Suitably layered up - for me that meant 3 pairs of socks, long-johns with trousers, a base-layer with thermal fleece, insulated jacket, 2 pairs of gloves and a hat (I’ll come to learn that hats with bobbles have absolutely no place in the Arctic. None whatsoever, they’re about as much point as a sombrero! More on that later, though). We gathered outside the hotel, loaded our pulks, got harnessed to the pulks, and set off to meet the excellent Heikki and Kuuti from ‘Rollout Doors’. These two local guides, with the guys from BSE, would be incredible during the trek and our success would depend upon them. Although over the days Kuuti’s idea of what allegedly constitutes 2km would leave a lot to be desired! But group intact we headed north out of town along a frozen river.
It was -25 that morning, but felt lower with the wind chill factor, and crikey did you feel it! If I was amazed by a few hairs on my face freezing the day before, an entirely ice filled beard today blew my mind!! But wanting to make a good start, the head was kept down and other than a couple of quick water and snack stops we ploughed on through to lunch. After 13km of trekking on a frozen river and lake, the sight of Jo and Neil with soup and a sandwich was incredibly welcoming. Stopping for a decent period of time you did notice that any warmth built up from walking was quickly sapped out of you in no time at all when standing still, and before we set-off again Les had to take one of us trekkers off to get warmed up to combat early signs of frostbite. Only half-way through day 1 and the trek team of 18 was reduced to 17.
After lunch we had a relatively pleasant ‘stroll’ along woodland trails being stunned by the sheer beauty of the place, everywhere you looked seemed worthy of a photo. The pastel colours were astonishing, and were the sort you just would not see in the UK! However, as the sun faded away about 3:30pm the trail became narrower, trickier, and we approached an 800m section known to Lee as simply ‘The Pain in the Arse Section’.
Despite only being 800m long, this is a downhill, steep, twisty, snow-packed, constricted battle with branches, and all done whilst wearing snow shoes. And having never worn shoe shoes before I may as well have been wearing flippers such was my new found exaggerated gait! Pain in the arse doesn’t quite cut it though, it’d take us the best part of an hour to do only 800m!! Oh, and it was now dark, so only our own head torches would light the way.
We split into smaller groups and I led and assisted Jude and Diane down through the trees. To be fair, not that they really needed my advice or encouragement, but this assumed responsibility gave me greater purpose and kept me going. We conquered ‘The Pain in the Arse Section’ with success; completely expletive laden (“fucking pulk” in increasing anger was pretty much the soundtrack here), injury free, and arrived to the assumed safety of a frozen lake. Never has a group of people been so collectively wrong! We had descended to hell, not safety.
Once the group were all back together and snow shoes removed, we set off for the final 8km up the lake. We could see the glint of the camp fire in the distance, but when you’re staring along a sheet of ice and snow this isn’t a comfort it’s torture; the fire never seems to get closer, irrelevant of how fast you or far you go. By this time the temperature had plummeted to -38, but with the wind chill it felt like -42. Chuck in that it was pitch black and completely silent, it was a desolate place to be. A few of us succumbed to the freezing conditions as well as the physical and mental exertion and were rescued by Heikki and Neil on snow-mobiles.
I found my way through hell by firstly looking up at the clear sky and stars – oh it was beautiful, never had I seen a sky so big and full! – and by helping my fellow trekkers who had become isolated after the group had become fractured due to some sprinting to the finish, and those who couldn’t carry on. The last of whom was Lynn. I asked her to follow me into camp, and we occasionally laughed and joked but otherwise the silence was punctured by my frequent check-ins of – and this is now the only way I can possibly greet her – “Lynn?! You still with us?!”
As we approached camp the Northern Lights streamed across the sky like a glorious celebration, again this would be hell tricking us.
As the group tried to thaw out by the fire the temperature dropped further to -40, it was so cold that heat from the fire didn’t radiate enough to melt the snow immediately beside it, but it took its toll on the team. Slowly but surely 7 more of us were suffering from the onset of hyperthermia or frostbite and were whisked away to safety. 18 was now only 10. It was unnerving seeing so many go as you feared you might be next. Each time you tried to go away from the fire to do something as easy as lay out your sleeping bag, the cold meant after only a couple of minutes you had to give up and run back to the heat.
Although I wouldn’t sleep that night – mostly because it was -40, but partly because both being 6 foot tall, John and I didn’t exactly fit comfortably in the tent! – I finished pretty chuffed that I’d battled along 30km of an incredibly tough day, and sat up by the fire with Jude, Neil and Jo laughing and joking, and were rewarded with an even better Aurora show.
Interestingly, when all around us were suffering and John and I were doing our best to put on a positive front, we checked-in with each other’s mental state, my cheery reply to him was “I’m actually grand! But in 24 hours’ time no doubt I'll be having a hissy fit and a suffering though!”. Perhaps my only correct prediction……
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