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.
Day 13-Styrofoam Snow and Sticky Business
November 18, 2011 10:55 am
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.
Day 14-Some Manner of Cursing and Fickle Winds
November 19, 2011 9:29 am
November 18, 2011
S71°58.811 E011°04.241
Elevation 7111 feet
The morning saw us wake to the familiar white sky, and the sun at the losing end of an uneven struggle with low clouds and light falling snow crystals. Like yesterday, the wind was non existent, and the best bet for the day was to cope a good attitude and welcome the struggle. Within a few minutes of hearing the hissing of the sledges over the Styrofoam snow, this was replaced by some measure of cursing, and various stages of undress from the sweat inducing labor! Hard though I tried to populate my mind with positive thoughts, my brain got sucked in an accelerating blender where not one idea stuck, but rather, all bumped and collided with no rhyme or reason. After a futile attempt at convincing myself that I loved the effort, what came out of me was:”this sucks!”
“Yep,” was what I heard back from Eric!
We took turn taking the lead. Barely noticeable in the distance through the light fog, was what appears to be the last of the mountain range. For two days, I have thought that we would reach this landmark by the end of our day. But given our pace, this now certainly seemed unlikely. In the middle of our second section, I caught a chill; a light breeze developed from the west and instantly cooled me down. It was light, but worth a shot. We changed boots and got dressed. And after a few attempts managed to get the big guns in the air. The Ozone Yakuza’s are powerful handle kites designed for light air; and these 14′s delivered. The wind picked up for a little while and we were cruising. Then it died. Then, minutes later, switched to the opposite direction, out of the east. Then died. Then picked up again, and strengthened enough to generate blowing snow. Eric and I each have one of the small sledges in tow of the big ones, but at the sped we are now traveling, Eric’s is regularly flipping. The sledges are bouncing all over the ice. The wind seems to be increasing still and we choose to down size for safety reasons. By the time we have wrapped the 14′s and released the 13 meter Frenzy’s, the wind had shut off entirely! It was now seven PM and we had finally reached that rocky outcrop, and camped next to it. We had covered 18 km and rose about 610 feet in elevation.
In the evening, we spoke to our friends Dixie and Sam who were flown back to Novo after encountering one meter sastrugi’s and 70 kilometer winds. They were dropped off on the plateau, not close to where we are going, but of course this raises concerns. They are trying to figure what to do from here, and we wish them the best of luck in finding solutions. In parting, they warn us that a three day storm is headed our way…
Day 15–World of ice
November 20, 2011 10:00 am
November 19, 2011
S72°37.719 E010°37.657
Elevation 9497 feet
I looked back, and that was it: they were gone. It happened progressively, as we gained elevation. The last of the peaks had been waging a losing battle against the massive ice cap. These earthy features of snow covered rocks, which had been with us since Novo, and had once stood valiantly in their vertical splendor, had noticeably shrunk as we advanced south. Soon, the last ones–timid hills by the end–were swallowed up without ceremony by the rising ice. Somewhere below our feet were hills and valleys; but they would not reappear for the next forty eight hundred kilometers, on the opposite coast, crushed by over ten thousand feet of frozen crystals. We have entered the pure world of ice.
Ahead, as if to salute our sojourn, three Arctic Terns, small white birds, flew playfully around my kite for a while, most likely curious about the large colorful bird doing figure eight’s in the sky. Eventually, they disappeared in the white sky, and we were alone.
Today felt like the first official day of the expedition. The wind was there from morning to night, temperamental at first, but strong enough to get us up on the plateau, where it grew to twenty five knots, and blowing drift. In the afternoon back light, I looked at Eric, a little downwind from me, and the ice looked like a sea of silver; alive, undulating. The ice is hard–the temps have dipped to 30C below without windchill–and some portions saw nasty sastrugi, and dips over a meter high. The sleds are bouncing and sliding all over the place. Our bearing is a little too much in the south on account of the wind direction, but we should make up for it higher on the plateau where the predominant wind will be from our back.
We covered 72 kilometers today and climbed a remarkable 2390 feet in rise!
Day 16–Stormed In
November 20, 2011 6:02 pm
November 20, 2011
The forecasted storm reached us after all. The strong wind that we caught yesterday was the head of it. We had optimistically hoped that the two hundred kilometers that now separate us from the coast might shield us, but it was not to be. By the middle of the night, the tent was shaking like a rag doll, violently displacing air inside, and it did not let up until mid morning. Around 1 PM, we started packing our things, but all matters of blowing snow and surging gusts had us reconsider; the storm is predicted to last until Tuesday, and erring on the side of caution we chose to avoid finding ourselves building camp in dire conditions. Good thing as we clocked the wind in the afternoon over 55 kilometers per hour, which isn’t so bad (we experienced over 100 km/h on Greenland, and for seven consecutive days!) but too much for a long kiting expedition. Confined to the tent, this turned out to be a rest day, even if loud and on the chilly side. Outside, the spin drift has already half-buried the sledges and is climbing the sides of the tent. The sky is overcast but again the sun puts out a fight to stay in the picture. By late afternoon, it hangs low on the horizon; at this latitude and for this time of year, it no longer sets. The snow drift racing over the sastrugi offers the usual spectacle, like a dance that never gets old. The winds here have been shaping the ice for millions of years and blowing snow has been running over it ever since. If it had a mind, it would no doubt wonder what two individuals are doing stationed in this frigid world. Not a place for a picnic. Hopefully tomorrow will let us move. We have traveled 214 kilometers since starting.
Day 17–Deja Vu
November 21, 2011 6:31 pm
November 21, 2011
We are committed to the tent for the second consecutive day, as the storm rages on outside. This, of course, is reminiscent of Greenland when, after our first day of kiting–following a less tedious but still painful ascent of the glacier–we spent the following seven days pinned down by hurricane strength winds! From inside the relative comfort of our Hilleberg tent, things aren’t as dire. Antarctica’s dry air and the tent’s greenhouse effect bring the indoor temperature to a very moderate 10C degrees or so. This is a well appreciated contrast to the Arctic sea ice, where inside the tent is barely a few degrees warmer than the outside. Here, from 10 AM until about 4 PM, while the sun hovers around its local zenith, indoor life can be relatively civilized. We read, eat, and listen to podcasts or language lessons. The constant flapping of the tent becomes but an after thought, until an unusually strong gust makes enough of an impression for us to look up at each other and nod in appreciation.
Upon stepping outside, however, the fierce conditions are an instant reminder of the respect Antarctica commands. The spin drift flies up to four feet high, shielding the horizon in a blanket of white. In fact, details fade away as if in a fog, reducing visibility to about forty feet. The wind is strong and cold, and it is easy to imagine that frost would literally bite exposed skin in less than a minute. The sun is still visible amidst low clouds, and over head, the sky is partially blue. In the late afternoon, the frozen ground catches the sun’s rays and reflects them as if a mirror. Were it not for the wind-chill temperature plummeting around 60C below, one could easily spend hours watching the natural spectacle of the drift racing over the ice and blowing over the sastrugi, redefining its shapes, as it does endlessly. This is a highly dynamic world, forever mutating and reforming to the whim of its winds. In contrast to its harshness, this is also a timid environment, its beauty shielded by inaccessibility. Even while immersed in it, I can only spend a few minutes taking in the drama before retreating to the safety of our tent. Up here on the ice cap, Antarctica follows a rhythm where life does not figure. It is, quite literally, like entering another world.
By early evening, the sun is out and the winds appear to be pulling back some. The forecast calls for one more day of bad weather, but who knows, perhaps it will be kind to us. We still have a long way to go…
