The Northern Patagonian Ice Cap is a difficult thing to put into words or even into pictures. A massive expanse of snow, ice and rock faces that begs to be explored. But also so remote it will make you feel like you are in antarctica. It was the first time I have ever seen a beautiful, prominent peak that had never been climbed. It was also the first time that I thought "I might be in trouble. I might die."

The Storm Begins

The story begins on day 14 or 15 of our expedition. We just had a beautiful ascent of Pico Naranja the day prior. We were drying our gear and preparing for a little down time. The weather forecasted a 3-day storm was approaching. We prepared our camp and got ready to get some use out of the snow walls we worked so hard to make.

The Storm Intensifies

The first couple days of the storm passed quite nicely. minimal damage to the snow walls had occurred and we were getting excited to get out of the tents and get back to it. When the weather report came in our hearts had sunk. another storm had moved in on top of the current system. A storm on top of a storm. The next system would cause the westerly winds to turn to easterlies. So we turned our snow walls into an encompassing fortress. As the storm intensified dig shifts began.

You know, dig shifts aren't so bad. sure, getting up at 2 or 4 am to put on frozen gear to go outside in a screaming blizard and dig for up to an hour just so your tent doesn't get buried and collapses with you in it is not fun. But after you're finished you get to crawl into a nice, (hopefully) dry sleeping bag and relax until your next shift. Poor erik pictured above did not have the luxury of a dry bag.

6 Days of the storm had passed. A group meeting was called.

The Unthinkable Happens, Again

It happened again, a storm on top of a storm. Another predicted 3 day storm that will top the previous two systems. We democratically argued our options to stay and try to finish the traverse or to leave the way we came with our tails tucked under our legs. The decision was close, but to stay was the final decision. Critical damage to the snow walls was repaired and we resumed wasting our time reading, arguing, and trying to be productive. The storm raged on and tent insanity set in.

The Great Escape: Prologue

The next few days passed slowly as morale was dropping and as the supply of cigarettes was nil. Doubts entered my mind as I gained an appreciation and hatred for patagonian weather. 'The alpinist intends, the weather decides'. Day 8 of the storm had came and another group meeting was called. This time, there was no discussion.

Nearly 2 meters of snow will fall a day accompanied by gusts reaching 130k/hr with a steady 100k/hr starting the day after tomorrow and ending another 7 days from today. everything would be torn to shreds. Our only chance was to leave tomorrow, in the screaming whiteout. We tried to get some sleep through the dig shifts.

Morning came fast and packing camp without anything blowing away was a miracle. We began the escape from the storm.

The Great Escape: She Shows her Teeth

We were pretty happy to get moving. Even if it was a retreat. From here things became hard to remember. We would not stop for food, water, layer changes or anything else. I couldn't check my watch so I have no clue how long we were walking. I couldn't see the front of the team and I knew the leader could only see his GPS. which obviously was not doing a good job judging by how many turns we were making. We had to walk in a straight line and avoid the crevasse field to our left and the largo massif to our right that drops an icefall avalanche every 5 min. I wasn't sure if I was hearing avalanches close by or hearing a gust coming but either way it made me hope it wasn't going to hit me. Somewhere between 4-6 hours later the wind picked up fiercely.

While in my mind trying to escape the situation I suddenly felt like I was hit by a car. My feet were taken out from under me and I began sliding. Did I fall down a slope? A few seconds later I came to a stop and looked around to find I was still on flat ground. Everyone was lying down and I heard someone yell "Wow! that one got everyone!" the wind began gusting hard enough to turn our flat ground to a 45 degree snow slope and send us where ever it dictated. we broke out the axes and started to make the routine of anchoring to the ground when hit by a gust.

About 3(?) hours later we got to the edge of the ice cap. All that was left was to navigate a series truly pathetic snow bridges and stay out of the scattered crevasses. The next 100 meters took nearly 3 hours to get past. we would walk 8 steps, self arrest in the gust, walk 8 more and have a crevasse fall. It came down to probing every step. We were all shivering violently and soaked to the bone except the lead who was probably a little freaked out after 6 crevasse falls back to back. All I could do was wait. And suck on my beard for a little bit of water to nourish the dehydration. Those 100 meters took hours more than it should have.

Wonderfully, solid ground came. As did the wind but we did not care because the whiteout was much less severe of the ic. On the way out I saw something I would never forget. A waterfall that went straight up into the sky. Water from the heavy stream above flowed down the rock and just as it came to the cliff the wind would lift it right out of gravity's hands. That deserved a picture, but I don't plan on going back to give it that honor. Around midnight, I began one of the best nights of sleep I had ever.

A Debriefing

For the next 7 days we could hear miles away the roaring scream of the ice cap expressing it's anger of our retreat. surprisingly, there were smiles on all of our faces. Even erik, who tore a muscle and broke his hip belt from the storm.

From the top of Pico Naranja.

And this is the team. Left to right: Robert (me), Alex, Erik, Scott, Jesse.

I have heard stories of patagonia weather and all I have to say is it will either be absolutely great or a complete shit-show. But it sure is worth the coin-flip.