104 Australian Geographic
A
S PREDICTED, OUR glorious weather window opened up
on day 13 but we made the difficult decision to leave
the climb to the next day – our last – on the chance the
rock would dry off and the waterfalls would subside. Mark and
Mick organised their climbing equipment, Simon pulled the
camera gear out of the rice-filled ziplock bags where it had been
shielded from the relentless moisture and Andy disassembled the
mess tent for reassembly on the summit as a four-person bivvy
in case of emergencies.
That night, as we ate dinner beneath a brilliant Milky Way,
the team was abuzz with anticipation. We were all acutely aware
that 24 years earlier Mark had been part of a team that had failed
an attempt to climb Federation Peak via Blade Ridge. And in
a shared knowing moment, we embraced in a circle as Mark
highlighted our priorities by quoting the famed British climber
Roger Baxter-Jones: “Come back alive, come back friends, get
to the top. In that order.”
As we went to bed below the mountain, a blanket of ice
crystals grew over the camp, and I awoke before dawn to a bit-
terly cold but beautiful winter wonderland, with frost everywhere
and frozen socks thawing atop the steaming coffee pot. At 6am
Andy departed with Mark and Mick in a chorus of good wishes
for a two-hour bash through dense overgrown forest to the base
of the climb.
As first light painted the cirrus clouds pink, I poured hot water
into my frozen boots and threw on my pack. Dan’s mission was
to hike to the summit via the Bushwalkers Route to abseil down
the North West Face to capture footage. Simon and I were headed
towards the eastern ridge where we could film the Blade.
Micro-spikes aided our scramble up. I set up my tripod and
peered down into the amphitheatre. Three razor-sharp steps rose
from an abyss of spiralling mist. Brilliant warm light filtered
through the chilled heavy air, illuminating the Blade’s three sheer
flaked ridges that led up to the massif of Federation Peak, where
the North West Face reared up, waiting for Mark and Mick.
We estimated it would take a couple of hours for the climb-
ers to reach the top of the first ridge. The hours ticked past and
my eyes stung from the wind blasting up the gully. I thought of
Dan dangling uncomfortably in his harness on the North West
Face. Finally, just as I was warming a camera battery against my
skin, Mick flopped onto the first step at a very delayed 1pm.
Loose blocks, questionable anchor points and prickly scoparia
bushes had slowed his and Mark’s ascent.
Simon and I captured the action as, for three long hours, Mark
and Mick swung leads up. They arrived at the top of Blade Ridge
cold, dehydrated and fatigued. It had taken them longer than
expected to get to the North West Face and in fading light they
weighed up the risks of continuing to climb into the night with
dropping temperatures. A few days earlier Mick had declared
he’d “never seen rock so wet that I’ve still wanted to climb so
much”. As night fell, they made the decision to carry on.
One by one stars came out to join the two minuscule head-
lamps that had begun to scale the ominous black wall – Mark’s
chance to make up for his previous failed attempt. They made
good time, until dancing shadows revealed Mick struggling close
to the top.
Dan, hanging above him, filmed as Mick jammed his blood-
ied hands into the cracks of the 45-degree angled roof – the
hardest part of the climb. Suddenly a tiny beam of light hurtled
down the face. It came to an abrupt stop, a crazed wail reverber-
ated up the wall and we knew one of them had slipped. “I really
didn’t think the gear would hold,” Mick later admitted.F
IFTEEN LONG hours after their day began, Mark and Mick
reached the summit under a crescent moon. It then took
another two hours for them to abseil down the gully.
We’d achieved – although only just – both our objectives: to
complete and film a first winter ascent. Unbeknown to most of
the team, the drone that was giving a bird’s-eye view to our film
had almost plummeted into the gully, twice, after discharging its
own propellers.
Back at camp, reunited, we sat in stunned silence, passing around
a beaten-up plastic bottle of celebratory Glenfiddich, as Mick
rocked in agony holding his feet. The evening was eerily still, even
though an Antarctic weather system was blasting our way.
Our near future involved dry clothes, fresh oranges and fried
eggs, but these luxuries seemed of little consequence. A strange
feeling of emptiness fell on the group – an anticlimax. Clearly
the journey we’d shared was of greater value than completing the
climb and the film.
Andy sighed and leant back to take in the sky. In a quiet
understatement he observed, “Wilderness evokes something in
the human spirit that is really difficult to define.”LEARN more about the expedition at http://www.winterontheblade.com
A film will be released in late 2017.AGThe evening was eerily still,
even though an Antarctic
weather system was blasting.
Mark Savage (at left) and
Mick Wright made the
most of light rains to
explore the mountain
before their final attempt
at scaling Federation Peak.PHOTO CREDIT: DAN HALEY