How Did It End?

A busy 48 hours... We skied in hazy conditions with a little wind (and snow!) for a bit over four hours, heading Southeast to get around the North end of that four mile long VLF antenna. Everyone was feeling good, and skiing well, although Chuck's blisters were more painful than the day before. The Pole remained coy until very near the end, teasing us with glimpses through the falling snow and fog, until it finally appeared, clear and close (it seemed) a few miles before we actually arrived. At the North end of the VLF antenna (which is now buried under snow, and not visible), was a large yellow sign, lettered in black, welcoming us to the South Pole. It also asked us to please follow only the groomed path the last two nautical miles to the actual Station and the Pole, which we did. ALE has a camping space carved out ("The World's Southernmost Resort") a few hundred yards from the actual Pole. They have a small, but heated, mess tent there. It was fabulous to sit in a real chair again after over a week, in a warm room, eating hot soup - even though we knew we would have to set up our tents to sleep in for one more night in the cold.

After soup, it was back outside for pictures of the Pole. There are actually two Poles, both in front of the new, third, South Pole Research Station (completed in 2008). (The Pole has been continuously occupied since late in 1956, when the U.S. Established a research base there for the International Geophysical Year.) The Ceremonial Pole has the mirrored globe on top of a red and white striped pole, surrounded by flags from all the nations with research bases in Antarctica. That is where most people take their pictures, including us. Nearby is the actual Geographic South Pole, marked by a plainer pole, topped by a round brass monument. Each year the "overwinter team", about forty people left behind for nine months after the last plane out leaves in February, crafts a new, and newly designed, brass marker. Inside the Station they have all of the old monuments, dating back to 1956-7, except for one that was stolen years ago. The glacial ice sheet over the Pole, all two miles thick of it, is actually moving over ten feet a year, carrying the monument (and the entire Station) with it. So, on January 1st each year they dedicate the new monument at the current actual location of the Pole. We missed next year's dedication ceremony by just a few days, but did get pictures at the old monument.

The other thing that many people get very excited about, in this age of instant electronic gratification, is getting their GPS to read exactly 90 Degree South. I only brought a GPS equipped camera, and the best it could do, as I walked all the way around the world, while facing both forwards and then backwards, was 89 Degrees, 59 Minutes, 59 Seconds, which was off by 100'!

After that it was back to the mess tent, where we had a late, but very satisfying celebratory dinner, including some good champagne, before setting up our tents and finally getting to sleep the sleep of the Just: The Just Plain Tired. This morning we had a few hours to relax, before striking camp the final time. We also had to organize our "kit" (gear) for loading onto the BASLER DC-3 for the flight back to Union Glacier. After countless failed attempts to get the team to laugh at any of my jokes, the cleaning up finally gave me a successful opening: Zac told us that in order to avoid a repeat of the "Chicken Curry Episode" from the flight down - when frozen food melted and burst inside our sled bags after the flight crew loaded them on top of the BASLER's cabin heater - we needed to collect all of our human waste bags in one industrial garbage sack for the flight out. I then immediately reminded the group that he had predicted that this moment would come, all the way back at Union Glacier - by the end of the expedition, if we all focused our efforts, we would really have our polar travel s--t together! And so it was.

After a strenuous, but very rewarding effort, we are now en flight back to UG, rich with both experience and memories, not to mention swag from the South Pole Station gift shop...

1 Picture = 1,000 Words

Closing In

It was a beautiful day, with mostly favorable conditions. The sun was out, and the wind behind us, usually. We did have one hour when the clouds rolled in, the sun vanished, and it got up to H4 conditions. It was COLD. I zipped up all of my zips, cinched my hood, and pulled up my Pogies (the neoprene hand covers duct taped to our ski poles) to my elbows. Fortunately, by the time we stopped at the end of the hour, conditions had moderated again. Our stops have also gotten much more efficient - everyone has their system for eating, drinking, and adjusting things down so that we only need 5-10 minutes per stop, instead of 15. This not only means that we can cover ground faster, but we also spend a lot less time sitting around getting cold while someone fiddles with something.

Because it looked, in the morning, like visibility would be poor, we decided to backtrack on Ari's trail from the pole. That way, no one would have to stare at the compass all day to navigate without the sun. Plus, we figured that he would have laid a very efficient track from the Pole. Neither turned out to be strictly true, but we did make another nine nautical miles, and are now less than 7 away from the Pole.

Usually, you can start to see the Station from about 15 miles out,but there was enough fog on the horizon that we never did catch a view. No matter - tomorrow for sure!

David has continued to have problems with his goggles icing up, while my bugaboo has again been beard ice, especially when Zack picks up the pace and I start to breathe more heavily. David also reports that he is convinced that someone has attached sandpaper to the bottom of his sled, which he also asserts will hereafter be referred to as a "man-hauling sledge". There may be a bit of justice to that: Ari says that the toughest snow hauling conditions of their whole trip so far was on the last degree (as well as the six foot tall sastrugi between 88 and 89 Degrees).

When we made camp, Zack held back and took photos (he is also a professional photographer) whole we set up the tents. That too went much more smoothly than even a few days ago. We really do have our systems and routines down. After the tents were up, he did a photo shoot of everyone, icy gear and all.

The day would have been pretty much ideal (at least by Antarctic ski travel standards), except for one disconcerting development: Chuck had been having trouble keeping his hands warm for the last several days, especially at stops. We finally worked out a system with gloves, under mittens, under Pogies, all stuffed with chemical hand warmers. Unfortunately, that may not have been quite in time. Sometime in the last two days he acquired frostbite on his right index finger - the entire tip has now raised a very large blister. It will probably heal okay, but is definitely a forceful reminder that this journey is not an easy pleasure jaunt...

How Empty is Antarctic?

Another good day in the cold. It started off hazy with a headwind - not fun - but then the sun came out and the wind shifted to the East. Zack judges polar weather based on whether or not it is "blowing a Hoolie" (short for Hooligan). I have proposed to him that we refine that into a 1 to 10+ scale (a la the Beaufort scale). An H10 would be a full Hoolie, whereas H10+ would mean "What, are you crazy? Why are you not in your tent?" So far, this trip, the worst we have had to face while skiing is only an H3 on the Hooligan Scale.

Shortly after we started out, Zack said "Keep on straight towards the Pole; I am going to take some pictures of the group." Fortunately, the sun was out by then, so I just navigated by my shadow - kept it 80 degrees to my right. The other trick was to pick a distinctive lump of snow up ahead, then ski towards that, then pick another further ahead on the same bearing. It seemed to go well enough - we were closer to the Pole at the end of the hour than at the beginning.

The rest of the marches were pretty routine - enjoying the "summer" sunshine. The last two of the eight marches the air got a lot colder for some reason, despite the sunshine. David and I had to zip up all of our zippers. We were moving slow, but tired and working hard. I was breathing so hard that my beard achieved epic icing (see the photo). At the end of the day we had made good another nine nautical miles, and are now just fifteen from the Pole (not counting a dogleg we need to make to avoid a very long ULF radio antenna near the South Pole research station. After seeing how hard it is to make nine miles a day, when well fed, rested, and in good condition, it is much easier to understand how, on their return from the Pole, Scott's surviving group could starve to death just eleven miles short of their next food cache...

Shortly after we stopped for the day, we saw someone out on the ice to the South. At first we thought that it was the other sub-team, but as they came closer we saw that it was actual one of the teams trying to traverse the continent - a married French pair of ultra marathoners and their Norwegian "not a guide" accompanist, Ari. I guess chance meetings can happen even in the middle of Antarctica, even with less than 30 people currently traveling on foot. We visited with them for a little while - they took 39 days to reach the Pole, and need to get out in about 32 to catch the last flight of the season. They try not to ski more than 8 hours a day because then they would burn more than the six thousand calories a day that the human body can absorb, leading to very rapid weight loss. Given their very tight time frame, Ari thinks that they will have to ski longer towards the end: "The last 14 days will be mayhem..." We gave them a belated Christmas present - the last chocolate Santa Claus from yesterday that was not yet eaten.

A couple of other quick notes: David and I don't like the hot granola we have every other morning for breakfast (alternating with scrambled eggs with bacon crumbled in). As an alternative breakfast David took a ziplock of frozen cheese into his bag with him last night to thaw. He was lucky that the bag held, because in the morning it was hot goo. Of course he ate it anyway... This evening the capers continued: David was struggling to pull the inner boot out of his size fourteen monsters, and accidentally kicked himself in the crotch, with his own boot that he was holding in his hand! Not to be outdone, I then punched myself in the nose trying to zip closed the tent..

Is Winter Camping a Young Person's Game?

The weather was better today - not much wind, and lots of sun. My black balaclava actually felt warm, on the side that was in the sun. We got up at 8am, our usual time, then stuffed away sleeping bags, air mattresses (thermarests), foam mats, etc., etc. Next we took down all of the things we had hung up on a clothesline running down the center of the tent: inner boots, balaclavas, gloves, goggles, hats - basically anything that gets sweaty or frosty from your breath. Then the mandatory hot drinks to hydrate, and some hot breakfast. Struggle into all of your layers (I won't describe the smell after wearing the same items for several days...) and back out into the cold. Next is packing the sleds (pulks) with all of the aforementioned gear, plus grabbing out some lunch snacks (candy bars, foil packs of chocolate hazelnut butter, energy bars, etc.) and putting them into an inner pocket to keep warm so that they don't break your teeth). Finally, we rolled up the tents and hit the road.

The skiing was a little easier than yesterday, at least for the first seven marches. The last two were really hard. By the ninth I had hit the wall, despite lots of trail snacks, and got into camp fifteen minutes behind the group. Things were not helped by a blister I developed under the ball of my foot. I had tried putting a mole foam donut on it this morning, but that peeled off and the blister got worse. Trying to deal with it on the trail at twenty below, I covered it with duct tape. This had mixed results - it covered the blister fine, and did not peel off, but then the blister extended towards my arch. It is now at least an inch across. I'll have to see what's in the first aid kit to deal with it...

Meanwhile, David is moving at a faster pace, now that he is adjusting to the altitude, but is also remembering why winter camping is "a young man's game". He is otherwise doing well and remains in good spirits. Our tent mate, Chuck, who is older than either of us, is also holding his own, although he too wonders how he did this for six months when he was doing joint winter training exercises in Siberia...

Our current position is 89 degrees, 27 minutes, 57 seconds, so we are just 32 nautical miles from the pole...

All I Want for Christmas is to Get Halfway

Camping on Christmas Day in a Near White Out

Finally a good day! I had been sucking wind, literally and figuratively, the last several days. Not sure how much was altitude, the cold weather, or the snow conditions, but it was pretty hard going (heavy sledding?) and not a lot of fun on the trail. Today was different - I started the day in a very negative mood, worried about my blister and how hard it had been so far. Despite that, all eight marches went really well.

Zack usually set a pace that was only moderately hard, just enough to keep me really warm. The weather was overcast and a bit windy, but it was tailwind, out of the North for a change. Conditions deteriorated from there - not quite a white out, but very flat light, with no possible depth perception, and snow(!). It only snows a few inches a year at the Pole. To navigate, Zack had to rely on a compass mounted in front of his chest - looking down at it the whole time to maintain a constant bearing of 123 magnetic. (The geomagnetic Pole is on the other side of Antarctica, nowhere near the geographic Pole.). Not easy, but the only safe way to proceed.

I had put a super tough and adhesive wound dressing (actually two) on my blister, then wore super slippery vapor barrier liners (basically Teflon lined nylon bags) over my inner socks. The combination of protection and low friction did the trick. My feet felt pretty good all day.

In the end we made 8.9 nautical miles in eight marches. We are now only 24 from the Pole! Crossing the halfway point this morning was a major psychological milestone. A nice Christmas present for everyone. We saw the other sub-team through the snow, and talked with them via sat phone, but in the end failed to link up. They are a bit East of us and at least a mile behind. I sure that we will see them soon, but not for Christmas. We exchanged presents (David and I brought chocolate oranges for everyone to share), ate with Christmas napkins, and listened to holiday music on the portable speaker I had dragged along. Zack even wore a Santa hat. Supper was excellent chili, followed by brownie cake, covered with hot vanilla pudding. Yum! And a good end to the best day so far...

Moving On Down The Road...

Very tough day. Nine marches. Made nine nautical miles towards the Pole. Now at 89 degrees 18 minutes 25 seconds. Not too much wind, but still biting. Super tired, and was the lady one into camp, again.

Did get a birthday cake. Note the craziness of candles inside a tent, forty miles from the South Pole. Also, they were self re-lighting. Susan would approve.

At our current pace, will make the pole about the 28th. Bedtime now.

Are We There Yet? I Have to Go to The Bathroom!

Yesterday was our first full day on the ice. It was a hard day. The weather conditions were still good: above negative 20, with very light wind and some hazy sun. The problem was the altitude. We started out at a pretty brisk pace, and I just couldn't maintain it. By the second hour, I was feeling lightheaded and nauseous. Also, my face mask system was icing up. The Fog eVader does warm up the air a bunch and make breathing easier, but also directs moist air into my ski goggles. After an hour or two, the inside of the lenses was coated in a sheet of ice - I was only able to see out of a narrow slit by my nose. To add insult to injury, the mask literally froze to my beard! When I tried to take it off to eat some trail food, it would only come halfway off... I eventually got it to thaw by pulling up my neck warmer over my mask, so that the mask was inside another layer. Then I switched to my spare goggles that just has a fleece curtain hanging down over my face - not as warm, and the fleece still froze solid from my breathing, but at least I could see out of the goggles.

I was still feeling pretty icky. Finally, in a big blow to my pride, I gave up some weight off of my sled (a ten pound bag of dehydrated food). Lightening the sled, and setting a slower pace seemed to help a lot. By the end of our seventh march I was pretty tired, but not feeling nearly as bad as after our second. The marching itself is pretty straightforward: Ski due South for fifty or fifty-five minutes, then take a ten minute break to eat, drink, adjust clothing, and pee. You need to plan each stop carefully in your head to get everything done in time. As previously mentioned, we are not allowed to leave anything behind, so human waste goes in a bag, if solid, or pee bottle if liquid. It is critical to maintain hydration in the cold, dry, thin air, so those pee bottles fill up fast. Once or twice a day we dig a deep pee hole and pour all the liquid in.

The terrain is a nearly featureless expanse of white in every direction. There are a few sastrugi, and some gentle rolling to the landscape. We are also slowly ascending higher on the ice cap as we head towards the Pole. Every few minutes, we will ski over an area where a weak layer of "hoar ice" has formed below the surface. You can tell, because as you ski over it, the entire area will give out a vey load "WHUMP" and sometimes settle a little under your skis. It was very disconcerting at first, but not otherwise dangerous. There is also very little crevasse danger in the area we are traversing, so it is not necessary to rope the team together in case anyone falls in, unlike travel on most glaciers.

In the end, including a little bit of zig-zagging around sastrugi and as the compass needle wanders, we did about seven nautical miles in a straight line towards the Pole, after skiing about eight. We are now fifty seconds of longitude away, i.e., fifty nautical miles (56.5 statute miles), so there is still quite a lot of slogging to go. Today is my birthday, so hopefully, we can get in some good mileage. I also put on my only pair of clean, fresh from the laundry, wool socks as a birthday present. However, the wind is blowing a bit, making the challenge just a bit higher than yesterday...

How Can You Possibly Sweat at 20 Below?!

We made it to the jump off without any drama. The DC-3 circled a few times to make sure that the landing area looked good, then set down pretty smoothly. There are no markers or other aids on the ground, so it was very much a "visual approach". Since we are, literally, in the middle of nowhere, and the temperature is around minus 20, they kept the right side engine running the whole time the plane was on the ground, while we unloaded, bucket brigade style, from the left hand cargo door. Total time on the ground was only about 15 minutes, then we were left on our own at 88 degrees, 59.76 minutes South of the equator. We sorted our gear, took some quick photos, and got ready to move.

The other sub-team veered a little left of due South, and we veered a little right. Our plan is to try and meet up on Christmas Day for a festive group supper. It will be interesting to see how we will fit all 12 people into a tent designed for four that really only sleeps three comfortably. (We have four of them for the twelve of us.) The usual schedule we are using is 55 minutes of skiing, with a 5 minute break every hour. It is surprisingly hard to get in food, water, and any necessary gear adjustments in just 5 minutes, but the alternative is everyone getting too cold, especially when it is windy. We all keep our big down parkas handy to pull on whenever we stop for just that reason. Today, conditions were pretty ideal: virtually no wind, about minus 17' and clear skies (meaning plenty of sun, which makes a huge difference in how warm it actually feels).

The snow conditions were also pretty good - firm but not hard. The terrain is pretty flat, with just a moderate number of six inch to foot high sastrugi scattered in our path. Unfortunately , it does slope mostly uphill to the Pole, and there is relatively little glide to the snow (it is too cold to create a slippery layer when the sled slides over it). It is more like dragging over very smooth dirt. Still, that is a lot better than dragging tires on Tarmac. Nevertheless, despite my best efforts to pare down my gear load, my sled is pretty heavy, relative to some of the others'. We marched for three hours, taking it pretty slow since we have not yet acclimated to the altitude (9,000', but the air is thin at the poles, so physiologically more like 11,000'). I did pretty well for the first two marches (all of that tire dragging had to be good for something), but really started to flag for that third march, arriving in camp at least a few minutes behind the team.

Not sure what the problem was (not altitude illness, per se) and I feel fine now, but definitely disappointing. One contributor may be that even at minus 18, I still get too hot, even with just one thin layer on on top, plus my shell jacket, unzipped. I felt like I was skiing in a sauna! Even at that temperature, sweat was dripping down my back. Tomorrow, if it is not too windy, I will try skiing without a shell on. Overall, we made about 3.5 miles towards the pole, so only about 66 to go...

Just How Old IS That Plane?

The Team Posing in Front of Our Ride...

We're off! After what eventually turned into a 24 weather delay, conditions have now cleared near the Pole. I am writing this aboard our ride - a DC-3 modified for ski landings with big turboprop engines and an extended fuselage - called a BASLA. Of course the basic DC-3 airframe hasn't been built since the 50's, so the plane is at least 60-70 years old...

The DC-3 does have some advantages over the Twin Otter, however, including a faster cruise speed and longer range. We will only take 3-1/2 hours to get to our expedition starting point near 89 degrees South. The Chinese team in the Twin Otter that took off at the same time as we did will arrive several hours after us, with an extra stop to refuel from a cache near the Thiel Mountains.

Not too much else to report from yesterday. In the afternoon we went o

Why Did I Listen to You?

David Standing on Union Glacier

THIS A RE-POST FROM YESTERDAY AS THE ORIGINAL WAS MIS-SENT

We made it safely to the camp at Union Glacier. The airstrip is about five kilometers from the camp, which is much more sheltered from the wind. (The airstrip is blue ice because the constant wind blowing down the glacial valley scours clean any surface snow.). It is only about ten degrees there, but we were glad to get out of the wind and into camp. At some point before that I asked David what he thought so far, and his reply was "Why did I listen to you?" (But with a smile!)

The camp is a very large operation, with many tents for sleeping, eating, toileting, med care, operations, etc. After a tour of camp, we met with our guide, Zack. He had us out on a 5 km ski right away to stretch our legs. Then we sat in the mess tent after dinner discussing logistics until about 2300. The 24 hour sunshine really messes with your sense of time, although it does also make for convenient "anytime" solar charging of my sat com gear.

Our sub-team is six people formed into two tent groups. They include myself, David, and Zack, plus Sean and Mike (two friends from NYC who started traning for this trip a year ago by hauling sleds last February in Northern Manitoba), and Chuck, a former Army Ranger. The other sub-team includes Omar, the first Egyptian to summit on Everest, and two twins who just finished climbing all Seven Summits when they reached the top of Mt. Vinson this week. I will post this in the morning, since it is after midnight now, and we have a long day in store tomorrow.

Hanging Out

Testing Out the Darth Vader Mask - Twin Otter in the Background

So, reports from teams at 89 and 86 degrees South indicate white-out conditions there at the moment. For some reason, our pilots are reluctant to try and land when it is impossible to tell the difference between the air and the ground. We will call for another report an reassess in a few hours, but at this point it may be at least tomorrow before we are good to go. All three teams waiting to go are hanging out in the mess tent drinking coffee, reading and talking. (David is sitting in a chair with his sunglasses on, sleeping.). I proposed a couple of songs for our team anthem that I played for them on my mini speaker. Both "Everything is Awesome" and "I Want to Move It, Move It" were shot down by Zack, so it looks like we are going with "The Ride of the Valkyries" instead.

The wait also gives me a few minutes to report a few other amusing incidents from the last couple of days: When we first got to Union Glacier, everyone headed to the mess tent for lunch. The leader of another expedition was looking for a team member named Vireole, but what she said to me was "Excuse me, are you virile?" While. I don't always rise to the occasion when given such a perfect straight-line, this time I did okay, responding with "Yes, but we've just met, shouldn't we talk a little first?" When I told this story to Zack, he said "Only in Antarctica can you get this level of service!"

The other thing of note is how hard it is to keep track of all your many pieces of clothing and other gear, especially when you are bundled up and wearing bulky gloves. Even in the tent, though, David and I have spent considerable time tracking down one item or another - thermal underwear, hats, socks, goggle cases, etc., etc. Our conclusion is that before hiking over to the mess tent or rummaging in the pulk (sled) for a second time, you should first look under your butt, since usually we have wound up up finding that we were sitting on the missing item... Based on my experience from many other trips, it takes two or three days to work out a system, but once you do, and everything has an assigned place, this sort of thing happens a lot less often. Here's hoping, anyway.

Update: the latest reports indicate that conditions are still bad near the Pole. We are going on a short excursion to a geological formation called the Elephant's Head. Next weather check is at 1730, with takeoff at 2000 if conditions improve...