Descent : disturb the comfort & comfort the disturbed

Thrilling, punishing, and beyond treacherous; freediving in freezing water is not for the faint of heart, but for Kiki Bosch, it was a life saver.

Kiki dives into the world’s coldest waters on one breath, without a wetsuit.

She’s plunged into Finland’s frozen lakes and under Greenland’s icebergs.

Her initiation into this sport began as a search for healing, following the debilitating trauma of a sexual assault.

Having undergone a traumatic event which led to perpetual panic attacks and nightmares, she found solace in cold water. 

After discovering the immense release from ice freediving, Kiki has travelled far and wide, not only to push her physical and psychological limits, but also to inspire others to harness the power of the cold.

Wim Hof Method Instructor & Ice Freediver who utilises the therapeutic potential of cold water immersion to overcome trauma, reset the mind & harmonise with the body.

http://www.kikibosch.com/ 

Kiki Bosch is a freediver, nutritionist, biohacker and daredevil from the Netherlands.

From extreme cold she drew the mental fortitude required to overcome torturous mind manifestations and the life yoke of trauma.

Kiki’s main philosophy is summarised in the phrase: “Disturb the comfort and comfort the disturbed.” She believes that we should aim to uproot the comfort of everyday life in order to stretch our belief systems and expand our notion of what is possible.

Whilst simultaneously having the ability to seek comfort when we are feeling down, and to support those around us who are in need of it as it is part of our obligation to our community and ourselves to find a balance between both of these forces. 

Imagery published in 2020

Sentinel-2, Landsat-8, SNPP-VIIRS, MODIS Terra & Aqua, Himawari-8, GOES,... satellites.

courtesy of Iban Amestoy

see FlickR 

Extraordinary 1915 photos from Ernest Shackleton’s disastrous Antarctic expedition

Frank Hurley/Scott Polar Research Institute, University of Cambridge/Getty Images

From History by Madison Horne

Frank Hurley's photos were originally intended as scientific documentation of an unexplored continent.

Instead, they recorded an epic survival story.

The Endurance listing to one side in the ice.

When photographer Frank Hurley signed on to document British explorer Ernest Shackleton’s expedition to the South Pole in 1914, he knew he’d be capturing some of the earliest images of Antarctica’s bleak and beautiful unexplored terrain.

 

The Endurance, crushed by pack ice and sinking.

 

But after Shackleton’s ship, HMS Endurance, was trapped by pack ice—and slowly succumbed to its crushing pressure—the expedition's fate, and that of its crew, looked bleak.

Hundreds of miles from inhabited territory, and far from any well-traveled shipping lanes, they wouldn’t be rescued for more than a year and a half.

Explorer Ernest Shackleton

Frank Hurley/Scott Polar Research Institute, University of Cambridge/Getty Images

Hurley’s photographs, captured on heavy glass negatives, were originally intended as documents of the expedition’s pioneering scientific research.

But after the Endurance met its unlucky fate, they recorded something even more extraordinary: the epic survival of 28 men amid extreme physical hardship and mental stress.

The wake of the Endurance through young ice during Ernest Shackleton's ill-fated Imperial Trans-Antarctic Expedition, c. 1915.

 

He captured not only the desolate polar landscape, but the grit and determination of the stranded crew members trying to stay warm in sub-zero temperatures, stave off starvation and despair, and pass time on an ice floe as they witnessed the slow-motion destruction of the Endurance, their only refuge. 

Endurance crew members work to break up the pack ice trapping their ship, early 1915.

 

As the photographs show, Hurley had no trouble lugging his heavy camera gear up the sides of mountains or high up into the ship’s rigging, to get panoramic views. 

 

Ice crystals on the rigging of the Endurance, c. 1915.

He even set up a darkroom in the ship—no small feat. 

As he wrote in his journal: “Darkroom work rendered extremely difficult by the low temperatures it being minus 13 [degrees] C outside. The temperature in the darkroom, near the engine room, is just above freezing. Washing [plates] is troublesome, as the tank must be kept warm or the plates become [enclosed] in an ice block... Development is a source of annoyance to the fingers, which split and crack around the nails in a painful manner.”

With the Endurance immobilized, its crew passed the time however they could—including ice-floe soccer. The ship can be seen in the background.

 

Crew member Thomas Orde-Lees and cook Charles Green, their faces black with smoke from a blubber stove, prepare a meal in a makeshift galley on the ice, during the ill-fated march from Ocean Camp to Patience Camp. Antarctica, 1915. 

 

Expedition photographer Frank Hurley (left) and leader Ernest Shackleton cooking in front of a tent at Patience Camp, Antarctica. 

 

When the Endurance was finally swallowed up by the ice after 10 months, taking Hurley’s collection of glass plate negatives with it, the photographer, determined to preserve his work, dove into the freezing water to retrieve the negatives and film.

However, Shackleton had different priorities and deemed the negatives too heavy to carry along in their journey.

 

Navigating officer Huberht Taylor Hudson with young Emperor penguin chicks, January 12, 1915. Hudson was known as the expedition's most accomplished penguin catcher.

Dogs housed on the floe, February 23, 1915.

 

On the spot, Hurley had to make a quick decision about which photographs were most important to keep.

He edited down more than 600 photographs to a little more than 100 glass plates, smashing the rejects right on the ice.

Stranded Expedition Party of Sir Ernest Henry Shackleton. The ship "Endurance" was crushed by ice floes and icebergs that stranded the exploration party on Elephant Island.

After the ship sank, the crew dragged their lifeboats a few miles and then camped on the ice for four more months, until it began to crack.

They then endured a grueling voyage over rough seas to Elephant Island, where the men waited four more months as Shackleton and five others ventured for help.

 

Launching the 'James Caird,' Shackleton and five others setting out for relief to South Georgia, April 24, 1916.

 

The 'Stancombe Wills' and 'Dudley Docker' made into a hut for shelter, Elephant Island, The hut was known as the 'Snuggery' by the crew, Antarctica.

Twenty two men lived in this hut for four and a half months, including photographer Frank Hurley. 

 

Hurley, who had to abandon most of his equipment after the Endurance was lost to the ice, carried a Kodak Vest Pocket camera and three rolls of film for the remainder of the ordeal.

 

The scene on Elephant Island when, at the fourth attempt, Sir Ernest Shackleton succeeded in reaching the island and getting off the 22 men whom he had left there when he set off on his journey of 750 miles to South Georgia in a little boat to get help.

 

He shot about three dozen more images on Elephant Island, as well as of the eventual rescue.

Every man survived.

Links :

• History : The Stunning Survival Story of Ernest Shackleton and His Endurance Crew
• GeoGarage blog : Will anyone ever find Shackleton's lost ship? / Antarctic Weddell expedition targets Shackleton's lost ship / British scientists in race to find lost ...  / Haunting words from one of the most daring ...  /  Walking in Shackleton's footsteps / Scott and Shackleton logbooks prove ... / Shackleton's icebound survival story, up close / Ernest Shackleton voyage to be retraced by ... / Shackleton Death or Glory - Rough Seas...
• YouTube : Shackleton, extraordinary Antarctic expedition (in French)

Machine learning can boost the value of wind energy

From Google blog by Sims Witherspoon & Will Fadrhonc

Carbon-free technologies like renewable energy help combat climate change, but many of them have not reached their full potential. 

Consider wind power: over the past decade, wind farms have become an important source of carbon-free electricity as the cost of turbines has plummeted and adoption has surged. 

However, the variable nature of wind itself makes it an unpredictable energy source—less useful than one that can reliably deliver power at a set time.

In search of a solution to this problem, last year, DeepMind and Google started applying machine learning algorithms to 700 megawatts of wind power capacity in the central United States. 

These wind farms—part of Google’s global fleet of renewable energy projects—collectively generate as much electricity as is needed by a medium-sized city.

Using a neural network trained on widely available weather forecasts and historical turbine data, we configured the DeepMind system to predict wind power output 36 hours ahead of actual generation. Based on these predictions, our model recommends how to make optimal hourly delivery commitments to the power grid a full day in advance.

This is important, because energy sources that can be scheduled (i.e. can deliver a set amount of electricity at a set time) are often more valuable to the grid.

Although we continue to refine our algorithm, our use of machine learning across our wind farms has produced positive results.

To date, machine learning has boosted the value of our wind energy by roughly 20 percent, compared to the baseline scenario of no time-based commitments to the grid.

We can’t eliminate the variability of the wind, but our early results suggest that we can use machine learning to make wind power sufficiently more predictable and valuable.

This approach also helps bring greater data rigor to wind farm operations, as machine learning can help wind farm operators make smarter, faster and more data-driven assessments of how their power output can meet electricity demand.

Results from DeepMind application of machine learning to Google’s wind power

Our hope is that this kind of machine learning approach can strengthen the business case for wind power and drive further adoption of carbon-free energy on electric grids worldwide. 

Researchers and practitioners across the energy industry are developing novel ideas for how society can make the most of variable power sources like solar and wind. 

We’re eager to join them in exploring general availability of these cloud-based machine learning strategies.

Google recently achieved 100 percent renewable energy purchasing and is now striving to source carbon-free energy on a 24x7 basis. 

The partnership with DeepMind to make wind power more predictable and valuable is a concrete step toward that aspiration. 

While much remains to be done, this step is a meaningful one—for Google, and more importantly, for the environment.

I chose fun over drudgery – and ran off to live at sea

‘It is more than I ever thought possible’ ... Susan Smillie on board her boat, Isean.

Photograph: Cat Vinton/The Observer

From The Guardian by Susan Smillie

After a miserable 2014, I knew I had to make more time for myself – and my beloved boat

I don’t make resolutions.
But one year I made an exception.
It was 1 January 2015.
It was the only nod to self-improvement I have ever made – and it changed the course of my life.
Very seriously, I resolved to have more fun.
I had been inspired by the American folk legend Woody Guthrie, whose 1943 resolutions had come to light, a list full of such gems as “dream good” and “dance better”.
Yes, I thought.
Focus on what brings you joy – if that isn’t improvement, I don’t know what is.
(I would humbly suggest this is even more pertinent as the cruel joke that is 2020 comes to a close.)

I had had a tough year, having taken on a difficult project on top of a demanding full-time job and spent the months leading up to Christmas working so hard I barely slept.
When I did sleep, I dreamed of the ocean (unsurprisingly, given I was writing a book about sea nomads in my spare time).

The stupid thing, though, was that I hadn’t been in the sea – where I am happiest – once that summer.
I had my beloved little boat, Isean, in Brighton; my job was in London.
I would usually spend whatever free time I had there, swimming, fishing, floating around.
This year I hadn’t been to see her once.
Sunny weekends were spent indoors working; the summer passed without me really noticing it.
And I had been miserable.

Having more fun was, for me, always going to mean having more fun with Isean – but that required effort.
I sailed, but I wasn’t a confident sailor.
I would go out on calm days in Brighton, where there are few hazards and not much need for knowledge of navigation or tides.
I dreamed of sailing Isean properly – maybe crossing the Channel to France, an exciting but distant goal.
In the meantime, I dreamed of being confident enough to leave the marina overnight, to make passage plans, to go out to anchor in beautiful quiet bays – to really have fun with my boat.

Over the remainder of that winter, I kept to my resolution.
In January, as it froze outside, I sat in the warmth, having geeky fun with charts, practising navigation, measuring distances and tidal ranges, dreaming of where it could take me.

It took me west.
I remember so clearly the day my friend and I set off from Brighton.
It was mid-March 2015, cold, drizzly, misty.
I made the classic mistake of underestimating how long it would take, setting off late, sailing too slow.
By the time we reached Littlehampton, we were fighting against strong tides, wondering whether we would clear the sandbar to get into the harbour.
We did – just.

I will never forget my excitement and pride.
At a restaurant later, I wanted to tell everyone that I had sailed there, as if it had been an epic journey (it was a mere 15 nautical miles).
I carried on after that, couldn’t turn back, took Isean to the hardest place I could think of to learn: the Solent, with its mighty tides, strong winds, shifting sandbanks, ships, ferries, hovercrafts.
“So you want to go somewhere stressful to sail?” my friend asked.
It will be fun, I reasoned.

I didn’t turn back.
I kept going west, to Land’s End, Cornwall, then south.
I am writing from a desolate anchorage in Greece.
I quit my job and ran off to live at sea.
This morning, I was underwater, scraping barnacles from my hull, a school of curious sea bream following me.
It is not everyone’s idea of fun, but it is more than I ever thought possible.