Heard Island Historic climbing accounts

[Giddy_up]

I made mention of Heard Island in another post and thought some might like to read the historical accounts of failed and successful attempts at climbing "big ben" and Mawsons Peak. It really highlights the gear used and the type of conditions experienced by early scientists and explorers.

Climbing accounts of Big Ben.pdf

(1.34 MiB) Downloaded 571 times

[Chris]

Many thanks for posting this account G_up. It's great reading, and brings back memories of hearing Warwick Deacock tell of his Heard Island expeditions and others to places like the Karakorams when I was fortunate enough to do 3 treks with him in Nepal in the 1970s. He then ran a trekking organisation called Ausventure. The first of those Nepalese treks prompted me to do the Overland track to get fitter for my second one, and I suppose started me on Tassie bushwalking.

[Giddy_up]

Thanks Chris I'm glad you enjoyed it, it's a great read and gives just a little insight into some of those early days in far flung corners of the globe. Heard Island is probably one of the least trodden places on earth now, a very rare thing and such a beautiful, but vicious place.

[Tony]

Thanks Giddy_up,

A very interesting article, and thanks for posting it.

Somewhere at home I have a first hand account of an attempt to climb Big Ben by some of the expeditioners from the 49/50 ANARE expedition, this might possibly have been the first attempt to climb Big Ben, tonight I will try and find the document and if I can I will post some of the story on this thread.

The article I have was written by John Paddick who landed at Heard Island in 1949, John also was involved in an attempted to be the first to circumnavigation Heard island, John Paddick was a neighbour when I was growing up in Canberra, he was also my fathers best friend and his son was my best friend, sadly both John and son Mark are now deceased.

Tony

[Giddy_up]

Thanks Tony,

To have some more first hand accounts of that expedition by John Paddick would be great to read. Hope you can find it.

G_u

[Son of a Beach]

Just hope the volcano doesn't erupt to much while you're there. It's an active volcano, but it's not clear just how active because nobody sees it most of the time. Some of the eruptions are obvious on satellite photos, while others (like last year, or the year before, I think?) a just guess work based on what appear to be newer lava flows on satellite images.

[Giddy_up]

Just hope the volcano doesn't erupt to much while you're there. It's an active volcano, but it's not clear just how active because nobody sees it most of the time. Some of the eruptions are obvious on satellite photos, while others (like last year, or the year before, I think?) a just guess work based on what appear to be newer lava flows on satellite images.

Here are some interesting photos of nearby McDonald Islands. The first is of the Island in 1980 and shows it well vegetated and of level appearance.

McDonald Islands 1980.jpg (27 KiB) Viewed 10103 times

The second shows the same Island after some significant volcanic activity and the outline in green of the previous island footprint.

McDonald Islands 2003.jpg (41 KiB) Viewed 10103 times

You can see the significant uplift and almost complete loss of vegetation.

[Tony]

This is John Paddick's account of the August 1949 attempt on Big Ben, and as it turned out it was not the first attempt as I thought in my previous post.

After much wheedling, Bob agreed to us mounting an assault on Big Ben should the weather show sufficient promise to give a reasonable prospect of success. This was our ultimate dream. There was not a mountaineer among us but it was difficult to live beneath the towering grandeur of Big Ben without developing a desire to climb.

Actual sightings of the mountaintop were rather rare as it was generally heavily shrouded in clouds. But just occasionally, perhaps half a dozen times since our arrival, the clouds lifted to reveal the glory of Big Ben.

It was not a high mountain by world standards but we were only a small island, just 20 kilometres across, and Big Ben, dominated our landscape. Yet at 9,009 feet it was high by Australian standards and it had not yet been climbed.

We pored over our one and only aerial photograph of the mountain and concluded that by a frontal approach from our base on the shores of Atlas Cove it was quite unclimbable. Long before the summit there were massive buttresses, cliffs covered in ice soaring for a thousand feet and more. To us these presented an insurmountable barrier.

The best approach appeared to be from Long Beach on the southern side of the island almost directly opposite our base. However, as yet no one had been able to reach Long Beach. The surveyors from the previous year had tried without success when they were at Spit Bay nor had they been able to get more than halfway to Long Beach from Atlas Cove.

The only other possible route seemed to be from Atlas Cove across to the Vahsel glacier, over the Abbotsmith glacier climbing fairly steeply for 3 - 4,000 feet then a gentler slope to the peak. A distance of around 22 kms. We wished for more detailed maps but had to be satisfied with what we had.

We kidded ourselves that we were not seeking to climb the mountain for the glory of being the first to do so but for scientific reasons. The mountain was volcanic but it was not known whether it was active or dead. At times we had witnessed wisps of smoke or cloud billowing from the peak, so there was a possibility it was active still.

We were not exactly well equipped for mountaineering or any sort of field trip for that matter. True we had a Nansen sled, crampons for wearing on ice, snowshoes and a limited supply of nylon rope but none of the light weight clothing, tents or sleeping bags which today would be considered essential. Our camp stoves were heavy and most of our food was tinned. Our only tents large enough for more than two persons were Army disposal tents which could not have been heavier.

We had to improvise. We made our own tent, Indian tepee style with bamboo supports. Still heavy but less than half the weight of the army tents and without their cumbersome centre poles.

We made sleeping bags simplicity itself. An army blanket folded in half lengthwise and sewn across the bottom and up the side. Inserted into a groundsheet similarly folded and sewn and hi presto, we had a sleeping bag. Not much padding for sleeping on ice but we were keen and couldn't allow minor obstacles to get in our way.

The tent was just over seven feet in diameter and was barely large enough to contain the five, Tim, Graham, Bob, Reg and I, intending to make the climb. However, the tent size was kept to a minimum to reduce the weight we would have to haul.

We tested our equipment one night in the security of the base camp. Next morning, despite the evidence of red eyes and contorted limbs, we agreed the tent was quite roomy and our sleeping bags very cosy. We were ready to tackle Big Ben.

We packed our ration bags and loaded the sled in readiness for a quick departure and sat back to wait for a favourable weather report. We needed some indication of a fine spell lasting three or four days.

We didn't have long to wait. On Sunday, 14th August, Andy, our Chief Meteorologist, announced all the signs were pointing towards a rare spell of fine weather. We made our final preparations and when Monday dawned fine and calm we lost no time in loading our gear aboard the tractor and heading out across the Nullabor to South West Bay and the foot of the Vahsel glacier which was to be our kick-off point.

By 8.45 a.m. we had crossed the moraine and climbed up on to the Vahsel. There was a good cover of firm snow and in snowshoes we were making good progress. Three pulled the sled while the other two trailed behind to steady it over snow drifts and the occasional small crevasse.

Two hours later and we had crossed the Vahsel. We had climbed to a height of around 400 metres and were now above Cape Gazert. At this point we had reached a second glacier flowing down to the coast between Cape Gazert and Walsh Bluff. This glacier was later to be named the 'Allison' after Bob.

We rested here for a snack and revelled in glorious sunshine. Andy's forecast had been right on the button. There were just a few clouds and from this height we could look back to the northwest and see the whole of the Laurens Peninsular laid out before us. It was a glorious view looking over to the rugged west coast and the magnificent peaks of Olsen, Anzac and Dixon.

Hauling the sled was warm work and we took the opportunity to divest ourselves of much of our clothing. Although the temperature was around -8° in bright sunshine and calm conditions we were not in the least bit cold.

We stayed at the 400 metres level crossing the Allison as we needed to pass below an ice buttress which came down to that level and separated the Allison from the Abbotsmith glacier. It didn't take us long to cross the Allison.

The Abbotsmith proved a much tougher proposition. We now had to commence climbing again. As we climbed we passed beyond snow to wind swept ice. We changed from snowshoes to the much less comfortable crampons. As the slope became steeper, hauling the sled became much more difficult forcing us to rest more frequently.

[Tony]

By 2.30 p.m. we had climbed to 850 metres. We still had brilliant sunshine and although we were puffing and the temperature of course dropped as we climbed, all about us was the most magnificent scenery. To our left we looked down on the rugged grandeur of the North West cornice, the massive buttress separating the Schmidt and Vahsel glaciers. Below that looking diminutive was Mt Drygalski, our favourite ski slope. Behind us the entire Laurens Peninsular with its outline oddly reminiscent of South America. Below we could make out the various bluffs and capes scattered along the west coast, while above we could at last see the saddle between Davis Dome and Mawson Peak, the two highest points on the mountain.

If we progressed no further we could never forget the glory of that view. The sun bouncing off the ice kept us warm and we relaxed for a few minutes soaking up the scene.

We couldn't credit our good luck at being up here during one of the sunniest spells encountered during our stay on the Island. Undoubtedly this was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen. We were all excited and vying with each other to point out features we recognised.

The travel was now much more difficult. We had entered an area where pressure ice and crevasses were prevalent. It required all our exertions to lift the sled over some of the obstructions. Yet our prospects were looking good as about 1.5 kms ahead was the beginning of what appeared to be a fairly gentle slope leading to the saddle.

The next hour really tested us. It was taking the combined effort of all of us to keep the sled moving. We were forced to cut steps in the ice, drive in a piton and winch the sled up over the steeper stretches. I doubt that we made much better than 500 metres or gained more than 150 metres in height during that hour. It certainly would have been much easier without a sled if we had had light weight camping equipment and could have used back packs.

By 3.30 P.M. we seemed over the worst of it. The slope was flattening out a little and we started to pick up speed. However, our luck was beginning to run out. At 3.45 P.m. a breeze sprung up compelling us to quickly don the clothing we had previously doffed. The breeze was quickly followed by cloud which was soon swirling around us. Visibility was soon reduced to almost zero.

We pressed on upwards for as long as we could and gained another 2 or 3 hundred metres. We were now tantalisingly close to the snow slope leading to the saddle which we had seen earlier but more crevasses across our path forced us to call a halt. We pitched camp. The practice back at Atlas Cove produced good dividends and the tent was erected and our gear stowed within 15 minutes.

The wind was still increasing and was now up to 20 knots and with the temperature down to –12°, we were not slow in seeking the shelter of the tent. We soon had cooking a stew of tinned steak and dehydrated vegetables. The heat from the stove raised the temperature inside the tent and with generous helpings of hot stew inside us, we were feeling very comfortable.

The ice we were camped on appeared to give out a wonderful diffused blue light and while it was now impossible to distinguish anything outside the tent, inside it was quite light. It was even possible to read by the light.

Once the meal was over and we had secured our gear outside we began to bed down for the night. It was still early but it had been a strenuous day and we were tired. Also with the stove extinguished it was getting colder and we would be warmer in our sleeping bags.

Bedding down proved to be quite a lengthy process. There was room for only one person at a time to climb into his sleeping bag. Reg, slim and athletic, started proceedings and was soon snug within his bag thus making a convenient bench for Graham, Tim and I to sit on while Bob struggled into his.

Bob was by far the stoutest. In addition to the clothing he had worn back at Atlas Cove, he now had on windproof trousers and an anorak. No matter how he pushed and struggled he couldn't squeeze into his bag. His legs went in O.K. but he just couldn't get the bag up over his hips. Forced with either removing his anorak or leaving his torso outside the sleeping bag, he chose the latter and finally rolled on to his side.

It was my turn next. Even in my anorak I had no difficulty in slipping completely into my bag. Likewise Graham had no trouble in getting into his bag and rolling over. Being skinny had its advantages.

Tim was last. By this time there was barely six inches left along the outside for Tim who being the shortest had been given the outside berth. Tim is not easily discouraged. He managed to get into his bag while laying crosswise over the four of us. He then proceeded by dint of much wriggling and squirming he managed to roll into the narrow end space and exert sufficient pressure to gain a fair share of the room.

The whole process of going to bed had occupied an hour. I doubt that sardines could have been tighter packed but at least it helped to keep us warm. We had had an exhausting day and despite the discomfort of our position we slept soundly for much of the night.

With just a single blanket and groundsheet between us and the ice it might be expected that we would sleep little but this was not so. Instead it was almost 7 a.m. before we woke up. Visibility outside was zero so we stayed in our sleeping bags munching dried fruits and discussing our situation. We remained there for another hour until finally forced out by calls of nature.

Getting up proved to be almost as time consuming as going to bed. I was first up and as soon as I had relieved myself I took the temperature. It was –22°. The tent had a thick layer of ice inside and snow outside.

[Tony]

By 9 a.m. the light had improved a little and I sought to take advantage of this to take a photograph of the camp. I moved back about eight feet from the tent to line it up in the camera lens. I was too close. I took a step backwards and was horrified to hear a dull plop. I knew what this signified and threw myself forward and rolled towards the tent. When I had recovered my nerve and turned around I was shocked to see I had broken through a snow bridge over a crevasse. I crawled to the edge and some 20 or 30 metres below was a ledge with the pile of snow from the bridge that had fallen with a plop.

While this was happening, on the other side of the tent Graham answering a call of nature had a similar experience. It transpired we had camped on a ridge of ice between two yawning crevasses. But for instinctive reaction Graham and I could well have been at the bottom of those crevasses with grim prospects of rescue even had we survived the falls.

By the time the others had finished extracting themselves from their sleeping bags the weather had closed in once more and visibility was again back to zero. We made ourselves another hot meal and debated our situation. Clearly we could not risk going on upwards over unknown ground in zero visibility, nor did we savour remaining where we were after Graham's and my experience. Reluctantly we came to the conclusion there was no alternative to retracing our steps to where we could camp on a better site a kilometre away if the weather showed signs of improving. If there was no improvement we would have to return to Atlas Cove.

Having decided to strike camp, I found myself quite unable to move. During our breakfast the heat from the stove had caused the ice inside the tent to melt. During our discussion I had leaned back against the tent and when the stove was shut down the ice had reformed and I was firmly frozen to the tent. It took the combined efforts of Bob and Reg to free me.

By 11.30 a.m. we had struck camp, packed our sled and turned back down the mountain. The first kilometre was very ticklish and had us rather worried. It seemed more difficult holding the sled going down than it had been hauling it up. We were concerned that it would get away from us and go plunging into a crevasse. We were more aware of the danger now and proceeded very carefully.

The weather had not improved so we decided to go all the way back to base. Having made the decision, we lightened the sled by making a cache of fuel and food in anticipation of another assault in the future. From then on, progress was swifter and as we came down visibility slowly improved. It never became good but at least we could see for 15 or 20 yards ahead and could spot crevasses before we reached them. Even with the lighter load the sled was still difficult to restrain and we now had just one in front with the other four braking from the rear.

Once off the Abbotsmith we levelled off and picked up speed. We were quickly over the Allison and back on to the more familiar territory of the Vahsel glacier. Here we reached a trot and were back into snowshoes. We were glad to take off the crampons as they can be pretty rough on your feet as they had to be thumped down to obtain a firm purchase in ice and the constant thumping was jarring on the feet.

We reached the foot of the Vahsel just on night fall and left the sled there to be collected by tractor later. It was a disappointed, dejected and tired group plodding back in the dark along the beach of South West Bay, around Mt Drygalski and across the Nullabor to our home. It was a distance of six or seven kilometres but few words were spoken in the 90 minutes it took us to cover the distance.

We had failed in our attempt to climb the mountain. Sure, we had reached higher than the previous party but this was little solace. Nevertheless, the decision to abandon our attempt proved wise as the cloud did not lift from the mountain during the remainder of the month. I guess it was better to have tried and failed than never to have tried at all and we did have the memory of the spectacular views we had during those few brief hours of sunshine.

The station on Heard Island was closed in 1955 and Big Ben remained undefeated. It was not until some years later when the advent of lightweight equipment eliminated need of a sled that a private party succeeded in reach the summit.

[Giddy_up]

Tony thank you for adding this expedition report, it truly is an amazing piece of Australia's history that is seldom known. Remarkable photos and the near miss on the crevasse is just luck on the day, what an epic journey.

G_u

[South_Aussie_Hiker]

Thanks for sharing. A great read.

[climberman]

Thanks guys, great reading.

[Tony]

The whole 66 page document is a very good read, and along with the 249 black and white photos it gives a very good snapshot of what life was like on Heard Island in 1949.

Below is a little bit about how the photos were developed.

Ossie was our photographic expert and spent much of May developing and printing our snaps. Unfortunately when we left Australia film had been in very short supply and in the main we had to use RAAF film from war surplus disposals. This was not the most ideal film as it was out-of-date and had been manufactured specifically for use by the RAAF for high speed reconnaissance work. The film had to be cut down and loaded into cassettes by us and I suspect this handling did little to improve its quality.

We were short of fresh water and had to use the sea for washing the negatives. Ossie was a common sight down in the cove standing up to his waist in a pair of waders washing film in a sieve. It wasn't the most comfortable job as even in waders and with heavy socks and trousers underneath it was still very chilly and a watchful eye had to be kept for any marauding leopard seals. Ossie didn't appear to mind and seemed to get a real kick out of distributing the finished photographs. It took a lot of patience to produce reasonable copies under such crude conditions but Ossie didn't seem to mind how much time he spent making them. It was particularly difficult for him to keep the developing solutions at the correct temperature.

Tony

[DarrenM]

Great reading Tony, thanks.

[icefest]

Thanks for this incredible story Tony.


I can't help but think stories like this would fit in incredibly well into the BWA Emag.