Antarctica 2005 Expedition
This is not Disneyland!

This is not Disneyland! While this trip was an absolutely spectacular adventure, it was not without its excitement in terms of physical danger.

During the morning, while we were diving, a landing team became stranded as pack ice closed in around them, preventing zodiac access back to the boat. While not necessarily dangerous, it did take two hours of attempted "rescue" until it actually became necessary for the Polar Pioneer itself to plow through the ice and nudge an iceberg out of the way, thus clearing a path for the zodiacs.

During the evening of Monday, 21 February 2005, as the climbing team was descending from a climb of a nearby mountain, a more serious emergency developed. One of the climbers (Ken Joseph), fell into a crevasse and had to be rescued. This was a lengthy operation and, from the Polar Pioneer, we all gathered on the bridge and waited with baited breath and nervous anticipation to hear news from the team. It was a very tense period – until the radio crackled with the reassuring words "No Worries." A cheer went up and a collective sigh of relief was exhaled. The climbing team arrived back on board at 10:45 pm, nearly 3 hours overdue.

Below is Ken Joseph's hair raising story...

---

Touching The Void … In Antarctica
By Ken Joseph

It had been a perfect day. A bright sunny day, with a clear sky and no wind. Antarctica was a true paradise. Our three climbing teams had been enjoying the views from a 300-metre peak on Duchaylard Island. The climb up had been relatively easy, with only a steep slope and deep snow in the final ascent being difficult, but we were rewarded with a magnificent view back over the island and across the bay. Going back down was a little more difficult, with slow progress and a number of adrenaline-raising falls but everyone was fine, if a little tired. At the end of the steep slope we stopped for a photo of a spectacular sunset and then set off for home. Our climbing group had Joe leading, followed by his wife Kathy, Gordy, myself, and Bob bringing up the rear. It was now getting dark and I was looking forward to dinner and a good night’s sleep. As we crested the last rise I could see the ship awaiting us with its lights on in the bay below.

We were on the final ridge before the last slope down to the water. Feeling very relaxed walking along the ridge, I still maintained the discipline of keeping the rope appropriately taut between Gordy and myself ahead of me. I was chatting with Cath who was on Kieran’s line walking alongside our line.

In the calm of the dusk, little did I think that my evening was going to change dramatically with just one step?

As I placed my foot directly into the footprint of those who had gone before, I felt no ground underfoot as it gave way beneath me. I saw just a blur of white and the sensation of falling as the ground swallowed me up. I seemed to fall into the bowels of the earth, until halted by a jerk.  The rope had held. A bit dazed, I checked myself out … I felt no pain, there was no blood and everything was working OK, but where was I? I looked around but it was very hard to see as it was dark and my glasses were covered in snow.

I had fallen into a crevasse...

As Robert Falcon Scott wrote "The crevasse is nature’s pitfall – that grim trap for the unwary – no hunter could conceal his snare so perfectly – the light rippled snow giving no hint or sign of the hidden danger, its position unguessable till man or beast is floundering, clawing and struggling for a foothold on the brink".

But I was not floundering, clawing or struggling, I was just hanging horizontally in the semi darkness, held only by the rope and my harness some four to five meters into the crevasse. I reached out my left arm but felt nothing. I felt to my right and there was a wall within reach but as I struck it with my ice pick, it was like hitting a chandelier as pieces broke off and rained like glass, tinkling as they fell. And fell to where? I looked down but saw only darkness. I didn’t look there again! As I wiped some snow from my glasses and my eyes become accustomed to the dark, I looked up and could see the light of my entry hole, but the rope had cut into the ice on the surface so now I was a meter downhill of the hole. I was in a long crevasse that ran along the route we had been walking. I had fallen into the uphill end but the cavern extended many meters along our path. The others had been lucky.

I now knew I wasn't hurt and where I was, so I yelled out to the surface that I was OK but got no response. I yelled many times but heard nothing. Then the silence overcame me and I assessed my situation. The rope was holding so my climbing partners had responded quickly, pinning themselves to the ground with their ice axes and were holding me. My harness felt tight and secure, so I wasn't in danger of slipping out of it. I didn’t know what was happening on the surface, but I obviously wasn’t going to be pulled out quickly, and I started to get a bit anxious. It reminded me of the situation in the movie Touching the Void, but that climber had a broken leg, no rope holding him, and no friends on the surface to help him out. I was in a much better situation so that cheered me up. I spun around so that my crampons were against the "glass wall", but they couldn’t get a grip, just showering more glass, so I thought the best option was just to hang and wait. 

After what felt like ages, Bob showed his head at the entrance hole, asked how I was, said they were going to pull me out and explained something about me climbing over the edge of the hole. I think I told him I was OK and I didn’t care what I had to do, just get me out of here. I didn’t realize that Bob couldn’t see me and didn’t know exactly where I was. So they started pulling on the downhill rope. What a relief at being hoisted upwards away from the darkness below, my feet bouncing off the glass wall. But as I was raised, I was being pulled to the left side of the crevasse away from the glass wall, so I spun around to the left and found a narrow, sloping, stepped ledge. I was able to get one foot on it, but as I was raised higher, the rope was further cutting into the ice above and I was being dragged along the crevasse, until I was pinned under the ice at the roof of the crevasse, yelling for them to stop pulling. Although I heard nothing, the pulling stopped and the rope slackened a little so that I now had one foot on the narrow ledge, and my body was suspended below the ledge. I tried gripping the ledge with my ice axe to keep my head up, but this quickly became tiring. I still couldn’t reach both walls at once to get into a chimney stance, and the left wall fell away below the ledge, so I just lay there, one foot on the ledge for assurance, suspended semi-backwards under the ice. I yelled to the surface to pull on the uphill rope but got no response. I was now getting a bit worried that getting out of here wasn’t going to be easy.

Soon Tashi arrived at the entrance hole and what a relief it was to see him. He appeared surprised that I was just only a meter or two below the surface, but I was a couple of meters along the cavern from the hole and in an awkward position. I told him that they needed to pull on the upper rope while easing the lower rope until I was under the hole. This they duly did, until I was positioned just under the hole, but because each rope was badly cut into the ice, another rope would be needed to pull me up. Tashi suggested I chimney up, but I couldn't get a good grip, my crampons scrambling on the glassy ice surface, and by this time I was very, very tired. So Tashi returned with another rope that I passed through my harness and I was hauled upwards until my head was above the surface … so beautiful to see the world again, the now darkened sky, the fresh air and joyous faces of my rescuers. Readying all my remaining strength, and with Tashi's assistance, I made one last effort and was pulled clear from the void. I had been under the ground for about 40 minutes.

Antarctica is a place of awesome beauty that truly overwhelms our senses, but in this beauty hides inherent dangers. From enjoying a relaxing end to a perfect day, to being in a life-threatening situation with just one step, this crevasse experience has taught me that, no matter how beautiful or innocent Antarctica appears, you should always expect the unexpected.

Pictures Courtesy: Aurora Expeditions
Excerpt from the Antarctica Log - February 2005

Any questions not addressed in the above pages or in this website, should be
forwarded by email to Technical Support.