Glowacz's close-up

Expedition Baffin Island, May 11: Stefan Glowacz’s blog on his adventurous journey to a wall to which nobody has ever been.

Saturday, May 10

Preparations. From tomorrow we’re going to stay on the wall. At the same time we sort food like Simpert Reiter for the next stage, the march to Clyde River. After returning from the face we’ll have to start back. Each day gets warmer. The lakes in the coves and under the rocks are getting bigger and bigger. We calculate at least 20 days for the march on the breaking ice. That means 100 bags of muesli, 100 bags of main meals, 100 bags of soup and 300 power bars.

Before we head to the wall we still have to pack up the camp and store the entire equipment and provisions at a secure height away from the bears. Exciting days are awaiting us.

Friday, May 9

What we were afraid of then becomes reality. In the next few pitches each of us struggles with our own weapons against the breach. Robert with his technical climbing, I with my freeclimbing. None of us are having fun, but we’re getting higher, and at the end of the day, that’s all that counts. Not quite. The higher we get, the more amazing the view. Icebergs way out on the ocean look like the tiny villages in the Bavarian foothills. Not a sound can be heard – only the cries of the innumerous seagulls and ravens on the nearby ‘bird rock’ disturb the silence in the late evening.

Thursday, May 8

Today the weather is perfect again. Robert, Holger and I head to the wall at 8 a.m. Two more days, and then we’ll stay on the wall in porterledges. We’re able to negotiate the ‘swords’, over which our path leads, with a bolt. An extremely heavy ledge is standing out from a tiny support surface with another huge block on top of it. I actually wanted to chimney up the breach, but just the thought of something happening to me should the ledge suddenly slide off in that moment quashes this heroic thought from my mind. With great care I try to finagle my way past it.

After that, Robert uses the most technical of climbing for possibly the most beautiful pitch of the route. A very fine fissure, about 40 meters long in the best granite. If it’s possible we want to try this length in free climb. Following this, we get a little taste of what’s awaiting us in the next few days: our quartz crevice turns out to be a nail-biting, nerve-wracking and extremely brittle enormous breach.

Wednesday, May 7

Day off. The wind is blowing inland from the sea. The snow flakes are whipping along the ‘bastion’ horizontally. Although we’re only observing the ‘Nanuks’, as the polar bears are reverently and respectfully referred to by the Inuits, from afar, our camp seems like a maximum-security unit. Some distance from the tents lurks Robert’s polar bear fence. Up to now, though, only sleepy climbers have been entangled in them in the early hours of the morning to fire off the flairs. A risk not to be underestimated; not only for the polar bears, but mainly for us. Because when this is taking place, the rest of the team lie hyper-nervously in their sleeping bags, two laden pump guns between them, ready to fight and prepared for anything. Except for Mariusz, who actually wanted to protect us, and is the only one who has experience with the weapon. Till now, he’s slept through every alarm.

Tuesday, May 6

Nothing much happens on this day. We only mount the portaledges into the wall. The next decisive meters of the route have to be conquered with free climbing. Technical climbing isn’t possible using the sword route. We have to cover ten meters to find a reliable anchor. Due to the biting cold and the storm, however, free climbing is unthinkable for the time being. We have time to wait. Up to now we’re still on schedule.

Monday, May 5

When Robert, Holger and Mariusz begin this morning it snows. The snow is so dry that it’s blown up the wall perpendicularly. Robert works his way up technically centimeter after centimeter over extremely heavy, concave shingle. It takes him eight hours to climb 60 meters. With this rock texture and the adverse weather conditions it’s a good, very good result.

On the right of the last belay station the slabs hang over us in three layers like Damocles’ huge swords. In all likelihood our path will continue over them. I’d forgotten the coordinates of our wall and our base camp. I include them here: 71 degrees north, 48 minutes, 40.1 seconds, 74 degrees west, 20 minutes, 12.9 seconds.

Sunday, May 4

Third day at the wall. Holger, Klaus and I are hanging on a small harness. A smooth, slightly enclosed dihedral runs up from the belay station. It’s not until five, six meters that the fissure gets broader at the dihedral base – wide enough to get a hold on with the finger tips. Amazingly all the gaps in the bottom of the wall are frozen over with earth and sand, as if covered with concrete. Laboriously we clean the pinch holds for our fingertips with a hammer and thin hooks. In this region it’s actually getting ahead quickly that counts. But even here I can’t deny my free climbing soul and simply hook myself up to a perfect free climbing pitch.

The sky is continually obscured with a low-hanging blanket of clouds. In the morning the air pressure dropped slowly but continually, a conclusive sign of a decisively bad weather front. Each hour it gets colder. We get to a 60 and a 30 meter pitch until over the pronounced ferrule; we’re getting close to the center of the wall. For some of the pitches our fixed rope will still be enough. After that we’ll all climb the wall with portaledges and will stay until we reach the peak.