Call of the White (26 page)

I considered taking an executive decision and reshuffling the groups anyway, regardless of Kylie's protestations, but I hesitated. Reshuffling the groups would cause disruption to the systems and routines that were now working so efficiently and to switch everyone around would take time and organisation. In the other tent, Era, Sophia and Steph worked really well together and we enjoyed each other's company. I knew how much I myself relied on their camaraderie to keep me going each day and felt disappointed for Kylie that she wasn't having the same experience.

I opened my eyes the next morning but didn't move. Silently I watched the gloves, goggles and watches hung on the washing line above me dance in the gentle vibration of the tent caused by the low wind outside. Pulling my sleeping bag closer under my chin I luxuriated in the warmth and the knowledge that I could stay like this for as long as I wanted today; it was our rest day. My last instruction to the team the night before had been to sleep as deeply and for as long as possible. I let myself float in and out of consciousness, ignoring the gentle nagging in my bladder. By now our bodies had become so attuned to our normal routine that we were not to be allowed a completely uninterrupted lie-in. I heard Sophia ease herself out of her sleeping bag, slip on some boots and disappear outside. Era soon followed suit. I heard them both return and hung on for as long as possible before giving in myself and blearily tripping out of the tent. The abrasive cold of the breeze searing across my cheeks soon banished any sluggishness as I blinked in the intense sunshine. For a moment the landscape was obliterated in the concentrated light like an overexposed photograph. Despite my reluctance, it felt good to be up. Today I could enjoy the miracle of our surroundings without the pressing need to pack up the tent and rush towards the horizon. Today, I didn't even need to look at my watch. Today, I could take my time.

Back in the tent Steph still lay motionless in her sleeping bag while Sophia sat in her habitual cross-legged position at the far end of the tent. Bent over the kitchen area, she quietly lit stoves and put water on to boil for breakfast. Sophia was so efficient in her role looking after the stoves that I often worried that we took advantage of her but on the few occasions I asked if she wanted to swap roles for the day she looked horrified. ‘No, this is my relaxation. I sit and listen to everyone else talking and am happy doing my jobs. Compared to looking after the kids at home, this is a holiday!' she laughed.

Today, Era sat close to Sophia and whispered conspiratorially as she sorted through the ration bags. Holding up three bags of instant noodles in wordless triumph, she grinned at me in excitement across the tent. It was clear that Era and Sophia were planning to treat themselves to noodles for breakfast rather than the normal porridge. No fan of porridge myself, I joined them. As we munched our Asian-style breakfast in companionable silence I took out our communal notebook and looked at my mileage calculations scribbled in pencil onto the back pages. So far we had done exceedingly well, meeting or beating our daily targets so that we had arrived at the resupply with a whole day to spare. We now had 300 nautical miles to cover to reach the South Pole and were expected to arrive on New Year's Day in 25 days' time. Using the mileage we had covered on a daily basis over the last two weeks as a guide I began to set daily targets for the rest of our journey, taking into account the fact that our sledges would get lighter as we progressed but also that we would be getting slowly more tired as time went on.

Polar travel is a war of attrition. Each day you spend in the polar environment your body will weaken just a little. You can slow the process by looking after yourself but nothing can entirely eliminate the gradual deterioration. While I favoured the slow and steady approach in order to conserve our energy and stamina for as long as possible, I was also mindful that the longer we spent out on the ice, the weaker we would get. I didn't want to rush but neither did I want to drag out our journey for longer than was necessary. I estimated that, even allowing for the team slowing due to tiredness and injury, we could cover the remaining distance in just 22 days. I allowed ourselves a rest day which we would take whenever the weather was too bad to travel or, if we hadn't needed it beforehand, to take on Christmas Day.

I explained my calculations to the whole team as we sat around in the sun-warmed tent later that morning. As the others munched absently on cheesy nachos, propped up against the tent walls with pillows made from sleeping bags, they gave their verdict. Sophia looked serious but shrugged as she spoke as if to indicate her compliance with whatever we decided as a group. ‘I am a conservative person so my instinct is that we should cover as many miles as we can now while we are strong so that we have lots of miles in the bank. We don't know what will happen in the future.'

Era nodded enthusiastically as Sophia spoke. Having wanted to go faster since the very beginning it was no surprise that she favoured the flat-out strategy. Brandishing a pencil she outlined her own calculations. ‘If we do sixteen nautical miles every day and go without a rest day we can be at the pole in just nineteen days.' She grinned at the rest of the team as their mouths fell open. I think even Era knew that her calculations were recklessly ambitious.

Helen was quick to give the opposite view. She still felt that we should set a slower pace. ‘Some people go a lot faster than others. My feet were ruined on that last leg when Felicity went speeding off,' she said.

I felt a flash of offence at her unexpected criticism. I waited until she had finished her comments before I replied, choosing my words carefully and trying hard to keep the annoyance out of my voice. ‘Helen, your feet were ruined long before you arrived in Antarctica. I want to be clear that nothing that has happened on this expedition has been the cause of the condition of your feet.'

I resented the insinuation that I was responsible for the condition
of Helen's feet. ‘I'm aware that pace is becoming a contentious issue,' I continued, addressing the team through the assorted gloves, hats and goggles hung in the centre of the tent. ‘We've each got to remind ourselves that a lot of this is all in our heads. It often feels like someone is leading a fast pace on a particular leg and yet it was actually the slowest of the day. I make sure on a daily basis that no one goes outrageously slow or outrageously fast – that's my job. At the moment the slowest leg is around 2.6 nautical miles and the fastest ever was 3.1 nautical miles – that is not a huge difference. In fact, looking at our progress, we have been incredibly steady and our consistency is something we can be proud of – believe me.' I looked around at the team. Helen nodded in agreement but I wondered if she had really taken on board what I had said. Some looked down at their boots absently picking at threads or studied the faces around them. I decided this was a good time to broach the issue of morale that had worried me the day before. ‘Guys, please don't lose sight of how well we are doing,' I continued. ‘I know that most of you have some kind of niggling injury but considering how far we have skied, we are in rude health. I packed enough ibuprofen and paracetamol for every team member to be on maximum painkillers by this point. We've not even touched the stronger stuff and we haven't needed to unpack the painkillers from the resupply. We are doing a lot better than expected – you should be really proud of that.' The mood lifted a little in the tent and there were a few smiles but it was clear that the crux of the problem lay with Kylie, Helen and Reena. If I didn't address their dip in morale, it was going to spread to the rest of the team.

Now that we had arrived at the resupply the previous 15 days felt like they had been the ultimate training expedition. I was determined that we would use what we had learnt to make sure we were better prepared for the second stage of our expedition than we had been at the start. The biggest job of the day was counting out ration bags for the next 23 days, making sure each tent had the right number of dinner, breakfast and day bags. As Sophia sorted the ration bags for our tent into piles I counted and recounted them, asking Steph and Era to count them again as they packed them into our four sledges. Walking over to Helen, Kylie and Reena's tent, Helen ran through with me what they had prepared, particularly the number of breakfast, dinner and day bags that had been loaded into each sledge.

By mid afternoon all the jobs had been finished and everyone was enjoying a stomach-bloating lunch of leftover rations followed by
an indulgent siesta. Having made myself a comfy nest from my down jacket and sleeping bag, every fibre of my body seemed to be compelling my eyes to close and to join the others in a snooze. I listened to the quiet breathing of my tent-mates and smiled as I realised I could hear snoring from the other tent even though it was pitched 10 metres away. As I listened it dawned on me that I could hear something else; a low mechanical whine. My eyes shot open as I recognised the sound. I flung on my jacket and slipped in my rush to pull open the tent door. Leaning out, I craned my neck to scan the sky. I blinked for a moment to be sure before ducking my head back inside. ‘Guys, wake up. It's a plane!'

There were whoops of excitement as the suddenly awake team fought each other to put on boots and hats in the confined space of the tent. I shook the other tent awake too and soon there were seven red-clad figures jumping up and down on the spot and waving wildly as the brightly coloured Twin Otter flew low over our heads before circling dramatically to our south and landing in a puff of propeller-blown snow and ice. The plane emerged out of the haze and taxied towards us, its metal skis blasting a path through the sastrugi, sending large slabs of snow flying into the air.

The plane stopped, the engines cut and we gathered in a huddle beneath its wing as the doors opened and two pilots jumped from the plane. We recognised them from Patriot Hills: they worked for ALE and had dropped in at the resupply depot on their way back from the South Pole to pick up all our rubbish and unwanted equipment. As we said our hellos there was a certain amount of nudging and laughing among the team as one of the men turned out to be the young pilot Steph had particularly noticed during our time at Patriot Hills. He flashed a smile beneath his mirrored aviators and if we could have seen his eyes I'm sure he would have winked. ‘I'd watch out,' Kylie warned him, ‘you're the first men we've seen in over a fortnight.' The two pilots suddenly looked a little nervous at the seven advancing women.

We loaded the red resupply bags full of unwanted equipment, rubbish and leftover rations onto the plane. Last of all to be loaded was the large plastic sack full of bulging silver packets – our Louis Poo-uittons. The pilot looked confused, ‘What are they?' he asked. He didn't seem impressed as we explained. ‘Toxic material can't be flown like this,' he said. ‘It has to be packed in a certain way so that it can be flown safely.' Slightly panicked at the prospect of having to carry the large sack of waste for another 600 kilometres, I started to reassure him how securely the contents were contained in the Louis Poo-uittons. Kylie backed me up until finally the pilot relented and allowed us to load the bag onto the plane.

‘Hang on!' called Steph running towards us with a silver bag in her outstretched hand. She popped the bag into the sack, grinning cheekily, ‘One last deposit before you go.' It was a good point. Anything excreted after the plane left would have to be carried. I noticed one or two other team members disappear quietly to follow her lead.

We all stood and watched as the plane took off, bouncing over the snow as it retraced its own tracks, picking up speed as it went. Soaring into the air, the plane made an impressive arc to face us and flew low over the tents once more – so low that we all reflexively ducked as the plane's shadow rippled over us. It slowly diminished to a black dot in the blue sky and the team fell strangely quiet. The arrival of the plane had been a reminder that another world did still exist beyond our daily routine of tents and stoves. It felt like being unexpectedly woken in the middle of the night to see something extraordinary. I felt pleased for the experience but somehow wished I'd been left alone. After the excitement it is always a lot harder to fall asleep again and similarly our white world suddenly seemed very lonely.

I carefully dialled the number of Tim Moss, one half of our support team back in the UK. He answered after just two rings. Tim's job while we were away was to update the expedition website each day with the news and podcasts we sent home over the satellite phone. Today we'd arranged to talk so that he could deliver to the team some of the messages that had been left on the website by family, friends and supporters. I relayed each message to the girls who wedged themselves into the one tent.

As I listened to the first message I noticed the expectant hush in the tent. Although in theory the satellite phone allowed us to ring any telephone number in the world any time we wished, we'd agreed as a team that we wouldn't contact our families. It was just too hard to be in the room with loved ones in one moment and then, in the next, be thousands of miles away. Instead we had agreed to have messages on our rest day and although nobody had spoken about it, I knew everyone had been looking forward to this moment more than they dared admit.

We each knew it was going to be an emotional experience and so, it was with a collective deep breath that I relayed the first message. ‘This one's for Steph,' I began. Steph's face broke into an instant smile and I could feel her eyes on me. ‘It's from your Uncle Dinja in America. He says they are following your progress and are very proud of you.' Steph's smile grew broader and she dropped her gaze, looking at the ground in an attempt to control the tears welling in her eyes. Kylie rubbed Steph's shoulder in comfort, all of us feeling the potent echo of Steph's private emotion.