With ski & sledge over Arctic glaciers

by Sir William Martin Conway

Once really in the couloir, step-cutting became necessary, at first mere slicing of the frozen snow, but all too soon laborious hacking into hard blue ice. We kept close to the rocks and could sometimes advance a step or two by jamming the foot into the crack between rocks and ice. Such relief was rare. I calculated that Garwood cut altogether five hundred ice-steps in the couloir. This does not include snow-steps below it or on the final ridge. Garwood made them small and far apart, whilst I enlarged them into regular shelves to last against our return. The view, when we turned round to look at it in breathing intervals, was restricted, for the walls of the couloir shut out everything except the prospect over the cloud-covered ocean, which remained from hour to hour bathed in the pink light of sunset or sunrise. The sun flung the blue shadow of our peak far out upon the cloud-floor. When we were fairly high up, the shadow of the summit became tipped with red, which, as we mounted higher, developed into a series of four concentric rainbows, apparently lying on the clouds in the remote distance and haloing the shadow of the peak. This effect, as may well be believed, was remarkable enough; but even more unusual, to my eyes, was the appearance of what I can only describe as two radiantly white roads of brightness, stretching directly away from us straight out to the horizon, one on either side of the mountain’s shadow, and each making an angle of about 37°, with a line from the eye to the centre of the rainbows, or 143° round from the sun. All the rest of the cloud-floor was still mottled in blue and pink, though the pink was now growing faint, and the general tone was becoming blue-grey; the two “roads” alone were snow-white by contrast.

The higher we rose the steeper was the couloir, the harder the ice, and the greater the cold. The distance from the glacier below steadily increased; to look down upon it was like looking down a wall. The distance to the skyline above did not seem to diminish correspondingly. We came to the point where Garwood had led his companions on to the rocks last year. We, however, kept on up the ice. Then we were level with last year’s highest. It had been estimated at about eighty feet below the summit, as far as the fog enabled a guess to be made; now in perfectly clear air we saw that very much more than eighty feet remained to be climbed. A strip of rocks, above on our right, descended into the couloir from the final snow arête at its top. We cut a long staircase diagonally across to them up a yet steeper ice-slope than any before. They proved to be nothing worse than rather steep screes encumbered with ice. We scrambled up them to the final ridge, a real knife-edge of snow of the giddiest description, for on the other side the mountain wall plunged vertically, as it seemed, 3000 feet down into the floor of cloud below. Here we entered the sunshine, and the view toward Edges Land burst upon us, but we scarcely looked at it. There was not a cloud in the sky; we should see it better from the top, and to that our attention was anxiously turned. It was still 100 feet above our heads. A thread-like snow-ridge of astonishing delicacy led steeply up to the final tooth of rock. Carefully we advanced, planting our feet on the very crest of the ridge, which had to be trodden down before it was broad enough to stand upon. Here and there overhanging cornices had to be avoided; but only care was required, there was no real difficulty. In a few minutes we touched the foot of the summit rock. It was a plumb vertical wall, perhaps fifteen feet high. I suppose we might have climbed straight up it, but an easier way was found. The rock was cloven in half from top to bottom by a crack just wide enough to squeeze through sideways if we expelled our breath and made ourselves thin. On the other side of it was a ledge giving easy access to the highest point, on which we laid our hands with a great feeling of joy. The ascent had taken five hours from the foot of the couloir.

To express the beauty of the view that now surrounded us surpasses my powers. A bare statement of its character and extent is all that I shall attempt to set down. The lowlands, bays, and wide glaciers were alike buried beneath the floor of cloud, so that much of the geographical information which else might have been obtained was withheld. Only in the south-east was there any sea or coast-line visible, an appearance of low-lying flat land, which may indeed have been merely a shadow upon water. The whole of Edges Land was in cloud, but Barents Land was sharp and clear, with all its peaks quite distinct and easy of identification, had one but known what to identify. Here, too, the waters of Wybe Jans Water were disclosed with the sunshine lying brightly upon them, and the long east coast of Spitsbergen leading in that direction. Everywhere else were only peaks rising like golden islands out of a silver sea. A row of such, the tops of a range of hills, ran close by us down the middle of the land towards the South Cape. In the north was a chaos of peaks, those near at hand lying in north and south rows, but the remoter ones dotted about on no discoverable plan. We identified the peaks about Bell Sound, and Mount Starashchin at the mouth of Ice Fjord, but of hills more remote we could be sure of none. So much for the distance and background of the view; its great glory, however, was in the craggy ridge of Horn Sunds Tind itself, along which we looked both to north and south. Southward it sank rapidly, but in the opposite direction it reared itself into successive jagged peaks rising out of a narrow zigzag ridge of precipitous rock. Alas! we were not on the highest point; that was now seen to be the splendid needle further north, divided from Mount Hedgehog by a deep gap, and perhaps surpassing it in height by as much as forty feet. All the rocks of this glorious ridge were covered with ice-feathers, whereon the sun shone with great brilliancy, whilst a bold shadow clothed the whole west face of the mountain. The zigzagging of the ridge brought the bright and shadowed sides into alternate prominence, and led the eye agreeably along to the sudden jut of the culminating needle. How beautifully this wonderful group of bold, snow-decked crags was enframed by the bright effulgence of the cloudy sea and its emergent islands any one can imagine better than I can say. The effect on the spectator was heightened by the sense of standing high and alone, for, save along the knife-edged ridge, the mountain fell from our feet with such utter abruptness as to seem everywhere vertical, so that we had the sensation of looking from a balloon rather than of standing upon the solid earth.

We now observed that a very fine range of peaks, striking inland northward from the west side of Horn Sound’s north bay, is the orographical continuation of Horn Sunds Tind, the sound itself having been cut right through this ridge. No visitor to Horn Sound can fail to notice the remarkable end peak of this ridge, which rises from the sea, a rock-blade of the narrowest description, one side very steep, the other plumb-vertical. Numberless birds nest in the lower part of its cliffs, inaccessible alike to men and foxes.

Tearing ourselves away from the summit and its entrancing view, when at last we were almost frozen stiff, we retreated a few yards down the east face into a little hollow, sheltered from the wind and open to the tepid sun. There a frugal luncheon was eaten and pipes duly smoked, and there we left our cards in a crack, for there were no loose stones out of the snow wherewith to build a cairn, nor, if there had been any, was there room enough on the summit for a cairn to stand. In such raw atmosphere, however, motion is needful for enjoyment, so that neither of us was unwilling to commence the descent. Garwood’s notion of traversing the whole length of Mount Hedgehog’s summit-ridge to its north end and descending by another west arête from that point was silently abandoned. With the mountain in good condition it might be accomplished and enjoyed, but the iced rocks made the attempt not worth consideration. By the way that we came up by the same must we return.

Trotting down the arête to the top of the ice-covered screes was easy enough, but from that point the greatest care was required. Both of us afterwards confessed that we looked forward with trepidation to the descent of these screes, for they were very steep, very loose, and slippery with powdered uncompacting ice. Descents, however, are generally worse in prospect than in actuality, and this was no exception. We hardly realised where the bad place was till it had been passed; but at the foot of the rocks there lurked a quite unforeseen perplexity. Our beautiful ice-staircase had so completely disappeared that for some time we could not discover its position. The steep snow-covered ice-slope was absolutely smooth. No visible inequality broke the evenness of its white surface. With some difficulty I found our old footsteps on the rocks. Standing in them and leaning downward, whilst Garwood held the rope, I probed in all directions for the topmost ice-step. It seemed as though an entirely new staircase would have to be cut. But at last luck revealed the missing hole, which, like all the rest below, was filled up and smoothed over by snow-dust and ice-fragments that had fallen into it. I cleared it out and began the descent. The next step was similarly masked and had to be sought and cleared, though, of course, its position was more easily found. The steps, having been cut as far apart as we could stride, were difficult to reach down to, nor did we venture to tread down a pace till the exact position of the foothold had been discovered. Sometimes new steps had to be cut because the old ones were beyond reach of the axe. It was interesting work which prevented the return from being monotonous, but rendered progress rather slow. When the bergschrund was approached difficulties were at an end. We looked back and found the summit again enveloped in cloud, whilst the sea-fog below was steadily rising. Before we had quitted the rocks of the peaklet at the foot of the ridge we were well into the dense mist, where, in a few yards, we promptly lost our way and had to appeal to the compass for direction. Garwood’s cairn was reached a few minutes later, and our remaining provisions were consumed under its shelter. The descent to camp was without incident. Tired and hungry, we reached it after an absence of fourteen hours, and were delighted to find that the violence of the waves had abated.

It may be of interest to Alpine climbers to compare this ascent with that of some known peak in the Alps. The height of the mountain from the foot of the glacier is about 4500 feet. From the bergschrund at the foot of the couloir to the top is about 3000 feet. The ascent, therefore, from the point where the climb commences is somewhat longer than, and happens to be very similar in character to, the corresponding part of the ascent of the Aiguille Verte[14] in the Mont Blanc range, made by way of the south-east couloir. Horn Sunds Tind, indeed, may be compared in other respects with the Verte group. Mount Hedgehog represents the Verte itself, the west arête corresponds to the Moine ridge, whilst the highest northern needle resembles the Dru, both in position and in form. Some day, no doubt, it will be climbed, though I scarcely think Garwood and I shall return to climb it. Horn Sound appears to be a bad weather region, and we have had enough of its inhospitable shores.

About 7.30 P.M., after a good sleep, we awoke to find the most glorious drama of colour playing for us upon the sound. Already, through ten hours of every night, when thin clouds covered the sky, marvellous long-drawn-out sunset effects brooded over the southern extremity of Spitsbergen. Day by day they were creeping further north, heralds of the long winter night. What we saw that evening was no ordinary sunset of the temperate regions merely extended in duration, but such a sombre splendour as might fitly usher in the fiery consummation of the world. The hidden sun, level with a low, thin roof of cloud, shone both upon its upper and lower surfaces, painting the underside a ruddy brown. Peculiar and unexpected reflections made lights in strange places. The mountains were dark chocolate or rich purple in colour. Lighter chocolate were the glaciers. The fjord was dark-green, shot with pink reflections from above. Away beyond the sea was a belt of clear sky beneath the cloud-roof. Overhead, pink clouds, rent and twisted by some high gale, writhed in an island of blue in the upper regions of the air. New snow whitened the lower hill-slopes. Chilly blasts came and passed, telling of the winter that was at hand.

Late in the evening we breakfasted and packed up camp. Soon after midnight the boat was easily launched in the calm bay. It was our intention to row to the far side of the head of the sound, where there were rocks that Garwood thought might prove worth examination. No sooner, however, was the point of Goose Bay rounded than a strong wind from the north-east met us, against which we could not make headway. Close at hand was a little cove, well protected by rocks, and there we were compelled to land, just forty-eight hours before the steamer was to call and fetch us away.