November 18, 2018
Waiting for Weather
All my bags are packed and I'm ready to go. I spent the day quietly in my hotel room doing office work and downloading podcasts. It's a big white space out there without a lot of scenery, and the last thing I want is to be skiing across Antarctica without 'my tunes'.
Not quite the picture of the epic historic figure you had imagined I'm guessing... wind howling, a Herculean struggle... all while adjusting an earbud!?! Antarctica is a harsh environment for sure, but it's not terra incognita and modern day expeditions are less about geographical firsts and more about pushing personal limits in those places. Still, there are a few out there who will try to tell you that their expedition is a life or death struggle. Just so you know, it's not. It's difficult - no question, but there is a huge difference between heading into the unknown versus the unknown to you.
In 2006, my Expedition Partner, Lonnie Dupre and I were attempting to make the first ever summer expedition to the North Pole. At the time, no one had ever completed (or attempted) a human powered traverse of the Arctic Ocean that late in the season. We spent three years testing, training and developing our own gear (sled-canoes) as there was no one we could call for advice or information. Finally, we were dropped off at Cape Discovery, Ellesmere Island in mid May. As we traveled North, the conditions devolved as summer approached. Less than half way through the expedition, we crossed an imaginary line where fixed wing air craft would not land and outside the range of helicopters as well. I remember that moment vividly. I cried. Of course, I had been crying fairly consistently throughout the entire journey. There was just so much uncertainty and I feared I would never make it out alive. We did make it of course, but there were a lot of close calls.
In thinking about my upcoming expedition to the South Pole, I'm glad my chances of dying are slim to none. In 2006, I wasn't totally green, but I was brash and wanted to prove my abilities. I was willing to push as hard as I could no matter the consequences. Today, I still want to push my limits, but I'm not ready to die to test them. Maybe I'm getting soft in my old age, I don't know. However, I believe it has more to do with my kids than anything else. I don't think what I do is selfish (well... for the most part), but the thought of my kids growing up without a father breaks my heart. And it's not just me being dead that is the sad thing; rather, it would be a tragedy that would define their lives. Of course, this is a privileged internal debate. Too many people in our world are forced into life threatening situations against their will.
I had dinner with a young (26 years old) French Adventurer named Matthieu Tordeur. It was a fun conversation and I marveled at his ability to set his sights on the South Pole and then work toward the goal for several years. I'm excited for his trip and the adventures he will face. At the same age, I quite honestly, was an idiot. Maybe not a total idiot, but there is no way I would have had the knowledge or experience to ski solo to the South Pole. I was living seasonally traveling back and forth between northern Minnesota and Colorado - guiding white water trips in the summer and dog sledding in winter.
Matthieu mentioned that a French explorer Jean - Louis Ã?tienne was his expedition's patron (something that we don't have at all in the states, an expedition patron). Jean - Louis was the co leader of Will Steger's famous 1989 seven month crossing of Antarctica. In my mind, that expedition was true exploration and more similar to Amundsen's first attainment of the South Pole in 1911 than to mine. Steger and his team used a sextant to find their position and had food caches laid out by a small company that charted private flights to Antarctica and would eventually become Antarctic Logistics and Expeditions, the same company that printed out a ticket with my name on it and ask that I limit the size of my carry on.
The extra day in Punta Arenas has allowed important time to finish office work, but my mind has drifted a bit from my goal. I am excited to get to the ice and begin a new challenge... to me.
Image: ALE's IL-76 landing at Union Glacier
Not quite the picture of the epic historic figure you had imagined I'm guessing... wind howling, a Herculean struggle... all while adjusting an earbud!?! Antarctica is a harsh environment for sure, but it's not terra incognita and modern day expeditions are less about geographical firsts and more about pushing personal limits in those places. Still, there are a few out there who will try to tell you that their expedition is a life or death struggle. Just so you know, it's not. It's difficult - no question, but there is a huge difference between heading into the unknown versus the unknown to you.
In 2006, my Expedition Partner, Lonnie Dupre and I were attempting to make the first ever summer expedition to the North Pole. At the time, no one had ever completed (or attempted) a human powered traverse of the Arctic Ocean that late in the season. We spent three years testing, training and developing our own gear (sled-canoes) as there was no one we could call for advice or information. Finally, we were dropped off at Cape Discovery, Ellesmere Island in mid May. As we traveled North, the conditions devolved as summer approached. Less than half way through the expedition, we crossed an imaginary line where fixed wing air craft would not land and outside the range of helicopters as well. I remember that moment vividly. I cried. Of course, I had been crying fairly consistently throughout the entire journey. There was just so much uncertainty and I feared I would never make it out alive. We did make it of course, but there were a lot of close calls.
In thinking about my upcoming expedition to the South Pole, I'm glad my chances of dying are slim to none. In 2006, I wasn't totally green, but I was brash and wanted to prove my abilities. I was willing to push as hard as I could no matter the consequences. Today, I still want to push my limits, but I'm not ready to die to test them. Maybe I'm getting soft in my old age, I don't know. However, I believe it has more to do with my kids than anything else. I don't think what I do is selfish (well... for the most part), but the thought of my kids growing up without a father breaks my heart. And it's not just me being dead that is the sad thing; rather, it would be a tragedy that would define their lives. Of course, this is a privileged internal debate. Too many people in our world are forced into life threatening situations against their will.
I had dinner with a young (26 years old) French Adventurer named Matthieu Tordeur. It was a fun conversation and I marveled at his ability to set his sights on the South Pole and then work toward the goal for several years. I'm excited for his trip and the adventures he will face. At the same age, I quite honestly, was an idiot. Maybe not a total idiot, but there is no way I would have had the knowledge or experience to ski solo to the South Pole. I was living seasonally traveling back and forth between northern Minnesota and Colorado - guiding white water trips in the summer and dog sledding in winter.
Matthieu mentioned that a French explorer Jean - Louis Ã?tienne was his expedition's patron (something that we don't have at all in the states, an expedition patron). Jean - Louis was the co leader of Will Steger's famous 1989 seven month crossing of Antarctica. In my mind, that expedition was true exploration and more similar to Amundsen's first attainment of the South Pole in 1911 than to mine. Steger and his team used a sextant to find their position and had food caches laid out by a small company that charted private flights to Antarctica and would eventually become Antarctic Logistics and Expeditions, the same company that printed out a ticket with my name on it and ask that I limit the size of my carry on.
The extra day in Punta Arenas has allowed important time to finish office work, but my mind has drifted a bit from my goal. I am excited to get to the ice and begin a new challenge... to me.
Image: ALE's IL-76 landing at Union Glacier