December 120, 2011

S81°18.637 E048°17.162

Elevation 12040 feet

Stillness surrounds us. All night the tent was battered again by the lashing winds, shaking, howling and hissing. By morning, however, the silence was deafening. Not a flutter from the tent, nor a whisper in the air. The sun was in hiding as evidenced by the sharp drop in temperature inside, and the absence of the morning blast of light over Eric’s side of the tent. Outside, a fog had overtaken the landscape, shrouding us in a blanket of white. Small crystal were dropping from the sky, but you could hear a pin drop: not a sound and a complete white out. The chill was piercing, and the temperature gage hit below 30C. That is all it took to get back to the warm feathers of the sleeping bag. As the day wore on, the horizon fought to outline itself, slowly defining a band of pale blue hues from the white midst. The sky looked like an abstract minimalist painting. Life imitating art.

Without the sun, it is hard to hide from the cold. Even inside, temperatures were well below zero for most of the day, which made for a good nap day. Eric repeated the effort of fixing the other binding, with the added comfort that the breaks were virtually identical. The fix, therefore, followed the same formula. Let’s hope they both hold.

I lost another nail today. In these boots, and after multiple weeks of riding over really rough terrain, the toes sustain a certain amount of trauma. Some go black; others bruise on top; just about all of them go numb. The feeling will slowly come back over weeks following the expedition. At least that’s how it went after Greenland. But the ongoing promising development is that the frostbite has not expanded or deteriorated for the last week, which conservatively suggests that it will not affect negatively the remainder of the expedition. This is a long shot from contemplations of loss, aborted mission and medivac, which were all discussed only a few days ago! Evidently, an angel is still sitting on my shoulder.

No travel today. The POI playing hard to get. Late in the evening, the sky cleared, and the sun, again, blasted the tent with its warm rays. I have a feeling the storm system of the last few days is behind us. This probably means back to low winds and slow miles. Whatever it takes…
PS. For those who have never seen a frostbite–there it is! It will heal.

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December 19, 2011

S81°18.637 E048°17.162

Elevation 12040 feet

This morning held promise with a steady whistle outside, and a healthy amount of hissing from blowing snow hitting the side of the tent. A visual check outside confirmed that this would be a great day for speed. But by the time we were dressed, packed and ready to go, the wind had strengthened considerably. We chose to wait and see where this was going. Given the last two days, it seemed unlikely that a storm system would still be holding on. And yet, within thirty minutes the conditions were pumping thirty five knots gust, covering the ice with racing snow, and it was clear we were not going anywhere. The sun was in and out of a complex cloud system, and a storm was very much upon us.

We settled in the tent again, had some food and pulled out the chess board. On a long trip like this, our Hilleberg tent is like the third member of the expedition. It will act as home, temporary shelter, and beacon of solace at the end of a long and cold day. It is remarkable how well we adapt and how little we need. One can only marvel at humans’ ability to survive in such a harsh and antagonistic environment. The way a tent is designed and constructed plays a key role in that equation.

By mid afternoon the wind abated enough to make a go of it. At 16:00 our smallest kites, the six meter Access’ launched in the air like a rocket ships. The smaller the kite, the twitchier it gets. Designed for high winds, they cut through the sky at impressive speed, and amidst the blowing snow, propelled us further south.

Within half an hour, however, the wind dropped and we were struggling to make distance. Cloud banks still hugged the horizon, and given the up and down nature of the day we were hesitant to rig up. Still, we put up the thirteen meter Frenzy’s. After an hour averaging at twenty kilometers per hour, it seemed the wind was again suddenly coming down. “Let’s pull up the big gun before we get shut down,” I suggested. It was 18:30, and the temperature was dropping rapidly. The terrain had mellowed out some, and given our broad reach tack and fifteen knot winds, the fourteen meter Yakuza’s would deliver speed and distance. We agreed to go straight to 20:15. Ten minutes into the section, the wind grew again. The up and down nature of the conditions, along with cloud formations is something that we have not experienced for most of the trip, where sun, weaker winds and a clockwork afternoon shut down has been the norm. But today, at 19:00 the wind was steady and strong. The pull and adrenaline was intense. Like speed demons, we flew over the ice and, diving the kite in gusts, we easily reached forty kilometers per hour. The speed rush reminded me of Greenland last year, where we experienced remarkably smooth snow conditions and reached upwards of sixty kilometers per hour. But the terrain out here has limited our chance to move fast–until this evening! I had some concerns over the crack in the sledge, as it bounced and occasionally flew behind me, loyal to the death, like a dog on a leash! But this was the time to make up the mileage we had lost to the morning storm. And close the gap to the POI.

Something remarkable happened during today’s riding, the likes of which we had not experienced thus far. In fact, the first time it happened it pretty much freaked us out! The usual sound of the skis scratching the ice’ surface and the low decibel pounding of the sledge in tow was suddenly, and for a brief moment, over taken by what seemed like a low sounding, but concentrically spreading sonic boom! It felt like a thunder roll surrounded us as we sped through! All we could conclude–and I would love to get confirmation from our friends at the NSIDC in Boulder, Colorado–is that ice crystals below the surface of the ice form large hollow areas that get covered with blowing snow which freezes over. This creates pockets of air. The disturbance of running weight over it, as we speed through, settles the ground which spreads and results in creating that sound. The first time it happened, I thought a jet fighter was flying over head! But realizing that this was no fly path for any plane, I then thought that my hearing was being affected by some internal brain disturbance! Did not sound reassuring! When we shared our experience at the next break, we actually looked forward to encountering these strange but distracting events, with happened again, with different intensity throughout the day.

We’ve had two more mechanical failures today: the other Diamir binding which I have been wearing on Eric’s ski and boot, also broke in the last five minutes of the day. It failed in exactly the same way as the other one, conclusively proving that these are not the right binding for this environment. Given the success–so far–in fixing the other one with line and wire, we have some confidence in getting it to hold, at least until the South Pole, twenty three days from now. Additionally, it seems as though one of my Canon bodies has had it with being jerked around, bouncing all over the sledge. It has finally given up. Thanks to redundancy, I have a back up, but this one will be treated with extra care…

The wind was coming down when we called it a day, but by the time we were settled in the tent, it started howling again! The temperature has dropped down to 35C below again., and last night I was too cold and tired to write this update. We did cover 74 kilometers for the day which brings us to 140 kilometers from the POI. Perhaps two days if we’re lucky!

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December 18, 2011

S81°06.062 E044°11.046

Elevation 11879 feet

It is a function of being out in the cold for weeks at a time and pretty soon, minus 20C feels like a warm day. I remember walking to the North Pole a couple of years back, and after struggling with temperatures of 55C below (65C with wind-chill), breaking up in sweats anytime it got above 25C below. Today, with the sun out and the wind in our back, in minus 20C I was roasting! I wore only two layers–three if you count my Village People mesh top, which is designed specifically to prevent sweat from sticking to the smart wool base layer–and all vents open. Napapijri, who has been my great clothing partner and has made all my expedition outerwear since 2005, has provided us again with some terrific and warm gear for this mission. But even with just the Skidoo jacket, stripped down of the fiber fill (and used only as a wind breaker with fur hood) I was sweating bullets. This had partly to do with flying the thirteen meter Frenzy’s on the downwind tack in some pretty rough sastrugi ridden terrain.

Strong wind battered the tent all night and we were stormed in for most of the day. It looked as though we’d be confined inside again, another day lost, and struggling to find a rhythm that seemed, in the last few days, lost to weather and frostbite tending. The storm that had hit Novo yesterday may well have reached us after all, even if with less force. The morning spectacle displayed all types of cloud systems, and periods of sun backlighting the blowing snow that accumulated large snow banks around the camp. The wind was also defining ominous chunks of sastrugi and further chewing up the landscape that sooner or later we’d have to ride over. But by mid afternoon, the furry was calming down; and by 16:00 we were packing our things, choosing to make a run for it in an attempt to save the day and put in some miles.
We lifted off at 17:00, ready for another wild rodeo. In fact, the wind had delivered a lot of soft snow, and though the ride was athletic–averaging about twenty kilometers per hour– the sastrugi was surprisingly soft on the skis. We even reached a patched of flat terrain, something that we had not seen in over two weeks. It did not last, of course, and soon we were back to bucking over the ice, the sledge popping in and out of the air every time a ramp was unavoidable.

In three hours, we managed 53.63 kilometers, but also rose in altitude. We are now at 11880 feet (3621 meters) and still rising. Most importantly, my toe is still in stable condition, and it appears in the early stage of healing. I am not sure if, and what I might lose from it (perhaps a few millimeters from the crown) but the boot and warmer climate have kept it toasty again today, which is good news. One rib seems to have completely healed, while the other only aches when I sneeze. Who knows: by the end of the trip I may be good as new!
We are now 209 kilometers from the POI. We can practically smell it!

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