For my 2007 Polar Expedition we were a team of three: myself, my mother Jan, and my good friend from university and the Army Richard Profit.
It involved walking and skiing 350 nautical miles through temperatures that dropped as low as -68o C. We reached the Magnetic North Pole after 24 days on the ice, during which we survived the worst ice conditions for years, slush and open water, and a near catastrophic tent fire which almost ended our adventure with disaster.
Here is a summary of our trip culled from my diary:
Leg One – 65 nautical miles
The first leg was really tough. It took us several days to find our feet and get into a rhythm. Rich and I both skied the whole leg, but Mum struggled to gain confidence on skis and preferred to walk. We all found it incredibly hard going, and really struggled to get the miles out. In particular, we found that while Mum was perfectly capable of plodding on with her pulk (sled), she was very slow. This was quite worrying, as time was a real issue. We weren’t racing, but the reality of logistics and flights meant that we couldn’t afford to be too slow or we risked simply running out of time. The trouble was, at the start we didn't know how slow was too slow. The first few days we managed less than 10 nautical miles a day, which just wasn't enough.
It was depressing - we were all tired and dirty, and on day three I started to worry. Two things were preying on my mind: firstly, it didn't seem to take to much wind to really impair our ability to function. The wind could be bitter and when it hit us we all suffered badly (but especially Mum and her hands). Secondly, we were just too slow. Even in the benign conditions and on flat ice we experienced on Day 2 we didn't seem to be able to get above 10 Nmiles a day. Frankly I was depressed and contemplating failure and we'd barely begun. We were all pretty miserable that night - lost in our personal exhaustion and wondering how far we'd get before having to quit. There was some excitement on Day 2 when we learned that one of the other teams had had a very close encounter with two polar bears, who actually played with and damaged their pulks! We had mixed feelings about bears - we wanted to see one, but not too close!
On Day 4 things changed. We knew we had to up our mileage but we had a bad morning - Rich broke a ski binding, Mum got really cold trying to ski for an hour before going back to walking and we hit a nasty rubble field which really slowed us down and tired us out. In the afternoon I decided to try something. I unclipped Mum's pulk and clipped it to the back of mine like a train. It was heavy (I later estimated it to weigh around 75kg combined), but I could haul it. More importantly, I could haul it faster than Mum could - and without it she was much faster. We still had a poor run that day, but it was a turning point in my confidence. That morning I'd despaired of us even finishing. This simple acting of pulling two pulks for the afternoon gave me strength - from that moment I knew we could make it.
I took Mum's pulk again on Day 5 for an exhausting day, with cold winds and low cloud making visibility difficult, and we managed far more respectable 12.5 Nmiles. We knew Jock (the race organiser) had hoped we'd reach Checkpoint One by Day 5, but it wasn't to be. However we put in a massive effort on Day 6 and covered 14.5 Nmiles to arrive at the first checkpoint just after 5pm. It was a really emotional moment. A few days earlier we'd been questioning our ability to get even this far. Now we'd done it and been greeted by all the other teams who lined up and cheered us in. As soon as we'd crossed the line, our pulks were taken from us and a group of the others quickly put our tent up for us.
The first hurdle was over. We were given the option of starting straight away on Day 7, 
but we felt we needed the day to rest. All of the other teams opted to wait too, so that we could all start together on Monday. Unfortunately, our longed for day of rest was not to be. In the afternoon, there was an accident with the stove and some fuel vapour ignited, causing a fireball that ripped through the tent. It melted large holes in the inner and outer of the tent, destroyed several stuff sacks and a seating cushion, and badly scorched two sleeping bags – including burning a hole in mum’s which she was in at the time. Richard literally caught fire. His arms were alight for several long seconds. He was lucky to get away with only minor burns to his hand. Later, we learned that a Japanese adventurer who was crossing the region solo had a similar tent fire on the same day as us. He was not so lucky. He had to be evacuated by air with severe burns to his face and arms. It wasn’t until we took the tent down later, and saw how the entire inner had melted to the poles, that we realised just how lucky we had been.
Following the potentially catastrophic tent fire, instead of relaxing we spent the 
afternoon moving our kit and spent a cold night in the checkpoint dome tent. The following morning we were able to take one of the checkpoint team's expedition tents and we were back in business. By now we just wanted to get back out on the ice and back into our routine. 0830 Monday morning, Leg 2 (the longest leg) started.
Leg Two – 120 nautical miles
Leg 2 was twice as long as leg 1, and as a result our pulks were heavy with food and fuel. 120 Nmiles of ice lay ahead and we would pass up the side of the Polar Bear National Park. Leg 2 really showed us that we were getting stronger. From the first day we averaged 13 Nmiles a day and although we were tired every night, we weren't exhausted. The going was very hard for the first few days, with miles of rubble and boulders. We all walked together rather than skied and on several days we struggled forwards against a bitter arctic wind. Mum did brilliantly on this leg, and pulled her own pulk the entire 120 Nmiles. Once again we were disappointed not to see much wildlife. Only we and the Brass Monkeys didn't actually see a Polar Bear! We saw tracks most days: polar bears, arctic foxes and wolves!
Then for several days we experienced temperatures that were unseasonably hot (barely -10C), which bizarrely proved to be a real problem. We all overheated and suffered badly from dehydration. All of our drinking water had to be made every night by melting snow, and we carried it in thermos flasks which had extra insulation added by wrapping them in old foam sleeping mats. So we were severely limited in how much water we could carry, and the warm weather really took it out of us.
Another problem with the ‘warm’ weather was the snow. The worst conditions underfoot for us was soft, deep snow. Frozen ground or firm ice was ideal, but when the snow was soft it gripped our pulks like glue and made them feel twice as heavy. Also, with Mum not skiing, it was very hard for her to walk through the soft snow drifts – she was effectively wading through deep snow which was slow and tiring. The soft snow was also treacherous – it hid holes and cracks in the ice.
On day two of leg two, I heard a strange noise and stopped the others. It sounded like a child or animal screaming a long way away. Then it shifted in tone, and seemed to move closer. It took a few moments to realise that it was the ice sheet flexing and moving. The ice was literally singing to us!
One of the things that struck me on this leg was how the scenery and terrain would change every few days. We moved from rubble field to following the beach along Bathurst Island, hitting smooth flat ice. My image of the arctic had been one of uniform whiteness but in fact the variety of scenery is stunning. One danger in the arctic is open water and we were concerned to see liquid water on several occasions. One evening as we pitched the tent Rich and I dug down a foot and came across slush and open water! We quickly filled the hole! Then on Day 13 I left the tent first thing, shovel in hand, to go for my morning 'ablutions'. I walked 10m and ended up, up to my ankles in water! I backtracked pretty quickly!
Our morale was much higher during leg 2 and apart from aching backs we were in pretty good shape. The only exception were Mum's heels - her boots had worn holes in both of her boot inners and worn nasty blisters on her heels. We were being held together by zinc oxide tape and ibuprofen! We still needed to improve our mileage for the last two legs but we were now confident that we would make it. We intended to push ourselves harder, because we planned to make it to the pole and STAND ON TOP OF THE WORLD.
Leg Three – 75 nautical miles
Once we’d finished leg two, the longest leg, things were supposed to get easier – but in the end leg three proved to be the hardest so far. We set off from check point two at 1015 on Tue 24 April (day 16 since the start of the race), and immediately hit a bad rubble field. The whole of the first day was a horrible bash through the worst kind of terrain – rubble covered in soft, deep snow. The light quality in the morning was also very poor – a dull grey that sucked the contrast out of the terrain and made it difficult to see the dips and mounds. We literally stumbled our way through the ice boulders at a painfully slow pace. By the afternoon, our progress was so poor that I took mum’s pulk again and we tried to power walk some extras miles out of the last few hours of the day. We managed to scrape out 11.2 Nmiles, which was disappointing. We had calculated that we needed to average over 14 Nmiles a day on this leg.
That night, I had a long chat with Jock about timings. We needed to know the last safe day we could arrive at checkpoint three. It turned out we had to complete this leg in another four days – that meant three 16 Nmile days and one 15 Nmile day. We’d have to really reach deep inside ourselves and find the strength to walk further than we’d yet managed, four days in a row. From here on in, I pulled two pulks – mine and mum’s – for the rest of the trip. If you’d asked me before the race if I was strong enough to haul two pulks across the kind of terrain we were crossing for over 12 hours a day, I would have said no. It’s amazing what reserves of strength you find when you really have to. There have been several times in my life when I’ve worried that my strength would fail me, but when the stakes are high enough, it never has.
As it was, we managed two 16 Nmile days which were exhausting, before receiving some very bad news. Due to poor ice conditions the checkpoint team hadn’t managed to land at the planned checkpoint location. As a result we had three extra miles to do! What a kick in the teeth. We now needed to do two 17 Nmile days to get there on time. It was exhausting, but we managed it.
Our bodies really started to show signs of wear and tear on this leg. Mum fell badly on the first day and hurt her back, and her boots gave her some nasty blisters that would 
trouble her for the whole trip. We all had bad chafing on our legs, and the cold was starting to affect our hands – our fingers would tingle at night when they were warm, which is a classic sign of minor cold damage. Richard had a painful knee, and my back and ankle were starting to trouble me. Bizarrely, I also suffered from a cold-burnt tongue. My tongue felt as though I had burnt it on a hot drink, but it was actually caused breathing dry, very cold air in through my mouth while out of breath!
I also found my body craving calories. On the first leg, none of us had finished our day bags at the end of each day (rather than a ‘lunch’, we each had a day bag consisting of pieces of chocolate, nuts, biscuits and dried fruit which we’d graze on throughout the day). By leg two I’d started to finish the entire bag. By leg three, I was in danger of finishing it by 4pm – I had to ration myself for the last few hours.
We were very lucky as a team. We knew that we would all get along well, but we maintained our sense of humour and never had a cross word the entire time. And just as important, at no point did we all have a weak day at the same time. At least one of us was always on form to chivvy the others along. We also found that whoever was in front was invariably the strong one – the act of leading seemed to give us strength – while whoever was at the back seemed to lose strength.
We arrived at checkpoint three late on Sat 28 April, and collapsed for a well earned rest – only to start the final leg the following day at 1200.
Leg Four – 60 nautical miles
After enjoying the longest leg (two), and surviving the horrific rubble fields of leg three, there was an end of school atmosphere at the start of the final leg. Everyone seemed to think it was downhill from here on in – we had bested the worst the Arctic could through at us and survived. Four more days, and we’d reach the Pole. How wrong we were.
Day one of the last leg started brilliantly. The weather was glorious, the ice was flat, and we had a fantastic first two hours. Then Mother Nature decided to remind us all who was boss. We hit a rubble field that was by far the worst yet – huge obstacles, tightly packed rubble and very soft, very deep snow concealing ankle-breaking cracks in the ice. Trying to haul two pulks over this was horrible – typically Murphy’s law seemed to decree that the distance between obstacles was usually exactly the same as the length of rope connecting me to my pulk. So I’d struggle over lump of ice several feet high and drop down the other side. Then I’d try to haul myself over the next piece, just as my pulk encountered the first one. I’d be scrambling to get a grip with my feet on the slippery surface, and the line attached to my harness would be taught as my pulk tried to pull me backwards. Then I’d hit a third obstacle, and find both pulks caught on their own lumps of ice at the same time behind me! It was exhausting. We reached the end of the day having managed barely eleven miles, when we needed to be averaging sixteen.
Day two was even worse. The same awful rubble conditions, coupled with very poor 
light. It was worse for mum. She couldn’t ski, and the snow conditions meant that she would fall over quite literally once every 3-4 minutes. Sometimes she’d hit a really bad stretch, and would crawl on her hands and knees for 10 or 20 metres before struggling to her feet. It was painful to watch, but there was nothing I could do except keep struggling on myself.
After 13 hours of walking, we had managed only eight miles! It was utterly depressing. For the first time since the first leg, we were seriously talking about the possibility of failure. At this speed, we simply wouldn’t make it to the Pole in time. We had no way of knowing how long the rubble would last – it might have been like that all the way to the Pole. Jock later told us these were the worst ice conditions for years. As it was, Mother Nature was teaching us a lesson, but not a terminal one.
On day three we started off still struggling through the appalling terrain, but within an hour it started to thin. We had a very long way to go, but the conditions improved throughout the day, the weather was glorious, and soon we were speeding along as quickly as we could over flat, firm ice. It was a godsend. We went from the worst ice conditions we’d seen to the best, just when we needed it. Now we had to take advantage of it to get back on schedule. We exhausted ourselves that day, but we covered an amazing 20.5 Nmiles by 2115! We were back on track to finish the leg in four days. We still had the Noice Peninsular to cross, which was a bit of an unknown entity, but we only had 18.3 Nmiles to go to reach the Pole. However long it took, we vowed to do that in one day.
As it was, the peninsular was easier than we’d feared. It was a beautiful and rugged landscape of gentle hills and valleys that we crossed in poor weather conditions – a strong icy wind and poor light. Towards the end of the day we were snowed on for the first time, but we were determined to finish the trip that day. At 2125 we successfully reached the Magnetic North Pole, setting two Guinness World Records: Mum was the oldest woman to reach the Pole by foot, and we were the first mother and son team to reach any Pole! We had done it. We were on top of the world!
I lost one and a half stone in 24 days, and I am currently sporting a beard that would make Old Labour proud. All three of us are hobbling around (our bodies seemed to know exactly when they could give up – and have done so!!), but we’re delighted to be back in the UK where water comes out of a tap, we don’t wake up covered in frost, and going to the toilet isn’t a daily torture! 
