Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
may 22
I set off on my first road run, a 30-kilometre stretch due south from
Radisson, and Dillon joined me for the last 2 kilometres. Bernie had
set the distance for today at just 30 kilometres because he did not
know what condition I would be in. In fact, I was a bit shaky. At least,
at the end of a day's run, I can now climb into my portable hyperbaric
chamber, which pumps oxygen into my system and helps my cells
and muscles recover. It's like a big blue cocoon that we tow in a trailer
behind a van; after I've spent time encased inside it, I feel I can float
like a butterfly.
may 25
Today Dillon was driven back to Radisson to connect with the plane
for the return flight to Sydney and school. It was really sad saying
goodbye; I felt hollow after he left, and my world went quiet. He was
helpful and nurturing while he was here. He and Brooke will be com-
ing over together in the June holidays, and that knowledge was all that
made our parting bearable. Through the North Pole stage, had I not
had thoughts of my kids in my head, inspiring me to keep pressing
forwards over the ice, I could easily have curled up and died, saying
'I just can't do this.' Thoughts of Brooke and Dillon made my success
possible.
With Dillon gone, Bernie, ever mindful of the distance still to be
travelled, decided that it was time to get stuck in and refocus. I had
to run 80 kilometres today, down the picturesque route towards the
town of Matagami, on Lake Matagami. As I set off down a long, straight
highway with less and less snow on the ground the further south I ran,
I revelled in being able to stride out in my T-shirt, shorts and running
shoes on firm ground in fine weather. I felt like someone had unlocked
my prison shackles. Until the South Pole, I will have no further need
for skis, sleds or polar gear! I was as free as the sparrow that flew close
by me at the North Pole, and I hoped that my fate will be a happier one
than that beautiful lost bird's.
And I'm running really well. The roads have been almost devoid
of cars. Flanked by wooden telephone poles, they wend through thick
pine forests that stretch out on either side as far as we can see.
