BLUE LAKE 2014 panorama

Old longings nomadic leap,
chafing at custom’s chain;
Again from its brumal sleep,
wakens the ferine strain.
… The Call of the Wild

	Winter comes yet again to the Southern Hemisphere… cold winds, lashing rains. First signs of snow finally in the Snowy Mountains towards end of June. The official winter opening weekend at the ski resorts has been anything but wintery. The snow guns were hardly firing. Patches of green far and wide except the peaks, where dustings of snow fell. But the front came, and suddenly dumps were happening by the meters. No mistaking the call of the wild now. The Professor and the clan of Sushi Climbers were not able to make it, and the initial dozen EOIs dwindled down to four guys. Mark and I were doing this for the third year together. Alex was a first time campaigner not knowing what to expect, and Josh went last year but did not even glimpse the Lake, a testament to how atrocious conditions were then. In 2013, we pretty much endured three days of incessant snow storms before making a hasty retreat.This year we planned to start with a rather ambitious winter traverse of the Aussie 10, a trip that would cover over 70km, starting from Perisher resort. We met up with Josh on Thursday night at The Station in Jindabyne as he was already there from a snowboarding trip with his mates. We stayed the night there instead of the usual camp outside Kosciuszko National Park for the alternate start from Guthega. The ski-tube ride from Bullocks Flat will take us to Perisher resort, and then a straight forward snowshoe jaunt to Charlotte Pass where we’ll start our adventure. Once done, we will head to Blue Lake to finish the trip with some ice climbing. We allocated a week for the Aussie 10, which equated to an average of 10km/day, or about 4hr/day of walking.
	Friday – Day 1. We departed the ski-tube at 10:30am and were on the snow by 1pm. A very un-alpine start. But 8km on a snow-covered road with no need for navigation… how hard can that be? Lugging around 35kg each, we were averaging only 3km/hr. We also took the Spencer Creek trail and ended up in the Charlotte Pass resort itself. Bad move as that meant back tracking and doing a steep little climb back to the main road. The winds picked up. Clouds came in thick and fast, while the sun seemed in a hurry to set. At Charlotte Pass, we spent more time looking for the start of the trail. We neglected the map, compass and GPS, and ended up wasting more time. It was certain we would not make it to Merritt’s Creek that evening so we quickly established camp while we could still see. Within two hours, darkness had descended upon us and a ferocious storm whipped up in earnest. It was 7pm. Good decision to stop at the Pass. Three tents set up. We could hear nothing but the howling wind. There’d be no hot food that night. As we hung on for dear life, it occurred to me that we have a CB radio so we ceased shouting across the tents once they were located. “Josh, Josh can you hear me? All good?” I asked. After a short moment, the CB crackled and I heard his reply “Yeah, we’re ok.” I had no desire to head out. We had no kitchen and have not built any walls for protection from the wind. I answered back “Mate, this wind is bullshit. Eat your salami and cheese. I’ll cook in the morning ok?” The wind was really hammering down by then and my tent was shaking violently. “Ok, will do. See you in the morning. Good night!” Josh replied. I can hear a lot of flapping. Our tents were obviously not secured properly in our rush to set them up. Hopefully it doesn’t get much worse or our tents may disintegrate. I cannot hear Mark at all, but he’s a resilient lad so I was sure he’d be ok. We were camped up on the ridge, right where the wind turbulence peaks.
	Earlier, while setting camp, I had a scare that probably explains the mystery of the missing Alaskan tent pole of 2013 where a mate (Will) and I picked up a tent with a missing pole. When setting up my tent this time, I casually tossed the poles onto the snow after snapping them into position, as you do. The ground was a little inclined, and that was enough to start the pole moving. Now I know first-hand that a rolling tyre can develop its own momentum. Introducing Mr. Wilson, my tyre that I dragged for sled training. Mr. Wilson rolled off into oblivion one day when I accidentally rolled him down the bush unsecured instead of dragging it. It went on to jump a 10m waterfall and was never found. But a straight tent pole can’t roll. The little incline led to steeper grounds, and that went all the way to the bottom of the Pass, where the Snowy River crosses. It would have taken a few hours to descend and return, so I made a limp little run after it. Poles slide. As it picked up speed, I shook my head and said “Hey, no… c’mon?”, then I started an all-out sprint for it. “No, NO, NOOOOO!!!” I covered less than 20m before tripping and making a desperate dive for the recalcitrant pole. Everything seemed slow motion. Of course I missed and started rolling down myself. The boys ran after me once they realized what happened… not that they could help, but to watch the unfolding spectacle. The pole eventually got snagged by the tiniest branch of a snow-gum still jutting out from the snow. After this, the slope got serious and only Mr. Bolt would have any chance of catching it. I could not believe my luck. I dry-heaved a couple of time from the effort, dusted the snow off and picked up my pole. I laughed out. What a jubilant moment. Poles must be stabbed into the snow…
	Saturday – Day 2. I was up by 7am and didn’t sleep well due to the noise from the storm. I was also worried if Alex cracked from the opening night’s weather display by the mighty Snowy Mountains. Josh was with him so they should both be ok. Mark was sound asleep in his tent. Me? I was just hungry and busting to take a crap. First however, I checked on the other boys and dug around their tents’ exit as they were pretty much buried. Then I dug a trench for the kitchen. The storm calmed and soon everyone was out. We got busy clearing the snow and redoing the tents. I brewed up some coffee and then cooked up some noodles in miso soup, vegetarian sausages and mixed vege, plus some frozen hard boiled eggs. We were sticking to a mainly vegetarian diet. After the feed, we continued to build tent city with elaborate trenches that linked up the tents. The storm was returning according to the barometric pressure on our watches. No one was motivated to continue with the abysmal outlook so we decided to stay another night to rejuvenate. Our water supply was depleted so we got busy melting snow as the wind blew aimlessly and the snow fell heavier. We were ravenous by 4pm and decided to cook dinner. We had couscous with cheese, vege patties and more mixed veges. Everyone was in great spirits despite the weather, but I was in a spot of bother as the first bottle of fuel has been used up. I had two left. 6L of water from melting snow burnt up more fuel than I expected. Mark was self sufficient but I felt we did not have enough fuel for three at the rate we were consuming. After some discussions in Mark’s tent, while enjoying some whiskey of course, we decided to abandon the Aussie 10. We shall head directly for Blue Lake instead when the weather clears. We can dig for water there and life should be easier. We called it a night at 7pm…
	Sunday – Day 3. Everyone slept deeply and woke to a miraculously sunny morning with only a light breeze. The cloud cover was quite sparse so we decided to make a move. No hot breakfast today. Just fruit cake, hard boiled eggs and cheese. We packed at leisure… after all this was a holiday… and made our way down towards the Snowy River late morning. A few XC-skiers whizzed pass so the forecast must be favorable. We gingerly crossed the snow bridge at the foot of the Pass. There was a gaping hole, but no signs of water so one of the skiers must have punched through and had a scare. The river was not frozen and we could hear it flowing underneath. Next was an uphill traverse that went eastwards, crossing Carruthers Creek and Blue Lake Creek, passing the tree line and on towards Hedley Tarn on our west and Crummer Spur to our east before we get views of the Amphitheater of Blue Lake, at an altitude of 1890m. The 4km trip took about three hours to complete with a short break in the middle. The lake was frozen over and we could hear voices towards the north of the lake. We were out of water, so we dug a hole at the exit of the lake and after about half a meter, we got to the slush. I plunged my axe in, and lo and behold, water!! While the boys got busy filling up, I walked across the lake towards the voices. Sure enough there was Dariusz and his mates, climbing some 50 meters or more up. We exchanged greetings and I yelled out an invitation to visit our camp that evening, but we didn’t see them again. There was ice galore and the classic triple route was there waiting for us. All we need now is for the weather to be nice. Josh and Alex were wide-eyed scoping out Australia’s most famous glacial lake, now frozen into a desolate moonscape.
	We methodically set up camp in a flat area some distance away from the lake. A gentle breeze blew from the south but nothing to worry about. Since we planned to camp here for another week, we made sure that the snow was stamped down so that no protruding ice would ruin our sleep and tents. Josh and Alex cut blocks for erecting a snow wall, and wedug out a nice dining and kitchen area. Meanwhile, Mark was also busy creating his den – he had a Vango Spirit 200+ tent which had a cooking / visitor area separated by a vestibule, and a spacious sleeping area. Dinner was at 4pm. A feast of crispy noodles in miso soup, more vege patties and more vege... everything tastes great in the snow. The rum and whiskeys flowed freely as we reminisced last year’s trip here – we had a good laugh over Martin’s broken tent that was fixed with a toothbrush splint (didn’t work for long), how Ben suffered with his first time experience on XC-skis, how the snowshoe’ers were faster than the skiers, and whether or not we’ll have a sprint finish on our way out this year. We also toyed with the idea of cutting a hole in the lake to jump in. Nude, of course. Mark explained the fastest way to dry off “Ya roll in the snow after hoping out.” We collectively shook our heads. “The water freezes, and then you just brush it off.” He explained further. Bear Grylls definitely took his clothes off to demo how to cross a frozen stream, so that he can put on dry clothes afterwards. I read also that the body has a mammalian cold response, or something, that shunts the blood away from the extremities. So humans can survive up to a half hour in frigid waters. However, the first response is the reflex to take a gasp when the head is immersed. Josh suggested “Let’s tie the rope around the chest in case that happens… or if we get a cardiac arrest from the shock.” Could have, should have, but Bear Grylls we ain’t and we never followed through with this. Unbeknownst to us then, this was the most peaceful night of the trip… no winds, no flapping tents, not a squeak that night. The glow of the moon lit the sky towards the peaks in the north. And we got to see the Lake this year. The chaos of everyday life has been left behind as we chilled on the outer edge of suburban life.
	Monday – Day 4. We all slept soundly and woke early to a perfectly still morning with clear blue skies. The sun’s rays could be seen inching towards our camp site. The weather gods were finally on our side. We ate fruit cake again to conserve fuel and had plenty of coffee. We got packed for climbing by 11am and sauntered over to the Amphitheater – the sun does not hit the climbing routes till later, so there was no hurry. After briefing Josh and Alex, who both have not strapped on crampons before, about the intricacies of ice climbing, we dug a belay ledge some distance up from the lake’s perimeters. We also demo’ed how to arrest a slide should anyone fall unroped. It was easy to simply glissade down from the belay ledge to our gear instead of walking down. Mark hurriedly put his harness on, eager to get climbing. He was a happy man after being reunited with his Black Diamond ice tool leashes. They were believed lost during last year’s trip, but he found it in a very secure location in his PACK while we were setting up camp at Charlotte Pass. He dispatched the first lead like a pro. The ice-screw went through the ice at the top of the route though and resulted with him getting a right drenching from the water gushing out. I was next and decided to top rope it as it was my first time using my prized Petzl Nomics – one year in the waiting, no less!! Made in France, bought in Alaska… first used at Blue Lakes, what a journey. These babies are used leashless and were just incredible, inspiring total confidence with every swing. Josh and Alex were next. Both were about to get their “Why ice climbing?” directly answered for the first time. We did tell them that most important rule of ice-climbing is not to fall and then Mark proceeded to tell them the fine print… “Anchors may pull off, the ice may break. Climbing is a dangerous sport – use your discretion. It is not necessary to climb. Death and serious injury may result from the pursuit of climbing...” With that in mind, both made it up without falling and they got their answer… the smiles said it all. Mark had a little accident. After doing his impersonation of Ueli Steck, he decided to glissade down a steep icy path… without an axe. He was well on his way to launching off into the frozen lake when his crampon caught (as it inevitably does). The somersaults and broken ankles and fresh blood spurting blood from a severed femoral artery onto the snow didn’t happen, thankfully. He got off lightly with only ripped pants and a superficial thigh wound from the crampons.
	I finally got my lead and by then it was past 3pm. The sun was bearing down on us with water dripping off the icicles here and there. We saw a few other interesting routes but with four persons sharing a rope, it was a slow going. I was keen to do the ‘Triple’ route further away and there were some steeper R-rated stuff for me and Mark to check out. As an intro to the sport for Josh and Alex, it was a great day. Being the last to climb, I had to clean up. There were three snow stakes to retrieve before a precarious little unprotected down-climb that would have incurred a nasty slide if I slipped, but fortunately there were no further mishaps that day. Mark had already limped off, as he wanted to head up Little Twynam to check on the weather, messages etc using his brand new flashy satellite phone (thanks to his other half). We scurried back to camp and with time on our hands, Josh and Alex started a shovel sliding and surfing competition. Alex, who is an experienced surfer, impressed us with his crazy feats of sliding down slopes while standing on the shovel… doing a face-plant to stop. Meanwhile, I watched while trying to concentrate on cooking up some dinner. A dropped sausage, just as Mark got back, marked the start of a vege-sausage throwing contest… with the eventual winner being Josh with a 70m fling. We had more noodles, miso soup, falafel and mixed vege. Everyone was in great spirits as the weather was still looking good. The plan was to spend tomorrow climbing the harder routes and also to do some alpine stuff, climbing up Mt. Twynam. We’ll then stay another day before heading home. Considering we were planning on a ten day trip, there’s plenty of food for everyone. Mark was invited to share our rations in return for using his fuel to boil water so there would be sufficient fuel too. We had plenty of sunlight, so all our batteries are charged so all our reservoirs are full. The latest weather forecast was obviously inaccurate as it was as calm as can be. As we dozed off to sleep at 8pm, I dreamt of another two days of ice climbing paradise awaiting us…
	Tuesday – Day 5. I woke at 3am to an unbelievable racket outside. No way!! How did this wind appear without warning? A snow storm was well and truly shaping up. I didn’t know it then, but it turned out to be the second worst storms I’ve ever experienced in a tent. Only NZ weather was worse, but I was within the relative safety of an alpine hut. I was wide awake from all the shaking of the tent, and booming sound of the gale force winds. My MSR Fury tent was built for such environments and had been tested before last year, but nevertheless I could not help reflecting that only two layers of fabric less than 5mm thick, held-up by four metal poles is all that stands between me and an exceedingly intolerable night. After the initial halfpanicky thoughts, the brain shifts to other things… “Pheweeee, how lucky I don’t need to take a shit or a piss right now.” I thought. I squirmed around in the sleeping bag, trying to cover my ears and settled on my left side. “Hah, Josh. With his mind over matter crap… hope he’s not busting right now!! He had his chance earlier.” I smirked. More fidgeting and I turn yet again to lie on my right, wishing I brought some ear plugs. “Good job Alex decided to shit after dinner.” “Hmm, at least Mark can shit in his vestibule.” Ten minutes later “Dammit, I left my pee bottle in the vestibule…” Another ten minutes pass and “Goddammit!!” I thought. “Where’s my headlight?” And then I was unzipping my sleeping bag, sitting up, donning my gloves and reaching out into the vestibule for the pee bottle. Of course after all the effort, the pee disappeared. And on it goes… until I startled up at 7am to a crazy dream of Chucky (yes, that Chucky) being repeatedly stabbed but yet he was laughing away. I must have fallen asleep again and when I woke, it was 8:30am. It was silent except for the storm that was calming down somewhat. The rest of the day was spent rebuilding the kitchen and some semblance of order to our ravaged site. Mark managed to get reception and said that there may be a lull in the weather tomorrow but the winds will return again.
	By 3pm, we were quite miserable and decided to leave tomorrow in case we get trapped for a few days. With that decision taken, everyone started getting busy packing up as much as we can so that we can make a clean exit the following morning. Cooking dinner became a miserable affair as the wind started picking up again, but we cooked up as much as our stomach required. By 7:15pm, the storm show got underway again. Mark had boiled us a liter of water each and cradling that bottle to sleep was the only comfort for what was developing into a diabolical night. That night, I experienced my worst snow storm ever in a tent. The winds soon turned gale force and a deep booming sound can be heard, with even the ground seeming to shake. Before heading in, I had shoveled snow right around the tent to prevent and wind from getting in from underneath and lifting it. Being a bike rider, I know the wind speed was way in excess of the legal speed limit. Although my tent was standing, I started to really worry about Josh & Alex’s rental tent. At midnight, when I was half asleep, a chill went down my spine as I thought I heard footsteps shuffling back and forth near my tent. Chucky was back!! It was real and it was soon heading straight for me. And then… “Mate, we are fricken buried!!” I heard Mark yelling. Holy Christ, my heart was thumping off the chart and I was fully awake. Why would Mark, let alone Chucky, need to head out in such abominable conditions? Unless tents have collapsed? “Your wall has blown over…” He shuffled closer “… and the whole dining area is covered with snow!!” he continued. “You’ll have to come out in a few hours to do a bit of digging!!” No way was I getting out, I thought. I’ll dig myself out in the morning I needs be. I sat up and unzipped my tent, and a wholewall of snow collapsed inwards. My vestibule was completely covered and I couldn’t see the exit. Dammit, this really meant I had to dig myself out. And then, shock, horror. “Mark, MARK… wait!! My shovel!! It’s near the stove!!” I yelled. “Can you see it? I can’t get out man!!” Mark yelled back “The area is completely covered mate. Completely. I can’t see shit!!!” Oh nooo… “Mark, no, no. Trust me, it’s there. Just jump in two meters to the left of my vestibule. It’s definitely there please!!” I pleaded. Chuuunk… Mark found the buried shovel straight away. And the handle of my beautiful maroon coloured shovel materialized into my vestibule. Phew!!
	Wednesday – Day 6. I must have fallen asleep. Time check… 4am. The gale seemed to have subsided somewhat. It had been a hell of a night and the sudden lull woke me. I was fidgeting around in the sleeping bag and couldn’t sleep so I decided to will myself to keep still with some meditation. A bit of deep breathing later, I drifted into Shavasana. When I next opened my eyes, it was 6:30am. The wind was still there but it seemed ok for us to bail this morning. After picturing what I needed to do, I got dressed and started packing up, starting with the sleeping bag and moving on to everything else in the tent. They went straight into the pack followed by all the other stuff outside. It was a slow process as a lot of our gear has been buried under at least a meter of snow. The tents were dismantled last. Our packs seemed just as heavy as when we started probably because of all the snow-melt soaking into our gear. After one last check to ensure everything has been tucked away, we heaved on our packs and marched off. It was 9am. Gusty. Cold. And a total white out!! After less than 100meters, things became dire as we have no perception of depth or direction. We had to head towards the tree line and downhill towards the river crossing, and then up towards Charlottes Pass again. I had stupidly packed my compass and map away instead of having it hung around my neck as I usually do. So we were relied on Mark who had a GPS and compass. It dawned on me that his GPS was without an electronic compass so he had to keep looking at his compass to get his bearing. Josh loss his footing on an unseen slope and hurt his knee. All of us took turns rolling over a few times and soon I determined that we were stumbling around in circles. I was last in our single file march and saw that within 10 meters, we were veering to the right. Mark therefore had to hold his compass up continuously as he led the way. Occasionally the air cleared and we were able to see trees in the distance. It would have been too dangerous to travel in these conditions if there were more significant elevation changes as we definitely would have stumbled off a cliff. Fortunately Mark’s brilliant navigation skills together with the little mercies of the occasional lifting clouds got us to the foothills of the crossing. The uphill slog to Charlotte Pass seemed forever but visibility was much improved and we got there by noon. After a quick lunch, we started the 8km trek back to Perisher Resort. There was no talk about doing a race to the finish line this time since our minds and bodies were preoccupied with the suffering of our Sisyphean motions. Soon our group was stringed out but there was no risk of getting lost. Three and a half hours later, we dropped our packs at the Resort. By 5:30pm, we were back at Wilderness Sports in Jindabyne to return Alex’s hired gear, and then the long drive back to the Coast. Alex drove. I sat in front. Josh and Mark sat at the back, sandwiched between our gear and they were soon dozing off.
	We were minutes from Cooma when Alex calmly said “Oh ohh” and swerved to the right. I looked up from Google map and wondered “Hmmm… there’s a 1.5 meter roo playing peek-a-boo with… oh shit… US???” as we proceeded to smash the living daylights out of the beast with the side mirror, starting with its massive head. It was a sickening thud as it bounced and rolled-off to the side of the car. Both the mirror and kangaroo lost. We pulled over at Cooma to calm down and inspect the damage – the mirror was hanging by a single spring, so we dismantled it. There were some dents to the front and rear but we got off lightly as Alex kept his cool. Providence must have kept the roo from venturing out another step, into our direct path. We sure hoped that this was the last bit of excitement pre-ordained for our trip’s conclusion. Regardless, a celebration was in order so at Goulburn, we satiated ourselves each with 1kg kebabs or falafels before hitting the road again. By 2am, the 2014 Blue Lakes trip was officially over. I’m unsure of the others, but I was contentedly tucked under a doona with the electric blanket set on max while my mind slowly drifted off to some faraway land surrounded with snowcapped mountains.
	Jason 14 August 2014