Altitude
We're currently camped at an altitude of just over 2,000 metres, on a rounded-off ridge with one of the most glorious views on the planet.
Neither of us have really noticed the altitude (aside from the sun being even stronger up here) but the climb that we ended the day with was an epic. It took us a shade over an hour from bottom to top, the surface varied from glass-smooth ice to thigh-deep powdery snow. My ski skins (strips of fabric that give us traction on the snow) started slipping as the slope steepened and I switched to walking, strapping the skis to the top of my sledge. The weight of the sledge was incredible – it still weighs more than I do and this afternoon it felt like double. The harness bit into my hips and shoulders, and it seemed to be threatening to drag me right back down to the bottom if I slipped. Driving my poles into the ice, my legs and arms were awash with lactic acid, and at times I wondered if I'd be better off with the crampons that were stowed in my sledge. I was dripping with sweat when I reached the top, and Tony was hot on my heels. He leant on his ski poles and looked up at me, his mirrored Oakleys glinting red in the sun. 'Was it Michael Jackson or the Jackson Five that did that song…' He started smiling and raised his voice a couple of octaves. 'Don't stop, don't stop, don't stop till you get enough.' He stabbed a piece of snow with his pole. 'I've had it in my bloody head for that whole climb.'
— Filed under Greenland