Night

It is 11 p.m. or so. It is still relatively light outside. But the snow and wind are howling through our campsite. I struggle to my tent. I pull off my Sorels, rated for arctic conditions, lumbering, heavy black rubber blocks for my feet, making certain to avoid getting snow on my socks. Wet feet are a major danger in this cold. I yank off my snowmobile suit and with three layers remaining, the bitter cold is stinging. Next my snowpants and with two layers on my bottom half and shivering I lunge myself into my sleeping bag. Now my Gortex shell. I start to warm up after a while, but cannot bear going down to one layer of clothing. My neck and head are covered with a balaclava and fleece hat. Still, with part of my face exposed, I cannot stand the cold. I bury myself inside the sleeping bag, zipping both layers to the top with only a tiny airhole. I will still wake often because I am unbearably cold.

I cannot believe this tent will stand against the wind. The wind is beating on the nylon. I cannot believe this tent will withstand the weight of the snow accumulating quickly, snow that will cause us to have to dig out. Under my bag is a thin mat and air mattress. Audun tells us it is self-inflating. He raises his eyebrows when he tells us this. Sleep will be hard and fitfull.

It will be bright again by 4 a.m. but the hardest part of the day will be bearing up again in the morning to crawl out of the bag.