Slog

For the sixth day running I found myself up and having breakfast at 0600 with an equally bleary eyed Paula. However, today was going to be the day, we told ourselves. Today had to be the day we fixed Prion and got her back in the water, there was no option, our tide would run out by Saturday (Saturday would only be possible if the pressure remained low enough to lift the water above our needed 0.8m) and the Pharos was coming alongside that afternoon to overnight so we wouldn’t be able to launch on Friday morning. If we couldn’t fix her and couldn’t relaunch her she would be stuck in the boatshed for a month and we would have no jetboat back up which is far far less than ideal! By 0730 we were already flagging. We had been in the boatshed for 6 days now and the engine bay was beginning to feel rather too much like home, with the lettering on the engine block I had been kneeling on everyday already moulded into the pre-shaped creases in my knees, God knows how Paula felt after the 6^th day folded up inside the engine bay itself, losing feeling in her feet after an hour or so. We were beginning to drop tools more and more into the bilge and wiping oily green slime off them had stopped being funny on Monday. We needed a lift, a boost, a moment of inspiration, we needed... QUEEN.  And that’s what we got. The greatest hits of Queen blaring out to shatter the pre work calm of King Edward Cove with rather out of tune belting out of classics such as Bohemian Rhapsody keeping us going.

Since last Saturday we had taken her out of the water (not the easiest of jobs), serviced the jet unit, returned her to the water for testing, taken her out again because the hydraulics weren’t right, tested her again, discovered we needed to replace a thrust bearing, replaced it (well actually Erny did the replacing) and now we were putting the finishing touches to replacing the reverse cylinder so that the port bucket would work properly and we would be able to have full use of her again. All of this while continuing to do the other boating operations that were necessary.

Valentine’s day was very nearly the day we cracked. We had planned on Wednesday to have an easyish Thursday, start work at the normal time (which would have been a lie in for us), launch her, test her and then use Friday morning to get her back in again if we needed to. [At this point I should probably explain that we need at least 0.8m of tide to get the jet boats out of the water (and 0.8m is really pushing it). To get the jet boat out we need to attach the 3 tonne trailer to the JCB and an electronic winch and lower it down the slipway till the jet boat can come into it. One person then drives onto the trailer while the other stands at the trailer and when the jet boat is fully on shackles it to the trailer. The whole thing (by then weighing about 8 tonnes) then has to be pulled very slowly (the speed is dictated by the extremely slow electric winch) out of the water until, with a lot of manoeuvring and switching around, we can then pull and push it (with the JCB) into the boatshed. The whole thing takes about an hour.]

Anyway, that Wednesday night we were informed that the Pharos would be coming alongside for the night which scuppered our ability to take her out and test her again if we had to on Friday morning. That meant we had to get everything done on Thursday which is why we were to be found singing like lunatics at 0730 to Queen. Of course at 1000, the hour of our launch, the wind, which we had been watching anxiously all morning, got up to an unsafe level. We seriously had been getting no breaks in our bad luck this week! After an anxious hour we decided to put her stern in the water and see if she let in water (a real issue since we had effectively made and filled a hole by replacing the reverse cylinder (if you don’t know what a reverse cylinder is don’t worry, I didn’t either till last Monday) and we were worried we hadn’t done it right. We nervously put her in and I got into my drysuit to release her. I was in that drysuit for the next four hours getting in and out of Prion fetching tools for Paula as she valiantly changed a hydraulic pump battling against the tide. It was a nail-biting race I can tell you. To end the day we suddenly discovered at 1100 that we had to take passengers and a Government Officer out to a fishing vessel to release her so she could go home. Thank God for Hazel who provided me with lunch or else I would have perished. To make things even better I managed to do exactly the same thing as I did the day Paula arrived, I sucked most of the kelp from the bay up into my jets and was blown helplessly into the wharf behind us. At that point I came very near to canning the whole thing and going home.

Anyway, this is becoming long and boring. To cut a long story short: at 1600 on Friday, 6 days 12 hours after the whole thing started and with everybody’s help (for which we are eternally grateful) we managed to fix her!!!! We would never have done it without Erny, Joe, Kelvin and Hazel and we have promised to try and make the next service easier and quicker for everybody.

One of the good things about getting up in the early hours of the morning, as I have said before, is the often beautiful weather. Even when it wasn’t beautiful it was incredibly atmospheric with the mountains rising out of the mist and looking so like how I imagine Avalon to look that I kept expecting King Arthur to ride out demanding Excalibur.

Mists of Avalon

While we were struggling with the damned boat we had a rather exciting encounter. In the middle of all that I was standing outside the boatshed grabbing a lungful of fresh air and a break when a yacht came sailing in towing the smallest boat you have ever seen behind her. We realised that this was the 'Shackleton Epic' expedition and the dinghy they were towing behind them was in fact the 'Alexandra Shackleton', the James Caird replica they had sailed from Elephant Island. She will wait here until a cruise ship can collect her and take her back to the UK.

James Caird replica against a whaler

She is absolutely tiny, about the same size as our RIBs I think. I had a quick chat with some of the guys who did it (one of whom interviewed me for an expedition last year) and they all seemed very happy. Rather shellshocked but very happy. I think the shock of having actually done it was still very much in place and they all looked a little dazed. They all also still had their 'explorers beards' and looked rather scraggy. The chap that I had met before also looked incredibly thin. They have donated all their replica clothing, boots, stove, compass etc to the museum here and the curatorial intern was very happy but a little distressed at the artefacts still being damp from the crossing. In the end only two of them actually managed to cross South Georgia itself I think. Several of the others had succumbed to trench foot and they were hobbling rather badly. I can imagine that they would have been incredibly pleased to get aboard their support yacht and I should think they are eager to get to Stanley and a bath (showering on a yacht is DEFINITELY not the same). It was very good to see them get here  and to chat to them a little. I really take my hat off to them, they performed an incredible feat in copying Shackleton’s epic trip and were lucky to have succeeded when others didn’t. It was a coincidence also that they arrived in the week of Shackleton’s birthday, which was on the 15^th. We all celebrated by having a dram for him (and for us in celebration of course).

James Caird replica

 Saturday was luckily the most beautiful day we have had for a while so 8 of us decided to climb Narval. It was a glorious day, a slow climb but that didn’t matter. The views from the top (once I had got over the height) were spectacular, you could see right down both East and West Cumberland Bays and you could see all the ice that was being blown from the glaciers. It really felt like the top of the world.



East Cumberland Bay from Narval



West Cumberland Bay from Narval

Once we had clambered down the razor sharp scree (I mean razor sharp, I sliced my finger without even realising it) we came across a couple of big snow patches that were exactly the right length and firmness to either glissade (skiing on just your boots) or bumslide down. I tried a bit of both; OK, I tried to glissade but often found myself going rather faster on my bum. It was brilliant fun and we got down far quicker than we gained it.

Peak of Narval

This weekend has been a marvellous one with both Paula and I revelling in our freedom. Next week will be calmer and we will start to catch up on everything that we neglected while working on Prion but as ever I am looking forward to it and to seeing what it will bring.

Chinstrap Penguin