Since returning, I’ve been asked numerous times whether there was any difference or even disadvantage in being female and racing to the North Pole. In fact, my toilet habits seem to be a great source of interest – I’ll address all lavatorial issues shortly. With the exception of not being to easily go ‘to the loo’, I can honestly answer that ‘no’ there was no obvious disadvantage to being female. According to our instructorsduring the initial training in Norway, there are actual documented advantages to being female racing under extreme Polar conditions:

a) Women are able to store and retain body fat more easily than men which means we don’t feel the cold so badly.  I’m not entirely sure about this one. Tom lost a great deal more weight than I did, but a glance at Jill’s sinewy stomach post-race hinted that there wasn’t a lot of fat keeping her warm.

b) Women have a higher threshold for withstanding discomfort than men. Again, I’m not sure about this. I cannot even begin to imagine the pain that Ian suffered during the 110k between the start and CP1. I am quite sure that I would have stopped significantly earlier than Ian…..

c) Women are more motivated to prove their ability than men. This was 100% true for me. Right from the point of signing up for the challenge, I had wanted to learn whether or not I would be able to keep up with the boys – not completing the race would have been an utter failure for me. Tom accurately pointed out that the girls had a 100% race completion success rate. Although I never discussed this with Jill, I am quite sure that this had partly to do with a keen determination to prove that we were just as capable as the boys

And so to the question of toilet habits. Inside the tent, Ian and Tom were able to master ‘peeing-into-a-bottle-whilst-lying-in-a-sleeping-bag’. I was hugely  jealous of this skill, which also had two clear additional advantageous outcomes – 1) a self-made hot water bottle and 2) not having to leave the comfort of a warm sleeping bag. I had a number of options available to me: learn to be a master of the she-wee/bottle combination (I had practised this as part of my training regime, but in reality this proved too dangerous an operation in such a confined space), go outside the tent (too cold)…eventually, Ian and Tom very kindly granted me permission to use the tent vestibule as my own private toilet area. Lots of you have asked about the potential dangers of loo frostbite. All I shall say is that there was more danger of frostbite to the fingers than any other part of my body. Holding toilet roll in gloves is not easy.

Right, moving on, I think.

When I’m asked ‘how did the race go?’, I really struggle to be able to sum up an answer in a sentence. It was the toughest thing I have ever done, both physically but even more psychologically. The months of training meant that I rarely struggled physically. There were some moments though: when the pulk felt extremely heavy, and Tom or Ian very kindly relieved me of some of the weight I was carrying or the severe sleep deprivation towards the end of the race. For me, the toughest part of the race was controlling the negative thoughts running through your mind – how about a few more hours sleep, how about keeping the stoves on for 10 minutes longer, how about stopping for an extra 5 minutes at a food break. The environment is so extreme, it’s hard to imagine just how cold ‘cold’ really is unless you’ve experienced it 24*7 over 18 days. There is absolutely no relief, no let up and that starts to play with your mind. A friend tried to relate this back to a day of skiing on the slopes. At the end of a cold day, you can return to the comfort of a hot shower, heated room and order a hot chocolate. Not so at the North Pole. The cold was relentless and with it, there was an absolute need to ensure that you and your team mates were managing the cold at all times. Not managing the cold and not respecting the environment could be the difference between losing a finger or getting hypothermia. Constantly monitoring yourself and your teammates was exhausting. I’d be constantly asking myself ‘are my fingers warm enough?’, ‘is any part of my face exposed to the elements?’, ‘am I sweating too much and will I feel cold when I stop?’ Once I knew I was OK, I’d glance over at Ian and Tom to see if they were OK. At all times, I felt very safe in the knowledge that they were also checking to see how I was doing. There were a couple of scary moments when it was clear that the cold weather was getting the better of us. I think Ian wrote about this, but on the walk to the start line, Tom skied up alongside me and pointed out that my right cheek looked white and waxy. As he stopped to look, Conrad (one of the instructors) joined us and in an authoritative voice said ‘right, that’s not good’ and promptly put the heel of his hand on my cheek to get some life back into it. While doing so, he matter of factly informed both Tom and I that ’20 minutes later and you’d be scarred for life’ – that shook me up somewhat, but in retrospect I was glad to have learned this lesson so early in the race. From then on, we adopted a team buddy system, checking each other after every break to see whether any part of our face was exposed.

There were a couple of clear moments during the race, where panic kicked in and I had severe doubts whether or not I would be able to finish the race. The first was the episode above. The fact that it could be so easy for the cold weather to have such an effect on you and without me being aware of it scared me. I wasn’t sure I could manage the cold for another ‘x’ days. For the rest of that day, I was over-analysing my body temperature and in the evening, once in our tent and sleeping bags (still shivering), I felt a strong desire to give up, quit the race and get back to the warmth of our hotel in Resolute Bay. It took some time to rationalize my thoughts, to logically think through that we had all the equipment we needed to stay warm and alive and that the only reason I was panicking was because I was letting myself panic. It was all in my head. I had a couple of similar moments later in the race, but all it took to calm down was simply to take a couple of deep breaths, remember that I had great team-mates who’d look after me and that we had everything we needed with us to survive.

The second episode was the Polar bear encounter. Right from the outset, this was the biggest issue for me. I’d seen brown bears in the wild before, seen how large they are and how seemingly unpredictable their behaviour could be. I was not pleased at the prospect of coming across a polar bear. It was day 2 coming out of Checkpoint 1 and we were making our way across some particularly difficult terrain, with low line of sight and large icebergs. I had said to Tom the previous day, that I didn’t like the ice rubble and if I were a polar bear, this would be a great place to hang out. We were a couple of hours into the day’s trek and we could see some flat ice ahead of us. Jill was leading, I was in the middle and Tom was bringing up the rear. Jill stopped and pointed out some ice disturbance to our right. It was clearly odd looking, being grey and black in colour as opposed to the usual blue and white. And then in the same instance we saw (also to our right) some large footprints in the deep snow. We’d often come across Team Chilled Out’s tracks during the race, so Jill and I started joking about ‘not again’….on closer inspection, the tracks were extremely fresh and very deep and very large and not at all like human footprints. Without a doubt, these were polar bear tracks. I turned to Tom and said ‘these are fresh bear tracks’ to which he responded (in not very polite terms) that we should get the **** out of here as quickly as possible. So that’s what we started doing, until we spotted the bear about 50 metres to the left of us. As Tom pointed out later, we were now between it and what might have been it’s kill hole/home to the right of us (the grey patch of ice). Without thinking about it, we all executed the polar bear drill taught to us during training. We shouted at the bear, removed our skis, kept close to one another (to trick the bear into thinking we were one large animal, not three small animals), blew on our whistles….Jill continued to clap her skis above her head while Tom fired off a flare and while I prepared the gun. The bear kept a close eye on us, moved a little from side to side to get a better idea of what we were. Tom’s flare went off rather like a party popper. A little pop and whiz, which the bear didn’t respond to. As a team we agreed to fire a warning shot in the air. I let off a shot and the bear looked into the air a little bemused, but not scared. With the team still shouting and whistling, I let off a second warning shot – the bear looked into the sky, but still didn’t move off. Around this time, it also decided to take several decisive steps forward towards us. I was now shaking uncontrollably and was extremely scared that I wouldn’t be able to keep calm and keep an accurate line of fire. I was also scared that the bear was going to charge us. Tom and Jill shouted for me to reload. The bear drills indicated that if the bear continued to come towards us, we would have to ‘shoot to kill’ – I needed to make sure the gun was fully loaded. There was no doubt in my mind that I would shoot the bear dead if I had to.  As a team, we made the decision to fire a shot into the snow in front of the bear. Unbelievably, I managed a decent shot into the snow. The snow sprayed up in front of the bear and it took a couple of steps backwards and then very slowly padded off further off to our left and behind a large iceberg. As it hid behind the iceberg, Tom took lead of Jill and I. He instructed us to walk away slowly off the bear’s territory and onto the flat ice ahead of us. We kept close to one another, walked off slowly, while I cradled the gun in my arms, ready to shoot at the bear if he came out of his hiding place. All I could think about was that this was the scariest thing I had ever experienced. That I wanted a helicopter to transport me off the ice immediately. That I didn’t want to continue the race. That the bear could track us down for the rest of the day. That we could see another bear in 10 minutes time. My legs were shaking almost uncontrollably and I wanted to cry and simply quit. I have no idea whether Tom was as scared as I was, but he seemed calm and was saying the right things to ease my concerns – he was being the voice of reason. I also knew that there was no chance of being able to quit. We were 1-2 days from checkpoint 1 and at least 2 days from checkpoint 2. We weren’t injured or in serious danger. No-one was going to come and airlift us out of here. We had a gun and we would use it if we had to. I think on the outside I looked in control, but I was absolutely terrified inside. Once onto the flat ice, we kept a close eye behind us, watching to see if the bear would track us. It came out of it’s hiding place behind the iceberg and lay down near the black ice disturbance to watch us walk out of it’s territory. All I can say is that it took almost three hours of walking/skiing for the adrenaline to wear off.

I want to address the question of motivation to complete the race. At the beginning, I wanted to prove to myself and to everyone else very simply that I could finish. After Ian left the team, my motivation changed. By the start of the race, we had raised a huge sum of cash for CSC. We had received donations from you – individual supporters (friends, work colleagues and family), generously donating out of your own pocket. With Ian off the team, I felt a huge responsibility for Tom and me to finish the race on behalf of Team CSC. I remember imagining what it might be like to not finish – it wouldn’t be right to accept your donations if we didn’t finish. As the race progressed, it was imperative that Tom and I finished to earn your respect and to earn the right to accept your donations towards CSC. I know that this was what helped pushed me over the finish line (and I believe this was the same for Tom). When Andy Harvey passed on Ian’s message to Tom and me at the finish line – that we had exceeded our donation target and raised over USD 130,000 – it all felt worthwhile.

So what have I learnt from my experience? I have learnt that I love being part of a close-knit team. I have learnt that I love the simplicity of getting up in the morning with a defined singular objective (I have to thank Tom for highlighting this point – its something he mentioned again and again). I have learnt that no decision in life is as tough as a life and death decision – and that most of the decisions we encounter in life should be viewed as opportunities. I have learnt that I am much more strong-willed and determined than I knew I was.  I have learnt that it’s the simplest things in life that give you the most pleasure. The list goes on.

And of course, there are ‘thank you’s’……Thank you to Ian (our very own Arctic Hobo) and to Tom for so many things. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to join the team – I would never have considered entering such an extreme race if you hadn’t thought of me and invited me into the team. Thank you for looking after me. There was never a moment when I didn’t feel 100% safe in the knowledge that you were looking out for me. Thank you for your humour and for being able to make light of very testing situations.

I also want to say a big thank you to Graham for encouraging me to sign up and for supporting me throughout my preparations. And a ‘thank you’ to Mr and Mrs Jones for your support, for passing on some great ‘self discipline’ genes and for your wonderful letters at the checkpoints.

Finally, ‘thank you’ to all of you for your generosity and support and for the incredible achievement of raising such a huge sum of cash for an amazing charity.

Share this post!

Share this post!

All through the superb training and build up it had been stressed regularly that, while fitness was important for this journey, this was going to be predominantly a psychological challenge. We did our utmost to prepare ourselves for this mentally and in the event it was this preparation that got us through to the finish – although for me the descriptive power of “challenge”, in hindsight, just doesn’t seem to cut it.

Last thing I think I actually saw on the way to the Pole

At the Pole

I came an awful lot further on this journey than the 600 kilometres of the race itself. For myself, and for anyone not wholly weary of our novice polar exploits, I’ve tried to capture some of this below and have to beg forgiveness for the over indulgence. Much of it is still sinking in so I best reserve the right to revise this completely in the future. In case one of us doesn’t have the patience to get to the end of this piece I should start with this. The overriding revelation that just grew and grew during this journey and is more powerful still in contemplation is of the utter and wonderful dependence we had on the support and contribution of others to achieve our goals. My expectation had been that, if we did indeed make it through, being stuck out on our own in an extreme environment, miles from anyone or anything and cut off from all inward communication for long periods would inspire the most incredible self belief. In a way it has but just not in a way I could possibly have foreseen. At every turn along this journey I’ve had input and support that I simply couldn’t have done without. A family that would give me the love and the time to do this. The invaluable training and expedition support of Extreme World Races and the input of Martin and Stuart who had taken on this challenge previously and were able to guide our expectations. A company that would give me the time off and ultimately great support. We would never have got to raise the funds we were able to, or to reach as many people with the journey, without Ian’s ability and drive and I can’t even be sure that I would have signed up for this incredible challenge without the support of two team mates who had enough confidence in me (I’m still incredulous) to want to form a team with me and were then able to help me through it. The money raised for the Children’s Surgical Centre, which is by far my proudest achievement from the experience, is all the kind donations of others who have chosen to give up their money, time and support. The full list goes on extensively from here. Ultimately the revelation is that there simply is no success in isolation. The ego doesn’t like this so much but once you get past that it’s enlightening and a wonderful feeling to have experienced this first hand and so very clearly. So. Very simply. And very heartfelt. Thankyou. Thankyou to such a long list of everyone who has contributed to what, for me, has been an incredible experience.

From the time we stepped onto the ice sleep would prove to be one of the biggest issues. The race this year proved to be the coldest for 7 years and while we learnt to keep warm when moving and during brief stops time in the sleeping bag was simply torture. We’d been warned that coming from the heat of Singapore and Australia would mean it would take us longer to acclimatise and by the time we got to the start line we’d had precious little actual sleep. Some evenings it was none and on a number of occasions when I did drop off briefly I’d wake with solid toes or fingers scared stiff (no pun intended) that they’d been like that for a while and wouldn’t be returning. At best part of my back or face was continuously complaining bitterly about the cold. The upside of this was that you looked forward to being out of the tent and moving – not a bad thing when you have 600Km to cover.

The dubious wonders of sublimation

Despite the 24 hour daylight it was considerably colder during the evenings. We’d decided to continuously extend the travelling day and travel through the evenings so try to get the planned 4 to 6 hours sleep during the day when it was, relatively speaking, warmer. We knew we weren’t quick on the ice so our strategy had to be to do longer days than everyone else. This meant when Ian’s feet just got too bad too continue and he really needed to stop it was 5am. By then Ian had gone right across Bathhurst Island with boots that, due to swollen feet, were now two sizes too small and had done untold damage to his heels and toes. The wind had picked up and we couldn’t safely pitch the tent on the ridge of the island so we clambered down a steep gully with the pulks out in front of us. This left us in a bit of a wind tunnel but it looked like this continued for at least a few more miles. We were keen not to do any more damage to Ian’s feet than absolutely necessary so we put up the tent, ate, made water and slept. This meant we were pulling pole at about 5pm. By 8pm the temperature would have dropped significantly once again. Stops would have to be short and if the tent needed to go up again we’d have to be quick with no mistakes. We got ready to go and talked through the planned tent down procedure a couple of times. The last time we’d taken the tent down in winds like these in practise we’d broken two poles and put one of them through the tent lining. If that happened now we were in trouble. We got out of the tent in the strongest wind we’d experienced, clearly compounded by our rather rapidly chosen location. The tents are very strong once erected and are designed to withstand high winds but they’re a flapping sail once you take out lines and poles. Not knowing how quickly we may need to put the tent back up and that it could be during the coldest period potentially in the same or stronger wind (anytime in the next twelve hours) compounded a strong sense of unease. We were still looking to win by sheer perseverance at this point but weren’t looking to take unnecessary risk. I just didn’t feel comfortable with the risk and said so to Ian and Georgie. The task allocation we’d agreed meant everything to do with the tent was my responsibility and to their credit they accepted this and we got back into the tent knowing this was very likely to cost us any chance of a race win. We called it in and the race organisers agreed it was always best to be safe than sorry but also had to stress that there was a cut off time for CP1 irrespective of our situation. They would need to move personnel to CP2 and the finish at the prescribed time which told us not everyone was in our situation. Unless they’d also been travelling at night they wouldn’t be. We tried to get some more sleep while we sat out the wind but were all pretty restless as well as cold. It was sinking in that an early stop plus the extended tentbound time could have cost us a finish. Have to say as the thought of being taken off at CP1 begun to sink in and I realised just how much I wanted to finish this I was close to tears. We were supposed to be sleeping but the atmosphere was clear it wasn’t just me feeling this low.

By 5am the wind wasn’t much better but was likely 15 to 20 degrees warmer. We now had little choice and actually performed the best tent drill we’d ever managed. I wasn’t looking forward to trying to put it back up but one step at a time. Ian’s covered some of this but for me it was such a strong mark of the team spirit and commitment we’d built up between us that I was never asked to second guess the decision to try to sit out the high wind or made to question or feel bad about it. This was even when it had looked like it may have contributed to having us exit the race.

Another five hour sunset. By the end of the race the sun was never below 25 degrees off the horizon

Never lose your face mask......

When we got into CP1 we’d seen a plane leaving but weren’t sure who was on it. We met Jill from Team Blue Eyes who told us that they’d tried to put up their tent in close to the same place (actually higher on the edge of Bathhurst Island before the gully) and had broken a pole. Jim, Jill’s teammate, had suffered frostbite fixing the pole in the boffi bag and was taken off the race at CP1. I was sorry for Jim who was a great guy and it strengthened the resolve not to take any unnecessary risks. We wanted to do well but this wasn’t a marathon and we couldn’t stop and walk away when we hit trouble. Unless we were unusually lucky, we would hit trouble. Often “us versus the elements” just didn’t seem like a very even competition.

It was the right decision for Ian not to continue but it was a massive blow. Ian had been the instigator of the project and it had been 18 months of hard work and planning for all of us. We were a great team. We were united in determination but we’d also been able to regroup and regoal when we’d hit set-backs earlier in the race. As a team in this environment, sharing every waking and sleeping minute together and having to continue to operate effectively when you are all tired and uncomfortable, you have to be a tight unit and you have to be working to a common goal. We’d set out to win; to use longer working hours to compensate for lack of speed on the ice and to ensure that we kept pulling through throughout the race when we suspected other teams would begin to tire. When events moved against any real chance of winning we were almost immediately able to reorientate around a strong, competitive finish. At the time I was grateful not to have to watch a great friend put himself through more miles of intense pain. How Ian managed 110 kilometres on crippled feet I simply have no idea. Ian’s determination and mental strength is unquestioned and would be hard to match. I was pleased he wouldn’t be putting himself through more pain but it was devastating blow to the team and the project not to be crossing the line together. Having to say goodbye 10 miles out of CP1 was undoubtedly the low point of the journey and it was hard not to let this hang over us. Although it was always a possibility that one of us would have to withdraw I actually wasn’t well prepared mentally for this. We still had over 250 kilometres to go and couldn’t afford the negativity that was hanging over us that evening. I guess we have to thank a run in with a polar bear the next morning for bringing us crashing back into the reality of our situation and our clear and present need to knuckle down and get the remainder of the job done safely.

We’d camped in some major ice rubble, which we’d been working through all day, at our first stop out of CP1. About an hour after we’d decamped towards the edge of a clearing Georgie and Jill stopped and turned to me to point out very fresh bear tracks. Georgie’s white face clearly wasn’t because of the cold. We hadn’t moved twenty metres past these tracks when a polar bear appeared from the rubble about 40 meters to our left. We’d been through the bear drill a number of times in training and got straight into it. There was no lack of incentive. We made a heap of noise, shouting and banging ski’s together, letting off the flares and putting a warning shot into the air. Polar bears have no natural predators but their instincts still ensure they’re cautious of the unfamiliar. It listened and watched us with some interest but eventually seemed to decide we were odd but probably lunch anyway and started to pad towards us fairly rapidly. Not charge, fortunately, but still start towards us with intent. It certainly didn’t look like it was coming over for a cuddle. We knew from training that a shot that made the snow jump up in front of the bear was most likely to scare it off and Georgie was able to put the third shot about 10 meters in front of it and spray snow towards it. This was enough for it to back away and move behind the rubble, still fairly close but out of sight. We then, gun in hand, had to move slowly away. We knew from training that any quick movements away from the bear at any point would make us seem like prey and were unlikely to end well (for us) and if polar bears truly can sense fear it is a wonder we are still alive.

In the training drill the spray shot fails to work, the bear charges and you are forced to use a kill shot. Our spray shot had worked and now we had a polar bear close behind us and we were trying to walk unsteadily through deep snow, still dragging our pulks – Georgie still carrying a loaded and cocked gun with the safety catch off. The gun never has the safety on in case it freezes and jams and never comes into the tent in case condensation similarly causes it to jam. Georgie had stated from the outset that meeting a bear was her worst fear of the expedition and this is why she had wanted to carry the gun. She said as we were trying to walk away that she was shaking and we’d got about 100 meters into the clearing when the bear came out behind us. It stopped but opened its jaws wide and put them into the air. Figuratively speaking, and having been surprisingly calm until now, I lost about a kilo instantly at this point. It certainly wasn’t this clear at the time but basically now three things could happen: The bear could charge, it could stalk us (bears can happily stalk prey from the horizon for over 20 miles) or it could let us leave, marking its territory behind us. Another 30 meters on, probably 3 to 4 minutes (obviously at the time about a fortnight) it hadn’t moved forward and was still watching us. Another 300 meters and it was out of sight. Another 500 meters and the ski’s went on and the gun nervously back into the valise (its cover). The gun stays loaded (not cocked) safety catch off and on top of the pulk at all times when travelling and is never far from reach which, not surprisingly at this point, was also not close enough. Whilst travelling you are required to scan the horizon regularly for any sign of movement to limit the chance of a bear, rather too literally, taking you unawares. You also travel fairly close together and avoid letting one of the group break away. The loose one of the herd looks particularly tasty apparently. We were looking behind us regularly all through the expedition but for the rest of the day we were pretty much owls as we stretched our necks continuously to see whether we were being tracked. There was a lot more ice rubble to come that day where visibility is reduced significantly and a bear, or the bear, could be meters away unseen. Suffice to say, again figuratively speaking, a fair bit more weight was lost travelling through this.

As we were walking away, with the bear still in sight I can remember saying “When we’re safely at home we will have preferred this to have happened. This is an experience we’ll never forget. You’re both doing fantastically”. It was a lot easier to concentrate on how the others were feeling than think too much about how I was. It was also true. Georgie and Jill handled themselves brilliantly throughout and, in hindsight, it added a huge amount to the expedition to have confronted a polar bear in the wild. When Georgie made our schedule call later that day and described the event it was Dave Martin, one of the EWR Directors, on the line. He simply said “You were lucky”. Both connotations stay with me. We were lucky to have experienced it. We were lucky to have come through unscathed.

Lethal Owl

Three evenings later I was awoken being roughly shaken. Georgie and Jill were wide awake listening to scraping sounds against the wall of the tent. They were wide eyed and trying not to make any noise so the communication was accentuated nervous hand gestures. I slept in the middle with my head against the tent entrance where the gun was so there was no question of who was going outside. Delay wasn’t going to help us so as quickly as I could, and pretty much without breathing, I was out of the sleeping bag, had unzipped and exited the tent door and with a loaded and cocked gun in hand spun round to the direction of the noise to meet whatever I had coming to me. I remember, heart absolutely thumping, thinking “Please, not now, not like this. Do what you need to do. Survive”. First glance told me it could have been a polar bear but it would have had to be an awfully long way away. Actually it was a lemming, about the size of a large fat mouse, looking up the barrel of my loaded shot gun from about two feet away. It held my gaze above the extended barrel and as far as I could tell held an expression that seemed to say “Is that entirely necessary?”. I decided that, no, it probably wasn’t. The little fella stayed with us while we ate our breakfast porridge and I think would have stayed with us for the rest of the race (and likely eaten through much of the tent) if we hadn’t had to chase him away as we packed up. In our four weeks on the ice these were the only two living creatures I saw. Both, at least initially, absolutely terrifying. One of them with good reason. I can remember what Gary, one of our instructors had said during one of the polar bear drills. He’d been asked whether he was nervous of being attacked by a polar bear as he’s seen a good few. “Yes” he said “but I’m always far more nervous about being shot accidentally by one of you”.

The shotgun for this little fella? Overkill, literally.

Ian, Georgie and myself had worked together for years and had spent a lot of time in training and preparation. The team dynamics were excellent and it was always going to be difficult to accept a new team member and difficult for a new team member to join the team. Jill proved to be, physically, one of the hardiest people on the ice and it was more the emotional side of the race that she was working through. We had some moments between CP1 and 2 but had the time to work these through during the stop at CP2 from which point we worked extremely well as a team and were able to match the times of the race winners for the final stage. Taking the race on without the support of a team and the events of the expedition itself meant Jill was required to work with different people at different points which can’t have been easy. Ultimately Jill did a great job and stayed strong to a finish she should be immensely proud of.

The arctic environment truly demands continuous attention. I had spent $200 on various audio books wondering how I would pass the time trudging away for up to 18 hours a day. In the event I had the iPod on for not much more than 15 of the 200 travelling hours (it got far more use in the tent scanning through the list of donations which always served to be a fantastic motivator). The environment and you and your team mate’s rather tenuous position in it really do demand your full attention. A poor decision, or indecision, won’t necessarily be fatal but will certainly be painful and can have real consequences. Your focus had to be on minimising the impact of the environment, not on endurance. You can’t endure the cold, you have to avoid or minimise it and this entailed a huge list of almost micro acts that contributed to keeping you as comfortable as possible. As Conrad, our most experienced instructor, said during training when I’d forgotten something fairly basic like putting my hood up on a stop, “Any fool can suffer out here Tom”. The phrase became a bit of a mantra within the team from then on.

I felt and continue to feel particularly sorry for Team Arctix (Andy, Oli and Jay) who seemed a capable and great bunch of guys. They were clearly the fittest team on the ice in regard to physical conditioning and are regulars and serious competitors at more standard ultra endurance events. They made it to CP1 quickly and in the lead (a few hours ahead of Chilled Out the eventual winners) but decided not to continue further. It seems from their description that they were a few hours ahead of the support team into CP1 who had been delayed by a skidoo breakdown and on arriving had been slowed putting their tent up in strong winds. There was nothing physically wrong with any of the team from what I can glean but they weren’t comfortable continuing. This is their story to tell so I’m keen not to guess at events or their orientation but can’t help but worry how leaving the race early without that strong a reason will stay too comfortably with such an ambitious and capable bunch. I wish them all the best and do hope their decision doesn’t come to haunt them and they’re able to take positives from the experience in time. Although it is a competitive situation you share the training and much time on the ice and from the experience can’t help but end up with a particularly strong respect for anyone who’s taken this challenge on. Their statement on their withdrawal here http://www.jayneale.co.uk/).

During training we’d been reminded time and again that this was predominantly a psychological challenge in an extreme environment and we needed to be ready for anything. I’ve had a few early exits over the years in past experiences (for mine you can read “quits”) that don’t sit well and I’d taken many of the “would’ers, could’ers and should’ers” into this event with such a strong sense of not wanting to find or look for any reason not to finish. We’d also had the benefit of some time with previous race competitors. Stuart Lotherington had been first over the line in 2007 and Stuart’s advice was brilliant and regularly came back to me. You simply had to be mentally prepared for anything to happen and when it arose your attitude had to be “We knew something like this could happen. This is what we came here for. How are we going to deal with it”. Disappointment at a turn of events would just fester and any psychological barrier quickly becomes a physical one. Through the strong winds, the blisters, the ice rubble, the broken equipment (I broke my bindings three times) and regularly managed to rip zips, the frozen fingers, the navigation mistakes, the lack of sleep, the tent fires, the polar bear, the faster competitors, the white-outs, the fogged up goggles (grrr), the stomach upset, the fear of your own bowels and the intense fatigue I’m pleased to say this advice came back to me and, usually, was able to bring me around to positive action.

Things just didn't always go to plan..........

I think I put this in one of our diary calls but the stats are pretty clear. The girls had 100% success rate this year, the guys, ehm, rather short of that. Have to say I did get a bit of a push to get on with it from the male ego when both Jill and Georgie were striding out ahead seemingly unaffected by cold or tiredness. I did know that last year’s race had been won by a co-ed team who’d got very close to the record for the event and in hindsight I believe, for a number of reasons, that the team dynamics in a co-ed team have some significant advantages for this event. I have a nine year old daughter and aside from being delighted to have as capable a team mate as Georgie am also very proud to have been able to take on this challenge in a team that made it quite clear this wasn’t a boy’s own adventure. Being unable to keep up with the girls on occasions, not, I should admit, such a strong source of pride.

In sight of the Finish

Team Chilled Out ran a pretty much flawless race. Jamie and Jack had gained some experience of a similar environment on a Patagonian ice cap last year and were well prepared. What struck me most having got to know them was that their attitude to enjoying and getting the most out of the journey was simply the best of any of the teams. Huge congratulations to Jamie and Jack on a well deserved win. I certainly wouldn’t bet against these guys in anything they chose to do.

Our best performance time wise was the final stage which we completed in the same time as the race winners, albeit almost 36 hours behind them overall. It was great to finish strong. We made good time on the last day to the finish across some of the easiest terrain we’d had throughout but I wasn’t much more emotional at the finish than I’d been at the pole and felt pretty flat. Andy and John were manning the finish and congratulated us but I felt more like “Thank God that’s over” than any semblance of elation. Then Andy told us Ian had got the message through that we’d had a big donation come in towards the end of the race that had pushed us over our target to over US$130k. This got a big smile out of me and really lifted my spirits. It looked like we were going to be airlifted out the following morning so Andy and John made us bacon sandwiches and hot chocolates while we drifted in and out of sleep in one of the deserted structures (the finish is by an exploration site perfectly preserved in the cold since it had been abandoned in 1978). We got a few hours sleep and heard the Twin Otter come in for us the next morning. We bundled all our stuff onto the plane and I made our last dairy call and climbed in. The Twin Otter holds about 8 people plus kit. Georgie and I sat at the front of the cabin which was lucky given what was to come. I still felt pretty numb at this point; physically as my hands had got real cold loading up the plane and making the diary call, I honestly couldn’t say why emotionally, just felt very flat. The plane took a while on final prep and taxiing into position, then the throttle went hard down and we quickly got airborne. The second the ski’s came off the snow tears just seemed to well up from nowhere and within seconds I was in floods. Definitely not sadness, just felt like a mixture of euphoria and relief. It was actually a fantastic feeling just totally unexpected. I looked over at Georgie and felt better to see she was in a similar state and maybe I hadn’t finally cracked. Looking back a week later the second the plane’s ski’s came off the snow was the moment when the responsibility lifted for the first time since we’d come onto the ice some 20 days earlier. The intense concentration the environment seemed to demand on your’s and your teammates’ safety was lifted and for the first time in what seemed ages someone else was in charge of our safety from here. We were free to feel the full force of what we’d come through. I will never forget the strength of feeling that just surged through me for the next thirty minutes. I have rarely felt so proud and so humble at the same time. It took nearly three hours to fly back over our journey and I watched every mile out of the window just enjoying trying to take it all in. You could hardly move and the cabin was freezing and drafty but this was still one of the best plane journeys I’ve ever had. Due to the very quick turnaround in Resolute we got into a hotel in Yellowknife after our second plane journey less than eight hours after coming off the ice. All I wanted to do was call my wife but it was then 4am in the morning in Australia and I thought I’d better leave it at least a couple of hours. I started writing a few things down but my thoughts were all over the place so I opened up the email. The first I opened was from Jim at CSC with some messages from kids being treated there who’d been told what we were up to and had wanted to give us their support. As I read through them it would have been hard to have felt happier or luckier.

Now, finally writing this up a week later, comforts that had become unusual are the norm once again. I no longer fear going to the toilet and don’t feel the need to continuously scan the horizon for predators. The sensation on my finger tips is gradually returning (although sending an sms remains a struggle) and I’m still sporting a beard. I’m 8Kg lighter than I was arriving in Resolute in April – despite stuffing my face continuously I still shed 10Kg during the expedition. Unfortunately the weight loss is unlikely to last as from all accounts my body, having been somewhat traumatised, is now likely to suck up and store all and any available fat. So much for the crash diet. The beard, so most people tell me, will need to go so any outward signs of the experience will soon have disappeared. However, I already know the inward impact of the experience will be considerably longer lasting.

From the time our team came together it has been an absolute pleasure and privilege to work with Ian and Georgie. Georgie was somehow able to remain seemingly unflappable throughout with a rare gift to combine stoic resilience and determination with grace and humour. As she had the gun she’s also now in a very select group of people I have to thank for literally saving my life. Fortunately I was able to return the favour by fending off a vicious and terrifyingly aggressive lemming. I know team CSC wouldn’t have achieved half of what we managed without the input and inspiration of Ian and can only hope that not being there at the finish won’t cloud his celebration of the Mullane success Team CSC unquestionably was. I was fabulously lucky to have two such great teammates to share this journey with and can’t thank them enough for their support, determination, patience and humour.

To Presto Expat, Vanda Sports, SunGard and the River Rats my considerable thanks for your support. To all the team at Extreme World Races you offer a fantastic introduction to a genuinely extreme sport and experience that I would recommend to anyone even vaguely considering a similar challenge. To everyone who has supported us and donated time and finances thank you so very much and of course to Jim and the team at CSC who do what you do so very well, every day, you continue to be an inspiration. To Jacky, my wonderful wife, I would never be able to thank you enough for all you’ve given me but if I can finish this and get myself to Heathrow in about twenty four hours from now I’ll finally be back with you in Australia and can at least try.

We're going home

Share this post!

Diary Call (Click to play)

(from extremeworldraces.com)

A huge congratulations to Team CSC and Jill Brangan who have now completed the 2011 Polar Challenge! They have finished in 2nd place behind team Chilled Out and can be immensely proud of their achievement!

The team covered the remaining 17 nautical miles (30km) from the pole to the finish in excellent time to cross the finish line at 1920 (local time). Tom, Georgie and Jill who have been working together since CP1 have found the going tough but have braved all that the Arctic could throw at them. Inspired by reaching the Magnetic North Pole they continued on to the finish and are now eating, rejoicing and sleeping!

Everyone at EWR is extremely proud of the effort and determination demonstrated by this team.

2011 Polar Challenge - Completed

Share this post!

Diary Call (Click to play)

(from extremeworldraces.com)

They have done it!!! Team CSC and Jill have made it to the magnetic North Pole and have put up their tent for a couple of hours of well earned rest! They have 30km left to the finish line and their aim is to do this as quickly and safely as their tired legs will carry them.

Jill Brangan described the area around the Pole as being ‘like an alien landscape’ with lots of pressure ridges forming a spectacular other-worldly place.

Day 15 - Race position - Team CSC at the POLE!

Share this post!

Boosted by the good luck messages they received from friends and family they are fully committed to triumphantly crossing the finish line.

The team have a few more hours on their feet before they tent up so we will keep you informed and post and diary calls as and when they arrive.

Race day 14

Share this post!

Diary Call (Click to play)

(from extremeworldraces.com)

Team CSC put in a tremendous effort today covering 21 nautical miles. Every step the team takes they draw closer and closer to the finish line. They remain strong and in good spirits. I’m sure Chilled Out will welcome the company!

It’s official, Team Chilled Out are the winners of the 2011 Polar Challenge winners! This incredible achievement was confirmed at 8.20am (GMT) today via satellite phone. Tired and elated the team are now sitting in their tent at the finish line working through a range of emotions but mostly working through their food stores!

All of the staff at EWR congratulate Jamie and Jack on their monumental achievement. The training team, who worked closely with the team in Norway, are proud to see the first of their teams home. True to themselves they even took time to congratulate the teams who didn’t make it and offered their support to the teams still out on the ice.

Day 13 - Race position

Share this post!

Diary Call (Click to play)

(from extremeworldraces.com)

Day 12 of the race and team CSC have made it in to CP2. Their wish for an Arctic spa was just a mirage. They did however, receive a bacon sandwich on arrival which raised their spirits tremendously. They expect to reach the Pole in 2 days and then 2 more to the finish.

Team Chilled Out have reached the Magnetic North Pole! To this brave team it was more than just a point on the map. It was the realisation of a dream for both Jamie and Jack. They have braved all that the Arctic could throw at them and now they have the finish line in sight!

Day 12 - Race position

Share this post!

• Diary Call (Click to play)

(from extremeworldraces.com)

Day 11 of the race and team CSC should reach CP2 later today and are looking forward to their bacon sandwich and a rest! Still going strong and their spirits are high as they are nearing the pole themselves.

Team Chilled Out are within approximately 7 nautical miles of the magnetic north pole. It was a good start to the day and after 17 hours on their skis they have decided to bed down for the evening. The winds increased steadily through the day and they sensibly decided to tent-up before the conditions became too harsh. They will reach the magnetic North Pole tomorrow and will have eyes on the finish.

Day 11 - Race Position

Share this post!

This probably won’t be read by many people as they will have had “Pole fatigue” from all the postings in the last month. I need to write it though, for me if nobody else. I have deliberately waited a few days since I came off the ice to temper down the emotions I have been feeling and quite frankly to see if my sense of touch would return to my fingers which unfortunately it has not.

These challenges inevitably change you as they force you to confront boundaries, mental and physical, that we exist within on a daily basis. The very nature of a challenge like this forces you to operate under extreme pressure whether that be timelines, sleeplessness, danger, exhaustion, hunger or a multitude of others. Everyone of these and more, I have experienced in the last few weeks. You come out the other side unavoidably a different person as you take on board what you have learnt about yourself. It is not always a comfortable experience but it is essential to developing and building an understanding about yourself and your character. So, here goes a frank portrayal of my 13 days on the ice in high Arctic, warts and all.

The five days before we set off were incredibly busy as we organised equipment, supplies and refreshed on the many proceedures from tent routines to dealing with Polar Bears. We had little time to stop and think and I have subsequently found out from the training team that it is the intention. I do not believe there was any time when we were able to get to bed at a reasonable time or sit and chat casually but that was probably a good thing as it was quickly becoming apparent the scale of the challenge ahead.

Perhaps our first indication of the challenges ahead was our first night out in the Arctic. We has spent nights under canvas in Norway but nothing could have prepared us for the first night this far north. The temperature was at minus 30 and the winds were gusting 40km/hr, so much so that one teams tent did not survive and if that happened on the way to the pole, the consequences could be catastrophic. We got into our sleeping bags that night, unable to talk as our bodies were shivering so violently. We fully expected that once inside the warmth of the bags we would come around but that didn’t happen and for the next 6 hours we confronted the cold and tried to control our reactions to the severity. Georgie and Tom were having a terrible time with it, Tom in particular, so they elected to try sleeping sitting up to limit the amount of their body in contact with the ground like the the Inuit do. We woke up the following morning after maybe a few hours sleep to find the inside of the tent and our sleeping bags covered with ice. We also woke to the realisation that this was about to become our daily reality.

We set off on Saturday 16th April for the start line, a journey that would take five days. Our pulks, the sledges we carry out kit in, were fully laden for the first time and we immediately got to feel the demands we would have put on our bodies over the coming weeks. The weather was bad with poor visibility and a biting wind. Any part of your body not covered up completely would be attacked with potentially life changing consequences. Within three hours of starting out, this was brought home to us very quickly as Conrad, an instructor, rushed over to Georgie having spotted white skin on her face that needed immediate treatment. His words “that could scar for life” shook Georgie to the core and we were still discussing it that night in camp. As the first day finished and we battled to get our tents up, we were already realising that this was going to be a long slog. The early days are difficult because you have yet to find the routines that will quicken the activities and minimise pain. I use the word pain very accurately as it is something you experience every few hours. The cold is so severe that even with gloves your hands are sore. The air is dry and we all had the ends of our fingers crack that added to the discomfort. With straps on your pulks and back packs, plus zips and kit to handle, you were always in some type of discomfort. Multiplying this by many times was when you did it with your gloves off. You put on your duvet jacket and you couldn’t zip it with your gloves so you took it them off. You had 10 secs to succeed or your hands would turn white and the pain kicked in as you lost the feeling. Many times over the period, I was nearly in tears as I tried to zip my jacket or open my pack with searing pain in my hands and multiple attempts required from the deteriorating limbs.

Tom and I would construct the tent each night and Georgie would have the all important stoves to manage. The tent gave us some protection but without the stoves you were dead, as you would not be able to make water, re-hydrate your food or get warm. The sound of the stove coming on (not always a simple task) lifted your spirits and we soon got quite adept at reducing the time it took. Once inside the tent, with two ground mats each on the floor and three stoves burning, we could finally start to warm up though were still wearing our jackets and all our clothing. It was these times of the day when we could have some banter, reflect on the day and look at how we could improve things. It was a constant learning process and each small change had the potential to change the experience for the better.

Food was my department and came in two forms. Day bags for eating on the move and breakfast/evening meals. We were aiming to eat 6,000cals per day along with three litres of water each but that proved very difficult in reality. Each of us got three day bags at the start of each day. One was filled with about 400gms of chocolate, one with 400gms of cheese and chorizo and another with 300gms of trail mix. You carried this 1kg+ of food in your pockets and ate it as you went along. It was all frozen and all ended up tasting of chorizo but you were constantly hungry and forced it into your mouth every hour or so. In the mornings we would have instant oatmeal and in the evenings we would have the very mediocre freeze dried meals with imaginative names that tasted the same. Food was fuel, no more than that but we carried little treats, especially Tom, to lighten the day. TUC biscuits or butter fudge would make a welcome change from the daily fare. Staying hydrated is obviously critical but not that easy. We would each have a flask of hot something and then 2 nalgene bottles of water. Even if you elected to drink the nalgene water first each day, it would inevitably freeze within hours, despite the insulation covers we had on the bottles and therefore was useless. It is not good but I would say we got by on 1.75l of water per day which when you consider we were on a minimum of 16hrs activity, is terrible.

One of the hardest parts of the day was getting into the sleeping bags. We would make sure we were all ready then turn off the stoves. Quickly, we would take off our salopettes and jacket before getting into our bags with our thermals on as well as our fleeces, gloves, balaclavas and tent boots.We would also add a nalgene bottle with hot water in it as well as our duvet jackets but still, every night, we woke up shivering and cold. Surprisingly, considering how hard it should have been, we got up on the alarm most days having had 4-6hrs in the bags though not necessarily sleep. We employed a strategy of positive action and quickly put our bags away, our outdoor clothes on and swept the ice from the inside of the tent before we got the stoves on. It was this burst of activity that helped us warm up in a tent that on a  good day was still minus 25c.

The toilet was a source of constant anxiety and for Georgie this was multiplied. During the day on the 5 min breaks you took your chance and as quickly as possible got the job done. At night, we each had a bottle that we held in our bags that we would use. Gross some might say but entirely necessary as there was no possibility of leaving the tent. The “more involved” aspects of going to the toilet were where it really got complicated. With the need to consume so much food there was always going to be a by product and you dreaded it. It would mean finding some ice rubble to crouch behind, shedding more clothes than you wanted to consider, including gloves, and bearing you backside to the elements. On our dietary regime this could take place twice a day and there was a strange elation on completion. In severe weather we used the vestibule of the tent but that was a last resort as it did not lead to a pleasant after environment for living in.

The march to the start line was uneventful and with between 8-10hrs a day skiing, it was not too taxing. What it did bring home was the need for discipline on the breaks (5mins every 2hrs) and that whilst the scenery is stunning, it becomes a little old quickly and you need to find a way to get your mind onto something else. If you don’t, then the negatives creep in and that is a downwards spiral and can decimate your resolve very quickly. The march to the start line is notorious for having teams pull out and Team Lost succumbed on Day 5, deciding not to participate further. All three of us were skiing well, my days of incompetence behind me, but we were clearly not the fastest on the ice and could see speed was not going to play a part in our master plan. However, as Day 5 ended, we re-stocked our supplies and caught an early night ready for the first day of the race.

Race day was a cold minus 25 but blue skies. We started with some photos being taken, a rousing talk from Gaz and with the shotgun start we headed off. Our plan was to reach Bathurst that night and we set off in steady fashion over the sea ice. The rubble was low and we made great progress though we could already see Team Artyx and Team Chilled Out way off in the distance. After twelve hours we arrived at Bathurst and the first navigational deviation we planned commenced. The other teams entered through an inlet but we chose to scale a hill which was a massive undertaking with fully laden pulks and having been on the march for 12 hours already. We battled up the frozen hill with the temperatures plummetting and the incline increasing. We encouraged and helped each other with periodic shouts of “mustn’t grumble!” which was our catch phrase. However, as we reached the top, with the other teams mere pin pricks in the distance we realised that we had made a mistake and the route was not possible. We turned around and took the perilous journey back with 50kg pulks pulling us ever downwards. Tom was cursing himself for the decision to take the route but Georgie and I were very clear. We needed to take some chances and this had been one of them. It hadn’t worked but that was why it was called a chance. We needed to continue to be creative as it was the only way we could hope to make up for the lack of speed. Two hours later we made camp, 10m from Team Blue Eyes.

We were up after 6hrs of sleep and water making. We pulled pole and headed up the ravine on a severe descent that tested strength, endurance and resolve so early in the day. Ordinarily, if I had stood back, looked at the incline, weight to be carried and conditions, I would have said not possible but for the next two hours we made steady progress and made it to the top. For the next ten hours we went over the hill tops in near white out conditions and with regular changes in the snow depth and elevation. It was an exhausting time but we battled on. Around 5pm we were overtaken by Team Blue Eyes who had made impressive progress but at 7pm we saw them make camp and that was when we knew we had a potential advantage.

We moved on for another 30 mins and quickly put up the tent, got the stoves on and ate some noodles. We took it all down and continued into our 16th hour of the day as the Arctic night came upon us. Though we had 24hrs of daylight, the temperatures did plummet at night and it was bitterly cold. Skiing along with all your extreme weather gear including masks and double mittens did not protect you and you were constantly fighting the shivering. You didn’t dare go for any food in your pockets as that would be too difficult to contemplate and nobody was really keen to break as the temperatures at minus 30 and below were just too low to not be moving.

We spent the next 5 hours covering the plateaus of Polar Bear Pass which were breathtakingly beautiful in their expanse highlighted by the lower sun. As the name suggests, there was an increased opportunity for a polar bear confrontation so I, as the person with the firearm, was on full alert. At one stage, we spotted activity about 2km in the distance but could not decide whether it was bears or foxes. We chose to continue but we were always alert. At 4am, 20hrs after we had left our tent that morning, we set up camp and went to sleep. Two hours later, I felt a tap on my shoulder from Georgie who whispered “there is something moving outside”. I focused intensely and she was right, the distinct sound of footprints in the snow was clear. I moved to the door of the tent and unzipped with my heart pumping. A polar bear could jump the tent any second with horrific consequences. There was no sight of anything so I pulled on the rope that was attached to my pulk and it glided towards me. I lifted the Remington Pump Action Shotgun from its case, fully loaded with slugs that would take the bear out and with the elegance of a new born giraffe, flung myself outside with the gun to my shoulder to confront the predator. I turned a 360 degree but could see nothing. Later that day, when we packed up, we found Arctic Fox prints around the tent.

The next day we continued our progress across Bathurst in what felt like constant hill climbing. We stuck at it though and were buoyed with the idea that we should be off the island and onto the sea ice by that night. It was around this time that I became more aware of the pains in my feet. From day 3 there had been some aggravation on my right heel that had seen my sock destroyed. However, the skin was touched and I had done preventative taping as well as change to thicker socks. What I had noticed was that my boots were tough to remove and Tom was having to help me. My feet were feeling cramped and clearly had swollen up. Around midnight that night, sleep deprived, cold and hungry, the pain started to increase and I took a serious dose of Clofenac to help. It was my turn to lead and for the next two hours I began to struggle to find a gait that did not shoot pain through my body. I marched head down, looking at my skies and remember seeing faces appear on them of historical figures. Exhaustion was clicking in and with poor hydration and a body full of pain killers, the beginnings of hypothermia also. We were all battered but determined to do a 14 hr day, we resolved to complete a final 2 hrs. Tom led with me in the middle and Georgie behind. Thirty minutes in and Georgie was at my side. Georgie is a very special woman. She has the heart of a lion and the courage of one also but she is a very compassionate and caring person, aware of others and sensitive to their needs. She suggested to me that we should look at stopping now and getting the tent up as she was tired and had had enough. In reality, she had seen my struggle and this was her way of suggesting we were going to stop. Georgie moved on to Tom and a conversation took place and it was agreed. The weather was closing in and they would ski ahead to start camp as I made my way to them. The winds picked up quickly and after a struggle down a steep gulley we pitched the tent and got inside. I asked Tom for help to remove my boots and after a massive tug of war in the tiny confined space of out tent with me yelping like a baby we got them off. It didn’t take a doctor to tell us we had a problem as the bloody mess was clear for all to see and I can still remember the look on Tom’s face. There wasn’t any blisters, the boots had not rubbed but cut into the feet and had taken layers of skin of the heel, leaving a messy pulp. We cleaned them up and then Georgie taped them expertly.

We woke the following day to gusting 60km/hr winds and white out conditions. We packed to go but just as we were about to pull pole Tom said he was not comfortable taking the tent down in these conditions. If we lost the tent, a very real possibility, it could be catastrophic so it was always best to be cautious, especially with assistance three days away. We climbed back into the tent and the winds picked up further. I was relieved to be resting my feet and we all took the time to modify kit and make repairs. At 7.40pm we made our daily satellite phone sched call to base camp. We informed them of our position and decision and were promptly told that CP1 would be closing on time so not to spend too much time in the tent. We were suddenly facing the fact that we could be off the race by CP1 and that was shattering. We elected to set the alarm for 1am and leave then but at 1am and 3am the conditions were no better and it was 6am before gathered outside the tent, in the same conditions resolved to getting the tent down. It was a meticulous process and required 100% commitment as the gusting, freezing winds, barrelling down the gully would snap the poles or lift the tent away for ever if the chance came. We achieved it and buyoed with the success, we set off with the winds on our backs and zero visibility.

As it would be for every subsequent day, the first few hours on my feet were ok and I could easily keep or make pace. It was normally around hour 6 that the pain started to creep in. On this day, at hour 6, we left Bathurst behind and were back on the sea ice. We pushed hard, ever motivated by the reality we could miss the CP1 deadline and be off the race. Each of us would take a 2hr stint on navigation at the front with the other two behind. At the end of each two hours we would break for 5 or 10 mins depending on when in the day. The scenery does not change much and you found yourself forever playing mind games to stay occupied. A country for each letter of the alphabet, the capitals of the world, how many car brands. Inevitably, you would become introspective, analysing life, relationships, experiences and a whole host of things. I spent hours having conversations with Sandy, Conor, Zara, my parents, brother and close friends. I imagined their responses and revelled in the open honesty a one side conversation can produce. I have been with Sandy for nearly 23 years now and we have been through everything together. She is my best friend and my soul mate and that was totally re-confirmed to me on the ice when I considered what we had experienced together through the decades and how I had developed as a person through her support. Time on the ice made me put in order some priorities and re-define aims to a new level of clarity. It made me accept some cold realities I had been avoiding and instilled in me a resolve that would not have been possible in the every day routine. I re-confirmed my motivations for being involved in these challenges and stamped on my brain the intent that I will lead an extraordinary life I am capable of, one day at a time, with the extraordinary being defined in the depth of relationships I have with people I care about, the positive impact I can have on my children’s lives, the positive impact I can have on the lives of others and to test my boundaries whenever I can.

We stopped that night and were relieved to establish with base camp that it would just be the mandatory rest we would sacrifice for being late. The dressings Georgie had placed on my feet were still fully on but they were clearly stained with fresh blood and the change in my gait to protect my heels had resulted in me losing three toe nails and some damage to the sole of my left foot. I taped it all up, took my meds and we resolved to get a big push done tomorrow to get us close to CP1.

The following morning, I started off in the lead and set a blistering pace. Though cold, we had blue skies and the ice conditions were good. We took our skies off and walked for the first 5 hrs or so. We were averaging 3.5 nautical miles (6.4km) for each 2 hour stint which was great and this continued for most of the day. Tom and Georgie, ever aware of my issues, were making sure we kept within limits and when it came to the sched call, we requested to Base Camp for some bigger boots for me. They informed us that there was a plane due to CP1 tomorrow and they would put some on board. We completed 14 hours with my feet in pieces but buoyed with the news new boots were on the way, we set up the tent for a noodle stop and resolved to go through the night.

In the back of my mind I was worried that the damage was already done and that the new boots would do nothing to help. I found myself focusing on how I could get through the next 250km in the pain I was in. There was no thought, not for one second, of not continuing. My resolve was simple. If not on the sole then it was just pain and that could be overcome. This would build me, it would help me to understand what we are capable of doing. The Arctic explorers before me, in their hob nailed boots must have got blisters and worst. They didn’t have smart wool, sat phones, gortex and planes for evac. They accepted the situation and they got on with it. I elected to do the same and when I got out of the tent to start the night shift I was elated. I had my music on and I played through my head all the things that would happen when I finished. The euphoria of completing, the first time sitting in a chair again, hot water, being clean, first beer and then in intricate detail I played out in my mind meeting my family at the airport and hugging them all again.

Four hours in and I was struggling. As I struggled, I got slower and the slower I got the more cold I got. By the time we stopped for a break, my hands had frozen and I couldn’t get my bag off. I sat on the pulk next to Georgie. I couldnt get my flask out because my hands were too cold and it started to grind on me. I felt a rub on the arm from Georgie who could see I was getting upset and Tom leaned over and said ” I have no idea what it must be like to be doing these distances with your feet like that. You have to tell us when it gets too much. Our priority is to finish, plain and simple”.  This is what being in a team is all about. It is not the power of one, it is the multiplying power of three in our case. I utterly trusted them both to be on lookout for my wellbeing as I hope they did me. I never once felt that was not the case, never once did I see shrugging shoulders or eyes raised to heaven. We were a team, in it together and committed to helping each other.

We managed another 5 hours and after 23 hours had completed our best day of 46km. We set up the tent and Georgie and I were doing the stoves. We always had a healthy paranoia around this process as we were in a confined environment, wearing highly flammable clothing and we had heard horror stories. The first cooker lit without incident but the second went up aggressively and I watched in horror as the flames headed to the fuel bottle. I shouted for Georgie to get out and picked up the stove board with all three stoves on it which was quickly becoming engulfed in flames. I threw it to the edge of the door and with a mighty kick with my boot, launched it out into the snow. We were lucky, only a hole in the groundsheet of the tent.

We woke in a few hours in the knowledge we were 7 hours from CP1 and a new pair of boots. The pain was pretty intense so I busied myself with conversations with Conor in my mind and reminded myself of what Zara goes through every day as she tries to walk. Five hours in and at a reasonable pace, we saw the plane overhead and knew CP1 could not be far. Two hours later and we saw two skidoos heading our way. It was Dave and an Inuit guy. He threw me the boots and after a massive effort, involving two guys to get the old ones off, I put them on. It was luxury! My feet spread out and it felt so different. Dave looked me in the eyes and said, “are you continuing? Tell me now as the plane is off to CP2 but will be back in 2 hrs and this is your last chance to get out” I could see Tom looking at me, I forget his words but they were along the lines of “think about this, we have to go another 250km and you need to be right”. I didn’t need to think, I was doing a jig in my new boots and could not believe how different they felt. “Are you sure?” Dave questioned, I was indeed.

The plane did indeed come back in two hours and we noticed that there was a team getting on and it looked like Arctyx, the hot favourites. Georgie was the first to notice but I discounted this as being possible. We heard that Team Blue Eyes were gone with Jim suffering frost bite so Jill was now with Gaz, the instructor. We arrived in camp to find everyone was gone. We set up tent and were doubly gutted to find the Doc had moved on and that the messages from family had gone with him. That was a low moment as we were 12 days in and we were all keen to hear that life at home was good and there were no issues. Dave came over and told us about the frost bite on Jim’s thumb. I jokingly said “did it look like this?” pulling my hand out of my glove and taking a plaster I had on the tip of my thumb off. Dave looked at my thumb and then at me with a confused look on his face. “Is that ok?” he asked, “yes” I replied, “has been like that for a week now”. “It’s infected you daft ####” he said. I moved on quickly.

We settled in for the evening buoyed by some treats we had stashed in the CP1 re-supply bags. Spirits were high and even more so when we heard that Artyx had indeed given up and gone back to base. With Team Blue Eyes now on a new team member that meant Team CSC was second and if we finished it would remain that way. The night was filled with banter and good humour (though a lot toilet orientated) and Georgie and I even delved into the med pac for a diazepam to loosen muscles and aid sleep which it did indeed.

We pulled pole the following morning and left before Blue Eyes. We headed into the ice rubble, a feature that would increase the difficulty and reduce the speed all the way to CP2. I could feel the pain in my feet but not as much as previous initially. However, 2 hours in and I was slower, considerably. Georgie fell back to walk with me and whilst I confirmed the pain, I explained my resolve to complete. In my mind, I had to put up with this pain for four more days. By then we would be at CP2 an the final 3-4 push to the pole and finish would be enough to motivate me. Georgie readily accepted this and encouraged the thinking before re-joining Tom at the front. I continued along, repeating to myself that this was character building, no more than basic pain and could be overcome with determination.

Three hours in and Tom joined me to ask if I was ok. We have been mates for a long time so I had no hesitation letting him know I was in a lot of pain but could manage it. He explained that his concern was our pace and that we would have an extra day to do at this rate. He said he was happy with this, we were in it together but I needed to be sure I could handle it. I told him I could not contemplate any other action and would do my best to increase. For the next hour I worked really hard at getting through the biting pain and keeping up. The problem was the variable snow depth which would surprise you and have your foot plunge half metre down which would drive my feet into the crevasses of my boot. The scheduled break came up and we all drew alongside each other. I sat back on my pulk and said, we need to discuss this. Both looked at me and I explained I felt I could carry on but the pace would be slow. I was concerned that would impact them. I explained it was not in my character to give up to which Tom replied “Your character is not in doubt Mullane, we can’t imagine what it has been like to get through the last 100kms”. “Ok” I said, “let’s discuss options”. Gaz, the senior instructor who was now with Jill at Team Blue Eyes as a team member was 400 m away by now and I asked Tom to go get him. I slumped back realising this couldn’t end well and Georgie, probably sensing this gave me a re-assuring pat on the arm. Gaz came over and explained two important things. Any decision now was important as they could not get an aircraft into a rubble field and that if we did not make CP2 on time they would have to remove us from the race. That pretty much made the decision for me. Sure, I could get through the pain and I would get to CP2 but I could not increase the pace and that could mean my team mates would lose out. I made the decision there and then, I would start may way back to CP1. There were logistic issues to resolve on kit and it was agreed that Gaz would come out with me and Jill would join my two team mates. With the kit issues resolved, we said our good byes with hugs and Gaz and I turned for the four hour march back. I didn’t get upset, I wasn’t emotional, it had been the right decision for the team and that was what mattered.

Tony Martin. Extreme Races boss, became my hero when we called it in. He could have told us to get to CP1, get the tent up and wait 2 days for Skidoo rescue which would have been horrific as it is many times colder boucing along at speed on a skiddoo for 48hrs. However, he elected to get us a plane and was even on it when we reached it four hours later. The incredible pilots took off on a runway the size of a living room floor and one hour later I was back at base camp. My feet were a total mess with 6 toe nails gone and a bloody pulp for heels. I had two fingers with frost nip and one thumb  with frost bite as well as having gone septic. I was started on a course of anti-biotics and constant ribbing.

The Arctic had taken its toll on me as can be seen in these photos taken 15 days apart

Before

After

The feet were not a pretty spectacle.

Three days on and I still have no sense of touch in 7 fingers and two thumbs but it will return. The environment out there is the most brutal on the planet, many, many more times than the Sahara for example and it leaves its mark.

I am not going to write on what has happened since with Team CSC as that is not my prerogative. Enough to say they have an active time and are now getting in to CP2. I will leave it to them to write, they lived it and they deserve to tell it there way. I, for one, cannot wait to hear about it.

My Polar challenge is over so you may ask yourself if it was all worth it. Growing up in the Mullane household you were asked to do only one thing, give it your best. If you did that, nobody could ask any more and you had the support of the family. Hand on my heart, I gave it more than I ever thought I had so I have no regrets. Through this experience I have had my perceived physical boundaries re-defined, my resolve on what matters to me in my life re-affirmed, had the power of team work driven home to me and helped raise over $130,000 for Children’s Surgical Centre. I have seen and experienced things that few will ever do and been made to realise, one again, what is possible if you choose a deliberate path of action.

I thank Tony and Dave Martin for their support in the last week. They could have made some alternative decisions in the last few days  to their benefit but they didn’t, they demonstrated the client is their focus. That type of attitude deserves rewarding and I will go out of my way to make sure that happens. Anna, Andy, Mikey, John, Jim, thanks for all your untiring efforts throughout. Conrad, you are a god to us novices, you taught us so much and even when we continued to behave like complete dipsticks, you continued. Gaz, you are a star, you give us the confidence to get the job done and you are a great trainer. The last few days should have been miserable for me but the banter, attitude and assistance you gave me made this into a positive experience.

Tom and Georgie, you have been the most incredible team mates to have experienced this with. You re-defined selflessness and both of you taught me many positive things. I will never forget this time together, the humour, overcoming challenges and the togetherness. I hope this whole experience will stimulate you guys to achieve your full potential as you have bags of it.

To my parents, who for years now, annually suffer the anxiety of having one of their children doing something dumb like this. Thanks for the unwavering support.

Sandy, I am coming home honey, just as I promised I would. It is difficult to put into words the debt I owe to you for your support, assistance and the interest you always show in these projects. I can’t promise you this is the last, you know me better than that but I come home again knowing I am the most fortunate man on the planet to be able to call you my wife.

Conor and Zara, watch out, there is a big huggable polar bear coming home in the shape of your daddy and he is going to be giving you a lot polar bear hugs!

Share this post!