Les Expéditions polaires Arctiques / Saison Printemps 2006 

 

One World Expedition (Lonnie Dupre & Eric Larsen )

 

Pourquoi ils ont changé leur itinéraire  |  Voyez leur tentative de l'an passé
Extraits de leur site web :  Jours 1 à 39  |  Jours 40 à 66 

May 30, 2006 / It was the best of ice, it was the worst of ice
overcast, 27 F 2.8C, 11.5 nautical miles
And then it was easy, the weight of the sled-canoes nearly vanished behind us, our legs swishing back and forth effortlessly, smooth unimaginably flat ice for a quarter mile. We stretched our arms out bird-like and pretended to fly. But this was the last 20 minutes of the day; there are nine other grueling hours in this story.

'It was the best of ice; it was the worst of ice,' the first line of 'A Tale of Two Pressure Ridges' would most likely read.
Much of the day was spent slowly weaving in and around drifts. The sled-canoes continually yank us off balance as they careen down a slope or slip backwards anchor-like. High stepping to lift ski tips above drifts is an additional burden. There was also a lot of negotiating large slabs of ice with leads in-between. This process is similar to rock climbing in the sense that each path has a crux - stepping onto unstable brash ice as it sinks, heaving a sled-canoe up a steep embankment, balancing on wedged ice while trying to pull.
The experience is as emotional as it is physical. Observe, plan, anticipate, action, relief. Then again a moment later. Observe, plan, anticipate, action, relief. This time add crisis management because you are sinking into the ocean.

Midday we ran into some decent conditions that allowed us to make a few miles - a total of 11.5 nautical miles, our best yet. But at what price? This was one of our hardest days to date. We feel completely fried in both body and mind. Our legs ache.
We are still drifting east. The wind has abated considerably, but the ice continues to move. We seem to be fighting a losing battle with our endless north-northwesting.
We are continuing to collect data on snow depth and density and ice free board for the NSIDC (National Snow and Ice Data Center). Hopefully, this will add to their understanding of how the Arctic ice sheet is melting.
NOAA has predicted an active hurricane season, and is anticipating 10 hurricanes in the North Atlantic this year, of which four to six may become 'major' storms.

May 29, 2006 / Ski Pole Comms
sunny, partly cloudy, windy, 32 F, 9 nautical miles
Unzipping the vestibule this morning, we were greeted by a two-foot wall of snow that had covered the leeward side of the tent, sled-canoes, skis, snowshoes and anything else in the vicinity. The snowdrifts from yesterday's storm also disguised dangerous pockets of open water, thin ice, and slush.
Several times, we both had to catch ourselves with our poles to avoid going headlong into the water. We also managed to fall into many of the innumerable cracks we crossed today as they were completely concealed by the new snow.

A stiff southwest wind is pushing us to the east at a pretty good clip. We tried to counter the drift by traveling northwest today, but with limited success. While we slept last night the storm moved our camp nearly a full degree of longitude east. The wind and sun weathered our faces as we fought for 10 hours earning 9 hard-won nautical miles.

We did run into some good ice today, but we didn't use our normal gesture. When the lead skier gets on a huge flat pan, it's usually ski poles in the air 'raise the roof' style. We have developed other language using our ski poles as well. Waving them back and forth means 'Hey, I'm trying to tell you something.' They are also directionals, like 'This route is horrendous, go more to the left.'
Obviously, our Swix ski poles have other purposes. They help us keep balance, catch us on a slip, test the thickness of ice, push the sled-canoes and many others. Skiing or snowshoeing with these poles makes us as stable as a tripod. They rarely leave our hands during the day.

May 28, 2006 / Blizzard at 86
sunny (1 hour) cloudy, windy, blizzard, 24 F, 6 nautical miles
The day seemed to start off nicely with a bit of sun and high wispy clouds. But like the ice conditions, we know that good weather will be followed by bad - or in our case constant overcast. Today turned into the rawest of raw bone devils (see May 18th entry) that we have had to date.

Our morning progressed fairly easily as we made an 'S' around a large lead and pressure. The wind continued much as it had yesterday, blowing in from the southwest. About a half hour before our first sit down break the wind began to pick up.

We huddled behind a chunk of ice to protect us from the biting wind and spindrift as we snacked on, you guessed it, Clif bars. It was a cold break. However, when we hit the trail again 10 minutes later it was really snowing hard, the wind had increased and visibility decreased. We pressed on.

We haven't reported on it much, but we are drifting quite a bit. Most mornings when we check the GPS, our position is slightly off from the previous night. Usually, we drift south (up to a half mile) and east. Last night, we drifted a couple hundred meters north, but also considerably east as well. This is bad because being too far east near the pole means having to fight the normal movement of ice toward the Greenland Sea. So, we've been traveling north-northwest.
The conditions deteriorated so much over the next hour and a half that we felt it necessary to cut our day short. Visibility was down to nearly zero and the snow was blowing hard. It was possible to keep moving, to what we thought might be forward, but at what cost?

We hurriedly set up camp and tried to keep the snow at bay while we unloaded our tent gear into the Hilleberg Hotel. As you can see, the leeward end of the tent was soon plastered with snow. So, here we sit, in relative comfort while a storm rages outside.
But as we wait, we also know that this strong wind is pushing the ice east. Our fate, for now, is largely out of our control.
Amazingly, we made it to the 86th parallel. We looked for our usual snow bunting scout but it must have taken an early hiatus due to the weather.
Check out www.oneworldexpedition.com to see what our amazing expedition manager, John Huston, is up to. We know he's been busy coordinating our resupply.

May 27, 2006 / Keep North
sunny (1 hour) cloudy, 25 F, 10.6 nautical miles
Rigessure ridges and leads most of the day in low contrast conditions was laborious at best.
It is a bit awkward not knowing a snowdrift is ahead until you are tripping over the incline. We pushed on as best we could for 10 long hours, our longest travel day thus far.
In other unrelated news, the arctic fox seemed to be paired up and wandering near. It was the second set of dual fox tracks we have seen.

We are now traveling almost directly east of the magnetic north pole and have set an 85 degree west declination to our compass. It seems weird to have the red north needle on our compass point to the west. Equally troubling is the amount of time it takes for the needle to settle. It fluctates back and forth for quite a while until we can shoot an accurate bearing toward true north and the top of the world.
It will be Saturday night when most of you read this. Please have a fun and safe Memorial weekend for us. If we were home in Grand Marais, Minn., what would we do? Perhaps an Uffda-za at Sven and Ole's Pizza, then casually mosey over to the Gunflint Tavern for live music and a pint. But alas, the only way for us is to keep north.

The World Conservation Union (IUCN) has moved the polar bear to its Red List of Threatened Species, classifying the species as 'vulnerable' to extinction. Have you added your name to help get the polar bear listed as a threatened species? Thank you very much if you already have.

May 26, 2006 / Time
cloudy, 24 F, 10 nautical miles
When things are going good - we mean really good - do you ever stop and think if something bad might happen in the near future? Today, with our spirits up and the miles ticking effortlessly by, we made a classic blunder and forgot our standard assessment of ice conditons.
Where there's good ice, bad ice is sure to follow. It was heartbreaking to run into bigger leads, rubble and slabbed ice after such a carefree morning. Physically, it is infinitely more difficult to maneuver the sled-canoes through pressured ice. The positive, however, is that time seems to fly by as we wiggle back and forth, all the while straining in our harnesses.

We are also seeing a different type of ice with leads that have long cracks that are fairly defined. One lead, we followed west (it was too frozen to paddle through - a one poker) until we found a spot where it narrowed to four feet and leapt across. Another lead, we catamaraned the sled-canoes and chiseled/paddled our way across. Still another, we hopscotched across slippery ice chunks semi-frozen into brash ice.
After all that it was time to switch lead skiers. It's funny that time can go so slow or so fast. We rely on our watches diligently, but time seems so arbitrary here. We have been out here for 26 days now - a lifetime and a split second. Nearly four years ago, we began planning this adventure, or was it yesterday? Ice and snow, tent time, non-tent time, it all blends into just time, plain and simple. Maybe we need to review our physics. 'It's all relative,' Einstein says.
We will have a new sponsor of the week on Monday. Who you ask? We'll give a hint: We have developed sign language with them.

May 25, 2006 / A Seal?
cloudy, 24 F, 10 nautical miles
We traveled for 9 hours and 45 minutes through the usual ice and snow. We had some larger flat pans, but also some pressure and drifted areas. Whenever there's good ice, we now know, bad is sure to follow.

Still, we got lucky a few times and skied toward the perfect spot to cross several pressure ridges - not exactly flat, but manageable. About mid-day, we spotted a dark shaped object on the ice ahead. It was a large seal sleeping next to a small lead. We tried to sneak up but it saw the the red suits coming, rolled over and dove under the ice and away.
The weather? Still overcast. We forgot what the sun even looks like or if it exists.
We wanted to give a belated Happy Mother's Day to our moms: Judy Larsen and Kate Cartier. We're not sure if this is what they had intended for us when they brought us into the world, but we're trying to make you proud.
The House of Representatives will be voting soon (Thursday, May 24 or Friday, May 25) on a bill that would open up the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge to oil drilling. This is not the path to stopping global warming and saving the polar bears.

May 24, 2006 / Rest Day
cloudy, no wind, 20 F, 0 nautical miles
Last night our bodies were aching and tired. After 23 days on the trail without a full day rest, we decided to move our day off to today. Another day of travel in our current state could easily result in an injury. A unanimous vote confirmed the decision (2-0).

It's hard to describe the excitement we felt at the possibility of spending an ENTIRE day in our small tent. Hotel-like as it may seem, it is still roughly the same floor space as a sheet of plywood, but to us today, it is an infinite oasis of of non-arcticness.
In this tent, lounging around for the first time in 23 days, it seems like we could be anywhere. If we opened the door, would we be surrounded by the trees, lakes and granite cliffs of our home in northern Minnesota? It seemed that possible.
Reading, working on sewing projects, taking naps, eating our Clif bars and salami at random times have reinvigorated our bodies as well as our spirits. The nearly 12 hours of sleep last night has helped as well.

Too soon, we will be clipping into our skis and heading north across this inhospitable (at least to us) terrain. But for now, we have a few more hours to relax, refuel our dwindled energy stores and dream of home and all that awaits upon our return.
Word of the day: conundrum - we're puzzled by the lack of sun, ice pans and whatever craziness might befall us in the next few weeks.

May 23, 2006 / Perspective
cloudy, 24 F, 8 nautical miles
Often when travel becomes really difficult and a clear route through the pressured ice is difficult to find, we unhook from our sled-canoes and climb a nearby chunk of ice. Five or six feet of elevation later, a fairly navigable route usually appears. Perspective.
Yesterday, we were on some of the largest flattest pans we have seen, today some of the smallest. They were pushed into, rafted on top of, or bent against one another creating yet another jumbled mess. We liken our pace in these conditions to a race between a snail and a tortoise.
Still, we made 8 nautical miles - a distance neither of us guessed. Taken day by day our mileages seem insignificant compared to the nearly 1,000 total we have to travel. So we rein in our minds to today, this step, this hour.
Perspective is a funny thing out here: An ice chunk looks huge from afar, distance can be hard to judge, our route, it's all relative to one thing or other. The key for us is to know when to live in the moment and when to take a step back.

We saw a lone trail of fox tracks trotting off to our east... wonder where his big buddy is? Though we have not seen a bear yet, we know they're not far away. There are 23,000 polar bears in the Arctic, a relatively small number considering the vastness of their domain. But as early as 2050 most of them will be gone from lack of sea ice if we do not stop global warming now.
Please click on the 'What You Can Do' section to help protect the polar bear and get them listed as an officially threatened species. Learn what you can do to stop global warming.
Word of the day: pellucid - the sky has not been this for a very, very long time.

May 22, 2006 / Bon Appetit
cloudy, west wind, 24 F, 10 nautical miles
Our days are governed by three basic principles: ice, tent time, and food. We've talked about the first two nearly every day. However, we feel it's now time to give our expedition victuals their time in the lime (no pun intended) light.
To further understand the role of food in our lives, you must add the function of time to the equation. You see, what we eat is directly related to when we eat it. Or is it the other way around? Regardless, each tasty morsel that passes through our lips does so on a fairly specific schedule.

7 am (actually 7 pm since we're traveling at night). Breakfast - oatmeal or rice pudding, washed down with coffee or energy drink.
7:45 - after-breakfast snack: a Clif brand MoJo Bar (Eric)
9:30 - Clif bar (Lonnie) and energy drink at first switch of lead skiers.
11-11:10 - Our sit-down snack time. We throw on our big Wildthings brand Primaloft parkas and eat the following: Clif bar (MoJo preferred) each, peanuts, one piece candy each (Cream Savers are our favorite), energy drink.
12:40 - maybe a piece of candy, maybe energy drink.
2:10-2:20 Our second big coat-wearing sit-down break. Here we get our daily favorite. One stick salami each, Clif bar or a Clif brand Builder bar each and one piece candy each, washed down with a cool gulp or two of energy drink.
3:50 Three cubes each of Clif brand Shot Blocks - they're the energy-packed version of gummi bears.
6:30 - appetizer - we try to save our lunch crackers to eat in the tent. Energy drink.
7:30 dinner - noodles or rice or noodles or rice or more noodles. Once we get our resupply, we will also eat potatoes for dinner as well.
9:00 aperitif - one piece candy , Clif bar (Lonnie)
12 - midnight snack - Clif barGoodbye for now... At least until we EAT again!
Word of the day: surreal - much of the icescape that we travel across is bizarre in the sense that it seems like we are in a series of valleys and divides - hard to explain but very dream-like considering our circumstances.

May 21, 2006 / Rainbows and '85'
sunny, cloudy, south west wind 20 F, 8 nautical miles
The day began with clear blue skies this morning, but after two hours it was gone. We have not had a full sunny day in a week and a half. It was difficult to get out of the sleeping bag this morning as we were still tired from the previous hard day.
It will be even harder after today since the kitchen ran out of coffee - at least for the one team member who drinks coffee (to remain unnamed).
The only natural colors we see up here are white, blue and gray. So it was especially nice to be greeted by a huge full arching Rainbow. We could even see the pot of gold just beyond a distant pressure ridge.
The ice was fairly broken up and we crossed countless pressure ridges and leads throughout the day. A snowbunting visited our camp, perhaps the same one who was patrolling '84' - a timely coincidence, since we have just crossed into 85 degrees north latitude. It is nice to know there is other life out here when we seem to be the only things breathing in this remote part of the globe.

Honestly, it's hard to imagine anything being able to live and survive out here. The truly amazing fact, of course, is that polar bears do (and quite well, as long as there is sea ice). April 2006 has been the warmest April on record. The warming trends due to global warming could be disastrous to the fate of the polar bear if you don't act now. If you haven't already, make sure you take some time to help save polar bears. Help get the polar bear listed as a threatened species.

May 20, 2006 / Mud and Ice Mayhem
We know that you have been running around on the stuff for quite some time, but for us the experience of seeing solid ground is not quite so commonplace in all this snow, ice and water. OK, so it wasn't exactly bona fide terra firma, but it was as close as we are going to get in the next two months.

About an hour into our day, we discovered a small patch (12') of mud, just sitting there on the ice. The edges of our little dirt pile were somewhat dried up and very earthy-looking. We tried to pick up a piece but the whole works was frozen solid. We wondered out loud where this had come from. Siberia perhaps. Other theories include magic, a polar bear or, most plausible, Santa Claus must have dropped a piece here on his way north to help remind us of Minnesota.
The rest of the day was a mix of back-breaking hauling through pressured ice and weaving in and around older drfted pressure. We whiled away the better part of an hour clawing our way through some smaller pans (100' -100 yards) that had rafted into each other.
For another one-hour stretch, we skied through a cold misty haze toward one small blue block of ice on the horizon. From all that nothingness, we emerged into another area of severe pressure.
The nature of the ice has been different these past few days. We are seeing smaller pans of thicker ice rafted into each other. Our hope is to be out of this soon.

May 19, 2006 / Skiing in the Rain
7.5 nautical miles
We began our day with a nice rain that coated our glasses with a thin film of ice, making it even more troublesome finding definition in the no-contrast landscape. The cheery conditions had us singing, 'skiing in the rain, we're skiing in the rain, what a not quite so glorious feeling...'

Around midday we crossed a series of very thin leads (2 pokers) that nearly had us in the drink. The ice was so thin that a wave is formed on the ice just in front and behind our skis as we shuffle fast and wide-legged to distribute our weight. To stop mid-stream would mean a cold swim at best; at worst, well, we don't like think about it.
Several years ago a Japanese polar explorer died on the Arctic Ocean because, having fallen through the ice, he couldn't get out. His body was found frozen in the ice some time later. Of course, he was also traveling alone; we have several well-tested rescue strategies for such circumstances.
A few minutes after we swore we would never put ourselves in that kind of predicament again, we came upon another lead with a similar type of thin ice. We crossed without a second thought. All told we crossed four of these scary leads.
You might think we would just paddle our boats across all these leads. While we have catamaraned the sled-canoes a few times, most of the leads have been either covered in ice too thick to paddle through and too thin to ski on, or the open water sections stretch in the wrong direction. For now, it is usually easier to find a way around.
We made a monumental life-changing decision today: To listen to our mp3 players while we skied. Perhaps better men than us would just grit their teeth and bear it. But for us, staring at white nothingness has its limits and it appears to be about 18 days. Traveling with our own personal Arctic sound tracks today, the time flew by and in no time, it seemed, it was 'tent time'.
Word of the day: convoluted - our route, the ice, everything about this expedition is stacked up in crazy ways.

May 18, 2006 / Trail Jargon
We woke up this morning, ate breakfast, packed up our gear, strapped on our Granite Gear harnesses, clipped into our Asnes skis and made our way north. Along the way, we went over some pressured ice, skied on a few flat pans, had our feet get wet breaking through thin ice and veered north west for nine and a half hours.

Today, while exciting and new with every step, was much like every other day for us. Therefore in lieu of today's blow by blow happenings, we thought we'd provide you with some of our daily lexicon. Think of the following as a vocabulary builder for the Arctic traveler.
Snowshoes - a question or a statement used to explain (or ask) that the ice is now too rough to travel with skis and we need to stop, take off our skis and put on snowshoes.

Skis - a question or a statement used to explain (or ask) that the ice is now smooth enough to travel with skis and we need to stop, take off our snowshoes and put on skis.
Lead - a crack or gap in the ice, can be covered in thin ice, filled with chunks of ice, completely open water or any combination of all ice/snow presentations.
Two Poker - ice in a lead that is too thin to cross so we have to ski around. It takes two pokes with a ski pole before the tip breaks through to water.
Take a Peek - climb up on a pressure ridge to scout the route ahead; usually involves unhooking from your sled-canoe. This is also a good opportunity for the second person to sit on his boat and contemplate life's great questions (i.e.; rest).
See you on the flip side - what the lead skier says to the second skier as he starts his 1.5 hour shift up front. Sometimes, we won't be close enough to talk for the entire time.
Tent - the Hilleberg Hotel, usually referred to with great reverence. Also used in the phrase 'tent time.' For example, it's three hours until tent time (end of the day).
What time is it? Even though we both travel with watches, usually the lead skier is the only one concerned about time. Therefore, the second skier usually asks: What time is it?
North North West - the direction we keep traveling to avoid easterly drift.
Raw Boned Devil - a description of the day's weather. A day labeled as such is most likely cold, windy, overcast with whiteout conditions.
In other more important news, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service re-opened the public comment period on the polar bear Endangered Species Act listing; the agency is taking comments from now THROUGH JUNE 16. Click on the 'What You Can Do' section at the top of this page to learn more about how you can help save the polar bear.
Word of the day: Vagrant - even though the Hotel Hilleberg is quite homely, it is only a temporary shelter. We move every day.

May 16, 2006 / frida
Which would you prefer: mind-numbing travel on a flat pan, the physical strain of powering over pressure ridges, or the emotional stress of negotiating fractured ice and leads? Having a hard time deciding? Don't worry, we'll give you all three.

Don't get us wrong: Our journey is not all hardship and pain, but each day seems to bring a different problem that we have to work through. Our vote, by the way, would be for flat ice.
Today started on an incredibly flat pan of ice. We whooped and hollered at our luck. The nautical miles cruised by effortlessly for almost three hours. We spotted two dark cigar-shaped clouds in the distance (these form above leads and generally mean lots of open water) and tried to veer in between them.

At first we seemed to have missed most of the fractured jumbled mess we'd been expecting, but then we entered an area of slabbed pressured ice, then some flatter drifty areas, then several bigger leads and pressure...ad infinitum.
Later in the afternoon we had a great stroke of luck as we just missed an area of huge thick slabbed pressure to the east. All we had to do was cross one small gap and we were out of the worst of it.
It was truly incredible to ski along five-foot-thick ice blocks shaped in hundreds of different angles, the larger ones appearing blue. In some places ice piled up to almost 20 feet! There is a subtle beauty in much of the Arctic Ocean, but this ridge was just the opposite, still starkly simple, but awe-inspiring as well.
Now we are in the tent celebrating the fact that tomorrow is a half day of rest and we get to sleep in. Bye for now; noodles beckon to be eaten.
Word of the day: invigorated - what we hope to be after our half day rest.

May 14, 2006 / It's Worse
cloudy foggy, 15 F, 5.5 nautical miles
We were roused from a deep sleep sometime last night to find the skies had cleared and it was clear blue all the way to the horizon. We gave each other groggy high fives then snuggled back in our sleeping bags. Little did we know that the upcoming day's travels would yield the worst weather we've seen to date.
Once out of the tent, we realized that, while clear, it was really cold with a stiff wind still driving from north. Regardless, it was nice to able to see the terrain for a change. That lasted for almost two hours.

The sky darkened and an ominous fog rolled in. Soon, it was nearly a whiteout, but this time dampness permeated everything. We were chilled to the bone and skied along face down trying to hide as much exposed skin as possible behind our hoods. At one point, we even thought we could taste salt in the air.
Eventually, we found the source of all this foulness: a huge wide open lead - and a million smaller leads.
We got lucky and were able to skirt the biggest lead, but had to catamaran the boats to cross a second, then weave back and forth for almost two hours to get through all the fractured ice. At one point, we had to leap across a four foot gap. It was hard work, scary at times, and every other emotion as well.
Finally out of that jumbled mess, we ended the day just as it started, in an old pressured area with lots of drifts and the sun shining.
On a more serious note, we heard that a proposal to build the biggest offshore wind farm in the nation won approval from Texas state officials. That's great news to us, but also reminds us of other projects like Cape Wind that need to be approved.
Word of the day - robot. We are machine-like contraptions covering our daily miles.

May 13, 2006 / More white out
overcast , 20 F, 5.75 nautical miles
This has been our fourth day of white-out conditions. If we only had the sun. Our spirlts would improve as well as our ability to see where we are going. To make matters worse, a brisk north wind froze our faces.

If you want to experience a bit of the Arctic Ocean wherever you are, here are a few suggestions to make your daily life more like the North Pole. First, find a blank sheet of white paper. Next, hold it in front of your face - about three inches. Now try walking, grocery shopping, whatever. It's like your own personal whiteout. Here's another fun one: Take 8 hours out of your day to stand under the fan in a commercial walk-in freezer of your choice.
Seriously, Lonnie had a scary thing happen today. His ankle froze up. After several attempts to move it through stretching, he managed to get it working again. What a relief.
Still we are managing to press on despite all this. Sincerely, two very tired boys.
Word of the day: postponed (we weren't going to make this the word of the day, just mention that we were postponing it until tomorrow, but now it's our word of the day).

May 11, 2006 / Daydream
Squeak, slide, squeak, slide, squeak, slide.
It is a rhythm that under good skiing conditions is the beat of our daily life. On a bad day, it is the only thought running through our minds over and over and over. One step, squeak, next step slide, then squeak, ad infinitum. Minutes tick by unnervingly slowly in between breaks. That's a bad, bad day.

On a good day, our minds wander effortlessly like a feather on a lilting summer breeze. Staring into the snow for hours on end, new thoughts drift in and out. We can ponder an idea for 20 minutes and not even know it. Our daydreams bring us happiness, comfort and usually a smile. They remind us of who we are and where we've been. They connect our past with future and fantasy with reality.
Out here on this huge sheet of ice, we live in our minds.

May 09, 2006 / Cheese Saves the Day
Sunny, 9 F If we could only start every day like today: a 9:30 wake up, casual breakfast in ... sleeping bag, and a 12:45 canoe-sled time. Sound relaxing? Well, it was - more than you can possibly imagine. We were so incredibly tired after a relentless week of arctic toil that it was all we could do to just set up the tent last night.

We considered today a double vacation day because, one, we got to sleep in, and two, we had to drag canoe-sleds over the Arctic Ocean for only four hours.

Once harnessed up, part II of our 'rest' day was everything but restful. The reason for the hard going was a wide swath of multi-year pressure ice scattered haphazardly across the ice. Behind, in front, to the side, below, just beyond, around (and every other preposition in the book) each ice chunk was a huge snowdrift. Some were hard packed, others soft. We had to haul our sleds up one side and then they would come crashing down wrenching our backs on the other if we were not careful. It was either get pulled backwards by the weight of the sleds on the way up or get run over on the way down.

Navigating through this mess was tedious, spirit draining, energy sapping work. We felt a bit shafted being dealt such a raw deal on this of all days. After two hours it was break time. We didn't know if we could go on.

Then, like a manna from heaven, a small bag of WISCONSIN cheese curds was produced. Suddenly the day didn't look so bad. Instead of just crackers, we were having CHEESE and crackers. It was such a small thing, but one that helped us make it through the day.
All in all we are doing better then anticipated and our spirits are high. Our half day slog yielded nearly 5 nautical miles or 10 kilometers or 6.2 statute miles.
Word of the sday: precarious - today found us both in dangerous spots in the heavily drifted terrain.

April 30, 2006 / Taxi
Partly sunny 8 F The expedition got off to an inauspicious start today as we experienced a slight role shift. With nearly 70 Spaniards needing to get to the airport, we became, of all things, taxi drivers.

They say adventures come in all shapes and sizes, and driving a van full of Spanish tourists singing their national anthem (judging by the volume and fervor of their efforts) will not be long forgotten. But it was a means to an end: our equipment and boats were at a cargo warehouse near the airport.

With the safe arrival of our gear came other welcome news: there is a possibility of a 2 pm departure for northern Ellesemere Island and our take off. The information was rude awakening to our small group. We have to get packed and ready to go by Monday morning. Needless to say, we got to work immediately. Rationing fuel, a final gear check, putting greenpeace stickers... our small room is a flurry of expedition preparation.

We are ready to go, but our experience tells us to check our excitement. The 'Ice Warriors' waited eight days for good flying conditions. This is the north where anything can change anytime. The ice, the snow. Even explorers: arctic travelers one minute, taxi drivers the next.