November 17, 2011

S70°51.212 E010°59.213

Elevation 6580 ft

The sun was hiding behind a white blanket of cloud cover, and a very fine snow was drifting down when we woke. By the time we made it out of the tent, a light fog was obstructing the horizon, and the visibility was mediocre. However, a light breeze was coming from the East, perhaps enough to fly the big guns and point upwind. It was worth a shot, even if to switch boots and unwind the 75 meters of line can be a downer, when it proves futile. With the soft snow, the sledges brought extra drag, and while I managed to get the kite up, moving was laborious, especially upwind. The kite folded a few times before collapsing in a crumpled mess, requiring unclipping, walking the length of the lines, there and back to reset the wing, and giving it another try. Eric, a specialist of light winds was patient with me. This seemed pointless, but for the prospect of hauling instead. By luck, the wind manifested a little, and we were on our way. My ribs were in check with the customized leg straps and Ibuprofen 800’s–felt like a sore lateral muscle. Soon, the wind strengthen some and we were gaining ground. The pull upwind was considerable on the 14 meter Yakuza’s, and required hard and sustained edging with the skis. But the feeling you get from watching the ground fly below your feet after days of pulling is almost magical! Each foot a victory. It was not to last, however. We landed the kites for a short break after an hour, time enough for the wind to drop. The glacier we are presently ascending is squeezed between two mountain ranges, their height noticeably lower as we gain elevation, and the are bottlenecking where we are. This and the foggy weather makes it surprising that we even got some wind to begin with. After an hour of frustrated attempts and unfulfilled promises, we were back to winding the lines, puling the cross country skis and boots out, and switching harnesses… A very fine coating of dry snow would keep falling, while the sun attempted in vain to clear the low clouds. The fresh coating resulted in what we call “styrofoam snow”: the temperature is too low for the snow crystals to bond. The result is snow that sounds and feels like pulling over the plastic foam: it creates extra drag, hampering our progress and speed, not to mention our spirit. In 20C below, we are both in woolen tops, no jacket. The steam instantly turns to white crystals, frosting up the wet wool. The effort is relentless. Sucking on air, a ten foot section can deplete you like a hundred meter sprint. I looked up and saw a white bird–a Tern–barely visible against the white clouds, circling us a few times before disappearing in the white void. Probably an angel, coming down to check on us! After three hours of this, we pack it in. It is 6:30 PM–and tea time. We have managed 15.16 km and 460 feet of elevation. We have traveled almost 125 kilometers since we started, and are two thirds of the way up the glacier. This is painstaking.

November 16, 2011

S71°42.482′ E010°50.749′

Elevation 6183 ft

“This hill won’t climb itself!”, is what I kept repeating myself, time and again, each time I stopped to catch my breath, which happens more or less every couple of minutes. Today was another whopper. The day started with just enough wind to make us believe. So much so that we strapped our ski boots on out of the tent. We just needed to finish the last hundred meters from last night’s hill to see what laid ahead. No sooner had we reached the top, that we switched back to the cross country boots: in front of us sprawled a long valley riddled with crevasses. Seems the path we chose did not, in the end, spare us. We maneuvered carefully, and for a good hour tethered each other: theoretically, at least, if one of us fall through, the other can stop the fall. Or go in with him! In the end the bridges held, even if occasionally one of our poles would go right through and reveal the green void below. By the time we were done playing catch up with our emotions, we faced yet another hill. The air had gotten dead-still, which was unfortunate as the terrain was for once much friendlier to navigate, although as we were soon to find out, the snow at this altitude is getting much softer, and hauling the sledges through soft snow is like dragging them through syrup! No glide, and no breaks. We were moving very slow. But at least the sun was out, and the air still. With this type of effort, you sweat like a convict. And in spite of the minus 15C temperatures, I was topless but for my nylon fishnet top, which, while designed to prevent wet wool from sticking to the skin–giving it a chance to dry–also makes me look like a member of The Village People. Eric wore his pajamas. The views are still arresting as we are framed by two mountain ranges on either side of us. Certainly one of the most scenic landscapes anywhere: long expanse of rolling ice leading to the feet of precipitous peaks. That alone is worth the price of admission. The hills continue their sadistic head game: reaching the top simply means the reveal of the next one. The gods were kind to Sisyphus–they did not send him to Antarctica to haul a heavy sledge! We are halfway up the plateau, and traveled seven kilometers today for about two hundred feet of rise. During my daily sked call with Andrei tonight, we find out that one team–Dietmar and Guhnter–has thrown in the towel on their expedition and are back in Cape Town, while the other–our friends Dixie and Sam–have asked for a pick-up and relocation to another destination… “Don’t give up, Sebastian, you guys are the only expedition left on the ice from Novo!”, he tells me. No chance of that at this point; with or without broken ribs. This hill won’t climb itself! The march goes on.