June 27, 89 37.20'N:71 43.53'W
Day 58. The ice is not sinking, it's simply readjusting its equilibrium to a newly acquired mass (one of us jumping on it) in relation to its buyoancy. Sometimes that new balance is above the water level; sometimes it isn't. Regardless, we have to mentally remind ourselves of this fact: We're not sinking, we're not sinking, we're sinking.
Today, we paddled across seven leads. A few were only 10 meters wide or so, but others were over a quarter mile. There was even a 30-minute paddle with a few portages. We had not planned on coming to the Arctic to do a northern Minnesota-style canoe trip. That's how much water we are seeing.
We are making history every day - the northermost canoe trip ever. Of course, we would prefer to not have that kind of notoriety.
During our planning and preparations, we had set a goal of reaching the North Pole by July 1st. While we are narrowing the gap between us and it daily, it is slow and requires maximum effort. Honestly, with 23.5 nautical miles to go, we don't know if we'll make it by then. Or make it period.
The ice conditions today were borderline insane. This ocean is breaking up underneath us. We repeat, this ocean is breaking up. The day started simply enough; we snaked our way out of the pressure into some flat ice. It was so nice for an hour or so that Lonnie did an enthusiatic 'good ice' dance. The ensuing ice craziness wasn't entirely his fault, but we can not afford any amount of false bravado or jinxes at this point.
The ice is fracturing into small pieces and being blown east or west depending on the wind. The second skier had to enlist some extra hustle today to cross several gaps before they widened. Pressured ice is everywhere. Several frozen monoliths towered upwards of 20 feet.
More Huck Finn rafting, more giant leaps, more slush pools, more small unstable chunk hopping, more big water than ever before. Eric fell in the ocean up to his thighs - a first. Usually, we roll in the snow to soak up extra moisture, but the snow is so melty and wet that it just made the situation worse. He got a bit worried that he would have to take his long underwear off to dry as he has been wearing it for 58 days straight. So, he just 'wore it dry' and his personal record increases daily. We are thinking about putting a warning label on our expedition, "Do not attempt this ever again." We'd send a picture of our camp site tonight, but it would just remind us of the precariousness of our current situation. The ice is just so broken. Instead of one big sheet there are literally hundreds of small pans (10-100 meters in diameter) for as far as we can see.
While we refuse to think about tomorrow before it happens, it is not difficult to predict our fate. On the horizon, water cloud after water cloud after water cloud.
Ironically, we had some good laughs today, too. Not gut busters as we've previously had but fun chuckles. Spend 58 days with anyone and something is bound to tickle your funny bone sooner or later. Today, Lonnie's lean frame due to some serious weight loss was particularly hilarious.
We are trying to reach the North Pole. For so long it has been our ultimate goal. The conditions stink, our skis and snowshoes sink. Once there, we'll see who gets Santa's coal.
Today's picture: We were lucky at one point, finding some nice slabs of ice to bridge across a large messy lead. We switched lead skier/snowshoer every hour today as it is such hard work breaking trail.
Word of the day: tankard - a large beer mug? No explanation necessary.
June 26, 89 28.56'N:69 26.52'W
Day 57. The Arctic Ocean is breaking up underneath us. The fractured slabs of ice we traveled across today made us reassess everything we know (or thought we knew) about sea ice. For us now, all bets are off. We can only take each day as it comes.
Today we paddled across a big lead for 40 minutes straight. That's right, we said 40 minutes - over a mile of open water. At the time, we were probably 35 nautical miles from the Pole. Unbelievable. We are seeing more and more open water than ever before and openly wondered that when (or if) we reach the Pole, it would be by canoe.
Further evidence of a disintegrating Arctic ice sheet: A pair of gulls circled curiously over head for several minutes.
This, of course, also makes us think of polar bears, which could go extinct in our lifetime because of global warming. Polar bears won't be able to survive if their Arctic environment continues to melt down like we are seeing.
The snow was so soft that the lead person had to use snowshoes to break trail. Even with the additional buoyancy, we sink 12 inches or more into the snow. Its good exercise for the legs, as if we need it. Imagine doing the stairmaster for eight or nine hours straight, then add pulling a 200-pound sled-canoe to the mix for the anaerobic phase of your workout. Now do this for several days and you will begin to understand what we are experiencing.
Physically, it is energy-sapping work (Lonnie ate four Clif bars in the first part of the morning). There is no way that we could do this alone. Sharing the work is our only hope. Tomorrow we will go from 1-1/2 hour stints as lead person to 1 hour. The deep heavy snow is just too much for our normal intervals.
These last miles to the Pole are proving to be our hardest. Much harder than we ever imagined. Deep soft snow, maze after maze of leads, and now, pressure ice as big as we have seen since the first few weeks of our journey. Throw in a melt pool cleverly disguised by a layer of snow and you have a recipe for wet feet and slow travel.
That 'good ice' we had been hoping to see for so long does not exist. Our future for the next few days is not difficult to predict. We are no longer inching forward, we are millimetering.
We have eaten breakfast, lunch and dinner together for 57 straight days. Our dirty socks hang in each other's face as they dry in the tent. We get in small disagreements every so often. Lonnie is a morning person; Eric likes evenings. Despite all this, we are still on speaking terms with each other. Better actually. If anything this journey has strengthened our ability to work together, which is good as our survival literally depends on one another.
Once again our MSR snowshoes have proved lifesavers. So much in fact that we're making them our sponsor of the week. Please visit www.oneworldexpedition.com to learn more about MSR and their great snowshoes, which we call four-wheel-drive for our feet.
Today's picture: The sun came out and managed to make the fractured nastiness that we have been traveling across look beautiful and serene. If you look closely, you can see the ice under the water, too!
Word of the day: portent - soft snow, bad ice, omens for the next few days.
June 25, 89 22.32'N:70 40.11'W
Day 56. A few open spots of blue gave way to a full-fledged sunny day. No kidding, after 10 million days traveling under spirit-draining overcast, we had a shiny bright morning. It was nice to see the snow we were skiing on for a change.
It was so bright, in fact, that another full arching rainbow formed directly in front of us. Our pace quickened as we tried to ski underneath the vaulted peak. Unfortunately, the sun didn't last long and the rainbow faded to white then disappeared.
We were left in a complete whiteout. Now that there are fewer and fewer ice chunks to use as reference points, navigating north through this is, and we're saying this in extreme understatement, difficult.
Difficult and stressful, at least, for the lead skier. It is he that has to choose a safe route across fractured ice, avoid pressure ridges and decide when to catamaran. He has to break trail through whatever we encounter. Then, inevitably, attempt some risky move and another one after that for one and a half hours when the shift is over (until the next shift that is).
Meanwhile, the second skier is meandering along in a perfectly groomed and packed ski track. The stress of being in lead is gone. The skiing is slightly less physical. Sometimes, he may even daydream.
Today our thoughts focused on the human condition. You know, the 'why are we here' and 'what are we doing' kind of stuff. Not so much Lonnie and Eric on an Arctic expedition either, but us as humans beings and our responsiblities as such.
We have an incredible ability to manipulate our environment at an unprecedented rate. With that, we must also consider the consequences of our actions. Our existence does not hang in the balance by individual strings; rather our lives are inexorably connected to one another. A warming Arctic, the potential extinction of the polar bear, our consumption of fossil fuels... these are all interrelated.
Other big brain busters today that didn't make the final cut into the trail report but are still worth mentioning: If Clif bars weren't bars but loaves like bread, would we toast slices of them? How much would our Esquif sled-canoes weigh if they were full of bananas? What is the sound of one ski sinking in soft snow? If no one was around would it make still a sound?
Today's picture: Eric using the boat bridge.
Word of the day: vagary - unpredictable change - we have no idea of what to expect ice-wise between here and the Pole. All bets are off.
June 24, 89 13.15'N:70 54.30'W
Day 55. Seals at 89:10.00 north! We have never heard of seals this far north and are wondering if the lack of ice in the south due to global warming is driving them north? Or is it thinner ice in the north with more open areas? Either way, these changes are a stark reminder that we need to act now to stop global warming.
It was another hot summer day on the Arctic Ocean. It has been above freezing for over a week now and we have officially given up on ever skiing on firm snow again. Instead, we will plow our way to the Pole sinking up to our thighs at times. We have adapted to the conditions by implementing a high-stepping ski-tip-lifting stride.
The positive side to all this (yes, there always is a positive side) is the canoe-sleds slide nicely on the ice granules... which is nice compared to the anchor-like glide of earlier days.
Just as we were noticing that the surface of the snow had changed a bit we found ourselves sinking up to our shins in wet slush. There was a large melt water pool hidden just under the snow that nearly gave us soakers. The official melt pool was on an old multi-year floe.
A few lead crossings were straight out of Mark Twain. We used chunks of ice as small rafts to ford several watery gaps. At one point, both Eric and Lonnie were on an ice chunk with the sled-canoes and using ski poles to steer. Later, Eric nearly slid head first into the drink during a similar crossing. His sled-canoe slid forward on the ice changing the balance point.
We had a short discussion about fear and getting through the day at one of our sit breaks. There are points during each day where one of us is either scared or frustrated. The key, we decided, was to always remember that the conditions will change and that these emotions are only temporary. Still, we have to constantly remind ourselves of this fact.
By the last third of the day, we emerged from pressure and fractured ice oblivion into ice like we have never seen - large pans that are really flat (we're serious) with little pressure between them. There are lots of cracks and leads but we have had good luck finding places for boat bridges and other makeshift lead crossing techniques that we have begun to implement.
We are ending our day with a positive outlook for tomorrow's ice, but neither one of us will say our hopes out loud at the risk of upsetting the bad ice gods.
Today's picture - still dealing with pressure, here's Lon giving his sled-canoe the ol' heave-ho.
Word of the day: unctuous - what we are trying to be toward one another after being cooped up together for 55 days.
June 23, 89 05.16'N:70 23.33'W
Day 54. For those of you who don't know us, there is supposedly only seven degrees of separation between you and someone who does. However, right now, there is only one degree of latitude separating us and the North Pole. We can't even begin to express how that makes us feel.
OK, maybe we can a little bit. Yippee, yahoo, awesome! We are so excited, elated, relieved, happy, overjoyed and glad to be here. Helping us celebrate was a seal - that's right, a seal in a lead only a hundred yards from our camp. We can't believe that we are seeing seals this far north.
Our transition to days is now complete. The result of this process: two tired explorers traveling in the same whiteout conditions. Oh well, we have better hopes for tomorrow or the next day or the next.
We spent much of the day in our usual mode. Pull the sled-canoes then paddle the sled-canoes. In fact, today we paddled across some gigantic pieces of water. It seems the closer we get to the pole the more water there is. This fact is disconcerting to us.
The snow is melting fast, too. Days of southerly winds have really changed the conditions. Today, any drifted area was as soft as it's ever been and swallowed skis and legs on several occasions. Snow covered cracks in the ice are also now a danger as we sink deeply in.
The day had a weird 'other-worldly' feel to it. Some of the small flat areas surrounded by older pressure looked like the moon. We whiled away the hours trying to imagine near weightless skiing. We are so far removed from other human life that this journey might as well be on the moon. "Huston this is Hilleberg One. Do you copy?"
There is not a lot of drama to report, so you'll have to tune in tomorrow for another exciting episode of 'As the Explorers Ski'. Will Lonnie cook noodles for dinner? Will Eric wash the dishes with snow or leftover water from the morning's oatmeal? Only time will tell.
Just a reminder that we'll be speaking at Pacuare Lodge in Costa Rica this December. To learn more, please visit www.oneworldexpedition.com or http://www.costaricanatureadventures.com/worldexpedition/ Today's picture: the explorers getting ready for nighty-night.
Word of the day: commodious - a perfect description of the Hilleberg Hotel.
June 22, 88 59.02'N:69 48.05'W
Day 53. All we can do is laugh. When it's another whiteout, the fog is so thick that all we need to do is open our mouth to get a drink, the snow is soft as sugar and no longer supports our weight on skis... These conditions are so over the top and ridiculous that all we can do is laugh at ourselves.
A popular phrase of late: "What were we thinking of when we decided to go to the North Pole in summer?" To which the other replies, "Are we having fun yet?"
The good news is that the snow hasn't been sticking to our skis. So, that's one less problem to deal with. We've got other solutions, too. Our remedy for the bad visibility: We're switching back to traveling days. The fog tends to burn off somewhat around noon and if we can squeeze an hour or two of actually being able to see, we'll take it. Perhaps we can even get a few pictures with some sun in them...although we're not holding our breath on that one.
We hope our non-vampiric schedule will allow us to communicate better with John Huston at base camp in Minnesota, the folks at Greenpeace and press as we zero slowly in on the pole.
We have devised an exciting new sport. We set up the sled-canoes to be catamaraned at a lead, hop on top, then use our paddles to push us down into the water. The ensuing half-second ride and splash rivals any water park feature attraction.
The boat bridge is back in action as well. We haven't had much need for the technique until recently. The procedure is relatively simple: Shove the sled-canoe so that it spans a wide crack then, with skis still on, walk or crawl across. It's loads of fun. Try it if you get a chance.
It was announced today that the leaders of the Senate Energy and Natural Resources Committee, Sens. Bingaman and Domenici, reached an agreement with Sens. Stevens and Kennedy on the threat to Cape Wind in the Coast Guard Reauthorization Bill. They have dropped the Massachusetts gubernatorial veto power for this important clean energy project. Cape Wind is a proposed off-shore wind farm in Massachusetts and an important component of our clean energy future. We are pleased to hear this newest development.
To learn more about how you can support Cape Wind, the proposed wind farm off Long Island and other clean energy projects, click here: http://www.greenpeace.org/usa/capewind
Today's picture: Skiing into nothing. Conditions like these are difficult to navigate in, to say the least. It's almost impossible to see even the horizon line.
Word of the day: agog - eager to reach the pole.
June 21, 88 50.34'N:72 33.15'W
Day 52. At exactly 12:01 am (the middle of our travel day), we stopped forward progress to pay special homage to this day. We wish we could say we were more excited by the first day of summer, but in all honesty, it played out much like all our other days on the Arctic Ocean.
For starters, we haven't seen a sunrise or sunset since arriving in Resolute at the end of April. It's 24 hours of light all day, every day. We often wonder how people function in the dark. Back home in Minnesota, our friends are celebrating this longest day with a huge solstice pageant. Have some extra fun for us.
The weather today wasn't very summery, either. We had a bit of snow in the morning, then a wet fog which turned into the worst whiteout we've had to date. We had to navigate by judging wind direction in relation to our bearing.
Speaking of which, our declination is now 92 degrees west. Which makes traveling north seem a bit odd as the red 'north' end of our Brunton compasses points a few degrees south of west.
We are still having daily battles with pressured ice. A few small lines slowed us down mid-day. Conversely, the morning was all water. We split between two of the largest leads that we've ever seen. The one veering to the west was so vast we couldn't see the opposite side. Both of us had close encounters with ice water as our skis slipped backward while trying to span large cracks.
Realistically, we are excited about this first day of summer. We want our first-ever expedition to be a wake up call to everyone around the world, but especially the United States. We have had to paddle our sled-canoes five different times today. Global warming is real and it's happening now. We are seeing its dramatic effects firsthand.
Since we are a little short on gift wrap, balloons, confetti and other celebratory accutrements, we honored the day by singing several 'summer' songs like: there ain't no cure for the summertime blues, hot town summer in the city, those summer days, California dreaming...
Today's picture: we call it 'thumb in whiteout.'
Word of the day: obstreperous - we're really quiet, we swear.
