April 7, 2016
I Hope You Climb a Tree to See Where You Are!
At some point in the last few months, my son Merritt (who's 3 1/2) has gotten into the habit of using an anecdote in Curious George whenever Maria or I are traveling for more than a day or two.
'I hope you climb a tree to see where you are.' He says at the end of every phone call, skype or recorded video.
Before I left, I tried to explain to him that where I was going, Svalbard and the North Pole, there were no trees and therefore it would be impossible for me to climb a tree to see where I was. I pointed to the world map in his room and showed him Svalbard. Then, I talked about the imaginary 'line' where temperature extremes, sunlight and over all climactic conditions inhibit the growth of trees. It was too much for a toddler so we moved on to marking all the states that Merritt already visited with big 'M's'. For a few minutes after, he asked me about different places and what their names were: Africa, Mongolia, Canada, India... then it was on to something else again. I'm more than happy to spend even thirty seconds talking about these things. Merritt is young and he has lots of time to hopefully experience these things first hand.
I've heard it said that Americans learn geography through conflict. It is not until some crisis occurs that we learn the names and characters and characteristics of a place.
It is hard for a small child to understand how big the world is or why there might be trees in one place or not in another. Where there are mountains. Where there are deserts and where the snow stays on the ground year round. Awareness of our planet and it's diversity is not something that we are born with. It must be learned.
I hope that Merritt inherits a sense of curiosity about our planet. This, I feel, is a fundamental principle in understanding that we are all a small part of a bigger whole and our differences are not a source of conflict but celebration.
For my part, I've always been fascinated by maps - imagining what the lines and forms might look like in real life. One map that I have in my house shows a blank white circle across most of the Arctic with the words: UNKNOWN TERRITORY written across it. The idea of the unknown captivates me and its one of the reasons why I am here. The Arctic Ocean is one of the last great frozen wildernesses left on the planet. There are no roads. There is no land. The surface is constantly changing. Being able to share a little bit of that experience with my clients on a Last Degree Expedition is a privilege and an honor.
Masha and Julie, my two clients have taken the news of the broken runway in stride. The conditions in the Arctic Ocean are some of the most severe on the entire planet and it is impossible to 'control' what happens. While I consider myself an eternal optimist, here realism is the best path forward. Still, with Masha's mission of trying to climb Mt. Everest after this trip, every second counts. So, we distracted ourselves yesterday by Svalbard's stunning beauty 'touring' on snow scooters as snow mobiles are called here.
Meanwhile, there was this update from the Russian team who operates the Barneo 'aerodrome' - the ice runway and small camp used to ferry last degree skiers to their starting point at 89 degrees and tourists to the North Pole.
'The new floe for Barneo is found and it is right near the old one. The new runway is being marked now. Then tractors will open it - and we'll see how hard work it is going to be. At the same time on April 6 in Moscow they will assemble platforms with everything ne?cessary for the work - to be airdropped. The next day the platforms will be in Murmansk. Also there will land the Antonov-74 from Longyearbyen to deliver the rest of the camp equipment also for airdropping. On its way back to Svalbard the plane will take instructors and dog teams for the Russian Airborne Troops' filed management. The camp itself will most probably stay unmoved. The temperature is about -40°F.'
So... we wait another day in Svabard.
Image: A cabin in the 'woods' Svalbard-style.
'I hope you climb a tree to see where you are.' He says at the end of every phone call, skype or recorded video.
Before I left, I tried to explain to him that where I was going, Svalbard and the North Pole, there were no trees and therefore it would be impossible for me to climb a tree to see where I was. I pointed to the world map in his room and showed him Svalbard. Then, I talked about the imaginary 'line' where temperature extremes, sunlight and over all climactic conditions inhibit the growth of trees. It was too much for a toddler so we moved on to marking all the states that Merritt already visited with big 'M's'. For a few minutes after, he asked me about different places and what their names were: Africa, Mongolia, Canada, India... then it was on to something else again. I'm more than happy to spend even thirty seconds talking about these things. Merritt is young and he has lots of time to hopefully experience these things first hand.
I've heard it said that Americans learn geography through conflict. It is not until some crisis occurs that we learn the names and characters and characteristics of a place.
It is hard for a small child to understand how big the world is or why there might be trees in one place or not in another. Where there are mountains. Where there are deserts and where the snow stays on the ground year round. Awareness of our planet and it's diversity is not something that we are born with. It must be learned.
I hope that Merritt inherits a sense of curiosity about our planet. This, I feel, is a fundamental principle in understanding that we are all a small part of a bigger whole and our differences are not a source of conflict but celebration.
For my part, I've always been fascinated by maps - imagining what the lines and forms might look like in real life. One map that I have in my house shows a blank white circle across most of the Arctic with the words: UNKNOWN TERRITORY written across it. The idea of the unknown captivates me and its one of the reasons why I am here. The Arctic Ocean is one of the last great frozen wildernesses left on the planet. There are no roads. There is no land. The surface is constantly changing. Being able to share a little bit of that experience with my clients on a Last Degree Expedition is a privilege and an honor.
Masha and Julie, my two clients have taken the news of the broken runway in stride. The conditions in the Arctic Ocean are some of the most severe on the entire planet and it is impossible to 'control' what happens. While I consider myself an eternal optimist, here realism is the best path forward. Still, with Masha's mission of trying to climb Mt. Everest after this trip, every second counts. So, we distracted ourselves yesterday by Svalbard's stunning beauty 'touring' on snow scooters as snow mobiles are called here.
Meanwhile, there was this update from the Russian team who operates the Barneo 'aerodrome' - the ice runway and small camp used to ferry last degree skiers to their starting point at 89 degrees and tourists to the North Pole.
'The new floe for Barneo is found and it is right near the old one. The new runway is being marked now. Then tractors will open it - and we'll see how hard work it is going to be. At the same time on April 6 in Moscow they will assemble platforms with everything ne?cessary for the work - to be airdropped. The next day the platforms will be in Murmansk. Also there will land the Antonov-74 from Longyearbyen to deliver the rest of the camp equipment also for airdropping. On its way back to Svalbard the plane will take instructors and dog teams for the Russian Airborne Troops' filed management. The camp itself will most probably stay unmoved. The temperature is about -40°F.'
So... we wait another day in Svabard.
Image: A cabin in the 'woods' Svalbard-style.