We woke up to sunny skies that lasted just long enough for us to eat breakfast and pack up our gear and tents. By the time we were skiing, we once again were ensconced in a total whiteout.

At one break Diogo observed, 'no two days of weather have been the same.'

To which I countered, 'we did have two storm days in a row.'

Yesterday, we had clear blue skies and blazing sun the entire day. For a few shifts, we were all skiing in our base layer t-shirts. Slathered in sunscreen, I mumbled more than once under my breath that it was too hot.

It wasn't cold today, either - around 25 degrees Fahrenheit. But, our systems are based on colder temperatures and as the thermometer nears freezing, it becomes difficult to stay dry. Snow that lands on our jackets, pants or anything else melts. Getting wet out here is dangerous as it is exponentially more difficult to stay warm. I've often said that I much rather prefer 30 below than 30 degrees above zero (Fahrenheit).

To make matters worse, it was a total blizzard for the entire day as well. In fact, the conditions (along with the soft snow) were so terrible that I had to laugh. Times like this are so over the top, they are comical.

For those of you who are unversed in the subtle nuances of your average Greenland whiteout allow me to offer this simple description: everything is white. E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G! The sky is white. The snow is white. The horizon (which you can't see because it's white) is white. It's like being in a room when the lights go off and waiting for your eyes to adjust. But instead of blackness, you see white and your eyes never adjust.

Days like this are hard especially when taken in the context of our bigger adventure. I spent a significant amount of time today (while staring ahead at whiteness) thinking about the reasons why I choose to do difficult things. I could easily find easier less physically demanding pursuits. But I personally think there is value in endeavors that exist significantly outside of your comfort zone. The insights gained aren't glaringly obvious, but they are there. And I carry them with me in other situations. I've always said that there a lot of beautiful lessons to be learned from this type of travel.

I did have a laugh at Dean's expense today. I was skiing behind him as he was breaking trail and, for the first time, I realized that he had written 'Dean' on the back of each of his Baffin boots. Seeing this now, I couldn't help but shout, 'Dean', 'Dean', 'Dean' with every step.

It turns out I was wrong on the Pringles count yesterday. Kat and Diogo both have 3/4 tube. Dean is now in the lead saving his tube for one more day. I opened my last tube last night but only had about 10 chips (I swear).

In the end the whiteout and soft snow got the best of us and we make a little under 10 miles. A troubling number when I had hoped to be making double that mileage...