April 9, 2018
No View - Deep Thoughts
For the first time in as many days as I've been on my solo journey the wind picked up signaling a change in the weather. To date, I've enjoyed ideal conditions - bluebird days with temperatures of...
I'm not exactly sure the temperature as I rarely bring a thermometer on expeditions any more. By my best (and my worst) estimate, it's been relatively mild this past week with day time temperatures in the teens. I was actually glad for the wind. Yesterday, I had gotten too warm on several climbs (a state of being that is easily more uncomfortable than being too cold) so I was hopeful that the wind would cool me off. Unfortunately, the wind brought slightly warmer air, clouds, and eventually light snow and then a whiteout.
Without being able to see much of anything my thoughts turned inward. Of course, with no one else to talk to for the past week my thoughts have already been inward, but nonetheless, they were now more inwardly drawn (if that's even possible).
I've been thinking a lot about Maria and my kids of course. I miss them as usual, but not in an unhealthy way. I am contented here. I wake up, melt snow, eat breakfast, ski, then ski some more, then set up the tent, melt more snow, then eat dinner and go to sleep. It's a simple routine and one that I find satisfying.
And sometimes a little boring, too. But luckily the scenery is beautiful and since I am hardly in dire straits, I have more than enough time to daydream.
I have spent the last couple of days turning the idea of 'why' over and over in my head. Personally, I stopped asking myself that question a long time ago, but in listening to audio books of historical explorers, I can't help but wonder about the driving force that pushes people toward discomfort versus away from it.
I have also been reminiscing about my dad who died this past fall. I miss him a lot now, but also in a good way. His battle with Parkinson's Disease took much of who he was from our family and friends. Now, I can pick out the good memories. At home, we tell our kids about 'things that grandpa liked or did' quite often.
I want to provide context for my kids. So, at times, they better understand their own nature and what part is of their own original design and what has been passed down from one generation to the next.
Listening to one audio book today, I found myself agreeing - out loud - to quotes from Robert Peary about efficiency and details and pushing hard on 'the trail'. 100 years separate in our North Pole pursuits, we have arrived, independently, at similar conclusions.
It's comforting to find a camaraderie with the past. Especially, here in Svalbard of all places - one steeped in a robust history of polar exploration.
By the end of the day, the wind and snow increased and the light flattened. It was a total whiteout. I skied for a half hour before cutting the day short and setting up camp. With 10 miles to go and two days to get back to Longyearbyen, I'm in absolutely no rush.
I'm not exactly sure the temperature as I rarely bring a thermometer on expeditions any more. By my best (and my worst) estimate, it's been relatively mild this past week with day time temperatures in the teens. I was actually glad for the wind. Yesterday, I had gotten too warm on several climbs (a state of being that is easily more uncomfortable than being too cold) so I was hopeful that the wind would cool me off. Unfortunately, the wind brought slightly warmer air, clouds, and eventually light snow and then a whiteout.
Without being able to see much of anything my thoughts turned inward. Of course, with no one else to talk to for the past week my thoughts have already been inward, but nonetheless, they were now more inwardly drawn (if that's even possible).
I've been thinking a lot about Maria and my kids of course. I miss them as usual, but not in an unhealthy way. I am contented here. I wake up, melt snow, eat breakfast, ski, then ski some more, then set up the tent, melt more snow, then eat dinner and go to sleep. It's a simple routine and one that I find satisfying.
And sometimes a little boring, too. But luckily the scenery is beautiful and since I am hardly in dire straits, I have more than enough time to daydream.
I have spent the last couple of days turning the idea of 'why' over and over in my head. Personally, I stopped asking myself that question a long time ago, but in listening to audio books of historical explorers, I can't help but wonder about the driving force that pushes people toward discomfort versus away from it.
I have also been reminiscing about my dad who died this past fall. I miss him a lot now, but also in a good way. His battle with Parkinson's Disease took much of who he was from our family and friends. Now, I can pick out the good memories. At home, we tell our kids about 'things that grandpa liked or did' quite often.
I want to provide context for my kids. So, at times, they better understand their own nature and what part is of their own original design and what has been passed down from one generation to the next.
Listening to one audio book today, I found myself agreeing - out loud - to quotes from Robert Peary about efficiency and details and pushing hard on 'the trail'. 100 years separate in our North Pole pursuits, we have arrived, independently, at similar conclusions.
It's comforting to find a camaraderie with the past. Especially, here in Svalbard of all places - one steeped in a robust history of polar exploration.
By the end of the day, the wind and snow increased and the light flattened. It was a total whiteout. I skied for a half hour before cutting the day short and setting up camp. With 10 miles to go and two days to get back to Longyearbyen, I'm in absolutely no rush.