December 5, 2010 Arriving Vinson Base Camp.

As the weather continued to improve, the decision was made to use a DC3 fitted with skids to move the climbing teams from Central Base.  The teams were deposited on a glacial runway a short distance from the Vinson base, from which the Twin Otter carried us the remaining distance. Soon thereafter a cloud system moved in, cheating us of the sun's warmth.  Our team immediately set about shoveling out level platforms to build the tents upon.  This was hard work, which rewarded us with a temporary respite from the extreme cold. Three two-man tents were erected, and then a group dining tent was secured over a rectangular hole dug 4 feet into the snow.  Bench seats and shelves for food provisions were likewise carved into the snow beneath this tent.  Our guide Doug prepared hot tea and biscuits.  We all marveled at the place where we had arrived.  It is easy to look in almost any direction and imagine that no human has set foot there.   Jagged snowy peaks surround us on three sides, with heavily crevassed valleys between them.  Massive seracs, or blocks of broken glacier stack up like a great bag of Legos dumped at the base of these glaciers.  There is a silence, like that which fills the space between echoes.  An auditory wedge separating statement from affirmation.
"I'm cold." Phil declared, and left to fetch his heavy parka.  "Me toes are numb." he added.  "Mine too." I agreed.  As the sun faded lower behind the hills, whatever meager solar heat it had been providing followed with it.  The cold crept into all of us, even as we enjoyed a hot chicken and pasta dinner.  Doug advised that it would be 30 degrees colder at the summit.  This came as serious information to the team members, many of whom were already cold and wearing their heaviest gear.  To change the mood, I told a joke, titled "Mumba Bumba", which cannot be repeated here as my mother is among the readers of this blog.  By the time we retired to our tents at 11pm, I was chilled through. I climbed into my 40 below down bag and closed the top behind me.  I lay in the fetal position for almost 30 minutes before feeling the warmth return to my feet.  I tried to listen to the audio book about Ernest Shackleton on my iPod, but it only made me feel colder.  Scrolling through my musical options, I lit upon Jefferson Airplane's "White Rabbit".  I cannot say why, but something about it just seemed to fit and the comfort that came soon took me away to the land of Morpheus.