Skiing with penguins at the end of the world — part 3
As the monochromatic fantasia of Deception Island still lingered vividly in my memory, it’s hard to imagine the soaring euphoria and disappointment that were to follow in the ensuing days.
10/22 Morning: Portal Point, Charlotte Bay
Continuing south from Deception Island (area A in map below), we arrived at the tip of Antarctic Peninsula, which extends like an octopus tentacle reaching towards South America. Early on the 22nd, we learned the scout team abandoned the planned landing site in Charlotte Bay due to strong winds and resorted to “plan B” with milder weather but less ideal terrain. Despite this, we readied ourselves full of excitement — according to the expedition staff, today is the only day in the itinerary we’d get to ski on the Antarctic continent itself (with the remaining days exploring the various surrounding islands of the peninsula).
I thought the scenery of Deception Island the day prior was plenty dreamy, yet the majestic glaciers of the Antarctic Peninsula was on another level of soul-shocking. A vast ice sheet swelled before us, undulating gently beneath a blanket of pristine snow. To our left, massive exposed crevasses and torn ice twisted in torment. From the deep ice folds emanated an azure glow, dangerous yet alluring. Looking around, a breathtaking panorama unfolds: the turquoise bay surrounded by virgin white peaks, with glittering icebergs and sea ice dotting the waters.
Without towering peaks in the vicinity, the slope gradually leveled into a gentle incline after a short ascent. Moving steadily behind our guide, immersed in the dreamscape, existence has never felt so simple and pure. My memory suddenly jolted back to one time during childhood, when my family accompanied my grandmother during her visit to Beijing. Always taciturn, when grandmother looked down at the view from the top of the Tiananmen tower where the highest leaders of the country has always stood, she uncharacteristically exclaimed “I have not lived in vain!”. For my grandma, who had spent her entire life in a tiny village in rural China, standing there was something she would never have dreamed of. Twenty years later, as my skis glide over this incredible landscape in Antarctica, I was overcome with the same sense of wonder: I would have no regrets if my life has ended at this moment.
The dry and biting winds rendered the snow here extremely fine, starkly different from the slushy wet snow on Deception Island the day prior. The expansive and rippling Sastrugis were hard packed but not icy. Our skis glide down the slope, leaving just the slightest tracks on the snow.
10/22 Afternoon: Eckener Point, Charlotte Bay
Over lunch break, our ship sailed back across the bay to Eckener Point, the original “plan A” site for the morning. I went to the observation deck to catch a view and was immediately awestruck. No wonder this is the plan A, its grandeur and magnificence further eclipsing the site we visited in the morning. On a towering peak, colossal glaciers twist and fracture down the steep terrain. On the other side, an massive ice sheet stretches a smooth and serene expanse, beckoning us to put in some ski tracks.
Given our group’s low landing order this afternoon, the expedition staff offered us a sightseeing Zodiac tour on water. Our boat weaved through crystalline icebergs, meandering along the coastline. A stretch of exposed cliffs unfolded before us, the rocks adorned with the orange-red hues, epecially striking against the blue sky and white snow. Perched on the steep rocks were hundreds of Antarctic Shags. Among them, two sat on snow mounds atop rocks, brooding. Watching them, we couldn’t help but worry about the structural integrity of their nests once the snow starts melting.
Compared to the vast snowfields of our morning ski tour, the afternoon ascent surrounded by towering mountains felt more like proper “ski mountaineering”. The vistas were so breathtaking that photos mindlessly taken in any direction look stunning, yet none of them could fully capture the awe from being immersed in it.
The snow condition on the descent was very much “variable”. I let my guard down after a few turns in fine powdery snow, and suddenly hit a hard icy pocket of Sastrugi snow. One of my skis got stuck and popped off the binding — harvesting my first wipeout in Antarctica. The conditions in the backcountry require different techniques from inbound skiing. When getting up and reflecting on the moves that led to the fall, I remembered a tip I learned this year from a PSIA examiner to tighten my ankles by lifting the top of my feet, maintaining control without getting the ski tips stuck in uneven pockets or deep snow. For the rest of the trip, applying the tip helped a ton with my stability on snow.
The captain picked today’s evening for the typical polar expedition activity: polar plunge due to the calm and sunny weather. I had no strong desire to wait in long lines and plunge into the cold salty ocean, but watching my fellow passengers from the deck and observing how their various personalities manifest in the forms they leapt and the reactions afterwards was rather amusing.
10/23 Enterprise Island
After a clear and sunny day, what greeted us the next morning was a different kind of dreamscape. All the uncovered parts on the ship were covered in a thick layer of snow. We boarded Zodiacs enveloped with snow and headed towards shore amidst a heavy snowstorm. Out little inflatable boat zig zags through countless sea ice floating on the ocean surface (they are actually termed grease ice for the visual resemblance of oil leaks). Visibility was extremely low, with no sight of the shore or the ship we came from, just endless snow and ice in every direction. After a while in this condition trying to find a way through the ice to shore, our Zodiac driver checked the coordinates and realized we just spent the last 10 minutes making a big circle and ended exactly where we started.
After some more navigating we finally made it to shore. Shortly after we stepped on land, however, an avalanche came down on a steep slope to the right of our path (video below). In the blink of an eye, a huge snow slab fractured and plunged directly into the ocean below. It was likely remotely triggered by the motions from the group ahead of us. Fortunately all the skiers were standing on the gentler side of the terrain not on the slide path. But its raw power and potential consequence weighed heavily on our minds. One of the ways backcountry skiers manage risks of avalanches is by bringing a safety kit so others can help dig out anyone buried. But here, if terrain aren’t chosen carefully, an avalanche can sweep you directly into the abyss of the ocean within seconds.
Before arriving in Antarctica, the mountain guides for the trip repeatedly emphasized to us that because Antarctica is the driest continent in the world with low precipitation year round, we should not come expecting to ski fresh, powdery snow. The greatest risk of skiing in Antarctica is falling into a glacier crevasse while ascending and traversing. Avalanches, while usually being the top of hazard lists when ski touring elsewhere, rank only fifth of the risks to prepare for in Antarctica:
Given this context, seeing such a powerful large-scale avalanche can be so easily triggered from a distance was shocking even to our group’s guide who’s been on 20+ skiing trips to Antarctica. I suppose because Antarctica typically don’t get much heavy snowfall at once, there’s usually ample time for any new precipitation to bond nicely with existing snow surface. The blizzard we experienced accumulated so much wet snow in such short amount of time, that it hasn’t yet bonded with the old wind-scoured dry snow surface underneath, increasing the likelihood of avalanches. Not long after, we heard another avalanche roaring from the slope on the other side of us. After 2 very conservative short laps on gentle terrain, all the guides agreed it was time to head back to the ship.
Although this landing was especially brief (~1.5 hours) and we didn’t get to ski again the rest of the day due to the weather, it still felt quite fulfilling to have skied some rare powder and witnessed a rare avalanche in Antarctica. During our ascent, we also caught a glimpse of Guvernøren, a ship wreck at Enterprise Island (picture below). Coincidently, the Guvernøren met its fate the same year as Shackleton’s famous Endurance — both in 1915. However, the Endurance was built for adventurers with the goal of humanity’s first land crossing of Antarctica. That dream was unfortunately crushed as she got trapped and destroyed by sea ice, adding sense of tragic heroism to the story. In contrast, the story of the Guvernøren has a touch of humor to it. Built as a whaling ship, she was equipped with a factory to extract whale oil onboard. At the end of the 1915 whaling season, on the eve of their return voyage, the crew was having a party celebrating the successful end of the season. Legend has it that amongst the joyous singing and dancing, an overly excited sailor knocked over an oil lamp accidentally. The flames quickly spread in the oil-filled chambers and the captain had no choice but to abandon ship. The story also shares a similar ending with Shackleton’s in that all crew members were rescued by other whaling ships and survived, especially impressive considering the time and location.
As the Guvernøren’s crew lamented the fruits of their months of hard labor vanishing in an instant, they could never imagine their story would live on for much longer. More than 100 years later, their ship would still be poking out in a corner of Antarctica, touching the hearts of visitors like us passing by.
In retrospect, the arc of the Guvernøren’s story — hitting a pinnacle of joy only to an abrupt halt — foretells the remainder of our Antarctic trip. （story on that to be continued）
