Archive for the ‘Antarctica 2011 Legacy Crossing’ Category

December 5, 2011

S77°22.351 E021°38.508

Elevation 11278 feet

Short of our walking days, today was perhaps our personal worse for distance. It’s not that the will isn’t there; it is becoming alarming how weak the wind is up here. And this has all the makings of jeopardizing our plan to reach the–aptly named– Pole of Inaccessibility in the time delays necessary. In spite of an early rise, the wind (from the North, still) was very weak. We set off on a day which, if time was not of the essence, would have likely been a forced rest day for the conditions. I can’t decide whether this is pig headed stubbornness; wild and naïve optimism; or a desperate case for perseverance. Suffices to say that our projected daily average is lagging like a ship taking water. In the first two hours we barely managed 13 kilometers. By the end of our second section, the wind had dropped to 2.1 meters per second; barely enough to pull the sledges. Often, and for a few moments, we would simply stall–not able to move at all while the sledge butted against a piece of sastrugi. By mid afternoon, following what is clearly the trend, the wind shut off completely.

If I had one recommendation for future expeditions looking for a good time kiting on Antarctica: set your bearing elsewhere! These are not fun days–with or without music. There are hard working days with little results to show for. What’s more, we are imposed short hours from the wind. Walking and hauling up here is hardly an option, as the elevation robs a good amount of oxygen from each breath. We spend time sucking on air after each extraneous effort. And as the terrain alternates between rough ice and soft snow, and as the sledges are still very heavy, that option offers little prospects: we would barely cover a kilometer before packing it. In the next few days, I will be forced to evaluate whether to set our bearing to 90 degrees South–the South Pole. Unless stronger winds manifest, and fast, the POI could elude us yet.

And now for the numbers: we traveled 28 kilometers today. We have covered 852 kilometers so far and are 790 kilometers from Novo, as the crow flies. 828 kilometers separate us from the POI… But still, we hope!

December 4, 2011

S77°09.648 E021°01.660

Elevation 11272 feet (3436 meters)

Today marks a month that we have been on the ice, and one third of the mission. Progressively, we have adjusted to the harsh environment. Early November in this part of Antarctica is cold, and at the altitude we are traveling, even colder. The first two weeks are a shock to the system. Humans are not wired to live with limited resources in environments where the average temperature is minus 30C without wind-chill, and the only element outside of air is ice. For the last two weeks, there have been no birds flying overhead, nor will there be until the final week of the trip. No contrails in the sky; no people; no organisms of any sort. In short, nothing to anchor a familiar reality around you as a reminder that you are not alone. The fact is–you are alone! Within millions of square miles. While many uncertainties prevail for the remainder of this trip, the mental threshold of doubt, insecurity, and fear of failure is behind us. There is nothing quite like the ice to make you doubt yourself, and expose your vulnerabilities. It humbles you, and perhaps that, too, is one purpose for such a mission. A stop when the winds whip up means a rapid cool down of the system. Eating commandeers blood away from the extremities and to the stomach to process that new energy. It typically means that hands get cold and sensation is lost to the fingers. Facial systems freeze while off for eating and becomes challenging to set back on; when it does, frost seizes the face. The combined effect can be disorienting, and to some extent paralyzing. Feet are often cold, and all is left is the will to push you forward, for another round. There is no vanity. Just the stark reality that you, and you alone are holding the reins of your life in hand, and to let go carries meaningful consequences. In the course of the last few weeks, I have often questioned what I am doing here. Though I remember contemplating the same on prior expeditions, it did not help; I thought perhaps this time was the one: too big, too old, and under qualified. In reality, most of the challenge takes place inside you head. That is where the battle is waged. With good preparation, and good equipment, eighty percent of the trip is mental. And if you can get past the initial hump, what is left are the two laws of perseverance. Law number one: take one step forward. Law number two: continue walking. If you cannot continue, refer back to law number one…

The northeasterly wind was so marginal this morning, that it seems as though today was a forced rest day. I woke up at 6:30, and this time decided to let Eric sleep. By mid morning, the situation had not changed but we decided to give it a shot. The kites barely lifted off the ground and as we crawled forward, no amount of music could speed up the two hour sections. There were times when we moved so slow, it might have been faster to walk. I chose to accept it; as always: you cannot get mad at the weather! In the middle of our second section, the wind simply died. We were in the tent by 15:30. Outside the air was still, and the sun in full glory. Without wind, the 20C below actually felt pleasant–all things being relative–and I went for a stroll. This confirms that for where we are, and unless a system develops, the best travel is early morning. Brrrr! We barely managed 34.5 kilometers today but we did have the afternoon off!

December 3, 2011

S76°54.777 E020°11.778

Elevation 11274 feet

If one measure of friendship is at the very least knowing your friend’s name, close behind should be the ability to spell it properly. In yesterday’s blog, I misspelled my fiend DJ Isaiah’s name. Mind you, when parents pick Isaiah for a name, they commit their son to a life of being asked: “How do you spell that”?, by post office clerks and administration officials. No excuse, really, but it did get me thinking. Sorry about that, brother Martin. Now, would you like some stamps with that? (Please note: I went ahead and fixed that typo for Sebastian…knowing that he would have, had he been in any other circumstance, noticed that mistake immediately.-Jessica)

Last night, about an hour after falling asleep, I woke up from a vicious case of burning eyes, so much so that I felt like crawling up the tent’s walls. I rubbed then, closed them, opened them and rubbed them again–nothing was helping. It felt like dozens of paper cuts right on the eye. I kited for about one hour without eye protection yesterday. As we know, the chlorofluorocarbons (CFC’s) which used to be found in aerosols and refrigeration devices, have depleted the ozone, particularly in Antarctica. The ozone, among other things, is a filter of Ultra Violet rays (UV’s) which are harmful to the skin and the eyes. Omitting to wear eye protection essentially created a temporary sun burn of the retina, called snow blindness. Some antibiotic eye drops and a sleeping pill a by morning, the pain was mostly gone but I saw everything through a white haze. Not ideal when maneuvering in a white environment. It was as if seeing life through fogged lenses, which robbed all details from the ice’s surface. Less than ideal as the wind was pretty good in the morning and our cruising speed for the first two hours netted us 35 kilometers. The terrain seems to arbitrarily shift from quite smooth to rough and sastrugi ridden. I am not sure why, but that is a good question for our friends at the National Snow and Ice Data Center (NSIDC) in Boulder, Colorado. Half an hour into our second period, Eric took a nasty fall which resulted in a broken binding. The consequences could be crushing as he does not carry a spare. My frustration was partly directed at myself for not imposing the same binding system as mine for redundancy, after he insisted on carrying a different system. I carry a spare. On an expedition like this, streamlining the variables is critical. However, I will give him credit for McGuivng a fix with wires and a strap, after we set up the tent for about two hours. How long it will last, especially when the winds picks up and the terrain worsens remains to be seen. We probably won’t know until after the South Pole. For now, this remains mostly his inconvenience, on top a a nasty altitude cough that has been with him for about a week.

By the time we hit the trail again, the wind had pulled back and predictably died by 17:00, as usual. We did manage an acceptable 77.32 kilometers total for the day. Chipping away at it.

December 2, 2011

S76°23.165 E018°14.968

Elevation 11296 feet

With today came the epiphany I was waiting for. No, it was not the wind; as expected, it remained weak for most of the day, and shut off, as usual and on cue, around 17:00. The epiphany had nothing to do with external forces. Simply put: I surrendered. I adjusted my expectations, which had been optimistic to the point of naivete. Something about the definition of insanity–doing the same thing over and again expecting a different result. Well, expecting more wind when the signs point elsewhere resonates of the same. I expected the mental adjustment would come, as it has on every expedition. Given enough time, you find it within yourself to relinquish control and embrace all of it: the highs, the lows and everything in between. As we are now one third into the trip, the same basic laws of life apply. Roll with the punches, don’t be phased by challenges–they’ll always be there and eventually resolve themselves, one way or the other–and attitude is everything. And so today, upon setting off, I looked ahead at the endless sea of ice, and as my kite slowly lifted off the ground, I decided to love all of it. OK, music was a catalyst, I’ll admit it. But only insofar as smoothing the transition. My decision was already made: no equipment failure, broken bones or any amount of externalities can challenge the fact that, internally, I realize the extraordinary experience Eric and I are living–right now. Every day, we set off into a world that may as well be the moon. A world so antagonistic to any form of life, and yet we prevail. What’s more, it is a blank canvas on which to paint anything I choose, and re-evaluate the world in the way that works for me. My mind is serene, and as I stare into this frigid realm, I see freedom, not pain. Each foot of ground covered, however slowly, is another small miracle, and a victory that lives outside the records, the clamor and the validation. It is a victory of the self.

Now. About the music: happy, happy, joy, joy! Not since Greenland last year have I come to experience the perfect marriage of music with putting on miles. Think road trip without a road! Nowhere is music more transcendental than in a desert. And this ice desert is no exception. If you think the spiritual epiphany had to do with my iPod, you would only be partially right. In truth, the iPod stopped working two hours into our day–probably the cold. But it was enough to set the tone. To that effect, a huge thank you to my friend and favored DJ who provided playlists for the trip: Isaiah Martin–you rock! And to DJ Temple Monkey a.k.a. Beau Robb who is quickly climbing the list of my personal favorites–thank you for the beats!

There was a pocket today, by mid afternoon, when the wind picked up for an hour; the terrain smoothed out completely; with the wind in our back and even sans music, the scratching of the skis on the ice with the high pitch whistling of the kite’s lines provided the perfect organic sound, and that was a taste of perfection. Soon, it was back to the grind but somehow, today, even that felt right.
We traveled 73.5 kilometers and are now 967 km from the Antarctica Pole of Inaccessibility.

December 1st, 2011

S75°56.553 E016°12.944

Elevation 11277 feet

I’ll admit that there are moments during days like today when I can’t help but think that there are more productive ways to spend your time. The measure of one’s achievement, of course, is not defined by the glory days–anyone can shine on those. It is measured by the result, and the work it took to get you there. And today was the work; like punching the clock, and getting it done without much gratification. Winds at this altitude are expected to be light. That is the way the katabatic winds work: the low angle of the sun pushes cold air down; given its greater mass, cold air gains velocity as it rolls downhill, pulled by the same gravitational laws that hit Newton in the head with an apple. And given our altitude, there is not much more to go up, therefore not a lot of speed for winds to gather. But considering how light the wind was today, I wonder whether we will need a miracle to get to the POI on time–at the very least more prayers!

We set off in marginal conditions but managed to cover twenty four kilometers during our first two hour period. Over our second, however–what’s new?–the wind progessively dropped, and we managed barely eighteen. That is an average speed of nine kilometers per hour–an average! In reality, the last hour probably netted about five kilometers, down to a crawl. It is like watching paint dry, but with some added discomfort: a lot of stress on the knees; the back gets squeezed all ways by the harness–does wonders for sore ribs; and perhaps the worse is the tedium tha reaps havoc with the mind. Unfortunately my iPod, which showed full batteries upon setting off, died the moment the kite lifed off the ground. This was my first iPod day–which would have gone some ways in creating a diversion. I was left with all manners of psychological self-motivation which today, I will concede, amounted to little more than some cursing at the wrong end of spiritual contemplation! A consolation: heading with the wind means the cold is less noticeable: at minus 30C, even a light breeze cuts into the flesh like a razor blade. As well, the sun was out which made for a warmer travel day. In all we managed 43.1 in four hours before the wind simply shut off. We have covered 590 kilometers since we set off from Novo, twenty seven days ago. Still a long way to go. I did ponder on two pieces of gear that make my life out here noticeably more pleasant: my Northwinds over mitts made by my friend and Eric’s mother–simply the best damn over mitts I’ve ever worn, thank you Matty! And my goggles made for us by REVO, polarized and with remarkable definition; the best lenses on the market. Even better, they don’t fog up. Out here, equipment can sometimes put a smile on your face. And today it did.

November 30, 2011

S75°40.878 E015°03.356

Elevation 11212 Feet

Somebody’s wind prayers were answered today; but in a way commensurate with our age of lowered expectation and economic moderation! In other words, the wind did show but without much fanfare. Still, it was a northeasterly, which meant tailwinds and a more pleasant way to travel. The terrain has roughened up again, though nothing like what we experienced on that miserable day ten days ago. Besides, the sun was out, and while I am ever conscious to navigate around the steeper bumps in a constant effort to prevent further cracking of my sled, we did manage a reasonable 88 kilometers for the day. The wind progressively weakened until 17:00 when it shut off completely. This, by now, has proven to be the pattern–exactly why, I am not sure. Obviously it has to do with a thermal gradient, though I did not think these applied on the ice. We flew the 14 meter Yakuza’s all day. Thank God for those, as I have a feeling they will be our bread and butter until South Pole. It is amazing the pull they generate even in 8 to 10 knots of wind.

I am computing mileage and days every night, and based on a daily average of 45 kilometers per day, we should be able to make both poles. The winds are likely to be weakening however, especially between the POI and South Pole, a section which remains a large variable. For now, the target is to make 72 kilometers daily average until December 15, the date on which I would like to reach POI, 1080 kilometers from here. We will then have 26 days to reach South Pole, 800 kilometers further, with a daily average of 30 kilometers per day. This figures some pulling days when the wind is absent–and likely the toughest sections of the expedition, given the altitude, soft snow and temperature…
But for now, we focus on tomorrow.

PS Regarding today’s photo, obviously we are sustainable on the expedition, save the small amount of white fuel we burn (0.3 liter per day). But the flights to and from Los Angeles andd Montreal, including the charted flights to the ice, were made carbon neutral by our friends at Climate Partner. Thank you for that support!

November 29, 2011

S75°03.035′ E013°10.911

Elevation 11231 feet

Today did not turn out to be the day of glorious travel we have been waiting for. It was, by default, a day of rest. The morning was dead still and by noon, when a weak flutter manifested off the tent’s fabric, it turned out to be a Southeasterly–squarely where we are headed (our bearing at this point is 151°). Besides, by mid afternoon, as has been customary, the wind died altogether. A weak consolation prize: the sun was blasting the tent, and outside, the lack of wind made for a pleasant day which I optimized by going out on a walk. With camera, of course. I have been mesmerized by the shapes the low angle sun defines on the ice–raw, abstract and organic. This has become somewhat of an obsession these last weeks, and for today, a good way to constructively use time. Hidden in these random forms, shaped by the wind, are faces, animals or art deco lines and patterns. The ice delivers infinite variety, and chilly though it got, I put in two hours of good work. Besides, with four feet of ceiling space, a day in the tent essentially means lying down. Anytime the sun is out, the wind absent and temperatures hover around 20C below is a good opportunity to stretch the legs. This of course, will not get us closer to the 1167 kilometers that separates us from the POI, our first stop which I had hoped to reach by December 15th. It now means an daily average of around 72 kilometers, not daunting per se, but given the weak winds and poor direction–and our daily kiting average thus far: 42 kilometers!–a growing concern. This pretty much eclipses my hopes to make time on this leg for the uncertain stretch between POI and South Pole, a crossing that has, to this day, never been done. A big focus of the mission centers on that 800 kilometers section, opening it for the first time. Theoretically, the slow downhill grade that leads to the South Pole should generate tail winds, even if weak. Unfortunately, that is the same logic that should manifest northeasterly katabatics here and, well, we all know where that theory has gotten us. I had factored twenty five days for that section, one that remains a mystery. Any chartered flight within that region is so cost prohibitive that they are not even an option. In a few days, I will have to consider foregoing the POI and focus on the South Pole for just a transcontinental crossing. Our pick up off the ice is no later than January 26th. Seems a long way out, but not for the distances we need to cover. So we pray for good winds, starting tomorrow…

November 28, 2011

S75°03.035′ E013°10.911

Elevation 11231 feet

Antarctica is the largest ice mass in the world. But it wasn’t always the case, of course. During the last mini ice age, about 15,000 years ago, the Arctic ice cap expanded across all of Canada and as far south into the US as Pennsylvania. In fact, much of North America looked just like the terrain that we are experiencing here: vast, frozen and lifeless. As we advance farther into the heart of Antarctica, I can’t help but imagine–with a chill–what it would be like if the New York coastline was a mile or so below my skis. It may seem far fetched, but it isn’t, really. This is likely to happen again, though admittedly, I won’t be around when it does; which is just as well.

That thing about the early bird gets to fly from yesterday’s post has not turned out to be that, exactly. I woke up at six, then seven, then eight to the same lifeless excitement outside: the tent did not so much as flutter. Not a whiff of wind. It looked as though the day was a bust, but around 11:00 the low decibel sound of wind manifested timidly. There was just enough to get the big guns out, and the angle was acceptable: it meant beating upwind some, and with the powerful pull of the Yakuza’s, this translate to a real leg workout, but not necessarily much speed. Still, we were moving. The squeeze on my rib cage was less than ideal, but I have been popping Ibu 800’s like they were tic tacs–which brings up the concern of running out–and the pain comes and goes. I am frugal with the anti inflammatory at night to conserve on reserves. This means that any movement I make in the night typically wakes me up, and I am forced to sleep on my back. The strain is a downer, but I am getting used to it, and thankfully, apart from that, it is manageable.

The elephant in the room of this trip is, of course, the temperature. By the time we called the day, by 17:30, with winds so light the squeeze and effort were not worth the mileage, the temperature was around 35C below. The moment the effort stops, that cold has a bite that stays with you long after you’re in the tent and wrapped deep in the sleeping bag. Yesterday, I also noticed a crack in my sledge in one of the rails. It is of concern for the rest of the trip; not now while we are high on the plateau as the surface is smoother, but when we start encountering bad sastrugi again, this could have serious consequences. It surely happened on the demolition derby day, and I have been taking stowaway snow since. Argh! Another headache. We still managed 47.32 kilometers today and have broken 500 kilometers since Novo–504 to be exact!

November 27, 2011

S74°39.420′ E012°34.774′

Elevation 11174 Feet

The doldrums have as much to do with fun navigating the oceans as they do the ice. In fact, kite skiing an ice cap has a lot in common with ocean sailing. The infinite expanse of ice a frozen sea. Each feature on its surface like frozen waves, each hill a rolling swell. The feeling of isolation and complete freedom is also the same. Outside the clutter of communication, it is a place of introspection and examination. Where time stretches, and thoughts find the space to be heard. I like to think that, if not a better person, one comes back a more actualized one for the time you get to spend with your thoughts. Who gets to do that in the real world? On the ocean or the ice you can reflect. And reflection is one sure way to eventually find inner peace. But just the same, the doldrums can reap havoc to that peace and challenge your inner Buddha! On the ocean, it’s the slow roll of the hull, the flapping of the sails and the rhythmic clanking that gives even a stowaway rat the urge to hit the bottle and stretch a hammock. Out here the doldrums are not dead calm days: those are rest days. The doldrums are when the wind is there enough to get you out for fear of missing a day and badly needed miles, but so marginal that to endlessly watch the kite dive and slowly rise to gain a few meager feet could actually get you sea sick!

This is the dirty little secret of kiting expeditions: for each hour of glorious glide, flying over the ice like battle wagging Valkyryes, there are ten hours of fastidious, labor intensive haggling with the elements, at the losing end of a sore deal. But sitting rarely gets you where you want to go, and so for the last two hours of today’s travel, we negotiated each hard earned kilometers until the wind just petered out around 15:30. We started with a bang and ended with a whimper: the glory points were worth the price of admission, nonetheless, with strong wind for the first ninety minute section of our day which netted us 26 kilometers and the 48.38 kilometers daily total was sweat and back pain tears. It seems the pattern has been just that: good mornings and early shut off. This will force us out of bed: the early bird gets to fly!

November 26, 2011

S74°16.386′ E011°.48.553′

Elevation 11003 feet

(Luke, I’m Your Father)

Given how predictably the wind has shut off at 17:30 or so the last few days, we decided to leave earlier with the intent to gain a hour or two of travel time. Setting up and breaking camp takes longer than one would assume. Everyday, you set up house, which isn’t to say we air the sheets and set the table. But bringing in sleeping pads, bags, cooking gear and communication devices; setting up solar panels, electronics and personal effects; hanging gloves and clothes to dry; melting snow for water–AND THEN airing the sheets and setting the table!–takes time. From the moment we wake up, until we are out on the trail, which generally includes time to write the blog and upload images for transmission, it generally takes about two and a half hours. Writing typically happens in the morning because the tent is too cold in the evening–generally about 20C below by the time we shut off. Sleep time means full facial cover and a hat; you cannot shove your head in the sleeping bag–tempting and warm though it is–as the breath turns to steam which eventually will turn to frost…

When we left in the morning, the wind was blowing timidly; worse, its angle had shifted twenty degrees further East, which meant that our tacking angle was pushing us farther and away from our bearing. With the light wind, gaining upwind ground is even more difficult: it is slow and painstaking, and this time yielded questionable returns. We switched from the 13 meter Frenzy’s to the big guns, the 14 meter Yakuza’s hoping to gain speed and upwind tack. In the end, all this achieved was more pull, more work on the legs and no upwind gain. We switched back, but again, impossible to gain ground. By 16:00 after a lot of work, we set down and called it a day. The wind was there, just poor direction. I hope this will not be the trend. Our research and past accounts points to a wind angle more in the North by now, but this is yet to materialize. We quit early, which this time, enables me to write this updates on the day rather than the next. That is the silver lining. There’s always one…

We traveled 27.4 kilometers–even if somewhat in the wrong direction. Enjoy your weekend everyone; I hope it is warm!