Stealth Expedition
For some reason or another, I always think about mowing the lawn when I am on a trip. I so much look forward to mowing the lawn in my bare feet, with the birds singing around me, a beer on the porch and Dylan singing about Rainbow Trout. When I finally get home, I can never stand to mow the lawn.
Excerpts from Eirik Sønneland and Rolf Bae's account of wintering at Norway's Troll Station and then skiing across Antarctica. These deranged, hardcore, and unassuming expeditioners are looking for a publisher for an English translation of their book. Eirik can be contacted at: esonne(AT)student(DOT)umb(DOT)no
The trip really began now, Saturday the 21st of October, 2000. Five years of talk, daydreaming, planning, and intense work was now to be crowned by a three month ski trip. In the sled lay ninety-five days worth of food, and everything needed for self sufficiency and survival. Two friends on a long journey, with as little contact as possible with the outside world.
2200 kilometers to the Pole, and another 1600 to McMurdo. It is like starting from Central Park, and following the highway towards Chicago with a 170kg sled behind you. Every 15 or 20 miles, you make camp. Week in, week out, you do the same, every day. It is not just the enormous distances you have to tackle; there is bad weather, extreme cold, and a climb up to 3000m onto the polar plateau. Sometimes you can use the kite, but forward momentum is hindered by large snowdrifts, blown by the wind across your path, often many miles long. You get stuck by the weather and have to sit it out on occasion, this gives a few precious rest days, but the reality is that you just have to keep on going. Slowly, the sled becomes lighter, but at the same time, your body becomes more and more tired. The snow conditions are getting poorer, and it feels like trying to ski on beach sand. Finally, you reach Chicago. Two-thirds of the trip remains.