December 3, 2010 Arrival at Union Glacier Base Camp.

Minus 20 degrees Fahrenheit air took hold of any exposed flesh as we stepped out of the jet.  Collars were raised and closed; light gloves were exchanged for heavier versions. We were directed to a portable structure where hot tea and a kerosene heater provided welcome comfort.  Groups of eight would board a van just unloaded from the IL76.  With the benefit of snow tracks instead of wheels, the van easily crossed the 8 kilometer expanse to Base Camp.  Three large Quonset hut tents form the core of Union Glacier Base Camp. Two are laid out with rows of tables for dining and cooking stations at the rear.  Another is the designated library…a place for journaling, napping or silent board games.  A set of 4 restroom huts stand opposite the dining tents. One of these huts is lined only with urinals.  The second is designated for the ladies only – it's contents remain a mystery.  What is known is that all residents are expected to keep urine and feces separate, thus the remaining two huts have both drop toilets and wall urinals, and one is expected to use each accordingly.  Several grids of tents are arranged around the perimeter of the camp.  Outside of those, is a line of flags delineating the safe zone. We're living on a glacier…..a moving, cracking, expanding and contracting piece of frozen water.  Crevasse falls are a very real risk outside of the safe zone.  As such, the message of the flags is understood and respected by all.
The occupants of this camp form a very international populace. Many of the ANI staff working as support personnel are either Norwegian or Kiwi; the IL76 pilots are Russian; the pilots of the Twin Otter are Canadian; we share a dining tent with other teams hailing from Jakarta, Germany, Russia and Canada.  In the whole of this place I have found only one American, aside from myself. Though English seems to be the common linguistic thread, I often have to ask people to repeat themselves, as my ear is not tuned to the varied accents.       Germans study my blue eyes and prodigious beak, then initiate conversations in their native language…but for two generations, they would be quite correct. 
We have enjoyed the comforts of this place for 24 hours, waiting for clear enough weather for the Twin Otter to fly. Though the night time temperature was well below zero, our team logged a comfortable and much needed 11 hours of sleep.  There is a nervous energy about the team, a restless anticipation of our next leg up.  We pace and drink too much tea. We talk about other mountains, other interests.  We confess to already missing the women in our lives back home.  Phil, always ready with a bright smile and clever comment, suggested we take a warm bottle of water to bed.  This, he claimed, would abate the loneliness.  I further suggested that members shave one leg.  While the group appreciated the logic behind this, they also made it clear they are not THAT lonely. 
Word came at 10:00am that the Otter would fly today.  Mitchell will leave first, rounding out the passenger count on that flight.  The rest of the team will follow in the second flight, taking off about 4:30pm.  I'm watching Mitchell.  He is watching the Otter warm up. He has the eyes of a bird dog….focused and serious. The epitome of a modern adventurer, Mitchell has run endurance races all over the world, including one through the Amazon.  He has hunted big game in Africa, climbed six of the seven continental summits, surfed the breakers off Fiji, and dove among sharks.  Mitchell is already planning to next trek across Greenland.  At age 62 he shows no signs of slowing.  Mitchell is extremely well spoken in the fashion of the highly educated, but at times has difficulty keeping all of that knowledge contained.  He woke his tent mate, Guy, this morning, with a critical dissertation on the safety latch used on the German Mauser rifle