JULY 11

Dispatch 3
It's snowing!

LOCATION: 88.01N,  41.00E

It's snowing!  White flakes fall from the grey fog and melt on the orange deck  of the Sovetskiy Soyuz.  A passenger asked me "when does it snow on the North Pole?" and I answered "always."  The last three days have been overcast with temps hovering slightly above freezing.  Last night it dropped to 32 degrees and snow started to lightly fall.  This is typically one of the two faces that the summer weather wears in the northern polar area.  It's this dreary, low visibility - almost white-out conditions - that we are presently experiencing. I can watch its effect on the passengers' spirits as they become more and more antsy to reach the Pole.  The other summer polar face is bright, clear, sunny days when optimism soars.  I never take these days for granted for I know at any moment the foggy face might appear and last 3 days, 3 weeks or maybe even a month.

Heavy pack ice still bars our progress.  We are now a little behind schedule and losing ground, or I should say ice, on our expected arrival date at the Pole on July 12th.  The giant Russian icebreaker continually has to reverse its engines and thrust itself forward with all 75,000 horse power on to the stubborn multi-year ice.  Victor's and my little cabin at the bow of the ship constantly shakes and jerks violently. This reminds me of the '60s when one of my forms of summer transportation across the states was freight trains.  Traveling in the boxcars can be a wild bucking-bronco ride like this icebreaker.  Riding the rails across the northern states sometimes seemed as endless as this journey to the Pole. 

My friend Victor and I pass many hours each day with our heads hung over the bow-rail watching the steel hull smash its way north.  We have a mutual love that bonds our friendship - ICE. We figured out the other day that we have spent nearly 600 days together in tents.  Together we have experienced some of the most desperate times in cold and blizzards.  We have partied and sung from our nylon shelters until our candles burned out and we have seen the beauty and felt the awe of this place that we are presently crashing through - a place that keeps drawing us back without the words to explain why.  Victor helped me out with logistics on the Russian 'side' during this expedition.  He helped move my gear - including rifle, bullets, lithium batteries, Coleman fuel, canoe and the likes  - smoothly through Russia and onto the icebreaker in Murmansk.  He then came along for the ride to accompany me to my drop off point at 90 degrees north.  I think it is going to be really hard for him when we separate and he has to get back on the ship.

There are over 15 nationalities of people represented on board.  Quark Expeditions did a fine job in organizing this trip to the Pole. In the evening, when my work is finished, I find it hard to go to bed at a reasonable time because there are so many interesting conversations to join in.  We have a contest on board as to the time of arrival at the Pole.  Here, from the lower half of '88' (degrees), the ones who were initially optimistic are realizing they are going to lose.  In this grey weather, it is typical for optimism to fail and slant towards the pessimistic side.  I almost had to cheer a retired couple up at breakfast who sat, with their heads lowered over their coffees, while muttering something like "when are we going to get there?"  They, of course, live their lives to the clock and schedule.  Here in the Polar regions, the nature of things often run the show.  But soon we will be at 89 degrees N and many times I have seen that even serious people turn into children at 89 degrees on their way to the POLE!

Over and out.

Shake, rattle and roll and when are we going to get there?