Tuesday, 1 January 2013
Alpine Experience, now in its twentieth season...
Alpine is twenty!
In French, Alpine is "feminine" and I am pleased to think we have fathered this young woman who is both discreet and sure of herself...
In the heart of Val d'Isère, the mecca of the snow industry, we managed to create an unique structure of its kind, almost outdated in these ultra liberal times. Alpine was born of our common passion for skiing and has grown up standing proud on certain human values and most importantly going beyond the mere notion of making profit at all cost.
Alpine knew how to welcome each of us into the fold whilst providing us with enough room to feel free, be ourselves and be creative.
No single boss but all co-managers, we work within a structure of collaboration and fraternity. And we have know how to protect our friendships through the respect and trust we each have in one another.
Disagreements? Doubts? Difficult conversations? Of course we have them! But no disagreement is ever insurmountable and nothing that might destabilize the bonds of our tight-knit team!
This touch of tolerance, a concern for the welfare of the other without getting in the way of the individual expression of our abilities, our complementary styles towards a common goal, this is the glue and the secret of our success. As the season passed, this child grew into an adult, now serene and fulfilled, efficient and competent on the ground... She has made her mark without compromising any of her modesty, humility... her honesty or her empathy!
There is no doubt that we all draw some of our energies from our feminine side?... Fair winds and following seas my lovely, I am very proud of you. To my eyes, you represent far more than a simple ski school that teaches people to make turns...
Alpine a vingts ans!
En langue française Alpine Experience est de genre féminin, et il me plaît de penser que nous avons enfanté cette jeune fille discrète mais sûre d'elle...
Au coeur de Val d'Isère, temple de l'industrie de la neige, nous avons créé une structure unique en son genre, presque anachronique en ces temps ultra-libéraux!
Née de notre passion commune pour le ski, Alpine Experience a grandi en portant haut certaines valeurs humaines, dépassant la notion de profit à tout crin.
Elle a su accueillir chacun d'entre nous en lui laissant un espace suffisant de liberté, de créativité.
Pas de patron mais tous co-gérants, nous avons oeuvré dans un cadre de fraternité et solidarité. Et nous avons su garder notre amitié par le respect et la confiance que nous accordons les uns aux autres.
Des désaccords? des doutes? des discussions houleuses? oui bien sûr! Mais jamais de conflits incontournables, et surtout rien qui déstabilise nos liens, notre équipe soudée!
Cette touche de tolérance, de souci de l'autre sans altérer l'épanouissement individuel de nos compétences, ce jeu de complémentarité au service d'un dessein commun, c'est le ciment de notre réussite.
Au fil des saisons l'enfant est devenue une femme sereine et épanouie... Efficace et compétente sur le terrain elle s'est affirmée sans rien perdre de sa modestie, son humilité, son honnêteté... son empathie!
Sans doute puisons-nous une partie de cette énergie dans la part féminine de chacun d'entre nous?...
Alors bon vent ma belle, je suis fier de toi. A mes yeux, tu représentes bien plus qu'une simple école de virages...
Monday, 6 February 2012
Valle Maira 2012
The gathering of the “ Red Devils” drew us in from far and wide for the 2012 ski tour, from the slopes of Val d’isere and Glenshee, those clearly cheating and getting a head start, to Glasgow, Dundee, London, Brighton and Bristol. The rendezvous point Turin airport, excitement about meeting the newbies, John and Alan who I reckon were extremely brave to withstand a week with us lot but managed it with great fortitude and it was a delight that they could join us all and raise the quantity of medics in the party just in case of disaster, luckily their collective professional expertise was not needed for anything more serious than blisters and poor Sally’s tooth abscess who was lucky enough to have the benefit of their fantastic cocktail of drugs.
Simon S was immediately put forward as our designated Italian speaker as he was way ahead and had previously done an Italian course and so tasked with organizing the transport to Valle Maira as the rest of us took on the parts of his mute friends who tried in vain to speak a combination of other languages in the vague hope that there would be an iota of comprehension, sadly we were disappointed.
Jean Marc and Olivier have organized these trips for us for years, each time finding new locations and staying in some of the most delightful little hotels in the middle of nowhere, generally with spectacular scenery, delicious food and comfortable beds. They have reached new heights as tour operators and mountain guides. Our first destination was the Locanda di Chialvetta in the Southern Alps, which surpassed all of our expectations, a traditional stone and wood building in a tiny village. We arrived after a long journey and as the roads got smaller and smaller, the snow thicker and laying heavily on all the trees around us, suddenly there were the twinkling lights of the Locanda. Not what you would call the hotbed of Italian tourism, we were in the middle of nowhere, suffice it to say we felt that leaving our skis outside the front door wasn’t really going to pose a huge security risk.
We were greeted in the beautiful vaulted bar area by the owners and it wasn’t long before the beers and wine started to flow and we could catch up on all the news from JM and Olivier and with the roaring log fire to warm us it made the perfect setting. Thankfully ski touring has to be one of the most aerobic activities so we could all enjoy the endless delicious meals without any guilty conscience.
The aim each day, depending on weather and the conditions was to climb to the summit of various mountains from our hotel. Day 1 there was the usual “faffing” so much clobber and kit that needed to be remembered and put in the right pocket ready for immediate use that it took a while to assemble ready for the off. I was somewhat nervous as I had taken Simon H’s advice on his visualization training technique and wasn’t sure if it was going to pay dividends on the first 1000m climb. I felt it was my duty to take one for the team and be bottom of the class at the back so everyone else could exhibit their exceptional fitness levels as they sprinted up the mountain like goats, notice the lack of “old” I omitted there. I limped up to the top with Olivier coaxing me the last few hundred metres which I have to say on arrival at the top was a thrilling moment.
The scenery in these valleys is out of this world. We climbed through larch woods, saw white hares, passed derelict old traditional farmhouses, a property developers dream, the sun filtering through hazy clouds creating the most amazing light, catching all the snow crystals that made the air sparkle. As you climb in a slow line in a world of your own it was almost overwhelming the vista before your eyes, nature throwing out its best, a privilege to have experienced this.
The ski down through fresh powder is always a thrill, putting tracks in and feeling the sensation of weightlessness as you float through the snow. The temperatures plummeted as the week progressed to -19 C. it was a first as we were walking along the river and it looked as if it was smoking, this was on the edge of freezing before your eyes, really quite a sight.
Our second location was the wonderful Mascha Parpaja Locanda in Preit, we thought our first hotel couldn’t get any better until we had the first dinner here, I think it only right to say “OMG” it was out of this world, as was every dinner for our 4 night stay, the owners were so delightful and welcoming I would advise anyone to go and stay at any time of the year just to enjoy their wonderful food.
I think this valley is even more beautiful, as the days progressed it was clear that Simon H had pulled a fast one and had not employed his own visualization technique for his own training programme as he was with the fast boys at the front every day vying for the front spot, I hasten to say this is someone with a new hip. They were all so keen that on day 4 all having returned that they would skin up another 500m for more action, I gather, as funnily enough I wasn’t in this party that Alan decided it was an excellent time to practice some of his swimming prowess in the river, skis in the air and an award winning head plant. Funnily enough he was always very keen to borrow Olivier’s skis after this, although I am not so sure Olivier was as thrilled as he did an immediate head plant much to all of our amusement, clearly an equipment malfunction.
I could go on and on, the highlight for me was climbing the Bric Bocasso 1100m climb and our last day the summit with no name, as finally fitness was returning although slowly, the ski down was out of this world all bathed in sun, making for me two very memorable days which I feel very fortunate to have been part of. The skin up was stunning and the ski down spectacular with the river crossing thrown in at the end which was very entertaining. As JM and Oliver were trying to find somewhere we could cross they had no idea Louella had done a raft making course and was ready to show her proficiency and help the team. All I can say is we laughed a lot, skied some fantastic powder and experienced some of the most breathtaking scenery all with good friends and welcoming new ones, so a big thankyou to Jean Marc and Olivier for making all this possible and already looking forward to our next trip.
Wednesday, 18 January 2012
Val Devero.
Val Who?
Devero. And it's not who, it's where.
Never heard of it!
Good. It's charm is that people like you haven't. We were ski touring there in January.
Ski touring in January! But it's so cold and snowy in January. No one tours in January!
So we got it - a whole Val - to ourselves.
We?
Stuart - the rusty iron man, Graham - monitoring his heart rate, Adrian - on a hotwire to the office, Heather - now with the wolfish new skis, and Me and my video fixation, all trouping along behind Jean Marc.
Sounds like a nice group.
It was. Especially me.
A cold miserable hut I suppose! Outside toilets and that.
Nothing of the sort. Great Italian cooking, great Italian coffee, great Italian wines.
Ah. Italy is it?
Quick, aren't you? Yes. That bit that sticks up into Switzerland. Did I mention the hot showers?
I thought you tourers were tough. It sounds more like a pampered spa.
Luca, whose place we stayed in, served us his own yoghurts, cheeses, butter, meat, apples, walnuts ... we lived off the fat of the land.
So you sat around Luca's all day.
We toured around Luca's all day - up through the trees, onto the ridges above, picnics on some sunny lofty perch, back via a frozen lake, or practicing transceivers in the powder.
Powder? You got powder too?
Yeah. You so wouldn't like it.
Val Who?
Devero. And it's not who, it's where.
Never heard of it!
Good. It's charm is that people like you haven't. We were ski touring there in January.
Ski touring in January! But it's so cold and snowy in January. No one tours in January!
So we got it - a whole Val - to ourselves.
We?
Stuart - the rusty iron man, Graham - monitoring his heart rate, Adrian - on a hotwire to the office, Heather - now with the wolfish new skis, and Me and my video fixation, all trouping along behind Jean Marc.
Sounds like a nice group.
It was. Especially me.
A cold miserable hut I suppose! Outside toilets and that.
Nothing of the sort. Great Italian cooking, great Italian coffee, great Italian wines.
Ah. Italy is it?
Quick, aren't you? Yes. That bit that sticks up into Switzerland. Did I mention the hot showers?
I thought you tourers were tough. It sounds more like a pampered spa.
Luca, whose place we stayed in, served us his own yoghurts, cheeses, butter, meat, apples, walnuts ... we lived off the fat of the land.
So you sat around Luca's all day.
We toured around Luca's all day - up through the trees, onto the ridges above, picnics on some sunny lofty perch, back via a frozen lake, or practicing transceivers in the powder.
Powder? You got powder too?
Yeah. You so wouldn't like it.
Monday, 21 November 2011
An island at the end of the world: South Georgia...
Fourth
day at sea, homeward bound back to the Falklands...
We were
due to dock in Port Stanley sometime tomorrow and then on Saturday we would be
back in Santiago de Chile.
I'm a
little worried about the culture shock that awaits us. Considering what we have just
experienced on the trip over this whole month on the wild coasts of South
Georgia and then the hustle and bustle and noise of Santiago it feels as though
this might be tough.
For now,
back to the boat. It's been a
rough night, a short swell and pitch makes the boat dip and roll all over the
place. It was the same on the
outward journey: it made it difficult to sleep at night and by day it was hard
to move about the boat without crashing into something and hurting
yourself! In fact, you need three
points of balance: hold on to your plate for fear of it suddenly taking off
into the air.....along with its owner!
Everyone
has their own way of dealing with sea sickness. Whilst some members of the team simply take it in their stride
and carry on as normal, others battle through it with different degrees of
happiness and stoicism: you have to forget your sense of balance on land
and learn marine geometry -
vertical planes become diagonals, you have to learn to accept that having your
heart in your throat is normal and feel your intestines sink. You also have to learn how to levitate
from your bunk bed in your sleep!
In my
cabin, the portholes are regularly beneath the waterline, and the stern of the
boat sways between the blue grey steely waves. Some of the wave feel as though they smash against the hull
even though they aren't huge. It feels as though a bloc of ice has just
shattered against the hull.. The
ocean is alive and it is beautiful to watch....Oddly enough, I don't feel quite
at home here. This isn't my place.
We are in
the Roaring 50s, in the roughest and most hostile seas in the world and it is
an undeniable fact that if we are to reach our destination at South Georgia, we
have to cross a part of this Southern Ocean - in fact 750 miles of it.
South
Georgia - an unbelievably wild place where Man is not at home...It is 170 km long by 30km at its widest place
and it seems to group all the mountains of the world here! The glaciers are enormous, either flat
or hanging glaciers onto the walls of the mountains and glaciers and sharp
peaks all jockeying for ground - like a set of pointed teeth looking skyward.
The
central part is the 'thickest' and the most varied in terms of relief. The Northern Coast greets us with a crown
of relatively low peaks of between 800m and 1200m max, all connected by lovely snowy gullies,
some of which are extremely steep. Further away in the background we can make
out the impressive Allardyce chain.
Its high peaks disappear up
over 3000m above the ocean and seem to be 'guarding the temple'. And if the
clouds that seem to hang over the
peaks ever clear, you are struck by the beauty of this majestic mountain range
- the purity of its lines, the fierceness of the seracs, rocks and 'mushroom boulders'
that protect them. They are like
the himalayas.....a real barrier.
All the
way down the coast, giant glaciers break into the water....deep crevasses carve
into their bodies and chaotic seracs stick up menacingly.
What has
happened to the beautiful bays where the ice has retreated? They now belong to the animals who have
come in their tens of thousands to mate here during the season.
This
island is whipped by strong winds and the peaks are draped in long clouds that
are in perpetual motion..
Once you
are on land, sudden gusts of wind come from nowhere and knock you to the ground
and then they are gone as suddenly as they appeared..
This is a
place requiring total commitment - there is no rescue here, there are no
accurate maps, no detailed information and no valid weather forecast. Each day brings its own uncertainty and
surprises, and its discoveries. It
is exhilarating and exciting.
But don't
worry about us thinking we are the next heroes. We are modest and low key - especially having read Shakleton's
"Endurance". In his day,
it really was a matter of life or death..
We knew
that the purpose of our expedition (to discover the island on skis) could
deliver on its promise or if we were unlucky, it could become one long arduous
wait in the galley of our boat..
Fortune
favoured the brave and we were lucky.
I think the fact that we weren't simply focused on retracing Shakleton's
crossing really helped us. We had
planned to do this and had
prepared and come equipped to do so but a bad weather forecast at that moment
on the expedition prevented us from doing it safely in good conditions and we
would have wasted precious days waiting for the right weather window.
We
quickly decided to make the most of another option which was to undertake 'day
trips'. This enabled us to be more
flexible and more adaptable to the ever-changing weather conditions. This tactic proved to be a winner: we were able to make the best of a
few good days (and there were a good number of those) to undertake some
magnificent crossings and climb a few peaks. Perhaps we were even the first people to scale these
nameless mountains? Given our
doubt, we will abstain from making any great claims - and for the record... we
don't give a ----! Although to put a basque or catalan name on an English map
does have a certain appeal to it but we will leave it there. No sense in adding
any fuel to the fire!! We've
already beaten you at rugby!
We are
preparing a beautiful book of photographs and also a film that will be on sale
by the end of this winter... The book
is the formal edition of Jean-Jacques' Somdecoste's a.k.a. Jakes's diary of the
expedition. It captures the human
aspects of the trip with great warmth and humour! To be read uncensored......!!
Meanwhile,
let me leave you with a few tracks of my own from our expedition!
I hope
these few lines are enough to help you picture this unforgettable journey, over
24 days on the coastline of South Georgia..
6th
October: Elsehul Bay, our first sortie on the island!
After
four days of being shaken, rattled and rolled at sea, our ship, the Hans
Hansson finally stopped moving at some point late in the night between the 5th
or 6th..
In the
morning, we go ashore to Elsehul, without our skis, it is the only ithmus on
the island. Twenty minutes on foot
is all it takes to cross from the North to the South of the Island, from
Elsehul to Undine Harbour. We are
like children when we see our first animals! At these latitudes, the light is extremely pure and bright
even though it is a cloudy day: There are different shades of grey in the sky, the shore is
turquoise and there is a gentle icecap floating nearby. From the start, we feel as though we
are on another planet, and there is a deep sense of isolation and
solitude.....we are at the end of the line.
9th
October: We attempt Warbutton
peak (850m)
The
previous day had been gloriously sunny but today we began our day by going ashore on Sunset Bay under a
light drizzle of rain and a biting fresh breeze! We take our first steps onto the glacier and we are already
grateful to our GPS as the whiteout stays with us for the whole day: we are soon forced to give up on our
goal. The weather turns nasty on the
way down, the wind becomes biting and strong and the steep exit from the
glacier suddenly becomes questionable, due to the lack of visibility. We return to the boat frozen, barely
managing to get inside before the storm starts to lash the boat. On the way to Prince Olaf
Harbour, Dion, our captain stops us a few metres from the enormous
Salisbury Plain which is home to the third largest colony of Emperor Penguins
in the world! 130,000 pairs! It is both moving and impressive to see
this wall of penguins, all bunched up one against the other to face the glacial
wind on this never-ending beach.. This sight is beyond the realm of human
reality and this absolute difference brings you down to earth making you very
aware of the extreme wilderness on this island at the end of the world.
10th
October: Crossing from Possession Bay to Antarctic Bay (1st Day of Shakleton's
crossing)
A ramp on
the glacier of Possession Bay exposed to the falling seracs enables us to set
foot on the immense plateau of the glacier. The weather is mixed. Pale winter light, a mysterious ambiance in
which worrying black pyramids draw themselves up towards the sky, like guards
of some forbidden city.. The group is far ahead of me, like little insects
frozen by he frost..
At the
pass, the visibility doesn't improve, in fact it becomes even more
confusing! These guardians had done their job and put us on our
guard. This slope really wasn't
welcoming at all.
The
slopes are steep and full of crevasses, they lose themselves somewhere 'near
the bottom', deep in the whiteout which we all find nervously draining. We rope ourselves together and leave
plenty of distance between each of us and our track that initially moves
upwards then divides down into these disappearing slopes: two hours to cover
200 vertical metres in horrendous snow above the seracs and cliffs in order to avoid
the crevasses that are barely visible..
We eventually find a way out of this minefield and re-join the more
gentle and welcoming slopes. We
begin to feel those biting gusts again on the last flat: I was at the back of the group and all
I could see were huge ellipses being blown in the wind by the ropes! Then we
found ourselves having to bend our own backs into the wind, bending over our
poles and hanging on during these short bursts of wind. Was this a taste of these famous gales
that everyone here is terrified of?
The end
of the glacier is a blue wall hanging over the mint-coloured water of Antarctic Bay. We were hanging over the bay without
being able to see a way down!
Dion, our Captain, helped us with his radio. He knows
that there is a small way out of the glacier by way of a long traverse hanging
over the water and taking us down to the water's edge. Sublime. What an end to an extremely stressful day in the most
extraordinary environment!
11th
October: Crossing from Antarctic Bay to Fortuna Bay (second day of Shakleton's
crossing)
Jean-Marc
got up at 0500 in order to capture the amazing light in the sky and the unusual
shapes drawn by the clouds. The
weather is cold and good. The Bay
is full of 'growlers' (small icebergs) and there is no doubt that we are in a
polar region!
We find a
weak point in the glacier and climb up, skis on our packs, up a steep wall of
snow. Chris and Luis follow our
progress from the dinghy in case one of us happened to slip on this natural
slide that finishes straight into the water!! This easy climb in the heart of
the glacier and the bay is great.
On top, as yesterday, the glacier flattens out, and becomes enormous and
flat, as far as the eye can see, well for at least 10km. It feels like the Spitzberg! We can see imposing peaks up ahead in
the distance, their peaks dressed by ever-changing clouds. It is warm but this doesn't last as every gust of
wind brings the temperature crashing back down again! We ate our picnic and then made for the pass
that Shakleton himself had crossed in May 1916 on his way to Fortuna Bay. He took the gulley to the right and we
really fancied the one to the left!
We enjoy our turns in this gentle gulley but it soon changes into a
couloir and then the exit becomes increasingly precarious! Jean Marc carefully moves towards the break in the slope and then asks
me to come down to him so that I can keep watch on his first turns. Now that we have found a way through
the first cliff, we need to find a way out of the couloir that doesn't seem to
have an exit! Jean-Marc then bumps
right over a spur and finally
dives easily into a secondary gulley and comes out on the beach at Fortuna bay. We find ourselves once again in the middle of a colony of emperor Penguins that we take
care not to disturb and frighten.
They are gentle animals and very placid with their bright colours of
grey and bright orange!
Everyone
is on form after this amazing day,
even more so as Jakes finds out that the French have beaten the Brits in the
rugby world cup quarter
finals. Steve and Chris are
disappointed, Jiji and Jakes are triumphant like two small boys and chatter
wildly to determine who is the man of the match: is it the four Basques on the team or the Catalan Coach?
13th
October: we visit the Grytviken museum, and discover the reality of a real
whaling station
After a
magnificent crossing of the Maiviken Bay and up to the summit of Mount
Hodges, A narrow chute takes us to
the Grytviken quay... 8
people live here all the year round, with re-supplies by boat from the
Falklands. The local government
has built a small museum to explain the history of the island,, its flora and
fauna and the different expeditions that have been here. For me, the most interesting part was
the real life experience of these fishermen killers of whales. In those days, whale blubber was the
equivalent of our oil today and for many years we used t in a large number of
our everyday lives.
We used
blubber for lightning, heating, for cooking, to grease precision machines, for
cosmetics. The grey amber was used
to fix scents and the whale meat was eaten. The bones were used and the leather was used to make belts. The whalebones were used to make either
umbrellas or corsets.. Therefore,
in those days demand for blubber was high and whaling was a profitable
business: It was a sure fire way
of making money quickly.
A number
of quotes explain clearly why these British and Norwegian sailors signed up for
a minimum of two years in this hell hole red with whale blood and with the
stench of death. First came the
hunger to make money and then came the fascination with the island and the
place.. and eventually, the hook of an unique sense of camaraderie.. It was
hard to live without it once you had tasted it. Basically, sailors came back for more even if the conditions
were tough and avery dangerous.
The thing
that shocked me more was the organisation surrounding this large scale killing
machine of the world's largest mammal.
It was extermination, shocking butchering and symptomatic of our
approaches to other parts of the planet.
With technical progress (faster boats, the use of exploding harpoons)
the balance of strength has switched and in 1917 a small flotilla kills over 4000
whales off the coast of South Georgia.
in 1930
the estimate is that 50,000 blue whales were killed in the oceans around the
world.
the
330,000 whales living in Antarctica at the beginning of the 20th Century are no
more than several thousand today and during this month of October 2011 with 32
days at sea and more than 4000 miles under our belt, we haven't seen a single
whale, not even the tell-tale sign of a blowhole through the binoculars!
in 1960
all the whaling stations closed down suddenly from one day to the next, leaving
everything behind. Tons of food,
fuel, boats, cooking utensils, and tools of every type: it was cheaper to leave
it there than bring it back. These
things still haunt a number of Bays on the North coast of the island and people
have prepared to make them living
museums even if you can't go in for security reasons!
Let me
summarise: we assassinate
without the slightest conscience
for more than a century.
When it 'becomes no
longer profitable' , everyone
leaves and the stuff is left to rust and rot.. and the icing on the cake is
that we justify the whole thing by calling this stuff vestiges of sailing history and this, on an
island where nature is protected!!??
Man is not bound by a
single contradiction but I question the slow development of our consciences and
the fast development of technology!
16th
October: Day spent in St Andrew's Bay
A short, rough sail took care of half the
team. Today the zodiac takes only
a small number of us down to St Andrew's Bay. The wind is blowing an icy gale and with no let up for the
whole day.
Our plan
was to do a large loop over the Heaney and Buxton glaciers in order to approach
the high peaks of the Salverse range which are closer to the coast at this
point. The distances are
misleading and the pass we had set ourselves was impassable. It doesn't matter as we
were able to find another passage to enable us to drop into the Buxton Glacier.
Maps and GPS aren't enough in this chiselled landscape, There is something very
exhausting about only finding your way by reading the land and imagining your
itinerary as you take each step!
We
hesitate behind the pass. The snow
is frozen on the surface and it doesn't look good for skiing. I would never forgive anyone if they
fell and at the bottom, crevasses await like crocodiles in the sun, waiting..
mouths open. We therefore decided
that the safest way down is using crampons. We put them on, rope up, skis on the backpacks and start
down, happy to be moving thorough the terrain, in synch with the elements and
in awe of the chaos and the barrier of seracs awaiting us down below.
The
return to St Andrew's Bay is
astonishing. We ski very
slowly through thousands of penguins who have taken over the hills over looking
the bay.. Our ears are deafened by
the grating calls and the nauseating smell of their bird guam and rotting
carcasses of young pups that never made it.
The young
penguins, all covered in brown down, are hilarious. They are very curious and are happy to approach us in small
groups and then stop about a metre away to observe us.. Then on one them dashes off, zigzagging all
over the place, wings flapping and bumping into his little brothers!
here the
beautiful and the moving lives side by side with the cruelty and fragility of
life..
Further
on, we find ourselves cornered between a large waterfall and female walruses who are not pleased
to see us and so close to their offspring..
Imagine
the south of France in the summer and replace the thousands of tourists
roasting in the sun with walruses.... thousands of them. The males are jousting and stand up to
protect their harem (1 male for 100 females) and beware the young gun who dares to take a shine to one of
them. He will be seen off pronto by the big guy!
But it
was just an ordinary day for skiing in South Georgia
19th
October: we sail into the Drygalski Fjord - it is austere and menacing but
still incredibly beautiful
The
crossing from Wirik Bay to Salomon Bay was a glorious sunny journey. At the top of the first pass we
spied a rather lovely peak right in the middle of the glacier and decided to
make that our goal for the day. It
is even so hot that day that we allow ourselves a little snooze at the top!
We
enjoyed a wonderful descent, then got stuck on the right hand bank of the
glacier but thankfully Dion managed to collect us from a beach on the left bank
and announces that we can go into the Drygalsky Fjord. This is exciting news as this is not
always possible due to the wind conditions - the wind sometimes picks up over the
peaks in the middle of the island and then rushes down the glaciers and howls
down the fjord at great speed.
Today we were in luck and only had a 60 knot wind to contend with when
we got to the bottom of it..
As we
went in, the fjord narrowed immediately and tall, rocky, black pyramids made a
black avenue of honour like a long hedge in a stately home....it was
awe-inspiring. Further on,
vertiginous walls rose up with fine streams of water and ice dripping down them
and the peaks looked like something out of patagonia. At their feet, glaciers sprawled below, endless roads of
nasty-looking seracs, bright blue, razor sharp and precariously balanced on the
ice..This was nature at its harshest, and most raw and all this reinforced by a
howling wind over the front of the boat!!
In the
evening, Dion drops anchor in the much calmer neighbouring fjord to the
Dryglasky: Larssen Harbour.. This
was the angel after the devil and this little canyon was a haven of peace. We decided to spend 3 days here.
Larsson
Harbour is the home to the last of the Wedell seals. They normally live on the icecap and this was still here
until twenty years ago. With
global warming the ice has retreated out of the fjord and soon these magnificent
seals, too few in number to ensure the survival of the colony, will go the same
route. Their mating calls could be
herd right through the boat and rocked me gently to sleep in this extreme and
yet intimate place at the end of the island...
21st
October: Mount Senderens and the crossing to Trollhulll: possibly one of the
most beautiful days I have ever spent in my life as a ski-mountaineer...
We
received the green light from the British Government to attempt this
crossing! Very few
ski-mountaineers ever attempt it: either because of the inclement weather which
is a regular occurrence in this part of the island or because the pickup on the
southern coast can be difficult due to the heavy swell.
Early in
the morning the 'wall' blocking Larsson Harbour burns off and we emerge into
the sunshine onto a sunny glacial plateau. The day is sunny and cold with a
healthy level of wind blowing but we are still determined to climb one of the
peaks surrounding us! We choose
Mount Senderens (1200m), which sits like a throne at the end of the glacier
which is once again full of crevasses so we decided that we are safer with the
ropes on both on the way up and on the way down. We tackle the final ridge with crampons and piolet - it is
raw and grey - unforgettable.
The scene
continues to impress - it is sumptuous and grandiose. It feels like high mountain, a world of glaciers populated
with sharp peaks with ice caps on top that appear inaccessible due to the
impossibly steep flanks.. and below us, ... the sea....as turqoise as you would
find it anywhere in the caribbean.
Everyone
is feeling the impact of the place, everyone's hearts are full of this wild
beauty which is at once so inhospitable and yet also totally addictive!
Arriving
at Trollhull almost gives us
vertigo...talk about " end of the line"!. The only piece of land further south is Antarctica! We get to the end of this unbelievable
day - a visual feast to the eyes and we feel blessed that the gods gave this to
us. Thank you!
23rd
October: The Beach at Gold Harbour: it's love at first sight for this unique
place on earth!
After two
days of bad weather, we left our mooring in Larrsen Harbour and sailed up the
North Coast to Gold Harbour. Gold
Harbour is one of those perfectly formed bays, fully of thousands of animals
(agains!!) and sealed in by a hanging glacier above some massive cliffs.
The bay was
bathed in gentle evening light as we went ashore for our now frequent immersion
in the local fauna. It seemed that
they were there in even greater numbers as it was peak mating season. The sea elephants were
astonishing. Two big males fought
to the death as one of them tried to mate with a reluctant female who simply
ignored him and refused. it was
quite funny to watch him move up to the female, then watch her move away and
then he would have another go, putting his fin on her back as if it would make
her more inclined to soften towards him.. does that remind you of anyone?
The baby
sea elephants are sweet in their black sheaths - a bit like a babygrow that had
been bought a few sizes too big so that they could 'grow into them'. But they need to take care as one sign
of weakness and they become a feast for some of the predatory birds watching on
standby..
We spent
a long time with these young penguins in their nurseries.. They are clumsy and
innocent and some of them don't think twice about following us! The thick brown down makes them look
like cuddly toys and it takes a lot of effort to remind yourself that you are
not in their world and cannot lean down to touch them!
Every now
and then a penguin shoots out of the water like a rocket after a quick jerky
swim much in the same way as dolphins do.
These papous penguins are smaller than the emperors, their beaks are
less haughty and the hair on their heads is a little messier, making you
believe that they could be really cheeky.
The male Otaries are an
imposing 500kg and begin to mark out space on the beach. Whilst they await the arrival of the
females who are still out at sea, they stand guard at the ready, their beaks
pointing up towards the sky as though to make themselves as tall as possible
and impress their neighbour..
Everywhere
we look, there are birds flying, swimming or parading!
The skua is grey and menacing and is perfectly suited to his role as the tramp of the
beach.
The giant
petrel is an imposing bird with a reputation for having an insatiable appetite.
Once his stomach is full, it becomes a serious barrier to a smooth take-off and
it finds itself forced to pedal on water to move away from the land-based
attractions!
If his
mating dance is funny to say the least, that of the cormorants is perfectly choreographed down to the
last hundredth of a second, a series of graceful head movements - a moment of
pure grace.
The fight
of the Damier du Cap or that of the snow Petrel makes you dream. They give such a feeling of lightness
and freedom. We spent hours watching them dance either in the mountains of at
sea.
Lastly
the Albatross, the symbolic bird of the poles are not things of legends but
real even though we didn't see very many of them!
The
wanderer is a sight to be seen as his feathers are a every possible shade of
grey and it is soft and easy to look at.
The wanderer is one of the largest birds in the world and we take our
hats off to him when we learn that it is an exposed to the falling seracs
flight 8000km to go and retrieve its young....
27th
October: we climb the point above
Iris Bay at 1672m: a great triumph in the face of adversity!
It took
hours of map reading, researching and reading documents on the various
expeditions on the island, several days of recces, of failed crossing of the
Hertz glacier and even a night spent camping out in a howling gale on the
glacier before we were able to transform our objective into a success.
There was
nothing heroic or extreme about this trek, only the satisfaction of having been
proved right to persevere and to have picked out a wonderful itinerary on skis
that was both logical and safe....
Standing
on the summit and soaking up this
incredible view, I feel a deep sense of achievement, having conceived of this
dream four years ago and now having made it come true.
However
beautiful and dramatic this expedition was, it was a constant reminder that
climate change is well and truly upon us. One cannot ignore the five dry winters that this
island has endured, or be surprised at having experienced rain and other mild
weather in places where snow storms and biting arctic winds should be the norm,
or fail to be worried when you watch the marine charts on the screen of the
boat and notice that we are sailing on water that only seven years ago was a
glacier..
We can
quibble over whether or not we have to take our share of responsibility in
global warming: I've seen shocking examples of it in Norway, Iceland, Mongolia,
Greenland and now here in South Georgia - all places close to the poles.
How can I
acknowledge this reality and adapt my way of life, my work and my travel ..
Even if I can see the types of decisions I need to make, I have to admit that I
haven't got the courage to take them as I haven't yet formulated an
'acceptable' answer. Returning now
from the expedition, I feel more than ever that time is running out - we need
to find the answers.
Sunday, 20 November 2011
une île au bout du monde: la Géorgie du Sud...
Quatrième
jour de navigation en mer, sur le chemin du retour aux Falklands…. Nous
devrions arriver à Port Stanley demain en journée, et Samedi nous serons à
Santiago del Chile.
J’appréhende
un peu la violence du contraste entre ce que nous avons vécu pendant tout ce
mois sur les côtes sauvages de Géorgie du Sud, et la cohue bruyante, moderne de
Santiago…
Pour
l’heure, la nuit a encore été mouvementée , avec une houle courte et croisée
qui fait tanguer et surtout rouler le bateau…Même scénario qu’au voyage aller :
sommeil difficile la nuit, déplacements périlleux à bord durant la
journée ! Il faut constamment essayer d’avoir trois points d’appui, tenir
son bol sous peine de vol plané impromptu…du bol et de son propriétaire!
Nous
ne sommes pas tous égaux face au mal de mer. Quand certains continuent à vivre
comme sur le plancher des vaches, d’autres s’amarinent avec plus ou moins de
bonheur : il faut oublier l’équilibre terrestre et apprendre la géométrie
marine ; celle ou les verticales glissent en diagonales… Accepter les hauts-le-cœur
et le sauvetage de la bassine, sentir ses intestins en apesanteur, et subir la
lévitation en pleine nuit sur sa couchette !!...
Dans
ma cabine les hublots sont régulièrement noyés, et l’arrière du bateau bascule
sous l’horizon bleu acier des vagues. Certaines déferlantes, sans être
gigantesques, frappent le bateau comme si un bloc de glace heurtait la coque. L’océan
palpite et c’est beau ! Mais curieusement, je ne me sens pas à ma place…
Nous
sommes sous les 50e hurlants, dans les mers les plus agitées, les
plus hostiles au monde et traverser une partie de cet océan austral, 750 miles
au total, est le prélude incontournable à notre destination : La Géorgie
du Sud.
Une
île de démesure sauvage, où l’homme n’a pas sa place… Ce conféti de 170 km de
long sur 30 de large à son maximum, est un concentré de toutes les montagnes du
monde! Les glaciers, vastes et plats ou suspendus aux parois, disputent le
terrain aux milliers de pics acérés, dressés vers le ciel comme des canines
givrées.
La
partie centrale est la « plus épaisse » et la plus variée au niveau
relief.
Sa
côte Nord nous accueille avec une enfilade de sommets rocheux peu élevés
(800-1200m max) reliés par de belles combes enneigées, souvent raides.
En
arrière-plan, l’impressionnante chaîne de l’Allardyce. Ses hauts sommets
s’envolent à 3000 mètres au-dessus de l’océan, et semblent « garder le
temple »… Et si le nuage orographique qui les enveloppe souvent, daigne
disparaître, on reste coi d’admiration devant ces montagnes : majestueuses
par la pureté de leurs lignes fuyantes, ou monstrueuses par l’enchevêtrement
anarchique de séracs, rocs et champignons de glace dont elles sont habillées.
Une
véritable barrière himalayenne….
Tout
au long de la côte de gigantesques glaciers « vêlent dans l’eau »,
entaillés de profondes crevasses, hérissés de séracs chaotiques.
Les
somptueuses baies où la glace a disparu? Elles sont maintenant le royaume des
animaux, qui par centaine de milliers, annexent toutes les plages pendant la
période de reproduction…
…Une
île balayée par des vents forts, qui drapent les sommets de langues nuageuses
dévalant le long des raides versants, ou les enveloppent d’un nuage
orographique gigantesque, en perpétuelle activité…
A
terre ce sont les rafales violentes qui te surprennent et te couchent sur la
neige, puis disparaissent comme un fantôme dans la minute qui suit…
Une
île où l’engagement est total car pas de secours, pas de carte ni d’infos précises,
pas de météo fiable… Chaque jour apporte sa part d’incertitude, de découverte,
et c’est excitant !
Mais
pas d’inquiétude qu’on se prenne pour des héros ! On garde un verbage modeste
et discret quand on a lu « l’odyssée de l’Endurance », de sir Ernest Shackleton.
De son temps c’était vraiment une question de vie ou de mort…
Nous
savions que l’objet de ce voyage ( l’exploration à ski de l’île ) pouvait tenir
ses belles promesses, ou se réduire à une longue attente dans le carré du
bateau!!...
Notre
opportunisme nous a porté chance ! Le déclic aura certainement été de ne
pas se focaliser sur la traversée classique de Shackleton, à réaliser sur
plusieurs jours avec nos pulkas. Nous avions pourtant tout prévu pour cela,
mais la mauvaise météo à ce moment-là de notre séjour, ne nous permettait pas
de réaliser ce parcours dans de bonnes conditions, et nous aurions perdu un temps
précieux à attendre le bon créneau.
Nous
avons aussitôt privilégié une option « sortie à la journée », plus
souple et plus adaptable à la météo très changeante. Cette tactique nous a
plutôt réussi : nous avons ainsi pu profiter des bonnes journées (et il y
en a eu un certain nombre !) pour réaliser de magnifiques traversées et
ascensions de sommets.
Peut-être
avons-nous été les premiers à fouler certaines montagnes sans nom… Dans le
doute on s’abstiendra de revendiquer quoi que soit, d’autant plus qu’on s’en
f… !!... Quoique… épingler un nom basque ou catalan sur la carte anglaise
de la Géorgie... Mais on ne va pas en rajouter ! On vous a déjà battu lors
de la coupe du monde de rugby!...
Nous
préparons un album et un film que vous pourrez vous procurez fin hiver 2012.
L’album
reprend le carnet de bord de Jean-Jacques Somdecoste dit Jakes. Il retrace avec
beaucoup d’humour l’ambiance humaine de notre expédition ! A lire sans
modération…
En
attendant, je vous trace quelques courbes
personnelles de notre fabuleuse exploration...
Que
ces petits traits de pinceau puissent vous aider à imaginer le tableau de ce
voyage mémorable, fait de 24 journées de cabotage sur les côtes de Géorgie du
Sud…
6 octobre : Elsehul Bay, notre première sortie
sur l’île !
Après
quatre journées à se faire brasser en haute mer, le Hans Hansson s’immobilise
tard dans la nuit du 5 au 6…
Au
matin nous débarquons sans les skis à Elsehul, le seul isthme de l’île. vingts minutes
à pied suffisent pour passer du nord au sud de l’île, d’Elsehul à Undine
Harbour… Les premiers animaux croisés nous émerveillent comme des gosses !
Sous
ses latitudes extrêmes la lumière est extraordinairement lumineuse, malgré le temps
couvert : dégradés de gris dans le ciel, rivage turquoise bordé d’une fine
banquise… D’entrée, le dépaysement est total, empreint d’un forte sensation
d’isolement, de solitude…
9 octobre : tentative au Warbutton
peak (850m)
La
veille nous avons skié par une magnifique journée ensoleillée mais aujourd’hui nous
débarquons sur la plage de Sunset Bay… sous une pluie fine et cueillis par une
bise fraîche !
Premières
foulées encordés sur glacier et merci déjà au GPS, car le jour blanc ne nous
quitte pas de la journée ; nous sommes contraints de shunter notre
objectif.
L’ambiance
devient glaciale à la descente quand le vent redouble de force, et la raide
sortie du glacier nous questionne, faute de visibilité.
Nous
rentrons gelés, en échappant de peu aux violentes rafales qui arrivent à faire
gîter le bateau !
Sur
la route de Prince Olaf Harbour, Dion notre capitaine nous arrête
à quelques mètres de l’immense plage de Saliesbury Plain, peuplée de
manchots royaux : la troisième colonie la plus importante au monde ;
130 000 couples !! C’est à la
fois impressionnant et émouvant de voir cette marée de pingouins, agglutinés
les uns aux autres pour faire face au vent tempétueux et glacial, sur cette
plage sans fin…
Cette
vision est complètement hors réalité humaine, et ce décalage total assène d’un
coup la dimension sauvage, extrême de cette île du bout du monde…
10 octobre : traversée de Possession
Bay à Antartic Bay (1ère journée de la traversée de Shackelton)
Une
rampe sur le glacier de Possession Bay, exposée aux chutes de sérac, nous
permet de prendre pied sur l’immense plateau glaciaire. Le temps est hésitant…
Lumières blafardes hivernales, ambiance mystérieuse où d’inquiétantes pyramides
noires se dressent vers le ciel comme les sentinelles d’un royaume interdit… Le
groupe est loin devant moi, comme de petits insectes figés par le gel…
Au
col, la visi ne s’améliore pas et tout se confond ! les sentinelles
nous avaient bien mis en garde ; ce versant n’est vraiment pas
accueillant..
Les
pentes sont raides et crevassées, elles se perdent « en bas »
dans un jour blanc, usant nerveusement. On s’encorde en laissant beaucoup
d’espace, et notre trace d’abord montante, finit par plonger sur ces pentes de
plus en plus fuyantes : 2 heures pour faire 200m de descente dans une neige
foireuse, au-dessus de séracs et barres rocheuses, à éviter les crevasses à
peine visible… On finit quand même par sortir de ce traquenard, et rejoindre
des pentes douces plus accueillantes.
C’est
sur le dernier plat que les premières rafales se font sentir ; j’étais à
l’arrière du groupe et je voyais toutes les cordes dessinées de grandes
ellipses adossées au vent ! Puis c’est nous qui avons fini par courber le
dos, s’arcboutant sur nos bâtons, le temps du bref passage de ces puissants
rafales. Un avant-goût des fameux vents catabatyques qui font peur à tout le
monde ?…
La
fin du glacier est un mur bleuté planté dans les eaux couleur menthe à l’eau d’Antartic
Bay. Nous surplombons la baie sans pouvoir deviner où descendre ! De son
bateau Dion nous indique par radio, la petite porte de sortie du glacier ;
une traversée suspendue au-dessus de l’eau qui donne accès au rivage sans
plage… Sublime…
Superbe
journée bien que stressante, dans un cadre extraordinaire !
11 octobre : traversée Antartic Bay
à Fortuna Bay (2ème journée de la traversée de Shackelton)
Jean-Marc
s’est levé dès 5 heures pour capter les magnifiques lumières du ciel, et les
curieuses formes des nuages travaillés par le vent… Il fait beau et
froid ; les « growlers » (petits icebergs) ont envahi la baie,
l’ambiance est définitivement polaire .
Nous
trouvons un point de faiblesse dans le glacier et grimpons skis sur le dos, un
raide mur de neige. Chris et Luis à bord du dinguy nous surveillent, au cas où
l’un d’entre nous serait tenté de glisser sur ce tobbogan naturel qui finit
directement à l’eau ! Cette escalade facile au cœur du glacier et de la
baie est géniale…
Au-dessus
le glacier s’adoucit comme hier, pour devenir immensément vaste et plat. C’est
parti pour une dizaine de bornes, ambiance Spitsberg ! De magnifiques pics
aux parois sévères se dressent au loin, habillés de linceuils nuageux en
perpétuel mouvement.
Il
fait chaud mais chaque coup de vent fait chuter instantanément la
température !... Après le pique-nique nous rejoignons le col traversé par
Shackleton en mai 1916, en vue de Fortuna Bay. Son itinéraire passe par le
vallon de droite mais nous sommes vraiment attirés par celui de gauche !
Nous
nous laissons griser par nos virages dans cette douce combe… Mais celle-ci se transforme
peu à peu en couloir, dont la sortie devient soudainement hypothétique!
Jean-Marc s’approche prudemment de la forte rupture de pente, et me fait venir
pour que je surveille ses premiers virages.
Le
premier ressaut raide franchi, il reste à trouver la sortie de ce couloir sans
issue! Jean-Marc passe alors un éperon et plonge finalement facilement dans un
vallon secondaire, pour déboucher sur l’immense plage de Fortuna Bay. Nous nous
retrouvons au milieu d’une grosse colonie de manchots royaux, que nous prenons
soin de ne pas effrayer… Animaux placides mais merveilleux avec leur plumage
aux couleurs vives, gris et orange !
Tout
le monde a la banane après cette somptueuse journée, d’autant plus que Jakes
vient d’apprendre que l’on a battu les anglais en quart de finale de coupe du
monde de rugby ! Steve et Chris sont déçus, Jiji et Jakes exultent comme
des gosses et jacassent comme des pies pour déterminer à qui en revient le
mérite : Les quatre basques de l’équipe nationale ou l’entraîneur
catalan ???...
13 octobre : visite du musée de
grytviken, la réalité des stations baleinières
Après
une magnifique traversée de la baie de Maiviken jusqu’au sommet du Mont Hodges,
un couloir étroit nous dépose sur le quai de Grytviken… 8 personnes vivent à
l’année ici, ravitaillé par bateau depuis les Falklands. L’administration
locale a aménagé un petit musée qui parle de l’île, de sa faune et flore, des
différentes explorations… Mais le plus intéressant pour moi aura été le
témoignage qu’il représente, de la vie des « pêcheurs-tueurs » de
baleines.
La
graisse de baleine était alors l’équivalent de notre pétrole actuel et on s’en
est longtemps servi pour un tas de choses de notre vie courante :
Les
grandes quantités d’huile servaient pour l’éclairage, le chauffage , la
cuisine, le graissage des mécaniques de précision, les produits cosmétiques. L’ambre
gris servait à fixer les parfums, et la viande salée était consommée. Les os
servaient comme matériau et le cuir était utilisé dans la fabrication de
ceintures.
Quant
aux fanons ils étaient utilisés dans la fabrication des parapluies et corsets.
A
l’époque la demande était donc forte, la pêche très rentable : c’était un
moyen sûr de faire de l’argent en peu de temps.
Un
recueil de témoignages explique pourquoi ces marins anglais et norvégiens
signait pour minimum deux ans dans cet enfer rouge de sang, aux odeurs
permanentes de mort. L’appât du gain d’abord pour la plupart, puis venait la
fascination de l’île... Et enfin une ambiance de camaraderie peu commune ;
difficile de vivre sans, quand on y avait goûter ! Bref les marins
revenait souvent pour une nouvelle saison, même si les conditions de travail
étaient très difficiles et dangereuses.
Ce
qui m’a choqué c’est l’organisation industrielle avec laquelle on tuait à grande
échelle le plus gros mammifère vivant… Une extermination ahurissante, une
boucherie phénoménale, symptomatique de notre prédation sur la planète!
Avec
le progrès technique (bateaux plus rapides, chasse au harpon explosif) le
rapport de force s’inverse, et en 1917, une flottille tue à elle seule plus de
4000 baleines au large des côtes de Géorgie du Sud…
En
1930 on estime à 50 000 le nombre de baleines bleues tuées sur toutes les mers
du globe !
Les
330 000 baleines vivant en antartique au début du XXème siècle ne sont plus que
quelques milliers aujourd’hui, et au cours de ce mois d’octobre 2011, en 32
jours de mer et 4000 miles parcourus, nous n’avons vu aucune baleine, pas même
aperçu un souffle aux jumelles !...
En
1960 toutes les stations baleinières ferment, du jour au lendemain, en laissant
tout sur place ! des tonnes de victuailles et de carburant, des bateaux, du
matériel de cuisine, de pêche, de l’outillage en tout genre ; cela leur
coûtait plus cher de tout ramener… Ces vestiges hantent encore bon nombre de
baies de la côte Nord et ne seront plus démanteler maintenant ; on a
préféré en faire des musées à ciel ouvert, même s’il est totalement interdit
d’y pénétrer pour raisons de sécurité !
Je
récapitule : on assassine sans état d’âme pendant plus d’un siècle. Quand « la
chose » est finie par manque de rentabilité, on laisse tout pourir et
rouiller… Et comble de l’ironie, on le justifie en classant les vestiges et
l’oeuvre des ces marins patrimoine historique, et ce sur une île dont on veut
sanctuariser la nature !!! L’Homme n’en n’est pas à une contradiction
près, mais je m’interroge toujours sur l’immense décalage entre l’évolution
lente de nos consciences, et celle (trop rapide !) de nos techniques…
16 octobre : journée à St Andrew bay
Une
courte navigation un peu houleuse aura eu raison de la moitié de l’effectif !
Aujourd’hui le zodiac nous dépose en petit comité, à St Andrew Bay. Le vent est
fort et glacial et ne faiblira pas de toute la journée.
Nous
avons l’ambition de faire une grande boucle sur les glaciers Heaney et
Buxton, pour approcher les hauts sommets de la chaîne de Salverse qui sont plus
proche de la côte à cet endroit. Mais les distances sont trompeuses, et le col
envisagé, impraticable. Qu’importe, nous découvrons un autre passage qui nous permet
de basculer sur le glacier Buxton.
Cartes
et GPS ne suffisent pas sur ce terrain accidenté, et il y a quelque chose de
vraiment grisant à trouver son chemin uniquement en lisant le terrain, en imaginant
un itinéraire pas à pas !
Derrière
le col, hésitation; la neige glacée en surface n’est pas très engageante à
ski…Elle ne pardonnerais aucune chute et tout en bas, les crevasses veillent
comme les crocodiles au soleil ; la gueule ouverte… Nous descendons donc
en crampons, encordés et skis sur le sac, mais sans frustration : nous
parcourons ce terrain alpin heureux, en symbiose avec les éléments, en
admiration devant le chaos de cette barrière de sérac qui nous fait face…
Le
retour sur St Andrew Bay est ahurissant ! Nous skions au ralenti au milieu
de milliers de manchots qui squattent toutes les collines dominant la baie… Nos
oreilles sont remplis de leurs chants métalliques, et nos narines ne peuvent
éviter les odeurs nauséabondes provenant tantôt de leurs excréments verdâtres,
ou des nombreux cadavres des nourissons…
Ces
derniers, tout habillés de duvet marron, sont vraiment craquant ! Ils sont
très curieux et viennent volontiers par petits groupes à notre rencontre, puis
s’arrêtent à un mètre et nous observent… Soudain l’un d’entre eux détale en
zigzagant et en battant des ailes frénétiquement, et s’affale maladroitement
sur ces petits frères!!...
Ici
le beau et l’émouvant côtoient le cruel et la fragilité de la vie…
Plus
loin nous nous retrouvons coincé entre un large torrent fougueux et les
femelles éléphant de mer qui ne nous voit pas d’un bon œil, si proches de leur
progéniture ! On s’est un peu fourvoyé sur le chemin du retour et on en
mène pas large : Imaginez la côte d’Azur en plein été et remplacez les
touristes entrain de cuire au soleil par des milliers d’éléphants de
mer !! Les mâles braillent et se dressent pour défendre leur harem
(environ un mâle pour 100 femelles !) et malheur au p’ti jeunôt qui lorgne
sur l’une d’entre elles : il se fait chasser manu militari par le doyen !
C’était
une journée ordinaire de ski en Géorgie du Sud…
19 octobre : Navigation dans Drygalski
fjord : austère et inquiétant mais incroyablement beau !
la
traversée de Wirik Bay à Salomon Bay fût une magnifique journée ensoleillée. En
haut du premier col nous repèrons un beau sommet planté au milieu du glacier ;
ce sera l’objectif du jour… Il fait tellement chaud qu’on s’octroie même une
petite sieste au sommet !
Après
une superbe descente et une impasse sur la rive droite du glacier, Dion vient
nous récupérer sur la plage de la rive gauche et nous annonce que nous pouvons
entrer dans le Fjord Drygalsky. Ce n’est pas toujours possible car quand le
vent se lève sur les hauts sommets de l’île, il s’accélère en descendant sur le
glacier ? et déferle sur le fjord avec une force inouïe ! Aujourd’hui
nous n’aurons que 60 noeuds de vent quand nous arriverons au bout du fjord…
Dès
l’entrée de l’étroiture, de hautes pyramides rocheuses noires nous font une
haie d’honneur impressionnante… Plus loin ces vertigineuses parois se parent de
fines et longues goulottes de glace, tandis que les sommets prennent une allure
patagonienne. A leur pied les glaciers se succèdent ; un défilé de séracs
menaçants, bleu translucide, taillés à la hache, posés en équilibre instable…
Une
nature « brut de coffrage », inhospitalière, dans une ambiance
austère renforcée par le vent qui hurlait dans les haubans du bateau !
Le
soir Dion nous met à l’abris dans le frère tranquille du Dryglasky :
Larssen Harbour… L’ange après le démon, ce petit canyon est un hâvre de paix ;
nous y passerons trois jours…
Larsson
Harbour abrite les derniers phoques de Wedell. Ils vivent normalement sur la
banquise et celle-ci était présente encore il y a quelques décénnies. Avec le
réchauffement climatique la glace a disparu du fjord, et bientôt ces
magnifiques phoques, trop peu nombreux pour péréniser leur colonie, suivront le
même chemin.
Leurs
chants de sirène pénètraient la coque du bateau, et ont bercé chacune de mes
nuits dans ce fjord intime à l’extrême sud de l’île…
21 octobre : Mount Senderens et
traversée sur Trollhull : une des plus belles journées de ma vie
d’alpiniste…
Nous
avons eu le feu vert de l’administration anglaise pour tenter cette
traversée ! Très peu de skieurs-alpinistes la font : soit à cause du
mauvais temps très fréquent dans cette partie de l’île, ou parce que la récupération
peut-être difficile sur la côte sud de l’île, dûe à la forte houle.
Tôt
le matin le « mur » fermant le fjord Larssen Harbour est vite avalé
et nous débouchons au soleil sur un petit plateau glaciaire. C’est une belle
journée froide et ventée et nous sommes déterminés à grimper sur un des sommets
qui nous entourent ! Ce sera le Mount Senderens (1200m), trônant au bout
d’un glacier crevassé qui nous oblige une nouvelle fois à nous encorder, à la montée
et la descente. L’arête finale que nous remontons en piolet et crampons, est
d’une esthétique grisante, innoubliable…
Le
décor n’en finit pas d’être somptueux, grandiose… Une ambiance de haute
altitude, un univers glaciaire peuplés de pics acérés encapuchonnés de glace, semblant
innaccessibles tellement leur versants semblent complexes… Et « en
bas », la mer… turquoise comme aux Antilles !
L’émotion
est forte, toute la journée, les cœurs débordent de cette beauté sauvage,
inhospitalière mais totalement addictive…
L’arrivée
sur Trollhull donne le vertige tellement on se sent au bout du monde… La seule
terre plus au sud, c’est l’Antartique !
En
cette fin de journée un gigantesque lenticulaire à quatre spires nous salue
avec complicité… Cette journée divine était un cadeau du ciel ! merci de
ta clémence…
23 octobre : la plage de Gold
Harbour ; coup de foudre pour cette baie insolite !
Après
deux jours de mauvais temps nous sommes partis du mouillage de Larssen Harbour
pour remonter la côte Nord, jusqu’à Gold Harbour.
Gold
Harbour est une très belle baie au dessin parfait, peuplée de milliers d’animaux
(encore ???!!!...), fermée par un glacier suspendu au-dessus d’une haute
falaise.
La
lumière du soir était très douce quand nous avons mis pied à terre pour une
immersion totale dans la faune habituelle, présente en plus grand nombre à
cause de l’approche du pic de la période de reproduction.
L’activité
des éléphants de mer était intense. Entre deux joutes territoriales un mâle a
vainement tenté de s’accoupler avec une femelle récalcitrante qui l’a boudé
sans rien lâcher ! C’était assez amusant de le voir se coller à la
femelle, elle s’écarter et lui revenir à l’attaque, poser hypocritement sa
nageoire sur le corps de celle-ci en espérant l’attendrir… Ca ne vous rappelle
pas quelqu’un ?...ou quelqu’une ??...
Les
bébés éléphants de mer eux sont attendrissants dans leurs enveloppes noires, pareil
à un babygro taillé trop grand pour eux! Mais ils peuvent vite faire le
festin des skuas et des pétrels géants qui guettent immobiles, souvent à moins
d’un mètre des petits, à l’affût de la moindre faiblesse…
Nous
sommes restés lontemps avec les jeunes manchots regroupés en nurserie… Ce sont un peu les coqueluches des
plages, gauches et naïfs, certains n’hésitaient pas à nous suivre un peu
partout ! Leur duvet épais et brun leur donne l’aspect d’une peluche, et
il faut vraiment se répéter qu’on n’est pas de leur monde pour ne pas céder à
la tentation de les toucher !
De
temps en temps quelques pingouins papous sortent de l’eau comme des fusées,
après une nage rapide ponctuée de sauts comme font les dauphins.
Les
papous sont plus petits que les royaux, le bec moins hautain et leurs bouilles
plus friponnes laissent penser qu’ils pourraient être coquins !...
Les
otaries mâles, imposantes (500kg) commencent à peupler les plages et à marquer
leur territoire. En attendant la venue des femelles encore en mer, ils se
mettent en poste, immobiles, le museau pointé vers le ciel comme pour se
grandir au maximum, et impressionner leur voisin.
Partout
des oiseaux volent, nagent, paradent !
Le
skua est gris sombre et a le regard menaçant ! il assume parfaitement son
rôle de charognard des plages….
Le
petrel géant est un oiseau imposant, qui a la réputation d’être insatiable,
goinfre ! Sa panse une fois trop pleine, l’handicape sérieusement au
décollage, et il est obligé de « pédaler sur l’eau » pour s’arracher
à l’attraction terrestre !
Si
sa parade nuptiale est comique à souhait, celle des magnifiques cormorans est
un accord parfait, au centième de seconde, de mouvements gracieux de leurs
têtes au long cou… un moment rare de grâce pure…
Le
vol du Damier du Cap ou celui du pétrel des neiges font rêver… Ils dégagent une impression de
légèreté, totale liberté… On a passé des heures à les regarder danser, en
montagne ou en mer.
Enfin
les albatros, oiseaux emblématiques des pôles, ne sont pas qu’une légende, même
si nous en avons peu vu !
Le ?
est une pure merveille tellement son plumage composé d’un riche dégradé de gris
est doux et harmonieux à l’œil.
Le
wanderer est l’un des plus grands oiseau au monde ! Chapeau bas quand on
sait qu’il est capable de faire 8000km pour aller chercher la pitance de son
oisillon...
27
octobre : ascension de la pointe 1672m, Iris bay : Belle réussite à
force d’obstination…
Il
aura fallu des heures de lecture de carte, de recherches dans les documents
narrant les explorations de l’île du milieu du siècle, plusieurs journées de
repérage, d’échec à traverser le glacier Herz, une nuit sur le même glacier
dans les bourrasques tempêtueuses, avant que l’ultime tentative se transforme
en réussite !...
Rien
d’héroïque ou d’extrême dans cette réalisation, juste la satisfaction d’avoir
eu raison de persévérer, d’avoir dénicher un magnifique itinéraire à ski,
logique et sûr….
Au
sommet, en embrassant le panorama, je ressens fortement cette sensation
d’accomplissement, d’être aller au bout d’un projet rêvé, né il y a quatre ans…
Aussi
belle que puisse avoir été cette aventure, elle ne peut me faire oublier que le
changement climatique est bel et bien en route…
Impossible
de passer sous silence les 5 hivers secs que vient de vivre l’île, impossible
de ne pas s’étonner d’avoir subi pluies et températures clémentes, là où on aurait
dû avoir tempêtes de neige et froids glacials,
impossible
de ne pas s’inquiéter, quand on observe sur la carte marine de l’écran de
l’ordi, notre bateau naviguer sur des glaciers qui étaient là il y a encore 7
ans…
On
peut ergoter sur notre part de responsabilité ou non dans le réchauffement
climatique, mais on ne peut nier le fait même, de ce réchauffement.
Norvège,
Islande, Mongolie, Groenland et aujourd’hui Géorgie du Sud… Sur toutes ces
parties du monde proches des pôles j’ai vu les effets exacerbés de ce
réchauffement.
Comment
prendre en compte cette réalité et adapter mon mode de vie, mon travail et les
déplacements liés à mon activité ? Si je perçois les décisions qu’il
faudrait prendre je n’ai pas le courage de les appliquer, je n’ai pas encore de
réponse « acceptable ». Mais au retour de ce voyage, je ressens encore
plus fortement l’urgence d’en trouver….
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