August 27. 18.7 km, nearly 500 feet of climbing.

The day began in white.

Not dramatic whiteout, not storm-driven, just the familiar absence of contrast that has come to define travel out here. Elaine and I took the first lead together. Despite the lack of visual reference, we held a clean bearing and moved steadily, skiing in rhythm, trusting instruments, trusting each other. There wasn’t much to say, and nothing needed to be said.

Progress came steadily but not easily. There was a lot of breaking trail, soft snow stacking resistance onto every step. The mood in the group felt lighter than it had the day before. Not effortless, but steadier. Marette struggled with a sore heel, and later Elaine improvised a set of heel lifts that brought visible relief. Small fixes like that can change the shape of a day.

The wind came and went, snow drifting across the surface, and the hours settled into a familiar grind. On one of my lead shifts I tried a technique Carol had been using, skiing with a single pole. It loosened everything. One hand free made it easier to glance at the compass, check the GPS, take a photo without stopping. The movement felt more open, less clenched.

Late in the day, the icecap shifted.

The sun broke through the cloud layer and depth returned all at once. Shadows stretched. The surface sparkled. The light was quiet and glowing, almost unreal, easily the most beautiful skiing we’d had so far. I led the final shift, Elaine running navigation behind me, and for long stretches it felt like I was alone on the icecap, moving through a world that had suddenly come alive. Skiing forward as everything glimmered around me, I felt something simple and rare: real happiness, even elation. The kind that wells up unexpectedly, without explanation. The kind that reminds you why you come out here at all.

There is a lot of value in stoicism on trips like this. It’s efficient. It keeps things moving. But days like today reminded me how important it is to let the highs carry you too. To feel them fully, without tamping them down. Without that, it’s hard to know what all the effort is really for.

We’re still early in this crossing, with far more ice ahead than behind. But today felt like a clean turn in the arc of the trip.

Tomorrow, we keep moving, lighter than we were yesterday.