Archive for the ‘Antarctica 2011 Legacy Crossing’ Category

December 15, 2011

S80°23.8123 E037°42.613

Elevation 11570 feet

Last night’s positive assessment of my toe condition was somewhat diminished this morning upon inspection. It is hard to tell whether the dead cells are continuing their degenerative cycle from prior damage–even within the contained environment of the tent–or whether yesterday’s travel damaged the toe further setting off more degeneration overnight. It remains that dead cells have extended further over the crown of the toe which has hardened into a shell. As such, ghastly though it looks, the injury is relatively contained. The imperative is to protect the next layer of skin from further cold exposure. The main concern with a frost injury is to prevent it from reaching the bone; consequences then can be dire. Luckily, we are not there. Nonetheless, the situation did require further assessment, and we decided to stay in the tent for the day, especially as winds were light.
I am taking this situation very seriously, and have no desire to lose a toe! I am interfacing with frostbite experts and providing them daily photographs of the condition. At the same time, the time has not come to throw in the towel.
I am somewhat perplexed about the steps that led to this, as my other toes have been exposed to the same conditions without displaying any signs of injury. I have not found my boots systems to be especially cold, but to mitigate the risk Eric and I will switch one boot. He is wearing Millet mountaineering boots, which are not especially great for skiing but are very warm. My foot is bigger than his, so we have reconfigured the inside with felt liners and a different socks system. Tomorrow, we will give that a shot and both wear different boots on each foot; different boots with different bindings, and different skis! Whatever works! We are a stone’s throw away from the POI at this stage and will take it one day at a time. Needless to say these are tense times. This is the time to dig deep: great achievements never come cheap. But if you have a moment, put in a good thought our way. Tomorrow will be critical.

December 14, 2011

S80°23.8123 E037°42.613

Elevation 11570 feet

Today is a big day in the history of polar exploration, of course, as on this day one hundred years ago, Roald Amundsen and his team were the first to reach the South Pole, on December 14, 1911. Amundsen had learned a lot about polar travel from the Inuit in the north. Much of that knowledge was applied to his historical achievement, especially his use of dogs and the clothing he chose. Amundsen, who was not an especially pleasant individual, did boast a very efficient strategy, on and off the ice: he sneaked below the radar in his bid to be the first, ahead of Robert Falcon Scott who had departed from England amidst great media expectations. Amundsen set sails for the Arctic, but once out to sea, to prevent any leaks, changed his bearing and set it to Antarctica and the Ross ice shell, where he wintered over, unbeknownst to Scott who did the same at a nearby location. Scott was younger, and less experienced but a charismatic and eager leader. When he set off on the ice for the Pole, he had no idea that he was engaged in one of the greatest races in history. Instead of planting the British flag upon reaching the South Pole on January 17, 1912, to his great chagrin, Scott found there the Norwegian flag, and a note left for him from Amundsen. Tragically, on his voyage back, Scott and his team perished from cold and starvation, a mere eleven miles from a cache of food they had left on their way in. Scott had made the strategic error of choosing ponies, as well as tractors, in his bid for the Pole. The Scandinavian ponies did not resist the harshness of the Antarctica conditions, and died early. The tractors turned out to be utterly useless in soft snow. The men were therefore forced to haul their food and survival equipment and, faced with vicious storms, did not survive the ordeal. In the expedition world, the rivalry between Norway and England set then, lives even to this day.

For Eric and I, the day was no less significant. The fact that we posted our second best distance today (106 kilometers) was made all the more sweet as a cloud may have lifted from potential aborting of the mission. Of the last two days spent in the tent, the second was a tense contemplation of whether the trip might require medivac on account of my toe: while I finally managed to pull the big toe nail that had been badly bruised from two weeks ago riding the sastrugi, the liquid it had been oozing had set off a cold injury from the cold boots. Cutting the dead skin off the crown of the toe revealed a frost bite significant enough that our prospects looked challenged. Some of the flesh had already turned black, and without a rest day, there was no telling whether and if it might spread. I let the wound air out in the tent all day to assess its condition. After speaking with a frostbite medic, I forwarded photos and got a temporary assessment. Needless to say, I would rather not lose a toe; and yet, with the POI within reach, to abort at this stage was equally unappealing.

I spent some tense hours contemplating options, and their consequences. I was torn. It is hard to explain the mental stakes that reap havoc to the mind: the effort; the planning; years of aspiration; not to mention that the worst of the expedition is behind us. Additionally, one has a different perspective from the ice; the history of polar exploration is riddled with stubby digits…! Luckily, in the morning, the extent of the dead skin cells appeared to be contained. After reconfiguring by boot gaiters, socks combination, and shortening our traveling section duration–from two hours to one, less if my toes felt cold–we decided to go for it. The morning was tense. For one, it is difficult to tell exactly what threshold of cold is or isn’t acceptable. My toes have temporarily lost sensitivity from the long days kiting, and cold feet more or less come with the job. However, after each one hour section, I took the time to walk around and restore circulation to toes and feet. After six and a half hours of kiting, we were both anxious to see whether any change had developed. I am happy to report that the bite is stable, and the actions we have taken seem to be working. We are now 349 kilometers from the POI, a distance that can hopefully be reached in less than a week. For now, the objectives remain the same, even if one at a time: POI, South Pole, and Hercules Inlet. Daily monitoring will diligently be in effect. Don’t worry people, I have no desired to be acquiring the ungainly moniker of Stubby Seb: the toe stays! I obviously have an angel sitting on my shoulder; please don’t fly away!

December 13, 2011

S79°39.887 E034°08.371

Elevation 11466 feet

No luck with the wind again today. A windless day, at 3500 meters on an expedition like this, doesn’t leave many option. The thinner air at this altitude shortens the breath, and hauling the sledges–particularly with this terrain–is simply not an option. Not yet, anyhow. We are slipping on our mileage, each static day tagging a few extra kilometers to our daily requirements, hiking it up to 44.3. But as usual: you can’t get mad at the weather…

The day is spent in the tent fixing, sowing, and refining gear. Luckily, the sun was baking the tent, so we kept toasty. There is always a lot of sowing going on: on mitts, gaiters, clothing. Eric spent some time consolidating the repair job on his binding, hoping that it will hold for the rest of the trip. I added a layer to my over boot gaiters, hoping to gain extra warmth. My toes have been numb from the cold and rough terrain. My big right toe has just lost its nail from being brutalized two weeks ago; it looks a mess. Eric’s cough won’t go away. But on the bright side, my ribs seem to be healing. The downwind tacks we have been kiting go a long way in reducing the squeeze from the harness. They mostly feel like a bad bruise–a sneeze are their worse enemy!–but I am hopeful that they could be healed by the end of the trip. We are almost halfway there. Still a lot of trail to cover. Hopefully some will be tomorrow.

December 12, 2011

S79°39.887 E034°08.371

Elevation 11466 feet

A no wind day is a forced day of rest. When you are constantly making miles versus days calculations in your head, that is mostly a day of frustration. Still, upon stepping out of the tent, it is hard not to be taken by the immense scale of this environment, its untamed and harsh beauty. Deserts are dichotomous by nature. They are sacred places where we go to to find answers about ourselves; and yet their void provides more questions than answers. They are often merciless, but we are drawn to them. We go to them to re-source in spite of their lack of resources. Their silence screams for us to listen, while their stillness subdues us into spiritual contemplation. Jesus sought wisdom in the desert, while men have died in unwise quests to cross them. More than anything, deserts are canvases on which the mind is free to paint over the errors of our past and sketch the map of a hopeful future. In spite of their harshness–and someimes because of it–desert will make us better people.

An ice desert requires the best from you. It demands authenticity, and won’t compromise. It is the ultimate humility enforcer. Antarctica’s very dry climate makes a sunny windless day pleasant for a stroll–given the right clothes and disposition. But wind will instantly change that. Ten knots will turn 35C below into 45C below. In these temperatures, steam from your breath will instantly freeze over hair, fur or fabric. Crystals form on ice itself, creating delicate shapes and fleeting diamonds. All things being relative, ice can have a fragile and feminine quality. But the chill on my nose and ears beckons me back to the warm tent. Thirty below isn’t, after all, someone you want to dance with forever.

December 11, 2011

S79°39.887 E034°08.371

Elevation 11466 feet

The mornings are pretty solemn. Aside from a shared interest in the wind conditions, which can generally be ascertained by the flapping of the tent’s fabric–or lack thereof–we tend to keep to ourselves, and not much is said. We go through the daily ritual of melting snow, filling up the thermos’ with Herbalife protein powder and H3O electrolytes while charging the iPods and other electronics of the solar panels. We stuff the sleeping bags in their respective compression sacks, and little by little pack up the various items that made the tent a makeshift house for the night. We brush our teeth, swallow vitamins and Omega 3’s–again, courtesy of Herbalife–and finally get to breakfast. This consists of homemade granola or oatmeal, depending on the days. Either one become rather insipid after week on ends. The former is like chewing on pebbles soaked in water; the latter like eating cardboard soaked in maple syrup. The eating is also done silently, as is the process of suiting up, which follows. Even while we travel as a team, most of the day is spent alone, almost as a monastic internal journey. And if the morning silence is partly about readying for another day on the ice, like gladiators preparing for the arena, another part is that we simply don’t have much to say! When the tent door is zipped open, the game is on. The chill immediately sets the tone: the sooner we hit the trail, the better–it warms you up. The tent’s contents are tossed out onto the ice, the tent disassembled, and the sledges packed up. Finally we unwind the kites and set them up for take off. We walk the lines back to the skis and step into them. We clip the sledges’ leashes into the harness, puck up the handle and look to each other for readiness. Once acknowledged, we tug on the lines, one at a time–whoever is upwind generally starts to avoid potential tangle–and work the kite up in the air. In moments, the leash tightens behind us and the sledge grinds forward. We plunge the kite into a figure eight to generate power, and just like that, pull away from our former campsite. Not much has been said, nor needed to be. Next stop in two hours.

Today the wind only gave us two sections, and slow though the miles were, we managed–barely–to cover our daily goal with 42 kilometers. Easy math and you got it: an average of ten painful kilometers per hour. In spite of the still nasty terrain, moving got so slow in the end that I almost dozed off kiting!

I have upped our daily average to 43 kilometers as I would like to arrive at the Pole on January 11th, the day Robert Falcon Scott made it there, one hundred years ago (almost a month after Amundsen did). Arriving on the anniversary would have some symbolic significance for this trip. Hopefully, my toe will not get in the way of our plans; I am tending to it but have some concerns. Eric’s altitude cough won’t go away. But on the positive side, my rib seems to be healing, which is great news–feels like a bad bruise, but no more clicking! We have traveled 1235 kilometers so far.

PS. About the update photo: this should answer one of the more common question about this type of trip! Also: plenty of ventilation, terrific air conditioner, and one of the best views money can buy!

December 10, 2011

S79°24.532 E032°37.736

Elevation 11428 feet

Any story about traveling across the Antarctica ice cap will begin and end with the sastrugi. Those ice features sculpted by the wind will break bones, equipment and sometimes your spirit. They cover the surface of the ice as if the later had been shredded by shrapnel. And today, we got another giant serving of it in a way that I was not particularly ready for.

Two weeks ago, I busted my big right toe nail, and since then, it has swollen and filled with liquid. I have been dressing it with antibiotic cream and medical tape morning and night, but the discoloration has me concerned. Additionally, during yesterday’s marathon session, the moisture on my face mask froze on my chin, trapped by facial hair. The comic part of this is I had my face mask hanging from my chin for a good twenty minutes after getting into the tent and ended getting the partial equivalent of an ice waxing when I finally pried the ice off it. The less funny part is that hours of that state on the trail resulted in a cold injury on the chin, and having to devise a different facial system. Those two were on my mind getting out of the tent this morning. When an injury develops out here, all types of concerns start brewing in your mind, factoring the worse case scenario, and its consequences, and you quickly feel vulnerable. Which is why when we got hit by the most vicious sastrugi-ridden terrain, five minutes into our first session, I realized I was going to have a bad day. I did not understand how bad it was going to be until one hour before it ended.

The wind was there, consistent in direction with prior days, and capitalizing–in the first half of the day, anyway–on yesterday’s system. But our theory of good and bad ice alternating every thirty kilometers or so quickly vanished as we bucked and bounced over the nastiest, unrelenting ice conditions over eighty of the 94.34 kilometers we covered in the day. My brain is still rattling as I write this and I may have loosened all my fillings from the shaking that went on all day. It was not fun. Seeing the shredded ice stretch without mercy in all direction actually made me question what I was doing out here. I saw Eric get bounced around as if riding a bull and thought: “Any time now, that binding repair job is going to go, and we’ll be marooned in this hellish ice!” Meanwhile I was thrown around myself like a pantomime, begging for some smooth terrain. For kilometers on end, the ice was so bad that I could not see a spot where we could have set up a tent had we wanted to. It turns out the smoother terrain never came, though the severity mellowed out somewhat in the last hour. Luckily, we were traveling in a straight downwinder for most of the afternoon, which meant moving in the direction–and not across–the sastrugi, and with less pull on the lines. We miraculously managed a good distance nonetheless, which brings us to 497 kilometers from the POI and has dropped our daily average requirements to 41 kilometers for the next 33 days until the South Pole. However, the afternoon warmed up, and the wind died again around 17:30, which seems to mean that we are back to the old system and probably weaker winds ahead. The tension remains…

December 9, 2011

S78°56.806 E028°51.625

Elevation 11317 feet

There is a sound the wind makes when it beckons you out. That sound I heard when I first woke up at AM. It is more of a grunt than a rumble and, combined with its distant high pitched whistle is an unmistakable sign. I hesitated to wake Eric up, and hit the road. But a quick estimation and I decided to wait until 05:30 instead: the wind has generally been building through the morning, which means that we’d put in a long day, in cold night conditions combined with the lack of sleep, and perhaps hit it just as the fatigue set in. I woke up three times after that to the same signs.
At 05:30, I poked Eric and said:”It’s on.”
“It sounds that way”, he responded sleepily, without missing a beat.We were on the trail by 07:30. By 09:30 we had covered our daily average. By 10:30, we had broken our first 1000 kilometers for this trip.

Our first section was remarkably smooth with consistent North-north-westerly wind. Looking over to my right, I saw Eric flying over the sparse lunar terrain and, upon looking down at my shadow and the ice speeding below my skis, I could not help but think of two riders of the apocalypse from some lost world in search of a civilization! The ice conditions changed and soon we were riding some wild bucking sastrugi-ridden rodeo. Perhaps fortuitously my iPod stopped working at that point as the ride required utmost concentration, while the legs absorbed the terrain like engine pistons. Three times, my sledge flipped over. Once, my ski caught a piece of ice and threw me off balance. I fell to the side at 25 kilometers per hour but kept my eyes on the kite and after being dragged twenty or thirty feet managed to pop back up without missing a stride! Later, I saw Eric do the same. The thing about kiting on the ice is that a fall doesn’t necessarily mean you stop. That kite is still going and with a little acrobatic you might not even waste anytime! The temperatures have cooled down some, and with the wind-chill factor, we were in for a long depleting day–10 hours, door to door…

We ended with 160 kilometers for the day over eight hours of kiting, and have covered 1098 kilometers since Novo. And tonight, I am exhausted!

December 8, 2011

S77°54.992 E023°54.197

Elevation 11249 feet

One point one kilometers. That is the distance we covered by kite today. Apart from the 31 meters–the distance we managed on foot during the storm–this is officially our personal worse. It could well be a record, which would balance nicely with the one Eric and I set on Greenland last year at 595 kilometers by kites, in twenty four hours. In this case, it is hard to imagine anyone recording a much shorter distance!

The morning saw dead calm conditions again, and we thought this would be a replay of yesterday–confined to the tent with a forced rest day. But by noon, the tent’s fabric began to flutter. Ever the optimists, we chose to read this as encouraging, and packed up camp. By the time we were ready to launch, the wind remained marginal: 3.3 meters per second, and another North-north-westerly.
“It might pick up. Feels like it wants to,” I ventured tentatively.
“Yes, it’s still early,” Eric replied non committal.
In reality, it was not early: it was 13:30. And given our prior experiences, by midday, the wind rarely strengthened; more the other way. Still, after the sastrugi had its usual tiff with the lines, snagging them on every opportunity in an attempt to prevent the kites from taking off, we managed–just–to get them off the ground. But the pull was hardly convincing. A few slow meters, and a pause. When the sledge buttered against a piece of ice, the pause would extend beyond its welcome, and then fastidiously screech along with more theatrics than gusto. We were going nowhere. During a lull, my kite fell out of the sky and collapsed, lifeless, on the ice. The next weak gust moved it around just enough for the seventy five meter lines to get snagged again! I looked behind me to see Eric’s kite take the shape of a mushroom as it, too, fell to the ground. Twenty minutes, and we had covered one kilometer–or an average speed of three kilometers per hour! We decided to set the tent, as temporary shelter to see if conditions would improve. An hour later, they seemed to pull back some and we called it a day. Twenty minutes after that and the wind had shut off completely. There are times, and this is one of them, where the best thing to do–the only thing to do, in fact–is to surrender. No point in whining. Antarctica is serving us its array of conditions. And at the altitude we are traveling at to reach the POI, weak winds are on the menu.

It was colder today. My thermometer only reads down to 30C below, and by late afternoon it was pointing below that; 35C is my estimate. Even with the sun out, there was no shaking the cooler trends, and no afternoon strollon the ice. We’re going to take this as a good sign. The relative warmth of the last few days has not served the wind well, so change may be afoot. Crunching numbers, we need to average 46.5 kilometers per day between now and the South Pole. All bets are still on.

December 7, 2011

S77°54.494 E023°52.609

Elevation 11260 feet

What was it about He giveth and then taketh away? After yesterday’s hopeful signs, today has not manifested a whiff of wind. Since the early morning hours, the sun bas been in full force, blasting the tent, which makes for quite warm conditions; but not a flutter of wind. The morning was dead calm, and the afternoon has followed suit. I was hesitant, in yesterday’s blog, to address the mission’s objective for fear of jinxing it. Not that I am superstitious–it brings bad luck! But hardly were these thoughts uttered, that we are confined to stay put. A forced day of rest (and lost mileage) which turns into a housekeeping day, and our first game of chess. Eric spent much of the afternoon attempting to re-wire his precious Kindle which went on the fritz a few days ago, to his great chagrin. He has stripped wires from his head phones and pieced batteries together to give it the equivalent of an EKG. No luck yet, but we’ll keep you posted. I emptied my sledge to inspect the crack and re-organize the content. The good news is the crack seems stable to the right side of the front right ski. Since noticing it, I had moved the heavy content to the back to prevent a heavy load impact with sastrugi, a strategy that seems to work. Luckily, the sledges are beginning to feel lighter–what with one month of fuel and food less in them. I suspect they are about sixty five pounds lighter than when we started; the small bonus of each day spent–including rest days–is the weight lost to the cargo.

I spent an hour outside, and given the lack of wind, the very dry air and the full sun, the 20C below temperatures actually felt warm. But lesson learnt: wear eye protection at all time! The UV’s are also in full force.

I am revising our mileage per day calculations and cautiously optimistic about making up for the lost time. Dead calm days, like storms, should always be factored into the accounting. But on that note, optimism–sometimes idealism, occasionally naivete–is, by necessity, the additional member of an expedition. The will to make it and the belief that you can are necessary bed fellows on this type of mission. You cannot sign on without a positive outlook. Still, I thought we would break our first one thousand kilometers today. There is always tomorrow. Oh, cruel nature…

December 6, 2011

S77°54.494 E023°52.609

Elevation 11260 feet

At 6:30 this morning, I heard the low rumble of wind outside the tent. These days, any sign of wind is reason to get agitated, and the morning signs can make the difference between a deflated or energized mood. This was good enough to wake Eric up, and by 9:15, the kites were gingerly climbing in the sky. Conditions were far from epic, but given the last few days, a few knots of extra wind goes a long way. Ten minutes into our section, the terrain smoothed out completely. It was remarkable; the sastrugi was entirely gone which made for a silky glide and effortless skiing. The North-north-westerly was delivering a consistent twelve knots of straight down wind tack, the sun was blasting in our backs. Life was good. Had we finally reached the plateau’s smooth terrain and gentle katabatics? Our first two hours certainly held promise. A straight downwinder generally requires figure eight’s with the kite, and S turns with the skis. On smooth ice, given the very light resistance from the kite–we’re traveling in the same direction as the wind–and no snagging of the sledge on sastrugi, this is it actually quite fun. On our break, we marveled at the conditions. But it was not to last: barely into our second section, the ice roughened again, and soon turned into the worse we’ve seen since the demolition derby day. The wind was there but the ride turned into a rodeo as we bucked over the sastrugi cutting at a ninety degree angle across our path. The wild ride lasted twenty seven kilometers, or the length of our two hours section. This is not the environment where you want to land a kite, as the lines invariably get caught in every bit of sticking ice preventing a take off, which requires walking back and forth to clear the snags–it will drive you nuts! By the time we cleared that section, we were back to the usual conditions: a mix of smooth and rough ice, and weakening winds. They shut off by late afternoon but not before we managed to close 80 kilometers for the day. We needed that, if only as a boost of confidence. We are now 748 kilometers from the POI. If we can maintain a 45 kilometers average until the the South Pole, we just might be able to keep to the itinerary. This would leave us with twelve days to cover South Pole/Hercules Inlet and meet the mission’s three objectives:
1- First unassisted Novo to POI
2- First opening of POI/South Pole route
3- First East/West transcontinental crossing of Antarctica
From today, 45 kilometers per day separate us from those objectives. But let’s not count the eggs before they’ve hatched… Still, it’s good to dream a little.
Thank you for all the well wishes on our first month out here. Your support means a great deal to us; it is very much appreciated from the tent and on the ice!