“Break your leg in a heartbeat”
Today I would set foot on the continent of Antarctica – I have the certificate to prove it. Today I would also try inadvertently to injure myself in quite interesting ways. But today would also be the most beautiful of the trip.
We were split into two groups. While one group cruised Skontrop Cove and the head of a glacier, the other would land at Almirante Brown, an old Argentine research station.
The cruise around the head of the glacier was magical. The still waters, the architectural ice shapes, the colours - splashes of dark blue ink across the ice - the silence. We asked the Russian pilot if we could move our zodiac closer. “Kirsten won’t like it,” he smiled. Kirsten wouldn’t like it because glaciers calve icebergs without warning, and even a small calving could cause a lot of harm. We still moved closer. “Wow,” said one of us, repeatedly. “Wow.”
After breakfast it was our turn to land at Almirante Brown. Landing involved pulling yourself out of the zodiac by a length of old rope onto what used to be a landing stage, but what was now a loose plank with little support. Once on land you hike yourself up a 350ft hill to enjoy the views of the harbour below. Then you decide how best to get back down again.
“Some people,” we were told at the lecture the previous evening, “just sit down and sort of shuffle on their bums down the slope. We don’t recommend this method.” No, but it is the safest, and for some the quickest way. The boots we were issued with at the start of the voyage were fine walking up hill on the crisp, powdery snow, but their lack of flexibility made the descent difficult.
Bum-shuffling is really the only way. I proceeded to shuffle, following the track of a previous bum until a voice called over to me “I’d head over this way, if I were you. You’re heading toward a cliff.” I crabbed myself swiftly sideways and yes, about 20ft from where I had been, my gentle slope quickly became vertical, rocky and quite definitely lethal - easily a 60ft drop.
Soon afterwards, I hear a female voice from far behind me cry “Oh Shit!” followed by the umistakeable sound of human sliding on snow. The sound grew louder as she skittered by, not stopping until she reached the bottom of the hill, spinning slowly to an unhurt stop, laughing herself silly.
After safely reaching the bottom, I wanted to be by myself for a while, so I walked away from the main group. My path crossed the tracks of previous visitors as I headed towards the water. The snow was quite deep but manageable, I thought, until my right leg disappeared beneath me and kept on disappearing. Stuck.
I heard a voice at my side. “Break your leg in a heartbeat,” growled Phil, a 10-year veteran of McMurdo Antarctic base and one of the Quark Expeditions personnel.
With Phil's help, it took me a little while to work myself free, my boot being just bendy enough for me to point my toes. Luckily I didn’t need anyone to dig me from the snow, but it was a close thing – as was that broken leg.
That evening was my second Antarctic sunset aboard ship. The Lemaire Channel must be one of the most beautiful places on Earth at any time, but that evening it was perfect.
A crescent moon rode high in the sky as we followed a large cruise ship between the mountains, the peaks lit by the slowly setting sun. It takes a long time for the sun to set at these latitudes, and of course it never really gets dark in the Anarctic Spring.
This was our most southerly point of the trip, 65°07’S.
Back to Day 1
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