July 1, 89 59.59'N
Day 62. At 4 am this morning, Eric froze in his sleeping bag. Not from being cold, but rather to try to discern a noise outside that sounded a lot like footsteps in the soft snow.
There have been many times where both of us have mistaken a random noise as something more formidable than a snow flap blowing in the wind. On a completely calm night, even the thump of your heart beating resonates through the sleeping bag nylon like the steady footfalls of a stalking predator. But this was different than all those other sounds.
This was a polar bear walking a few feet from our tent. A polar bear exactly one mile from the North Pole.
We managed to quickly scare the bear away with a 'bear banger' flare. It wasn't in a big hurry to leave and stopped frequently to sniff the air. By this time, Lonnie had the video camera running and caught a few farewell glances on tape. We hurriedly put our boots on to assess the scene.
The bear had followed our ski tracks into camp. It came from down wind to disguise its scent and used several small drifts to hide behind as it stalked us. Then, it circled slowly around the tent, coming 5 feet from Lonnie's head.
It was not aggressive. It did not damage any equipment. It was 10 feet away on its way back to the lead when Eric first saw it. To us, it seemed more curious than anything else.
We are on fairly young ice. There are hundreds of leads all around. We have seen seals nearly every day for the last week. So, it seems plausible that a polar bear could be in the vicinity.
But 550 miles from land? On the very same day we would eventually attain the North Pole on an expedition whose mission was to protect the polar bear. Apparently so.
Yesterday, we were searching for meaning and not finding it. This morning it walked within 60 inches of us. We find it difficult to not draw a deep significance from this encounter.
Sure, it was just a polar bear doing what polar bears do: living and hunting on sea ice. Maybe it caught our scent from far off and was just curious. Maybe it was looking to assert dominion over its particular range. Maybe it was looking for an easy meal. But may, just maybe, it was a messenger from the rest of its race sent to remind us that the fate of the polar bear lies in all our hands.
We attained the North Pole at 12 noon CST in a moment of, considering our morning, complete anticlimax. We took a few pictures to document the moment, then watched the GPS coordinates scroll south on the screen due to the rapid drift of ice. In a few more minutes, the Pole was completely covered in water.
All of our emotions splayed in a winding trail between here and Ellesmere Island, we stood quietly for a while, then said almost simultaneously, "Well, should we set up the tent?"
Word of the day: stewardship - please draw your own meaning.
June 30, 89 58.59'N:89 40.00'W
Day 61. The ice appeared eggshell thin as the forces of wind and current have recently fractured this area into a maze of pressured ice, leads and small pans. There was so much open water that the scent of warm (almost warm) salt water was constantly in the air.
It was a weird travel day. Overcast, foggy and damp, the terrain revealed itself slowly. We were constantly stumbling through a wall of pressured ice straight into a series of leads. At one point, small slabs were heaved in long curving arcs. In other spots, the north-northeast wind pushed slabs close enough together that we zig-zagged across several large leads.
We crossed roughly 50 or so cracks in the ice that we could span with skis and had to catamaran the sled-canoes seven or eight times to paddle across large leads. Only a few miles from the Pole, we were seeing more open water than either of us would have ever guessed.
Navigation was especially difficult today as well. We stopped to check our declination with the GPS every hour. It is much easier to navigate with a compass; however, the north 'red' end of our compass is slow to setttle. Leaving the tent we adjusted our compasses to 96 degrees west declination. By the end of the day we were at 117 degrees west.
Its difficult to put any more significance to one day versus another; however today, we tried to muster some extra emotion or meaning on this the eve of achieving the previously impossible. But 61 days of having our sled-canoes get stuck on every ice chunk between here and Ellesmere Island, skiing on thin ice, wading through deep snow and worse have left us too weary for introspection.
We are so close to the North Pole right now that if we could stand on top of the Hilleberg Hotel, we could see it - not that it would look any different from the ice and water nearby. So many times we have felt that the Pole is such an arbitrary point. What makes the ice so many miles and struggles away from here more important than the frozen chunk underneath our skis? "Absolutely nothing," crossed our minds more than once.
But we know the North Pole will be different. Each day has been so amazing and unique in its own right. We would have never guessed how much the ice could change in character and personality. The moving ice that nearly killed us, the biggest pressure ridge ever, the ice chunk that looked like Ronald Reagan, the snow drift that was blown to a paper-thin width...these small things we will keep with us forever.
To travel through the world's last great wilderness is a privilege and we feel lucky to be here. On the surface at least, the frozen Arctic seems unspoiled by human hands. It is comforting to know that places like this still exist. Remote and uninhabited. Vast beyond our wildest imaginations. We hope we have tread lightly enough.
The truth is quite the opposite. Even here, we humans have cast our influence whether we intended to or not. The sea ice is melting. Open water surrounds our camp.
Near the end of the day a gull swooped down, and determining we were inedible, flew off. A lone seal lazed on a frozen lead sunning itself in overcast skies. Every so often an ice chunk caught our attention as we passed - like so many other ice chunks have before.
Today's picture: An explorer's view of one of the many leads we paddled across today. Some were fairly small (8 feet); others involved several hundred meters of paddling.
Word of the day: carte blanche - when we are so tired the lead skier makes all route decisions with little argument from position number two.
June 30, 89 51.47'N:74 59.45'W
Day 60. One more step. One more step. One more step. It has become our mantra.
It was a long day - physically very difficult, but mentally a nice break from yesterday as the threat of an icy death seemed slightly less imminent. Still, we finagled a few risky moves to get the ol' adrenaline pumping. Several face plants in the wet snow were especially invigorating as well.
We slogged over 10 hours trying to gain at least a small toe hold on our attainment of the Pole. The snow was the same mashed mess we waded through yesterday and slowed us to a crawl.
At 6 p.m. we took a short break from pulling sled-canoes to call in to the National Snow and Ice Data Center (NSIDC). Kert Davies from Greenpeace facilitated the call. We have been sending the NSIDC, via Kert, our data on snow depth and density and ice freeboard. We were able to answer a few questions from scientists there clarifying our information. We also talked about some of the qualitative observations we've been making on the state of the Arctic ocean. We look forward to continuing our sampling.
The more we know about the condition of snow and ice on the Arctic Ocean right now, the better scientists will be able to predict future change. However, make no mistake, the minimum ice extent (in summer) will be less than last year's record. Global warming is happening now and its first victim will be the polar bear.
Further evidence: We saw three seals today; the last only 11 miles from the north pole.
Word of the day: supercalifragilisticexpealidocious - why not?
June 28, 89 43.14'N:75 18.42'W
Day 59. "For anyone who has wondered how global warming and reduced sea ice will affect polar bears, the answer is simple -- they die," (This is Rick Steiner's quote in the Dec. 14 WSJ article on polar bears in Alaska drowning.)
This expedition has never been about us, rather we are here to help save the polar bear. If you want to save the polar bear from extinction then you have to stop global warming.
We openly wondered again about the state of the Arctic ocean as we stared, mouth agape, at the scene ahead. It was a definite cringe moment: We have to go through that? If there was ever a time on this expedition where we wanted to just give up and go home, this was it.
As far as we could see, small pans (under 100 meters) were stacked up and grinding against each other. Soft brash and ice chunks choked the gaps between each pan, plus the whole mess was moving and moving fast. Returning to one potential crossing point after a scout, we found that it had moved 3 feet in one minute.
This rapid movement of the pans was also loosening large ice chunks. One truck-sized piece heeled over just after Lonnie crossed. There is nothing like imminent danger to stimulate action. We had to get out and get out now. Unfortunately, Eric still had to cross that same spot. Chaos ensued.
Lonnie came back to help, but realized his sled-canoe was being pushed away by heaving brash ice. He went to drag it to safety. Meanwhile, Eric was pulling his sled-canoe up and over a 10-foot ice chunk onto another sloping 10-foot chunk surrounded by brash ice. The canoe stuck fast, then slipped free causing Eric to tumble forward, narrowly missing a face plant in the open lead. Eric's sled-canoe was stuck again, only this time sideways and in danger of getting crushed. Lonnie arrived back on the scene and helped free it, but we weren't in the clear yet.
The next lead with Lonnie just across, two more HUGE chunks dislodge and rocket up. They flip upside down exposing the bluest of blue underbellies. The water is boiling. Where Lonnie just crossed will be impassible in a minute as the moving pan was releasing the pressure holding the brash ice firm. Don't think, just go.
We spent almost an hour racing through all that scary-ness. It seemed like forever. We hope to never have to experience anything like that ever again, but know full well that it's quite possible.
A short ski more and we are on some of the best ice we have ever skied on, with not a lead in sight. We breathed a sigh of relief and then six or seven more.
We have lost a bit of weight due to the work load and long hours. We feel the diet is right on in terms of volume and calories for hauling. Over the course of the expedition, we expected to lose up to 15 pounds and bulked up accordingly. We estimate that Eric has lost perhaps around 10-12 pounds. Lonnie, on the other hand, has lost an estimated 25 pounds. We are guessing since both of us are on the exact same diet (actually Lonnie is eating a bit more) it must be a combination of age and metabolism plus the added fatigue from back strain cutting into the Frenchman's physique.
Today, the additional strain of traveling through snow with the consistency of mashed potatoes pushed us both to our physical limits. However, it was especially hard on Lonnie who 'bonked' near the end of the day.
The good news: Let's see... The good news, good news. News that is good. Hmmm. Oh yeah, it was a beautiful sunny morning for almost two hours.
A funny story: With the warmer days, we are now sleeping head-toe in our tent to give each other some more breathing room. Eric woke disgusted as Lonnie's bare feet were only inches away from his face. The next morning Lonnie asked, "Were you tickling my feet last night?" Needless to say we are reinforcing the boundary between each of our 'halves' of the tent to avoid this particularly unpleasant scenario ever again.
Today's picture: Lonnie looking lean. He finished the day on a combination of sinew and willpower.
Word of the day: hullabaloo - the gulls that flew over were in an uproar about something.
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.
