Today, I leave for Antarctica. In a few hours, I will board a plane first to Buenos Aires, Argentina. Actually, we’re headed to Houston for an hour and then on to Buenos Aires, but that is a small technicality. We’ll spend a few days in Buenos Aires and then on to Antarctica by way of ship, which we’ll board in Ushuaia.
I’m excited, nervous, frustrated my achilles is not one hundred percent, and did I mention excited? This trip has been over four years in the making and it’s finally here. 🙌🏼
A cold is trying to weasel its way into my system. With all the rain and cold, damp days lately, people have been coughing, sneezing, and sniffling at the office, in the grocery stores, and forget about hitting the gym.
There is something going around. I can feel it worming its way through my sinuses and lungs trying to find a place to settle and get comfy. But, as my grandmother would say, I’m not having any of it. I completely refuse it. To counter its intentions, I’ve loaded up with EmergenC chewable tablets and Coldeeze (zinc), and will continue until both packages are empty.
Plus, there’s so much going on at work that the stress of all the change might have lowered my immune system as well. Change is never easy, even if it’s good. So it feels like it’s either the absolute worst time or positively the best time to be away. Perspective is everything, I suppose.
I’m going with it’s the best time, and will try to put all the change on a shelf for the two weeks I won’t have internet access or cell coverage. That’s right, no cellular coverage on the ship or on the white continent. I’m going to have the shakes for the first 24-48 hours. 😁
When I’m not marveling at the expanse of the Arctic Ocean or gazing at the billions of stars I’ll see from the ship’s deck, I plan to spend indoor cabin time with books – downloaded ten or so – and music. I’ll also bring my Mac to journal and capture the days and moments as they happen, plus do some other writing. And maybe just a teeny, tiny bit of work. Don’t judge.
All in all, I’m pretty much packed. Minimalism certainly has its advantages. I’ve managed to squeeze almost my entire wardrobe and running gear into a carryon and North Face duffle bag. The same duffle I used when I trekked to Everest Base Camp. The bag is enormous and I was able to fit several days of clothes for different climates (Buenos Aires is 75 degrees and Patagonia is 35 degrees) along with a short foam roller, dry bag for the Zodiac, day pack, extra pair of shoes, additional jacket, and much more.
In my carryon, I have all my running gear for race day, which is substantial because of how cold it will be. It’s packed to the brim with running shoes, socks, hat, gloves, balaclava, three layers of clothing, a sports bra, and so on. Plus, I packed all medicine in there too, especially the seasickness patches and my mini first aid kit that mostly consists of moleskin, ibuprofen, bandaids, and blister repair patches.
I also packed the GoPro gear in my carryon along with the bare minimum of clothing should my duffle go missing. No no no, not going to happen. But just in case. South America has a reputation for losing gear. I’m just hoping it’s not mine this time around.
With all of this packing and preparation, I still feel unsettled and unprepared, like I missed something. And I probably did, but I’ll figure it out as I go. Although I had more than four years to prepare for this epic journey, it really boiled down to the last few months and weeks, which happen to be a little tumultuous complete with a heavy dose of sickness and injury.
But, I’ll figure it out. Things always sort themselves out in the end. This is just my experience and I’ll make the best of it, work a little harder, spend a few more cycles making sure I’ve covered all the bases, check my packing list yet again for the fifteenth time. I’ll do – and have done – the hard things now so I can enjoy the fruits a little bit later.
Speaking of fruits, it’s time for breakfast. Next post will be from Argentina.
Buen día! 🗻🏃🏻♀️ 💪🏼
Montana is an incredibly beautiful, not to mention enormous, state. From east to west it’s about the equivalent of driving from Chicago to New Jersey. Crazy big.
About a decade ago, I had the opportunity to do some backpacking inside Glacier National Park. It was one of the most memorable backpacking trips, from seeing a massive and somehow majestic moose standing only a few meters away to crossing a waist-high, ice-cold mountain river hoisting my camera and the rest of my pack above my head in an attempt to keep it dry. We also came across a mama bear with her two nine-month-old cubs. Luckily, no mauling ensued.
When I arrived in Bozeman earlier this month, the little airport felt welcoming and cozy. It was built like a mountain lodge with raised wooden beams supporting a roof that takes on an average of seventy-two inches of snow each year. Outside, the Montana that I recalled entering many years ago, with it’s clean air, grand mountains nestled on an eternal horizon, and impossibly large clouds somehow not blocking the warm sun that fell on my face, greeted me kindly. Although many years ago, I had landed in Kalispell almost three hundred miles away, this was the same big sky country. It felt like an embrace from an old friend.
We stayed at a newly built dwelling called the Sage Lodge in Pray, MT. They were still putting the finishing touches on the rooms. When we checked in, we were missing oddities like lightbulbs and the sliding screen door handle. Strange, but the staff were mostly friendly and you couldn’t beat the location, which was almost on top of the Yellowstone River and a thirty-five minute drive straight across the Wyoming boarder into Yellowstone National Park.
Since taking on the minimalist way of life, there wasn’t much packed in my suitcase. It was light as a feather. Two t-shirts, an athletic long sleeve pullover, a SmartWool shirt, hiking pants, jeans, socks, hiking shoes, sandals, pjs, undergarments, a hat, sunglasses, and a toiletry bag. (Minimalism aside, I was glad the lodge we stayed in had laundry because by the third day, I needed them all cleaned.)
I’ve heard fishing is good for the mind, body, and soul, and we were in the best fly fishing spot in the world, so I figured why not. And it did not disappoint. On the Yellowstone River, there are rules about which fish you can keep, which you must release, and others you must keep or kill. According to the law, we released all our catches.
Every time I’d get a bite, I’d “set” my pole, which basically means pull it up as hard and fast as you can, and hope there’s a fish on the other end of it. I missed most times, but managed to net two beautiful rainbow trout. The experience of pulling them in, feeling their weight on the other side of the pole, and then guiding them gently into the net was invigorating. I’d wet my hands, hold them for a quick picture, and then they went back into the water hopefully a little wiser for the wear.
We also spent a day in Yellowstone. Did a six-mile hike out and back to the Imperial Geyser, saw a few bison, a bighorn sheep, and watched good ole Ole Faithful do its thing too. Impressive.
When the four days were over, I was sad to leave Montana. There is a rugged wildness, a real wilderness, about the state. And yet, I felt safe and supported by the mountains, the rivers and streams, the vast earth. Maybe it was just nice to get out of the city and see the stars. Whatever it was, I want to go back.
People say Montana winters are a “dry cold,” which I guess is supposed to be less cold somehow. I don’t know about that, but I might go back this winter just to test out the theory. I’m thinking snowshoeing or cross country skiing. Anything to get outside, even in the freezing temperatures, to be with those mountains and rivers, and under that big sky again.
In two days I depart to Kathmandu, Nepal. The training has been, how should I say, less than ideal. But my spirit is up to the challenge. As many of you know, I’ve been struggling for the past year with hip, leg, and back issues. This has hindered my walking, running, and undoubtedly trekking activities. However, for the past couple of weeks I’ve really felt an improvement in part due to reading and following the doctor’s orders detailed in the book Healing Back Pain by John Sarno. It talks about how pain, the kind I had, can be caused by repressed emotions. It’s not a fluffy, new age book either. This is a western medical doctor with over twenty years of experience seeing back, hip, and leg patients. It’s not a sales pitch, but if you’re suffering with pain in those areas and you can’t seem to shake or figure out, it’s worth the read.
Besides my lack of consistent training, I’m still figuring out what to pack so I don’t freeze or starve on my way up to Everest base camp. I’ve checked out dozens of blogs and consulted with a handful of incredible people who have done this or a similar trek, and opinions all vary. It really boils down to what do I think I need. Mind you, there are the basics, sleeping bag, warm jacket, boots, backpack that can hold water. These things everyone agrees on. But the rest is kind of up to me. It’s perfectly terrifying. All on me.
The reason I resurrected this blog is to be able to share photos of the trek along with contextual information like location or the story behind the picture. Opinions will likely make their way out here too. But, mostly I wanted to journal the experience. It’s rare someone gets to do this once in a lifetime, if at all, and I want to share with those who may never get the chance. Hope you enjoy it.