If I had to choose a favorite day so far on this expedition, it will be today.
Not just because we are now on the other side of the countdown to 90 degrees but because of the gifts the arctic gave us throughout the day.
Thanks to the excellent weather forecast from Helga van Leur and drift forecast from Mark Drinkwater, we were well prepared this morning for the challenges ahead.

Forecast was for strong winds and low visibility but just one hour out of camp, the sky opened up, sun poked through with perfect ‘Jesus’ beams and lit up the blue ice blocks in front of my skis.
I am not particularly religious but if there was a religious moment this must be it.
The wind quit completely and the sun actually manage to give a bit of its warmth.
Ice crystals were glistening in the sky, the whole arctic suddenly became winter still.
I stopped and took off my skis, unleashed my sled and breathe in this special moment.

Most of the time we see the tips of our skis because our heads are tugged inside our hoods of our jackets, too afraid to have any skin exposed and face frostbite but when these precious moments arise, you need to embrace them.
I like to think that the Arctic is given us some gentleness after its relentless war with cold, and wind and it is showing us that she can be gracious and kind.
For all of us out here it has been very challenging due to the extreme cold temperatures but we persevere and the rewards of today were incredibly welcome.

A few hours later we skied over the biggest frozen lead so far.
The size of a lake with snow drift blowing over its surface, so different that we normally see here on the North Pole.
The sky closed in again around 16:00 hours and left us with a sliver of light in the northern horizon.

A dramatic day - a seascape full of contrasts - a day you re thankful for being here at all costs.

Replay van de Facebook Live vanaf de Noordpool. 12 April 2017.

Volg Bernice op Facebook

Once in a while the Arctic throws something at you which makes you stop in your tracks and you need a  moment to comprehend what just happens.

Today we had such a moment.
Still being unbearable cold, the first hour out of the tent is the moment of the naked  truth - rested, warm and fed - now you need to face the reality of the day.
Fifteen minutes into our first hour I came across fresh tracks heading straight to our camp.

After taking a closer look, I recognize the tracks of a polar fox, a single set crisscrossing over a wide pan of wind slab.
After a moment of disbelief you wonder what a polar fox is doing out here.
Nothing to eat because everything is frozen for hunting.
Is it just tracking a polar bear and scavenge the scraps of his meal?

Normally you should be wary to see fox tracks but I felt at awe with the presence of another creature roaming around here, we’re no longer alone.

A few hours later while Ann and I were struggling through rubble of ice blocks and pulling our sleds over junks the size of a refrigerator, Martin saw a tern flying over our heads.
First it circled Ann and seconds later it zoomed over my head.
A bird and a fox in the middle of the Arctic Ocean, close to the North Pole, the furthest one can be from any source of food and vegetation.

A tern flies all the way to the Arctic, turns around and flies back to the Antarctic - it travels the greatest distance of any bird in the world.

We were discussing this today.
What is the point?
To go through such effort and then not even enjoying your arrival?
But then again why do you want to spend time here in the absolute freezer box when it is nicer only a few degrees to the south.

Every 2 kilometers we stop to measure snow.
Sometimes we would rather ignore this science because stopping and doing 10 measurements, writing down coordinates and snow depths is tedious, and time consuming.
We know that this kind of science is non-sexy, unglamorous but perhaps one of the most important contributions to understanding the arctic.

After our successful fly-over by NASA a few days ago, we are motivated to really give scientists relevant and valuable data, from the 224 km we ski to the pole.
This means you need to follow a protocol- don’t deviate and let the snow sampling be favorable to your location but take it as it comes.
So today was another frigid day, -36C likely -40 with the windchill, not a day to stand around and ensemble a probe pole, take out your notebook (and gloves) and write down the measurements.
However by doing this consistently we are starting to get a good feel for the snowpack.

Since today we are skiing over big frozen leads - that were open water lakes before the cold spell.
Ironically the closer we are getting to the North Pole the bigger the leads.
Good for us they are solid now and we ski right over them but in a few months from now this will all be water.

As you can imagine the amount of snow on top of a lead is marginal - no more then 3 to 4 cm.
But more important question would be when did it snow and how long ago?
Scientists would like us to register windslabs on top of the snow and today we continuously walked on crusty and collapsing layers, the ones that are a curse for our sleds and they break right through.
It means it has been windy here close to the pole.

This in combination with drift and current, the North Pole is dynamic and ever changing.
Underneath the slab we find hoarse crystals — a sign of severe cold.
This is a crystal that doesn’t bond with anything due to its size and formation.
When you ski through them it sounds like you ski through broken glass.

I am starting to really enjoy this micro analyzing of the snow we ski over mile after mile.
Kudos to Ann who volunteered to do the snow stabbing while we warmed ourselves.