December 5, 2011

S77°22.351 E021°38.508

Elevation 11278 feet

Short of our walking days, today was perhaps our personal worse for distance. It’s not that the will isn’t there; it is becoming alarming how weak the wind is up here. And this has all the makings of jeopardizing our plan to reach the–aptly named– Pole of Inaccessibility in the time delays necessary. In spite of an early rise, the wind (from the North, still) was very weak. We set off on a day which, if time was not of the essence, would have likely been a forced rest day for the conditions. I can’t decide whether this is pig headed stubbornness; wild and naïve optimism; or a desperate case for perseverance. Suffices to say that our projected daily average is lagging like a ship taking water. In the first two hours we barely managed 13 kilometers. By the end of our second section, the wind had dropped to 2.1 meters per second; barely enough to pull the sledges. Often, and for a few moments, we would simply stall–not able to move at all while the sledge butted against a piece of sastrugi. By mid afternoon, following what is clearly the trend, the wind shut off completely.

If I had one recommendation for future expeditions looking for a good time kiting on Antarctica: set your bearing elsewhere! These are not fun days–with or without music. There are hard working days with little results to show for. What’s more, we are imposed short hours from the wind. Walking and hauling up here is hardly an option, as the elevation robs a good amount of oxygen from each breath. We spend time sucking on air after each extraneous effort. And as the terrain alternates between rough ice and soft snow, and as the sledges are still very heavy, that option offers little prospects: we would barely cover a kilometer before packing it. In the next few days, I will be forced to evaluate whether to set our bearing to 90 degrees South–the South Pole. Unless stronger winds manifest, and fast, the POI could elude us yet.

And now for the numbers: we traveled 28 kilometers today. We have covered 852 kilometers so far and are 790 kilometers from Novo, as the crow flies. 828 kilometers separate us from the POI… But still, we hope!

December 4, 2011

S77°09.648 E021°01.660

Elevation 11272 feet (3436 meters)

Today marks a month that we have been on the ice, and one third of the mission. Progressively, we have adjusted to the harsh environment. Early November in this part of Antarctica is cold, and at the altitude we are traveling, even colder. The first two weeks are a shock to the system. Humans are not wired to live with limited resources in environments where the average temperature is minus 30C without wind-chill, and the only element outside of air is ice. For the last two weeks, there have been no birds flying overhead, nor will there be until the final week of the trip. No contrails in the sky; no people; no organisms of any sort. In short, nothing to anchor a familiar reality around you as a reminder that you are not alone. The fact is–you are alone! Within millions of square miles. While many uncertainties prevail for the remainder of this trip, the mental threshold of doubt, insecurity, and fear of failure is behind us. There is nothing quite like the ice to make you doubt yourself, and expose your vulnerabilities. It humbles you, and perhaps that, too, is one purpose for such a mission. A stop when the winds whip up means a rapid cool down of the system. Eating commandeers blood away from the extremities and to the stomach to process that new energy. It typically means that hands get cold and sensation is lost to the fingers. Facial systems freeze while off for eating and becomes challenging to set back on; when it does, frost seizes the face. The combined effect can be disorienting, and to some extent paralyzing. Feet are often cold, and all is left is the will to push you forward, for another round. There is no vanity. Just the stark reality that you, and you alone are holding the reins of your life in hand, and to let go carries meaningful consequences. In the course of the last few weeks, I have often questioned what I am doing here. Though I remember contemplating the same on prior expeditions, it did not help; I thought perhaps this time was the one: too big, too old, and under qualified. In reality, most of the challenge takes place inside you head. That is where the battle is waged. With good preparation, and good equipment, eighty percent of the trip is mental. And if you can get past the initial hump, what is left are the two laws of perseverance. Law number one: take one step forward. Law number two: continue walking. If you cannot continue, refer back to law number one…

The northeasterly wind was so marginal this morning, that it seems as though today was a forced rest day. I woke up at 6:30, and this time decided to let Eric sleep. By mid morning, the situation had not changed but we decided to give it a shot. The kites barely lifted off the ground and as we crawled forward, no amount of music could speed up the two hour sections. There were times when we moved so slow, it might have been faster to walk. I chose to accept it; as always: you cannot get mad at the weather! In the middle of our second section, the wind simply died. We were in the tent by 15:30. Outside the air was still, and the sun in full glory. Without wind, the 20C below actually felt pleasant–all things being relative–and I went for a stroll. This confirms that for where we are, and unless a system develops, the best travel is early morning. Brrrr! We barely managed 34.5 kilometers today but we did have the afternoon off!

December 3, 2011

S76°54.777 E020°11.778

Elevation 11274 feet

If one measure of friendship is at the very least knowing your friend’s name, close behind should be the ability to spell it properly. In yesterday’s blog, I misspelled my fiend DJ Isaiah’s name. Mind you, when parents pick Isaiah for a name, they commit their son to a life of being asked: “How do you spell that”?, by post office clerks and administration officials. No excuse, really, but it did get me thinking. Sorry about that, brother Martin. Now, would you like some stamps with that? (Please note: I went ahead and fixed that typo for Sebastian…knowing that he would have, had he been in any other circumstance, noticed that mistake immediately.-Jessica)

Last night, about an hour after falling asleep, I woke up from a vicious case of burning eyes, so much so that I felt like crawling up the tent’s walls. I rubbed then, closed them, opened them and rubbed them again–nothing was helping. It felt like dozens of paper cuts right on the eye. I kited for about one hour without eye protection yesterday. As we know, the chlorofluorocarbons (CFC’s) which used to be found in aerosols and refrigeration devices, have depleted the ozone, particularly in Antarctica. The ozone, among other things, is a filter of Ultra Violet rays (UV’s) which are harmful to the skin and the eyes. Omitting to wear eye protection essentially created a temporary sun burn of the retina, called snow blindness. Some antibiotic eye drops and a sleeping pill a by morning, the pain was mostly gone but I saw everything through a white haze. Not ideal when maneuvering in a white environment. It was as if seeing life through fogged lenses, which robbed all details from the ice’s surface. Less than ideal as the wind was pretty good in the morning and our cruising speed for the first two hours netted us 35 kilometers. The terrain seems to arbitrarily shift from quite smooth to rough and sastrugi ridden. I am not sure why, but that is a good question for our friends at the National Snow and Ice Data Center (NSIDC) in Boulder, Colorado. Half an hour into our second period, Eric took a nasty fall which resulted in a broken binding. The consequences could be crushing as he does not carry a spare. My frustration was partly directed at myself for not imposing the same binding system as mine for redundancy, after he insisted on carrying a different system. I carry a spare. On an expedition like this, streamlining the variables is critical. However, I will give him credit for McGuivng a fix with wires and a strap, after we set up the tent for about two hours. How long it will last, especially when the winds picks up and the terrain worsens remains to be seen. We probably won’t know until after the South Pole. For now, this remains mostly his inconvenience, on top a a nasty altitude cough that has been with him for about a week.

By the time we hit the trail again, the wind had pulled back and predictably died by 17:00, as usual. We did manage an acceptable 77.32 kilometers total for the day. Chipping away at it.