27 Feb: Weather turning in the Drakes Passage

Position 60 south about 63 west. The Drakes Passage

Alan here: Chris and I now have recovered from our bought of seasickness.
Once again I was first on board to be sick, probably only a couple of hours
into the passage. The swell has been bigger than on the way down so I think
about half of the folks apart from the crew have been sick. A change of
seasickness tablets to Penergan has made a big difference but makes you very
drowsy. Not necessarily a bad thing.

The boat is now swinging though almost ninety degrees on the bigger waves.
We have about 30 to 40 knots of wind from just aft on the starboard side, so
the foresail and mizzen staysail have gone up. These are the front sails on
both masts. We are no longer motoring so a great whoop went up when the
engines were switched off. First time in the boat we have moved without the
engines on. Proper sailing.

The weather is set to deteriorate. We already have sleet driving across the
decks and falling off the sails in large clumps. The barometer is dropping
with our super skipper, Steve talking about 45 to 50 knot of winds. My beau
fort scale is a bit rough but I think that is around Gale Force 10. But our
82 foot yacht has seen much more and as weighs in at 80 tons is very rugged.
Much so that the softies sailing in it.

As I type Alison is struggling to make lunch in a galley that is rolling
wildly. We have already heard plates fall and smash on the floor which is
slick with grease from a previous spillage. Not a fun place to be. Dan came
up from his slumber to unwisely enter the saloon with socks on. The boat
swung wildly, knocking him over and slid around the wooden floor several
times as the waves tossed the boat around.

Sorry for no photos for the other day or for the next couple as, I hope you
can imagine, even just typing this dispatch is tricky enough.

Feb 25th - Last day, skiing and skinny dipping

Position: 64 19' South 62 59' West, Melchior Islands, anchored before
crossing the Drake Passage

Chris here: This may well be our last blog from Antarctica as the weather forecast for the Drake Passage looks favourable and Steve the skipper has indicated that we may well start our journey across the worst seas in the world this evening or tomorrow morning. We have anchored for dinner and Steve will decide after dinner whether to set off or wait. This may sound odd as we may well be back in South America 5 or 6 days ahead of schedule.
However, we have to take account of weather and look for good weather windows to cross the Drake Passage.

This morning was a late breakfast and as the weather was fine this was frustrating for me personally as my knee felt better and I was desperate to get out and do something. The guides were keen to have a quiet day but once everyone else was awake we had a team discussion and decided that everyone was keen to do something on our last day here. We planned to look for a
beach where some could watch penguins and the rest of us could go for a ski tour. We soon found the ideal spot on Ronge Island, bolted down and early lunch and readied our kit. Tamsin the chef cum physiotherapist strapped my knee to minimise the risk of any further injury. Murray, the first mate/engineer of the Evohe accompanied us for the skiing expedition. Murray is a "character" and I mean that in the nicest possible way. He has brought with him cross country skis which are 30 years old, allied with his leather boots, wool jumper, old fashioned long johns, beard and cheeky grin he looks like he belongs to the heroic age of Antarctic exploration. The only incongruous item are his extremely up to date mirror ski goggles. It was great to have Murray with us as he is invariably cheerful.

We set off through a Gentoo penguin colony as ever moving carefully to minimise disturbance. A difficult climb up the first proper terminal moraine we have seen brought us to red snow where we started skinning up the glacier. Today we were not roped up - actually this was bizarre as there were some very deep crevasses but we managed to cross safely skiing up to a col at 510 metres. Skiing down from here was great in perfect corn snow.
Mark Sedon explained to us that anyone who crossed anyone else's tracks would owe them a beer. The result was great set of turns down a virgin slope side by side. Except!......Murray was having trouble with his antique skis and crossed everyone's tracks several times - we forgave him the fine on account of his antique skis.

The descent through the crevassed area at the bottom of the glacier was simple except when crossing one particularly deep crevasse which was about one foot wide at the top, Alan decided to jump the crevasse, unfortunately he mistimed the jump and managed to chip off a section of the lip which widened the crevasse for those following. Everyone crossed safely and
finished our last few turns through red snow, coloured by algae.

A short walk through the penguin colony brought us to our last dinghy ride back to the Evohe. On arrival, Mark Bryan, Arne, Al and I decided that as the weather was so nice we should have a swim before we left Antarctica. We were persuaded to jump in to the almost freezing water (1.2 degrees Celsius) naked - skinny dipping. We were in the water for a very short period of
time but found it "invigorating" and a fun way to finish our time in Antarctica.

It's now after dinner and Steve has decided that we will set sail tomorrow at 6 am for Puerto Williams in Chile. Given our experience of seasickness on the way down, you may not be hearing from Al or I for the next few days depending on how rough the Drake passage proves to be. We will be asking for a couple of guest writers to keep the blog going and give their impressions of our trip to this fascinating continent.

24 Feb update: Biggest climb of the trip

Position: Errera Channel, 64 45.4' South 62 39.2' West (Google earth
s64.45,w62.39)

Alan here: we had 10 hours out in the mountain yesterday so came back too
tired to do my side of the blog, currently lying in my cramped bunk this
morning just chilling and typing. The plan for yesterday was to have an
early start, 5 am, by far the earliest on the the trip. So I was glad in a
way that, the guides postponed the start twice in the morning due to lack of
visibility. However, the previous night's revelling, the rocking of the boat
and grinding noise of the icebergs hitting us several times in the night
meant that I was whacked come breakfast. Fortunately, I had fully organised
the night before so just had to get dressed and feed myself.

Even as I stepped in to the Zodiac, have stopped calling them RIBs as only
Chris knows what I am talking about, I was still noticeably subdued. Above
us the cloud level was about 1500 feet maybe lower and with our previous
experience of not getting up anything when we could not see, it was hard to
get with the moment. Even starting a day by boat cruising around icebergs
and being surrounded by one hundred to three hundred foot ice cliffs failed
to wrestle me from my torpor.

Our landing was on shattered rock which after only a few meters became steep
and hard snow ice. The cold morning air in my lungs as my body crept up the
slope in front, motored my circulation and finally cleared my head. Here I
was about to climb a virgin peak in Antarctica with a group of, now,
friends. I felt really disappointed for Chris, suck in Evohe with what
looked like a really sore knee. His decision not to come must have been very
difficult but as is typical of Chris, he thought of others before himself.
It would have been very time consuming and quite a pain should he get an
hour into the climb and then have to give up because there would have been
no option but for the folk on his rope to go with him all the way back
again.

At the top of the steep snow-ice slope we stopped and changed the spacing
between today's rope team of Luis and the American Dan. We had moved
together on a short rope for the initial slope and as the angle eased
changed mode, to glacier travel, with approx five metres between us. We are
becoming quite slick at "mode changing". However, only about 50 metres
around the corner the team ahead had stopped once more, the soft sugary snow
forcing a change to snow shoes. So another stop for a gear change. Crampons
off and packed away, snowshoes unpacked and put on. Ice axe away, walking
sticks out. Stop and start travel like this digs at my patience and with the
cloud drifting lower I felt that today would be a frustrating one, also,
this was the first time on the rope with Dan and as he is the quietest of
the gang of clients I was not expecting much of the merriment, sarcasm and
general micky taking that makes the long walks become fun and go quicker.

Still all this negativity that had crept in was pushed to the side as the
rhythm of snowshoeing kicked in, the breathing and heart rate rise then
settle and give a chance to take in the views. We were crossing a gently
undulating glacier formed by many other glaciers falling steeply from a
cirque of mountains that as ever drop finally to the sea. The quality of
light on all this ice seems especially varied when the sun is trying to
break through the wispy cloud. Across our horizon we had blue light, all the
greys and at the points where the sun broke through, yellows and oranges.
Unfortunately, no camera can capture the grandeur of the situation through
its inadequate lens, so I often think of trying to capture these memories
with my mental video camera.

Mark Sedon, the New Zealand guide was leading, quite a bit in front of our
team and did an amazing job of finding a route across the glacier, avoiding
sometimes enormous cracks in the ice, called crevasses, or slots to the
Kiwis. This often means zig zagging to cross them at their narrowest points
and maybe back tracking having gone down a dead end. At one point we crossed
a snow bridge over a crevasse probably three meters wide, and unfathomly
deep. This is when we really focus on keeping the rope tight between us as
the theory is that if someone goes down a hole, then a tight rope will stop
them going much further than their waist. During the trip we have all had
this experience. Maybe just up to knee depth, or thigh deep. Gerry went into
his waist. It just feels like putting your foot into very deep soft snow
that doesn't hold your weight. There is no fear just the struggle to
extricate your self with heavy rucksack pinning you down.

The cloud was lifting along with my spirits although we could still not see
our summit, but before us was our first obstacle. The snow steepened to a
rock band the steep snow slopes above raising to the cloud. Time for another
change of mode as snowshoes off, crampons and ice tools out and Luis ran
out the full length of rope to start pitching. First to the foot of the rock
band then up a rock gully. Climbing on bare rock in crampons is easier than
it may sound once you get used to standing on just one or two points and
trusting your weight to your feet. This was not particularly steep but with
the rocks loosened from years of melt-freeze shattering and no previous
ascents a great deal of care was required not to knock rocks down on those
below. After two pitches the steepness relented and we were back to moving
together until the rock band ended and it was now for the snow slope. We
could not make out how far it went as it disappeared into the mist. Luis
decided to pitch it but in reality at around 50 degrees, Dan and I were
happy to move together, this would have saved a great deal of time. Although
we have slowly become used to the guide client relationship it still grates
and it was no surprise to anyone that Dan and I should start talking about
the removal of our personal experience and ability to make decisions from
the whole climbing experience. Anyway, the tope tightened and we followed up
sugary snow. Another pitch, of now deeper sugary snow, then half way up the
next pitch good firm snow-ice appeared. Climbers call this ideal substance
neve something we have had very little of on this trip but it lasted all too
short as the slope steepened up towards the cornice. Probably getting to 70
degrees and front pointing required. We broke though the cornice at its
weakest point and from then on moved together into what had become full
Scottish winter conditions. To those unfamiliar with this delight, it
involves climbing in cloud, wind and snow. Visibility was about 20 meters
and with the white of the cloud merging with the white of the snow a real
test for the eyes. At one point Luis called us to stop as he had completely
lost the horizon, meaning he could no longer tell land from sky. This is
potentially lethal as we could easily have walked over a cornice. However, a
readjustment of his sunglasses and a look around, he renewed his bearings
and we continued to head upwards with the wind increasing all the time. I
pulled my face mask and heavy gloves on for the first time in the trip.
Quite the reverse of what I had imagined Antarctic temperatures to be.

In true Scottish style we just kept walking upwards on the basis that once
we start walking down we will have reached the top. However, much care is
required as there are no maps of this area so we could not know what was
ahead, there is always crevasse danger and down here the cornices can be
hugely overhung. We finally caught up with Mark's rope as he disappeared
into the mist, running the rope out. As we prepared a belay we heard a shout
that he had reached the summit. So by running out one and a half rope lengths
we too hit the top. However, in the rising wind and driving snow, this was
no place to linger and savour what would have been more of the incredible
views we have enjoyed so much. In less time than it takes you to read this,
we had shaken hands taken two photos of each other and roped back down,
passing Guy's team on the way up.

Our descent line followed that of ascent, with the snow face proving the
only real danger but being belaying all the way down, although often quite
unnecessarily, at least guaranteed a safe descent. Just when there was a
risk of complacency creeping in, a stone was accidentally loosened by the
rope, crashing down the snow, gathering speed as it headed towards where
Rewa and Andrew where belayed. It hit the rock band just above them,
bouncing unpredictably into the air with the crack of gunshot. They ducked
out of the way as it shot passed them. A timely reminder that here in
Antarctica with the nearest hospital 800 miles away, a little incident could
quickly become one of utmost seriousness. With nerves a little jangled we
picked our way down the loose rock with care, finally reaching the lower
snow slopes without further incident.

All was left was a two hour snow shoe back to, what had now become a norm,
pick up by the Zodiac in an ice - choked bay, then onward to the Evohe; a
feast waiting for us and, of course, several red wines.

We have now picked up so many first ascents that even the novelty of naming
the peak had worn off sufficiently that it was surprisingly not talked
about. All the talk now is of a window in the weather that will allow the
"jump" across the Drake Passage. This could be as soon as Saturday night or
Sunday. So in all likelihood today was the last step on the Antarctic
mainland.

February 24th Rest for Chris, Climbing for Al

Position: Errera Channel, 64 45.4' South 62 39.2' West

Chris here: Unfortunately yesterday I must have strained something in my
left knee as when I woke up this morning I felt that a big day in the hills
was beyond the capabilities of my knee. Crossing crevasses and walking up
glaciers roped up is not really conducive to just popping back the yacht
after and hour. This would be seriously inconvenient for the other climbers
on the rope. Hopefully a day of rest will allow me to rejoin the climbing
expeditions tomorrow.

Yesterday's time watching penguins and seals was fantastic. Sitting quietly
for a few moments on a rock the penguins ignored you completely and went
about their everyday business. I saw a parent penguin feeding it's fluffy chick "fish soup". The pair were constantly hassled by two Skuas who seemed intent on distracting the parent to regurgitate in their direction and get a
free meal. Both the parent and chick had to chase away the cheeky scavengers. Once dinner was over the parent started to move away from the
chick but was chased and "body checked" by the chick in an effort to get extra helpings. Skuas ugly, aggressive, picking on weak penguin chicks and they also act as the "refuse executives" of the Antarctic Peninsula, scavenging and fearlessly trying to pinch anything they think may be food.
While we were preparing some crevasse rescue lessons, Skuas were pecking at climbing ropes, trying to pick up ice axes (really!) and investigating our ruck sacks. This is all within 3 meters of a group of climbers - perhaps
they are privy to the protocols on avoiding disturbing wildlife and have decided that they can take advantage of our powerlessness. Having said that I can't imagine what a skua would want with an climbing rope or ice axe.

As Alan has already said the very short walk to the top of Cuverville Island provided great views all around. Several of us had planned to camp on the snow of Cuverville. This would have been a bit like camping in the back garden as dinner would have been on the Evohe. The prospect of a little bit of adventure was still attractive - watching an Antarctic sunset from the
tent would have been great. Perhaps not so great would have been being kept awake by penguins and hungry chicks searching for each other in the nearby rookery. However it was decided that in view of the probable early start and to minimise any impact on the nearby penguin rookery we would defer this until another night - not so close to a rookery.

During the night we were anchored in what became apparent was a strong current as we had several collisions with icebergs. As all the cabins are on the waterline an iceberg hitting and then scraping down the side of the yacht is a big and scary noise. This has happened several nights over the course of the voyage but last night was the loudest and most disturbing of
all. Over breakfast Steve, our skipper, was very relaxed about the whole event and as it turns out justifiably - there was not even a scratch in the paintwork despite all the crashing and scraping.I have spent today, resting my knee having, first thing this morning, sought
the expert medical opinion of Mark, our resident vet, which fortunately coincided with the advice of Tamsin, one of our chefs and fully qualified physiotherapist. Andrew and Nicky also decided not to climb today so we have all had a relaxing day, chatting and watching videos of Antarctica.

Time spent on deck watching penguins "porpoising" past on their way to finding lunch for their chicks, seeing seals swimming around and Minke whales which come to investigate the yacht whenever the engines or generator were started was a rewarding way to pass the time.

23 Feb: Penguins, training and danger peak

Location: Errera Channel

Alan here:

I am keeping this brief because we have an epic guest dispatch but more of
that later. Today we had a great time, just chilling really, out in a
penguin colony which also had a few seals scattered about. Particularly,
good was the chance to space ourselves out. With the sun out the glaciers
and the mountains it was astounding to just sit right in the middle of a
Gentoo colony and watch their various antics. Some lie as if dead or at
least I presume sunbathing. Some waddle up from the sea or down to the sea.
The young ones chase their parents trying to get food, meanwhile the large
brown Skuas hang around checking out for unhealthy Penguins or trying to
scare the parent into disgorging the food from its crop that is destined for
the chick.

We also went up a wee hill which gave us fantastic view of the big peaks
that hopefully we will manage to climb tomorrow. As it was a round hump of a
hill we decided, with irony, to call it danger peak. Tomorrow is an early
start but the guides have all now caught the cold that I initially brought
on board and has been doing the rounds, so not sure what we will achieve.
Hopefully the weather will stay good.

Anyway, we now have a guest dispatch from one of our very hard working crew,
Tamsin, who along with Alison, Chloe, and Murray (Muzza) manage a miracle
every night by producing fantastic food in very difficult conditions. They
also look after the boat, make breakfast and when we are on board, lunch.
They tidy up and do countless other duties that make out life so much
easier. So I hope you enjoy this the story of this trip from another
perspective, over to Tamsin.

Tamsin here:

Hi there, I've been kindly asked by Al and Chris to give you all a different perspective of this trip. just a bit of background first, Chloe, Alison and
Murray sailed the boat with Steve from New Zealand leaving in September whilst I flew into Ushuaia joining the boat just a week before the charter, although I first joined the boat 6 years ago, so I knew what I was in for.
There is always a bit of uncertainty before a charter (as well as total chaos trying to get the boat ready in time) as we never know what type of people we are about to share an intimate space with, what their likes and dislikes are, and what their bad habits may be.We were expecting rugged, outdoorsy, hard, adventure types and were we disappointed?...well, they play pretty hard, drinking tea and eating us out
of boat and home!! We never know what everyone's preferences are so as you can imagine, provisioning before the trip is very complex, are they tea drinkers or do we buy mainly coffee? Do they eat porridge or do we buy enough sausages for cooked breakfast every morning? are they all vegetarians? To start with it was hard to gauge as there was a bit of seasickness across the Drake Passage and I thought that all I would have to cook would be plain rice and serve dry crackers, but how wrong could I have been?!! every morning I start with a cauldron of porridge which gave me performance anxiety as I knew I was competing with the mothers of 3 Scots
men. this is followed by several loaves of toast, and if I feel awake I might scramble 30 eggs to ease the hunger from sitting around all day.Following the 3 hour breakfast, its a mountain of dishes and then we begin making the daily 4 loaves of bread. Trying to get the yeast to work and the bread to rise in the freezing Antarctic climate is not as easy as Delia Smith would have you believe, but sitting it next to the boat's diesel heater seems to work, although we often have to fight with the limited space with bottles of warming red wine and ski boot inners. Health and safety at work does not exist on here.

Bread started it is then time to prepare lunch as all of the guys get really hungry in the cold (sitting around). some days they do go out to do a bit of climbing, and I'm sure that they think that the minute they leave we all sit and put our feet up but how wrong they are. Once the boat has emptied it is time to get into the boats bilges and every nook and cranny where the
provisions are stored to fill all of the cupboards and make sure we have the staples to hand.It's not much fun trying to cook for 17 people and every ingredient you need needs to be retrieved from the bowels of the boat whilst it is rolling.and your climbing around with a head torch trying to locate the condensed milk.

The boat needs to be vacuumed and the poo loo needs to be emptied (especially after Murray's Dahl), water maker filters need to be cleaned (usually with Steve's toothbrush), Cosmopolitan needs to be read and suddenly it is time to start dinner. If we are really lucky we may get an
hour or 2 to have a quick trip ashore or out in the dinghy, but more often or not we don't get out of the galley most of the day. You may be down there for hours and suddenly you will come up into the wheelhouse, and be amazed, confronted with the most stunning scenery you can imagine. However, sitting there will not cook dinner so off it is back to the galley with the view
limited to the porthole.

The other day, I could hear what sounded like boiling fat, and I ran up and down the galley thinking I had left something on the stove or someone had put it on and left it as often happens, but what it turned out to be was a massive iceberg floating pat the porthole cracking as it moved, it was quite a weird experience. One of many.

The great thing about these climbers is that are so grateful for any food that you put in front of them, it is just a matter of cooking mountainfuls and mountainfuls of it. The hardest thing is trying to work out what to cook with the provisions we have, which requires us to become more and more creative as the trip progresses and we start to run out of things. The guys don't realise we are going to be eating honeyed carrots and spiral pasta with apricot jam by the end of the trip.When we are not cooking, as crew we are also responsible for taking our turns standing out on the bow directing Steve away from the propeller risky ice (which he always ignores and generally drives straight over the top of it), taking hourly co-ordinates and plotting our position on the chart, and helping with dropping the anchor and tying up as appropriate.Its a pretty
full on job and we are often still working at 10pm but it is so much fun and much removed from my job in normal life as a physiotherapist that I wouldn't miss the chance to be on the boat for a moment. Although, I am going to really enjoy the first shower when we get back to Ushuaia.

That is it, my time out of the galley is up and I have to go and rescue the bread out of the oven, back to the guys.

February 22nd - A short misty climb

Chris here: We are still anchored in Paradise Harbour. This may sound like
a small cosy anchorage but in fact is a large but well protected U shaped
channel between the mainland and an island. Within the protection of the
mountains there are many safe anchorages whichever way the wind blows.
There is still the problem of ice and last night we were all kept awake as
what sounded like huge bergs, but were in fact small pieces of brash ice,
scraped down the side of the yacht. A relatively early start this morning
with breakfast at 7:15. The by now slick ritual of too many people in too
small a space, eating breakfast, making lunch, finding climbing gear and
packing rucksacks swung into action. Alan, Dan, Gerry and I now seem to
have got used to where all our gear will be in the disaster area that is our
cabin.

We set off to climb Mount Laprida a small 610m peak just above our
anchorage. The weather this morning was overcast with some breaks in the
cloud and for the first time on a climbing day a brisk wind. The weather
forecast for the next couple of days is not that great, so we were all keen
to stretch our legs. We set off up the slopes, all twelve of us together,
roped up in three groups of four. After the first couple of hundred yards
of hard ice we started wading through very porridgy slush. Crossing several
crevasses, one of which was only about 15 cm wide but seemed to go down
forever, we ascended into the mist. At one point we stopped for nearly an
hour as the guides were keen to make sure we did not fall into some of the
massive crevasses or be standing under potential ice cliffs. A certain
amount of frustration was apparent, particularly as we have spent the last
two days of reasonable weather motoring aboard the Evohe. Eventually we
carried on upwards only to be halted 20 minutes later. Guy Cotter went
forward on the rope to investigate but came back with the news that the
visibility was too bad to continue. A safe decision on mountain that no
one knew the route to the top and we had not had chance to view properly.
The descent was quiet with the porridgy snow towards the bottom even deeper
and thicker than before - just what we all needed to finish off a
frustrating day.

We may now be in the last few days of our stay in Antarctica. We are close
to a couple of points where we can set off north for Argentina when the
weather looks suitable. We may even leave as early as the 25th February
should the weather be suitable. That means we will finish off our climbing
in Tierra Del Fuego rather than in Antarctica. Here's hoping for a few days
of bad weather in the Drake Passage and good weather on the peninsula. Last
night, Murray the first mate, showed us a film from the 1920s of a voyage on
a clipper around Cape Horn. The narrator admitted to having prayed for "an
A1, first class storm" around the Cape. He got his wish three times over
and some very impressive footage of waves crashing across the deck. We are
all now hoping not to encounter one of these " A1 first class" storms on our
voyage north. In fact most of us wish Murray hadn't shown the film until we
were safely back in Ushuaia.

Apologies if this is not as upbeat as some of our other despatches, but
there is a feeling of expedition blues settling over the yacht. The good
weather seems to be behind us, we haven't had the chance to climb everything
we wanted to and perhaps we are all just a little jaded with the lack of
space and washing facilities. We still have to conserve water so the
rejuvenating experience of a "bird bath" shower is no longer available. We
don't seem to notice the smell - either we are all managing personal hygiene
well under the circumstances or we have become used to our collective odour.

Anyway we now have a guest despatch from one of our fellow climbers Mark
Bryan. Mark is a vet from Scotland who emigrated to New Zealand ten years
ago - over to Mark:

Antarctica is near and dear to Kiwis, due to proximity and history, and has
fascinated me for many years. The opportunity of visiting- let alone
climbing- on this amazing continent was too good to miss, and so it is that
I find myself buried under a sea of down and goretex with 11 other smelly
climbers of various mixed origin in a space as small as our old kitchen in
West End Park Street. The analogy with Scotland continues, for the Antarctic
Peninsula in summer is merely a greatly enlarged Scottish winter playground,
without the pubs.

Weather is the first similarity. All fluffed up with down and the latest
technical gear, it comes as a shock to the modern Antarctic Hardman that old
fashioned Buffalo-style clothing and Dachsteins are the optimum 'layering
system'. Then we have snow and ice conditions. The Antarctic Hardperson has
spent months dreaming of pristine blue ice and virgin fluffy snow; shocking
blue skies and stunning vistas. In reality he/she finds wet snow and rain;
slush and soggy porridge; ice lines disintegrating through mist and grey
clouds; dripping buttresses and that familiar post-Kyoto feeling that 'if
only it were a couple of degrees colder' we could really push the boat out.
If Scottish winter conditions hadn't already requisitioned the word,
'dreich' would belong to the Antarctic Peninsula in summer.

At least access is easier- sometimes. No horrendous, wet, 4am starts from a
miserable Golf Course car park and a 2 hour trudge up to the Ben. These are
swapped for leisurely breakfasts and freaky Zodiac rides through dense ice
sharp enough to lacerate the boat, or brief but very wet zips across
storm-tossed bays. And the snow and ice starts from the shore, so no mud and
glaur to get to the meaty bits, just penguin guano and aggressive Skuas.

But when it's good- just as in Scotland- it's unbelievably fantastic.
Despite the damp and the dreich and the demoralising effect of sailing past
perfect lines on gorgeous faces inches from the boat but protected by
snarling ice cliffs which make landing impossible, we have had some very,
very good days. Gearing up on the beach under the gaze of curious penguins;
picking a route up a complex crevassed glacier that nobody has even named
let alone skied through; ridge lines to die for, climbing suspended between
a sea studded with ice like galaxies and mountains that go on forever;
whooping down powder slopes never visited by man; climbing in Antarctica is,
like the song, truly working in a goldmine. Even the 'bad' bits- backing off
routes that looked great but aren't in condition; losing yet more gear to
the deep litter system that has become the boat; mooring the boat in wet but
strangely subzero temperatures, the wind flaying cold hands on soaked ropes-
all become part of the unique experience that this trip has become.

We have collected an eclectic bunch of climbers from around the world who
all, somehow, get along well. Sometimes too well: the alcohol-fuelled
evenings have yielded a remarkable collection of hidden stories and tales,
many of which may have been better left hidden. We are blessed with a crew
from heaven who -in the best expedition traditions of Sherpas- feed us meals
to die for from basic facilities in appalling conditions, and put up with
our appallingly sexist comments and usually give as good as they get. We
have a skipper who tolerates our continual requests to 'look around the
corner', or to 'just sail over to that peak over there', or 'get us a bit
closer to those ice cliffs'. On top of all this, the fun to be had in
watching Alan 'ski' roped up is only surpassed by reliving the experience
back in the boat. As for the pub, we have enough alcohol on board to sink a
ship...... perhaps not the best phrase, but this has been a great experience
with some great people. Who knows, we may even have to make this an annual
event. I think all of us are hoping that we can squeeze a few more epic days
in before the dreaded crossing of Drake Passage, and back to reality once
more with a heave.

21 Feb: no landing sites

Location: Paradise Harbour but still searching for an Anchorage at 2300 GMT
(Location s64.51,w62.52)

Alan here: We spent all day yesterday motoring from Prospect Point which was
fine as a rest day was definitely appreciated. Today though is one of
frustration. By 8pm last night, we had motored to the ultra safe anchorage
of Vernadsky in the Argentinean Islands which confusingly has a Ukrainian
research station on it. This morning I was woken by the now usual sound of
the generator starting, the large diesel engines roaring into life and the
anchor winch creakingly haul up its load. I just registered the sounds as
normal and dozed off. I was rather surprised when the next time I looked I
didn't see any of my fellow hutch mates in bed. I have never out slept the
American, Dan, who we have nicknamed the Narcoleptic because he sleeps so
much. So I quickly got up to see I had missed breakfast but Tamsin, soon
rattled up some toast. During my slumber we had motored across the bay
towards the mainland searching for a landing spot. There was one possible
but the skipper said he could drop us off but could not be sure he would be
able to pick us up at all. The south west wind was picking up the floating
ice debris and pushing it in the direction of this bay so Steve, reckoned
that it would soon full up with ice. He suggested, seriously I think, that
he drop us off and head for a known anchorage and we could walk over to meet
him. This would involve an estimated four day walk and climb over uncharted
mountains so was quickly ruled out. That would be outwith the parameters of
safety. So back to motoring up the coast towards the Lemaire Channel and a
look for access points onto the land. You just could not believe that in
such a huge coast that there is almost no places not completely blocked by
ice and hence no landing spaces.

While Steve got motoring the guides took a chance to ask for feedback on the
trip so far. This was a really interesting exercise in frankness and
diplomacy. Come what may, we are locked together in this 82 foot prison come
expedition ship, for the next two weeks. We have all been getting on really
well considering the levels of confines. It is just as well that we have had
such great days out in the mountains because I can feel cabin fever creeping
in with a second continuous day of motoring under our belts. So the feedback
session started with some silence. I was first to speak and said that I did
not want a ski tour again, I wanted to climb and something a wee bit
technical at that. As I have mentioned before skiing on a rope is a form of
torture for me. The others seem ok with it heading up hill but I must have a
much reduced ability to cope with someone's else's pace. It also is not very
socialable since you are stuck at the end of the rope out of reach of
conversation and with your head down watching the bl**dy rope, you can't
even enjoy the amazing surroundings. So I made my feelings clear, there was
no surprise. Slowly, the others spoke out and expressed their own views at
all times trying to be diplomatic. It was good to get things off our chest
and will be interesting to see just how much of our feedback the guides act
on and modify their behaviour.

One of the most frustrating areas for several of us is down to the
guide-client relationship. Apparently, we are by and large, a far more
experienced and independent group than is normally guided. So we would
prefer to be much more involved in expedition and individual trip decisions.
We would also like to be at the front where possible, recognising the need
for the much more experienced guide at key points. This does not seem to be
really possible as the guide has to be seen to be in charge at all times and
given the remoteness and seriousness of our location something that has to
be taken seriously. However, several of us, still think that there is ground
for more flexibility. So time will tell. Unfortunately we have lost another
whole day to exploring, by sea, likely landing places and I really hope that
we find somewhere to get on to land tomorrow.

So with two weeks to go on the trip and another week for contingency and
flights I can confess I am starting to feel home sick. I am missing my wife
and kids. Not surprisingly missing space too. There is not far to walk on a
boat. I went up the mast today to take some photos as we cruised through the
Lemaire Channel and I joked that from 12 meters up it was the furthest I had
been from anyone in a fortnight. Try imagining that. For those of you
reading this that don't know me I live a sort of duality of personality,
being sometimes very sociable but more commonly the opposite; needing a lot
of time and space to myself.

Enough rambling. The weather has definitely changed in the last two days
with daylight temperatures hovering around zero. Any trip on deck now
requires a duvet jacket, gloves and today two hats. Even as I type this by
the little diesel burner in the saloon I am wearing my down jacket and hat.
Our living accommodation is probably about five degrees but our sleeping
quarters colder. This is where having four of us so close together probably
has a minor advantage.

So no tales of daring do today but have had a chance to stick a couple more
photos. The one of me is for my mum's benefit who was rather over come to
hear from her wee son in Antarctica. She especially was concerned by the
grinding sound as we crashed through icebergs. Not sure how much you can see
of our rabbit hutch the other from a selection of magical shots one evening.

We are unable to read the feedback posted on the web as we only have email
but if you want to send us some you can indirectly by emailing
antarctica@actionus.co.uk <mailto:antarctica@actionus.co.uk>

Thanks for you support and please donate to our charity CLIC via the link on
our website www.antarcticadventure.blogspot.com
<http://www.antarcticadventure.blogspot.com>

Also, for those who have subscribed to the update email, you may not be
receiving the photos which are posted so please visit the above website.

One last also, it has been pointed out that my spelling and grammar can be
suspect for which I do not seek forgiveness but typing this up on a moving
boat after a long day, selecting and compressing photos and then sending the
blog takes a bit of time and spelling is down my list. So keep
suffering!!!!! ; -)

February 20th - Well earned rest but a tale to tell

Alan here: position

Hope you have not missed our dispatch too much. Today is a rest and relocation day. Funnily enough even though we have loads of time, neither of Chris or I have rushed to write the blog. This is not just because we are tired but I think that the length of the day yesterday and its superlatives leave us struggling to know just where to start to do it justice. As I write we are negotiating a huge expanse of ice bergs, mostly about the size of a large car to the size of a bus. By some combination of current and wind the bergs have spaced themselves out in almost a perfect line running from shore to the horizon and about five miles wide. One strange aspect of this area of ice is the noise. There is an almost constant popping and cracking of the ice as we motor by - just like the sound made when dropping ice cubes into a gin and tonic. By looking at the radar we can see out the other side of this ice obstacle course. The sun glinting in the water and sparkling off the bergs is still captivating but there is only so long you can be on deck
even with three layers of fleece and a duvet jacket. The temperature has dropped below freezing during the day for the first time in the trip. The water temperature still around minus one. However, the wheelhouse with its wrap around windows has a conservatory affect and its the most appealing location on the boat. The galley is the warmest but humid and with its small
porthole not offering a view. I was going to say not a worthwhile view but who is going to complain about the scenery with small ice bergs drifting passed.

Anyway, back to yesterday. It was great to be in a group with Chris again, this time with guide Mark. I had hoped that we would be off to climb something but the decision was to ski tour with the aim to achieve first ascents of what we had unimaginatively called peaks six and seven. After the usual major sprackle trying to get four people living in a rabbit hutch find
their gear, have breakfast and make lunch, two hours had gone before I stuck my head above deck. I doubt if you could believe my incredulity at the sight of about one hundred people standing on what I had started to think of as our Antarctica. We had not seen anyone else for a week and here was two bus loads having disgorged from a tourist icebreaker. From the Evohe they looked like giant penguins sprawling over the ice.

Once ashore, as we emptied all our climbing and skiing gear from our Zodiac, the scene became even more surreal. The small rocky bay had about 30 Adelie Penguins doing their best to go about their business, which seemed to comprise concentrating on just staying upright. They flap their arms wildly like some acrobat tight rope walker. They are so funny you just can't stop
laughing at their antics, natural performers one and all. So here we have giant grey haired and nylon wrapped Tourist Penguins mixed with mostly fleece covered and ski booted climbers sharing a small beach with the indigenous feathered species. All three groups almost studiously trying to avoid each other which was quite clearly impossible. I even noticed a switch in focus as we roped up and skied off. The Tourist Penguins started to video and photograph us. Clearly, offering a temporary reprise for their cameras from icebergs and penguins. It turned out that one of our guides, Luis knew a tour guide on the opposing camp and learned that the Antarctic circle route immediately south of us had been blocked by ice and hence the need for the diversion to our part of the world. The extra ice this early in the year is not an indication that winter is near by, actually the opposite, it has been so mild that more ice than normal has broken off the ice cliffs and glaciers and with the light winds just spread itself across the navigable channels blocking the route even to the tourist icebreaker.We were all glad to put a couple of hundred meters behind us and enjoy the solitude of the peaks and glaciers around Prospect Point once more. As we skied upwards, Luis joined us with Dan and Andrew on the rope. The guides decided that all six would join force. So split into two teams of three, we skied roped together over the crevassed lower slopes of the glacier leaving the ocean behind. A couple of hours of skiing brought us to the base of a ramp which looked like leading up to a col between peaks six and seven, giving us access to both. Now for the really sweaty bit. The day had started in glorious sun. In the middle of a glacier the sun's rays become concentrated and even Antarctica starts to get too hot. However, the option to strip off is not possible. You would fry in an hour. So up we skied and up we sweated. The slope angle requiring Mark to zig zag to make it slightly easier, picking a route between crevasses at the same time. So up we heaved with the thought of two first ascents. We all joked about possible names for them. It was Chloe's birthday, she is a crew member and like the others work hard to keep the ship running and us fed. So a theme on here name set us thinking. While this was going on Mark suddenly called a halt and told us to keep the rope tight, a sure sign of crevasse danger. He gingerly crept forward, feeling the snow. Kicking it with his skis or probing it with his ski pole. We moved forward another couple of meters and a change of course.
This extra height allowed me to see the problem. The entire shoulder we had skied up was separated from the col by an enormous crevasse. While these can look magical with the multitude of blues in the ice and the snow covered
dropping lips, they are a real danger and as this one had no snow bridges and was at its narrowest two meters wide it brought the end of our summit dreams. We could no longer access either peak six or seven. While this was disappointing the instruction to remove the skins from our skis signalled by far my favourite part of skiing, descent. Of course this time would be different. We had large packs on our back, the snow was a strange mix of thin power on spring snow but with a firm base. With a huge choice of lines to ski and only crevasses to avoid we all chose our own fresh line. For all of us the first turn on this moderately steep slope was suspect, caused by the pack but soon we were into the rhythm of the turn and whoops of delight spread across all six. The wind in our faces from speed an extra joy. The run came to an end all to soon end but the look behind us at the beautiful line of s curves all the way down the mountain gave deep satisfaction.

Time to get the skins back on the skis. We had to rethink our objective. It was decided to cross the two mile wide glacier and attempt a snow ascent of an unnamed peak to the west. Had we thought far enough ahead it might have been peak ten or eleven. After an hour or so of gently uphill skiing we hit the steeper stuff. The snow on the slope kept settling with a crump under
our feet which kept guide Mark on his toes but after a about two hours we moved off the steep shoulder onto a gentle rise and eventually the summit.
We all shook hands and gazed in continued surprise at the view. Mark laughed as he peered through his camera viewfinder that he could not decide what to photograph as literally all 360 degrees around us spectacular scenery. You could choose between icebergs and ocean, ocean and mountain, or mountain and glacier. With all options in between possible. The air was flat calm and with only our thermals on it seemed incredible that here we were in
Antarctica. We ate lunch and again joked about a name for the peak. Once the unsuitable ones were ruled out we decided to call it Lady Barnett Peak in honour of Chloe our birthday girl crewmember, which I think is rather sweet.

Chris here: As yesterday was such a long day it's now my turn to take over the relay of writing this log. We spent some time drinking in the views at the top of our new peak and then set off down. As we were skiing down the same land we had skied up there was little danger of crevasses, Mark led the way and pointed out safe lines for all of us. The snow conditions were
perfect - fresh powder on top of a firm base. The whooping and shouting as we cruised down this was even louder than on the previous run. Andrew Nolan had a huge smile on his face as he came to a halt at the bottom having carved some excellent telemark turns - he reckons the best turns of his life. At the bottom of the slope we debated what next. It was 4.30 pm and
the Evohe was calling after an already long day of skiing. However even more of a pull was the potential of another first ascent at the head of the glacier. Mark's estimate of 45 minutes to the summit encouraged the doubters to give it a go. We set off in glorious sunshine skinning up the
gently sloping glacier towards the steep slope to the summit. Alan was getting annoyed about having to ski roped up again. Mark cured this by letting Alan have a turn at the front. For some reason after this Alan was quite happy with skiing roped up. As the slope got steeper we went back to having Mark at the front and Luis' group breaking the trail. The pace was unrelenting in a bowl of snow with the sun blazing on our backs - it was incredibly hot and we were all starting to run short of water. However another 45 minutes of toil brought us to the foot of the summit dome at 6.30 pm - Mark's original estimate had been deliberately optimistic! For the
second time today we were brought to a halt by a huge crevasse. We skied around the base of the summit zone looking for a bridge and finding one - unfortunately it was not secure - a slight settlement under Mark caused a careful retreat. Other potential routes to the summit were overhung with dangerous ice cliffs. Clearly the safest option was to stop the ascent and
content ourselves with only one first ascent today.

Skiing down from this mountain was initially not as joyous as from the other two. The sun was starting to set and the snow now had a frozen crust - along with tired legs this led to a careful descent. One hidden crevasse on the descent cause some anxiety but was safely bypassed. After this the gentle slope of the glacier led us towards the sea and our pick up by zodiac dinghy. The scene of skiers on the glacier leading towards the setting sun with mountains in the background and icebergs in the sea was indescribably beautiful. Skiing carefully through the crevassed area at the foot of the glacier we arrived at the beach again to be investigated by one nosy Adelie with the rest of the Adelies looking but keeping a healthy distance. Back on the Evohe we had a well earned dinner and swapped stories of tired legs and powder turns. After dinner we sang Happy Birthday to Chloe and toasted her with a few glasses of wine.

Today we had a rest day as the Evohe motored to Vernadsky. We are now safely anchored and looking forward to a climbing day tomorrow weather permitting. Yesterday was an incredible day - long, tiring, sunny, fun and all with a backdrop of mountains, sea and icebergs. Definitely a day I will remember for a long, long time/

20 Feb: epic ski

Alan here: still at Prospect Point.

Had a huge skiing trip in a fantastic clear Antarctic day. Chris and I are
completely knackered and beg your forgiveness to make this a short dispatch.
Tomorrow has been decided to be a rest day so we will fill you in with tales
of first ascents, first ski descents, near misses and kilometres and
kilometres of skiing. There also should be a higher than normal number of
great photos. Got some good video too but cant send that, might manage to
post a sound effect or too.

Chow for now.

18th Feb - An afternoon of ice climbing

Chris here: We're still anchored at Prospect Point. This morning the weather was bad with quite a lot of rain. After the exertions of yesterday no one was particularly keen to go out climbing or skiing in rain and wind.. A late breakfast and lazy morning was in order. Everyone caught up with writing journals and reading books. Steve the skipper has told us that we are running short of fresh water. This may seem ridiculous when we are surrounded by the largest reserve of fresh water on the planet - unfortunately it's all frozen and takes a lot of energy and effort to melt.
There are some areas of melt water, but we cannot use this as we don't want to risk drinking penguin poo no matter how dilute - could cause a dose of runny Antarctic tummy. The yacht has an osmosis based water making facility but this only works well in the tropics and down here with an average water temperature of zero degrees it only generates 35 litres per hour. The
result of this is that we have to conserve water even more - no more showers, brushing teeth in wine and having seals lick the plates clean - OK so I'm joking about the teeth and seals but we have to be careful with water. The good side of this is that we all smell so much that any
reduction in personal hygiene is hardly noticeable. Anyway, enough of the bad stuff, the good news is that after lunch the sun came out and we decided to go ice climbing.

A short ride in the dinghy brought us to the foot of an ice cliff at the end of a glacier. Guy, Mark and Luis set up top ropes and we all had a fun time climbing vertical ice in the sun against the backdrop of sea, icebergs and beautiful mountains - fantastic. We all enjoyed ourselves so much that we forgot to return to the yacht for afternoon tea and scones - this Antarctic exploration requires sacrifices to be made! However, returning to the Evohe, Chloe had prepared a substantial dinner of stew and mashed potatoes, just what was needed after an afternoon of exertion. One of the traditions of the expedition so far has been each evening debrief of the days activities followed by a brief for the next day. As the days have gone by these occasions have become more informal to the point today where in the middle of the briefing someone shouted that the views were fantastic outside. We all walked out and started taking photos of the
scenery - icebergs and mountains reflected in the calm sea as the sun set.
This has been the most spectacular evening for scenery we have had since being here. The guides managed to coax us into the saloon and finished the briefing once the temperature dropped well below freezing. So tomorrow we
look forward to good weather and a long day ski touring with first ascents and first descents. Until tomorrow.......

17th February - "Earn the turns"

Chris here. (Prospect Point, within spitting distance of the Antarctic
Circle)

We have just returned from an excellent day of ski touring which included first ascents of peaks close to Prospect Point. After breakfast we loaded up the dinghy and set off for our first landing on the Antarctic mainland.
Up to now all our climbing and skiing has been on the islands off the coast of the peninsula. We were welcomed ashore by an Adelie penguin which came over from its group of friends about a hundred yards away and investigated our pile of skis and rucksacks. Fortunately it decided not to leave the
distinctive and very smelly mark of penguin poo. A crabeater seal swam up to the shore, and a Blue Eyed Shag landed nearby to supervise the bright coloured array of fleece and Gore-Tex readying itself for a day in the mountains.

Alan went with Guy Cotter and, Andrew and Rewa Nolan whilst I went with Luis Benitez, Mark Bryan and Dan Jones. After skiing up through a very crevassed area with huge drops on either side, we split up to explore different sides of a 2 mile wide glaciated valley. Our team skied up the valley and then up a couloir to a peak which we believe was another first ascent this time on
skis. Skiing up the couloir Luis was leading, with his inbuilt guide standard crevasse radar on full power. At one point he tapped a snow bridge to test whether it was safe to cross and a 2 foot by 4 foot block of snow fell into the blue depths with a thump. Last night there had been fresh snow
and a little bit of wind which had covered up these potentially lethal obstacles. Luis' experience served us well as he led us across safe snow bridges to the summit. We decided to name the peak Archies Peak after Mark Bryan's new nephew who was born last night. Our stay at the summit was brief due to a howling wind and snow. Very reminiscent of an average day
at Glenshee!!

Descending from the summit we had to ski with all four of us roped together - to say the least this was a challenge and being completely honest it was one of the worst skiing experiences in a long time. Once below the crevasse danger we unroped and skied down to the valley through a mix of fresh powder and beautiful spring snow. Moving from a bad skiing experience to one of
the most fun descents was bizarre. A couple of us were whooping and yelling as we made tracks through virgin snow on the first descent of this slope in Antarctica. After skiing up almost 3000 feet we certainly felt that we had earned the turns.

Skiing back down gentle slopes towards the landing site we roped up again.
This time as the slope was not so steep we started getting the hang of skiing together until Dan at the end of the rope managed to get tangled up and fell over with the rope wrapped around him several times. This brought the three of us below him to a grinding halt with the rope tight. The only problem being that Mark was stopped with the tips of his skis on one side of a crevasse and the tails on the other side - not very comfortable for a couple of moments until we managed to move back up the hill. The rest of the descent to the coast was damp as the rain came in. The crevasses looked even more menacing than during the climb this morning. Whether this was due to the weather, fatigue or a different aspect is yet to be decided. It was great to see the yacht crew waiting for us with the dinghy for a quick transfer back to the yacht. The penguin which had been so sociable this morning returned with several friends to supervise us boarding the dinghy.
These little creatures are so inquisitive and unafraid that they capture everyone's heart.

The weather seems to have changed so we will have to wait until tomorrow to see what activities are possible.

Alan here: well it was a day of contrasts and madness. How many ski trips end by taking your skis off at the shore and climbing in to a RIB, which then zooms full pelt through ice bergs back to an 82 foot yacht? How many ski trips involve two first ascents in Antarctica. How many trips start in glorious sun and end in a blizzard. Ok the last one is a bit more common but the rest just madness of the best kind. I am completely worn out from ski touring for 8 hours and covering at least 15km. Before the weather closed in the skiing the was fantastic, over huge crevasse and down sweet crisp snow.
Things started to turn for me about 2 km after out second summit when the cloud dropped and the snow started. We put our skins on our skis, which make it much easier to head up hill. Guy, our super guide, took us higher and then tried to find a way across a really long crevasse. After feeling several snow bridges he decided on one that had a bit of a jump and a drop.
He zoomed over it and I was next on the rope. I jumped but landed in a pile of deep soft snow. I completely head planted with my head buried and my bum up in the air. After recovering, it was Andrew's turn and he did likewise but also managed to get twisted in the rope. Rewa jumped cleanly. From then on, I got grumpier and grumpier. We were skiing downhill, roped up with our skins on. This was for legitimate reasons. We were on a glacier that no one had ever stood on, we could only see 40 yards because of the snow and there could be yawning crevasses anywhere. However, skiing with 4 people all roped up, heading downhill is a complete nightmare. You cant help but trip up over the rope. The guys in front speed up and slow down tugging the rope,
disturbing your balance, pulling you over. Anyway, enough said on that I was getting really grumpy and had decided it was the worst skiing experience I had ever had. The contrast with that, fortunately, when we eventually dropped out of the cloud but still in the snow blowing, was that we finally unroped, took our skins off and could ski properly. The freedom was fantastic as we picked our way down the end of the glacier and between the gaping crevasses. Once back to the shore the grumpiness was just a memory on what was the most incredible day skiing every. I could hardly imagine skiing up two peaks that no one had climbed before and descending a glacier that no one had stood on. Totally awesome...

Feb 16th- Ice breaking unexplored bays

Alan here (position Prospect Point s66.00.3,w65.20.8)

It was fair to say that after yesterday's nine hour day and complete feast
of eye candy, it was going to be hard to get out of bed. I was woken early,
since have stopped wearing a watch I can't say when, by the engines coming
to life and the sound of the anchored being weighed. Rubbing the
condensation off my small porthole I gazed blearily out to what is becoming
the normal view, an iceberg. Crazy, how when we first arrived in Antarctica
that the sight of a single distant iceberg would cause a flutter of shutters
as we clicked away our digital film. Now we are living amongst them, their
beauty, variation and magnificence hasn't diminished but the desire to photo
absolutely every one has. So I just squinted and turned over to let the
drone of the engine and the rocking of the swell drift me back to sleep. As
I drifted in an out of sleep I was aware that the usual sounds of guides
waking up and gathering the troops and our endless amounts of gear, was not
happening. So time for a wee lie in. My joints certainly were telling me
they had a good work out.

Breakfast called and ended my slumbers. The cloud had dropped so the very
tops of the peaks were not visible and the light spectacular brought by
yesterday's sun now gone. The plan for the day was to motor to another
island to look for a possible landing place to do a first ascent, this time
as a ski tour. We all joyfully grazed on an extended breakfast as the good
ship Evohe, ground her way around and sometimes through the smaller
icebergs. Those of you who are following this blog will have difficulty
recalling any mention of this trip being aboard an ice breaker. And quite
right because we are on a yacht, albeit an 82 foot long steel one. Decidedly
not an icebreaker. So it is is rather amusing but often disturbing to hear
the sound of the ice grinding against the hull and the occasional shudder as
the foredeck man has misread the size of the ice berg and slammed into it.
With a weight of one ton per cubic meter, these "bergy bits", offer
significant resistance to our forward motion.

Today, has been one of exploration as we endeavour to find either a safe
anchorage or access to the shore. Both are increasingly difficult as we head
south. The still weather means that the ice has spread out over the sea
rather than being blown into lee bays. The result is that we have motored
all day often slaloming around the ice and almost doing circles just to make
our way forward. I joked to the ultra cool skipper, Steve, that today must
be the yachting equivalent of rally driving equivalent as he yet again spun
the wheel fully one way then another. He chortled a deep laugh and a look of
jolly madness spread across his face. He was loving it. Even as I type we
have just had a major crunch and an equally major roar of laughter burst
forth from the wheel house. Everyone seeks their pleasures and thrills in
different ways, our fantastic trip in the mountains was respected by Steve
but he had no desire to follow us up.

Anyway, have to go. Finally reached a known anchorage and with good weather
tomorrow we will step foot on the Antarctic mainland for the first time...
temperature has dropped, sea temperature -1 and the air temperature around
freezing...

15th February - Another First Ascent and the sun shone.

Chris Here. Position s65.35.2,w64.35.4 anchored off the west coast of Chavex island. We anchored last night in the lee of Woolpack Island. The first anchorage we went for was not suitable as there was a 300 foot high iceberg in the bay with large seracs at risk of falling off. However, with the weather good Steve anchored safely and we were gently rocked to sleep by
a gentle swell. With good weather this morning we set course at 4 am for Chavez Island. At 7 am Mark Seddon woke everyone up with the news that we had found a landing site, the weather was good and we were aiming for an early start. Everyone tumbled out of bed, hurriedly packed ruck sacks, ate breakfast and made sandwiches for lunch. The process of getting everyone's
packs ready, loading the crampons and ice axes into a protective bag (don't want to puncture the dinghy) and getting everyone into the dinghy, is now becoming quite slick.

Murray found us a sheltered and easy landing site and we were all ready to climb by 9 am. Our initial climb was up a glacier, and amazingly was in glorious sunshine with no wind. So here we were in Antarctica climbing in just shirts and applying loads of sun cream, to avoid sunburn. As we climbed higher so did the sun and we all became rather hot. Today Alan and I were split up into different groups. I climbed with Guy Cotter and Dan Jones, Alan climbing with Mark Bryan and Luis Benitez as their guide. The views as we moved through an area of deep crevasses and large ice blocks which had fallen from ice cliffs above, were fantastic. We could see the Evohe floating in a beautiful blue sea. All three groups reached a saddle giving access to three different peaks and set off for one peak each. Guy guided Dan and I towards the summit of a slightly dome shaped peak whilst we watched the other groups setting off up steep ridges. We reached a stance about 20 feet below the actual summit of our mountain and found ourselves separated from the summit by a deep crack in the snow. Undeterred Guy led this pitch which involved a few steps down to a snow block in the crack then a big step round to a 15 foot nearly vertical ice climb to the actual summit. The only thing about this final pitch was that it was above a more
than 2000' drop straight down into the sea. After summoning up lots of courage, I followed Guy and then Dan followed me. The three of us claimed the first ascent of this peak at position . We spent quite some time admiring the views across to the Antarctic Peninsula with us seeing
right up to the ice cap in the middle of the Peninsula and reflections of mountains in the ice speckled sea. If anything the climb down from the summit was more nerve wracking than the ascent, however it was achieved safely.

As we descended we heard on the radio from the other groups that they had found unsafe snow conditions on their peaks and were retreating. Both groups then ascended the summit which we had just left. Guy led us on a traverse to look for access to yet another peak, however there were too many crevasses and bergschrunds which made access from our position impossible.
We then descended back to the landing site and sat in the incredibly warm sun waiting for the dinghy to arrive. We watched Antarctic Terns flitting around and saw a skua and chick sitting in their rocky nest.

Today has been a fantastic experience with great views, a good climb and fantastic weather. Over to Alan who will give you details of his day.

Alan here: well I don't think there are enough superlatives in the English Dictionary which could describe today. There is no one that could not be moved by just being in Antarctica, surrounded by glaciers, icebergs, sea and a huge sky. When the sun shines this vista opens up and becomes gob smacking. Leaving sea level behind and gaining even one thousand feet leaves you reathless from the view and inadequately eloquent to describe. The sun sparkles on the ocean, on the snow, on the overhanging ice. It dances on the waves so far below. The super clear air meant that, from a height of 2000 feet, we could see over 150 miles. It was an incredible thought, in that whole area there was only our party and absolutely no evidence of man apart from our boat nestling among the icebergs.

So this morning after a gust busting and calf screaming romp over the crevasse and up to the saddle I was surprised to hear the radio call. Our expedition leader had suggested that "Scottish" Mark, Luis and I were to have a look a rather intimidating peak. It started with a narrowing snow ridge that led up a vertical rock band and then a ridiculously steep pyramid of snow. I was pretty certain even before we got closer that there was no way I would be able to climb it. We did push along the narrow snow arête for a distance but it became clear that the snow was really bad an we would not go any further. It was a group decision and really an easy one. So we turned around, deciding to bypass the middle peak, that Chris had summited. We thought we might manage the fourth peak but a huge crevasse ran across most of the middle of the island preventing access so we decided to catch up with the team that were heading up the third peak. Unfortunately, about 100 meters from the summit the snow was unconsolidated with large ball bearing crystals so we could go no further. So both teams headed back down and from our descent we picked a new line of ascent on the peak Chris had climbed. We reached what I thought was the summit only to discover what Chris described above. The steep snow/ice climb was short but really exposed. I too felt nxious on this little climb but was brilliant to tand on the top and be blown away by the views. I only took 100 photos today so feel sorry for all the folks reading this coos I might just bore them to death by photo... as I type this icebergs are banging the hull so I will have to dream of today's experience to help me get to sleep.

A valentines day first Ascent.

Alan here: (s65.33,w64.45) Grandidier Channel (heading to Woolpack island)

At long last we have made a first ascent in Antarctica. Chris and I climbed with the two Marks, so good company assured with the amount of sarcasm and self deprecation reaching all time highs. Mark Bryan is an expatriate Scot,
who has lived in New Zealand for twelve years but has lost none of his sharpness of wit. The other Mark, Mark Seddon "the guide", is a Kiwi with a great ability to join in with the banter and keep it going. I was pleased that our team was ready first and so first into the rigid inflatable boat(RIB).

The excitement started right away just getting from ship to shore. Our overnight anchorage had filled with bergs, some as small as ice-cubes,
others larger than double Decker busses. So all the climbers had to paddle the rubber inflatable boat through a thick soup of ice. Access to the shore was blocked by the brash ice so getting ashore involved a leap from the boat to the snow clad land. Once ashore we four roped up. It was strange to start cramponing right from sea level. The ascent involved climbing steeply scoured snow ridges which dropped right down to the sea hidden by the fog.. Further up we came to a rock band which we christened the Seddon Step, in a sarcastic reference to the more famous Hillary Step on Everest. The snow steepened and shortly after we arrived at the snow covered summit. There was delight all round when the fog started to lift and the sun sought to shine.
For the first time we could make out Antarctic Peaks, both on the nearby islands and the mainland. We salivated at what seemed like endless first ascent possibilities in the area. The difficulties in gaining access to the land is the main issue. It is dawning on me, if not the rest of us, that access from a boat to a continent clad in 100 feet thick ice is very problematic. Ideally we would have a helicopter that could take us from ship to land us on our glacier of choice.

And in case you were wondering, the team have not decided on a name for the
new peak but given the date, the shortlist is Mount Valentine and Cupid's Peak, but with many ruder and less publishable options being suggested.

February 13th-real Antarctic Exploration, were no one has been be fore

Chris here. Another day of exploring and not climbing. However, the
exploring by yacht has brought us success as we are now safely anchored in a
previously uncharted anchorage on Edwards Island at 65 34.4' South 64 19.1'
west. Around us we there are several unclimbed peaks and a choice of routes
to climb.

Back to this morning. Alan and I had both turned in early (notice the
increasing use of nautical terminology as we become more seasoned sailors)
and woke up this morning in a very snug and safe anchorage at Vernadsky
base, tied up to another yacht (Pelagic Australis) which the crew all seemed
to know. The weather was better this morning with high cloud and a hint of
sunshine. We could actually see the mountains we are planning on climbing
and the improvement in the weather raised everyone's spirits. We weighed
anchor at 8 o'clock and motored out into the Grandidier Channel. The views
were spectacular, innumerable glaciers and snowy peaks. In the channel we
were passed by a Chilean Navy vessel which demanded the name of the yacht
and country of origin. Steve the skipper answered politely and maintained
good international relations.

Unfortunately, as we sat with Steve debating with Guy, Mark and Luis the
bays we should explore for possible landing sites a thick bank of early sea
fog rolled towards us. Understandably, Steve did not wish to go exploring
uncharted bays in fog so a quick return to our anchorage at Vernadsky was in
order.

Various plans were mooted including a possible visit to the Ukrainian
science station and climbing some ice cliffs on the island. Unable to
reach the Ukrainians on the radio several of us went in the dinghy to see if
they would accept a visit and ask for permission to climb some cliffs. They
were too busy to accept a visit but said we were welcome to climb the ice
cliffs. By the time we go back to Evohe, Steve had received a call from the
Pelagic Australis that the fog had cleared. So we were off again. This
time there was no false start and we sailed towards Beascochea Bay to look
for landing sites and unclimbed peaks.

Navigating between enormous bergs in the middle of a channel there was a
hairy moment as Steve slammed the engines into reverse when the depth
sounder changed from 90 feet to 17 feet in a matter of moments. The risks
of sailing in unsurveyed waters with no depths on the chart were very
apparent at this moment. Steve seems to have a sixth sense about these
things as we were moving very slowly at the time. Motoring further into the
bay the ice became thicker with more and more growlers and the sea ice
becoming denser with every yard of travel in fact at one point it reminded
Al of chicken soup - I thought this was a good analogy. Though you
wouldn't want any of this soup as the sea temperature was now -0.7 degrees!

Wonders of modern technology such as Satellite Global Positioning System,
radar and satellite phone mean little in these waters where the experience
of the skipper and good judgment matter as much as they did a hundred years
ago. The depth sounder has replaced a sailor swinging the lead to find
depths. In regions where there is ice still have a crew member on the
fo'cstle on ice watch. Semi-submerged ice poses a real threat to the
propellers - the steel hull is very strong and will withstand a large
impact. Steve's experience and good judgment came to the fore as he decided
there was too much ice to proceed safely and we set off back out to sea.

The next area of opportunity was Lehille Island at the mouth of Leroux bay.
This time the ice conditions were favourable and after investigating a
couple of unappealing anchorages we sailed around Lehille island and spotted
a potential anchorage on Edwards Island. After a slow motor into a small
cove we dropped anchor at 6 o'clock in "Kafka's Cove" (which we decided to
name after the skipper, Steve Kafka). It took another hour and a half to
run lines ashore and make us totally secure. The anchorage is good and the
climbing looks interesting. We are all looking forward to tomorrow. Mark,
Luis and Murray have even shovelled out a platform so that we can land
directly onto the snow - we'll have to be careful not to puncture the zodiac
dinghy with our ice axes and crampons as we leap from the dinghy onto the
ice (joke)!!

Quote of the day: Imagine the scene - laundry facilities are limited
(actually non-existent) and we are sitting around the edge of the saloon in
a sort of circle and one of the guides jokes that there will be a supervised
underwear change tomorrow and then Gerry pipes up "will that be clockwise or
anti-clockwise?" - think about it!!

Tomorrow we will hopefully have news of first ascents and intrepid adventure
- stay tuned.

We have a few requests to send us email and unfortunately our technology
means we cannot accept email directly. So if you would like to send any
comments then please send to antarctica@actionus.co.uk
<mailto:antarctica@actionus.co.uk> These will be filtered and passed on to
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endless SPAM. Hope you don't mind this.

12th February South from Port Lockroy

Chris here. Last night's gale abated in the early hours and we left Port
Lockroy at 6 o'clock this morning with the aim of heading south through the
Lemaire channel, calling in at the Ukrainian base Vernadsky in the Argentine
islands and then sailing on to explore bays to the south. The scenery
through the Lemaire Channel was spectacular. After two days of northerly
winds there was a lot of ice in the channel which is approximately 1 mile
wide with dramatic 5000' mountains rising out of the sea on both sides.
Not for nothing is this known as Kodak Alley amongst the cruise ship
fraternity. There was low cloud and some rain as navigated slowly through
the channel. However this made the scenery even more dramatic and
atmospheric. Steve conned the yacht amongst weathered bergs, bergy bits and
brash ice.

We saw penguins swimming through the channel. On land these appealing
creatures are so ungainly and move so awkwardly that it is amazing to see
them transformed into such sleek and swift swimmers. In the water no longer
are they funny and cute but fast and efficient fishermen. There were large
numbers of crabeater seals basking on ice floes. Despite their name,
Crabeater seals do not eat crabs, their main diet is krill. Apparently they
may have been misnamed due to a dodgy translation from a Scandinavian
language. Our presence did not disturb the seals, in fact they barely
lifted their heads to look laconically at us before returning to their
dreams of shoals of krill.

At the south end of the Lemaire Channel we called in briefly to the
Vernadsky base with Luis and Mark Seddon going ashore to ask about
anchorages and potential climbing routes in the area. Luis was greeted by
the base commander with "Ah, you are Luis Benitez, I have a letter for you"
(try saying it in a Russian accent) and handing over a letter from a
Ukrainian scientist and climber who left a week ago. This letter gives some
good information on potential climbing in this area.

We are now motoring south to an anchorage which may have landing sites
nearby allowing us to access unclimbed peaks. Therefore I thought I could
take this opportunity to describe the living arrangement on board the Evohe.
Alan and I are sharing a cabin which measures 8 foot by 8 foot with two
other climbers, Gerry and Dan. Four of us in this space is to say the least
cosy. There is one "drying room" for all 17 of us on board the boat and
when not needed to dry wet clothes we can use this to store rucksacks and
climbing gear.

There are three bathrooms on the yacht with shower fittings in each one.
However we have to conserve water so the opportunities for a good wash are
limited. We have to make to with a wash down using a sink full of
(fortunately) hot water. There are vacuum lavatories on board,
unfortunately we are only allowed to use these for "wee" when within 12
miles of Antarctica or any of the islands. For "solids" we must use a
chemical toilet (only one between all 17 of us) which is then emptied into
holding tanks before being disposed of at a later date. When we are away
from the yacht, climbing, we have all been issued with plastic bags and
toilet paper which must be carried back to the yacht after use, for
appropriate disposal. This is to eliminate any potential environmental
damage to the Antarctic environment from human waste and is a condition of
our permit to come to Antarctica. As you can imagine amongst a group such
as ours there is much discussion of and jokes about "lavatory matters" much
of which is unsuitable for a family web log such as this. However I will
say that I'm very glad our cabin is not the one next to the chemical toilet.

Alan here for an update: well we boldly went where, quite literally, no man
has gone before. The maps and charts say interesting things like, not
surveyed, position not exact and expect errors. Haven't seen any yet that
say "here be dragons" but hopefully you get the picture. Our hugely
competent skipper Steve Kafka, was seeking some kind of relatively safe
anchorage for us to use as a base. But without clear charts and with no
depth soundings, what might be a good place to drop anchor may have a depth
of 300 meters and be useless. After a couple of hours of skirting around the
ice bound coast in fog, with a visibility of less than one kilometre, Steve
slammed the boat into reverse. The engine screamed and everyone sat up. We
had become used to seeing huge bergs grounded around the small islands so at
first I thought were about to hit a large hidden off cast of berg. But what
had caused the full astern was the depth sounder alarm going off as we
suddenly hit only 5 meters of depth. Although, the sea looks the same from
above we are exploring the subsea surfaces and thankful for our instruments,
otherwise we might have ran aground miles from anywhere. So after more
sounding and exploring, Steve decided that the combination of no information
on our position, fog and ice, we were better served by heading back to the
nearest known safe anchorage of Vernadsky, 2 hours back north. This is a
little frustrating but as I am still in the middle of a cold, I would not be
able to function 100% once on land, it is not too bad for me but a real
shame for the others. I am also disappointed with the poor weather. I really
hadn't imagined this much rain in Antarctica; fog, yes but not endless
drizzle. From the other boats we have spoken to, it appears that this has
been an incredibly mild season. The base commander at Port Lockroy said it
had been so hot that the Penguin chicks were too exhausted to defend
themselves from the Skuas who could peck away at their eyes, even though the
young Penguins were still alive. He had found that difficult to take. During
our transit of the Lemaire channel the mountains had either bare rock faces
or glacier cover. There was no ice at all, a sign that the temperature here
has been above freezing for quite some time. I even saw a waterfall which
must be a rarity in Antarctica. Anyway lets hope for a nice high pressure
building from the south to drop temperatures below freezing and clear the
air.

Day 11: Penguins... and shopping

Alan here still at Port Lockroy.

We are rather weather bound. No snow just lots of wind, estimating 50 knots plus. We can't say for sure how strong the wind is, as the yacht had its wind indicator blown off on its way from New Zealand to South America! The
rigging is howling, swinging us often violently around by the anchor.
Bizarrely,all seventeen of us are currently sitting in the saloon watching a DVD of Aviator and drinking beer. Some folk even have pink champagne. Not sure what Scott or Shackleton would make of that. I don't remember this being on the itinerary. Actually, not in so many words but it was really.
Even the proper Antarctic explorers had long periods of weather induced inactivity. Every now and then, there is a really strong gust and the captain and first mate stand up and peer out anxiously only to sit back down and catch up on the film.

Anyway, this morning we went shopping... no really... to the only shop in
Antarctica. It is an ex British Base which the British Antarctic Survey has
rebuilt and is now used to both keep an eye on the nearby Gentoo Penguin
colony and to educate passing visitors. When I say the colony is close by,
what I mean the base is built on top of it. We landed after a brisk crossing
right into the middle of about 50 penguins scattered over the rocky island.
Once ashore I realised there was hundreds of penguins. Everywhere you stood
was evidence of Penguins, either poo, or regurgitated lunch. The smell by
all accounts is really powerful, but fortunately for me I have a cold so I
only enjoyed the odd whiff. Apparently, when in real flow the smell sticks
to your clothes for days. The penguins (named by a welsh sailor from
pen-gwyn, which means white head) are incredibly comical. It is impossible
not to be captivated them as they waddle around the land with their
incredibly badly designed body. Of course they are fantastic in the water
but on land, its so inept they fall over regularly or flap their wings
around just to keep balanced. With their funny black and white suits on, and
donkey braying sound, I could watch them for hours. However, a gale was
blowing over so after about 45 mins in the cold I had to stop photographing
and videoing (hope you liked the photos, thanks to Grant Smith for a loan of
his excellent camera).

Next was a visit to the Port Lockroy base. We met three people and I am not sure it had many more. When we met two of the staff it became clear why the Scottish flag was flapping, so violently, in the wind. There was a Scottish
couple who served in what could just about be called a shop. It sold postcards, t-shirts saying Antarctica, and some maps. Its a big hit with the
tourist ships as apart from the Bingo and the booze there is nothing for them to spend their money on. Apparently, one American guy spent $750 just in this shop. I found that hard to imagine. Not because there was nothing to
buy, which there was, but that there even was $750 worth of stock to spend your money on. Anyway, it was a fun distraction.

After milling around for a while we were rounded up by Murray, our first
mate, to get us back to the good ship Evohe. We had much more fun that
expected as the wind had really blown up. Murray said he could only take six
of us on the RIB. We soon discovered why. We motored round the point and
directly into the gale force wind. Even given the short fetch the swell had
built up, driving short sharp waves into our path. Murray gunned the engine
and asked us all to move back in the boat. We could hear the anxiety in his
voice. No wonder. The water temperature was only just above freezing and the
waves crashed over the bow. With every big wave the spume blasted in our
faces. We were all killing ourselves laughing as each of us got soaked with
the frigid water. With the salt water in our mouth and the ice-cream
foreheads from the stinging water we almost had a sensory overload. The fun
nearly ended with us in the drink as the RIB came up to Evohe, at a fair
lick to keep the speed up against the wind. Murray attempted to stick it
into reverse to arrive neatly at the yacht's ladder. However, he missed the
gear and only just managed to avoid a full speed side impact. With us all
still laughing he circled and this time got into reverse for a more
controlled arrival.

Have to say it was the most fun I have ever had on a shopping trip. So, to
all these large shopping complexes, please listen. If you want men to shop,
include Penguins and a blast of Antarctic waters mixed with adventure and
risk. Oh, and don't ask us to part with any money...

Day 10: our first Antarctic Peak

Alan here: Still at Port Lockroy.

Almost too much happened today... don't know where to start... probably about 3 am when we were all woken up with the boat shaking wildly. I could hear pots and plates crashing onto the galley floor. About five minutes later when I looked out my port hole I could see the cause of all the waves. It was a freshly calved iceberg just fallen from the glacier in the bay we are anchored. It was about twice the size of the boat.

Up at 7am in preparation for our climb of Mount Jansen. Its an odd way to start a climbing trip; getting into a rubber inflatable boat and heading across ice strewn sea to make land in a penguin colony. Chris and I were going to climb with Guy Cotter, internationally renowned mountain guide and super relaxed Kiwi. The rest of the folks were off to another island to do a ski tour, so it was really good to be just ourselves. Our climb commenced with a long snow shoe trip over gently inclining slopes with several crevasses, caused by the glacier tumbling in to the bay. At one point on our traverse we heard what seemed to be a roll of thunder and then watched big waves rolling out across the bay as another large piece of ice
calved off the glacier. The weather had a real Scottish flavour with a bit of everything thrown in. Believe it or not it is warm here, actually too warm. Five degrees this morning but when the sun came out much hotter.
Probably even warmer than in Scotland right now! So as we snow shoed up the steeper slope and stripped off a layer, the wind came in and the cold started to gnaw. It comes straight of the sea which is around 2 degrees, so really cold. One third of the way up we left the snow shoes behind. The slope steepened but the quality of the snow was really poor. It was like walking up knee deep mini sugar lumps. Guy took a snow stake belay and headed up around the corner.

When Chris and I arrived at the belay we could not believe that he was standing in a crevasse that ran right across the face with a cornice just hanging precariously. It was unclear what Guy was planning so I don't mind saying I felt really nervous as I could only see the big drop on one side and nothing over the other. It was just at this point that the wind and hail descended. Always seems to be that way, just when you are considering your sanity. Even Guy said we might not get much further. But in true fluky Antarctic style, by the time Guy had ran out the length of the rope the clouds started to part causing fantastic visual patterns on the sea.

Alan is off to bed fighting off the start of a cold so Chris here to continue today's log. We climbed up a steep slope with deep snow with to Guy who had belayed with a snow stake. After that we moved across easier ground to the base of the final pitch to the summit. We moved up some steeper ice with big drops on both sides. I had to admit to feeling nervous about this and was glad when Guy belayed us up to the start of a rocky scramble (bare and loose rock being careful not to kick it down on Alan) which we climbed in crampons. Just a few more yards along the ridge and we
were at the summit. The wind had dropped and we enjoyed the views and our well earned sandwiches.

Down climbing from the summit was a little nerve racking but once on the snowy slopes we moved quickly but carefully to avoid setting off avalanches. Arriving at the belay by the crevasse and cornice this felt much more comfortable than on the way up. After that we descended to where we had left the snow shoes. As we were removing crampons and fitting snow shoes another couple of climbers from the UK arrived and had a brief chat about the conditions and continued their climb. What would seem quite normal in the Cairngorms was a completely surreal experience in the wilds of Antarctica.

Another hour of snowshoeing in warm sunshine across the glacier, brought us back to the beach and a zodiac which brought us back to the yacht through brash ice with a chance to view where we had climbed for today. The whole experience was everything we could have expected from mountaineering in Antarctica - fantastic views, a challenging route and some weather to cope
with.

We were welcomed back on the yacht with hot tea, cake and the prospect of a delicious lasagne for tea. The crew really look after us well and we appreciate it. After dinner we had a discussion as a group about our day. This was a super way to catch up with the experiences of the snow shoe and ski touring groups who had ascended Mount Lopez on Dormer Island. Everyone
is sitting round with big smiles on their faces having had a great day.

Tomorrow the weather forecast is not so good. We may visit the Post Office in Port Lockroy or get a chance to practice basic skills on some easy slopes. As ever in this area nothing is guaranteed so we may wake up to a glorious Antarctic day - here's hoping.

Chris and Alan