Vinson blog part 1: Playing the waiting game!

In this series of blogs about Vinson I’m picking out bits of the expedition that struck a chord with me, rather than writing a blow by blow account of the daily doings. I have so much to write, so much to say but do also know that it has a shelf life with you all!

First up - Playing the waiting game. Patience is a virtue…right?!

‘You are the master of the waiting game babe, Vinson is no different’ quipped Rolfe as we sat at breakfast in Low Camp on Christmas Day, Santa hats and beards donned, wondering if we were ever going to head up high. This was just one of the many delays that I experienced in the run up to and on the expedition itself but as Rolfe said, I’ve been there, done that and could have bought the t-shirt a thousand times over.

Patience is our Master on expeditions but after my sponsor sadly dropped out in 2018 and Carstensz Pyramid, which was supposed to be #6 of the 7 summits, being the Mother of all expeditions to arrange and then be cancelled at the last minute, I had really hoped that this one, Mt Vinson in Antarctica, would go just a little bit more smoothly.

I’d raised some of the expedition funds plus a goodly amount for children’s mental health charity Place2Be, who I have been supporting since Everest became a reality back in 2014, but had headed to Chile for the start of this particular journey severely in debt on a strict budget and was keeping everything crossed that all would go somewhat according to plan. This was going to be my one and only chance. In the mountains the weather usually plays the ultimate stop or go cards but as I’d learnt from Everest in 2015 and Carstensz just a few months ago, plus on a fair few other work and personal expeditions, it’s the unexpected that will get you.

The 16th and 17th December were reserved for 'getting stuff done'. My kit had been checked and all was in order, the bag check-in was done and then, unsurprisingly, we were grounded for a couple of days due to bad weather. I was prepared for this, it’s normal for Antarctic flights not to run to ‘schedule’. You fly when you can, you don’t when you can’t, it’s that simple. Towards the end of a morning’s walk on the 19th that had been organised for us, a wee wander around Reserva Magallanes which I did in my rainbow pumps and praying with each step that I didn’t turn an ankle, we received the news that we had to go for a meeting at the ALE offices that evening where I thought we’d be told we were either going that night or would stay put for 7 days due to the weather. None of us predicted what would go up on the screen.

‘We will be not be flying for at least several days due to civil aviation documentation updates’ (or words to that effect). There was a resounding ‘uuuuggghhhh’ coming from around a room full of around 40 climbers and their guides. ‘You have got to be kidding’ was going through my head, ‘not again’. I nearly cried. This was totally out of my hands, absolutely nothing I could do about it so what was the point in getting angry or annoyed. That behaviour was buried in the past, where I would get all tetchy and ‘my rights’ but that is no way to conduct yourself and is no good for the blood pressure either!

A few of us headed out for dinner, resigned to another few days in Punta Arenas. The following day a city walk was organised by ALE for our group of merry adventurers, some heading for Vinson and some to ski the last degree, all willing the stuck documents to be unstuck and quickly. It was a sobering walk around the cemetery and a reminder, if ever one was needed, that we were fortunate to be above ground and not underneath it.

I’d settled into my 3rd hotel room and expected to celebrate Christmas in Chile when a message came through at 4.15pm on 20th to say that we were flying that night and to be packed, ready and at the ALE office at 6pm. Crikey!! I quickly phoned Mum to say we were off, to send her my love and wish her a Happy Christmas. Talk about a change of circumstances and what-ever had changed, I thanked ALE profusely.

So, we were off but I still knew that things may not go according the plan. Not in a pessimistic way but I was very aware of the environment in which I was surrounded by, the coldest and driest place on earth where the weather really does have the final word.

We’d essentially flown onto Antarctica 3 days late so were now pushed for time. This was the one and only time where no money and plenty of time would be an advantage to me so if our summit had not been reached due to the weather on V3 (the 3rd Vinson rotation of the season) then I could have stayed on for V4. Many were not in that position so the constant chat of ‘when are we going up’ was somewhat irking but I could understand their frustrations.

More delays at Vinson Base Camp meant a short walk up the hill towards Low Camp to keep us entertained then another delay when we did get to Low Camp as the snow conditions were not deemed stable enough on the fixed lines. Having witnessed from a safe distance a rather large avalanche ripping down the West face of Vinson and across our tracks about an hour before we were due to cross it’s path I was most definitely not going to argue. (no-one was hurt in the avalanche but walking through the debris was another sobering reminder of exactly where we were).

Our final delay was at High Camp. We’d had a brilliant day climbing up the 1200m of fixed lines on a 45 degree incline and ascending 1000m to see the most breathtaking views across the mountains and further on to the polar plateau. It was purely stunning. Hoping for an imminent summit of Vinson and therefore a possible attempt on Mount Shinn, the 3rd highest peak in Antarctica which conveniently sits within striking distance of our original planned summit but once again it was just not meant to be.

I woke up on Boxing Day, our hoped-for summit day, and screeched at Rolfe in a rather annoyed but very excited voice ‘IT’S SUMMIT DAY Chief – Eeeeeekkkkkk!!’ and then looked out of the tent. Clouds and spin drift were flying off the summit at great speed and when the weather forecast came through an hour or so later with winds of 13 – 18 knots and temperatures below -30c I knew that today was to be yet another rest day. Hey ho, it’s all part of the cycle of life on expedition.

However, the following day Lady Luck was finally on our side. The winds had calmed enough, temperatures were not overly Baltic and conditions were good. It was time to head up higher, to go for a little walk up a chilly hill.

I mused to Rolfe on the way down that I’m not a good client anymore. So used to being on the doing side of things rather than being done to (if you catch my drift!), being out of the info loop was hard but on the flip side, it did give me a chance to sit back and take it all in. To learn from the greats, see how things are done in Antarctica because as much as a mountain is a mountain and an expedition an expedition, they all have their own nuances and I was loving taking it all in.

I was surprised when a fellow climber from another group moaned about the delay in flying out of Vinson Base Camp. All of the teams, consisting of around 40 climbers in all, had arrived at VBC about an hour apart and it was first in, first out on the Twin Otter flights. The weather was on our side and the schedulers were making the most of getting us back to Union Glacier as quickly as possible but with each flight taking 35 minutes each way plus turn around, I was very happy to do a little waiting. ‘I hate waiting’ they said in all seriousness. I was a bit flummoxed. We were in the most beautiful base camp, surrounded by amazing people and spectacular mountains and would simply be heading back to Union Glacier and a hot meal. She said the same thing the next day before we flew out of UG and back to Chile. I guess some just want it done and dusted and move on, I simply didn’t want to leave.

Now that I’m back at home, with Daisy at my feet waiting for her dinner and Lily snoring away in her bed, my heating is on the blink and I’m sat on the sofa writing this in practically more clothes than I wore in Antarctica wondering why a dry -20 feels so much nicer than a damp 5 degrees. I’m not sure my feet have really touched the ground or that I can comprehend that it’s all over. I was back at training today, with a bump, and looking forward to expeditions to come but there is still so much more to tell you about Vinson. An expedition that I thought was well out of my reach but I grasped it with both hands and held it tight.