Skiing to the South Pole in 59 days : Ray & Jenny Jardine

Day 16: Skiing on Frozen Rubble

Nov 26, 2006

My first job after exiting the tent is to dig out the snow skirt, which is buried with snow from the night's deposit of wind-driven spindrift. This is super fine, and once deposited it sets up like concrete. This morning it was three feet deep almost all the way around the tent.

We entered a region of rough terrain, and this went on for most of the day.

This morning's wind was down 10 knots, putting it in the 20 category, so we felt like we were on holiday after yesterday. But our holiday came to a close soon after setting off, when we entered a region of rough terrain. This went on for most of the day, and despite our best efforts we made very slow progress. Some areas of the ice field resembled bombed out rubble that had since frozen.

By late afternoon we had made only 9.3 miles. Then the terrain began flattening out, the wind dropped to 15, our speed picked up, and our enjoyment began to soar again. In fact the terrain flattened out so much that we could see several miles to the south. The way ahead looked inviting.

With me in the lead, singing songs, and Jenny following enthusiastically, we made an additional 1.9 miles.

11.2 sm in 9.25 hours

Day 17: Tracks!

Nov 27, 2006

Excellent day today. Wind less than 10, sky cloudy, a few snow flurries, a bit of flat light. Terrain much more open. Good skiing.

About an hour out, Jenny was in the lead when she found something in the snow. Anything is unusual down here; there are no animals, no birds, no bugs, not even a mosquito. Not even a bacterium. And the chances of finding a meteorite are very slim.

I skied up to her, and saw them too. Tracks! Ski and sled tracks. Talk about an instant change in perspective.

Tracks from a different party.

We knew of other parties out here: Hannah, the two Kiwis, and two British parties consisting of four men each. But we did not expect anyone to be this close. Say a day or three ahead. Must be the British.

We followed the tracks for half a day, just for the novelty.

Enjoying a cookie bar.

Jenny takes a selfie

Asleep under the Greenland quilt. This was the final prototype of the Ray-Way Quilt with two layers of Alpine insulation. At night we used our insulated jackets as pillows.

We skied 14.6 miles in 10 hours.

Day 18: Slogging into Fierce Headwinds

Nov 28, 2006

Slogging into fierce headwinds

Today's weather: 5 octas high cirrus, wind 25 - 35 knots SSW.

Today was another day of slogging into fierce headwinds. 30 knots may not sound like much, but combined with the cold it is one step away from a Jack London short story.

In 30 knots the ground looks like a river of blowing snow. The granules are dense, so they do not rise more than a foot above the ground. In more powerful gusts, the layer of spindrift is so thick you can hardly see your skis.

Skiing in 30 knot headwinds we are bent over forwards, and the sleds feel like they weigh a ton; and of course our speed is very slow. Picture the workout. Now picture it for 9 hours virtually without letup.

However we do pause every 45 minutes or so, to put a high calorie snack in our mouths, to be eaten on the move. Not that we are in a hurry, but if we stop even for 30 seconds, our bodies quit producing heat. On the move we are very warm. The key is to know the rules and play by them to the letter.

For snacks we have a substantial quantity of "Ray's cookie bars" which are something you would not want to eat much of at home without gaining weight. They are made with 2 cans of sweetened condensed milk, 2 sticks of butter, 1 cup of semi-sweet chocolate chips, handfuls of chopped nuts and coconut, and graham cracker crumbs. I plan on patenting the recipe when I get home. Only kidding.

In addition we snack on chunks of Chilean Gouda cheese and sliced dry salami, and small, hard candies by the mouthful.

Evening camp: S 82° 53.436' W 83° 0.798'

Today's mileage: 12.7

Day 19: First Sponge Bath

Nov 29, 2006

We experienced a dehydration attack last night, so we drank our four liters of water which we had melted in preparation for the next day's travel. Then rising early, we melted four more liters to replenish our bottles. And while we were at it, we indulged in a sponge bath, our first of the trip because of the need to conserve fuel. The tent was warm and dry, thanks to the stove and the lesser wind, and the morning felt like a little bit of heaven.

But in Antarctica summer waits for no one, so we packed camp and set off soon after.

With such good weather, today's travel was a joy.

With such good weather, today's travel was a joy. Just to think: no commute, no job even, no bad news on the radio, no cares in the world. Nothing but skiing all day though wide open spaces.

The wind makes the sastrugi and turns it into ice, and because last winter's winds were so boisterous, we think, the terrain is positively covered with them. Of our 19 days here, we have seen only 2 days where the ground was smooth; say, smooth enough to land an airplane, for example. Not to complain, but just to compare this year's conditions with that of the previous years.

At first glance, the viewer might think the terrain is at least somewhat flat. But look at the shadows of Jenny's skis. The left tip is about eighteen inches above the snow, and her right heel is about eight inches above.

The shadows.

Again, the terrain looks somewhat flat. Until you look at the tracks. My skis are hitting only the high spots, and between them are deep ravines. Rough sastrugi makes for slow and difficult skiing.

Jenny has her camera lowered to give a better impression of the roughness of the sastrugi. Note her ski tracks between her skis and sled.

We like to ski on the berms whenever we find one. That's one, just ahead. "Berm" is my term in relation to the snow and sastrugi formation. They are a bit higher than the surrounding terrain and a great deal smother. They tend to peter out after a few hundred yards, and don't run very north and south; so following a berm pushes us somewhat off course. But they sure make life easier. And I think a pilot could land on one, if needed.

Writing one's latitude in the snow is a tradition with polar explorers, whenever crossing a degree of latitude. Or it could be that the tradition started with Jenny. Either way, we crossed 83 degrees South this afternoon, and that leaves us with seven more to go.

This afternoon we crossed 83 degrees South latitude. Each degree is about 69 miles apart.

Home sweet home.

Writing this update.

Evening camp: S 83° 05.202' W 83° 10.738'

Today's mileage: 13.7

Winds: 10 knots SSW; Weather: sunny

Altitude: 4,100 ft., Temperature: -11C

Day 20: Playing in the Junkyard

Nov 30, 2006

This morning's games featured a white out in rugged terrain. The rules were simple: Don't break your neck falling off a sastrugi. For those who lack white out to play in, simply wear a blindfold and pretend you see white instead of black. For those who lack sastrugi, simply go to the junkyard and play there. Any kind of junk will do, as long as it is big enough. The object of this game is to simply get though it.

(I just split my lip laughing so hard. We keep our lips covered all day, but the cold, dry air wreaks serious havoc with the skin.)

The odd thing about a white out is in certain conditions you can see the snow up to 12 to 18 inches away from your sled. This is because the light reflected from the sled is different from ambient light. So when you turn around, you can sometimes see what you ran over or fell off of. My most memorable occasion was when I skied directly into what looked like the head of a giant duck. If I had been either left or right 18 inches I would have missed it entirely. It was a direct hit. I climbed onto the head and skied down the bill and landed with a thud. I turned around to watch my sled glissade off of it. And I could see that indeed I had just run over a duck.

(Jenny: I thought it was interesting that when following Ray directly behind his sled I could see more surface detail. But when leading, looking ahead into the whiteness, I could see nothing.)

The white out is slowly dissipating.

Midday the white out broke up, the sun came out, and we enjoyed a splendid afternoon in just ten knots of wind.

This is what the terrain looks like without the white out. Rugged and covered with sastrugi.

In a white out we can't see the "streets," so have to ski directly over the sastrugi. This gully to the left of the "street" is about two feet deep.

The wind was light and we had become severely dehydrated. We had already drank our four liters of water earlier in the day. So we stopped to melt more. And for expediency we didn't want to pitch the tent; so we toughed it out.

This was our coldest rest stop of the entire trip, waiting for the snow blocks to melt. It sure felt good when we got moving again, but it took us almost an hour to warm back up. We had become deeply chilled, almost to the core. Again, I don't think a person can become hypothermic down here. Anyway, we never felt any effects of hypothermia. Its too cold for that. Instead, the cells of the body just freeze. I think hypothermia and cell freezing are two different things.