I don't remember exactly when we decided to go to the North Pole, but I do remember that, like most good ideas, this one presented itself from the moment we reached the bottom of a good bottle of red.
Explorer Alan Chambers and I had been planning an expedition to the South Pole for about a year when he was asked to guide a trip to the North Pole. Initially seen as a distraction, the project quickly turned into an exciting opportunity when it became apparent that I could go as a replacement. It would be our first joint foray into a new and hostile environment, free of charge. Alan, a master of this kind of challenge, would impart as much knowledge to me as I could absorb. At the same time, we could begin to develop our approach to conquering the South Pole, drawing on our newly-discovered strengths and weaknesses as a team.
The phrase "hostile environment" sounds trite on paper, but the reality is that daily life must continue under a certain degree of duress. Hidden enemies lurk in the background, waiting to sneak up unannounced. Frost bites are always a problem, and what's worse is that as your flesh begins to freeze, nerves are gently severed. This is where a buddy-buddy system comes into its own, as we continually check on each other. Fortunately, Alan spotted it on my cheek and nose before any serious damage was done. Cold feet are something you have to live with but can't afford to ignore until they're numb enough to feel like stumps, because that sensation is the harbinger of a reality I wouldn't wish on anyone.
It's also sobering to think that survival rests on a crust of frozen sea ice that's constantly shifting and varying in thickness. There's nothing more disconcerting than when the ice starts to flex and ripple beneath your skis. You can't stop yourself, as this could be fatal. So you have to rely on a fluid, relaxed movement, and hope that the ice will be thicker in front of you, because there's no turning back. Deep ocean currents compete with erratic wind-driven ice movements to continually stir and tear the crust. I was shocked to pitch the tent one night only to wake up fourteen miles away. It took two days of hard work to end up just behind our starting point. I remember once when the ice cracked in front of me and I was startled by Alan's highly motivated cry from the other side. The speed at which the pack ice had opened up into a lead was shocking as I glanced back after a rather ungainly jump (leads are linear cracks in the ice that form when pack ice diverges or shears). Add to that some hungry polar bears and you have a particularly amusing moment.
But that's not all, I've returned to the North Pole several times because of its seductive and unique beauty. I expected a white, cold and sterile world, and was astonished to find a changing landscape full of color. I've never seen so many shades of blue, constantly changing with the passing of the sun. The different ages of the sea ice are reflected in the intensity of their color and transparency, the oldest being hard and beautiful enough to be mistaken for precious stones. As a gap opens in one place, the ice is compressed to erupt into the sky in another. There's never a dull moment, and there's no room for complacency; there is, however, for danger....
Like Phileas Fogg's experience, you find yourself in a foreign world devoid of substance. With the nearest land a kilometer beneath your feet, it's like being in suspension, space and time seemingly unbalanced. The North Pole, the focus of all our efforts, is merely the convergence of a mathematical model. The point where our lines of longitude meet, which has no physical existence. Reach it, have a cup of tea and by that time the drifting ice will have carried you forward. Not far, but enough to require a short walk to take the celebratory photos at the precise point. Time takes on a new meaning, as the basic rhythms of night and day are suppressed by perpetual daylight, with a weak sun rotating just above the horizon. This creates the illusion of standing at the center of the world's largest clock face, where the passage of time is measured by marking lunch in Moscow, Paris and New York. There's something inescapably spiritual about this unique landscape that seems to touch the soul. Like the Southern Ocean, I was drawn to this space and set up a company with Alan, with whom we trained, equipped and led groups of novices to the North Pole. Many of these wonderful people returned to their normal lives after benefiting from the extraordinary time and space up there, which was useful for some in making life-changing decisions.
The North Pole, but also a number of other expeditions, changed my perception of remote latitudes, which had always been described as places of suffering and little interest. With the right equipment, knowledge and preparation, I was pleased to discover that these places have a lot to offer. It takes more commitment than dropping anchor in the Bahamas, but the returns can be more rewarding. Not only for their uniqueness, but also for the satisfaction of being able to function in a hostile environment and overcome its difficulties. Instead of being relaxed by the balm of the tropics, a polar experience heightened the senses to bring a deeper, more meaningful and often more lasting reward. The icing on the cake is that, in such a foreign and hostile environment, all the senses are rewarded with unfamiliar colors, smells, sounds, wildlife and culture.
Any boat designed for offshore sailing should be able to take you to high latitudes. All the basic safety rules apply, but greater vigilance and preparation are advised.
Long-distance cruises are just that, long-distance cruises. There's no marina, hospital or store to fill the gaps in preparation. In fact, there can't be any gaps; carry extra food, spare parts and a more sophisticated communications system. Have a detailed crisis plan drawn up and entrusted to a trusted person at home. Improve your maintenance skills, especially in the medical field. Think the worst and be prepared with the best, like a Guy Cotten survival suit. Test these life jackets and train the crew in their use so that details are instinctive and thoughtful. There's no point having your knife in the wrong pocket in a crisis.
Any ocean-going vessel is in fact capable of taking you to high latitudes, but that doesn't mean it's capable of offering you the hidden rewards. What's the point of a survival exercise that makes you freeze to death when you could be warm, happy and equipped to see beyond the misery of an improbable, unprepared moment? A sturdy aluminium boat, built with watertight bulkheads, eliminates an enormous amount of residual stress. Good insulation and heating provide a cocoon in which to warm up and recover from mini-expeditions. A sturdy inflatable dinghy with a reliable engine gives you the luxury of getting close to nature. A shapely hull with sufficient volume offers space for extra reserves and large tanks, providing the autonomy required for long-distance sailing. The cockpit needs to be sheltered, and having a cockpit is a huge advantage, as it encourages a watchful eye and prolongs the crew's endurance.
Clothing is very important, as it should be a mix of specialized sailing and mountaineering gear. Breathable materials are a must, while simple, robust design and construction are the order of the day. Extra details, like the addition of a braided extension to a zipper, make all the difference when trying to close a jacket with mittens. I swear by a merino wool base layer, followed by a water-resistant mid-layer for drier days on deck. A bag of warm hats is never too much, as are neck warmers and ski goggles. Although waterproof clothing is essential, the truth is that high-pressure systems often mean it's dry, and a good insulating jacket is preferable most of the time. I love my trusty Finisterre jacket, which has served me well for many years. Designed for surfers, it's perfect for high-latitude sailing. A hot water bottle, too, is an excellent companion on watch and in bed when you're trying to keep warm.
It's the extremities that suffer the most, so get another pair of insulated boots that are half a size too big. Make sure you have some excellent socks to fill the space. Boots should be generous in the calf area, as they need to accommodate socks, first and middle layers without compressing them. Take them with you and wear them when you try them on, because it's too late when you take them out in real conditions. Unlike many, I don't use insulating mugs, because there's nothing like squeezing a hot mug to warm cold fingers. I wear very thin gloves for the first layer, heavier thermal gloves and finally generous mittens that can be put on and taken off easily. Never use a winch with mittens, as they can get caught in the winch. Take them off and put them in your jacket pocket - which you've already made sure is big enough!
This robust yet nuanced approach also applies to the boat. Take long, spiked poles to fend off chunks of ice. A Shallow draft is a priceless asset, as you can anchor in shallow waters that repel large chunks of ice when they run aground. Take large Fenders to cushion the roughness of docks designed for commercial boats that take the place of marinas. I like to have two large inflatable Fenders to bridge the growing gap between fore and aft midships. Carry very long chains and lots of rubbing and scraping protection material, a piece of old fire hose is good if you can get it. Carry a few jerry cans so you can recover fuel with the dinghy. Bear protection in the form of a locally hired rifle is essential. I would supplement this protection with bear spray, because who would want to harm a bear in its natural habitat? After all, we're the invasive species.
The old military maxim "divide and conquer" should never be far from your mind. Make sure the dinghy has a fully-charged, high-quality waterproof VHF and spare batteries. Contact with the mother ship should be maintained by regular radio checks. A portable GPS with spare batteries should not leave the boat until the precise point of anchorage has been entered as a "waypoint" on this equipment. If you can afford it, take a satellite phone. Carry a written backup plan, including a sketch of the map and a pre-arranged rendezvous point(s) in case of trouble. A waterproof bag should be carried in the dinghy in case it is separated by sudden changes in weather or visibility and has to remain ashore for an extended period. Be very careful not to be swept out to sea if the outboard motor fails. Always have two people on board to ensure that the mother ship is not left unmanned in the event of an emergency. Search the web for others who have taken the route before you, as maps can be vague and nothing beats local knowledge and advice from the field. Take a drone.
The details I refer to above need to be applied to all areas of the expedition and assimilated by the whole crew through numerous meetings, training sessions and delegation of responsibilities. There's a lot to do, so assign each member an area of responsibility in which he or she can excel and thus feel valued. I've always focused on crew morale and entertainment. This can be anything from a bag of chocolate in the cockpit to a weekly meal to celebrate and reflect. There will be times when the boat can't move, so make sure you have books, games and ingredients to cook with. Some people seem to elevate suffering to an end in itself when they're on an expedition. This macho approach couldn't be further from mine. Why not make it something fun, something enriching, so that you come back from these adventures both happier and fitter than when you left? After all, isn't that what life's all about?
This is the fourth in a series of articles by British sailor, author and adventurer Pete Goss.
Find out more about Pete Goss on his official website
