Year of the Cock Expedition - Queen Maud Land, Antarctica

After a two-hour flight from the Russian base I was dropped off amongst the virgin islands of granite towers. Our small bi-wing airplane landed on the glassy ice and slid back and forth like a fishtail fluttering out of control. The Russian pilots laughed at the excitement and gunned the single-propeller engine like kids driving a go-cart. While in the air, I pointed down to the swords and spears of granite and signaled where I wanted to land.

The pilots seemed confused that I would attempt to climb these strange towers of stone alone. In a way, I felt the same. 

When going on a solo expedition to climb first ascents, especially in one of - if not the most - remote big-wall climbing areas on the planet, my mentality can be the biggest mystery and challenge. But there were two things for certain that brought concern about this expedition: the catabatic winds of terror and the hideous, rotten granite, disguised in the fantastic beauty of the golden walls viewed from a distance. 

After a day of kite skiing and scoping routes, I found several aesthetic lines to summits.  Unfortunately, I could tell most of them would involve kitty-litter-like stone that would induce immense fear and certain danger. However, a couple of the routes looked promising.

One of the lines, on a beautiful ship's prow, called to me as my binoculars scanned the cracks. Before long I had three pitches fixed within a crux of high winds and negative temperatures. Unfortunately, the rumors of the rotten, unpredictable quality of rock proved true on the fourth pitch.