I had set a goal of making at least eight nautical miles today. But like everything on the Arctic Ocean, things don't always go as planned.

It actually felt 'warm' while we packed up the tents so I took off one of my Helly Hansen base layers to avoid sweating. Generally speaking, we were just a few light layers then an outer shell. At breaks or setting up camp, we don warm down jackets. However, conditions can change throughout the day and I always make small modifications depending on the environment and how my body is reacting to the environment.

Right away, we got into a fairly large pressure ridge. We took our skis off and put them on sleds, then I punched a winding route through: down a short three foot drop (off the edge of a big ice block) then a dog leg to the left and up through a series of wide cracks and slabs.

A while later, we managed to find our way to a long lead that was frozen solid enough for us to ski down for nearly 500 meters. The difference in the effort it takes to pull out sleds over this type of ice versus the snow covered pans is substantial. I spent the day straining at my harness with nearly every ski stride (with the exception of that 500 meters).

As with most things out here there is a yin and yang that seems to moderate any optimism (or pessimism for that matter). Where there is good ice, bad ice will follow. And where there is bad... you get the idea, right?

A thin ice lead blocked our path an hour later. It was a wide zigzagging crack roughly 5 meters wide. In the middle a black serpentine line - open water. We would have to go around.

While I was tempted to cross, while guiding I find it best to stay away from the more risky maneuvers. Still, it's hard not to not want to go in a straight line. Any veering east or west takes us away from our goal. However, going around obstacles out here is sometimes more efficient than going through and you have to be constantly willing to change your mind when a better (flatter) path appears. Navigate toward the nice (ice) is something I repeat regularly to myself.

Route finding is a confidence game out here. Every moment you are making a choice about where to go. And that choice impacts the next choice and so on and so on... I can think of no other adventure where the actual 'route' is different every time. There is less decision making on a whole Everest climb than one day out here.

A little later in the day, we came across a fairly wide lead - about 20 meters across that was open in the middle. On either side, big blocks hemmed the edge. At one point, this was a pressure ridge but now it had split apart (the worst). I was tempted to go across but, after some scouting, found an ice-choked neck to cross. We relayed the sleds with 'long lines' as the semi frozen ice boulder can easily break free. David found this out the hard way as he plunged his boot through into water.

We are making slow but steady progress dealing with the usual expedition-related maladies. Neil has a quick-on set flu and even threw up yesterday on the trail. David broke his ski pole when falling on a pressure ridge. Despite this, we are making steady progress.

I am excited about an event that we are organizing (although when I say 'we' I really mean Caitlyn, somewhat new Expedition and Operations Director). It's called 'Get Wild to Save Wild' and it's a fundraiser for Colorado-based non profits. Each of the non profits will have a carnival game, there's a series of talks by area notables, a raffle of prints from local photographers and a DJ dance. If you're in Boulder on April, 20th be sure to stop by the Rayback Collective from 3-9. Unfortunately, I will be 'on the ice' and will not be able to attend. My good friend and DJ 'Good Steve' will emcee in my absence.

Because of Neil's flu we had to cut our day short making roughly 7 nautical miles of Northward progress, but any progress out here is good.