Scaling a glacier with 240 pounds in tow, on soft snow feels like a hard labor sentence! But I doubt even prisoners work this hard. The crusty snow periodically breaks underfoot sinking one or two feet. Occasionally, this reveals a river below the ice which is perfect if you like wet feet! We slowly and fastidiously make our way up to the ice sheet, maneuvering carefully inside the crevasse field. Crevasses occur when an ice mass (typically a glacier or ice sheet) collapses as it pours downward. The gravitational pull literally creates cracks in the ice. Mostly, these run from a few feet to thirty or fifty feet. A large crevasse can reach depths of a few hundred feet. Additionally, snow fall or drift can create bridges which will hide the open space below. A good bridge will freeze over and give solid footing. A bad bridge will collapse when crossed. More often, your leg might sink to the hip and give a fright. Needless to say, falling in a crevasse and dragging heavy cargo after you is no one’s idea of a good time! It will kill you.

Luckily, bridges are generally visible for the different features or coloration they display. This provides early warning.
Today, the sky is clear and the sun’s powerful reflection on the glacier is blinding. In spite of the 40F degrees, it takes no time to get toasty while walking up a twenty degree slope in this type of soft snow. It’s a grind!

After six hours, we decide to set up camp. We will soon revert to a night schedule, as the winds then are generally good for kiting. Inside the tent, the sun is baking. It’s feels much like a greenhouse… But a hot soup with a piece of cheese is an easy lay-up for a nap. We will hit the trail again in four hours and travel until AM, beginning the shift in our rhythm. The coastal features are slowly fading in the distance. Soon there will be nothing but sky and ice–and this for about forty days!

But for now, our elevation yields a the commanding view of the surroundings and the vistas are majestic. The iceberg we were maneuvering around yesterday are but white specs on the horizon. This was a grind. But with any luck, we might feel the pull of the kites by tomorrow. And the race will be on!

As I write this, we are in the tent for our first night on the ice!
Woke up early in the ghostly hamlet of Narsarsuaq to finish packing. Yesterday we arranged for a local fisherman to take us to the mouth of the glacier. But word came that there is a lot of ice drifting between the islands which could make this challenging. After a short sleep in the kiddy bunk bed, I finish individual packing of daytime snacks. In all, we each have six kilos of chocolate! And enough candy to give any dentist a coronary! On the trail, that sugar translates to instant fuel. At home, you could just as well rub it on your thighs, ’cause that’s where it would be going!
The boat is waiting for us at noon. We arrange to have our bags shipped to Qaanaaq, some 2300 kilometers away where 45 days from now, with luck on our side, we will make our exit from the ice.

Last minute check, and we load our four sledges–two each, packed with close to 450 pounds of food, clothes and survival gear–into the small open skiff. The powerful engine rips through the glassy waters, speeding past the ice chunks littering the fjord. We stop in Naarsaaq, twenty minutes away, to get the sign off from the local police by presenting our approved application, our insurance and emergency equipment–a personal locator beacon and two iridium satellite phones.
Thirty minutes later, we pull out of the small picturesque harbor into the choppy sea of the bay. The wind picked up and we are getting a taste of its cold bite. The water gets thicker with ice and our driver shows no signs of slowing down, even as his boat gets pummeled by the progressively bigger chunks. We finally slow down, as the outboard is getting seriously manhandled. So much so that we twice end up perched on top of a slab! Pretty soon it is becoming clear that we’ll not get through. The glacier is visible three miles ahead, but there is simply too much ice to make it through. We pull out of this mess and we are told that he will approach it from a different route. This adds two hours to the approach. The wind pierces right to the bone but the water is open and we soon pull into a quiet cove at the mouth of the giant glacier. We unload the sledges, and bid our farewell. As the engine sound fades into the distance, it is now clear that the real adventure begins now! The next stop is on the other side of the continent! Without wasting time we haul our heavy sledges, one at a time, up onto the ice. When the slope softens, we tie both sledges together and begin the laborious task of getting up on the ice sheet. The sun is low on the horizon and we slowly gain ground and elevation.
We walk over the bridge of our first sizeable crevasse, some forty feet deep. After four hours, 2.8 km and 208 meters in elevation, we call it a day. Its is 9:30
PM. We avoided the volcano’s ashes; the baggage capacity scare; the iced out waterways; and six days after leaving Los Angeles, we are finally pulling our cargo across the ice!
Tomorrow will be tense, as we negotiate the crevasse fields. Easy does it. No kiting for the next two days. But the crevasses will keep us focused and alert.

May 9, 2010  Los Angeles/Montreal

The last few days have resembled what can be expected from final preparations on any expedition. The last minute shopping; the triple checking off the lists; the pulling in favors from friends with anything from sowing on sponsor patches (thank you T-Mac!) to running errands (thank you Mikhail!) to transferring powders into space saving bags (thank you Jeremy!) to finalizing bill payments and personal matters inherent to long absences , in this case close to ten weeks away from home…

Finally there is the last stretch which invariably factors staying up all night, meticulously packing each carefully selected item, mindful not to forget–there are no convenience stores on the ice–and not to overpack, since everything will be carried, pushed or dragged and the weight can quickly add up to mostly grunts and curses!

In the early morning, when most items have been checked off the list, comes time to shower, spend a moment with my dog, Guerra, who senses that trouble is afoot: all that packing means another absence. She huddles near my feet hoping against hope that I might pack her with me…!

Jeremy has offered to drive me to the airport, along with Mikhail who has stayed up all night out of sympathy. The three of us–and the dog–head for the airport with comfortable margins for the extra weight–almost two hundred pounds of skis, kites, protein powders, clothes and equipment, camera gear and just about anything to survive unassisted for 40 to 45 days on the ice.

After a nice send off, I lean back in my seat as the plane takes off for Montreal where I will meet Eric for two days of finalizing our lists.This is the first leg of what will take five days just to get to the ice! Greenland is off the beaten path and requires flying to Copenhagen for an overnight connection, followed by a flight, a boat ride and a hike… You get the picture!