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Sample Passage from
South Pole: 900 Miles on Foot
Pages 177 to 180
... Returning to the New Zealand scientific hut, we prepared to depart for Cape Evans by burning our paper rubbish and packing empty cans for disposal later at base. It was April 17 and our prewinter diversion was over, but I was happy to return to the routine of base life and our preparations for my second winter on the continent. My mind was thus occupied as we shrugged on our packs and began to pick our way across the barren rock outcropping of the Cape to Backdoor Bay.
"Why don't we cross the bay rather than take the shore route," I suggested. "The ice is old, it's got to be at least seven or eight feet thick. It'll be faster."
"Do you think we'll be able to cross that crack over there?" Tim asked, pointing across the bay.
"I don't think it'll be a problem but if it is, we'll just follow it back to shore," I replied.
"Yes, I guess so," Tim agreed.
Pancake ice was already beginning to form in the outer bay due to the cold, calm weather we had been having and a slight south wind wafted over us beneath an almost summer-blue sky. The air, around -30°C, was not warmed by the fading sunlight weakly illuminating Cape Royds behind us. All things considered, it was a perfect travel day.
Being familiar with the area from the trip we had made just before leaving for the Pole, I took a different approach to the sea-ice than either Steve or Tim. Once on the ice I crossed the bay toward the black volcanic monolith of Cape Barrie. Ahead, the low sun catching the seaward edge of the Barrie Glacier gilded its 200-foot emerald face. Beyond, the black back of Inaccessible Island was just visible in the distance. Looking around I realized that I was ahead and slowed my pace accordingly to let the others catch up. The going was easy and as I moved over the ice I had no idea that I was being stalked from beneath its surface.
Ahead was a working crack which was slightly more than one stride in width - too far to comfortably cross without jumping. It was covered with a very thin layer of unblemished ice. Innocently, I stepped closer. Would it hold my weight, I wondered, or would I have to jump. Stretching one foot down, I probed it with the tip of my crampon, much as I'd done with dozens of other working cracks in similar circumstances. Suddenly, the surface erupted as the massive head and shoulders of a mature leopard seal, mouth gaping in expectation, crashed through the eggshell covering. It closed its powerful jaws about my right leg, and I fell backward, shocked and helpless in its vise-like grip. Feeling myself being dragged toward a watery grave, I locked my left crampon onto the opposing edge. I knew that once I was in the water, it would be all over.
"Help, help, Steve, Tim, help," I screamed repeatedly. It seemed an age before I finally caught sight of their running figures.
"Kick it, kick it, kick it, get the bloody thing off me, hurry, hurry for Christ's sake, you bastard, you bastard," I yelled hysterically, my gloved hands scrabbling fruitlessly for purchase on the smooth ice behind me as I strained against the seal's prodigious weight.
For one tiny fraction of a second our eyes met. These were not the pleading eyes of a Weddell seal nor the shy glance of a crabeater seal - they were cold and evil with intent. What fear the seal must have recognized in my own during this brief moment of communication, I can only imagine.
"Bloody hell, it's a leopard seal," Steve shouted breathlessly as he leapt across the crack to attack the brute from the opposite side.
"Get the bloody thing off me, kick it, for Christ's sake," I screamed again.
"Aim for its eye, its eye," Tim shouted, his voice verging on panic. "Bastard! Bastard! Bastard!" Steve chanted in rhythm to his swinging boot.
"Get its eye, blind it," Tim shouted again.
I watched, dazed, as the front tines of Steve's cramponed boot made small, fleshy wounds in the side of the beast's head near its eye. Fifteen or 20 times his foot swung with crushing impact. Blood streamed from the wounds and spattered to the ice with each sickening smack of the boot. The impact of the violent attack vibrated through my body. Stubbornly, the beast continued to grip my leg which appeared tiny in its jaw. I felt as powerless as a mouse caught by a cat.
"It's backing off," Tim shouted triumphantly as the seal suddenly released its hold and slipped slowly back beneath the surface.
Numbed, confused and mesmerized by the concentric ripples slapping the edge of the bloodstained hole, I stared entranced at the spot where the frightening beast had disappeared.
"Quick, get him back from the edge," Tim gasped.
Arms had just grabbed me when the seal's monstrous form leapt once more from its watery lair. Lunging at me, it crossed the ice with an awkward gait, streams of bloody water cascading to the ice around it. Its large, interlocking teeth crushed down on my plastic boot.
"My god, we've blown it," I gasped. "Kick it, kick it, for Christ's sake, kick it," I shouted, the fear in my throat threatening to choke me.
"Its eye, get its eye," Steve shouted as he and Tim again booted its head with the lance-like front tines of their crampons.
Irrational thoughts careered madly about my brain. What would the ice look like from beneath the surface? What would death be like? As if divorced from life already, I pictured the seal swimming down with my limp, red-coated body in its jaws. I could see pale green sunlight filtering down through the ice as I descended into the gloom of certain oblivion. It all seemed so real, so peaceful - a silent movie with myself as the reluctant hero.
Tim's tugging at my shoulders pulled me swiftly back to reality finally vanquished, the animal had retreated to its nether world. They skidded me quickly over the ice a safe distance from the crack. I stood up shakily.
"Lie down, let's have a look," Steve implored, motioning me down.
"No, I'm all right. Thank god it's not broken," I gasped, as I tested my wounded leg by stumbling backward, away from the terror I had just experienced. Glancing down at my torn clothing I saw blood on my leg - whether it was mine or the seal's I was not sure. I unzipped my outer Gore-Tex and fibre-pile pant.
"Oh my god," I trembled, horrified at the blood and puncture wounds on the front and back of my leg just below my knee...
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· The Beardmore
· Leopard Seal Attack
· Hut Point
· Epilogue
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Sample Passages:
· The Beardmore
· Leopard Seal Attack
· Hut Point
· Epilogue
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