October 1st
As the pack ice is currently drifting at one knot every three hours, the crew must periodically change the Healy’s position to keep it close to the Pole. They are also looking for a floe large and stable enough for our “Ice Liberty.” Plans have changed, so we won’t be getting onto the ice until tomorrow. It will be everyone’s first time off the Healy in 29 days and it’s very exciting. Later tomorrow, we will begin our long journey south. Along the way, there will be frequent long and short stations for science deployments. Yesterday and today there have been major deployments of the scientific instruments and equipment.
Tomorrow, we will place more than 200 small wooden boats on an ice floe. They have been decorated by people on the Healy and children from different schools around the United States. A tracking device will be placed on the same floe to follow its progress. Each boat has a tracking number and the name of a website, www.floatboat.org, burned into its deck. On the website, people who find one of these boats can contact the organization so that the participating schools and children will know where and when their boats were found.
This morning, I was given back three Styrofoam coffee cups that I had decorated for my grandchildren. They had been attached to equipment that was sent to the bottom of the Arctic Ocean at the Pole. It’s a tradition on the ship to send these cups down; they come back the size of shot glasses because of the enormous pressure in the deep. I was also given a tiny bottle of water from samples taken near the sea bottom at the Pole, 4100 meters (13,450 feet) deep. It’s exciting to have the water.
September 30th
At 22:06:01 UTC, 2:08 pm Alaska time, we reached and stopped at the North Pole after 27 days on the USCG icebreaker Healy. The temperature was 2.2°F, -16.6°C with 17-knot winds–not too bad if you were out of the wind.
The author at the North Pole, September 30, 2022.
Many people were up on the bridge as we got there, and all were quite giddy. Several people, including me, were watching the three GPS displays carefully to see and photograph the exact moment we reached the latitude of 90°N. The GPS readings for longitude were going crazy with each one showing wildly different and fluctuating numbers.
The different GPS systems are in different locations on the ship and thus fall along different meridians of longitude at 90°N. At the Pole, we are in a place with no constant hourly time. The hour fluctuates if you walk a short distance. By walking around the Pole a few feet away, one can walk through every time zone and meridian of longitude in a few seconds.
Earlier in the morning we had a spectacular “almost” sunrise with wild colors, cloud formations, and ice. While there were many leads of open water over the past few days, much of last night was slow going in heavy ice.
The sun at its zenith on September 30, 2022, a few miles from the North Pole.
September 29th
Today the sun transited our meridian (line of longitude) at 2049 UTC (Coordinated Universal Time, based on the standard time at Greenwich, UK) or 2:29 pm Alaska time. For the first time, it is below the horizon 24 hours a day. We went from 7:49 hours of daylight yesterday to none today. Though it’s still quite light out and was that way almost all night, the sun won’t rise above the horizon at this latitude until close to the spring equinox in 2023.
We’re above 88° N, about 138 miles from the North Pole and moving through a lead at 7+ knots. The captain estimates that we’ll be at the Pole on Saturday, October 1st barring long passages through thick ice. We’ve continued to have long leads that increase our speed. If we get there on the 1st, we will be in medium twilight. Then, when we turn south, we will be chasing the sun, which will reappear as we move to lower latitudes. Theoretically, we could choose any heading (direction) south with the slightest movement east or west.
September 28th
For the past three days, we’ve largely been in snow and fog conditions with little visibility. The hours of daylight have been diminishing rapidly. We’ve gone from about 13 hours to less than 8 hours of daylight in under a week. At the Pole, the sun hasn’t risen above the horizon since September 24th.
Though at times, we’ve been moving through the pack ice slowly while we’re “backing and ramming” our way through pressure ridges, we’re making good progress toward the Pole. Pressure ridges are formed when wind and water currents cause ice floes to push together, forcing the ice up into mounds of thick broken ice.
The ship "backing and ramming”— preparing to hit the ice a second time after losing momentum in the thick ice. The dark material in the ice is most likely dirt that was attached to formerly fast ice (ice attached to the bottom). It most likely drifted across from the Siberian continental shelf.
This morning, we crossed 87° N, 207 miles from the Pole. We’re not planning to do any science stations before we get to the Pole due to the ice and weather. Though the fog and snow continued this morning, this afternoon was glorious with sun, beautiful skies, and a huge lead with open water and grease ice, which has a matte appearance. The lead was about one mile wide by six miles long and by far the largest area of open water since we entered the pack ice. Leads, or their absence, are largely caused by the direction and strength of the prevailing winds.
I’ve been thinking about what the trip means to me. It’s an amazing adventure and opportunity to travel and photograph a place where few people venture. It’s a long, 55-day trip to an extremely remote and forbidding location. But I’m on a 420-foot long USCG icebreaker, guided by a knowledgeable captain and crew. We get three square meals a day and comfortable if not luxurious quarters. There are also three gyms and many other forms of entertainment. It’s also warm and dry here.
When I go outside in my new fancy down parka to photograph, I think about those who first ventured here. They endured unimaginable conditions with crude equipment. Many perished, as did many of those who set out to rescue them. I’m just a tiny drop in their ocean of discovery.
Correction
I’ve been incorrectly stating that one degree of latitude is equal to 60 statute miles. One degree of latitude is 60 nautical miles or about 69 statute miles, so I’ve been understating distances by about 15 percent.
Looking south at noon at thin ice in a long lead of open water.
Thin and pack ice with unusual form in foreground.
With the sun below the horizon, the sky and clouds are lit from below. The dark area in the foreground is open water.