One afternoon, midway through our trip, I joined other passengers on the deck of the Akademik Ioffe and watched amazed as humpback whales played in the water below. There were two or three alongside the ship, each a good 20 feet long, and dozens more spread out to our left and right, fluke-flipping, fin-slapping, barrel-rolling and thrusting their knobby heads out of the water, those nearest so close, we could look them in the eye. This played out as we skimmed along the western side of the Antarctic Peninsula, its coast a seemingly endless chain of rugged mountains and smooth glaciers. We passed icebergs the size of city blocks, ivory white above the water, cool aqua below. The humpback show went on for more than an hour.
Friday, March 17, 2017
Thursday, March 2, 2017
As I and my traveling companions, Lindi Rosner and Debra Kaufman, prepare to board the flight tonight that will begin our trip to Antarctica, I am fixated on what a novel experience it is to visit the southern continent. The first confirmed sighting of the Antarctic landmass happened only in the 1820s—less than 200 years ago—and it wasn’t until 1895 that Norwegian explorers Henrik Bull and Carsten Borchgrevink became the first humans (so far as can be proved) to set foot there. The first Trans-Antarctic crossing was completed a mere blink-of-an-eye ago in 1958. Yet scant decades later, it’s possible for an average schmo lunkhead like me to travel there in near complete safety and comfort—and run a marathon to boot.
Saturday, February 18, 2017
When I first began running, my friend, Angela Brunson, shared with me a wise maxim for choosing races: “Never sign up for an event where you’ll spend more time getting there, than on the course itself.” In other words, a 10K that’s an hour’s drive from home is too far away. In two weeks, when I walk out my front door and head toward the starting line of the Antarctica Marathon, I’ll be violating Angela’s advice by stupendous proportion.
The journey for me and my intrepid support crew (my wife, Lindi Rosner, and our friend, Debra Kaufman) will begin with a 20-minute car ride from home to LAX. We’ll board a 5-hour flight to El Salvador, followed by a 4 hour flight to Lima, Peru, followed by a 4 ½-hour flight to Buenos Aires, Argentina. There, we’ll meet up with other marathon adventurers and do a bit of sightseeing before taking yet another flight, this one lasting 3 ½ hours, to Ushuaia, at the tip of South America.
Monday, March 7, 2016
"Man Proposes, Baikal Disposes."
On Sunday, March 6, 150 or so Frenchman, Poles, Germans, English, Chinese, Japanese and Russian runners took part in the Baikal Ice Marathon. There may have been other Americans in the race, but I didn’t meet any. About a third of the participants competed in the half marathon, running 13.1 miles to the midpoint of frozen Lake Baikal and then hopping in hovercraft to complete the passage. The rest attempted the full crossing, 26.2 miles from Tankhoy on the lake’s eastern shore, to Listvyanka on the west. In its twelfth running, BIM lived up to its billing as one of the world’s most spectacular and toughest marathons.
|The view outside my hotel window on the morning of the race.|
Friday, March 4, 2016
This morning after listening to a lecture on the aerobics of running from our guide Arkadiy, my Ice Marathon mates and I attempted to put theory into practice by making another assault on Lake Baikal. Yesterday afternoon, while I slept, a snow storm passed through leaving the ice covered in a blanket of fresh powder a foot deep. That turned our run into an awkward stumble. We soon gave up and reverted to tottering along on roads much to the annoyance of the local canines.
Thursday, March 3, 2016
My trip to Siberia began spasmodically. I made an error when I applied for a Russian visa in January, noting my date of arrival as March 2, the day I was scheduled to land in Irkutsk. I failed to consider my stopover in Moscow, which would happen a day earlier on March 1. When I showed up at LAX on Monday, Aeroflot told me that, due to the discrepancy, I couldn’t fly that day. I had to rebook.
Tuesday, I was allowed to head out. I took a 12 ½ hour flight to Moscow followed, after a two hour layover, by a five and a half hour flight to Irkutsk. I landed there at 4 a.m. Wednesday local time. I was met in the terminal by a young Russian who drove me the 145 km to my hotel in Baiklask. Door to door I was traveling for 27 hours.
Sunday, February 7, 2016
I bought a copy of Russian for Dummies and have been boning up on simple phrases that may come in handy when I run the Baikal Ice Marathon next month.
Доброе утро, товарищ! Это великолепный день в России-матушке!
Good morning, comrade! It is a glorious day in Mother Russia!
Нет воды. Водка!
No water. Vodka!
Kaк далеко до следующей станции помощи?
How far is it to the next aid station?
Я не могу чувстсвовать свою мошонку.
I can no longer feel my scrotum.