Southern Patagonian Ice Cap

SOUTHERN PATAGONIAN ICE CAP 2009

Between 7th December and 28th December last year (2009) Cory Jones, Martin Akhurst and myself made a crossing of the Southern Patagonian ice cap between Ventisquero Jorge Montt and Paso Marconi by Monte Fitzroy.

My father reckoned that his crossing of the Southern Ice Cap was one of the toughest of all his many journeys. The icecap takes on the worst weather in the world outside the polar regions with a constant battering of massive wind and precipitation. On rereading sections of Land of Tempest I can report that weather conditions haven’t improved!

Having been following up a few of my father’s trips in the last few years I hadn’t really considered the ice cap, since mustering the necessary technical skills seemed out of my reach. However early in 2009 I got an email from Cory Jones who was inspired to redo my father’s route, that is from the Northern edge by the great Jorge Montt glacier to Estancia Christina by Lago Argentina in the south. Since Eric’s crossing with Marangunic, Garcia and Ewer in 1960/1 the North South crossing has been done six times but not following his route.

I tentatively asked Cory if he’d like to drag me along and he very kindly said I could join him and his group. Originally Jesse Marsden was hoping to by the first woman to do the traverse. She did a lot of research and ground work but unfortunately other commitments got in the way so we were three, the other member being Martin Akhurst . Both Martin and Cory had experience in Patagonia, Martin’s many climbing exploits including an ascent of Fitzroy. It was a great luxury to leave thinking and planning to Cory and Martin, and through last year they managed to acquire clothing, crampons and other bits of equipment from various kind sponsors and the three sledges we used. Vitally Martin got us sorted with the necessary permission for our trip from the Chilean authorities. The three of us met up in the summer for some rock climbing and, for me, much needed practice with rope work, as well as a couple of pints and, as we were near Leeds, a trip to Headingly for the first day England thrashing in the first day of the test. We met again in Shrewsbury in November to have a look at the plastic sledges we were going to use. Martin and Cory had decided against using either skis or snowshoes. All in all our preparations were very much in the “back of the envelope” Shipton/Tilman spirit.

The wonders of modern transport meant that five days after leaving our homes we were camped on a remote un-named lake west of the snout of Jorge Montt glacier that flows north from the ice cap.
The three of us had set off from the UK on various flights on December 2nd and met up the next day via Buenos Aires in Comodoro Rivadavia on the Patagonian Atlantic coast. In Buenos Aires Martin and I were met by Peter Bruchhausen an Argentinean who had been to the ice cap with Eric in 1960 and made the first ascent with him of Montes Bove and Francis in Tierra del Fuego with John Earle, an expedition beautifully illustrated on John’s film Mountains of Glass. Peter took me out to lunch in town regaling me with stories of my father. He was most concerned with our not taking snow shoes, an unwarranted concern in the light of our subsequent experience.

In the oil town of Comodoro Rivadavia we shopped for the bulk of our food supplies as there would be limited resources in our Chilean part of the journey. We were careful not to buy meat or fruit products which the Chilean customs would confiscate at the border. The next day we were on an early bus across the Patagonian desert, passed forests of nodding donkeys pumping oil, and by lunch we reached Los Antiguos on the border with the Andes ahead. The border crossing took some time so it was late afternoon by the time we were dumped with all our mountains of gear and food in Chile Chico in Chile. From here we had to make a several hundred kilometre journey south via Cochrane to Tortel on the Canal Baker, However the next bus to Cochrane left in four days time and transport to Tortel non-existent. Help was soon at hand as we found Luis Ventura who housed us in his hotel and we booked him and his 4 x 4 to take us all the way to Tortel for a reasonable sum. The drive south along Lago General Carrera was spectacular with the completely clear skies revealing the snow covered peaks to the north. The rain shadow maquis plants soon gave way to the, for me, familiar high rainfall vegetation of Chilean Patagonia dominated by Nothofagus forest. We reached reached Tortel by evening, an extraordinary place on its fjord off Canal Baker with the streets composed of walking platforms. The settlement was until recently only approached by sea, and based on the wholesale exploitation of fish and virgin forest particularly the once great stands of the valuable “ Cipres de la Guaitecas”, Pilgerodendron uviferum. Both are now heavily depleted and the town is now just beginning to turn its mind to tourism to exploit the fabulous country around. That evening we found Daniel and Emilia who agreed to take us across Canal Baker the following day.
In the morning we made our required visit to the Gendermaria armed with our document from the Chilean navy. The policeman duly noted our departure but I’m not sure he had a real understanding of our intentions and there was no mention of getting stamped out of Chile. Still we had done our dues to the authorities.

The weather was still spectacularly clear and calm for our crossing and by lunch we had landed on the southern shore to the east of Jorge Montt glacier at the Estancia Zoela of the Landeros family. Signor Landeros junior and his mates took us in another small boat to cut through the icebergs flowing out of the glacier. Landing at a tiny bay on the western side of the glacier we made a portage of a dinghy, outboard and all our gear to the unnamed lake. The boys then ferried us 5 km to its Northern shore, and left us to our task. It was with great satisfaction that we settled down in our first camp, indulging in our final boxes of Vino Tinto under a completely clear sky with a fabulous display of the Southern heavens. We were now entirely committed to the ice cap, out of communication with the rest of the world and the only way back to civilisation being a crossing of the huge ice sheet to the south.

The first task was to forge a route through the surrounding trackless bush onto the ice. Loaded with about 30 kg, half our gear and food, we headed off into the bush. Lower down some of this must be secondary growth since any “Cipres” had been probably been stripped years ago. Whatever the case we were soon tangling with the usual mixture of Chilean Patagonian shrubs dominated by the prickly ericaceous Gaulteria mucronata, Pernyetta species and Empetrum rubrum. Dotted all the way through the bush Embothrium coccineum the Chilean Firebush was in flower with scarlet Proteaceous blooms any British gardener would die for. As we got higher Nothofagus pumilio forest provided some relief until we gained a rocky, boggy ridge that led us onto glacial moraine and finally a camp site within striking distance of the glacier. It was exhausting work but the weather held good and we were even in danger of sunburn. Despite my heavy load I couldn’t help recording the bright red flowers Ourisia poeppigii growing in glacial steams, a beautiful plant not yet in cultivation in European gardens. Having gained the ridge we could see a much more plausible route back by a 2km long tarn flowing into our base camp lake. Dumping our loads we just had time to look over the great Jorge Montt glacier and see the huge ramp of snow and ice far to the south that marked the edge of the ice cap proper. Wading round the tarn we plunged back through the forest to our base.
The marvellous weather held for our second and final load to our first mountain camp. Avoiding a spectacular waterfall we had passed on the way down, we got heavily embroiled with our loads and sledges in more prickly ericaceous bush losing some of our fuel in the process. Finally regaining the tarn stream we lumped our loads up to and round the tarn and up to our moraine camp. My assessment of the rocks to get a picture of the bedrock that underlies the icecap was fairly perfunctory with all the work we had to do, and I could only glean that it is a massive jumble of metamorphics, all a product of the ongoing Andean uplift.
The next day we scrambled our loads onto the glacier and loaded them. The sledges, plastic moulds designed for tobogganing, and which Martin and Cory had found in a mail order catalogue on the internet, worked perfectly. They were big enough for our loads and had side handles for attaching bags which were ideal. Despite rough handling and encounters with rocks on the lower part of the glacier only one developed a few cracks at the end of the trip. Roping up, we started hauling them up Ventisquero Jorge Montt. The country was spectacular in the clear weather we experienced for the next few days. The glacier is heavily crevassed all the way from snout to the great ice fall 15 miles away, the rampart that marked the edge of the ice cap proper. A string of peaks line both sides, and four tributary glaciers tumble into it from both east and west. We were committed to the western side since any crossing below the ice fall looked extremely hazardous if not impossible. However this side was by far the better one to be on. By keeping to the edge we could avoid the worst of the crevassed region but there was a lot of zigzagging to do, and slow work. It took four days to reach the base of the great ice fall.
With the weather holding good we got in to a good rhythm setting up camp in Martin’s Norwegian design tent. He slept in the porch and so commanded the stove. During the day on the glacier we roped up and with my limited rope experience Cory and Martin took turns at leading with me in the middle. Our first night’s camping on ice were reasonably warm and we could melt snow in the plastic moulding of the sledges for our water supply. Approaching the ice fall the weather started to give. At first it produced a murky atmosphere and it started to get difficult finding a way through particularly crevassed areas. On the fourth day we reached the base of the ice fall and used the only feasible route up. This involved parking the sledges and carrying double loads up a steep ramp. Pitching a camp at just under 1000m we had a stunning view all the way down to Canal Baker and to roughly where we had started a week before.
The next day we had a taste of things to come as we woke up to a complete white out. Martin and Cory reckoned this to be a good excuse for a rest day. The cloud dissipated however in the afternoon and I made a foray 200m above us to get a view of our track onto the ice cap. The next day the windless white out had settled on us again, and it wasn’t until early afternoon that a little visibility started returning. Following my footprints from the previous day gave us a start, thereafter we walked with the compass either the leader concentrating on the needle or helped by the occasional glimpse the cloud allowed us. With the whole ice cap ahead of us we took a due south bearing. This led us passed the crevasses above the ice wall and, crossing another higher glacier coming in from the SSW, we went to the east of a dividing massif. A steady climb took us onto the shoulder of this massif and by evening having climbed to 1200m the ground levelled. The cloud cleared a little and looking back down the whole length of Jorge Montt we reckoned we had finally made it onto the ice cap.

In the morning a dense windless mist had settled again, but we set out pulling our loads due south in total white out. Having attained the ice cap the danger of crevasses was largely gone so we travelled without rope and could all take turns leading. The leader not only had to work new snow but also endure the barked commands of Left – Right from the guys behind adjusting our course. Although the leader had to work much harder making tracks in the snow, once they were made, the walking was quite comfortable and for the whole trip I think the absence of snow shoes was not an issue. The nature of the snow constantly changes, depending on the most recent snow dump and air temperature. Sometimes we walked on solid ice where huge winds had blown away all the snow. Skis would have been the other option although how well they would work whilst dragging our loads we have to discover on another trip, but carrying them up the glacier along with the sledges would have cost considerable effort.

It is always a strange feeling travelling without visibility especially in snow. Although the rational mind knows the compass is always correct one still has the eerie feeling of walking in huge circles. The world of constant whiteness has a mirage making effect. Phantom horizons appear and disappear and the imagination creates an imaginary world beyond the little circle available to the eyes.

At this point our GPS began to prove its worth as an invaluable navigation aid. Without any visual aids we would otherwise have no idea how far we had come and indeed whether we hadn’t just been travelling in circles! In fact that first white out day we had achieved a mere 3minutes of latitude southwards or about 6 km but much of it had been a slog uphill and we were now at nearly 1400m. Our compass work had been remarkably accurate which was gratifying. One always wonders how previous explorers such as my father managed without new technology such as GPS!

That night our first Patagonian storm blew up. I had visions throughout the night of our gear outside being swept way to oblivion but Martin’s tent held firm, pegged down with ice axes, poles and a variety of other hardware. This first onslaught of wind had the effect of blowing away the cloud and we emerged from an igloo like refuge at dawn to be greeted by awesome vistas of the ice cap. We could see clear to the ranges east and west that bounded the ice. Straight ahead was our first nunatak and we could see that we had stopped for the night just in time to avoid bumping into it. After two days of zero visibility it was a wonderful experience to wake up and see where we were, and what a wonderful place! In the morning a hard 200m pull up took us onto a ridge marking the northern rim of the ice cap and the ice shed of Jorge Montt. To the south was an enormous ice lake and we could just make out the great peak of Lautaro 40 miles away, the volcano at the heart of Hielo Sur which my father and companions witnessed erupting 50 years ago. Thoroughly elated we headed across this glorious landscape towards some nunataks, one of which I liked to name Emilia after the pretty girl we were with across Canal Baker, although Martin disapproved of naming anything on this pristine landscape so rarely troubled by the presence of human beings. In this huge country perspective and distance is very hard to gauge, and although we travelled towards Emilia for hours we never seemed to get closer. Late in the afternoon dark swirling murk rolled across the snow from the north and we quickly made a camp in the middle of this sea of snow.

That was the last we saw of the world for two days. Great winds brought in a complete white out again together with copious snow which half buried us. Navigating in a white out is one thing, but contending with blinding winds as well is another, so we had to turn in on ourselves. We had four books to share and a pack of cards as a diversion. I had also brought a little cribbage board so for two days we read, played cards and melted snow for our cordon bleu porridge, polenta and Smash diet. On the second day I awoke and caught a fleeting glimpse of Emilia and annoyed Martin and Cory by trying to rouse them from whatever dream world they were inhabiting. But the cloud and snow rolled in and we stayed put. Occasionally I felt a strong feeling of claustrophobia, and a presentiment that perhaps this was the default weather system of the ice cap here, and it was almost a relief to occasionally brave the wind and snow to perform bodily functions and clear some of the snow pressing in on the tent.

To our joy and relief the third day dawned with a cessation of the wind and glorious visibility. Struggling out of the tent we again had fantastic views across the ice field in sunshine, and we set to exhuming tent and gear from the snow with our priceless aluminium shovel. The freezing temperatures meant our feet didn’t sink into snow and made pulling sledges an effortless pleasure. Emilia glided by and on the other side of her we even got to toboggan down slopes. We contoured around a crevassed region and carried on due south. Early afternoon saw mist swallowing our horizons and we were back on the compass. We soon found ourselves pulling steeply up hill and changed course to the East a little. The visibility cleared at this point to reveal that we had been heading towards a huge nunatak really a small peak. The dark rock stood out in the mist and was a stunning sight with all its ledges draped in snow. Our more easterly bearing allowed us to toboggan down the slope of this peak. After a hasty lunch, the usual biscuit and salami flavoured with salted peanuts, the cloud rolled back and we were back to hauling on the compass. We soon seemed to be back on an inexorable upward pull and by early evening felt ready for tent and tea.

It had been a fabulous day and our GPS told us we had advanced a good 13 minutes of latitude south, nearly 20km. However that night the old wind and driving snow returned. Again we were trapped in the tent for the day with no visual concept of what the world looked like outside. Dawn broke and at least the wind had eased, so we dug ourselves out again and started pulling on the compass again. This time we hauled with a bearing of 130o magnetic (14o E deviation in this region) to try and get away from that upward slope which we suspected led towards the Lautaro massif. A nasty sticky powdery snow, with an inexorable upward slope, despite our new bearing, made things hard going The wind returned as well and by mid afternoon we were all getting exhausted . Cory had started getting deep cold, so we hurriedly pitched camp in the driving wind which was quite a struggle. The white out and wind continued the next day so we were trapped again for the day.
On the 23rd December we were determined to move whatever the conditions. Thankfully the wind had eased. After digging ourselves out, a process that took a good hour and half, we carried on hauling by the compass and then to our relief the cloud lifted a little and we finally got a view of our position. Our navigation had been perfect and we could see what looked like a pass dead on our bearing. The trick of perspective eventually showed the pass to be an illusion. Slowly the cloud lifted a little more revealing the great Lautaro above us to the south, and the “pass” to be an enormous gap between the mountain and the chain of smaller peaks to the east. By early afternoon Lautaro was almost entirely unveiled, an enormous several peaked mountain draped with ice and snow. From its general appearance one could perhaps see its volcanic nature, but with the weather so temperamental any attempt to approach it to get a rock sample would have been be a major effort and distraction from just making an ice cap crossing. I felt as elated as I have ever been in my life to be in this place. The thought of my father having walked passed here nearly fifty years ago and that so few people had ever been here since was a wonderful feeling. I was so enthused that pulling the sledge lost all its effort, and Martin wondered whether I had taken some sort of artificial stimulant as I got rather far ahead in the lead. We took a few moments to take pictures before continuing up a steady upward slope to the “pass”. In a few hours the weather rapidly closed in and we were forced to camp. How Lautaro was ever climbed is a wonder since one would have to be exceptionally lucky to be here in rare stable weather or wait perhaps fruitlessly for ages, as my father and his team had done.
Our camp that night was at 1500m and, as the weather showed that night, exposed to winds from all directions. They screamed at us from unexpected points of the compass and funnelled piles of snow into our porch where Martin was sleeping. On Christmas Eve morning Martin abandoned the porch and struggled into our inner tent with me and Cory. With our porch buried in snow conditions in the tent were distinctly uncomfortable, so despite the continuing winds we decided we simply had to move on. The packing up operation was the most difficult yet and it felt good just to start hauling again, by the compass as usual.
It was particularly strange weather. We actually had blue skies above us but the wind kicked up so much snow that it kept us down to the familiar zero vis. At least it was directly behind us and we started navigating almost entirely by wind direction as it coincided with our course. It was a relentless wind, even pausing for water and a bit of salami was hard work. By early evening it was my turn to start the feeling of cold creeping into my bones. By evening I was starting to get hypothermic. The wind showed no sign of abating so, reluctant to attempt a camp, we pushed on into late evening. By this time the lack of vision and cold started giving me mild hallucinations, and I imagined this Christmas Eve I was walking in a snow buried English landscape with the odd church knocking around. Eventually we all had to stop but in the screaming wind tent erection was frantic. A rip developed in the outer sheet, and since I could do little else I was commissioned to hold the rip together while the boys struggled to get the tent sorted. This seemed to take an eternity, after which we had to consider the rip I was holding. Getting out a needle and thread in these conditions was nonstarter, and duck tape wouldn’t stick with all the clinging snow. Martin rescued the situation with a piece of lateral thinking phenomenal in any conditions let alone 90mph winds on an ice cap. He used spent plastic fuel bottles and screwed the ripped fabric between bottle and cap. The outer porch was still uninhabitable so Martin squeezed in between me and Cory and we got warm and cosy with the wind outside.

With the tent ripped we realised that we had no choice now but to make our escape off the ice cap, and in one move, since we couldn’t risk another camp. In fact on some of our trapped days we had considered before the possibility of getting off by Fitzroy. After our progress passed Lautaro this notion had evaporated but with a ripped tent the decision was made for us. I calculated a 22km haul to a point on the map on the Marconi glacier, entirely feasible given half reasonable conditions.

Christmas day dawned. At least the wind had eased but there was still no visibility. We considered making our move late in the morning but were all rather unenthusiastic. I was just beginning to feel internal warmth returning and suffering finger frost nip so made the casting vote for waiting a day. Besides I had some tiny Christmas gifts to unwrap from my daughters, and Cory produced a card and little cakes from his girlfriend, so we spent the day engrossed in cribbage and dreams.

Boxing Day was thankfully superbly kind to us. The wind had eased and we could see where we were. Gone were the churches, and snow bound holly. We were in a vast snow field bound to the south by a low mountain range which was what my father had dubbed Cordon Pio XI for some reason, but now marked as Cordon Gaea on one map. To the ESE was what turned out to be Cerro Marconi Norte, the end of Cordon Marconi that shields the Western side of the Fitzroy massif. Martin was convinced that this was a continuation of Cordon Pio XI and we had agreed to head on a more southerly 130o to avoid any impediments before turning East. I concurred, although I had noted what appeared to me to be the Marconi pass. I was almost convinced by Martin’s idea until the whole chain of mountains of the Marconi range opened out. We just had time to make the decision to head East before the cloud rolled in and we were back to the compass. After heading east for several hours the cloud cleared and we could see our pass off the ice cap and we knew we were on our way home.

We still had a lot of work to do, first a long haul up the giant snow slope that is the Paso Marconi and the Argentine border. At the top we had our last look back at the ice cap we had crossed, a sight which gave us wonderful feeling of achievement. It was great to start emerging into the outside world again and to be touching rock instead of ice and snow. Again there was scant time to ponder the geology and I only had time to note what seemed to be sedimentary but heavily metamorphosed strata, the rock lower including some granite.

The Marconi glacier soon appeared below us and we started tobogganing towards it. On the final slope the boys hurtled down on their sledges and disappeared from view. I was a bit more circumspect and gently landed on a granite platform. There was no sign of Cory or Martin and I was convinced they had disappeared into an abyss. Edging across the steep snow slope above the glacier I found them struggling back up waist high snow, Cory having landed a few feet from a drop. By the time we had all struggled back to my ledge evening was coming on so after a couple of hours vainly searching for an easy way down we elected to try the tent once more. The ice cap was not finished with us yet, and more blasts of wind roared down at us. I had to perform my role again of holding the rip while our battered tent was erected. The next day was calm again and we reconnoitred the area for a good way down to the glacier. Our explorations were a great pleasure, with spectacular views of Fitzroy and its accompanying spires with Lago Electrico below. The country beyond, free of ice and snow was a relief to our snow dazzled eyes. In the end we opted for negotiating the ramp the other two had nearly fallen down, and just as we were breaking camp a Japanese couple appeared, our first contact with people. Evidently we were now on a regular trekking route! The descent to the glacier caused no problems, and half way down we let our sledges and loads hurtle down to the bottom on their own. Across the glacier Martin disappeared down a crevasse but came to no harm. It was amazing we had crossed the ice cap with only one crevasse fall.
Reaching the terminal moraines of the glacier we had to start carrying all our gear. Although most of the food had gone the loads were fairly gigantic, rope, climbing gear, and tent, the loads can’t have been less than 35 kg. Martin was extra keen to make the Nothofagus forest below Lago Electrico to dry out and it was hard work keeping up with him. Despite the gruelling loads it was a fine walk beneath Fitzroy and around Lago Marconi and Lago Electrico. Overjoyed to come across living things again I had to record the flora we started coming across. The first spectacular plant was a stand of Naussavia magellenica on Lago Marconi , a spiky composite with great garden potential. On the way over to Lago Electricso Gaultheria and Escalonia shrubs were in flower, and lots of the scarlet Ourisia poeppigii we had seen in Chile. Beyond Lago Electrico the open ground was covered with the blue purple Lathyrus magellenicus. We caught up with Martin setting up camp in the first trees of the Nothofagus pumilio forest and we enjoyed our first night off the ice.
The next day we made the final march to the road head. Despite the heavy loads I was enchanted by the marvellous summer woodland flowers. Sheets of yellow Calceolaria biflora, and Viola magellenica greeted my plant starved eyes along with great stands of the white orchid Codonorchis lessonii and Anemone multifida. We carried our great loads to the new road that now connects Lago Desierto with the Chalten. Just down the road was the charming estancia La Pila and we clumped in to the elegant hosteria with our climbing boots and were furnished with a vehicle to Chalten.
Chalten has gone through a massive transformation since Cory was here five years ago. Tourism has created a sudden boom town and we were in a state of culture shock for several hours by the mass of people rushing around bent on the pleasures Monte Fitzory offers. That evening we were able to conclude our trip by a visit to the Gendarmeria to register our entry to Argentina. The policeman in charge was somewhat confused and started giving us exit stamps instead but our official entry was passed without demur which was a great relief. After a few days in Chalten taking in the marvellous country, still a pleasure despite the hordes swelled considerably by half the population of Israel, we went on our separate travels in Argentina.

We did have some regrets in having to cut short our traverse. Martin in particular had voiced his willingness to continue after tent repairs and restocking. I felt the same way after indulging in the fleshpots of Chalten, copious wine and massive Argentinean steaks. However we agreed that we had done the hard part, having crossed 120km of ice, a piece of the earth’s surface travelled only a handful of times since my father’s journey fifty years before. In any case the last part to Lago Argentino is done on a regular basis and there are even refuges on the ice cap further south. Nevertheless on returning home the urge to do more on the ice cap has re kindled and if I can find the people I may well return. Finally I am extremely indebted to Martin and Cory whose skills and dreams allowed me to experience the great Southern Patagonian Ice cap.



John Shipton
Y Felin, February 2010