Museum Rooms Camping & Survival

No 1 Has to be don’t fall fully clothed with all your Arctic clothing on in -40c into the swimming pool (we had just built to start the North Pole swimming Club, at Ice Camp Barneo), trying to retrieve your mobile phone you had just dropped in. And Number 2 has to be and don’t piss yourself laughing at the poor unfortunate sod who did and then nearly fall in yourself helping them out. Just saying.

We did of course get him sorted out into the warmth and into some dry clothing.

Seriously though it is all about heat and energy management, and of course not leaving it until it is too late to ask for help, and Polar adventure is littered with the dead and maimed from those who tried to tough it through.

Bring out the inner whimp in yourself and know when to quit - If that is an option. Sometimes it isn’t and you have no choice bit to plough on.

Knowing when to quit is essential and equally if not more important is knowing when not to start in the first place!

This is a classic story of making a bad decision which leads to an ever descending spiral of incidents which could have turned out disastrously; not be be over dramatic about it.

In chess terms this is called Zugzwang when ever subsequent move is makes the situation worse.

Part 1

We had planed a winter assault on Skafell Pike 978 metres, 3,209 ft and I had picked out a challenging route to the summit. It wasn’t a mountain we had very been up before, but we were mountain fit and experienced with dozens of hikes, mountaineering and indoor climbing skills, as well as formal training, so whilst not underestimating the challenge it was well within our capabilities.

We took the Landrover up at stupid o’clock in the morning and arrived early, we parked up opposite a pub, and I started getting kitted up.

“Come on mate” I said to my buddy ‘lets get going, we haven’t got up at 2.30am to sit in bloody a car park.’ It was snowing heavily now and a wind was picking up, it was very exciting and I was keen to go.

“I’m not going” he said “ I feel dog rough.” and he looked it too, a bright red hooter, with snot running out and a lovely grey complexion. He sweating up.

“You look rough” I said, “Thanks I feel it, I’ll stay and have a sleep - you go and play.” he mumbled and then closed his eyes.

In truth I was mightily pissed off, we had been planning this for months, and now he calling off for a little cold! He was already snoring in a deep sleep, by the time i slung my backpack on and stomped off - this was my first stop point - I should have just stopped - I didn’t - anger and pride getting in the way.

If I had have stopped to think about it I probably wouldn’t have gone.

I crossed an ice and snow filled gully on route, and this was my second stop point - I should have turned back. I had a 36m 9mm rope, but by the time I got to the other side - a very high risk scramble - on sheet ice, I realised I would not be able to return by this route, even with a rope as there was nothing to belay off, and to climb down was too risky. The wind was starting to pick up and the snow was being driven directly into my face. It was hard going.

I summited, and had a brew, but it was only a tiny flask, but I did have a sandwich, which I ate. it was bitterly cold and was now blowing a near gale force wind, with driving snow - it was almost white out conditions, and I hadn't seen another person all day. I was starting to rapidly chill down and knew I had to get off the summit.

I checked my map and pulled out my compass to plot another route, but I realised quite quickly I couldn’t actually read it properly. My first thoughts were that I had gone snow blind. (which was nonsense of course). I rubbed my eyes to try to get better vision, it was like rubbing grit into them, but they cleared enough to plot a route off, but not enough to really study the topography.

I set the compass in a blurred way and then went to put away the map, when a gust of wind suddenly ripped the map out of my hands and it sailed into the sky, lost in the swirling melee of snow. At least I could follow a bearing. I put the compass safely in my pocket, where I could easily get to it.

The walk down wasn’t too hard, apart from the deep snow and driving wind which was tiring me out. The wind was predominantly blowing onto one side of my face, which was getting numb. I put a balaclava on. It was bitter, and my hands were getting cold despite a pair of gloves and over mitts.

My eyes were steadily getting worse and the white world was now turning a shade of grey, like someone had turned the lights down on a dimmer. I entered a dip and the snow was blowing less so I thought it would be a good time to check my bearings. It was gone. The compass wasn’t there. I did that whole check and check again. I must have slipped it outside the pocket rather than into it and in the deep snow and driving wind I would never have seen or heard it fall.

Ok* I said to myself don’t panic, go down - use the contours. I panicked, not full fledged, but enough to make me hurry up, I fell over, I picked myself up, I fell again and sprained something. Calm down I said to myself and I did. I had no map, no compass, my vision was fading, a sprained leg / bum, where I done that splits thing you do when you slip, and I had no idea of the terrain.

*I omitted what I really said which was expletive ladened but I will leave that to your imagination.

Ok I thought what are your assets. No 1 mind set - I will survive. I have a body bag (sorry survival bag), warm winter clothing and water / wind proofs, a rope, a mouthful of lukewarm coffee, water, and two Mars Bars.

I ate one of the mars bars….now one mars bar. I also had a head torch, a survival signal strobe, a whistle, a single walking pole, and someone who knew where I had gone, and when I was due back. I also had a watch.

At the moment I was going down and that is all that mattered. It was one hour till dust, and I was already a hour overdue - maybe help was on its way?

I was staring to move more slowly and with a limp. My energy levels had dropped and the snow was thicker the further down I got, but the wind had dropped a bit and less snow was falling. Every thing. was now grey, my eyes were so sore, I tried not to rub them, but didn’t succeed. I fell into drift, then another, and I just lay there.

I was whimpering by this point and it was now dusk, my thoughts we’re turning to snow drift snow cave and a night on the mountains, it would be fine I kept telling myself, stick the strobe (you can see it for miles) on the walking pole and someone will find you. I was getting seriously worried about my vision.

I climbed a wire fence and got snagged on the barbed wire. I let out a mini whoop of joy; wire fence, barbed wire = people. I struggled on with renewed vigour, I put my head torch on, not that I needed it, the snow gave good light, but if anyone was looking for me they would see it.

No one was looking for me - unbeknown to me my mate was still fast asleep, dead to world in a feverish state. I walked on.

Part 2

I could smell and hear the rush of water, but couldn’t see it until I was almost on top of it, the river was in full spate, it was inky black. I could make out lights in the distance and what looked like a phone box!

Crazy decision - I was all in - exhausted, cold and getting to that point of not caring. I went up and down the bank trying to find a crossing point there wasn’t one. I made a descion to cross the river. I prodded at the water to try to gauge the depth but the current was so strong it nearly took the pole out of my hands.

It was way beyond safe crossing depth, even with a pole. I made a decsion to cross with my boots on and waterproofs on - stuff it. I got in at a slackish point and put my pole to steady myself It was already way over my knees, the supposed do not exceed level, but I had crossed dozens of rivers before. It was dark now and the dark water noisy and scary. I was fully committed, I was soaking wet and the night in the snow cave was no longer an option. I ploughed on.

At midway point the water was almost splashing up to my waste and I was struggling to stay upright. I shuffled little steps, taking a diagonal route, it was hard going, I lost my footing and stumbled a few times, putting my hands out to steady myself my gloves were now also wet, and the water was icy - I was all in.

I don’t remember from this point to standing in phone booth or how I got there, or out the river, I must have been on auto pilot, I was shivering - which was good, at least I was generating heat. It was gently snowing. With the aid of my head torch I could just about make out the dial. I called my mates wife reverse charges, I could her here asking who it was, eventually she accepted the charges, and I explained I needed pick up. I gave her the number on the phone box and then nothing.

The houses I thought I had seen had gone. I sat on my pack in the box which smelled of wee. I drifted into a semi comatose state. I had no idea of the elapsed time.

“You look bloody awful” said my mate. What happened. “I think I’ve gone snow blind*” I said - I can’t see.

*Snow Blindness is caused by high HV usually in the Polar regions.

I have never been so grateful to hear from someone. Apparently my mates wife, had called the pub, and the pub seeing there was a White Landrover outside has gone and tapped on the window.. My mate had asked for phone boxes, assuming I was somewhere local. and I was at the first one the pub sent him to.

Somehow in all the drama I had navigated, probably more luck than judgment off the summit and almost back to the carpark.

I stripped all the wet stuff off and sat in the Land rover, whilst `I was driven to Westmorland hospital to sort my “snow blindness” out and a check up. The snow blindness, which turned out to be a severe case of conjunctivitis, with my eyes full of yellow pus, probably caught from my mate, and exacerbated by the wind and snow, and within 45 minutes of getting some drops and having load of gunk wiped out I could see again. it was such a relief.

I ended up driving the five and half hours home*, as my mate “died” on the back seat. I was so lucky, and also not, I had just enough kit, food and drink to get me through, and enough knowledge to get myself down a different route. But I was also so stupid to start with and things could have panned out a whole lot worse. The river crossing was I admit a desperation move and, I was out of control at this point. There was actually a crossing a mile or so up the road, but without the map I could not have known that. Had I have been able to see better and without that anxiety I might have made better decisions?

*This is an example of staying in control, I was done for, or so I thought which led to poor decision making, yet in reality I had loads more left in the tank, or I wouldn’t have been able to drive five and half hours.

A short rest and my body and brain had recovered. I guess ultimately I stayed in control enough to get by, and navigate home, but in reality I should never have set off to start with.

I remembered eating that last Mars Bar, on the drive back, it tasted like Heaven! He was still snoring in the back oblivious to the world. I also owe a big debt of gratitude to my mates enterprising wife and her quick thinking - so thank you.

Having stepped out the tent in the early hours of the morning - middle of the night in freezing cold - ice and snow everywhere - carefully avoiding the “singing” Weddell seal which had hauled out just outside the tent. It was singing a hauntingly beautiful song, which went on most of the night - I can see why people believe in Mermaids. Anyway back to the story, I went down to the “beach” to take a leak. Suddenly there was a crack like a rifle shot and with that all the penguins started to leg it up the beach as fast as their little legs would carry them. I wasn’t sure what was going on, but figured if it was good enough for them, then it was good enough for me - so we all went to high ground, and stood around waiting. Without any further warning what I can only describe as a mini tsunami swept in and had I still been on the beach - I would almost certainly have been swept out to sea and probably never been seen of again. It took me a few moments to realise that the Glacier had calved off a huge chunk of ice, and that was now bobbing about in the bay. So I would like to say a big thank you to Mr and Mrs Adelie and friends - you “saved my life.” There was also an element of “Karma” with my Oates quote as I left the tent. You should never tempt fate particularly in the Antarctic, when you are one step away from it going wrong. I was as it happened nearly was “gone some time.” Permanently! In honour of Captain Lawrence Edward Grace "Titus" Oates, officer and gentleman.