December 26, 2011

S81°30.193 E050°44.931

Elevation 12175 feet

We’ll be denied our final approach one more time today, as the storm rages on, displaying the strongest conditions we have yet experienced on this trip. We had hoped to make a go for it in the night. Last night, the evening temperatures had held us back as the sun was in hiding, and the wind-chill set a morose tone for our advance at 50C below, especially as the tent remained chilled as well. The plan was to rise at 04:00 AM and hit the trail by 06:00 to close the gap with the still elusive POI. At 96 kilometers from us, the distance could conservatively be covered in five to six hours with decent winds. At 04:00, I opened the flap to confirm that these were not traveling conditions. Strong winds had been shaking the tent pretty violently, and outside, the cloud cover and blowing snow reduced visibility down to thirty meters or so. I did not bother waking Eric. I repeated the exercise an hour later, and again the following; the wind was only growing stronger. By 07:00 I gave up and fell asleep for good, amidst the roaring and violent growl of the building storm. Buried inside my sleeping bag, I did not emerge before noon. Eric was still sleeping. I stepped outside for a few seconds, just long enough to stick the wind meter in the air. It read 44.8 knots, but this surely was not the strongest gust! Snow banks had built around the tent, half burrying the sledges, while the blowing snow raced up to five feet above the ground, fast disappearing in the blanket of shapeless white that surrounded us. Within seconds, snow was sticking to my tent clothes and turning me into the boxing day snowman. Drift was filling the tent’s vestibule, and it was time to dive back inside the bag. I would estimate the temps to be around 60C below with wind, and the peak gusts over fifty knots.

I zipped up the bag, pulled the elastic fastener around my neck, my rabbit hat covering my ears, and watched the steam explode out of my nose towards the dancing socks and gloves hanging from the ceiling’s dry line, rocked as they were by the incessant shake. I’ll admit that such sight is almost hypnotic. The displacement of air inside from the shaking of the tent’s walls makes the colums of steam dodge erratically right and left in strict harmonic unity as it rises. I stayed in that position, staring at it, for most of the afternoon, making loose and abstract mileage calculations in my head. I am still holding on to the South Pole leg, but the full transcontinental crossing, ending at Hercules Inlet, is beginning to feel compromised. It’s not over until the fat lady sings, but whistling wind outside hints that she may be warming up. We have just about a month left on the expedition, during which to complete around two thousand kilometers, twelve hundred of which could be done in ten to twelve days, given the regularity of the winds in that region. That still does not leave much room for down days. And given how hampered we have been with those, it’s easy for the spirit to feel stirred…if not shaken.

December 25, 2011

S81°30.193 E050°44.931

Elevation 12175 feet

In the dream the owl landed next to me and remained close, its big yellow eyes peering into mine. I was seated and surprised how large a bird it is. More surprising even was our ability to communicate. Eventually, the bird moved closer and I eased it onto my knees. I asked whether he was territorial and roamed around here; and if we could be friends. He said yes. When I asked him what he likes to eat, he responded: “Noodles”…

“They’re here”, I said. Eric was in deep slumber but surprisingly responded in a sleepy voice: “Direction?” “Due North. We’re good to go”, I replied. It was 1:30 in the morning. We had shut down early, but I did not manage to sleep before midnight; it was dead calm, then. I passed out eventually, but kept one eye open for the slightest indication from the winds. After the noodle exchange with the owl, I perked up to the sound of gentle flapping from the tent. The wind was modest, but given the prediction, I stepped outside to check on direction. Already, there was enough to fly the big guns. By the time we cooked dinner, melted water and packed the tent, the wind was blowing snow and building. The cloud ceiling was low, and the temperature at 30C below without wind-chill. By 3:30 we were clipped into our thirteen meters and flying off.

Waiting for a storm keeps you on edge; and riding the head of a storm mixes excitement and anxious energy in the way that gambling probably does. The variables keep you alert and focused. The wind came up fast and strong within our first hour. At 4:30, we switched to our smallest kites, the six meters, which shot up like rockets into the sky. The visibility quickly dropped and within minutes, it was clear that the storm was on us. The gust grew to thirty knots, and the wind-chill temperature dropped to 55C below. Visibility was down to seventy five meters, and we made every effort to kite in close formation; getting separated in these conditions could have serious consequences. Periodically, the sledges would flip–there are getting lighter and, while the terrain is better than it has been, hitting sastrugi from the wrong angle at speed generates enough force to tip it, or flip it, into an abrupt stop. We kept alert of the other’s position at all times, but an hour of riding in this mayhem and we were done. It is stressful, not especially fun, and borderline unsafe. By the time we set up the tent, the storm was strengthening still. And it was cold! Eric–the mad man–started digging an ice cave, but the snow drift, and the cold, ended the project. Meanwhile, I had brought the stove inside the tent and cooked some tea while getting blood back to the extremities. Toe is stable still, so no worries. The temperature inside the tent temporarily rose to a balmy 20C degrees while the storm was raging outside. It was 7AM. We hung our clothes to dry, and buried ourselves inside our sleeping bags for a day slumber.

We only managed 31.8 kilometers, but have broken our first thousand miles for this trip–1616 kilometers to be exact–and, at 96 kilometers from the POI, we are now within striking distance. We’ll make a push in the middle of the night. Right now, at 19:00 hours, the conditions have mellowed to around twenty five knots. We need to capitalize on every opportunity at this stage. Though I have just stepped outside, and the storm has evidently brought cold air with it. It is COLD out there, people!

On this Christmas day, I think of all the loved ones, friends and family. And a special thought goes to those who don’t have any, as well as those forced to spend this time away, including the armed forces stationed overseas. Whatever warm sympathies we can muster from here goes to you. Merry Christmas everybody!

December 24, 2011

S81°22.321 E049°03.220

Elevation 12072 feet

The force of will does not change the weather. It is a fact of life that can be tough to reckon with, in some contexts. And expeditions are one of them. No matter how motivated, prepared and fit you are, natural forces will bend that will into submission, and humble you to surrender. For some, safety weighs in the balance; luckily for us, waiting is the only point of infliction. Suffices to say that Santa will not, by all indications, drop a wrapped and bowed pleasant travel day our way on Christmas day. Marc’s meteorological predictions were not entirely off; but the variabilities did not work in our favor, nor did the timeline. The southerly winds did manifest in the middle of the night, and grew to a strong twenty to twenty five knot average through the day. The fact that blowing snow and visibility would have made this a tough travel day is hardly relevant, since the angle was almost directly into our bearing: straight on headwinds, and unusable. While contemplating whether to tough it out in spite of losing considerable angle ground, I reached out to Marc again for a weather update. “The southerly will fade overnight, but you will get hit by a thirty knot average northerly by midday tomorrow. This will carry on through the night and into the following day. Strong weather! Your best bet will be for the 27th, unless you want to chance it this evening while the wind switches direction and before the build…”. No Christmas carols playing in the background; no boxing day special. Antarctica serves up another one of its house meals. And here I really felt for a schnitzel and a nice salad! Or my mom’s legendary lamb stew! Tough not making miles for the fifth consecutive day! I will keep an ear out for the wind tonight, and if indeed it dies off and turns with enough pop to get us away from here, we will pack in the night and travel until the storm reaches us. We will have plenty of time for sleep recover through the blow. Perhaps the 27th will be our day.

Meanwhile, on a personal front, I want to send a special warm embrace to my soulmate, partner and best friend on the anniversary of our engagement: baby, you are the one!