The day started wrapped in my cocoon but buoyed by the familiar sounds of the voices of some of those who spent the night away from camp. It had been a difficult night (getting up in the middle of the night for a pee is annoying, doing it when it’s -40 is a disaster, having to do it twice is a downright affront from your own bladder!), but knowing most had returned really raised the spirits. Once finally unwrapped, kit packed away and porridge had by the fire, the most spectacular sunrise greeted us and we knew it would be a good day. Day 1 was the difficult day, but day 2 would be 6km shorter and pretty much a breeze, all things considered.
The mood changed. Due to the bitter conditions overnight one of us had actual frostbite setting in and would need urgent hospital attention. Whilst re-harnessing ourselves to our ‘beloved’ pulks (without me my pulk is nothing, without my pulk I am nothing…..), another of us was severely suffering from hypothermic symptoms and also needed immediate assistance. So even before setting out the happiness of so many rejoining the group was worryingly evaporated by two others leaving.
But, as the previous day taught me; you put your brave face on, smile, keep your head up, and march forward with purpose; stay positive and all will be positive! Except the day’s route started with an immediate steep ascent; no easy break in or nice flat river to build up on, just off you pop up a ridiculously abrupt slope. So much so that it claimed another of group, and less than hour into the day the team was already down by three.
Due to the obvious priority of those needing care the BSE group of guides (Lee and Les) was now required elsewhere. Nicole – a BSE employee, but here as a trekker like the rest of us – had the unenviable task of becoming of our lead guide. Yes, she would still be supported by the boundless determination of Heikki and Kuuti, but that is still a role you would not want thrust upon you in such unforgiving terrain and conditions. Nicole was sensational all day, she didn’t just take on the role she excelled in it. I don’t have a great enough command of language to fully show my admiration for how she kept us together that day.
After regrouping we set off on our second assault of the day; a trip along woodland trails which mostly would be uphill on relatively fresh powder-ish snow. It was tough going. Unlike the day before where most surfaces were solid underfoot, with each step here you sunk a little or slid slightly, that doesn’t sound much but the reality is every stride took three times the effort of a normal one. The reward? Absolute jaw-dropping vistas, becoming eye-popping panoramas the higher we climbed. I’m not ashamed to admit I fell in love (I’d fall back out later) with Northern Finland and its beauty. The other thing I noticed was the colours were so weird because there was no period of full-on ‘day-time’. In the UK, irrelevant of the time of day during the year, at some point the sun will be above you, but not so in the Arctic Circle. The sun climbed to just above eye height then started dipping again, you’d be thinking “oh, it must be getting late in the afternoon, we’re making great progress!” nope! It was 1:30pm. It was either dawn or dusk, with nowt between!
A tactic I figured out to help keep me sane was to try to mix up my position in the group where possible, this meant moving at different paces but more importantly speaking to different people. That morning I had the pleasure of being in a faster moving group at the front consisting of Iain, Dougie, Vicky and Jen – and of course our leader Nicole. Oh my days it was funny! With these guys never was a moment dull, the ‘banter’ was caring, cutting, sensitive and slick, and Christ-on-a-bike did I need it.
Our fast pace meant we’d steam ahead of those behind which leant to much stopping to allow them to catch up, and – as we’d learned the day before – as soon as you stand still the cold whips away the generated warmth. On top my mental state was on the slide; very little sleep the night before and the water in my flask was so cold every time I drank from it I got brain-freeze, so I stopped drinking it. I also made the cardinal sin; I didn’t tell anyone.
The difficulties eased as we had a sharp descent down to a road for lunch, I’d figured out how to ‘walk’ my pulk downhill so after a strenuous morning it was nice to saunter a little while. However, like with everything, the good came with more bad; two more would be leaving due to injury. My heart sank. Were they OK? Would I go next? Would they cancel the whole thing? Am I selfish for thinking the previous two questions?
Then, out of nowhere came the light relief. Before leaving in the morning we were all given cheese and ham wraps for lunch from Jo, with the strict instructions of popping them inside our jackets so our body heat would keep them good. Sure enough, I tucked into a gorgeously toasty wrap, for the last few hours I literally had one in the oven. Except Kuuti. The experienced outdoors-man amongst us took to lobbing his into his pulk, so we had the joy of watching him felate a frozen wrap!
Lunch done we braced ourselves for the third assault; a very steep bank down to a frozen lake, then just over 6km along the lake. We all know how much we don’t like frozen lakes, but this is in the day-time, it’d be fine!!
On the lake we started with purpose sometimes dodging the brown slush of over-flow, but we’d been warned of this during the ’Acclimatisation Day’ briefing. Basically sometimes the ice cracks a little to allow some water up over it, and the thick layer of snow above insulates it so it stays liquid, not a thing to worry about! And then you see a giant fucking hole in the ice. And Heikki is no longer breaking a trail on his snow-mobile. And we all have to stand still beside the giant hole whilst a decision is made. And then we are told it’s not safe, go back the way we came.
Back on land the decision was made to walk about 3km around the tip of Lake Doom (not its real name) and tackle it from a different angle. We duly obliged. Once again on Lake Doom I can say I was genuinely petrified; we didn’t see any more holes but I feared we’d make them! Again a lake would provide a different mental challenge; I wanted off it as quickly as possible so wanted to power on. For others, the fear of being consumed by Lake Doom meant frequent stops. It was a lose-lose situation.
Except we won! All dry and above ice we departed the frozen lake in an untold state of relief. We had a brief jaunt alongside a road, before turning on to a track, which would then leave an apparently easy trail to camp. Excitement almost rippled!
We had a brief stop, I was still unable to drink my frozen water, and we set down the track. It was completely iced over so made pulling the pulk easier than it had been, and according to Kuuti it was only 2km to the trail. We kept going. And going. And going. My mind went.
Now dehydrated from refusing my own cold water I was getting angry at everything. Angry at my teammates for not moving fast enough, angry at Kuuti because this seemed longer than 2km, angry at my pulk for sliding about on the icy road, angry that it was now dark, angry my head-torch wasn’t bright enough, angry that I was doing this stupid trek, angry I couldn’t see my wife and children, angry at being angry cos I don’t like being angry, angry at… OH LEAVE ME ALONE!
* Deep breath *
The turn off on the woodland trail arrived. Realising the mistakes I’d made during the day I sheepishly told John I was dehydrated and my prediction from 24 hours earlier had come true. John, like the friend he is – and at some point during the trek he would look out of each one of us on – spoke to me with calm and dignity, and sacrificed the majority of his water supplies. Never have I been so thankful.
This made me realise something; out there in those conditions you cannot bullshit anyone. Most people will put up some kind of mask, facade or barrier to cope with everyday life, but where we were those must be stripped away and you have to expose yourself (in metaphorical terms, not literal, that’d be actual lunacy!) as yourself. Sounds twee, but it’s true.
Anyway, knowing the mood I was in I positioned myself to the back of the team to keep out of everyone’s way, and no matter it was alleged it would be an easy 2km amble into camp. Of course it wouldn’t!
Obviously the trail was uphill, with fresh snow, and a lot longer than 2km. Again it was stop-start; it felt like we’d walk for 30 seconds, stop for 30, walk for 30, stop for 30, blah-di-blah….. It was still around -30 at this point so stopping saw any warm left in me pour out, and I was so tired I was yawning away with tunnel vision kicking in. In the woods, in the dark, when you’re tired delirium starts to work and I was convinced each time I looked into the trees animals were looking back at me. Nonetheless, I still tried to keep the positive outlook, and spoke with Jessica and Laura over those last horrid hills.
Then, all off a sudden, the camp was directly in front of me! I literally ran down the hill into camp, unharnessed myself from the pulk, donned my down-jacket, and strode confidently to the fire.
Neil and Jo welcomed us once again, and once again their camp preparation was brilliant. I feasted on a wonderfully peppery vegetable soup (three portions), and a delightful chicken and chorizo hot-pot (three portions), a sugary tea, and a lot of water. Despite all us enjoying the tales around the fire there would be no sitting up around the fire tonight. We’d learned from our errors from the previous night, our tents were set-up for sleeping in seconds, and we’d all be in them before 10:00pm.
We were told Day 1 would be the ‘difficult’ day, but in fact day 2 was savage. I think everyone left a bit of something out on the trail that day, but bedding down we knew we only had one more night of sleeping under nylon before we started the end of something that had consumed all of us for the last 8 to 20 months…………
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