Day Twenty-six - Homeward Bound

Eight o’clock was the official rise up time, but surprisingly many were up earlier feasting on shreddies and the occasional morsel of toast!! Breakfast flowed into packing and cleaning up, and by 10.30am we were ready to take off from Arsel on our little jaunt into the big city.

Healthy Life leftovers was all we could afford...

Given about 3 hours to kill, murder weapons were thin on the ground. Wool shops, wool shops and more wool shops, a café (polser, chips and a coke for £2.00) and more wool shops, a supermarket (where I discovered some brunekager!) and a pastry stall. Reykjavik cannot be said to buzz. Murmur might be putting it a little strong.

Back on the bus at 2.00pm and on the way to Keflavik at last. Chain man unloaded the rucksacks and regrouped into our science fires. Checking in went unhitched followed by duty frees and then an un-alcoholic drink from a none-the-less very expensive duty-free bar. 

The airport was very busy sending Americans back where they came from and our boarding announcement was very late, preceded by an announcement of an offer of a free night in the best hotel in Reykjavik – all expenses paid plus spending money to anyone who would like to take the next plane – over-booking but not quite Nigeria style – leaving us Sean-less. Boarding was quick and easy, in front and back, and I have just finished my first meal of real meat (i.e. not just dehy, luncheon, corned or fish!) in 4 weeks. In about 2 hours’ time I will be in London. This will finally be over.

We’re landing now. I think I can finally say R.I.P. to this diary and B.S.E.S..

Day Twenty-five - Tourists (Gulfoss & Geysir)

Rise and shine to rigidly defined areas of doubt and uncertainty pertaining to the day’s itinerary, only to be confirmed by a quick word with our man in London. 

Swimming at 10.00am (or so) then lunch, then a trip, then dinner. The day looked positively eatable! And none-the-less very beautiful. The bus came to take us swimming and we arrived and went into the changing rooms which seemed to have been taken over by military dictatorships! Undressing here, towels here (NO drying in the dressing area) and a wash (without swimming costumes and “here is the soap, would you please use it”). Obviously a paranoia of social diseases. 

Having survived the treatment we actually got to have a swim!! In a great big outdoor pool which was, though, very warm, sulphurised and chlorinated. Along the sides were hotspots for the thick skinned, and on the other side, a great big kiddies pool, where great big kiddies played ball. 

Out by 1.00pm and led by Snorri to lunch – a bit of a walk, but worth every calorie! Cauliflower soup followed by … fish garnished with onion and potatoes, and lashings of salad and 1000 island, AND seconds! Followed by the closest thing to trifle since… school trifle, which was quite delicious.

A person provides scale

Then the two-hour coach journey across south-west Iceland boring landscape to waterfalls and geysers.. Well it was a jolly good waterfall.

Gulfoss Waterfalls

Liz and I - reunited after the adventure phase

The geyser, a smaller one Scrottur, not the famous one Geysir, did erupt.

Scrottur erupts....

..and recedes

.. and, since it goes off like clock-work,
we're allowed a closer look

  .. and I bought an Icelandic sweater and got rid of some travellers’ cheques.

And what a worthwhile 6 hours that was! Then we reached the restaurant and were told to sample the bright (traffic?) lights of Reykjavik for 45 minutes until dinner was ready. Well in Iceland, girls whistle boys (and girls), people like driving around, and around, and around and benches are not forthcoming.

Then we got back to dinner, hailed as a great Smorgasbord layout. The chef obviously had great delusions of being French, and the sumptuous bowl of mushy soup with brown bread and butter, was succeeded by a meagre, but none-the-less very beautiful, meal of flounder in hollandaise sauce, 3 shreds of carrot, a sprig of cauliflower and two potatoes. 

Very tasty but Val saved the day and very generously supplied 2 bottles of old nouveau! ALCOHOL!!! The meal was concluded by skyr with mil followed by a more jazzy contribution by the band, and various attempts by the likes of me and Liz, along with Woody and Nick Braithwaite, to induce some dancing – but apart from an attempt at a tango by Ray and Janet and some impromptu break-dancing by Adrian Miller, we were not totally successful. 

We were shepherded out at about 12.30am following a leader’s speech, piled onto the coach and finally back to Arsel where John brought his martini out. With Ian rather the worse for wear (but none-the-less very beautiful) from the effects of the local Brennevin, and Claire, Rog, Liz, John and myself quite well along the way, we sang, guitared, broke glasses, headbanged amongst numerous other activities to the strains of Queen and Howard Jones, about one hour after which we were ushered to bed by the rather less jolly members of the band. However we did continue with a little game of ‘grab the spoon’ in our corner until a shortage of matchsticks reduced visibility. 

A jolly last night in Iceland!!

Day Twenty-four - Back to Civilisation

The ‘lift off’ went very smoothly indeed, with a communal breakfast at about 7.00am of Alpen and milk (or paraffin if you’re Monty) with a general terrace clearance. 

The container arrived at 8.30am and human chains crammed its every corner with John West generosity, tents and Dave. 

The bus arrived at 9.40am, and by 10.00am Base Camp had been returned to its natural, and none-the-less very beautiful, state. 

The bus journey was uneventful except for a twenty-minute break to mend a trailer tyre. We arrived in Reykjavik (or rather Arsel youth centre) at 6.00pm…

The Adventurers return

... to be greeted by the thought of saunas and showers, the great indoors, warmth, mattresses… The paths of cleanliness, however, are not straight – and after ten minutes the girls’ shower voted against cold water and for third degree burns. A little mechanical alteration though having reduced both showers to torrential river temperature (see earlier) restored normality and 10 days (at least) of grime were showered, sweated and showered away.

Day Twenty-three - cleaning the skis

6am rise for John, Sam, Rob, Ed and Richard who are going to collect the automatic weather station from up by the nunatak. We were not happy people at 8:30am to find that they had scoffed ALL the porridge and left all their billies dirty. However I did manage to scrounge ½ tin off Ian (to whom we may be eternally grateful). The day was set aside for cleaning up and improving the ski situation. 

This involves:

1. Taking off ALL the wax – very tedious and quite yucky in the rain
2. Drying the skis off completely by bringing them into a tent with a primus and a person (Philippa or me) for about an hour
3. Varnishing them (with highly toxic stuff – to be used in ‘well ventilated places’ like tents!)
4. Leaving them to dry
5. Varnishing them (ditto)
6. Leaving them to dry (ditto)

TEDIOUS? You ain’t seen nuthin’ yet!

Day Twenty-two - Back to Base Camp

Back to base camp day. 

First delivery for those who didn’t want to try proper down-hilling i.e. me, Philippa, Matt, Ed and Mike who’d already been. We left at 11am to reach a pro-glacial pick-up point at 12:00. All very well if you go in the right direction. About 2 hours later, having been most of the way down the wrong side of the glacier and prevented from going straight back across the glacier due to a massive crevasse field, with a pulke and no crampons. 

Luckily Jim was waiting with the Land Rover when we finally descended the snout, and we piled skis, rucksacks and ourselves in and on the Land Rover. 45 minutes later and the base camp was in sight!!!

HOME!!!

New was that Ski 2 had reached their objective and climbed Oraefejokull and down to the road and caught the bus about a day earlier. 

The bus for the Myvatn group had been booked for the wrong day so instead of being back Thursday evening they had only left on Friday morning and were due back later. Jim had commented to Ray that “Amundsen won again” and had been told somewhat irritably to shut up; and it hadn’t stopped raining at Myvatn.

The others arrived back at about 6pm. We stayed in our adventure groups, but Liz, Claire and I got a good natter in and I was I.C. for the evening, and I I.C.’d rather well (or so I thought!). Food was overflowing, like a massive tin of creamed rice, 5 tins of corned beef (nice fried) and baked beans in plenty. John West had been very generous.

Tent arrangements had been modified to 5 i.e. 2 per tent and I shared with Philippa. The emptiness caused me to wake up thinking that I had been abandoned on the icecap whilst they all walked off…. Luckily I don’t think anyone heard me calling for Roger.

Anyway, I’m still alive. Sustained by frequent visits to Liz and the loo (usually with Belinda in it). Having been told that the main base would cater for the glacier groups, I made dinner for us, to be asked about 9:00pm to make a meal for the aforementioned ice persons. Rog drummed up five packets of cheesecake (one packet for two people!) and I awaited the arrival of the inflatable. After one false alarm thanks to Henrey. I got the timing right and served up a passable goo of fried corned beef and tomato, and macaroni and baked beans at about 11:30pm. Philippa and Matt both put in their bit and the weary were all well satisfied (apart from a lack of a primus making a simultaneous brew impossible). Having rapidly packed my unpacked rucksack, I scrambled into bed at about midnight in preparation for the ‘six o’clock’ get started for tomorrow.

Day Twenty-one - Last day on the Ice

7:00am rise, again to brilliant sunshine, and another trip up Snofjell. I didn’t go and although people raved about the views, I think it was the best idea for my general constitution.

The bedding gets a much needed airing

After a brief lunch we left at about 2:00pm and skied toward the glacier we had started from. 

The journey was fairly pleasant (if not mostly uphill but none-the-less very beautiful) until after about 2 ½ hours we descended into the murk and, being quite tired, we were informed that we were in a fairly rigid and well defined area of doubt and uncertainty, i.e. we were lost. Martin (chief pack carrier and navigator) finally managed to locate us with the result of 8km to go. 

The straightest way between two points
in a snow crevasse field on skis

Whoopee. 

Onward we went with each long slow ridge producing another after it. Then someone announced that the ski-lift and our hut had been identified about 4km ahead. Then we hit the crevasse field. 

Luckily none of the snow bridges fell through. And we all managed to keep our balance on the ridges which separated the massive ones (about 10m wide!!) and we arrived at the top of the slope down to the hut. 

Well, I’ve never been a great one from downhill skiing and having gone about 50m picking up speed at an alarming rate my courage (courage? What courage?) left me and I did quite an impressive A over T. Roger was very helpful and picked me up and gave me instructions to snow plough or traverse (although crevasses made that dodgy – geddit?). I fell down again whilst turning, but 15m downhill made a momentous and best decision for two weeks. I un-skied and walked. Life was much easier. I arrived last at the hut – freed from skis for as long as I wanted! 

To be greeted by yummy Alpen flapjack (Roger P.) and hot chocolate (ditto). The Grimsvatn group came down a day earlier having been driven back by awful weather and deep snow (even Scott took skis!) – and a retaining party awaited our arrival, amused by downhill skiing and playing with snow-cats. 

We pitched our tent on a lump of frost-shattered product. Rob and Sam decided to do x-country down-hilling, since the ski lift was going to be switched on, and didn’t return until about 1am having visited the group that were sampling the delights of snow-holing. 

I slept very well that night.

Day Twenty - the Sun comes out

The wind had calmed and one could almost say it was a beautiful day. We skied back up the ridge (that we had come down two days previously). I felt terrible – in that I didn’t feel I could stand up without falling down, which isn’t a good way to ski! However we packed up and set off. We skied quite hard with a short break for lunch in the brilliant sunshine. Rog carried my fly since I was having difficulty again with my waist strap (bl**dy Karrimor). 

My stuff
(looks like some moisture got in the camera...)

At about 4pm we stopped and were informed that we were at Snofjell! (the nunatak at the top of Heinebjergsjokull)

 The leaders offered a whistle-stop tour up to the top. Sam and Rog went up with Mart and Nick.

John and Rob sat and sunbathed (like the active people they are).

And Philippa, Val and I went further up the ridge for ½ hour. From there we saw right across the icecap from Oraefjokull.

Philippa and Val (I was taking the picture)

The view was quite magnificent with a beautifully clear sky, and cloud enveloping round the lower glacier valleys. We went down in about half the time, although the snow was still very slushy on the lower part and didn’t (combined with the high-tec plank design of the skis, induce a high rate of knots. As the sun began setting the temperature got very much colder, and a brew was made as we awaited the arrival of the others and our dinner.

They arrived back a little later than expected but a ten minute watch-out confirmed us of their continuing life. The sunset was beautiful, and an orange glow settled on the horizon of the ice cap all night, with tall the ski-bindings and metal fittings giving off a fluorescent glow in the blue-ish snow. 

We were asked to inform the others if any of us saw the Northern Lights during the night. Mart called us out at about 11.30pm but the effect was merely a thin moving band of nebulous white across a small portion of the sky/ Well, I HAVE seen them!

I got the shivers really badly that night and my face was burning terribly. John had some calamine which I gratefully borrowed (having rustled around outside with Roger’s rucksack looking for his for about 10 minutes) which helped me sleep a lot better.

Our Leaders Martin and Val taking a well-earned rest

Day Nineteen - Divine Intervention?

Another day in bed due to the gales and very limited visibility which would be essential if we were to continue with our original changed plan.

Toward the evening I decided that a hymn evening might persuade the powers that be that a weather change would be a jolly good thing and we rendered forth with the likes of “I vow to thee” and “Jerusalem” and “Oh little town” etc. . 

I also rather hoped that we wouldn’t be going back via Heinebjergsjokull. Well waiting and seeing and getting jolly cold outside was all we could do. The leaders had decided that we would move whatever….

Day Eighteen - on the Move again

The plan for today is to ski towards Snofjell with the aim of returning back to the base via the ice-dammed lake and Geomorph-Life Science Valley. I remember going there with Greg and I don’t see how it can be done but que sera sera.

Reminder: skiing down from the icecap,
across the glacier and up here..

Skiing was pretty good today. I sewed my rucksack up and it was actually not too uncomfortable. We were going along at a fair pace. We had lunch under flys, I with the four boys, during which we decided that it might be an idea to rearrange accommodation. The original plan was for me to swap with Rob. I just mentioned the plan to Val before we continued and she said that she would mention it to the others. 

Anyway, rain/bad light/gales and 10m visibility stopped play whilst we were all happily beadling along into a crevasse field, and after a bit of hoo’ing and ha’ing I moved in swapping with Matt – and we pitched with great difficulty when the slightest attention loss caused Karrimats to go very far for a Burton. 

Life had begun to look up a little. The cards were brought out, then dinner was had, then those, literary (or il-literary, resorting to the likes of Judith Krantz) – minded read. Sleeping was crowded but warm, and also gave cooking opportunities a limited scope.

Luckily John and Rob made passable porridge!

Day Sixteen - The Nadir

Although the wind seemed to lull in the night, a blizzard white-out proper has now blown-up. 6am this morning came and went, and when I finally decided that my bowels could take the strain no longer, I discovered that it was 10:20, my boots and laces frozen, my Cagjac soaking and the surface of the inner tent drenched. Actually venturing our produced a curios difficulty in maintaining standing up (or squatting) positions, a lot of frozen snow in eyes, nose, clothes etc. and a gradual pile up of snow on the fly.

Four days have been spent in this fashion, with today’s added bonus of a wet interior but books need reading and diaries need writing. Thank God our tent is still up (Touch wood. What wood?).

Sam came back in a little after I came back to inform me that we were leaving at 11am “apparently you can ski more in a blizzard with the wind behind you”- and did I know the word ‘gullible’ had been taking out of the dictionary?

The only external evidence of civilisation (?) is the clatter of Rob doing their tent’s ‘snow scrubbing-up’ – maybe he’ll do ours as well since he’s using our pan scrubber. That would be nice. (He just did).

Now, tent retirement. Sleep comes with difficulty since the tent is constantly roaring from the wind/, and now we have the additional heavy patter of iced snow. What fun?

15:30 – 1.5 hours to take-off – the conditions have improved and we are finally leaving the dump. Rations to be sorted and carried and the tent to be packed and carried and…

We’re off!

John and Roger were navigating up ahead and Sam, Philippa and I counting paces. The snow alternates frequently between powdery and slushy, and it is cold. The views are quite something though. Eternal expanses of white which are mildly undulating.

Then I began falling down and my weakness results in 10 minutes just trying to get my damn rucksack straight. The waistband is faulty and it is agony to carry. Various people seem to think that I am doing this on purpose (or so it appears to me). Life is very, very, very miserable. I shouldn’t be here because I’m not fit enough and frankly prefer the cushier life. My right shoulder and hip are in constant pain and I keep overbalancing. I don’t know how on earth I am going to survive these next few days but I do know that I have paid a great deal of money to be unhappy. I am accused of whingeing when I say anything (which is probably true) and when I’m not being laughed at I’m being hurried along and reprimanded. I can’t blame anyone except myself and although I know the only solution is to grin and bear it, I just can’t handle it. I’m always clothes, my clothes wet and unable to cope. How I wish I was like Sam. I HATE this.

Day Fifteen - another day of White Out

Another day spent indoors. Sam valiantly arranged our rations in a wind that made everything very difficult and very cold.

Boys build walls when bored... 

Rob and John came in for brews and card games and I wrote my diary. There doesn’t seem to be much sign of a let-up. 

Roger (LS) has built a snow wall around his tent to buffer against the wind and the boys were making a lot of noise though I’m not sure what about since I (sensibly) stayed inside my tent. .

We re-pitched our inner tent which somehow seemed to be straying downhill (though we’re now on the flat) but so far so good.

I’d better wake Sam now since we’re having an early dinner. A very early start (like 6am) if the weather gets better. Who can tell?

Day Fourteen - Looking for the Store Dump

Most of today was spent reclining, with recce parties trying to locate the elusive store dump. We stayed tent bound, filled only by a ration of porridge and tea, until news came through that the objective had been located and the recce group would be returning with sustaining supplies, until which time we were to get everything packed in our tents..

Visibility improved along with Mars Bars, Healthy Life and tuna and by 5:30pm we were off. Skiing was generally downhill or flat and the dump came into sight within one hour. We sped on with the thought of our destination.

Terrain was flat and snow deep with a gale brewing so we rapidly pitched, badly in the wind having to trample the site down with our skis, and resigned ourselves to the night ahead with a feast of dehy beef and onion mash, the remainder of our Healthy Life rations. Hot chocolate and apricots.

That night the wind blew.

Day Thirteen - Up onto the Ice

Rose early as intended and were in the bus and loaded by 10.30am. The first bus load was taking the two ski groups as far up the glacier as possible (via a dry road) to start our walk up to the snow cap.

About 5km from there, the driver decided that the road was no longer negotiable so we loaded our rucksacks onto the land rover and followed behind with our skis/ Half way up we met the land rover on the way down, and 10 of us (and driver) were taken to the point where the glacier started.

We offloaded the land rover and on loaded ourselves with our skis in the most interesting and most lethal positions....

... and started up the, only fairly dry, ice - sans crampons or ropes, with only crampons to help us along. 

After about 1.5 hours (and a very sore back) crossing crevasses and supra-glacial streams., we saw the snow cap, and the ski-2 group having had lunch and donning skis. So having reached that point, sustained ourselves on meagre cheese rations and a hunk of bread, we waxed up and……

I may have been one of the only young explorers to have X-country skied before, but I was about the worst. A total lack of grip and a constant tendency to slide sideways, reduced morale and confidence to an all-time low. However time was short, as well as rations, and there was a dump to reach, so we set off uphill, Myself bringing up a very sorry rear.

Sam dropped back when my ankle (heel) became unbearable and took my mind off it by playing Fizz-Buzz and associations (which tended to begin and end with “snow”!). We started running along the Grimsvatn group who were progressively sinking deeper into the snow. 

After about 3 hours (6pm), the snow cat course we were following changed course sharply to the left, but we followed the tracks made by the ski-2 group since we assumed it was merely in order to avoid a crevasse (which Richard actually fell into but stuck due to his rucksack and skis). 

About 1.5 hours later, we began to climb a step hill having still not run into the snow cat tracks. Visibility was about 50m and Rob and I were having serious difficulty getting up the sloped. Finally we picked up our skis and walked in the tracks of the walkers. Soon a gathering of the clans emerged from the mist, and morale gradually rose as the order to pitch was given. 

Flattening the tent pitch

A small terrace had to be formed and flattened with feet, shovels and karrimat-bivvy bag rolling pins and snow piled up on the fly-sheet apron.

Rations were severely limited and in our case, ran to a Mars bar (or fudge) each, tea, and one cup of hot chocolate. Sanitary functions were cold with a long Cagjac as the only means of maintaining one’s posterity.

In the fading light, our day ended on a foggy hillside, short of rations, with tents itched amongst standing skis and poles and no definite location of the dump. However reassurance was given by the fact that three parties were present, including numerous leaders and our commandant, Ray Ward.

Day Twelve - Preparing for the Adventure Phase!

No ice climbing today – only for Mairi and Claire who have not yet been on the ice. Today is general removal day with 07.30am rise for Liz who is leaving for Oraefejokull, taking a primus and our tent. The whole morning is spent striking tents, fitting skis and generally returning the campsite to its natural, but none-the-less very beautiful state. 

Roger came around early this morning and took our geomorph group photo during breakfast.

Back row (L-R): Nick, Greg, Woody, Mairi
Liz, Claire, Mark, Andrew
Cicely, Ian, John

Fetching Breakfast

Making Breakfast seriously

Making Breakfast less seriously

Waiting for Breakfast

We had a great hunk of cheese for lunch, and then moved into our new fires for the adventure phase, and re-camped at base camp. My group consists of:

Dr Val
Martin (from Hertford)
Sam, Rob, John (all from Felstead school)

Philippa

Roger (from Magdalen)

Matt and myself.

Tent arrangements are:

3 leaders

3 girls

4 boys

Luckily our tent was already pitched, being Snorri’s our Icelandic (Roger Risdall-Smith lookalike) counterpart, but smelling dreadfully of dried fish! Rucksack checked left us with one towel, soap, toothpaste, foot powder, 1^st Aid Kit etc. between the whole tent and very little else. Onto the snow-cap tomorrow, leaving by 10:00am.

What lies ahead?

Day Eleven - Camp Chores

Awoken to the sound of howling gales all through the night, we braved the still windy outdoors to discover camp bathed in brilliant sunshine!

Claire, Liz and Mairi went off for their walk and the others got down to dhobeying. About 10.00am Roger returned, having been arrested from his walking intentions to move supplies 500m from a dry site to a snow cap site from whence they could be transferred to a snow cat. Preparations for the adventure phase are getting underway. Ski fitting tomorrow, Woody, much to his dismay, has been transferred from Oraefjokull ice climbing to Myvatn due to podiatric problems and Claire is going to Grimsvatn with Roger. Ice climbing tomorrow. I hope not!

Day Ten - Culinary delights

Last day down at the river, with Mark and John, taking a final few Abney levels. 

Woody collecting fresh water from the river

Berry picking on the way back rendered three tin-fulls and, when everyone else had gone off either strolling or abseiling, John made fruit mush and dinner and I cleaned the mess tent. John was a little generous on the potato water, but corned beef, corn, tomatoes and baked beans with runny potato make a very nice soup. The boiled down berries and banana custard made a lovely (I thought) pud. 

The martyr that I am, I did all the washing up and carried more water, after which Ian decided that I had reached my century in brownie points! Ray came around later in the evening to eat Greg’s yummy salami and tell us how he had been thrown out of the Cubs. We had quite an enjoyable time, then Ray went back to Base (hopefully to post my postcards which had finally been written), and we toddled bed-wards. 

A walk with Roger was offered at 09.00am for them what wanted the next day, but I decided against it. Mondays are for resting.

Day Nine - Camp Recreation

Off to the river again, measuring pebbles and stream velocities – scintillating to the utmost (REAL bread for lunch).

After dinner (which I believe contained REAL potatoes), Roger (sah!) came over and taught us ridiculous songs and things to do when bored in came – and we all had a thoroughly jolly good laugh.

Roger leading the camp songs... 

I believe this was the 'Sorry' song

After that Life Science and Geomorph teams took on a confident Survey team (and beat the pants off them!). The victory was greatly helped by back-stop throwing by ”Henrey” (hooray) in a very excited state which tended to overshoot the terrace and brilliant play from a deaf boy in LS. Greg and Liz were talking Geography when I got back so I went to bed.

Day Eight - Measuring Lake Levels....

Greg had decided that a useful bonus to his dissertation would be a comparison with lake levels of the ice dammed lake at the end of the valley, as with those by the camp. 

Result? 5 hardy souls armed with theodolite (theodoheavy), pick axe., shovel, tripod and lunch, wander up the 8km or so to the col at the head of the valley.

View up the valley to our destination

Looking over the glacier towards the Vatnajokull ice cap

Three hours (and much weariness) later, we sat down to lunch. Greg set up the theodolite and looked at ONE lake level.

The we humped pick axe, and shovel to the highest un-snowed point of a mountain at the end. Greg wanted to climb down the other side and back again to examine sediments.

UNFORTUNATELY it was too steep to go down, and after Greg had taken 40 winks (at the expense of everyone else’s blood temperature)., we dent down again. As he would say himself – “it’s all good experience”.

View back down the valley to the camp and the coast

I forged on ahead managing to avoid the theodolite change-over and made my way back to camp.

By now my boots were actually dry!!! from walking after our midnight escapade so I barefooted it across the river to maintain it thus.

Dinner was probably runny or fish. I can’t quite remember.

Day Seven - Night Time Rescue!!

02:00 am in the morning.

Greg: “Quick, everyone get up! Two climbers went out at 10:30pm to recce for an abseiling location and haven’t returned yet so we’ll have to do a mountain search. Get warm clothes, a torch and a compass and whistle; a sleeping bag and bivvy bag between two."

Result? Major panic and everyone (plus the Survey bunch) down by geomorph, ready and armed within half an hour (apart from Liz who had sprained her ankle) and rushed fully booted across the torrential river (see earlier) and up the mountain in groups of three or four having been given our instructions:
1.       Always have the person on your left in front of you
2.       Three short blows on whistle for temporary stop, one to restart and two long ones for an emergency

Well, we walked along and came across the first climber, Pat: aggressive and swearing and obviously in an ‘advanced state of hypothermia’. Four went back to base with him, and we continued on, spread down the hillside searching for the unfortunate climber.

Half way across a fairly impressive scree slope, Woody developed acute wind and I, being nearest, was selected to escort him back to camp. Woody, eager to find the climber (what a conversation piece!) eagerly awaited his discovery (having relieved himself by squatting and burping), but it seemed unlikely since we were treading on previously surveyed land.

However, just a little upstream from Life Science (at about 5.00am) I spotted a light blue object and a whistle blow confirmed our suspicions. Now it was all go! I dashed down to Life Science to find a radio (having been convinced that the whole lark was a fake due to the total lack of enthusiasm) and somehow managed to co-ordinate a reception between Alpha (the others), Lima (us at Life Science) and Base. I went to a vantage point where both approaching groups might be observed. Mark and John arrived with the stretcher (by which time I had forgotten the exact location of our victim) but a whistle blow soon guided us to the unfortunate (but none-the-less very beautiful) mountaineer.

Woody was exerting his influence in the art of First Aid, and Dave was doing his bit by simulated vomited, shivering and various other stages of advanced hypothermia, which had to be treated by us non-experienced wallies, although we were omitted the pleasure of the ‘two-nudes-in-a-sleeping-bag’ trick. We finally strapped him in and, with me in lead with the radio (having been called a “garbled female in a state of hypertension”), the procession led down to the river, whereupon Dave decided he didn’t want to get wet, and left the stretcher. Nick’s mouth hit the floor, having not as yet appreciated the little joke. The stretcher party (having now crossed the river six times) reached geomorph camp, inspected what was left of our feet, let down Ian and Greg’s tent (Nick and John) and went to sleep.

No early morning (afternoon) tea was provided by the leaders as they were otherwise engaged, but brunch was underway at least by 12:00, and little groups set off for their various tasks of river mapping, levelling, plane tabling etc. as usual.

Came back in the evening from the braided stream to be accosted by abseilers on the way. So I, armed with size eight welly boots and a vague fear of heights was pushed up a near vertical rock face for my first experience of prusiking. Needless to say, I did not shine. However a couple of minutes’ respite at the top and a loan of a pair of walking boots to replace wellies, I abseiled down quite successfully and managed up and down much better again.

Dinner and bed.

Day Five - Up on the Glacier

1. Long delay in food organisation, so we didn’t reach the glacier until 4.30pm.

2. The very heavily laden boat (Sean, John, Nick, Monty, Mairi, Greg, Mark and myself along with six heavy rucksacks). The motor cut and refused to start in the middle of a 0 degrees, five minutes before hypothermia (if you’re lucky) pro-glacial lake. After about 15 minutes of tedious rowing, the motor finally started and we landed on the landing stage and fitted crampons.

3. Mairi’s crampons refused to fit, so we had to radio back for a replacement packhorse – Sean.
4. Nick’s pack had a bad waist strap so we went back and changed with Mairi’s which had been left
5. Nick’s glasses fell down a crevasse and we had a twenty minute break whilst they were rescued
6. Various crampons fell off (including mine!)
7. I fell down – luckily not down a crevasse


Finally at about 5:30pm we reached the medial moraine and the lower dump. Nick was exhausted so we left him there, with sleeping bag and bivvy bag and the party, Mark, John, Sean, myself and Greg carried on upward.

We reached half way from base dump to the met camp and had no news of the supposed arrival party coming down the glacier to meet us. John and Craig continued to met and stayed the night whilst us others went home.

The walk back was noted absence of surface water. Moulin holes, now still and full of water, made beautiful but quite terrifying sights, and slight greater care had to be taken to avoid the thinly frozen patches of ice concealing crevasses.


We finally reached the landing stage at 10:30, and though our initial ‘Ahoys’ went unnoticed, we finally saw the Land Rover move down toward the delta and the boat approach.

Home, and on dry land! My first day of ice-walking survived.

Days Three & Four - Surveying

27 July 1985

News overnight: glaciologists were stranded unfit for their arduous journey up the medial moraine, and the weather was wet.

Breakfast was later than usual due to meteorological conditions and their effect on the cold, wet, tired constitution, but at least by 11 (!) surveyors were surveying and levelling and as for the others......

What is cold, wet, boring , miserable and a jolly silly thing to do in the rain? Maybe wandering around in braided channels, sticking pegs into arbitrary positions and looking at them through thin slits and drawing wet lines on plastic paper might hint at the answer.

Plane table surveying!


You do the above about 10 times between each 2 control points (if you have enough flags!) until you have just about enough dots to join up constructing an approximate sketch (if it’s cold, wet, raining ......) and accurate diagram if you have the time, patience, weather and inclination (see map of India).










Indian clinometer (used to find points) actually called an alidade.
You bung it on a calibrated sheet with
(i) Base line
(ii) Control points
(iii) Lots of pegs

Tomorrow we should finish off (if we haven’t been sent up the glacier!) and all for the sake of an ‘A’ level geography project; yet no doubt, and ‘A’ level geography project par excellence!

And Bob’s your uncle?

Corned beef hash (i.e. corned beef and baked beans) for dinner. Yum! Then a ‘pat’ of semolina and a ‘cup’ of chocolate custard. Even yummier!

The gamblers (John, Liz and myself) were out after dinner, getting down to a raucous game of pontoon (the others, not leaders, were TRYING to sleep) which really separated the men from the boys. John and Liz were swept right off the table with a confident clean sweep.

28 July 1985

10:00am
Liz, John and myself were off to the river to go surveying with alidade (home-made cos surveyors had run off with the other ones) and Abney Levels. Woody was up on the ice, though only by a near miss was he not surveying! The others are on the terraces. It is not YET raining.

4:30pm
It is still not raining.

Having completed the empirical content of the surveying i.e. plotting the plan, John has gone to complete the sketching whilst Liz and I take welcome relief behind the basalt columns.

The day has been yet uneventful (although a VW combi full of reindeer shooting Icelanders has just driven across our horizon). 3:30pm heralded the arrival of Ian Galbraith and Ray Ward – carefully un-timed to miss a drowning session by John and Liz of each other.

The water had fallen since yesterday and has subsequently risen, but since we forgot to record the previous level, today’s measurement will be a little superfluous (although an ‘estimate’ has been proposed). Not much good eh! Now time for Abney levelling. Fun God wot.

10:30pm
Andrew N has just discovered that his boots won’t fit crampons i.e. another member must go and relieve the starving meteorology and glaciologists by lugging huge amounts of food up the glacier.

After a lengthy conscience pricking session by Ian on the lack of sexual discrimination apparently present on the expedition Mairi and I dashed to base camp to fit our crampons, and finally made our way back home at 11:30pm, thoughts full of the day ahead.