Antarctica Part 3: The Crevasse

Antarctica Part 3: The Crevasse-

If you’re up to date on this page you’ll remember at the end of part 1 we had a safety briefing on board. Required from a liability standpoint, but the reality of any part of it coming into play was minuscule. Since I brought along a bottle of champagne, that I planned on popping open on land in celebration, I was closely paying attention to what was said about this. They went through the laundry list of what is not allowed on shore; no food, no smoking, no urinating, no taking rocks, feathers or anything else from the land as a souvenir, no yelling, no crossing in front of or otherwise disturbing wildlife. You are only allowed to come within 15 feet of a penguin, however if you sit quietly they may approach you at their discretion, of course don’t walk ahead of the guide and stay to the marked route etc etc. Because I was purposely listening for it, I’m positive there was no SPECIFIC mention of not bringing alcohol and/or glass bottles on shore I convinced myself I had the green light. The whole- it’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission sort of thing. On day 5 we would be, for the first time, stepping foot on the Antarctica continent. I boarded the Zodiac (little ship to shore Navy Seals looking boat) with my Wolf Pack crew, champagne in tow. We walked the marked route up over a ridge and found a little quite spot where we had a little privacy. The Champagne was popped and we celebrated with hugs, chugs, high fives and photos. We soon realized our private little spot wasn’t private at all. It was too late to hide the bottle so I began to offer it to passersby. Every person was thrilled to see the champagne and our group of 7 became about 20, some of which I hadn’t even seen before on board, let alone talked to, but all of us enjoying the moment together. As the bottle was finished I wrapped it around the towels I brought and safely secured it back into my backpack. Celebration complete and a job well done. A handful of us stay back to soak in the views while the bulk of the crowd continued up the ridge. We allow the group to disperse ahead of us and strolled along at a leisurely pace.

About 10 minutes later we hear shouting in distance. Someone is in clear violation of this no yelling rule, I think to myself. Who am I to judge though, I just brought a bottle of champagne on shore. We walk a little further and the yelling that persisted we could make out to be a cry for help. About 100 yards from our position someone had neglected to stay to the flagged route. You can make out a single set of footprints leading directly into a hole. Everyone’s worst fear had been realized. This wasn’t peeing on a hill or pocketing a few souvenir rocks. One of the passengers had fallen into a 20 foot crevasse.

We hold our position and don’t approach. We have no idea how safe it is, nor do we want to create unneeded congestion around the area. We turn behind us and relay the cry for help down the ridge. Ahead of the hole they relay it to the summit, where as a matter of coincidence, Phil, one of the expedition leaders, is giving rescue lessons to another staff member. With harnesses on they are anchored into the mountain with ice screws and repelling down a separate crevasse when the call gets to them. Because of that it takes what seems like forever for them to respond to the scene. At this point 2 things come to mind. First the obvious and most important. I hope whoever the person is is not injured, or worse. The second thing that dawned on me is that I just got done handing out alcohol to about 20 different people. I prayed to God this wasn’t one of them. Still holding our position a few people start walking down the hill towards us. A girl, I recognized from the ship, but hadn’t previously spoken to, walks directly up to me, out of our group of 5, and says “They want everyone to leave the area, except for 5 or 6 strong guys who will be needed for the rescue. I think they need you to stay.” I impulsively bowed my chest, proud in the fact she came right up to me for help and not only that, but she was cute, very cute. I felt like I had a job to do. “No problem” was my simple response and with shoulders back and head high I made my way up the ridge to the crevasse. As my small group and I approach another female member of the staff sees us nearing and yells at us to return to the ship. Confused by the mixed message I yell out “Do you need help!?” She looks back with a pause and says, “Yes! You stay, everyone else go back!” Of course “5 or 6 strong men” becomes 8-10 strong men, a few hardy women, and 4 or 5 lookyloos that just refused to heed the staffs directives.

I reach the site at about the same time the rescue party makes their way down from the summit. By the time anybody discovers what happened an estimated 30 minutes had already gone by, add on an additional 10 for the rescue team to arrive. If you’ve fallen into a crevasse in Antarctica and there is one person you can have there on the rescue team, it’s the exact person that just happened to be there as a member of our expedition staff, Phil Wickens. A geologist by trade his credentials read numerous backcountry skiing and climbing expeditions to Antarctica, Tibet, India, Pakistan, Nepal, Peru, Greenland, The Caucasus and Canada. This was his 18th year operating in polar regions, had 5 seasons with the British Antarctic Survey, was previously Vice President of the Alpine Club and leader of the highly successful Alpine Club Antartica Expeditions. In the last 4 years he’s made the first ascents of over 30 previously unclimbed Antarctic mountains. Needless to say this lonely soul wedged in ice 20 feet into the earth was in good hands.

Other members of the expedition team were on hand taking direction from Phil and everyone with the highest level of professionalism. 6 of us passengers were put in place and grabbed a piece of the rope. I was in the first position, meaning the most precarious position nearest to the crevasse. After anchors were set we began lowering Phil down the hole, which was just about the width of 1 adult male. Because the hole was too narrow to secure a proper harness on the guy, Phil had to back out and go in head first to tie a rig around his shoulders. By now we know this guy to be the Russian on board who’s staying in the penthouse suite, at a cost of nearly 10 times what I paid, he has half of the top floor. This particular individual has already made it clear that he believes the rules don’t apply to him. He’s gone off trail and disregarded the route on the first stop, Half Moon Island, and, again, at the second stop he walked ahead of Phil, who was leading the group on a hike around the volcanic caldera of Deception Bay. Thankfully he was NOT one of the people to stop for some champagne. I was off the hook for having any contributing factor to the accident, this mans well being, however, was still in doubt.

Somehow after securing the shoulder harness Phil manages to squeeze his way around and underneath the Russian. He was able to hoist him up enough to give him a footrest on top of his his head, or actually face, we would later find out. The team on the rope would pull when directed and eventually when the Russian got close enough to the top we could hear him crying out “the rope! It’s killing me! I can’t breathe!!” We attempt to give the rope slack, but there was a malfunction in the pulley system preventing us from doing so. We fumble around frantically trying to loosen the kink. Thankfully a passenger who was positioned to stand on one of the anchors worked for the Australian Fire and Rescue Team and was able to free up one of the ropes enough to fix the jam in the pulley. With all lines functioning properly we were back in business. A few more heave ho’s from the team and this dumb son of a bitch Russian was back on solid ground with only a small cut on his face to show for it.

After everyone is out of harms way I say to my roommate, Michael, in an attempt to lighten the mood; “Um, so that was kind of awesome… Is it fucked up to say out loud that, I’m glad it happened, or should I just keep that to myself?” He chuckles it off. After we are all back on the ship and lunch had been served I find myself walking next to the Russian on one of the ships narrow walkways. To break the awkward silence I ask how he’s feeling. He replies in his thick Russian accent “mush bitter nau”. To which I say “well at least you’re the most popular guy on the ship now”- “jah, boot I voud trade dis in for a biers every day”.

Later I come across our expedition leader, Shane, and ask how many times he’s had that happen, to which he commented; “I’ve lead somewhere between 180 and 200 tours over a 20 year career. That’s the second time it’s happened, the first time was 19 years ago.” There was a briefing that evening, mandatory for all passengers, reiterating the importance of listening to the staff for safety reasons. Following the briefing they asked for anybody directly involved, or that was on scene, who may be emotionally distraught over it, that wanted to hang back and talk about what happened to do so. To my surprise many people were still broken up over it and did stay back. I was not one of them, but my roommate Michael was. I got a clear answer to the earlier question I posed and realized that, yes, perhaps it’s best that the fact I was “glad” the whole thing occurred was better to be kept to myself from then on.

Bob