SNOWKITING DD SNOECK[1][2]

On the verge of exhaustion we check our GPS: 95.3
kilometers. There is hardly any wind anymore, and
we have had it for today. Done. Finito. These sastrugi
laugh at us, viciously mocking us like bullies on a school
playground. The call of our tent, with its warmth and
coziness, seduces us like a siren. I look Sam straight in
the eyes and I hear someone else speak through my
mouth when I confront him with an oppressive, outof-body,
compulsive excess: “Let’s go for the 100!”
And off we go again, stumbling for the last 5 kilometers
to reach our goal: 100 kilometers and not one
centimeter further! It has been enough for today!
We enjoy our cup of soup as if it was a rare delicacy,
and while doing so we launch the meteo-kite with its
weather stations to stick to our promised scientific
data collection. Is this self-flagellation?
It was really hard yesterday and I anxiously hope things
will be better today. There should be enough wind, but
the wind-sock is a bit ambiguous this morning. It looks
as if we could use the Frenzy’s but we often progress
too slowly. How we wish it were like yesterday, when
the kites generated so much force. The wind is soft and
pleasant today. When I look back, I see a wonderful
horizon. During the winter season, Antarctica reveals
no visible signals to indicate the time of day: no
morning, no evening, no day time. Even while the sun
circles endlessly above us, the horizon reminds me of
magnificent sunrises at home. Some mist hangs in
the distance, like an early-morning Belgian fog. The
sunlight transforms the cloudy curtain into thousands
of polar colors. Strange how I feel myself transmuting
into the seemingly endless shades of white. Every day
is different. Every day is full of surprises. I realize that we
have to cherish this unique moment in time, although
the lack of familiar references feels weird. Day, night,
life, ambient temperatures - everything around us here
is hostile, foreign. This land is not made for life forms
like ourselves, but it is tremendously beautiful and
refreshingly different from what we recognize.
I always feel deeply cold during the first hours of
each day. It takes some time to slowly thaw, not an
easy task with a relatively immobile body. Once
outside, my morning routine advances pleasantly