CLIMB

CLIMBING AGAINST
THE CLOCK

7 MIN READ

CLIMB

CLIMBING AGAINST
THE CLOCK

7 MIN READ

Story By:Caro North

Photos By:Ramona Walder

Location:Scoresby Sound, Greenland

We set out to open a wall in Greenland and opted for a sailing expedition to travel there from France. We could have flown there in a matter of hours, but we wanted a sustainable approach. For this we had to take time and accept a big adventure. We packed planning for a range of climbing scenarios, but the climbing scenario we did not anticipate was perhaps not getting to climb at all.

Adventure is the essence of the trip. We need to find people who share that mindset. Because if not, it doesn’t work. Marta was immediately excited and became my collaborator on this expedition as our captain. We felt the name Via Sedna was perfect for our project because Sedna is the name of the Greenland goddess of the sea in Inuit mythology.

2020 was our first year of planning the trip, but we weren’t able to find enough people — or a boat — to make it happen.

The next year we were able to find a group of people who were motivated and available. Of the eight crew members, I’m the only one who lives and works as an athlete. Everyone else has to take unpaid leave from work. This is a really big commitment from everyone, and I do not take that for granted.

Fall 2021 we got to work on preparations, looking for sponsors, and finding a boat. Most people want to skipper their own boat; they’d never give you their boat to navigate on your own to Greenland, especially since there’s a lot of ice, and you never really know if your boat will make it back. To make a long story short, we were very lucky to get the Northabout.

We know the trip can be done in three to four weeks. Twenty-one days is pretty typical for this time of year. To be generous, we allow four weeks to get there. This way we’ll have another four weeks on land to do lots of climbing before we need to begin our trip back in mid-August — there are big storms in the North Atlantic in September we need to beat. So we have a deadline, but plenty of time before that.

The Via Sedna expedition team aboard the Northabout. The eight-woman team was made up of four sailors, three climbers, and a photographer. Caro North is at the helm.

THE TEAM

Nadia is a close friend of mine, and we’ve climbed the world together. Nadia lives in France but is from Spain. Capucine is a climber friend of Nadia’s; she’s French. So the climbing team is set: Nadia, Capucine, and I will attempt to open the wall.

Marta found a good sailing partner pretty quickly. Sol is a naval architect living in France as well but is from Argentina. The other sailor is also named Caro. She’s a carpenter, a really good cook, and one of Marta’s best friends, so I knew we would get along. Finally, we have Alix, a sailor and sailmaker. We’re happy to have a strong team of four sailors for our journey.

Ramona is our photographer and a good friend of mine. She lives in Austria and speaks German. A few years ago, I mentioned this dream to her, and she said, “If you ever go, tell me. I will come.” Despite the language barriers and being a photographer — not a filmmaker — she was committed and started teaching herself how to fly drones off a moving sailboat and off steep walls.

All-women climbing and sailing expeditions are rare, and we don’t know if an all-women team has ever attempted such an adventure. But we do know the wall is yet to be climbed. So there’s a pressure we’ve put on ourselves to prove it’s possible and bring something back for all the people supporting us. But actually, we’re doing it because it’s a lifetime dream and a big passion. We want to have fun and connect with our environment, not conquer it nor be heroes.

In the weeks leading up to our departure, this group of talented women is starting to become a team. The energy and excitement is high.

THE JOURNEY

The climbers, Capucine, Nadia, and Caro, meticulously comb through and choose their gear as they could only guess at what the wall would be like, what they would need, and had limited storage space onboard.

JUNE 20

DEPART LA ROCHELLE, FRANCE

Looking at the weather, we expect to sail to the north of Scotland in one week. If the weather is still good, we’ll go straight to Iceland.

JUNE 27

DUBLIN, IRELAND

We’ve just crossed the channel over to the UK, and we’re already harboring. It’s only been five days of sailing, and we’re forced to spend seven here waiting out a big storm with strong winds. We explore, do a little climbing, and rest. But after seven days, we’re antsy and ready to get going; we’re feeling the time ticking away. Our energy and momentum are still undeterred.

Between Stornoway, Scotland, and the Faroe Islands, we hit another patch of bad weather. The sea is a big mess, waves going in every direction. Not easy to sail. Not easy to live onboard. Nobody can eat or rest. Fortunately, it’s over after 30 hours.

A three-week expedition would have taken its toll on the climbers’ fitness, but it’s now almost six weeks. They train on the boat as much as possible when seas are calm enough.

“I’VE NEVER EXPERIENCED WEATHER CONDITIONS LIKE THAT AT THE HELM. IT IMPRESSED UPON ME THAT I TRULY HAVE MY TEAMMATES’ LIVES IN MY HANDS.”

CAPUCINE COTTEAUX

CLIMBER

Captain Marta determines how their intended route will line up with the forecast.

JULY 04

FAROE ISLANDS

We’re seeing our chances of success decreasing. After harboring here for 10 days, we’ve now lost nearly three weeks, and it’s eating into the time we expected to have in Greenland. And who knows what other obstacles are ahead.

We still have hope and a chance of making the attempt and decide to give it all to get to Greenland and not to opt for a plan B. Our captain, Marta, is diligent about sharing the information she’s receiving on the status of the ice around Greenland and the weather forecast.

“We can’t wait more here [in the Faroe Islands]. If we do, there’s no chance to go anywhere. If we don’t take the window we have, we can say goodbye to Greenland,” Marta explains. In the same breath, she goes on to say, “but in difficulties we show how strong we are.” Feeling emboldened, we prepare to leave.

The entire team works in shifts during long stretches of inclement weather to avoid exhaustion and share the work. Caro North takes her shift at the helm.

JULY 13

ICELAND

We encounter a drain of low-pressure systems, one after another after another, forcing us to wait in harbors where there’s no town, nothing to do, and it’s raining the whole time. This is so frustrating I could cry. In fact, I already did in the shower.

Nadia, Capucine, and I find a wall and try to get a little climbing in. I climbed to the first bolt of one route before it started raining and we had to quit.

Sitting down with Ramona for a camera interview, I say, “We’re working on patience.”

Nadia corrects me, saying, “frustration management.”

After nearly two weeks in Iceland, we are finally leaving at midnight for Scoresby Sound, a large fjord system on the east coast of Greenland that will allow us access to the mountain.

Thirty miles from Greenland, there’s heavy fog and icebergs all around. The icebergs are absolutely incredible to see but keep the sailors highly vigilant. We get a report that Scoresby Sound is blocked with pack ice, so we’re headed to anchor south of it. On the boat, time feels endless. As we travel farther north in the high summer, the sun never really sets. And with the gray skies, I don’t know if two hours pass, or four hours, or a day — because it’s always the same gray light.

Caro does resistance training to keep her strength so she’s ready to climb as soon as, and if, they get there.

“WE ARE CLIMBERS. WE DON’T DREAM OF A THREE-MONTH SAILING-ONLY TRIP.”

CARO NORTH

VIA SEDNA EXPEDITION LEADER | CLIMBER

While navigating icebergs, a climber serves as lookout on the mast, communicating back down to the sailing team what can only be seen from above — the true size of the ice below the surface.

JULY 27

ARRIVAL IN GREENLAND

Scoresby Sound opens up! After days and days of gray, we are entering Scoresby Sound with beautiful light. We have never seen light so pure or nature so grand. We’re finally feeling real, true excitement. We haven’t slept in the last 24 hours because we’re too excited and there’s too much to see. Once again, we have rain and snow in the forecast, so we plan to rest when that hits. But for now, we open champagne to celebrate that, after six long weeks, we finally made it to Greenland!

JULY 31

SCORESBY SOUND

After two more days of waiting in the rain, the sailors drop us off on the beach. Now that we’re on land, time is passing so fast — it’s running. Just running. Our deadline is bearing down on us; we’re just arriving and only have 10 days before we must leave again.

We know getting all our gear from the beach to the base of the wall will be a journey in itself and require a few days, so we waste no time and begin the trek.

First we cross unstable gravel, then the glacier, then a labyrinth of big crevasses that require some short sections of ice climbing. From our camp on the beach, it takes us six hours to get to the bottom of the wall with our heavy — 26 kilo (or nearly 60 lb.) — packs.

After dropping our gear, the trek back is lighter and quicker (four hours). Back on the beach, Nadia, Capu, and Ramona talk only of the possibilities. We discuss the specific climbing gear we’ll lug on the next trek to the wall, and we keep one another from veering off the edge mentally and emotionally as we see more rain in the forecast.

With every drop of rain, our time to climb is disintegrating. We’re so close yet condemned to wait. Our biggest obstacle now is our ability to endure.

After three full days of shuttling our gear, we’re left with four days to open the route. There’s absolutely no room for error. No room to choose the wrong line or pack the wrong equipment. There would be no time to start over. Our only chance at completing this mission is to get it right the first time.

Spirits are high as the crew finally makes it to Scoresby Sound and can start shuttling their climbing gear to shore.

OUR ROUTE

Because they don’t know exactly what they’ll face on the wall, Capu and the rest of the crew are climbing heavy. Photo by Caro North.

The women study and plan their route up as they only have one shot to get it right before more storms are expected.

Finally, finally, we find ourselves on the wall, climbing good rock and doing what we love. We’re immersed in this sea of granite — the thing we came here for — and we’re just super happy. This energy carries us. As the sun is setting and the temperature is dropping, we rappel back down to our camp to discuss how we’ll handle the next two days as, yet again, the weather window is short before a snowstorm rolls in.

We have two strategies: go light and just do a 24-hour push, or go with bivy gear and climb for one and a half days. We decide to do a little of both — go with bivy gear but only two portaledges and two sleeping bags for three people, less water and food. Nadia and Capu share a sleeping bag on the portaledges, so they’re comfortable but cold. I’m sleeping on the rocks, but I have my own sleeping bag, so I’m warm but uncomfortable.

The day before, it took us all day to do just four pitches. Some parts were soaking wet, and sometimes the leader had to do aid climbing. Very difficult. And we were only halfway up the wall. We’re coming to a juncture where we accept that, with the weather coming in, the summit may be out of reach.

After the emotional roller coaster of the past seven weeks, we’ve gotten very good at focusing on appreciating where we are and how far we’ve come, being grateful for the opportunity and the camaraderie of this team. But it’s not over yet.

“Today is the day — we can do this!” I say, trying to motivate us, myself included. This close to our goal, it’s hard to feel optimistic because we expect another dip on this roller coaster of an expedition. The cold and wet air makes it difficult to leave our sleeping bags, and we need much more rest than we’re getting to recover from each day.

“The last bit looks easier, girls. After the next two pitches, I think you can make it to the top,” Ramona reports via radio with her assessment of the wall from her drone and binoculars. It’s the encouragement we need to hear.

And then the unbelievable happens: After five more pitches and some scrambling, we reach the top of our wall! For the first time on the whole trip, it feels like maybe Sedna is with us because the difficulties finally seem to ease off.

Topping out of that route, our route, is one of the most incredible feelings I’ve ever experienced. It’s hard to describe our elation at this moment! Nadia, Capucine, and I share an emotional celebration at the top but can barely soak it in before we know we must start rappelling down — the clouds are already coming in.

We truly barely made it. In our three-month expedition, we only spent four days on the Greenland walls.

The Via Sedna climbing team at the top of their route. The climb was steep and challenging on beautiful orange granite. A climber’s dream. Photo by Caro North.

THIS EXPERIENCE CHANGED OUR PERCEPTION OF TIME AND SPACE AS WELL AS WHAT WE CONSIDERED SUCCESS. BUT IT’S ALSO SHOWN US THAT EVERYTHING IS POSSIBLE.

Before us, a team of all women on a sailing and climbing expedition — and opening a wall — didn’t exist, so we feel proud of that. And I’ll admit, it felt unfair that we had such hard conditions. But being a group of women, we worked well as a team, motivating each other, not taking things too seriously, and talking openly if one of us was feeling down. In the face of every obstacle on this journey, I believe our greatest advantage was having one another.

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