Here are a couple of excerpts from the diary that I wrote while I was on an expedition to the Yukon/Canada this summer. They tell of the highest and lowest points of the two and a half weeks of mountaineering that I did while I was out there.
We were to walk in towards the centre of the St. Elias range by means of the wide, flat, valley of the Kaskawulsh glacier, establishing a camp in a tributary valley which had apparently not been entered for at least fifty years. There we would get an air drop for our next ten days’ food, and attempt some of the unclimbed 10,000 foot peaks in the area.
Unfortunately, we were unable to get into the side valley, and had to set up the airdrop on the main glacier, hoping that the plane would still see us, intending to climb Mount Maxwell; 10,000 feet high and just four miles across the glacier...
Thursday 18th
Airdrop Day- woke early to have breakfast and set out a marker before Andy arrived. A fair amount of consternation was caused by the fact that he overflew us at about 10,000 feet in the middle of breakfast, but he was only returning from the Donjek.
By 10.00, the karrimats and bivvy bags were laid out on the glacier, and we sat back, waiting for 72 man-days of food to drop into our laps, as it were. By 11.30, we were getting a bit anxious, as there was neither sight nor sound of the plane. Two days of walk out on one day’s food was not a happy thought.
At 11.35 we were relieved to hear the welcome drone of the red ski-plane... only to see it fly past us and into the valley of our original drop site. After 1/2 hour of flying up and down, he gave us up and flew back down the glacier towards us.
The relief and exhilaration when he finally altered course towards us was incredible. After a few circles he turned, lost height, and flew fifty feet above our heads. Ten black boxes tumbled out of the plane and onto the glacier. The food had arrived!
Thirty seconds later we could smell it. As the plane came around for the second time, joy turned to disappointment. The second drop was no better- a multicoloured spray of chocolate, oats and curry powder as the boxes hit the deck.
Rushing into the drop zone, the carnage was astonishing. The surface of the glacier was covered in a pot-pourri of porridge oats, dried fruit, burst cans, and a few sorry pieces of torn newspaper. Three hours of hunting and gathering produced some interesting finds but no great success.
The whole experience was totally surreal; in one place 2 kg of spaghetti was strewn over the glacier like pick-up-sticks, almost like the carefully placed objects in an ’arty’ photograph, just catching the late afternoon sun. Toffees were everywhere; some intact in their wrappers, some shattered into many pieces. After three hours, 72 man days of rice, potato powder, nuts and raisins, lentils, porridge, muesli and other miscellaneous substances remained unrecoverable.
The decision was inevitable; with all our staple foods scattered on the glacier, there was no way that the eight of us could safely reach the summit and return. After some discussion we decided to eat what we could, burn what we couldn’t, and start the walk out to Observation campsite immediately...
Well this was obviously a bit of a downer, as they say, but we had still spent over a week trekking in the most spectacular natural environment that I have ever seen, and everybody was keen to use the remaining four or five days to try .html mountain near the edge of the range. After the walk out we stocked up in Whitehorse, and decided to go for Mount Vulcan; 9,500 feet and only two days from the road.
Monday 22nd
After a brief encounter with a moose’s backside we reached 1he end of the track at 1.00 or so. We all piled out of the bus, raring to go, savouring the exquisite heaviness of our packs, and generally rejoicing at the thought of .html day’s walk-in.
In fact, it was a great day’s walk. We stopped at a small crag by the river for an hour, fitting in some much needed rock climbing, then walked on up a stony glacial stream with trees on either side, then scrub, and finally the glacier itself- each turn in the river revealing new glimpses of the way ahead.
In a strong wind, we set up our tents and cooked a meal- lentils again, just for a change! The view up the valley was exciting- the snowy peak of Vulcan to the left, flanked by a big icefall on one side, and a long skyline ridge on the other- our intended route for the climb.
Tuesday 23rd
A very non Alpine start was followed not particularly rapidly by a shambling departure from this camp. 40 minutes took us to the snout of the glacier and lunch, followed by several hours snowplodding into a huge cwm just below the Vulcan ridge. The views were fantastic- snow, ice, and rock everywhere- glaciers, snowfields, absurd pinnacles, teetering icefalls, and a completely clear blue sky.
Cooked meal.
Sunset at 8.00
Instant 5° temperature drop.
In bed by 8.20.
Six hours lying awake.
Two hours asleep.
"Wakey wakey- its gone four o’clock"
Rapid movement- sit up grab cheese put on socks eat dates find torch don trousers, jacket, hat. Sort out boots more food out of tent. Harness up; just one bag and waterproofs. Boots done up, gaiters on, crampons fastened, rope uncoiled, ready to go.
"What are they doing in the other tent?"
"Well they must be nearly ready by now"
"Can you get out, Adrian, so that I can start getting dressed."
Oh my God!
50 minutes wait proves a major piss-off factor for Duncan- so much for ’anyone not ready by 4.30 gets left behind’, eh?
And we’re off... before dawn with our headtorches on, roped up as we cross the small bergschrund (good snow bridge). Some front pointing then easy snow to a col. Seriously good view of the Kaskawulsh Glacier, winding away in the early morning light- too dark for photos really, but I try a couple of the sunrise (1/2 a second- be lucky, eh?)
Broken scree, up a slope, then snow again, moving onto the slightly corniced ridge. Short sections of front pointing interspersed with steepish snowplodding bring us to within 100 feet of the summit. Crossing a small cornice to the right would take us onto shallower slopes, but under the large cornice of the summit ridge. Left looks very steep and exposed. We go right, stepping out carefully into a traverse onto easier ground. The summit cornice creaks slightly as we pass beneath, but it’s below freezing, so it doesn’t fall. Following Ian’s horribly huge (even for me!) steps, we reach the summit with no trouble.
What can I say? After 10 days we have finally made it. Feeling happy, we eat some food, and wander along the ridge for a better view. Amazing- we can see the lake, the glacier, everything, almost everywhere we have been for the last 40 days.
The descent follows shortly afterwards; with the clouds and temperature low there is no incentive to stay high. After the first section to the cornice we walk easily downwards, arriving at the camp about an hour later.
Five minutes to rest, then breakfast, pack, and head on down the glacier. The tents are frozen into the hard snow, and we have to chip them out, damaging the valences in the process. Soon the snow comes in- we were down from the peak just in time.
After a straightforward descent to the snout of the glacier, we decide to stay at ’Camp I’ for the night, since everybody is tired. Duncan seems upset, complaining several times that we are just wasting time. He wants to walk all the way out, but is it worth it?
Lying in my bed after midnight with a stomach ache, I hear movement at the other end of the tent. Five seconds later, Duncan’s body launches itself like a floppy missile from the other end of the tent and lands on top of me.
"What the fuck are you doing?" I mutter sleepily.
"Hrauaaagh" moans Duncan by way of explanation, scrabbling feebly for the tent door.
The small pile of partly digested lentils on my jacket leaves no room for doubt; there is nothing for it but to crawl out of my bag and try to clear up some of the mess.
So much action in a single day, eh?