Vestfold Hills Death March Revisited.

Remember this post: Death March Through The Vestfold Hills? A mission I undertook early in December 2009 during my first stint in Antarctica as part of my survival training? If you know what I'm talking about, you are also likely to remember the details of this Death March: raw blisters upon blisters forming on the backs of my ankles, path-less routes that led us to the precipices of Death Lake where I had to harness all my mountain-goating abilities, and a backpack that was hell-bent upon sending me to an early grave - all done within 24 hours.

It was not pretty. And it struck the fear, horror and TERROR of the Vestfold Hills in my very psyche and I vowed, "Never shall I walk ANYWHERE in the Vestfold Hills if it is in ANY WAY connected to the word Training".

I stuck by that rule pretty good too. Subsequently after the Death March, I turned down all invitations to do any forms of Field Travel Training (think Death March, but lengthened to 3 full days of walking FML what sick joke is this??) and entreaties to go out for further Survival Trai Death Marches 'for fun' (was exempt from this because I had already done my time and a Survi Death March certificate is valid for 3 years OH YEA!).

However, as yours truly will now be a Winterer for the 2012 Winter season (did you get that?), it is compulsory that I do my Field Travel Training. When I first found out about this little detail, my blood ran cold in my veins and the backs of my ankles started throbbing with the memories of Ghosts of Blisters Past (possibly similar to the Phantom Limb syndrome that amputees experience). I was in the process of steeling myself for the eventual torture, when I was informed that my FTT would be an advanced one, whereby we would only walk for half a day from one hut to another, NO bivvying outside in the cold, AND, after spending the night in a warm hut, we would be riding quads back to a set destination where we would be picked up by a helicopter and taxi-ed back to base.

Althought slightly sceptical and hesitant, I could see no flaw in the proposal and said Yes. The walk follows a pretty well known route across the ice plateau and I would be visiting one of the huts I'd never seen before.

Alright, President of the USA, SIGN ME UP.



The day started off fine, we were choppered out to Platcha Hut and from there, we climbed up the ice scour and got onto the plateau, easy. Before we had set out, I even took the initiative to wrap both ankles with 50 meters of gauze tape to stop any possible skin chafing or blisters from forming (pays to be attentive). The walk started out good, it was a GREAT day for it (clear sky, sunshine, no wind) and I thought to myself, yea...this might not be too hard.



2 hours into the walk, I felt a few hotspots forming on my ankles. FUCK. I realised then that all the gauze tape in the world would not come between me and my blister-affinitied ankles. I gave up, resigned myself to my fate and continued trudging on.



The sights were amazing though and it put my mind off a lot of the pain. There weren't any Death Lakes to mountain-goat across and the plateau was pretty much a flattish area without hateful rocks that try to trip you up, so the walk was relatively easy.




About 3/4 of the way to our end-destination, our FTO (field training officer) brought us down this huge ice scour for lunch...he called it a 'Place of Breath-Taking Beauty'. Being a sceptic, I, (naturally) threatened him that if my breath was not taken away, I would demand for a refund from the Management. His words held true, however, and my breath was knocked out of me. It was possibly one of the prettiest and most awe-inspiring sights I'd ever seen, and I congratulated our FTO for his great sense of aesthetic beauty.




The climb OUT of the wind scour was sheer agony, though, and thank the stars we had cramp-ons on our shoes because there was no way in hell we would have been able to scramble out of the scour on slippery ice. My blisters started a chorus again and no amount of cursing in every spoken dialect I knew could drown out the pain. Never mind. C'est la vie.



Out of the wind scour, we made our way to the Trajer Ridge Melon (stop for the night) and it took us about an hour's walk on flat ice to get there. By that time, the chorusing of my blisters had died down to a slight whimper, and I confess I allowed a wee bit of smug satisfaction to enter my countenance, knowing that my brain was overcoming my pain.



Finally, Trajer Ridge Melon. 6 hours and 27 minutes later. I peeled off my socks and realised that I DIDN'T have any blisters after all! The 50 meters of gauze tape preserved my ankles, although they were badly worn-through! I shuddered to think what my ankles would've been like if I hadn't applied any pre-emptive measures.




Spent the night shivering in my sleeping bag because there was a hole in the roof of the melon, and cold air was slowly seeping and sinking down to where we laid sleeping. Woke up the next day to yet another glorious morning and made our way back to station. All in all, a great trip. And what made it even better, is that I now have my Field Travel Training component ticked off and valid for the next 3 years, AND I didn't have to do the full 3-day pre-requisite. Major WIN. It's like scoring a Buy-1-Get-3-Free deal. My chinese upbringing was singing and patting me on the back for a good deal sealed.