Hector Macleod - Sleeping Arrangements

What a journey! 36 hours 8500 miles of which 14 hrs. was in a seat that seamed to be tailor made for Ronnie Corbett. This physical torture was compounded by a pair of 10-year-old boys sitting across the isles whose behavior deteriorated at a rate directly relative to the seemingly endless supply of Coca Cola.

Once I arrived at Santiago Airport a little worse for ware and very grumpy I was welcomed by Chileans Customs who spotted my 55 Peperami's, 2 Kg of the best Biltong money can buy and surprisingly 15 packets of dried mangos. The result of this, as mentioned in Malcolm's blog, was much confusion. This started with an impromptu probing search from a friendly black Labrador who picked up the scent of my two Tibetan terriers back home. Impressive bearing in mind my own scent was pretty rank by now and that mountains of my meaty smelling contraband surrounded us! A protracted and complicated negotiation ensued a cash fine was agreed, followed by some of the slowest receipt preparation I have ever witnessed. Finally Malcolm and I were released and with the ringing of rubber stamps in our ears as we raced to our connecting flight. When we had finally reached our destination, a beer and a trip to the statue of Magellan (it's meant to bring you luck) was very much in order!

Having survived all this I thought a stroll to the Pole would be a doddle in comparison. Then Hempie announced our sleeping arrangements on Antarctica. Two tents with five people! I can already feel my face squashed against the side of the freezing tent with someone's foot in a place only my wife has permission to go whilst listening to the ear splitting sound of Hempie snoring. I can hardly wait.

Malcolm Walker - On Standby!

I've lost track of the days of the week already but I've just been assured it's Thursday. This morning we went to a two hour briefing by the company that is organising our logistics. We had a slide show and I found the bits about the geography really interesting. The Antarctic is of course a land mass but the land is covered with ice which is 3,000 metres thick! I was at the North Pole two years ago which is just a floating sheet of ice - no land - and was astonished to find the ice was only 8 inches thick.

It's 3,000km from here (Punta Arenas) to Glacier Bay, where we land in the Antarctic, so we are not exactly close. That is a four and a half hour flight on a 30 year old Russian built jet (an Ilyushin, built in Siberia). It's a big wheeled aircraft and we land on a natural blue ice runway. It burns 84 tons of fuel for the return trip so it's not exactly an environmental expedition we are on, even though every scrap of waste for the entire trip (even our toilet waste) has to be carried with us and brought back to Chile. 

We camp a couple of nights at Glacier Bay and then fly on again in a Twin Otter ski plane for another 1,000km to within two degrees of the pole. From there we ski the last 140 miles which is expected to take about 15 days.

We were shown some pretty gruesome pictures of frostbite injuries which focused the mind. The temperature can be anything down to minus 50 but it's the wind chill that does the damage and this is the coldest, driest, windiest place on earth. I THINK I have all the right kit but I am now searching the hotel for a sewing kit as I want to sew a square of sheepskin onto the nose part of my face mask.

I was told about a guy who couldn't unscrew the top of his flask so he took his glove off but then his finger froze to the metal on the flask. He lost his finger. I'm just a bit worried about how to go to the toilet. If I'm to lose anything I'd prefer a finger!

We are now technically on standby and could leave at any time (even during the night) with only one hour's notice. It's all about the weather forecast. In reality I'm assured we will probably leave on Friday. After that the only contact is by satellite phone.

It's actually quite relaxing here. The town is not too bad. There is a 3G mobile network which is more than we have in parts of Cheshire. There are good restaurants and we are enjoying loading up the calories. I replenished my confiscated dried fruit from the local supermarket. We seem to be getting through a lot of alcohol. Pisco Sour is the local drink, which is quite dangerous, and the Chilean wine is very good. Last night we spent at The Shackleton Bar. It was all in the cause of learning about the history of the place of course.

The team enjoying their history lesson at the Shackleton Bar

Malcolm Walker - Arrested in Santiago

So we finally made it. Well, to the starting point of our adventure that is - Punta Arenas, the most southerly city on earth. After 30 hours of travelling we arrived at the hotel, which is surprisingly good. There is a plaque outside on the wall stating that this was the old post office where Robert Falcon Scott posted 400 letters home after his first trip to the Antarctic. We are indeed following in his footsteps.

The scenic highlight of our journey so far was Madrid airport, which has to be one of the wonders of the world. It's pretty obvious where the Spanish debt mountain occurred. The Iberia lounge was pretty amazing and a good place to kill six hours waiting for our connecting flight drinking a selection of Spanish red wines. That seemed to fortify me for the 13 hour flight to Santiago during which I managed to sleep for 12 hours. I was travelling business class which proved to be worth every penny when the others emerged bleary eyed from economy, having endured unimaginable torture in the most cramped seats of any airline. Two of the guys, Matthew and Hector, are the tallest guys I've ever met and are now crippled for life.

I knew when I got the kit list from Hempie months ago we would be in for trouble. Hempie is not the best organiser in the world and since we are going somewhere with 24 hour sun it seemed odd that a head torch was on the list. I followed his instruction to pack 16 munchie bags, one for every day on the ice. We need 8,000 calories each day and have to stop every hour to refuel. "Pack anything you like, pepperami sausage, beef jerky, dried fruit." I took the healthy option and packed majool dates, dried apricots, prunes, sultanas and energy bars.

Nobody ever reads the small print on the immigration forms. Just tick all the "no" boxes and struggle to find your passport number and flight details. I'm aware most countries don't like you bringing in fresh fruit or vegetables or fresh meat but Hempie's been here six times before and should know the rules so dried fruit should be OK. To my surprise the customs at Santiago were manned by dozens of people and they scanned every bag on a bank of machines. It seemed unusual for me to see this going INTO a country.

A nice young man that reminded me of Manuel from Fawlty Towers offered to help and guide us to our connecting flight. After we had been through the scanner he casually asked if I had any dried fruit and like a fool I said "Yes". My travelling companions scarpered quickly with their illegal contraband and I was left having my bag searched. Hector soon joined me as the scanner had picked up a year's supply of pepperami sausage in his bag. Apparently it's common for trekkers to bring dried fruit and they are easily identified by their specialist trekking bags.

What followed was two hours of interrogation by four different members of the Ministry of Agriculture. They were pleasant enough but more concerned that I had falsified a legal document, the customs form, and this was a heinous crime to be punished by a big fine or worse. I tried every excuse to no avail. I explained I was in transit to the Antarctic but they explained the Antarctic was Chile. I'm not sure they are right. I told them I needed the calories for the trek and without them I would probably die. "Try roasted penguin" was their response.

Eventually legal documents were typed up confessing my crime, which I had to sign, and then they had to consider the punishment. After much debate, because this was our first offence they decided to levy the lowest fine of US $250 each which had to be paid in local currency. Now we had to change money, more paperwork and forms to sign, and I'm panicking about missing the next flight. Then an official with one hand was designated to count the money. This took him ages and several times he dropped the money before he succeeded ... but then he had to write a receipt. My God.

Anyway, here we are. A great meal and more red wine last night. I'm having breakfast now but Justin's gone for a run. You can take this fitness thing too far.

Malcolm Walker - The Training Starts Tomorrow

I’ve just been reading what our Great Leader David Hempleman-Adams has been saying about the Expedition to that well-known paper of record, the Swindon Advertiser. He was going on about the challenge of “leading a group of alpha males”, which seemed very flattering. No one has ever called me an alpha male before.

Then he went on to share his concerns about the team: “They’re all competitive and my biggest fear is that they will go out to try to prove to each other how fit they are. So my role is to try and slow them down.”

Well, the good news for David is that he doesn’t need to lose a single moment’s sleep worrying about me on that score. I’m definitely not going to be trying to show off my amazing fitness and high levels of preparation.

Not least because I still haven’t done any proper training.

Still, all is not lost. My personal trainer is coming around to my house to make a start at five o’clock tomorrow. My colleagues at Iceland were really impressed with my commitment when I told them that, until they realised that I meant five in the evening, not the morning.

Other than that, I’ve spent about a thousand pounds on kit in Snow+Rock, which should help to boost the next Government statistics on the state of the economy. Though I forgot to buy the down bootees that are apparently essential wear if I am not to lose my feet to frostbite during the night. A pair is on its way from the Lake District by emergency courier as I write this.

On Sunday it will be 42 years to the day since I opened the very first Iceland store in Oswestry – a sort of double 21st birthday – and it would be nice to mark the anniversary with a little celebration. Instead I’ll be doing my least favourite thing in the world, which is packing. Many people think hanging around in airports and getting through security are the worst aspects of travelling, but for me it’s always been sorting out the stuff you need to take with you.

Ironically Hempie’s restrictions on what we are allowed to take make it all the harder this time. For Everest last year I just shoved everything I could possibly need under any circumstances into a big container and had it shipped out to Nepal. Half of it was destroyed before we even got to Everest, when one of our supply lorries ran off a cliff, but I didn’t even notice the difference.

This time I am going to have to think very carefully indeed about every single thing I take, considering on the one hand that I am going to have to drag it on a sled across the ice for up to 19 days, and on the other hand that it might just save my life.

This morning my PA caught sight of the huge mountain of stuff that I’ve already dug out for the trip and asked what the hell I thought I was doing.

“You’re only allowed 23kg of baggage on the flight,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“That’s the limit in economy. You’re flying economy with the rest of the team.”

“No, I’m bloody not! How long is the flight to Santiago?”

“Thirteen hours. And you’ve got to fly economy. There isn’t anything else.”

“Then I’m not bloody going. I never fly economy – and certainly not for 13 hours!”

It turned out that she had made a mistake, and I’m now going business class. What a relief that was, until someone else at the office asked: “If you’re going to spend over two weeks sleeping five in a tent at minus 40 degrees, why on earth would you be worried about taking an economy flight to get out there?”

I had to admit that she’s got a point. Maybe I need to pack in some mental as well as physical training over the next 72 hours.

Meanwhile, I see from the Swindon Advertiser that Hempie is heading off for the Antarctic tomorrow, presumably to make things ready for our arrival. I’m not flying out until Monday. At least this will avoid a repeat of the confidence-sapping moment on our way to Everest last March, when we all set off together, and the great explorer nearly missed our flight because he managed to get lost at Heathrow Airport.

David Hempleman-Adams - Last Minute Packing

I’m doing the last minute packing before I leave tomorrow a couple of days ahead of everybody else.

Although I’ve been on several trips like this there’s always something new and challenging. It’s always a very apprehensive time, making sure all the gear has arrived. It’s not much fun if your skis are on one flight, your boots are going in the other direction and you arrive in South America just in your skiddies!

It is very interest on these trips to see the group develop. First of all you get the macho alpha male bullshit until they realise that at minus 40 no one gives a damn then people start to settle down.

The first time the whole team will meet up will be in Punta Arenas. At the moment we haven’t decided on who is going in each tent. The only thing I am sure of is that I will be leading the group and Justin will be helping.

At the present time we’re not sure if there will be 10 or 11 people in all.; this throws up many variables. If we have 11 people we will have 2 tents of 4 and 1 tent of 3. It will be completely different if we only have 10 as we could have 2 tents of 4 and 1 of 2 or 1 tent of 4 and 2 of 3 but I think for camaraderie and speed of putting the tents up and down it would be better to simply have 2 tents of 5. The big problem with this is that we have 2 huge horses coming, one in the name of Hector Macleod and one in the name of Matt Pinsent so we will definitely have to split those two up. I will also be splitting the soldiers up. We will have to put a lot of thought in to it.

Once I arrive in Punta the business of sorting the kit which we freighted down in advance will start. Nick Martin and his son Sam are flying down with me to lend a hand. We will be preparing the sleds for each individual and adapting everything for the South Pole. We will be testing the tracking device, sat phones and stoves. This is the last place that we can make any modifications or get any replacements. It will be a long few days and it will be very late before we can relax with the help of our Pisco Sour. This is a lethal local cocktail of rocket fuel with a dash of lemon. I had my first tasted this 20 years ago, the first one was delicious but on the second one I couldn’t find my mouth and ended up wearing it all down my front; they really are that lethal!

One day before we fly in to Antarctica we will visit the statue of Magellan. There is a local superstition that if you kiss the toe of the statue you will come back safely; It takes a very brave person not to do it!

We will have a final briefing and a last check of the gear before we get ready for our flight to Union Glacier camp  in the Antarctic – then the real training starts.