South Pole. The Return Home

Alan, Dave, and myself were all looking forward to a rest day. We were all a little bewildered, especially me, after having spent 2 months on the ice with virtually no social influence. Spending time at ALE’s South Pole camp with our 4 considerate and enlightened hosts was perfect. It gave us time to start the readjustment to the life we had left behind months ago. That first day at the South Pole camp was a dreamy day. It was the first day I had had off for weeks and I lapped it up. Twitty, the cook, also kept trays of delicious food for us on the counter and we could help ourselves. The hosts also provided a well stocked drinks tray with teas and coffees, soft drinks and even wine, both red and white. Of all the things I craved, wine was well down the list, probably below broccoli even, and a mug of it would have knocked me out.

We all had problems walking well. Without the sticks to support each side and the pulk to anchor us our sense of balance was not functioning well. Every step felt like I was walking on a small fishing boat on a choppy sea and it was difficult to keep a straight line. I did not move far all day; just between my small heated tent and the large communal tent when the others were, and also all the food. Both were warm, comfortable and spacious and it was a delight to be able to stand up. I spent some of the day having frequent siestas in my own tent, basking in the warmth of the heater and the sun. When I woke from my snoozes I was a bit perplexed at first until I realised I had finished and fully deserved to snooze. With glee I rolled over and went back to sleep.  

There was also the occasional visit to the toilet which was a small metal container. The pee went into a 5 gallon container under the urinal where it froze and the turds were laid into a large plastic bag beneath the seat, where they also froze. The swag bag and the pee container, both with their frozen contents, were then transported by plane to Union Glacier and on to Chile to be dealt with. 

During the afternoon Polish Robert and Swedish Per arrived at the end of their journey from the Messner start. It was just a bit shorter than mine but the two routes shared the difficult route from Thiel Fuel Cache onwards through the rough terrain of the 86 and 87 degrees. It was good to see them and the joy they had in their eyes when they walked into the main mess tent where I was chatting with Alan and Dave. Soon Devon and Cedar arrived also after they had volunteered to take photos for everybody at the south pole. 

That evening we all ate together with a large meal cooked by Twitty. There was a lot of banter and reminiscing about various parts. Cedar and Devon were more experienced than any of us except perhaps Alan Chambers, and had a lot of witty stories and insights into Polar travel and the trip we had just done. During our meal it was confirmed that the plane to take us back to Union Glacier was already en route. It was bringing a few more ALE staff to help dismantle the South Pole Camp in the next week. Apparently all the tents, kitchen equipment, heaters, vehicles, snow scooters and most other things would be arranged under a huge tarpaulin. The edges of the tarpaulin would then be covered with snow to keep it in pace and some snow thrown on top to weigh it down. The whole camp would then remain under the tarpaulin over the winter waiting to be dug up again in November and set up again. It was quite remarkable the whole place would be packed away. Apparently much of the design of the camp and the storage was the brainchild of Devon McDiarmid who had developed his skills in the Canadian Arctic where he spent the summers. 

When the 1942 model DC 3 arrived in the late afternoon the crew Devon and Cedar started to load it with tomorrow’s return flight with some equipment which could not overwinter here. They had it done by mid evening. We were told to have our pulks ready packed for loading at 0800 the next morning for departure at 0900. It did not take long and Alan and Dave helped me strip the electrical tape from my tent poles so I could fold them up and pack my tent. In the evening the crew of the DC 3 arrived having got everything ready for tomorrow. The pilot looked like a very experienced old-timer who had cut his teeth flying bush and mountain flights in the Canadian Rockies and had seen it all.

In the morning it was time to say goodbye to the tranquil South Pole camp and head back to the real world again. The flight we were taking was in a 82 year old DC 3 built in 1942. It had even had a minor crash 30 years ago when it slid off an icy runway in Indiana. It was repaired and modified for the Polar regions where it remains a workhorse and is owned by Kenn Borek Air. They seemed a very can-do charter airline and they came to Antarctica each year to support ALE’s operations. To operate successfully in Antarctica you must have a determination and willingness to get the job done. You need experienced and skilled people who could make judgement calls based on experience rather than slavishly following procedures which would entangle them to a standstill. Ken Borek Air was exactly this. We took our seats in the plane beside a pile of cargo strapped up under blankets, including snow scooters, our pulks and barrels of fuel. In the back of the plane, behind a curtain was a simple port-a-potty with a strap round it to stop it sliding about. The engines revved up and we taxied past the large Scott-Amundsen South Pole Station to the icy runway with the plane on skid rather than tyres. The engines then hurtled the plane down the icy runway pinning us to the back of the seat until we took off and the snow field dropped away as we became airborne.

The flight back to Union Glacier was pretty much over the same path which had taken me over two months to ski. It was a vast empty landscape with virtually no features for 500 or so kilometres, which took nearly 2 hours, until we got to the Thiel Mountains. Although the window kept icing up , as there was no heating in the plane, I could scrape it quick enough to see a view of it but any n photographs would be no use due to the frost. In another hour and a half we approached the Ellsworth Mountains and the sun was on the window sufficiently to reduce the frosted condensation build up. It was a terrific flight over the multiple ridges at the south east end of the range. There were some large glaciers here flowing down from the cirques which were almost completely full of ice. Where the glaciers accelerated away from the cirques, or sheared as they changed direction, were huge glaciers, big enough to swallow a house.  The plane veered west and then descended over more crevasses with some of the biggest being just to the east of Union Glacier. The touchdown was smooth. 

Outside it was relatively warm at about minus 5-10 degrees. Mark Reed was waiting for us as we touched down and pretty soon Lucy arrived. They both got big hugs from everyone. It was great to see their smiles and joy as they had followed our trips. I went over to the medics to see who was there and to say hello. Paddy and Sarah had gone but Doc Martin was there, and in his usually high spirits. I had wanted to go to the Operations cabin to see Phil and Tim and also the Comms cabin to see Dave, Robert, Alex, and Catho but unfortunately I did not have time. I only had 2 hours to retrieve my bags from storage where Lucy was looking after them, repack my pulk, get into my travel clothes, and check-in for my next flight from Union Glacier to Punta Arenas in 2 hours time. It did not take as long as I thought as I kept most of my skiing clothes on, but did manage to dig out my shorts and put them on for the flight. It was then into the mess tent to see Patrick and the Finns who had been relaxing here for a couple of days and were recovering from their expedition. I did not recognise that many of the staff but knew Coleen Wilson was working in the kitchen and I wanted to see her and thank her for the messages of support at the beginning. I knew she had been following my blog also. Another warm hug. 

The mess tent soon filled up with people. Most had been on a Mount Vinson expedition; some with Madison Mountaineering, some with Adventure Consultants, and some with other outfitting companies. Many had their fingers bandaged as they had suffered frostnip. I think it was well into the minus forties near the summit and there had been some strong winds making a wind chill of around minus 60. It was much colder than anything the ski expeditions experienced. I sat next to Patrick and two of the world’s most accomplished climbers, a Scot called David Hamilton and an American called Garrett  Madison, although I did not know it at the time as they were remarkably modest. David said he had met me before and had introduced me to the audience at a talk I gave some 14 years ago to the Alpine Ski Club in London. I was so nervous at the time I barely remembered. Soon Poppis and the Finns arrived and also Alan and Dave. Alan knew David Hamilton from previous trips. 

After lunch we boarded the truck and drove the 5-6 km to the Blue-Ice runway where the plane was loading. It was nice to just carry my small day bag as ALE was transporting the kit bags and my pulk separately and I would not see them until they would appear on the luggage belt at Punta Arenas. The plane was surprisingly full as the season was coming to an end. David Hamilton saw me searching for a seat and invited me to sit beside him. It was only during the flight that I realised just what an accomplished mountaineer and skier was, especially in the Karakoram Range, where he ran a guiding company, and also in the Himalayas. It was a privilege to sit next to him for the 5 hour flight. We chatted continually for the entire duration with the occasional glance out of the window at the Ellsworth Mountains, which were on the other side of the plane out of the west window. 

When we arrived in Punta Arenas I met Carlos at the airport. He gave me a hearty hug and congratulations. He was a customer services organiser for ALE and was at the airport to help ferry the 50 clients and 50 staff on a fleet of buses to take us back to town. My pulk was going to the ALE warehouse where I could repack it later, but me and my 4 holdalls were going back to the Endurance Hotel which Carlos had already booked for me. I was the first stop for the bus as it went round town dropping everyone off. The staff at the hotel remembered me and there were more hugs and congratulations before I finally got to my room at about 2230. Outside it was now dark. The first darkness I had seen in nearly 10 weeks. I made the mistake of connecting to the internet and saw I had over 1000 emails, messages and facebook notifications. I glanced through them quickly but noticed one was from Radio Scotland about an interview in the morning at 0600 Chilean time. That was the end of my lie-in. 

The alarm awakened me from a deep sleep. I was groggy with sleep and had a shower before the interview. As arranged they phoned me on Whatsapp at 0550 for the interview. I was a bit of a stupor during it and felt I could not describe the experience properly in the allocated 6-7 minutes. After the interview I went back to bed to have my longed-for lie in. When I woke I was a bit bewildered but luckily I had left a clean set of clothes at the hotel which I put on and went to get my haircut and a full shave. It took a good hour at the hairdresser to tidy me up as he went to town with his clippers and gadgets.

As I wandered from the hairdresser to the Wake Up Cafe for lunch I noticed I was not walking well. My balance had been dulled by weeks of using ski sticks and being anchored to the pulk. People must have thought I had been drinking as I veered across the pavements with my legs feeling clumsy and wooden. At Wake Up I bumped into David Hamilton again and he invited me to sit at his table. We were soon joined by Mike Sharp and his wife Olga. Mike had been one of the 5 partners at ALE until a few years ago when he retired and sold his share. He had a very long and distinguished pedigree in  Antarctica spanning nearly 50 years. It was fascinating listening to him about his time there.

I had wanted to go and explore the forests above Punta Arenas as I did before I left for Antarctica in November. However, I just could not muster the enthusiasm and energy, and when the time came I went back to the hotel, pulled down the blind and had a long siesta waking in the late afternoon.. There was a message from Poppis that the remaining people who had been on a ski expedition were meeting in a restaurant at 1900. Al and Davie had already left, and Poppis and the Finns were going from the restaurant straight to the airport. I got there a little late to find the 3 Finns, Patrick, Robert and Per had all made it. It was a celebratory meal for all of us and we were full of spirits and comparisons of the best sections and the more difficult sections. I sat next to Patrick who had had the most challenging trip of all of us and took it all in his stride. It was the last time I would see them as everybody departed Chile that evening or the next day. I still had not bought a ticket. 

When I did it was for a couple of days away. I would have 3 flights. One to Santiago with the easy, reliable LATAM where I would have a few hours before the long 14 hour flight with LEVEL to Barcelona. It was a full and chaotic flight and I was squashed into a middle seat as their booking system was down. Luckily there were good films. I then spent the night in a hotel in Barcelona before the 3 hour flight to Edinburgh the next day. I tracked all my luggage with the Apple airtags but it was not so critical now if anything got delayed. I eventually got to Edinburgh some 48 hours after leaving Punta Arenas. Fiona picked me, all my bags and the pulk up at the airport and we were soon home. I had everything with me and the expedition was over. It was time to relax now and bask in having completed it.

Initially I was quite relaxed when I returned and went for small walks in the hills around Edinburgh. A few people suggested I should have a large party but the thought of organising it and then hosting it was too much. I was quite happy to do very little and just remain at home. I did have a fair amount of paperwork to catch up on after 3 months away and I found it quite easy to withdraw into my study light the stove and work, somewhat inefficiently, on tasks which had to be done like my accounts for the year. Perhaps I rested on my laurels a bit too much as half of the weight I lost in Antarctica sneaked back on again in these unguarded weeks. Quiet unexpectedly I was contacted by the Guiness Book of Records and asked to confirm some details which Steve Jones of ALE had given them. It was not my intention to become the oldest soloist to ski to the south pole or the oldest to ski there unsupported; I did it for the adventure of it, but I was. Once I had confirmed a few details they sent me a certificate with my records and said they would put it in the next book to be published in September. 

One thing I did notice about the trip was how quickly the memory of it faded. In all my other long expeditions and walks I still remember the distinctive days, the people and wildlife I encountered and the scenery. However on this trip there was very little to punctuate the days, not even nightfall. Everything seemed to blur into one long endless day and this day was divided into good weather or bad weather. Had I not written a blog and taken photographs with the location or date on them I would have been struggling to remember sections and even place the events which happened. I dare say in a few years it will all be a blur and I will have to re-read my blog to jog my memory. Yet my other 4 big trips are still crystal clear. It must be that memories are created by visual, social and sensory events and there were very few on this expedition. I think because of this I wont cherish it as much as the Ski Paddle Norway trip for instance, which I will remember and cherish to my deathbed. 

After some 6 weeks of being quite lazy and a bit haphazard I started to get more organised. Initially I didn’t  even manage to arrange to go to Norway for a week’s skiing in the spring with a small rucksack; something I had been looking forward to when I was in Antarctica. I did at last manage to get my act together in mid March and went off on a walk in Scotland with my tent for a short week.  

  

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