Jiekkevarri ’71

by Stephen V. Bugg

The object of the Jiekkevarri 71 Expedition was threefold. Primarily we were to climb Jiekkevarri, the highest mountain in arctic Norway, and if possible also to traverse the entire ice-cap. Secondly we hoped to explore the Sydbreen and Steindal glaciers, climbing as many virgin peaks as possible. Thirdly, and less tangibly, the expedition leader hoped to determine how people of different social backgrounds reacted together under severe conditions. As far as this went we were well equipped having in our ranks an Etonian, an apprentice engineer, a research graduate and a salesman, to mention but a few.

Apart from one brief meeting in the Lakes, we did not meet each other until we congregated at Victoria Station, late one evening in July. From this station the ten of us travelled by rail and air to Tromso, Amundsen’s birthplace, where we met the two-man advance party.

Having sorted out a minor transport problem, (the ‘bus driver refused to load his precious ‘bus with our ton or so of food and equipment!), we left for base camp.

Base camp was situated 2#half# miles up in Goverdalen, or Andersdalen, depending on which map one is using, a valley covered with dense birch scrub at its outlet into the fiord, and boulder scree and moraine higher up. The first load carry took 2#half# hours, and at least one memeber of the expedition now knows that 60 lbs. is not the same as 60 kgs., having misinterpreted the figures on the boxes.

From base camp one could look up the valley to the overhanging peak of Sphinxen; to our left, out of sight lay Jiekkevarri. The whole camp was overshadowed by the huge vertical face of Titind which lay immediately to the right of the camp. Looking down the valley one could see the fiord and numerous snow capped peaks.

The expedition was to last three weeks, and the plan was to spend six days climbing, and then return to base for Sundays. The first week the expedition divided into two, each party with certain objectives. The party of six which Duncan and I were with hoped to find a new route on to Jiekkevarri.

The remaining six people went to’ investigate the Sydbreen Glacier and possible routes to Jiekkevarri from this glacier.

When we departed on Monday it was raining. The river rose dramatically and we needed ropes to safeguard the crossing. The route lay up a steep boulder field, and then wound through morainic deposits. On reaching the top of one of these mounds the glacier was suddenly revealed. It looked really ugly, not at all as I had imagined a glacier. We made our way on to the glacier by a snow slope to one side of its snout. Every now and then we could hear avalanches, but could not see them since we were almost in the clouds. We chose a camp site just below a rocky buttress, hoping it would keep any avalanches away from the tents. A snow platform was soon created and we retired for the night.

The following day the cloud had lifted slightly and we saw the source of the avalanches. The ice-cap of Jiekkevarri was oozing over a thousand foot cliff on the other side of the glacier. A short sortie through some ice-falls on the glacier was thwarted by inclement weather. The attemped route was temporarily abandoned. We returned to base camp that day and prepared to leave for Fugledal, the valley on the other side of Jiekkevarri.

We walked to Fugledal via the road which runs beside the fiord. The object of our visit to this valley was to determine if there existed a suitable escape route from the ice-cap should an ice-cap traverse party need one. Our first view of Fugledal suggested that there was no such route. The entire valley was hemmed in by sheer cliffs.

However, the following day (Thursday) with a cloudless sky, we started up a snow gulley. It looked short and easy, but six hours later we were still climbing and the gradient was steadily increasing. We had slightly under-estimated the country! We left the gully by a very loose rock wall and finished with a scramble to the summit of Hundtind, so named because the summit overhangs and looks like a dog’s ear from the valley. At this point Duncan and I decided to assist Nature in her process of erosion. Several large boulders were dropped from the dog’s ear and the mountain named Trundle Tind. (At that time we were unaware that the mountain had a name).
 
A short recce along the ridge towards Skavenhausen suggested that it might lead straight to the ice-cap, without any trouble. (We later learned that there was a nasty gap in the ridge with fairly vertical sides).

The descent from Hundtind was eventful. We descended on the opposite side from the ascent. Slushy snow, loose rocks, weighing anything up to several cwt, and a very steep gradient made life interesting. There were several minor casualties, all of whom attributed their injuries to Duncan, who seemed to have the misfortune to knock every loose rock on the hillside. Indeed at one point he gave a very impressive acrobatic display, doing two or three complete somersaults before crashing down on his rucksack. It is probable that his rucksack saved him from serious injury.

Eventually we regained the road and meandered back to our tents in Fugledal. The climb had taken no less than seventeen hours and left everyone just a little shattered.

Friday, strangely enough saw little activity. A cloudless sky meant sunbathing, etc. There were various suggestions to the effect that I should be floated down the rapids on my lilo. (It was assumed, wrongly, that I was asleep). Commonsense prevailed however. After all it would be a pity to waste a good lilo.

By six o’clock Duncan and I had decided to return to base camp. The walk back down Fugledal, and along the edge of the fiord was well worth the effort. It was a calm evening with the reddening midnight sun reflected by the fiord, and giving the snow capped mountains a beautiful golden glow. Undoubtedly the most breathtaking scenery I have seen.

We rolled into base camp expecting to be the only people in residence. However, Mike Nosworthy and Brian Sylvester were already there constructing a rock and mud oven. They had opted out of an attempt at the summit of Jiekkevarri in order to climb Balgesvarre, a mountain that had caught their imagination. It proved a very easy climb and so they kept going until they reached base camp, and not feeling tired they set about making the oven.

During that day (Saturday) the rest of the expedition drifted into camp. The other party had put four people on to the summit of Jiekkevarri. Having tired of paddling about on a very slushy Sydbreen Glacier they achieved the summit by means of a ridge, described as the normal route.

Saturday and Sunday we baked bread and lazed in the sun. Plans were re-vamped and parties re-organised. Four people went to have a second attempt at the glacier route. John Burrows, Mike Nosworthy, John Hansford and myself headed up the valley towards Sphinxen and the Steindal Glacier where, we were told, there were numerous virgin peaks. During this trek we encountered the only mosquitoes seen during the expedition, despite warnings that this part of the country was plagued with them. The few we did find were tough. One or two kept after us until we reached the Steindal Glacier.

Monday morning dawned (if dawn comes in a land of twenty-four hours of sunlight) and the four of us left for our mountain, Nallancakka. Someone casually mentioned that the holes in the glacier were probably caused by rocks falling from the cliff on our left. We moved away from the cliff!

The route, after we left the glacier, was straight up a rock pinnacle. Two-thirds of the way up this pinnacle we admitted to defeat. We did not have enough hardware to protect ourselves on an increasingly steep climb which was, as always, desperately loose.

That evening it rained. We had just finished eating a magnificent “pog” (a sort of stew and anything handy) when the expedition leader and three others arrived. Due to some highbrow reorganisation it was arranged that I should move out of my nice, warm, dry mountain tent into a small bivouac tent made from single skin light-weight nylon. It was a prototype of the tents Dave now makes commercially and it leaked along the seams! Dave was occupied in determining how and why it was leaking and countered all my criticisms with “it’s only a prototype”. This didn’t stop the rain coming in! (Incidentally, the production model does not leak).

Tuesday was a little better and we did do a short recce of the glacier and climbed a peak presumed unclimbed (Point 1352 m.) Meanwhile Dave and John Burrows climbed Sphynxen.

We were tent-bound on Wednesday until after lunch when four of us decided to return to base camp with the object of climbing something—possibly Jiekkevarri—and maybe even traverse the ice-cap. However, when we reached base Allan, Mike Patten, Duncan and Brian were all in camp. Allan and Mike had again been thwarted in their attempt to force the new route via the glacier, having been stopped by a waterfall. Duncan and Brian had started to follow them but were put off by the crevasses (unlike Allan neither had any experience of glaciers) which had opened up since our first recce.They then decided to go for Jiekkevarri by the normal route. They in fact reached the south summit but in white-out conditions decided not to trek across the ice-cap to the main summit.

. Plans were again reorganised. Dave Challis and Brian went off to climb Titind, the mountain which overshadowed base camp. The face we could see was nearly vertical, and several hundred metres high. During Duncan and Brian’s return from Jiekkevarri they had walked beneath this face just as a thunderstorm broke. The mountain was transformed into a torrent of running water, forcing huge rocks off the face. Duncan and Brian literally ran for their lives as rocks crashed down.

The remaining six, incidentally the same six who were originally grouped together, decided to attempt Jiekkevarri.

The first stage was a walk up to a col in a hanging valley off our main valley. On the way up we passed some magnificent lakes with tumbled blocks of ice and snow floating in the green water.

The col was very rocky, and it was difficult to pitch the three “bivi” tents. We found the “food dump” left by Duncan and Brian—one gas cartridge, a chunk of nibbled cheese and a packet of salt!

The following day was cloudy, but we decided it might clear and so off we went. The ridge was fairly steep, almost a buttress. We used ropes, although the actual climbing was not difficult or even badly exposed.

As we climbed upwards the clouds rose with us, remaining just a few feet above our heads. We soon gained the south summit. The cloud descended and so we walked on a compass bearing towards the true summit.

Every now and then there would be a dramatic break in the clouds and we could take stock of our position. We could see the giant east face of the mountain, where, it was rumoured an Austrian party were climbing, although we saw no sign of them. A little further on and we could look down into Fugledal. Finally we came across a boulder field, with a cairn in it. We all signed our names, addresses and the date. (I also added a note claiming to be the youngest person to have climbed Jiekkevarri). A stroll through the mist brought us to the summit. The highest point of the dome took some time to determine, but having found it the clouds cleared and we could see hundreds of snow-capped peaks stretching as far as the eye could see. Photography time! I took as many shots while on the ice cap as I had taken in the previous one and a half weeks!

From the summit we walked back the way we had come and then left our tracks and ascended Cvieta—another bump on the ice cap. Finally we descended to the point where our original attempt at a route should have come out. Allan soloed down and came back a few minutes later. He had seen a way round the waterfall, so the route was possible.

By the time our meanderings about the summit were concluded it was again very late. The sun had a decidedly red tint and produced some magnificent effects in the clouds, some of which were recorded by the camera.

Eventually we returned to the col and concocted another meal. Not wishing to spend another night on the rocky col, Duncan and I left for base camp. On the way down I heard how Duncan and Brian had stopped on their way down from South Jiekkevarri to put on cagoules, and had promptly fallen asleep! A few hundred feet above base camp we stopped to watch a great finger of mist spread up the valley from the fiord and engulf base camp. It was tremendously eerie.

We had to cross the river to get to base camp so we headed for a shallow section and donned plimsols. On the other side of the river I unexpectedly found myself upside down with my head amongst the boulder scree!

A race developed to see who could get the mug of tea proffered by those in base camp. I ran round the moraine and Duncan waded the lagoon.

We finally reached base camp by 4 a.m., where we learned that Titind had been climbed but that Brian had fallen on the way down. He was badly shaken but had no broken bones.

Saturday and Sunday we again made bread and did little else. It rained heavily most of the time.

The expedition now entered its final week. Duncan, Alan, Mike and Brian planned a girdle traverse of Titind. David Challis and Dave Berry intended to try the ice-cap traverse. John Burrows, John Hansford and Pete wanted to try a peninsular traverse.

Since there was nothing left to traverse, Mike Nosworthy, Bruce and myself, (the three youngest of the expedition), went round to Ellendalen to have a go at climbing Ellendalen Tind!

Our route took us up on to the side of Titind, to a small lake where we camped. This camp afforded superb views of Jiekkevarri. The following day we climbed point 940 m. and then descended to the road. The descent was as usual—loose and steep. By this time the rough Gabbro rock had worn Brace’s and my boots totally smooth and on one stretch of grass I slipped and a pointed rock pierced my sack and burst a gaz cylinder.

Ellendalen was similar to Andersdalen—covered in boulders and birch scrub. Ellendalan Tind looked impressive and difficult. We elected not to climb it but to go and investigate life in the fiord area.

On Thursday we returned to the foot of Andersdalen. We met Brian, Duncan, Mike and Allan, who had failed to traverse Titind and had in fact also been investigating the life in the fjord area.

On Friday we woke late and spent the morning climbing boulder problems. We then walked up our valley to base camp.

In base camp we heard that the peninsular crossing party had in fact crossed the peninsular, walking forty miles on boulder scree—no mean achievement.

The ice-cap had also been traversed but the party had run into a slight problem along the route we had declared feasible.

An so to the final meal. We started eating at 6 p.m. and didn’t finish until 3 a.m. The evening’s entertainment included a Viking funeral, when old lilos were set adrift on the river with heaps of burning rubbish aboard.

By 4 a.m. all the tents were down, and we departed the camp site. The expedition was over.