19 May

Looking out onto the frozen sea.

Then to the plane. The Twin Otter is a very stubby plane. It has short fat wings mounted on top of the body and two propeller engines amounted on the wing tops. The body is short and fat. Not an elegant plane at all, but it's very good for this sort of thing - short runways, on dirt or snow. Inside half the seats had been removed and in their place was most of our gear, food and fuel, all strapped down. We were sat at the back looking over it all and through the doorway into the cockpit. The pre flight announcements were very informal, "We are ready to leave now, please fasten your seat belts, the flight to Danenborg will be about two hours". None of the standard things about the lifejacket under the seat, the emergency exits being at the front and rear and how to put your oxygen mask on. The plane was not pressurized so oxygen is pointless, and it never gets high enough to be a problem.

It was a short amble down the runway and we were in the air. These things can take off at 60mph! It was noisy with lots of vibrations and buffeting in the wind. Not a luxury jet by any means. The view was great. We had a cruising height of 3000m. Many of the mountains on the way to Danenborg are 2000m high so we got a great view of them and the glaciers coming down off them towards the sea. The sea was frozen all the way to the horizon. Most of the mountains are snow covered, but with sheer sides just made of rock. There were lots of flat plateau mountains in one area. It looked like one huge flat plateau had been cut into mountains simply by cutting deep, steep sided, valleys into the plateau. Another group of mountains were more alpine in character. Individual mountains, all of different heights, narrow ridges, spiky summits etc. Another range were more like big versions of the Yorkshire Dales, big and rolling, never too difficult. There are lots of places to see out there and little has yet been explored.

Flat-topped mountains with a fjord

More alpine mountains on the coast and the frozen sea behind

After about two hours we descended to Danenborg. This is a Sirius dog sled base and is also used for research during the summer. It's just above sea level and in summer they restock the base by boat, up the nearby fjord. On the flight over the base the runway seemed short, but once on the ground we seemed to taxi along half of it. Just to make it more interesting it's not flat, but slopes downhill. Also there was a bit of a cross wind and we landed leaning to one side. The airfield comprised of the gravel strip, two garden sheds and two lines of fuel drums. The main buildings were a little way away.

Danenborg Sirius dog sled base

Minimal airport facilities here, but a great view.

Once we had taxied to the garden sheds we were met by two ground attendants who shook hands and introduced themselves as we got out. Both were Danish and had been there all winter. We were the first people they had seen this year. It was still the winter crew on the base, five in total. I think the Sirius dog patrol is left over from the cold war. They spend weeks at a time out on sleds going along the coast looking for invaders - Russians I guess. It seems pointless to me; I'm sure modern radar technology would be much more efficient. One of the men said he had just got back from a month's tour the day before. Now he was acting as ground staff, getting three barrels of fuel into the scoop of a JCB and then using an electric pump to put it into the plane. Once that was done it turned out he was also a policeman and wanted to see our permit.

JCB with a barrel of fuel. The main group are talking to the Danish ground staff on the right.

Something I noticed there was that the colours were really vivid. It must be the low-angled light. The reds on the fuel barrels were really strong and I took some photos of just a red wind sock against a snow white background. The colours were amazing, both because of the intensity of the colours themselves, and because they really stood out against the nearly uniform white background of the snow.

The amazing intensity of the colours caused by the low sun.

The pilots spent ten minutes tinkering with the front ski. A cable had broken loose, nothing critical, but they wanted to tie it down. One of the Danes disappeared off in his JCB to the main building and returned a couple of minutes later with a split pin. We were soon off after that, on the last leg to Dronning Louise Land.

As we go further North the mountains become alpine in nature; long narrow ridges and more separated into individual mountains with glaciers between them.

Forty five minutes later we descended down from our cruising altitude and we soon picked out the mountains we could see on our aerial photos. For me they went past too quickly to get a real idea what they looked like in comparison to the photo. It was made worse by the fact we were circling while the pilots checked out the landing area and the best approach. They quickly decided and made a south to north landing into the wind coming off the ice cap. The planned landing area was wide open, probably two kilometres wide between the mountains and over 15km long so it was not a particularly hard job to find a spot to land. It was all reasonably flat as well. The pilots just glided down, landed, and stopped. They left one engine running and then helped us unload the plane. It was chilly in the wind so as soon as peoples sacs came out they dived in for more clothes. Within five minutes we had a big pile of sacs, food boxes, fuel cans and sleds. The pilot then posed by his plane while the copilot took a photo. This was the furthest north they had ever been and they wanted a photo of the event. We also took the opportunity to take photos of the pilot and plane before it disappeared for ten days leaving us totally on our own...

Unloading everything from the plane. The mountain behind is the first one we climbed, Dickens Bjerg.

The pilot posing before his plane

The plane leaves and we are all alone

We said our goodbyes and watched as it taxied back to where it had landed and then used the tracks it had made on landing as a runway to take off. It took off, climbed, turned and then disappeared behind a mountain. We were all alone.

Tents were the first priority, but after hearing the experiences of the other groups we were a bit paranoid about crevasses. Where we were looked perfectly fine. It was flat for miles around. You only get crevasses when the angle of the land changes so really we had nothing to worry about, but we wanted to be sure. Stary found the avalanche poles in one of the sleds and probed the area where he wanted to put his tent. Scott followed suit. It was solid snow for twenty feet, the length of the probes. So up went the tents, five in all. Petter and Alan, Paul and Stary, Scott and Gordon, John and Glen, and me on my own. I prefer being on my own. More space, less hassle, do what you want when you want, sleep diagonally, leave your smelly socks up to dry etc. It does have the disadvantage of being colder but I was hoping that would not be a problem.

Each tent also had a sled. I had a dinky little one where as the others had a two man sled. The bottom is a big plastic moulded bath tub, about 4 inches high, with integrated skis. On top is a strong bellows cover made from rucksack material with a double ended zip. They make great storage areas since they are snowproof. On the front is attached a towing harness which fastens around your waist. They are supposed to be much easier to use when carrying loads than having it on your back. We had intended to use them when we moved camp, but given the delay in getting out there, we were not sure if we would move camp.

Camp soon took shape and brews were made and then a toilet pit dug. Stary's experience showed here. He redesigned the first attempt. He dug a big hole, 7' x 5' and four foot deep. All the snow that came out was made into a wall around the hole. Then a slot 12 inches by 24 was cut into the floor of the hole, two feet deep. The depth and wall give it privacy and more important shelter from the biting wind.

It took me a couple of days to work out the snow shovel protocol. There were four snow shovels provided, which we used for shoveling snow, naturally. Every so often I would see one stuck in the wall of the pit. At first I thought nothing of it. Then I saw a few of the group take a shovel with them to the pit, leave it in the wall while they were busy and then pick it up afterwards. After two days I suddenly equated it - shovel equals occupied! The cold must have affected my reasoning capabilities. Up until then I was just looking out for a head bobbing up and down in the pit.

By four o'clock camp had taken shape and we decided not to waste the rest of the day. We had skipped lunch while on the plane (no in-flight services, very disappointing!) so we decided to have a meal and then do the mountain right on our doorstep. My food was packed with John's and Glen's in three person day packs, so Glen volunteered to cook for me. I boiled up some snow to help and then retreated back to my tent for shelter from the wind and cold. Once it was ready I then had to get out to collect my food. It was all very inconvenient, both the food and I getting cold during the transfer.

By six we were all ready and packed up to go. I was ready first so skied off. From the photo it looked like the summit was a steep sided ridge. It was not inviting to go straight up the side nearest to us, it looked like lots of loose scree and broken rock. The ridge itself look more attractive, a much easier angle. To get to it we had to travel along the glacier a short distance. I had said to Scott that I could not be bothered digging out my skis and changing boots etc - it was not far so I'd just walk - the snow was good and hard, easy to walk on. He replied it was deceptive. The air is so clear that distances are very hard to judge. Looking at the aerial photo we worked out it was over 2km. For that sort of distance skis are worth it.

I was surprised to find I was the first to arrive at the base of the ridge. I had got into a good rhythm and the wax was working well. The head start was the more important factor though. It looked like Petter was the last to leave camp, but arrived second. He was in leather ski touring boots rather than plastic boots I was in. He just took his skis off and set off walking. I took ten minutes changing boot before I set off up, by which time the rest had caught up and some had passed. The ridge turned out to be much wider than suggested on the photo. I think what we thought was a narrow ridge was actually the edge of a shadow. It was covered in rocks and boulders with patches of snow. This was the same as the other mountains we could see around. Once you got above the glacier the mountains were not snow covered except in sheltered gullies. The boulders were the size of water melons and unstable, moving around when you stood on them. I find this sort of terrain particularly hard going with my injured ankle. Unexpected movement of what I'm standing on can cause unexpected twists on the ankle, which are painful. Also I cannot quickly react to regain my balance. So I move very slowly and check each foot placement to make sure it will not move. I was probably third to last when I reached the summit. It was windy up there, cold from the wind chill. People did not want to stay around long, just take some photos, build a cairn and then head down. It was not a good place to get your bearing from, it was too much to one side and tucked behind other summits to see much. I did look across to another mountain neighbouring the camp and spotted an interesting route up.

Looking North from Dickens Bjerg.

West out onto the Greenland Ice Cap.

South to TWMC fjeld and Nunatak Dent in the foreground.

I was last back down to the skis, slow and cautiously plodding, but happy at my own pace. Scott was waiting at the bottom just to make sure I was OK so I explained more about my ankle; what it was good for and bad for. From then on he just left me to it at my own pace. Skiing back to camp I was just as fast, or slow, as everyone else.

So that was our first ascent of the expedition and a First Ascent. No one else had ever climbed that mountain. We later named it Dickens Bjerg and the GPS gave a height of 2275 meters. The campsite was at a height of 1870 meters, so it was an easy evening of 400 meters ascent and about 5km of skiing.

It got cold that night, the coldest night I think we had. It could just have been that my sleeping bag had not fully lofted and the tent needed time to warm up. I took my watch off and placed it into a tent pocket. I had to get up during the night and I found my watch said the temperature was -15°C. This is the lowest my watch reads. The next morning Alan said it had gone down to -25°C. If so this is the coldest temperature I've ever experienced. I've had -22°C in Finland one January. Alan kept track of the temperature while we where out there. During the day the temperature was normally around -10°C to -15°C in the shade. In the sun it was much warmer, normally around -4°C. In the tents it was even warmer. They act like greenhouses, heating the trapped air. It was generally just around freezing inside the tent. The wind made a big difference. If it was perfectly still it was possible to stand around outside talking. As soon as there was any wind the wind chill would drive us inside. When skiing it was possible to be in long sleeved thermals when there was no wind. As soon as the wind picked up you needed two or three layers to keep warm, plus gloves and a hat. Quite often my ears would get very cold, but mostly just the one to the west which got little sun.