January 20-21, 2012

S83°15.111 W080°02.357

Elevation 3712 feet

We waited all night; and waited all day. By late afternoon, the ceiling of white clouds that had been over us for the past three days opened up, and patches of blue sky brought new details to the surroundings. The visibility was back, revealing the Thiel mountain range behind us. But the winds were timid. We tested the kites for flight, got dressed and ready to go, only to return to the tent as they were faltering. A slight flutter of the tent’s walls motivated another try and we made a go for it. With the mountains as vivid backdrop, we were finally on the move. The southerly winds put us on a straight downwind tack. The terrain was smooth, and soft. The wind at the surface was very weak, but fifty meters above, it was strong enough, and so long as we did not drop too low, the long lines on the Yakuza’s propelled us forward at a pretty good click. The soft snow made for smooth, long “S” turns; the temperature was pleasant. In this way, the day was shaping up to deliver some of the best, most enjoyable rides we have had perhaps the entire trip. And we were gaining efficient, easy miles. A civilized way to reward us for the closing of this expedition. It wasn’t long, however, before the terrain started roughening up. After four hours of some of the very best snow and flat terrain Antarctica had delivered, the ground begun hardening, and the sastrugi increased in size and volume. Within less than thirty minutes after the smoothest rides of the trip, we found ourselves in the densest, most shredded terrain we have experienced, with dips as great as a meter deep and large, hard sastrugi heads, all this over terrain that reminded me of over sized cheese grate! The wind had built through the day, and flying over this may well have loosened some of my fillings, and made my brain rattle! We switched to the thirteen meters, for easier maneuvering around the broken up grounds, while reducing our speed. On one occasion, my sledge wedged to a violent stop against a sastrugi head, from a twenty kilometers per hour speed. The force was such, that it ripped the leash attachment off my harness and tore the back of it completely. I was launched in the air by the newly released and powered up kite and landed squarely on my shoulder, on the hard ice. I had maneuvered around a sastrugi formation, but the sledge had slipped and collided head on with a four foot head. No break, luckily–neither for me nor the sledge. But I am not sure why. I rigged a different attachment on the harness, and we were back at it, with extra caution! Eventually, we came upon a road, or as much as what can be called a road out here, which amounts to a vehicle track over which at least three expedition recently added their own. Out here, it is the equivalent of a highway! The road leads to Hercules Inlet; from this location, any track would. We jumped on it. While still hard and cheese grate-like, it was clear of the large sastrugi dips and head, and removed navigation from the equation. But the winds soon dropped, and we had trouble keeping the thirteen’s in the air. Travel slowed to a crawl, and we packed the kites up, and set up the tent. We had been on the trail for ten hours and felt pretty worked. Once the tent was up, however, the wind seem to come up a little. Eric and I looked at each other, and without saying much, quickly agreed to break it down, set up the big kites, and keep going. This time, we were in for a white knuckled adrenaline fueled ride down that yellow brick road! The winds quickly built up again, and over that hard ice, with little friction, our speed was almost out of control–reaching fifty kilometers per hour over terrain that I would not speed over with a 4X4! We pushed for thirty minutes, but decided to switch down again: it would be a shame to get injured this close from the end, and there were definitely times when the kite would pull us off the “road” for some rough riding. We rigged the thirteen’s again, but within forty five minutes, we were down to a crawl. The winds had just shut off. The sun was bright. The temperature reasonably warm at about 15C below. We had been on the trail for twelve hours, and had put a good dent into the remainder of miles separating us from the finish line. We traveled 233.6 kilometers–three kilometers from our personal best of the trip–which puts us 363 kilometers from target. We have four days to complete mission. Things are looking hopeful.

January 19, 2012

S85°18.529 W083°54.900

Elevation 4551 feet

We stayed on alert through the first part of the night, listening for signs from the fickle wind. Gusts would come and go, toying with our nerves and determination. We had spent Scott’s centennial arrival at the South Pole, on the 17th, in our chilled tent, buried in the sleeping bags. At 03:00 AM, Eric stepped out and tested his kite; would we fly in such weak winds. The long lines on the Yakuza’s reached a wind line above, so long as we could get them up. We broke up camp and got ready. The sky had remained white, and the contrast was, again, marginal. I looked at my sleeve. The light flakes falling on my dark glove confirmed that it was snowing: white on white, it was otherwise impossible to tell. We got the kites up and, like nomads of the white desert, glided away one more time. We cut a ninety degree angle to the easterly wind. The ceiling opened up slightly within the first hour, revealing the uneven terrain we had been negotiating. That eased the tension of blind navigation, and for a while, delivered acceptable distance. The wind on the surface was still negligible, but so long as the kite stayed up, we were moving. As the cloud cleared, the Thiels mountains appeared in the distance, west of us. Strange though it sounds, these are the first natural features we have seen, other than ice and clouds, since the Queen Maude range, over two months and almost two thousand miles ago! The base was visible, piercing through the surface of the ice, though a few hundred feet above, a layer of clouds shrouded the peaks, keeping them from our sight. In our short travel, we had dropped further in elevation, though the temperature, at twenty below, hardly reflected that. The sun played a game of hide and seek with the cloud, finally losing, and the sky once again was closing in. With it, the winds dropped until soon, the kites floated down, robbed of the power to move forward. This would mean another campsite. The developing humidity was evidenced by the building of frost on the kites’ lines, weighting them down. We stayed optimistic that the 60 kilometers traveled that morning would be supplemented later in the day; it was 8:00 AM. But that was not to be. All day, stillness overtook the landscape, while the sunless sky kept us chilled in the tent. We are striking out with the conditions out here, notorious for their consistently strong katabatic winds. The system we are in has robbed us from the promise of mileage and an early arrival. As it now stands, we have 598 kilometers to go before Hercules, and basically five, perhaps six days to complete them. The tension builds–so close. Will we be allowed to close…?

January 18, 2012

S85°50.641 W084°39.674′

Elevation 5323 feet

We got up in the middle of the night, broke up camp and set the kites out, only to concede that the wind was too weak. This was just drill. We were back to bed, to repeat the exercise four hours later. The sky was pure white, and with the ice, this made for a featureless environment. No horizon; no detail off the ground; no sense of where the sky began and where the ice stopped. We were characters in a pure white void, a blank canvas where all that was visible were us, the kites and the sledges. There was wind, not strong, though the speed was impossible to determine: our progress was entirely abstract since we had no point of reference except for the GPS at the end of a section. The ice was gliding below our skis, but how fast? It was impossible to tell. Occasionally, upon diving the kite, it would crash so hard it was to determine a horizon. Thankfully, the terrain was smooth, and the snow relatively soft which facilitated travel–at first. But without warning, and probably because we descended further and dropped on the face of an invisible ondulation, we found ourselves in the middle of what evidently was a pronounced sastrugi field. The smooth ride was replaced with erratic jerking and obstacles that were met without warning, or foresight! The sledge would tip inexplicably, from colliding with unseen sastrugi heads. It was disconcerting. My toes felt the biting, sunless cold. The wind was faltering, and the conditions amounted to some of the more unpleasant day of the trip. We chose to wrap it up, and in no time, the wind simply shut off. We were back in the tent; it was 9:00 in the morning, and we hoped for a second shot at closing some miles later in the day. The wind never came back, though now, at 23:30 hours, it sounds as if it might manifest. Forecast calls for eight to ten knots. We need to get on the road; we are 658 kilometers from Hercules Inlet, and have six days left to close the gap… Today we merely managed 41 kilometers. The pressure is on.