that night, and we were on it. Turns out one of the guides on our trip was a bit of an Antarctic luminary... sort of like an “ALE Platinum flyer” or something. Anyway, before we knew it we were at base camp setting up our tents and cooking up water.

Moving up route

The next day we went for a little acclimatization hike, from like 7K feet to maybe 8K. Huh? I’ve never been altitude sick at a ski resort, which is basically as high as where we were. But, I played the good soldier and in the process we all got our systems dialed for glacier travel. The glacier seemed pretty safe to me but our guides were obsessed about the possibility someone might fall into a crevasse. Anyway, the next day we moved up to our Camp 1 and got settled in.

So far the weather had be fantastic and I was starting to hope that we’d keep getting lucky and get the peak in a couple of days. It had happened in the past, albeit it was very rare. Boy was I about to be disappointed.

After a rest day we decided to do a carry up to high camp. The weather was holding, so we meandered up. The route skirts the base of a rather large face, then hooks right up an obvious headwall. Traditionally, high camp is placed just above the headwall, where we dropped and secured our loads and headed back to Camp 1.

The following day it began. Subtly at first, then with greater intensity over the course of the week. Antarctica had behaved for long enough, and we were about to get it, big time. In the end, the wind and a little snow was variable enough that it didn’t affect our lives too much, except to keep us completely pinned down at Camp 1. For about a week, each morning we would get up and look up valley toward the point where the route turns right. Each morning the same prominent wind cloud would appear and we would shuffle to the cook tent dejected. Welcome to Antarctic climbing.

After six days or so we were running low on food so we needed to make a run down to base camp to restock for a couple more days. The sky was clear as Dave, Justin and I sprinted down the glacier. A few hours down, flip, a few hours back. It was a relatively nice day for most of the day, clouds rolling in and out with a mild wind. As we approached camp, however, things changed dramatically. One of the lessons of the past year has been how volatile weather in the big mountains really is... and how fast it can change. About a quarter of a mile from camp the mother of all storms rolled in. The temperature dropped to maybe zero and the wind started blowing, hard. Pretty soon visibility was exactly zero as we wandered around inside a ping pong ball trying hard not to get blown over. Remember that scene in The Thing? Just like that. We dropped our gear, crawled into our tents, and listened to the wind rage as we tried to dry off. Five or six hours later the sky cleared, the wind stilled, and the world returned to normal. Incredible.

A note on the endless sun

The oddest part of the trip for me was the endless sun, which didn’t truly “set” for the entire time I was down there. For a few hours at night it would pass behind the ridge we were camped in front of and our camp would sit in shadow... but never get dark. Because the endless snow and ice amplified the brightness of the world around us, 2am bathroom runs required sunglasses. I don’t think I slept a full night through the entire time we were there... my circadian rhythm was completely screwed up, and nights consisted largely of a series of one to three hour naps. Not the most refreshing sleep, to say the least. As of this writing it’s been almost three weeks since we got off the ice and my sleep patterns still haven’t returned to normal.

Getting the summit

Finally the storm pattern broke, and after a day of carrying big packs up to high camp to complete our move up, we got ready to attempt the summit. An Antarctic alpine start occurs at about 10a, so we woke up at 7a on summit day. After so many days of peeking out of the tent in the morning to bad weather we were ecstatic at blue skies, calm winds, and warm temps. This is a day we can get it, I thought. Bring it on.

After a hot breakfast and some manipulating of gear, we tied into the rope and started up the route, moving very slowly and deliberately. The steepest section of the route is below high camp, so our summit day was basically a long slog across a glacier to a gentle slope to the summit. Very mellow, enjoyable climbing. As we gradually moved up in altitude, the starkness of the Antarctic environment became even more pronounced... nothing but ice and snow, rock and mountain, blue sky to be seen all around. It felt very much like being on another planet.

For about five hours we moved up, resting in segments of an hour or so each until we were at the base of the peak itself. Here Justin and I split off from the group to do a ridge traverse variation on the normal route. We climbed quickly up a moderate face to the ridge (seen on the right skyline in the picture), and cut right to a little sub peak to check out the views. Here we clowned around for a while, took some pictures, and then climbed the ridge toward the summit, following the tracks of another group who had come up that day.

Soon we made it to the summit itself. I slowly wandered up to the ski pole and tapped the point. Six. I said a short prayer and sent my dad a silent greeting. The weather turned out to be spectacular... probably just over freezing and crystal clear, in a way that only the big mountains can be. We could see the entirety of the Ellsworth range, all the way to the Ronne ice shelf. Whites. Rocks. Blue sky. It was absolutely incredible, like no other place on earth I have ever seen. We lingered on the summit for a while, knowing the weather was stable, and simply enjoyed our surroundings.

Eventually it was time to move down and we continued our traverse of the ridge, descending the side of the mountain that most climbers (including the rest of our IMG group) were coming up. We ran into our partners about mid-way down and took some pictures. We promised to have water and dinner ready for them and started our descent back to high camp while they headed up. It was so warm that Justin and I decided to take off our down suits, so we paused briefly and then sprinted down to high camp, arriving just under nine hours after we left. Some hydration and a bit of food later and we set about getting everything ready for our partners’ return in a few hours.

I spent a lot of time that night eyeing Mount Shin, hoping to get a second Antarctic ascent in before we had to move down. As it turned out we didn’t have the time to spare, and we moved all the way to base camp the next day. After a short overnight the Otter picked us up and flew us to Patriot Hills, past endless new peaks to climb. Again a short overnight and we hopped the Aleutian and were back in real civilization the next day. It was fantastic to get home for the holidays, another successful summit in the bag. And I’ve never be more happy to see the dark.

So Brendan found the place he was seeking,

The promise fulfilled, and the day without night.

It seemed a place that had no end or boundary

Blessed be the Lord,

For He has wonderously shown

His steadfast love to me,

His steadfast love to me.

Can I believe God would hide His goodness from me?

And in His time would open my eyes so I can see?

-- From The Voyage of Saint Brendan the Navigator