Diogo found a small dead bird next to his sled this morning. It must have landed on the the red cover, exhausted from being blown from who-knows-where and then died. Alone.

At first, I thought it was a nuthatch because of its rust colored breast and black eye band, but upon a closer look, it was some kind of fly catcher, which specific species I had no idea.

It was a stark (and somewhat tragic) reminder of our tenuous grasp on safety and survival here. That bird and us are in similar situations - both blown way off course to a remote and bleak place. There is nothing to eat here. Nothing to drink. No place to sit or seek shelter. Take away our sleds loaded with gear, fuel and provisions for over three weeks and we would suffer the exact same fate.

And for whatever reason, this is the life that I have chosen, that I am drawn to. The Greenland ice cap, the Arctic Ocean, Antarctica... I have spent nearly my entire adult life searching for something in all this icy desolation. But it is not my home...

My dad would have known what kind of bird that was. As the director of a local nature center where I grew up, he possessed an encyclopedic knowledge of nearly all life - animal or vegetable as well as mineral for that matter. He died last fall and the bird and big wide icy horizon extending in all directions around our camp left me in a reflective mood as we started skiing.

Quite honestly, it's hard not to be reflective in a place like this. I've always said that on an expedition like this you very quickly come up against yourself. Your successes and failures get paraded right in front of you on a daily basis. For my part, I've come to terms with that aspect of polar travel. Of course, that doesn't make missing my dad or Maria and the kids any easier. Little things like a dead bird can set my mind off on tangents of tangents. The lows can be very low at times.

It was calm but nearly whiteout conditions as we set out and it was difficult to distinguish any unique features in the snow. A couple hours later, small holes in the clouds became larger and with the wind at our backs, we were soon skiing in just base layers. It was so warm at one break, I had to take off an extra layer of long underwear pants. I don't like to be too hot and I don't like to be too cold.

We have taken to calling Diogo 'Ali G' as he looks like the Sasha Baren Coehn character. Especially, since on warm days he wears big white noise canceling head phones and yellow tinted glasses. After his shift navigating, he danced and cheered at our progress. We all laughed hysterically.

We are getting to the point in the trip where the topic of food becomes a more frequent (nine days in) conversation point. At one break, Diogo waxed philosophical about our Mountain House freeze dried meals while giving reviews of each one. 'The lasagna,' Diogo observed with a smile, 'has little pieces of cheese hidden inside'.