CAPE FAREWELL -- KAYAKING THE MOUNTAINS (1)

Ian Walton

There was a lot of gear on the beach. In fact one and a quarter ton of the stuff made a gigantic heap of boxes; and it all had to be carried on our backs from the ocean to the inland lake. The only constructive thing to do at that point was to break out the Carlsberg - one of the more welcome donations to the expedition. We had also received a donation of McEwans at home in Scotland, but of course it had to be drunk before we ever left. Otherwise we might have had to pay import duty to get all those crates into Greenland.

For the beach that the ten of us now adorned was in Southwest Greenland, on Tasermiut Fjord, and just a little north of Cape Farewell. We were all from the University of St. Andrews on Scotland's north sea coast (2). We had come to explore and make first ascents of mountains near this coastal fjord - a bleak sandwich of rock between the offshore ice pack and the inland ice cap. And to make all this possible we had brought five ocean kayaks - Tyne Folding Boats - carefully dismantled and stowed in some of that huge pile of crates on the beach.

But despite all the impending labor, we were really glad to see that pile of equipment. It had left St. Andrews many months before and had gone first to Denmark (3). Then it went on a ship of K.G.H (Kongelige Gronlandske Handel), the Royal Greenland Trade Company and agent of the Danish government. All very official, but the ship got stuck in the pack ice and eventually went back to Denmark. So we innocently arrived by air and ferry via Keflavik, Narsarssuaq and Julienhaab; we arrived before the next freight ship; and that was unfortunate: that attractive heap of crates contained all our tents, our climbing gear, our food and of course the five precious kayaks.

No one was actually willing to admit to knowledge of Tyne boat assembly. But after a little work on the Carlsberg it was time to try our luck with the odd million pieces of wood frame, the rubberized canvas hull and the innumerable small brackets:

" Do you suppose it matters which way up this goes ? "

" Shouldn't this part have gone in first ? "

" Do these things really float ? "

" Does anyone care that I've never kayaked before ? "

Eventually we had one ready. The apprentices all tried it out, accompanied by veterans from previous expeditions who told stirring tales of paddling by moonlight through the mountainous waves of Scoresby Sund in East Greenland. These lunatic endeavors had a long and proud history at the University of St. Andrews.

I was relieved to find that our long sleek craft were not as unstable as I had feared. Being familiar with racing skulls where merely tilting your head can capsize the boat, I had been distinctly worried at the thought of pitching into the arctic ocean, followed by an assortment of climbing hardware. But the sea trials proved successful and we returned to the problem of transporting the kayaks -- and all that other stuff -- off the beach. The solution was to put base camp half way between the ocean and the lake and only move some of it; and then to just spend two days doing it. After all, we were here for ten weeks.

So several tiring days later I faced a new puzzle with the kayaks. There I was with one of them on the shore of the lake. And there beside it was a large stack of food boxes. The puzzle was to fit as many as possible of the very square boxes through the decidedly round gaps in the kayak frames, and still leave room for legs and other essential devices. I often thought that food supply trips were much more dangerous than any of the climbing we did: I had visions of hanging beneath the kayak, my feet firmly wedged behind two very solid boxes, and a primus stove floating past my nose. Some said that the survival time in water that cold was approximately four minutes; I wondered why we even bothered to wear life jackets.

The first trip up the lake proved to be the most exciting of all. We had failed to notice that the lake ran east - west, and so did all the summer storm tracks -- squeezed between the European and the Arctic summer high pressure zones. So one moment the lake would be calm and idyllic; and barely ten minutes later it could be whipped into rolling breakers that poured over the top of the kayak, seeking every chink in the spray cover. It's a strange sensation to feel the bow and stern of the kayak bend towards you at the same moment and a rush of water pour down your back and swirl around your ankles. So that first afternoon we barely made it half way up the lake before dumping the supplies from our overloaded kayaks onto a handy beach; then we turned tail and raced back to camp with a strong stern wind and the light kayaks surfing off the top of each wave.

Finally we would get down to some climbing, but not before I'd made a memorable solo supply run, after drawing the short straw. It was a beautiful day and I stopped for a touch of extra lunch on an island. But the kayak almost drifted away while I struggled with the self timer on my camera. Ah ! -- the things that climbers and kayakers will do for a photograph.

The climbing was split into two three week sessions and two separate groups of people. In total we made some thirty first ascents, using the kayaks for access and backpacking the rest of the way through the impenetrable birch and willow thickets. If you've tried to hike in Alaska then you know all about this stuff. Water was definitely the superior mode of travel. But there were some memorable moments:

There was the first night out on " Teepee " : six of us perched on a ledge watching the jets roar overhead for America and imagining the elegant dining on board -- olives somehow came to mind; we melted snow over a candle to drink, but a few hours later there was water everywhere as the rain started in earnest, and we had to retreat by abseiling down waterfalls at first light. Horrible!

There was the crevasse on " Splendisk ": I was leading down our tracks from the morning's ascent, drowsy in the afternoon's blistering sun. ' Suddenly I'm falling....... ' ' Funny my spreadeagle didn't help.....' But perched on a block of ice twenty feet below the surface, and unknown height above the icy bottom, I can see why. I had flung out my arms and legs parallel to the crevasse instead of across it. So then all I could do was wait for my friends to rescue me, and finally tiptoe nervously back to camp. Rumors that I brewed a pot of tea down there are totally exaggerated.

There was our midnight ascent of " Spontaneous ": We had already climbed one mountain that day; three of us decided to head for home and dinner; we other three climbed a long gully in gathering darkness to emerge on the summit ridge. We beheld a magical black panorama of mountains and cold fjords, hauntingly illuminated by an orange moon reflected in the twenty mile length of Prins Christians Sund (4).

There were the long damp days spent in the tents while the rain poured down and the winds howled off the glacier. And there were the stunningly beautiful days of Indian summer when the rock walls sparkled in the clear arctic air, and the green brush set off the crystal blue of the lakes. The Greenlanders called this " Quingadalen " - Valley of Paradise.

The last week we again used the kayaks to explore. Two hardy souls braved the turbulent exit river from the lake, capsized on a rock and were pursued downstream by the camera vultures on the bank. Two paddled across the fjord to explore " Kirkespiret " and the mountains to the north. Andrew and I took a two day trip up the fjord, towards the icecap. We explored ancient Nordic sites and finally reached St. Andrews Dal, the site of the 1960 expedition basecamp beneath the Yosemite - like walls of "Imaha ". " Imaha " is Greenlandic for ' perhaps '.

And ' perhaps ' is the essence of sea kayaking. As I write this I am again lying in a tiny tent listening to the incessant pounding of the rain in Aialik Bay, Alaska. The ice floes from the Holgate glacier are blockading the beach and the crashing surf rolling in from the Gulf of Alaska makes launching the Folbots impossible for today. Perhaps we'll leave tomorrow......... Perhaps you'll read about it someday........

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(1) University of St. Andrews Greenland Expedition , 1971 General Report, PWF Gribbon and expedition members.

(2) Idyllic film location of the beach in " Chariots of Fire "

(3) In those days Greenland was a constitutional part of the kingdom of Denmark; now it is independent .

(4) Near the location of the classic kayak journey of Gino Watkins across south Greenland. Gino Watkins by J.M. Scott 1935