Archive for the ‘Greenland 2010 Crossing’ Category

Greenland hints at its extremes as the stillness and thawing daytime temperatures fluidly roll into night and the cutting wind drop the air down to twenty below. During the day, the sun relentlessly beats down on the ice’ surface, turning the night’s hard crust into wet snow. This makes impractical daytime travel: the sledges and our skis sink into the slush, adding prohibitive drag to the loads. Consequently, we have turned the clock and set off when the sun hugs the horizon ending its apex, and the air temperature plummets. This makes for a vertiginous range in conditions: under the midday sun, inside the tent is like a baking oven! But upon setting off for our nightime sojourn, we brace ourselves for the piercing cold of the headwinds.

Yesterday we spent the afternoon resting and reading. Stepping outside the tent, I took in the fading mountain range to the south, and the way the haze diffused the multiple layers of ridges and peaks. With the domineering white ice in the foreground, it looked like a water color of itself. Soon, and for the next forty days, we will see no such features: the only shapes will be those made by clouds, or the way the wind and the melt defines the ice’ surface (the “sastrugi”).

By 9PM, we broke camp, strapped on our skis and begun making miles. Cold at first, the body quickly heats up under the strain of the effort: we are still pulling uphill, and will be doing so for a while. On breaks, the sweat instantly cools down, and the freezing wind sets a deep chill that will stay with me all night. Pulling the sledges in this condition reminds me of the North Pole, and sets the tone for the South Pole. It is hard work! At this latitude and at this time of the year, the night no longer goes totally dark, and long after it has set, the sun’s glow meekly hangs below the horizon. Breaks offer brief interludes to the intense effort, their length dictated by the cold that sets in almost immediately. A few dry fruits and nuts and a swig of protein and we set off again in the silence that characterizes this type of travel.

By 3:30AM we call it a night. I am especially tired, having not adjusted yet to the night schedule, and miscalcullated my fuel intake. A quick dinner and I crawl inside my sleeping bag, bundled up from the deep chill that has been with me all night. In a couple of hours, I will wake up wet with sweat as the sun will reverse this vicious cycle…

When the ice suddenly gives from under you, and your legs dangle above a void the depth of which is unclear, you get about the same jolt as when a car screeches to a halt inches from running you over…

We camped mid afternoon yesterday hoping that by evening the ice’ surface would harden some: pulling the sledges uphill is all the more tedious when your foot sinks to the knee with every other step.

By 7 PM we broke camp and set off. The sun was hanging low casting a golden glow on the ice ridge ahead of us. The ice sheet was within sight, though distances in this environment can be deceiving. But the warm colors of the sky belied the biting grip of the wind that picked up. And the placid setting hid the drama that was unfolding below us: we were now square in the middle of the crevasse field! Each variation in color had to be carefully considered, for what might pass for hard ice could in fact be but a flimsy bridge. The cooling temperatures would no doubt solidify this treacherous terrain, but

There is a point of diminishing returns when the dropping light makes challenging the deciphering of color or textural changes. Often, we might make out the curving droop of gravity doing its work on a weak bridge. But for the most part, we probe each step ahead of us with a ski poll, extracting information that can mean the difference between going through; or not. On occasion, however, adrenaline shoots up when a leg–or two–goes clean through the ice! Outside of Newton’s law, there is nothing familiar about dangling in void, your legs sucked in a hole while your upper body struggles on the surface! Both Eric and I trade some of this excitement. To worsen matters, the ice’s surface in the end has not harden enough to support our weight, and we sink to our ankle with each step. In all, we mostly labor through making two kilometers. Temperatures have dropped to ten below. The wind’s chill and the heavy effort takes me back to the North pole, and upon sitting on the sledge sucking on air for a fuel stop, I re-visit some of last year’s moments on the way to the pole.

On the morning of our third day, we stretch our time in the tent as we begin to roll the clock. The winds die down to a deadly stillness, and the sun beats down on the tent. With the vents closed, it’s like an oven in here! What a contrast to last night when I went to sleep with a mask over my face! We ditched our goat milk powder this morning which tasted like, well, ahem, ass–pardon my French! I’m just missing the bright side of mixing goat cheese into your morning cereal! This was a nutritional trick shared with me by my friend Lonnie Dupre, but I’m not seeing it! It shaves a few pounds off the load and will is sure to distract polar bears. At this stage, we are unlikely to encounter any unless perhaps at the end of the trip: they would find no business up on this barren ice desert. Except for us…and now the goat milk!

Scaling a glacier with 240 pounds in tow, on soft snow feels like a hard labor sentence! But I doubt even prisoners work this hard. The crusty snow periodically breaks underfoot sinking one or two feet. Occasionally, this reveals a river below the ice which is perfect if you like wet feet! We slowly and fastidiously make our way up to the ice sheet, maneuvering carefully inside the crevasse field. Crevasses occur when an ice mass (typically a glacier or ice sheet) collapses as it pours downward. The gravitational pull literally creates cracks in the ice. Mostly, these run from a few feet to thirty or fifty feet. A large crevasse can reach depths of a few hundred feet. Additionally, snow fall or drift can create bridges which will hide the open space below. A good bridge will freeze over and give solid footing. A bad bridge will collapse when crossed. More often, your leg might sink to the hip and give a fright. Needless to say, falling in a crevasse and dragging heavy cargo after you is no one’s idea of a good time! It will kill you.

Luckily, bridges are generally visible for the different features or coloration they display. This provides early warning.
Today, the sky is clear and the sun’s powerful reflection on the glacier is blinding. In spite of the 40F degrees, it takes no time to get toasty while walking up a twenty degree slope in this type of soft snow. It’s a grind!

After six hours, we decide to set up camp. We will soon revert to a night schedule, as the winds then are generally good for kiting. Inside the tent, the sun is baking. It’s feels much like a greenhouse… But a hot soup with a piece of cheese is an easy lay-up for a nap. We will hit the trail again in four hours and travel until AM, beginning the shift in our rhythm. The coastal features are slowly fading in the distance. Soon there will be nothing but sky and ice–and this for about forty days!

But for now, our elevation yields a the commanding view of the surroundings and the vistas are majestic. The iceberg we were maneuvering around yesterday are but white specs on the horizon. This was a grind. But with any luck, we might feel the pull of the kites by tomorrow. And the race will be on!

As I write this, we are in the tent for our first night on the ice!
Woke up early in the ghostly hamlet of Narsarsuaq to finish packing. Yesterday we arranged for a local fisherman to take us to the mouth of the glacier. But word came that there is a lot of ice drifting between the islands which could make this challenging. After a short sleep in the kiddy bunk bed, I finish individual packing of daytime snacks. In all, we each have six kilos of chocolate! And enough candy to give any dentist a coronary! On the trail, that sugar translates to instant fuel. At home, you could just as well rub it on your thighs, ’cause that’s where it would be going!
The boat is waiting for us at noon. We arrange to have our bags shipped to Qaanaaq, some 2300 kilometers away where 45 days from now, with luck on our side, we will make our exit from the ice.

Last minute check, and we load our four sledges–two each, packed with close to 450 pounds of food, clothes and survival gear–into the small open skiff. The powerful engine rips through the glassy waters, speeding past the ice chunks littering the fjord. We stop in Naarsaaq, twenty minutes away, to get the sign off from the local police by presenting our approved application, our insurance and emergency equipment–a personal locator beacon and two iridium satellite phones.
Thirty minutes later, we pull out of the small picturesque harbor into the choppy sea of the bay. The wind picked up and we are getting a taste of its cold bite. The water gets thicker with ice and our driver shows no signs of slowing down, even as his boat gets pummeled by the progressively bigger chunks. We finally slow down, as the outboard is getting seriously manhandled. So much so that we twice end up perched on top of a slab! Pretty soon it is becoming clear that we’ll not get through. The glacier is visible three miles ahead, but there is simply too much ice to make it through. We pull out of this mess and we are told that he will approach it from a different route. This adds two hours to the approach. The wind pierces right to the bone but the water is open and we soon pull into a quiet cove at the mouth of the giant glacier. We unload the sledges, and bid our farewell. As the engine sound fades into the distance, it is now clear that the real adventure begins now! The next stop is on the other side of the continent! Without wasting time we haul our heavy sledges, one at a time, up onto the ice. When the slope softens, we tie both sledges together and begin the laborious task of getting up on the ice sheet. The sun is low on the horizon and we slowly gain ground and elevation.
We walk over the bridge of our first sizeable crevasse, some forty feet deep. After four hours, 2.8 km and 208 meters in elevation, we call it a day. Its is 9:30
PM. We avoided the volcano’s ashes; the baggage capacity scare; the iced out waterways; and six days after leaving Los Angeles, we are finally pulling our cargo across the ice!
Tomorrow will be tense, as we negotiate the crevasse fields. Easy does it. No kiting for the next two days. But the crevasses will keep us focused and alert.

May 9, 2010  Los Angeles/Montreal

The last few days have resembled what can be expected from final preparations on any expedition. The last minute shopping; the triple checking off the lists; the pulling in favors from friends with anything from sowing on sponsor patches (thank you T-Mac!) to running errands (thank you Mikhail!) to transferring powders into space saving bags (thank you Jeremy!) to finalizing bill payments and personal matters inherent to long absences , in this case close to ten weeks away from home…

Finally there is the last stretch which invariably factors staying up all night, meticulously packing each carefully selected item, mindful not to forget–there are no convenience stores on the ice–and not to overpack, since everything will be carried, pushed or dragged and the weight can quickly add up to mostly grunts and curses!

In the early morning, when most items have been checked off the list, comes time to shower, spend a moment with my dog, Guerra, who senses that trouble is afoot: all that packing means another absence. She huddles near my feet hoping against hope that I might pack her with me…!

Jeremy has offered to drive me to the airport, along with Mikhail who has stayed up all night out of sympathy. The three of us–and the dog–head for the airport with comfortable margins for the extra weight–almost two hundred pounds of skis, kites, protein powders, clothes and equipment, camera gear and just about anything to survive unassisted for 40 to 45 days on the ice.

After a nice send off, I lean back in my seat as the plane takes off for Montreal where I will meet Eric for two days of finalizing our lists.This is the first leg of what will take five days just to get to the ice! Greenland is off the beaten path and requires flying to Copenhagen for an overnight connection, followed by a flight, a boat ride and a hike… You get the picture!