The sounds of heavy breathing, of skis scratching the ice below our feet,
and the occasional whistle of the wind on our face are the faithful
companions of our solitary sojourn. From morning until evening, hardly
a word is exchanged. When I lead, I will occasionally check for Keith’s
shadow near my feet, as the sun is mostly behind us, and low on the
horizon. I will stop when the words ”fuel!” or ”drink!” are shouted
behind me. When Keith leads, my eyes are primarily focused on the
tracks directly in front of me, and I lose myself in introspective
contemplation, and spiritual meditation. I will recite for hours on end
the Guru Rimpoche mantra and watch how my focus sways this way or that.
When the time comes, I too will shout for a food or drink stop. We
hurry through those, catch our breath and set off quickly again before
the sweat on our bodies turn to ice on our skin. As each day rolls into
the next, there are no signs of life to break the quiet sanctitude of
our journey. Not a bird; not a bug; no plane high above in the sky. The
feeling of solitude in this white stillness could, for some, scream
louder than despair. But mostly I immerse myself in complete communion
with the ice, and feel at one with it–one in thirty million species
inhabiting this Earth; no more, no less. And I get lost in the unique
privilege of finding myself here, nourishing my soul with the pure and
raw power of Nature.
But today we did see signs of life! In close
proximity were one set of fox tracks (what would a fox choose to do at
this latitude where there is no food for hundred of square miles?
Certainly an eccentric); and soon thereafter a set of bear tracks–a
mother and two cubs. (Also probably confused, unless of course she was
looking for us!) Today being my birthday, and with plenty of thinking
time on my hands, I got lost in examining the nature of choices. And
got to think of the men and women who chose to live temporarily in
Eureka. The last bastion of civility before heading for the ice, Eureka
is a station battered by the merciless lashings of the Great North. The
vehicles that make it there know that they have reached the end of the
line, and are resolved to finish here without ceremony.The men who
drive them have stern faces shaped by their pioneering spirit. As with
the frontier towns of the past, people here are lured by opportunity.
But as the lines on their faces deepen, they all seem to soften
internally, moved by the power of this harsh desert and surprised by
the answers that come to them from questions they had not sought to
ask. Eventually, it would seem, everyone is forced to ponder the same
question. “Who am I, and why am I here?” In the white, stark vastness of
the Great North, answers come easier because there aren’t as many
places to hide.

We traveled 10.3 nautical miles today, in 9 hours.
Some nice big open pans but also some clumps of rubble– one the size
of a three story house!–which slowed us down. Many freshly frozen
leads to cross and much warmer temps at around -27 F degrees. That is a
15 degrees increase from a few days ago: today, we were sweating–no
joke!
Our current stats are N86°05.316 and W76°37.365. Thank you for
the many birthday well wishers. It means a lot to hear this kind of
support out here. Keith brought some Irish whiskey for the occasion.
This one’s for you!

Well today was a good day! Temps were a little kinder than in the beginning, hovering around minus 30 F degrees. But most importantly we hit 10 nautical miles true north in spite a new rubble fields which pestered our progress. Ten had been my average target and one necessary in order for us to exit the pole through the temporary floating Russian station Barneo, one degree south of the pole. Barneo closes on April 27th, so the race is on! We hit our groove today and charged for most of the day’s 9 hours of travel time, which still got us two film breaks. A point on filming or photographing here: all cold environments are challenging to shoot in. I use custom built batteries and silicon cables to deal with the extreme conditions. (A regular cable will simply wilter and snap from the cold). But out here, each opportunity to shoot has to be measured against 1) the time to stop, open the sled and set the gear up 2) the cold that sets in from stopping 3) the time needed without a glove or with minimum hand layer which set deep painful numbing and potential frosbite. Not to mention dealing with something which invariably goes wrong with gear that isn’t really intended to be optimized in – 40. Consequently, shooting is extremely challenging, and made all the more frustrating for the fact that there are quite literally 100’s of shots daily that cannot be captured but to memory. That is the secret of the Arctic winter ice. An icy Carmen, luring like the seductive temptress, but treacherously poisonous to the image greedy. A visual Shangrila meant mostly to be commited to the eye’s memory. That said–we did catch some good sequences, in light of a personal documentary I am shooting of this adventure. More on that later.
Our current position is N85°55.037 and W76°41.076. Most likely tomorrow will we complete our first full degree (or 60 nautical miles)! We are feeling cautiously optimistic, in spite of the 70% failure rate for the pole. Wish us luck!
Good night.

85.6495N, 076.8635W

Frostbite is essentially like a burn, but in opposite. The body
secretes a pocket of liquid to protect itself, which is essentially a
blister. With frostbites, it is recommended to stay away from the cold
until it heals. Sounds straight forward enough. Right. But what if you
can’t get away from the cold? Then a frostbite needs to be carefully
shielded to prevent that pocket of fluid from freezing again and again.
Lest the wound goes deeper into the flesh and spells trouble. By now,
both Keith and I have a number of frostbite–his toes, my fingers. This
is certainly not uncommon when traveling regions that men have no
business spending any amount of time in. But those nips have to be
carefully monitored or the risk could be loss. The one that I am
presently monitoring is–appropriately enough–my right hand middle
index finger. One which has seen–I’ll admit it–some good service,
particularly while behind the wheel of a moving vehicle.
We started late today as a wind from the south was shaking the
tent all night. We felt no rush in getting beat up by the elements and
were slow out of the tent. Also I think today is Sunday and on that
day, we felt, we too could rest. Some. On the trail the wind was mostly
in our back but was painful when it lashed our faces. Consequently, we
were hooded up and not in great conversational moods. Stops are cold so
we minimize them, mainly to catch our breath, eat and drink something
quickly and get moving again. ”You ok?” ”Good.” is about the extent
of our dialogue other than the occasional expletive not aimed at anyone
in particular but just at how tough this really is. Like Sisyphus and
his rock, we pull our heavy sledges across this uneven icy landscape,
one step after the next, occasionally cursing our decision to be here
in the first place! Other time, the zen associated with the simplicity
of the action is enough to create a temporary moment of sheer bliss.
Err, temporary… Luckily today’s terrain was mainly open pans of
relatively flat ice. Three hours in, however we came across our first
open lead, and with it came the black color of the Arctic ocean, which
of course is constantly below our feet, some 5.5 feet or so. The lead
was running East/west, or squarely in our way. It was a complex system
of cracks in the ice generated by the awesome power of currents and
winds, and after following its banks for a while, we finally found a
crossing point. We hurried as the environment was rapidly changing and
the lead widening. A couple of hours later, we came upon another
freshly re-frozen lead, too wide and too fragile to cross over, we
decide to camp near it, and let it solidify over night. Today, we broke
one pole, lost two pole baskets, and the buckle of my harness snapped.
Some fixing to do tonight then, but not too long as we have been burn
ing too much fuel, which is an easy thing to want to do, believe me!
Our position this evening is N85°38.959 W76°52.321. We traveled from
12:30 until 6:30 and covered about five miles. Temperatures were
between -34 and 40F. The wind made this feel like -50 or more. This was
another tough day. But this will change… We keep heading north!