We used this as a chance to get the word out about climate change, by trying to make this a carbon neutral expedition by minimising emissions, planting trees and other measures. It was a first hand demonstration to people that you can live a carbon neutral lifestyle, here is proof!

Most climate change impact studies have been done on low lying island communities and coastal areas affected by rising water levels, not much has been done (due to inaccessibility and remoteness) on communities who’s livelihoods depend on the icecap, thus this was a great chance to get their plight (and put a human face to it) exposed.

A lot of the research done on climate change has also just been scientific data (glaciers moving by this many metres per year, sea levels rising by this many centimetres, temperatures rising by this many degrees etc) and hardly any has been done on the human impact of global warming, how it affects cultures around the world and other traditional lifestyles. More “hard science” has been researched on climate change, but very little “social science” about its human impacts, and this is what this documentary was designed to do.

Information gained from this expedition is currently being used by various groups, and well as being presented by us to various schools and community groups to show them how global warming affects people around the world.

We started from where the pack ice meets the sea (icebergs!!), then climbed from sea level to 2700 up a glacier, and then once on the plateau weaved out way back down to sea level (at the fjord on the coast, Kangerlussuaq).

Climbing up the glacier at the start was our hardest task, it was here that the terrain was at its steepest, and it was here that our sleds and packs were at their heaviest. With my sled weighing about twice my weight, I found I had to transfer alot of the load into my backpack to give me added traction for the climbing, thus increasing my effective pulling mass. Each step you took up the glacier, the sled would try to pull you back down, even with skins on the sled sometimes won. Every step was a struggle as the sled wanted to go down the glacier whilst you wanted to go up. Often it was 3 steps up, 2 slides back!

The sastrugi we encountered here (sand dunes made of ice) made the terrain even more tiring, hauling up and over these large dunes, as did the often soft and sinky snow we encountered, as with all our weight, we just sank right through the soft powder, making every step a struggle.

During the first week of our initial climb up the glacier, a raging 5 day pitterak (katabatic wind) completely destroyed one of our tents and severely damaged another one. Even with a wall(taller than me) built up around both our expedition tents this still didn’t full protect us, the wind funnelled over the top of the wall then barrelled down on top of the tents. The tents were designed to take strong winds side on, but with the wind being channelled over the top since the wall was in the way (much like how a hole is formed on a river) our tents copped the full brunt of the pitterak.

The first of our tents literally dissolved (the poles snapped at all the joints, and the sleeves/clips on the tent tore open and thus were unusable), so we all scrambled into the second tent. However the poles in this second tent soon collapsed and the fabric tore leaving a large hole in the side wall. This left us to become human poles, bracing our bodies/heads against the tent fabric (much like a bothy bag) in order to creature some structure to support the tent, without which it would have just become a bivvy bag as it couldn’t have supported itself.

With the wind pouring in through the hole in the tent wall, and the snow being funnelled onto us (burying both vestibules, and slowly encroaching on us, shrinking the tent space by half, we ended up wearing all our clothes(down jackets, the works) to “bed”. “Sleeping” thus involved sitting up straight against one wall (like a pillar) to brace the tent(and getting a very sore neck), whilst at the same time kicking out the snow from the opposing wall with our feet(cold feet as they were constantly in contact with the snow), to avoid being buried by the spindrift that was blowing in.

The pitterak lasted for days, but throughout this time we managed some semblance of repairs to the structure of the tent. Trying to repair the tent whilst the pitterak was raging wasn’t the most fun task, it was bloody freezing and the wind was very strong and not too conducive to dextrous tent repairs, so this was very difficult. Weeks later we heard that another Danish team (slightly further west) had been caught in the exact same pitterak as us, and had had all their tents completely destroyed and spent a week sleeping a snow trench before being rescued by helicopter.

Thus we were very lucky, during the whole ordeal we were tempted to call for help, but realised that even if we did press the button, the chopper could only come in to fetch us once the pitterak had subsided, which would have been a week later. If the conditions were good enough for the chopper to fly in to get us, the conditions would have been good enough for us to get out and repair our tent (which it was). Thus calling for help at this stage would have been useless. Even the Danish team after calling for help had to spend a week in snow trenches before the choppers could fly in to fetch them.

We don’t know what the temperature was at this stage (we had a thermometer with a working range down to -40c, and below that it would just say “error, too low”, which it did at this time, so we at least know that it was well below -40c since the thermometer said this. However with the wind-chill, I hate to think how cold this actually made it. Over the next week, we discovered frostnip on our faces, and some minor frostbite on our finger tips (black, and large deep blood blisters), which made even minor chores quite difficult and painful.

Going to the toilet (for when you couldn’t use a pee bottle) in these conditions was quite “invigorating” to say the least. At least things would freeze or blow away nearly instantly, so any “mistakes” could just be brushed off! Our choice not to carry toilet paper (as we didn’t want to have to carry it out with us) made this even more interesting. When trying to take a dump with howling winds and snow funnelling up your behind, the only thing you can think about it getting it over and done with as soon as possible! I highly trying to take a dump during a raging pitterak, its one experience you will never forget!

In total, we ended up having 10 "enforced" rest days, due 2 pitteraks and sickness. We had a lot of fun/trouble navigating during the complete whiteouts (where you couldn’t see the ground/terrain, or past your hand), and had numerous days below -35c and VERY strong winds.

Navigation itself was quite difficult especially in whiteout conditions (which was most of the time!) where you couldn’t see the ground or your ski tips, let alone any of the terrain or features. Thus it was often the case that you had no line of site markers or features to focus on or aim for. Trying to keep our waist/chest mounted compasses level was quite difficult on the constantly varying and sloping terrain making it quite difficult to walk in a straight line.

It was often the case that the GPS would say we skied 10k, but we only made 7 or 8k in a straight line, due to all our swerving and correcting.  When you can’t see beyond your ski tips (and thus have no point to aim for) and can’t see the ground (so can’t tell if your skiing in a straight line) and your compass keeps moving, your navigation is often way out!

The days were long, and as soon as you got into camp for the day you just wanted to go to sleep, the last thing you wanted to do was more physical exercise, however a wall had to be built every night (taking around 2 hours or more). Snow blocks had to be cut and had to be very large and heavy, as smaller ones would just collapse or blow away in the strong winds. Melting snow for water (boiling) took just as long, so bedtime was usually well past midnight (and wakeup time around 6am, so as to have time reboil water and packup. Thus these long days and short sleep made it quite tiring!

Towards the end of the trip, we encountered a seemingly endless stretch of bullet proof blue ice over the last 3 days (a Danish team we met said they spend 4.5 days climbing it, cramponing all the way!) and had to anchor our tent with ice screws. The terrain was big huge bulges of ice with moguls and ridges often metres high. For most of this stretch we had to take our skis off as it was just way too slippery and treacherous, every step you would slip and slide with skis on. Falls and bruises were very much in abundance at this time!

We coined a new term, getting "pulked" whereby as you went down a slope, the sled would come down behind you, gathering momentum and bowling you over. The faster you went the faster the sled went, but it you tried to stop it would  crash into you and bowl you over(quite painful at high speed when the sled weighs more than you, much like being crash tackled by a professional wrestler!).

Worse than being bowled over by the sled however, was having the sled overtake you, or go a different direction to you. If you were on a ridge (with a large drop below) and the sled fell off the side, you would go down with it which was sometimes quite dangerous and scary as some of the drops were huge. Sometimes you wanted to go forwards, one ski wanted to go left, the other wanted to go right, and the sled wanted to go backwards, the ended with you being spread eagled and feeling like you're being torn apart by the terrain, not the most pleasant experience!

After this blue ice stretch came the dreaded melt water sections, filling out boots and clothes with bone numbing icy water. Here since it was warmer, a lot of the ice/snow had melted into slush or ice water, so that a lot of the time you would be up to mid thigh deep in freezing water, wetting out the whole lower half of your body, which made staying warm and dry a challenge!

The icecap itself ended 45km from the fjord and thus was just scree and tundra for the last 45 km. From here we left out sleds to be picked up, and walked out with hiking packs over 2 days, thus completing a full sea to see traverse of around 580km. 

The “journey” was not so much in the expedition alone, but the rather the whole trip, the planning and preparation stages, the training, and learning and research too.

Planning for every possible contingency and thing that could go wrong, catering for every possible mishap, planning for every possible thing that could break or no go to plan, to be in control, that was where most of our time and energies were expended.

Thus by the time we started the actual trip, we were pretty much worry free, as we were in control, having planned for every contingency. The worst aspect was actually finishing. It was weird, leading up to the end of the trip I was dreaming away of the meal I would have when I got out, but as soon as we got out, that second I suddenly felt depressed that it was all over, and wished I was back there. I wished the trip had never ended and I was still doing it.

There are those people today who live the same life, day in day out, predictable, risk free, dreamless, they are the harshest critics of those who strive to break free from this mundane existence. 

In this world, too many people are afraid to pursue the life they truly desire, too afraid of being criticised by others, too afraid of failing, too afraid of not knowing the way.  However there are also those who choose to follow their dreams, those who choose to rebel, those who strive to be free, those who live.

Stay true to yourself; break free from the chains of society and live.

May you to have the strength and courage to pursue your dreams.

Roger rogerchao(at)hotmail.com