From the Book “Shambles” by Stephen Tait – A True Story
Reproduced with the Kind Permission of the Strategic Book Publishing & Rights Agency – www.SBPRA.net
Names have been changed to match those in the official Journey Report by Steve Tait
Chapter 15 – Journey: Days 3 Onwards. Lie Up – Steve Tait
The wind did not lessen during the night between our second and third days of lie up. Both John and I had completed our increasingly quicker walks or crawls around the site to check the equipment. Tied onto a safety rope, we struggled in the wind against this moving but immovable object. We checked and rechecked that the lines of the tent were taught and that all the equipment housed outside was tied down and still there. It was a familiar procedure that was going to be carried out innumerable times during the next few days as our progress was to become increasingly frustrated by the severe weather.
Although the outside work only involved one of us at a time, everyone was disturbed during the hour or so leading up to departure as the thrust and shove of getting into protective clothing spread itself throughout the cramped tent interior. Outer clothing required the ability of a contortionist to get into, and the swivelling and stamping needed to get into the heavy insulated boots caused a major disturbance. The last things to put on were the goggles, and then the outer gloves, having made sure that someone was standing by to untie the tunnel exit of the tent.
A quick dive and crawl and the tunnel was closed quickly behind, allowing the minimum of hard blowing snow to gain entrance. Once outside, it usually took a few seconds to adjust to the violent change in conditions. Visibility was almost nil, and before getting into as near an upright position as the wind allowed, the process of checking the safety rope and adjusting harness position and hat position had to be carried out. The first breath was always a shock as the cold and the blowing snow poured into every opening, and even though our faces were covered with scarves, the fine white particles still found the gaps.
Return was worse as the process was reversed. Shouted commands from outside and inside would co-ordinate the opening of the tent for the minimum amount of time. In such horrific conditions, the inward dive would bring with it, especially for the occupants inside, more blowing snow, along with cold clothing and another severe drop in temperature.
John and I took up our regular daily positions at the bottom of the sleeping mattresses of the others. I sat at the bottom of Rob’s area, John at the bottom of Nige’s, and there we remained for the sixteen to eighteen hours of every day of our confinement. Rob made the journey outside only three times during the lie up, and Nige continued to remain cocooned in the confines of his sleeping bag for the duration. The immobility allowed us to save food and fuel, but during the times when cooking was not taking place, the temperatare would plummet, and John and I remained wrapped in our down jackets as there was not the room to lie in sleeping bags also. Besides, in the event of a quick exit being needed, we had to remain reasonably alert.
Meal times in the evening were an event we looked forward to throughout the day. Hunger pangs constantly reminded us that although we had plentiful supplies of food, dry sledging rations did not totally satisfy the psychological need we felt for a good meal. Rob had brought with him a large jar of dried onion flakes that we opened and dropped buttered sledging biscuits into. The biscuit was then reclaimed from the inside of the jar and the taste created huge delight as the onion flakes stuck to the butter and added a variance to our diet. However, the onion flakes were strictly rationed as the storm had surpassed our expectations of length already, and that was only the third day.
The hot drinks we could afford to prepare during the long days were infrequent but eagerly anticipated. We had plentiful supplies of tea, coffee, and cocoa, along with tins of dried milk and sugar, and in addition our few tins of condensed milk boosted our energy levels, but they were not in a neverending supply. In such a dry place it is vitally important to avoid dehydration by taking in regular fluids, but because we did not have much paraffin, melting the snow to make drinks was proving difficult.
Nige suffered the added problem of nicotine withdrawal as his dwindling cigarettes came to an abrupt end. Our experiments with tea leaves only allowed the feel of smoke being inhaled, and the revolting taste, even when dried herbs were added, only created greater problems.
John and I stood outside in the teeth of the howling storm in the lee of the tent with our backs hunched against the wind, and we walked ten yards or so down wind to drown out the chance of the others hearing what we had to say to each other. With our backs being pummelled by the massive force of blowing snow, with the ropes taught trying to turn us around, we stopped, and falling on to our knees we alternately leaned over to shout into each other’s ears our questions and answers. We must have appeared to any passersby that we were praying monk like to appease the gods for the weather. Both of us were concerned.
The food remained, although not in abundance, still quite plentiful and we knew we could get through on cold rations. We also knew that we had plentiful supplies of skidoo fuel, although I had jettisoned more than half of ours when I depoted the damaged skidoo days before. We knew we could run the stove on skidoo fuel, and therefore could easily last for a month before beginning to worry. However, we needed to avoid using the gasoline mix for the stoves, as it could be dangerous and the last thing we needed was a fire. The tent to the traveling party is the difference between life and death, and we could not afford to lose it. But the overall position was not too bad and we could certainly hold out for a few weeks to come.
John and I were more concerned with the morale of the others, who had begun to sink, by day four, into longer and longer periods of staring quietness as the severity of the wind, increasing at times, did little to dampen their fears. The radio schedules had revealed a continuing storm at the base all those miles away, and travel was definitely out of the question. Besides, disorientation in this weather meant travel would be impossible. Our maps and compasses had little benefit in such conditions without visible landmarks, particularly on motorised transport, as we had to move away from the metallic vehicles to take even the simplest reading with our magnetic compasses.
Both John and I had suffered from long lie ups in the past. John, a mountaineer of outstanding ability, had completed an ascent of the North Face of the Eiger and was prepared to sit it out in our current situation for as long as necessary. The discomfort of the lie up for both of us was simply something we had to endure and, in a perverse way, to enjoy. We both knew we could get through, but the condition of the others was deteriorating quickly as the combination of the severe cold, the immobility, lack of food, and the sound of the extreme blowing wind and snow depleted morale. I knew the blizzard would end sometime, but I was not sure if the two others in the tent realized that in the teeth of such fierce weather an end would eventually come.
We contemplated how best to keep spirits up and realized the best way was to simply keep everyone talking and happy. Nothing we could do would entice Nige from beneath the cover of his sleeping bag, and we would not even try; he felt at his most safe and comfortable in that position. But we could do more to encourage hard and entertaining argument and discussion.
Our conversation turned to our innermost feelings, and John said he had a bad feeling somewhere that the worst was yet to come. In the past when we had both been in extreme conditions, we had been with people of at least equal ability. In this situation we each had the others to consider and we had to constantly do things for them that they felt disinclined to do for themselves. As John and I were nearest the tunnel opening of the tent during the days, we had a constant supply of pee bottles to empty between the inner and outer skins of the tent, and although not a great chore, it began to get a bit galling in the extreme. Now the emphasis was swinging into that of “minders” but we were both determined to do whatever was necessary to keep the morale as high as we could. Neither Rob nor Nige had experienced a lie up of this length. That, combined with the increasing severity of the blizzard, was beginning to highlight the inadequacies of the training system that was meant to prepare base personnel for the rigours of the true Antarctic. Words are inadequate when trying to describe the noise of the wind and the violent impact against the sides of the tent. The movement of the tent can be frightening as a thin skin is all that stands between the occupants and catastrophe. Even though John and I had complete faith in the tent, we doubted the others did, and we continued to talk and shout at each other in our kneeling position as the wind occasionally pushed us together and apart.
When the storm worsened on day four, I thought the premonition of worse to come that John had had come true, but he did not acknowledge that this was the end of the difficulties. And as we huddled for greater warmth, we had to succumb to lighting the stove once again to prepare an additional meal to take minds off the impending disaster that could be brewing outside.
As the warmth from the stove increased the temperature in the tent, so spirits improved, and once again we fell into laughter and story telling. Although Rob had not moved to assist in the meal preparation, the warmth brought him from his cocoon like a re-emerging animal following hibernation, and he took over the menu and pulled our makeshift meal into another delight.
The bad feeling seemed to sneak in almost imperceptibly on that day. I suddenly felt a change in the mood for the worse of one of the party with the now unsmiling comments being made reflecting an increased fear and frustration. Both John and I discussed this later and felt we were being blamed for the weather, the diffculty of the cramped conditions, and the fact that we were traveling in these conditions when all others on the base were safe. Although equally dismissive of the undercurrent, we knew that we still had to get through and the weather outside suggested that it may not be for quite a while. In truth both John and I were enjoying the experience of this massive blizzard. We were both employed for this type of event and were experienced in this type of work. The others were not, and the faults in the system became apparent to an even greater extent.
Every year new personnel came into Antarctica to the numerous bases of different nationalities throughout the con-tinent. We had witnessed the inexperience of many of those personnel and we had heard of the inexperience of personnel at other locations. I questioned why anyone would want to spend a winter in Antarctica with limited or no survival experience. It was true that someone could spend the winter on base without leaving the safety and relative comforts of the insulated buildings, but once in the field, off base, the situation became vastly different and the dangers increased out of all proportion.
We were not explorers, we were simply traveling in Antarctica as a kind of holiday relief during the long winter months of isolation, but nonetheless, Antarctica is an untamed place. Two members of our party had severely limited experience of the fundamentals of survival and we survived the storm, which raged with increasing power, because we pulled together as a team. We understood and identified the limitations in our traveling party, made significant allowances for those limitations, and avoided increasing the level of danger in this incredibly dangerous place.
John and I, as a consequence of our discussions, increased our determination to get all of us through the storm. If we had to cajole, then we would cajole, if we had to bully, then we would bully, but we would all survive this storm. And we slept side by side in the little survival tent, both enjoying the screaming wind and both enjoying the company, and continuing to make the most of this outstanding experience we had been thrust into.
Our renewed vigour during the next day kept the conversation going for most of the long hours. We caused arguments with outrageous comments, and as we knew everyone in the tent we played on each other’s foibles. Nigel had told me that I was from a privileged background. I had been to college from the age of eighteen when he had struggled through an apprenticeship. I did not have a trade as he did and I could not repair a broken Sno-cat engine.
John had similar criticism reigned upon him as he had also had a perceived privileged upbringing, going to college and spending time in the Alps pursuing his dream of climbing mountains.
Worse was to come when Nige discovered that I had hitchhiked most of my way around Africa, totally dependent, in his opinion, upon the good will of others to satisfy my desire to travel, and avoiding paying fares for my extended journey. We laughed hilariously as we came in for this heaped criticism, and the more personal the comments became, the more we revelled in the atmosphere. But the heat of the language did little, in reality, to warm the inside of the tent.
Spirits were further uplifted when Rob shouted and abused our stupidity at wanting to climb mountains for a reason that completely escaped him. But he talked with great emotion of his life and his loves and the future, and Nige contributed with his stories of his beloved home life in the small village in which he lived. As the weather continued in its powerful display of temper outside, we countered it with our fervor and noise inside.
But with the awakening of each day, the hilarity of the last was lost, and the mood at first light reflected the anger of the storm that still blew its heart out in the cold Antarctic air. The despondency caused by the continuing bad weather hit our companions like a sledge hammer each morning as they contemplated yet another twenty-four hours of confinement without decent food, warmth, or even the chance of cleaning their teeth. The atmosphere in the tent was not changing, as opening the tunnel entrance was impossible for any longer than it took to let John and me in or out, and the heavy insulation was trapping the fetid air inside.
As time passed things were beginning to get more desperate. It was difficult to bring everyone out of the ennui that had swallowed us. Even though the daylight was with us during the day, there was not enough to read by as the low cloud and blowing snow dimmed the sun, and the headtorch batteries and lamp fuel were too precious to waste. We escaped into our own worlds and with our own thoughts, and by the morning of the last day when only John was called to say a hot drink was ready by Joe, I knew we were on the downward slope and moving faster and faster in the direction of the bottom. I knew at that moment that the relationship between Rob and I had broken down. He was telling me, by not speaking to me, that I was to blame for his discomfort and his pain of not knowing what the outcome was going to be. It cut into me like a knife. I had not looked after him as I should have and his depression was turning to hate.
I had tried to train Rob over the months in the technical aspects of traveling, but I had failed to prepare him for the horrors of sheltering in a tent for long periods of time, not knowing whether the outcome would be life or death. Also, I had not prepared him for those things that can suddenly go wrong on a journey like this, such as a broken down vehicle or frostbite. There was nothing I could do in this situation as emotions can run riot, and although I understood how he felt, we had to make it back to base. If Rob was unhappy he would have to put up with it until we were safe. We would have to sort it out when we got back to base. There was nothing more we could do, except sit it out and pray for an early release from our entrapment. As the temperature outside remained constant at about minus twenty-five degrees centigrade, we would have to wait. It was too cold to escape from the tent for longer than a few minutes, as the wind chill dropped the temperature to, at the very least, minus forty. So the freedom with no escape continued.
Our diet had become tedious in the extreme, with a hot drink first thing in the morning, and some sledging biscuits with butter and jam. The biscuit, although nutritious, was rock hard and easier to take when dunked in the hot tea, and we took our time relishing the taste of the sweet drink while swallowing every morsel of the food. At lunchtime we could now only eat cold food, as we rationed the paraffin, but the evening meal was welcomed with the roar of the primus and steaming fluids as we prepared the now intolerable dehydrated meat stew.
Soon after five in the evening we looked at each other in bewilderment and relief as the noise of the wind suddenly stopped as with the flick of a switch. One minute the storm lashed us with its immeasurable fury, and the next it gave up and all went quiet. We were lying awake in the dimness of the early evening of the sixth day of our confinement when the silence shattered my thoughts. John was dozing but he was awake in an instant. Hurried dressing was soon followed by a quick exit from the tent and we were standing in the maelstrom of disaster of blown snow and scattered equipment that greeted us that day.
The crevasse probe used for the radio aerial, standing in the lee of the main tent, was buried up to within the top six inches. Four feet of snow had been dumped onto the safe side, the side out of the wind, of our main tent. The visibility began to improve as weather lifted, and we could see the outline of the mountains in the near distance as we walked carefully around trying to locate everything we could without tripping over it just under the surface of the snow.
Every particle of snow was hard and packed and looked good for travel; however, the blizzard had packed the snow so tightly around our equipment and vehicles it was going to prove to be a long and painstaking process to move it. So we loosened our clothing as the temperature began to rise alarmingly and took up our shovels to start the task.
Steve Tait