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Martin |
Joshua |
Jason |
Mark |
Ben |
Leo |
Roman |
BLUE LAKE
2013: The players
 Before
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Every grand undertaking needs a grand narrative: out of the night that covers us - black as the pit from pole to pole – we thank whatever gods may be – for our unconquerable soul. Usually our trip reports focus on descriptions of mesmerising vistas, panoptic visions and the splendour and access of nature but not this time. When you willingly (more or less) walk into the lion’s den with a maelstrom up your arse than it has to be about the people, the personalities and the delight of shared suffering. |
 After
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The people: In the fell clutch of circumstance–we have not winced nor cried aloud.Under the bludgeonings of chance - Our heads are bloody, but unbowed.
Jason and Joshua are our first father and son team to make it to Blue Lake: what an awesome achievement! At first Jason carried everything, but gradually Josh’s pack got heavier as I began loading him with extra stuff. Joshua was also our youngest Blue Lake recruit ever and fought valiantly against the elements and the bad humour lobbed at him by his middle-aged compatriots. I never heard him complain (except when the steak was too small). He also broke the record for the biggest kebab every (1kg see photo).
Then there was stoic Leo, second time Blue Laker, who never complained (except when I started squeezing his cramped up thighs) no matter how much weight we added to his bulging bagand despite the fact that he had never used alpine touring bindings in his life and the last time he went skiing was twenty years ago. His repeated full-speed downhill face-plants were legendary and painful to watch, but every single time he kept getting up for more.
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Mark checking Martin & Ben |
Buried but happy Martin |
Tent carcass |
Ben still smiling |
Mark is now a multi award winner with the longest approach (from Blue Cow) as well as the longest trip – 8 solitary cruel and long days and possibly the heaviest bag, but that honour probably belongs to Jason who single-handedly towed a barrel last year. It was only the promise of freeing Mark from his solitary confinement that made us persist through the white out to find him at the lake. Thanks for being there Mark!
Then there was Martin the master of placid suffering. His superlatives include simple survival in the most cruel tent conditions ever. He shared a twenty year old manky tent with Ben the first night. Not only did the tent collapse under the onslaught of the wind, but then both became ‘buried’ and fixed solid in place by tons of snow piling up on top of them. It took us a solid hour to dig them out in the morning. But that was not enough for Martin (he insisted - kind of?) to spend another night in his tent. We patched up the shattered tent poles as good as we could (using a toothbrush – see photo) and shakily erected it for another night. It lasted about one hour and Martin was entombed one more night incapacitated of movement by the build-up of snow. He waited patiently for us to dig him up ‘again’ the next morning!
Finally there was Ben who thought he was going on a fun ice-climbing trip in perfect blue sky conditions: he cramped up, he also thought he could ski and fell his way into the Guinness book of records – collapsing innumerable times perfectly in tune with the mercurial swaying of his massive bag. But he never gave up: when four hours turned to six and then to eight when the wind increased and we raced the dying light he pushed on and kept going by false promises. Just the next ridge became another 300 meters and on it went all day long. When the last ridge turned out to be false and when the hope of finding Mark’s perfectly camouflaged tent in a sea of like-minded boulders became like finding a needle in a dozen haystacks he persevered onwards swaying in the wind like a lost leave, until we suddenly stood in front of Mark ?
The trip: Every adventure is unique and unrepeatable: it lights a little flame inside you that carries you forward just a little further in your life. Just as Blue Lake 2012 was the best ice-climbing on picture perfect blue ice, in the same way, 2013 became the superlative for suffering. Beyond this life of wreath and tears – lies but the horror of the shade – and yet the menace of the years – finds and shall find us unafraid.This year’s Blue Lake trip was poetry in slow painful motion: it saw many records broken and included the largest contingent yet: Ben, Jason, Joshua, Leo, Mark, Martin and Roman all made it in more or less one piece.
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Yeti |
Repair job |
The long way home |
Mark, Roman, Leo |
Day 1: started at 5am. We moved flawlessly through the night from the campground at the entrance of the national park and hit the trail at Guthega at a record breaking time of about 8am just to find very little snow. We carried most of our skies or laboured with snowshoes through the thick heath only finding patchy conditions after climbing the first hill on the stretch to Illawong hut. The snow began to become more consistent just across the river but we had lost an hour just to get there. Conditions almost immediately deteriorated to light wind and we made little ground on the icy slopes. Little Twynam Creek was completely exposed and the combination of snow shoes and beginner alpine touring skies slowed us down considerably. We considered camping in the trees, but the presence of Mark at Blue Lake -waiting for us - somehow kept us going. When we finally chanced upon Mark in abominable conditions we just managed to build camp and collapsed in our tents.
Day 2 dawned in strong gale with spindrift burying all our tents. The lake was a mere meters behind us but impossible to see in the driving snow and gusty wind. After digging out Ben and Martin it was breakfast time and Mark’s huge add-on vestibule was used for brewing coffee while everyone else rested in their tents and cooked breakfast. Most of the day was either spent resting from the day before or repairing bits and pieces of broken equipment from the previous day. There was plenty of scotch and whisky going around amongst liberal doses of salami and cheese. The winds increased throughout the daytime and snow kept bucketing down relentlessly. At night the gusts increased and began burying us once more. The decision was made to head back home the next morning before conditions deteriorated even further.
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Josh |
Leo |
Mark |
Repair crew |
Day 3: Incredible winds and loads of snow kept Mark and Ben busy all night shovelling the huge pile up around their tent and occasionally removing a couple of tons from Martin’s collapsed tent to keep him going. ‘Home’ sounded like a pretty good alternative under these conditions. We started early ‘alpine style’ and the winds eased up just enough to make breaking camp a little easier. We thought that dropping down lower might get us out of the wind but it persisted pretty much all the way. At least now we had plenty of new snow and it looked like a solid meter had fallen over the last day. It was impossible to go high in these conditions so we circumvented the slopes downward along the river trying not to get too low. We found a good route home but tricky snow conditions slowed us down and the sight of the snowy-river bridge brought welcome relieve to our punished minds. As is tradition we destroyed the last bits of salami at the bridge and then gunned back to the cars along the last straight to the final knoll past Illawong lodge.
2013 was indeed a tour of many superlative sufferings: how many people can you fit in the back of a Nissan X-trail? The answer is three if you pack them tightly: Ben, Leo and Roman on their first night at the campground near the national park entrance. Then there was the most efficient and earliest start hitting the trails at 8am sharp, leading to the longest approach and the impossible task of locating Mark at 4pm. Probably the worst approach conditions with almost no snow from Guthega and a relentless fight through knee-deep heath, followed by the longest whiteout with the wind never relenting for three solid days and probably the most salami eaten ever. It matters not how strait the gate - How charged with punishments the scroll – We are the master of our fate: We are the captain of our souls.
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In memoria invictus |
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Martin's comments and statistics:
This sums up the atmosphere pretty accurately – a relentless slog by a determined bunch of hard core dudes fighting against the elements. I will never forget this trip, that’s for sure. Normally on these trips you quickly forget the suffering and just remember the fun bits. Now….what were the fun bits?? Well, thinking about it, I’d have to say one highlight was a tin mug of port inside the haven of my tent, along with a freeze-dried meal of butter chicken on the first night. It didn’t taste much like the label but it was hot and wet and filled a big space in my stomach! The other highlight I have from this trip, and a more memorable one, is the way everyone pulled together to help each other out. I really appreciate all the efforts people went to to rescue me from an icy grave, fix my 27 year old tent and make up for various equipment failures like my headlamp battery – thanks Ben! I still have your head torch so will get it back to you asap.
Mark was a veritable Bear Grylls/MacGyver with his improvisational skills in his Aladdin’s cave of tools and comforts – special thanks for helping my tent survive it’s last night ever (it’s now in the bin with my shit bag in the middle!) and for his positive spirit and can-do attitude under trying conditions.
Great job, Roman, to lead the group and find Mark’s tent in conditions close to white-out. Actually, we almost skied past it cos it looked like just another rock. It was a real relief at that point as we thought we had another km to go and might have to make a temporary camp.
Jason did an amazing job not to fall asleep at the wheel on the way back. I couldn’t have shared driving after getting just 1 hour sleep in 90 hours (by the time I got to bed at 1am.)
Some interesting stats about this trip:
Before
After
