Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
be, and I
knew
it would be bloody hard. The distances we're covering
each day, around 20 kilometres now, are colossal in expedition terms
but still far below the 30 kilometres I need to be achieving.
The finish seems so far away—it
is
so far away—and I have to
keep everything in perspective and not get emotionally overwhelmed
by what I have to do. Little things—a text from the kids (who, it's com-
forting to know, are safe and warm at boarding school during the week
and with my extended family on weekends), emails from supporters,
news of donations, a corny joke with Eric, Clark or Jose, or word from
Bernie and Greg about the resupply of food, fuel and batteries in a few
days' time—lift my spirits to the heavens. (Dillon texted: 'Dad, u r my
hero, I'm so proud of u, I know u can do this. Everything u do is an
inspiration,' and Brooke said she stood up at school assembly and told
everyone how I was going and that I made her so proud.) It's nice to
know that we're not alone. Contact with the real world is important to
me. Without it, I can lapse into feeling that the wheels have fallen off,
that what I'm doing is a complete waste of time: Does anybody care?
What was I thinking when I took this on?
Apart from being frozen, the aches and pains and wind- and
snow-burn, physically I'm not bad, and, after feeling a little weak early
on, with each passing day I'm getting stronger, which is reassuring
because that's been the case on my previous treks across America and
around Australia. Greg and Bernie, who are in relative civilisation at
Yellowknife, preparing to drive across Canada to meet me at Radisson,
Québec, at the end of the North Pole sector, managed to avert a crisis
when Brooke and Dillon told them that their passports were about to
expire. I ended up having a phone conversation with an official on my
satellite phone, and he was incredulous. 'Do you really mean to say I'm
talking to you at the North Pole?' I told him I'd say hello to Santa for
him. But the passports were issued, and Brooke and Dillon will be able
to meet me when I arrive in Canada.
Easter's here, although there'll be no chocolate eggs for us this
year. We'll make do with the reindeer cabanossi, the consuming of
which is a high point of each day, because it is full of flavour when a
lot of our other provisions taste bland. My lunch pack is always full of
broken biscuits, smashed to bits by the dragging of the sleds over the
ice. I constantly snack on dried fruit and nuts and big chunks of butter,
which I eat to keep my energy up.
