DAY 7: I am sound asleep when I feel the whole tent lift up and begin to slide around. At first I thought that I had overslept and that Alain was playing a little joke by unfolding the tent while I was still in it. But when I saw him in his sleeping bag looking as alarmed as I was and I heard the wind howling outside our tent, I realized that the wind was behind the shakeup. Panic in the tent! Alain rushed out to stabilize the tent with ice screws and ice picks. We had not experienced winds like this since we arrived in Greenland, and were very tired last night, so we were negligent in anchoring the tent. (We have vowed that this will not happen again!)

The culprit is the katabatic wind, or Piteraq, as it is know in Greenland, where it has been recorded at speeds of 230 kilometers per hour along the East Coast. Katabatic winds are also known as fall winds because they occur when cold, high-density air flows from a high elevation to a lower elevation and is accelerated by the force of gravity. Katabatic winds occur in many places, and include California’s famous Santa Ana winds, but they’re most common to Greenland and Antarctica, where the wind drops off the edge of ice sheets at hurricane speeds.

We awoke to winds blowing at a constant 60 to 70 kilometers per hour. As they died down, we dismantled the camp and started ascending the ice cap. Unfortunately, Mr. Katabatic quickly returned and stuck with us the whole day. Given that we were going uphill, the katabatic wind was blasting directly in our faces. We couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of us, so we trudged along with our heads down to avoid getting snow in our faces, even though they were already completely covered with tiny icicles. Alain estimates that the wind-chill factor brought the temperature down to -22 degrees Fahrenheit (-30 degrees Celsius).

We climbed for seven hours stopping only twice for five minutes each as it was too brutal to stop for longer. The most comfortable position was moving – it was the only way to keep the heat up for our frozen faces and hands.

Our hopes for a break in the wind never materialized, so we decide to set up our tent, which required all of Alain's skills, experience and talent to succeed without breaking it.

The last decision of the day was easy: We will not move until Mr. Katabatic goes away. So it’s time turn on the TV and relax -- welcome to the Arctic!

[At right, Larry settles into the tent to type up his dispatch for his seventh day on the ice.] 

[Editor's note: Over the course of two weeks, Larry Lunt, a member of NRDC's Global Leadership Council, and Alain Hubert, a Belgian explorer and founder of the International Polar Foundation, will trek some 200 miles from the town of Qaanaaq across Greenland's Humbolt Glacier, the Northern Hemisphere's largest and fastest moving river of ice. Along the way, as special contributors to OnEarth's Greenlight blog, Lunt and Hubert will post dispatches from the ice: stories of a culture and wilderness in flux and lessons for what our own future may hold.  Follow the journey at our Destination: Greenland page.]

TRACK THE EXPEDITION ON THE MAP: