Treading on Thin Ice (continued)
About three miles out the older snow-covered ice came to an abrupt end. Ahead lay a frozen lead of shiny black ice that appeared to be about a foot thick. It was probably no more than two hundred yards to where the ice looked safe again, and I decided to continue. Up to this point the dogs had been behaving very well, listening to and acting on my commands but, as soon as we moved out onto the new very smooth surface, they no longer had any interest in what I had to say. Our pace quickened alarmingly, the dogs had almost certainly smelt the penguins on the islands and were anxious to be in among them.
All too rapidly it became clear that I had made a bad decision for I could now see open water only a few yards ahead. The ice we were travelling over had become frighteningly thin, probably not over an inch thickness and you could see the wave motion of the sea on the surface of the ice. As I screamed at my dogs to stop they must have sensed from the tone of my voice and the strange movement of the ice that all was not well. The dogs slowed down but they would neither stop nor swing around away from the open water. I did not dare use the brake for fear of cutting through the ice. At the waters edge the dogs came to rest, those at the rear of the team sliding into those at the front, almost nudging them into the water. At the same time numerous threatening growls could be heard, fortunately even the dogs most prone to enjoying a fight realised that this was not the time or place for a fight.
I went cautiously forward towards Sue my leader who was standing perilously near to open water. Sliding my feet over the glassy surface and holding onto the line that connected the dogs together I inched my way towards her. On reaching the dogs at the front of the team I managed to swing them away from the water. Before I had a chance to make it back to the sledge the whole team took off heading for home. I made a frantic lunge for sledge as it passed and managed to hold on as the dogs pulled us away from danger. My companion who had been following with his team had stopped before reaching the smooth black ice and had watched my antics with interest on this potentially lethal skating rink. We followed our outward track back to base and as we looked back towards the Dion Islands we saw the wind picking up the surface snow and as we watched the thin ice on which we had been travelling started to break up leaving only the black bottomless sea.
This is a story we kept to ourselves for we had disobeyed all the rules but it shows how easily a trip of sheer delight could in a matter of minutes turn into disaster. Without the dogs prepared to run for home it could have been disastrous and indeed fatal.
Rick Atkinson, GA – Adelaide 1976, Rothera, 1977