From Andrew…
We woke up yesterday morning and walked into a horrific field of sastrugi. The terrain resembled a birthday cake that was recently dropped, a confused mass of tumultuous snow. Consistent 3 and 4 foot climbs, 20 feet apart. The ropes we use to attach ourselves to the sleds are 8 feet long, so one has enough room to climb over the 3 foot high ridges of snow and get back on flat ground, then one pulls up the sled. We wear telemarking skis with skins on the bottom so they pull easier. Still, it’s very difficult to pull up 100 pound sleds. I’d liken it to standing on a hardwood floor in socks, and trying to move forward while someone holds your belt loop from behind. To try and gain traction, one leans more and more forward. Eventually, it looks like you’re trying to crawl on hands and knees, but are prevented by some diabolical force with a harness. Still crawling, we broke loose of the foothills that constituted the 87th degree and stood on the polar plateau, top of the bottom of the world. Relatively little elevation stands between us and our goal, and only 100 miles remain.
The end resembles the beginning. If I flew you over the coast in an airplane, the coast where we started the trip and the plateau, you wouldn’t notice a difference. Still, to us, with over 450 miles of Antarctica travelled beneath our well-beaten feet, some differences emerge. First, the snow is a little different here. The elevation, cooler temperatures, and wind have combined to put a thin layer of soft snow over everything, which makes for slow going.
Second, for the majority of the trip, the wind has come from our 11 o’clock. Now it hits us full in the face. Breath, which previously blew to ones side now clings to ones face, resulting in very funny looking 4 to 6 inch icicles hanging off ones goggles at the end of each day.
Finally, the elevation is affecting everyone. I’ve been told that because we’re at the bottom of the world the rotation of the earth throws the air up into the sky, the way a helicopter’s spinning blades carry it into the air. The barometer on my GPS isn’t deviating from measurements made by satellite, so I’m not sure if this is true. I will say, we all have dry hacking coughs, and are now find things much more difficult.
The next milestone for us is in about 40 miles when we cross the last degree of latitude. Skiing from the last degree is a very popular trip, and all roads lead to the Pole, so things should start getting quite crowded. We’ll be required to carry out our own bio waste during the last 75 miles of the last degree and we aren’t looking forward to it. So we’re quite close. Each team member may, if they let their thoughts wander, gaze into the horizon, and imagine the South Pole ahead of us. Within our minds, the dusty realization that despite having imagined the Pole thousands of times, the actuality of reaching it will be nothing like we imagined. Something about that realization is wonderful.
Thank you for your kind holiday messages. It was very heartening to read them. We’re driving on, and we hope to see very many of you in person soon.
Thanks again. Polar Vision.