Joe Woodward

Guy Fawkes night at home, here we’ve been celebrated with a really good burn in the tent, drying kit frozen solid by a day in some vicious weather. We awoke this morning to find clouds down around our ankles and a wind like a whetted knife cutting through our layers. To keep warm we set off on a bit of a cross country marathon, small hills and deep valleys simulating the pressure ridges and sastrugi of the polar ice. Sometimes we struggled upwards, harnesses biting at our chests, breaths coming in laboured gasps; moments later we’re flying downhill, pulks yapping at our heels like an angry terrier. As dusk approached we took to the road, eager to eat up the distance to camp before night fell. Old school marching songs helpd to keep the pace. Has the Norwegian Arctic ever heard the dulcet notes of Tipperary before? It certainly has now.

Henry Evans

Last night we camped next to an empty Sami settlement with our tents surrounded by wig-wam like structures, ghosts in the Norwegian countryside. Today we began to descend slowly off the plateau and due to the rapidly diminishing snow cover, the team had to ditch the pulks halfway and continue trudging along with packs. The tent was soaking and so felt like I was carrying a block of cement in my rucksack; good training I thought positively to myself. Along the way, the team moved off the beaten track to find a more difficult route, to try to re-create a pressure ridge found commonly in polar environments. Controlling our 20kg pulks was very difficult but always good fun, until you think that in Antarctica you would be pulling a pulk four times this weight! Tonight is our 6^th straight night under canvas, with the looming showers becoming more and more inviting.

Ali Negyal

“We feel incapable as weather prophets... no two blizzards have been heralded by the same signs.”
Capt. Scott, 03.08.1911

Sadly, today’s snow cover wasn’t deep enough for skiing, so we loaded up our pulks for a hike. Just the ice-flowered twiggy tips of tundra poked out from the snow: the overall effect was of heaped chocolate chip ice-cream. Joe convincingly faked an injury for a first aid drill. I only caught on when Antony got the video camera rolling...

We walk in single file – each leading a leg in turn – so there is a collective interiority when we’re on the move and we share our thoughts in our breaks. It’s interesting how many of us pop coins in our personal jukebox.

In contrast, Scott’s men were strapped to an aggregation of all sleds, so they chatted as they dragged and even sang shanties and hymns. Scott drily noted, ‘It is rather a surprising circumstance that such an unmusical party should be so keen on singing.’

Kathryn Rose

After a long arctic night sheltered in our tents everyone was eager to stretch our legs for the day. On foot we practised dragging our pulks up and down hills across the tundra to replicate the effects of sea ice. As we came down one hill someone at the back of the group fell. The alert was raised and we all rushed to help Joe with his sprained ankle. Quickly we worked to keep him warm and grabbed the first aid kit. It was only half way through that we realised this was a drill. The team leaders watched as we worked to shelter the group under the bothy. Once secure we all huddled together to discuss first aid in the Arctic environment. It was quite a test and a dramatic way to begin the day. We battled against a growing wind that afternoon, grateful to make camp that evening.

Ali Negyal

Antony taught us how to pack our pulks for optimal weight distribution and he talked us through a panoply of ski bindings. Our equipment is greatly enabling. Scott’s team would stuff their ski boots with saenegras, a kind of Norwegian sedge grass: it would ice up every day and needed to be refreshed. Their wooden skis weighed 17lb a pair. In the Discovery expedition, they still skied with one pole, Sami-style, but had progressed to the modern, two-pole method by the Terra Nova expedition.

We were literally kept on our toes with a crash course in cross-country skiing. The bindings only attach the toe of the boots to the skis, so the ski action is a combination of slack-shouldered gyrations and ginger salsa-hipped steps. Only I had never worn skis before, so I made a big effort not to hold everyone back. The others diplomatically overlooked the odd tumble! Absurdly fun.

Kathryn Rose

Today we took to skis for the first time! The day was overcast, but with extra snow during the night we were able to don our skis, hitch up to our pulks and head off for the day as proper polar explorers. It turns out there is quite an art to cross-country ski-ing whilst pulling a laden pulk. It was not something I had ever done before and going both up-hill and down-hill proved to be quite challenging. Everyone managed a spectacular fall at some point or other during the day. Antony gave us lesson on how to turn on the spot, go up-hill and control our speed down-hill. It was hard work but we began to progress and were rewarded with a prolonged lunch break under the shelter of our lifesystems bothy – a giant dome of orange material everyone can huddle under in bad weather. Altogether a great day.

Joe Woodward

A red letter day today. At last we have our skis, meaning we can now tow our pulks in true explorer style. Unlike downhill skiing, there is just a simple toe binding, meaning you move by lifting your heel and sliding the foot forward. Great on the flat, not so good uphill - if sweat kills in the Arctic then I am a dead man walking. Downhill is sketchier – one knee bent, telemark style, and trust to luck you stay upright. If the skinned state of my backside is anything to go by, Lady Luck deserted me long ago. Still, if skiing proficiency was lacking, the camp routine is getting slicker. Now, by the time two of us have got the tent up, the third has the stove going and a hot drink waiting. The only debate is what makes the better warmer, tea or noodles? Discuss, using only one side of the paper.

Henry Evans

My thoughts turned to Captain Scott and his men on a number of occasions today, as the team cross country skied for the first time across the Norwegian wilderness. As I skied along, laughing at the three spectacular falls I had just managed, I considered the feat he achieved by surviving in freezing Antarctic temperatures for 4 ½ months and the scientific knowledge that was gained by it all. Our training expedition continued with a brief lecture on pulk packing and the different bindings for cross country skies. After all this, the team rapidly decamped with the routine becoming smoother by the day. While skiing, I found myself in my own little world, thinking about important aspects of my life such as family and university. Before I knew it, it was time for our 10 minute stop and I realised I was beginning to perfect the art that is cross country skiing.

Ali Negyal

We ventured deeper into Finnmark. The landscape is predominantly tundra with gashes of peaty bogs and sprays of mirror-calm lakes. The route for travellers is marked twice, for warm and snowy conditions. The winter route is picked out with baleful cairns and crosses. ‘Remoteness’ isn’t a straightforward concept these days, e.g. Antarctica has more internet hosts than all of Nigeria and Antarctic icebergs are known to have calved off after March’s Japanese earthquakes. More was known of the moon in 1969, than of Antarctica when Scott set sail in 1910 – it wasn’t even certain the continent wasn’t an archipelago.

We covered 17 km on foot, starting with backpacks but pulling pulks for the last half. Lemmings had run rivulets across the fresh snow and we fell silent when we reached a herd of reindeer. As Antony explained reindeer have poor eyesight, and true to form, they walked only into the wind and their ankles clicked like Rice Krispies.

Henry Evans

Felt like I didn’t sleep a wink last night, but still enthusiastically hurled my-self out of my frozen sleeping bag as I was on stove duty, ready for the challenges that the day would bring. By 8.30am the team were fully packed and soon tackled the 17km hike that would lead to our next camp. Taking it in turns to lead, we set off at a steady pace of 4km per hour, passing scenic sights such as reindeer herds, snow capped hills and lemming’s scuttling away from us squeaking. After roughly 10km, the snow was deep enough for us to once again use our sleds. The highlights were the downhill parts, where I would leap onto my sled and rapidly descend down. Days are running into one and I am struggling to remember the date everyday, which is a great sign that I am getting fully into this expedition. What a great experience this is all.

Kathryn Rose

A fantastic day for training. There was a rare break from the mist and rain and we were greeted with sunshine and fresh snow. We woke refreshed for a day of distance walking. Packing up the tent proved problematic as we found all the guy ropes and straps frozen solid. Trying to release them, whilst wearing giant gloves was challenging - a great test for Antarctic conditions. Finally we were underway and making a good pace across the plateau. We were greeted half way by our Norwegian guide. There was more snow on the trail ahead so we would be able to use our pulks. We trotted along in good spirits, taking time to look at the local herds of reindeer that were wandering across our path. The conditions were so good we arrived early at our camp site, in time to enjoy the scenery before dark.

Joe Woodward

It’s amazing what you do to pass time in a tent. With night falling around 3pm we tend to spend a lot of time cooped up in there, squished together like so many peas in a pod. Last night, a game of eye spy went on for two hours, while the limerick contest was inspired, particularly my entry about a man from Nantucket – a definite winner whatever the others may say. The limerick motif has continued into today, keeping the mind engaged as you trek along, pulk bumping behind you - remind me to include my one about Henry and the lemmings in a future blog. We take it in turns to take the lead, blazing a trail through the snow, making sure we break every hour. The bleak landscape is straight out of a western and it’s hard not to get the convoy moving with a cry of ‘wagons, roll’. I’m afraid I’ve succumbed...

Henry Evans

A long and difficult night, which began by falling asleep to the sound of the wind howling at 7pm. Woke up with a start at 12am and then found myself tossing and turning until 6am this morning. Today’s training was physically tough and I accepted the challenge with great excitement. We were all given a sled for the team to attach their rucksacks to and we set off into the Norwegian countryside. Joe and I shot some promotion footage with AJ, speaking to camera about the gear we had given by our sponsors. For lunch, the team sheltered in a bothy and were given our next challenge. Splitting into pairs, we were strapped to a heavy tyre and told to pull it for the 2 mile circuit. Snow fell daintily around us as we struggled on, completing the circuit in just under 2 hours. Good training indeed.

Joe Woodward

There is a certain masochistic pleasure in waking in a damp tent, surrounded by ice-rimed kit. This soon dissipates, however, if all that waits for you is a day in the rain, rucksacks on your back. But replace that rain with snow and the rucksacks with sleds and the grin will remain in place all day. Today was the first time we have been harnessed up to our sleds, or pulks in explorer parlance, and there is a feeling of real progress as we tow them over rocks and across frozen waterways. This, after all, is exactly what we’ll be doing if we make it to the Antarctic. The afternoon fitness session towing tractor tires was a different matter though. Two of us to a tire, heads down, a slow and steady plod, for all the world like two faithful carthorses from an A.E.Houseman poem, it’s painful progress. Still, better than those rucksacks...

Kathryn Rose

We woke to another spattering of snow, excited that we might finally have the opportunity to practice sledge, or rather ‘pulk’, pulling. We loaded our packs on the sledge before stepping into our harness – improvised from a day pack. We were able to practice pulling our sledges across the hummocky, often water-logged terrain of the plateau. Away we strode for a few hours pretending the hummocks we had to heave our sledges over were the sastrugi (snow ridges) of the Antarctic. It was a lesson in how to manoeuvre your pulk, anticipating how it moves and when it might roll. The afternoon was strength training, pulling large farm tyres uphill in the cold to replicate the kind of weight we might have to drag when in Antarctica. After a few hours we were exhausted and happy to collapse back into our tent as it began to snow.

Ali Negyal

We woke up at 6.30 to practice our breakfast routines. It’s a slow motion, plate-spinning game of Twister to keep water on the boil, brushing off ice from the tent walls and preparing for the day.

We loaded everything into pulks (sleds), which we dragged behind us for a traipse across hummocky tundra. Minor snags aside, the pulks handle easily, which was a surprise. After a soupy lunch in a makeshift ‘bothy’ (emergency shelter), the training emphasis shifted from ‘stamina’ to ‘strength’, so we paired up to haul a tractor tyre along lonely roads.

The wheels of tent life are turning smoothly, and the in-jokes are fermenting. I share my tent with Henry and Geoff. We bunker down for the night from 3.00pm – entertainment is free-associative conversation and a roulette of freeze-dried food. It’s palatable and a far cry from Scott’s treats of biscuits fried in blubber and raisins soaked in tea.