Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
yard filled with car bodies and bits of bridge transoms and junk stick-
ing in all directions out of the ground: that's what the terrain is like
here. We scale each ridge, dragging our laden kayaks over the top, but
they go on for as far as the eye can see. Today I was crossing a lead
and banged my right knee. It's hurting badly. We slogged our guts out
for 12 hours and covered 12 kilometres. That's depressing. Yesterday
we did just 15 kilometres. These distances are nothing like what we
should be achieving, and each day puts us further behind schedule.
But there's not a thing I can do about it.
We've had to cross a lot of water. The leads can be a few centi-
metres wide, then the ice shifts and they're suddenly a metre across,
and, before you know it, it's a lake. It is so dangerous. You might think,
because the temperatures at the North Pole are in the -30s, even the
-40s, that the ice there is hard, smooth and thick, and so easily travers-
able. But that isn't the case. The ocean in places is around 4000 metres
deep, and the currents cause continual shifting of the surface ice. The
movement literally drags sections of the ice cap apart, quickly and
without warning, creating open channels of water. We passed a section
of ice yesterday that was moving before our eyes. The ground shifted,
then opened up, and a 50-tonne iceberg pushed up through the water.
If you fall into a lead—easy to do—you can drown or freeze to death in
seconds. It has been known for a lead to suddenly open up beneath a
sleeping camp of explorers, with all lives being lost.
Each new obstacle has to be considered, analysed and dealt with
safely. Swim across? Climb over? Look for a gap? Walk around? You
have to make a call and follow it through. And when fatigue has set
in, that's when mistakes are more likely. We haven't made any major
mistakes yet. Apart from my bust-ups with Eric, we're pulling together
as a unit and putting in the work. It's all we can do.
We must wear our dry suits at all times, because if you fall into
that black, bottomless water without one, you're dead. Usually, we can
bridge the leads with our kayaks, scamper across and then pull our
kayaks after us, but increasingly we are having to swim across in our
suits. I have never swum so bloody quickly.
My snowshoes are falling apart. There's no alternative, though,
but to keep plodding on in them, because I'll have nothing else until
we are resupplied via a drop of provisions and gear from a plane that is
scheduled for April 25, which is ten days away.
