Archive for the ‘Greenland 2010 Crossing’ Category

Late afternoon sun over the sastrugi

Greenland is, for the most part, one giant ice mass, reaching two miles in depth at its thickest, and hugged by mountains along its coasts. Its interior was first explored by Nansen who made a “do or die” traverse from East to West in 1888. The ice sheet slowly rises from just about sea level to an average elevation of around 7500 feet. The interior is an endless succession of rolling hills. The top of any of these yields commanding views of ice, in all directions, stretching as far as the eyes can see. And given the barren nature of this context, the best visual analogy is that of a frozen sea.

Our location is N62°53.532 and W046°44.960 and we are at an elevation of 8399 feet.

Even with yesterday’s disappointment, there was high hope for today. After all, in spite of the day’s rodeo, one thing it did indicate was that change was afoot. The system was moving, and with it should come some workable conditions. Should. Which is why it was hard not to feel defeated when the whole night played to the sweet tune of that roaring jet engine, and the tent shook and did not let up! I hardly slept, and began to quietly wonder where this trip was going. Regardless, I was determined to move camp today, come hell or high water. Fed up with that spot, which after six days and six nights made our campsite feel noticeably homely. And with a broken tent pole (fixed but not reinstalled), the tent had a lot less commonality with “home sweet home” than it did with a demolition derby.

Sebastian on an archeological dig: somewhere under there are two disgruntled kite skiers!

The day started in the manner which we have grown accustomed to in the last few–the last five, to be exact: howling winds, tent flapping, and some measure of discouragement. No breaking news there. This would make it day six of being pinned down inside the tent, sheltered from a nasty and persistent wind storm that has hurled snow drift at our thin nylon walls, and cranked up the decibels for what amounts to 126 uninterrupted hours! Aside from time lost, I had a growing concern: we were slowly being entombed by rising walls of snow drift! By now, our sixth day, they reached almost three feet to the leeway side.

Conducting psychological tests, or what happens after being pinned down for five days!

Woke up today to the piercing weight of silence. After five days of this brouhaha, the sound of silence, comparatively speaking, can also be piercing. It was four AM, and stirred out of my dreams, it took a moment before I realized that the tent was still! This was reinforced to me when a gust gently fluttered the walls. And then nothing. Elated, I looked to my sleeping partner.

Day four weathering the storm–no bathing suit required

There is undeniable poetry in the violent and chaotic expression of nature’s forces. We see it when the sea is angry; when lightning strikes; with torrential tropical rains; or desert sand storms. Events that have inspired artists through the ages, from the renaissance to today. In the midst of a powerful wind storm on the ice, it is easy to be awed by this natural theater, one which plays like a grand, elemental symphony.

The storm has not relented, increasing in strength and intensity. The tent shook all night long like a ragdoll. Inside, trying to catch sleep can only be described as resting inside a roaring jet engine, so loud is the wind pounding outside at the flimsy nylon walls. Eric and I scream to each other in order to communicate, up until the point when we decide that such effort is not worth the price of admission, and fall back to our respective activities! The violence displayed here is some of the fiercest I have experienced. We estimate the gusts now to be reaching over 80 miles per hour–and hope that the tent will hold up! We joke about it, but have agreed on a plan, in the event of…

The spin drift is intense, finding its way through the slightest opening. Outside, drift banks are constantly building on the side walls and have to be monitored so as not to collapse the tent. Upon stepping out, the drifting snow immediately freezes on the outwear, and lashes the face as it races across the frozen ground. Reaching about two meters in height, this liquid smoke reduces the visibility down to twenty meters or so; but above, the sky is generally visible. Occasionally, the clouds part allowing the sun’s rays to shine through, which makes for an odd, apocalyptic juxtaposition. It is hard to imagine that three days ago we were in shorts and T-shirts, in melting snow, with no wind and clear blue skies!

The tent shook violently all night. Outside the storm rages on for the second consecutive day, flying wet snow drift and piling it on the side walls of the tent. Twice this morning, we felt that the storm would let out enough to enable us to get on our way. But the prevailing white out delayed our departure. And twice the wind quickly strengthened again to full out blizzard with gusts reaching seventy miles per hour!
Not surprisingly, we are pinned down again in the tent for what now amounts to 48 hours. And what feels like a week since our first and last kiting day.
Upon stepping out of the tent, the forces of nature really makes one feel small. Frost builds out sideways on the lines of the tent, and the drift sticks to the outerwear, caking up in a layer of white. Goggles are also rapidly made obsolete from the wet snow obstructing most visibility. The mean temperature wouldn’t be so bad if it weren’t for the nasty wind-chill. In all, being outside quickly loses its charm but for a short lived experiment (very short) or clearing the snow drift trapping the sledges before the snow turns to ice…
It is difficult not to admire the design ingenuity of the sum of nylon cloth, four poles and a few lines to anchor them, which together amount to an oasis of relative tranquility amidst such external chaos. With nothing but wind and ice surrounding us in all direction, inside that little red dot which is our Hilldeberg tent, you can still find a mean cup of tea! It does say a lot about Man ability to survive in the most hostile environments.
The southern Greenland storms can be unrelenting and last for days. Let’s pray this isn’t one of them…
Our position is therefore still at N62°20.392′ W46°48.596′ and 7030 feet in elevation.

We have been pinned down in the tent all day, as a nasty storm is raging outside. We woke up to the tent flapping pretty severely but thought little of it, other than the prospect of putting miles behind us on the smaller kites. Erring on the side of caution, we decided to wait and see how the system would develop. Within an hour, the winds had intensified gusting to sixty plus miles per hour. The spin drift would soon cover the sledges and the side of the tent, giving a whole new dimension to bathroom duties! Upon stepping out, the force of the gusts makes walking on the hardened ice precariously slippery. Besides, the drifting wet snow will quickly make a walking snowman out of you. That and the hazardous wind-chill makes for a better choice inside! Here however, the tent walls are flapping with such force that air displacement inside generates its own internal wind system! If this were a movie set, I would imagine technicians hitting the walls of the tent all full force with tennis rackets, while blowing ritter fans from all directions! Eric and I play chess, read and rest. This hasn’t let up all day. As the light drops and the temperatures with it, this should make for a rock’n’roll night! These southern Greenland storm can pack a punch and last a few days. My concern is that once the system blows over, it could well be followed by dead calm–and thus no wind. Then we’d back to the baker oven… Wait: whose idea was this?

N61:21.447 W46:46.910 Elevation:1289 meters

“Bitch of a hill”, I ventured.
“Yeah. It keeps going up…”, Eric replied.
And like that, we fell back into another hour of the silence that has come to characterize our travel. There isn’t much you’re in the mood to discuss under the strain of the effort, anymore than you would talk while running a marathon. In reality we have been ascending the ice sheet for the last four days and it doesn’t seem to let up. Its crest is forever teasing ahead of us, rolling up further when it feels like we are within reach. Of course we know the deal: we have now climbed almost 1300 meters (4260 feet) in elevation since we started at sea level, and this type of effort will carry on for another 500 meters or so, unless of course the winds turn, and we can switch to kites. If Sisyphus had been dealt his punishment on the ice, he might well have been forced to pull two heavy sledges up the ice sheet forever!
The mental cycle goes something like this: first you pump yourself and fix an objective, in this case six hours of night travel. After filling up on carbs and liquids, and while the cooling temperatures are still manageable, you set off gingerly, convinced that today you will fall into your rhythm. Pretty soon, your breath shortens, and you are chasing the negative thoughts that creep inside your head (Why am I doing this? I’m too old for this @#%*! I’m not in as good a shape as I thought! I will never last through the night…). At the first break, the sweat that invariably builds on your back and stomach instantly chills from the freezing wind, and your core drops to a deep chill. The outer layer you will now put on will come off again ten minutes or so into the next cycle. By then, the blood will leave you extremities to process the food you’ve just ingested and your fingers will go numb from the cold! Time to layer up there too, for ten or fifteen minutes, until the hands get TOO warm: layer down! Meanwhile your mental resources are playing tricks on you again. Upon setting off from the break, the cold dictates the pace in order to warm up quick; and for a brief moment, you feel good! But soon, a temporary shift in the slope’s grade will rob that gait and challenge your thoughts again (I choose to be here! This kid is twenty years younger than me! Dig deep! “There’s no crying in baseball…”) In the end, the mental resources are your own; to find the reasons to push forward has a lot to do with why you’re there in the first place. Modern exploration, or extreme adventure, has mostly to do with pushing your own limits, and stretching the capabilities of the human spirit. To be cold can sometimes be reduced to a state of mind; and made abstraction of. And it doesn’t hurt that I have a little angel sitting on my shoulder!
We pushed through to our 4AM target, covering 14.6 kilometers and set up camp. Outside, the thermometer registers minus 10C degrees without wind-chill. The sun is peaking on the horizon and soon our freezing tent will turn into a sweat lodge! But for now, it’s a quick meal and the eye mask: it has never fully gotten dark and it is about to get really bright!

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