Les petits renards de Rodemack

As we sat the chill of a Spring evening crept over us. Coinciding with the setting sun the bird song notched up in volume and variety, surrounding us with an orchestra. A woodpecker hammered away close by, Julie got a glimpse but I didn't; the small bird was well hidden amongst the foliage of newly green trees. An owl hooted far off, distinct and precise amongst the background of song. We waited, yet the fox puppies did not emerge from their den. 'It's too late' Julie whispered. 'The best time is mid-afternoon'. I had a little more faith and preferred waiting - not least because I had made an hour detour through traffic stricken Metz to fetch my camera.

Then, after twenty minutes, a small movement by the den hole that we had so adamantly been watching. It was a small brown head that popped out of the den hole, a tiny fur ball perfectly camouflaged against the dirt walls. Not long afterwards another head came out from the blackness and another and soon enough a litter of five puppies were out trying to see and smell us with their underdeveloped senses. The smallest found a small leaf to play with but never strayed more than a metre from the den hole, the others stayed in the entrance trying to work out what all the fuss was about. The snapping of my camera shutter was an alien sound to them which kept them curious for about five minutes before finally they retreated back into the warmth and safety of their den.

A magical encounter!

Rodemack, Lorraine, North Eastern France.

VIDEO: Penny Ice Cap Movie (2)

Our Journey's Nick Peres has kindly edited our expedition footage creating a beautiful video. It gives a different pace to my video showing another face to the complex nature of the expedition and both videos compliment each other.

VIDEO: BAFFIN ISLAND 2011

It's taken some time, but finally I have finished the expedition video. As opposed to the other videos I have posted this one covers the expedition in it's entirety and hopefully will give you some idea of the different problems we faced as well as the amazing scenery. Please also see some of the articles I have posted on the expedition which provide more information and emotion to some of the more profound moments.

VIDEO: The Polar Bear Story

When it comes to Arctic wildlife - one thinks of the polar bear. A truly formidable creature: up to 3m tall when standing upright, weighing up to 700kg whilst being able to sprint up to 25mph. You may have already read about what happened when we came across a mother and two cubs as we made our way to the start point of our expedition.Here's the video:

A short film showing the start of our Penny Ice Cap crossing in Spring 2011. To get out to our start point we travel by snow mobile over sea ice for about eight hours. During which we came across some local wildlife...

BAFFIN ISLAND 2011: EXTREME CAMPING

Everything is about survival whilst living at -25C. Setting up and packing up camp is both a skill and an art to get right. We dance around the obstacles of time and weather, tiredness and grogginess to put the show on the road.

SETTING UP CAMP

After a full days skiing, our bodies are getting tired. The sun is beginning to set and the temperature will soon plummet. Setting up camp requires everyone to work efficiently and quickly.

PACKING UP CAMP

At -25C everything is important including packing up camp in the morning before moving onwards.

A -25C Wash

The last day of the expedition had arrived. I couldn’t believe it had come. Two weeks previously, with all the uncertainties and potential dangers ahead, I would have traded places with this day in a blink of an eye – now I would gladly have gone back two weeks.

But still there was a large part of me that was glad that it was almost over. It was hard not to relax and to keep our guard up. ‘It’s not over until it’s over’ is what we had to tell ourselves, and as we woke up that morning we realised that the Arctic wasn’t going to let us go so easily. Blizzard – whiteout conditions. We were only 10km from Pangnirtung, the Inuit community that would be our last stop, and yet in a whiteout even 1km can become impossible. Visibility was down to only a few metres, we were in prime polar bear territory and we were heading to the floe edge – open water.

We had indeed crossed the Penny Ice Cap, making the first British crossing and opening up a new access route onto the ice cap itself. We had had difficult terrain getting onto the ice cap – climbing and traversing 30-40 degree slopes whilst dragging heavy equipment behind us. Such terrain we did not take lightly and opted for caching kit and going back two, three and sometimes even four times to keep the loads (and the danger) down. We had high winds on the ice cap – forcing us to construct shoulder-high walls each night to take shelter behind. At one point we were bent double fighting against a head-on wind that gusted at over 70km/h. Finally we had lived for 17 days and nights in temperatures never warmer than -10C and often below -20C, travelling over 250km, and climbing and descending 2000m well away from any human contact.

After all this, and only 10km from the end, it was thus hard not to be complacent. We ate breakfast and packed our pulks for the last time, and moved off into the white. We used the GPS as a backtracking tool to check our progress. The straight line between the front, middle and rear person is meant to help show whether a straight line is followed, but the whiteout disorientates and confuses. Often our progress was as much as 90 degrees out of our intended direction, and with the wind and snow to contend with our meandering progress was slow. But it was only 10km – no problem, right?

6km from the Inuit community we came to an area that the snow was a bit wet. I was ahead, so I tested the ground first, by stabbing hard with my poles before stamping down with a ski whilst supporting my weight on a safe area. It was a bit wet but felt solid enough. We could not see too far in front, or indeed the valley sides, thus had little idea of our position. It was not clear whether this area was local or extended – we had no reference. I moved tentatively onto the ice which held my weight well, so I continued slowly onwards, testing out the ice all the while.

I had not advanced more than 50 metres before I heard shouting behind me. I whipped around to see Antony, seemingly okay. ‘Wait! Where’s Duncan?’ Twisting myself to look down, I saw a broken section of ice and Duncan in the middle of an opening. My tracks had weakened the thin ice and his extra weight had cracked it, dropping him, skis and all, into the freezing waters beneath. His pulk fortunately was still on the ice, far enough behind him to not fall through and drag him under, and the opening not large enough to take his arms, which were extended further by ski poles, holding his upper body out of water.

My initial reaction was to go back to help. Antony, however, having had previous experience with thin ice through training courses and his recent North Pole expedition, quickly took charge and stopped me from approaching, shouting “STAY STILL!” Which was obvious when thinking rationally, as the weight of another person over the thin and weak ice could have further increased the opening, or even led to that person falling in, worsening the situation considerably. The best solution was if Duncan could drag himself out of the hole and onto the surrounding ice. Time was of the essence as it would only take a couple of minutes before he became too cold to help himself. We watched as he used his arms and poles on the ice, clawing to gain purchase and started to drag himself out. He was heavily burdened by his skis and heavy water laden clothing making the task even more difficult. The opening opened further as he pushed against the edge. Rallying himself further he pushed through to the newly formed edge. This time it held and he was finally on his hands and knees, next to the hole. Even though he was out of the water and the immediate danger had been averted we were still on perilous ground. How weak was this area? How far did it stretch? And meanwhile Duncan was becoming colder and colder. The wind buffeted us, whipping the heat from his soaking wet clothing.

We moved off quickly, no longer following each other’s traces, each of us on a separate line in order to travel over ice that had not been weakened. We stabbed each point with our ski poles to check the solidity of the ice. At one point I felt my left ski punch through. I reacted quickly, switching my weight onto my poles and right foot, so only my left foot dipped into the water, fortunately well below the waterproof line. I took it out and sidestepped onto safer ground. We continued apace for about 10 minutes until we were sure we were on safer, thicker ice, then stopped to evaluate the situation. I looked down and was astonished to see the water that had remained on my boot had frozen up and collected a large amount of snow from the spindrift, in complete contrast to my black dry right boot. Duncan reported that the whole of his lower body was wet. His boots were filled with water, and his lower upper body was also soaked. This was dangerous – the cold water alone was problematic enough, but having wet clothing was even more so, as when wet, it becomes very inefficient at insulating. He was getting cold.

After such an event, the human body immediately releases adrenaline, allowing the body to cope with exceptional circumstances. Duncan’s body at this stage would have been pumping adrenalin, providing him with more energy and faster reactions. This adrenalin rush does not last long however, and is often followed by fatigue. Mentally though everyone acts differently. Keeping his morale up was essential to ensure he used what reserves his body had to cope with the situation. That was our job.

We joked with him about the incident, jokingly becoming upset that he had managed to have a wash whilst we both were still smelly in three-week-old clothing. We pushed onwards, increasing our speed in order to force Duncan’s body to keep generating the heat that would keep him warm. This strategy is normally only possible for a couple of hours, while the adrenalin was still in his body, giving him the energy to keep going. After this we would need to stop and probably make camp in order for him to get out of his cold, wet clothing and warm up in the tent. Fortunately for us we were only a few hours from the community, allowing us to make ‘somewhere warm and inside’ our direct aim and indeed an objective to keep Duncan focussed on. He was in good spirits, complaining little and moving well with the new pace we set through the blizzard. Antony was in front and I stayed behind as we pushed on, again involuntarily meandering through the whiteout.

Another hour passed. We continued on, knowing from the GPS that we were not far away but with no visual reference. “Getting cold now” said Duncan cheerfully as I again complained that he’d managed to wash and that I was so desperately dirty. From his relative lack of complaints, I took note that Duncan was probably getting very cold and pushed him further to catch up with Antony, who was now further in front. We were getting tired, having had no rest in the last few hours. But we knew we must be close, and we were traveling fast, in the right(ish) direction. Finally, a slight parting of the clouds, and we saw the unmistakable dark silhouettes of buildings directly to our left. Pangnirtung.

It still took about 30 minutes of frenzied skiing to find the frozen harbour and haul ourselves into the main town. The end in sight gave us new energy but Duncan fell a few times now, tripping up on the steep ground – the cold undeniably affecting his concentration. We parked our sledges by the national park office and made a beeline for the local cafe. Water flooded out of Duncan’s boots as he yanked them off, his socks dripping. The coffee and chips arrived soon after, steaming hot. A bite and a slurp later, a huge grin appeared on Duncan’s face. “We’ve done it!”

The Polar Bear Story

“You touched a baby polar bear?!??” is the first question that I’m asked now. This is followed straight away by “didn’t the mother take offense to that?” And by ‘take offense’ they mean that “didn’t mother polar bear swipe her massive paws with blades for claws at you and gouge out your insides?” and so I describe a situation that is both sad and cute, irresponsible and corrective but above all else amazing.

This was my third time in Baffin Island and I had not as yet seen a polar bear. I really wanted to see one. Safely, and from a distance, as all visitors to the Arctic wish. The Inuit too still get excited every time they see a nanok (polar bear in Inuktitut). So there we were at the start of our polar expedition attempting the first British traverse of the Penny Ice Cap, a distance of over 250km, rising from sea level to 2000m and back down again through temperatures below -25C and with winds of upto 70km/h. But first of all we had to get to our starting position.

Our starting point was actually some way away from the nearest Inuit community that we could get conventional transport to. That was because the communities are traditionally by the sea (or what is the sea once all the ice melts in the summer) and sea and Arctic coastal regions are stalking grounds for the polar bear. After not eating much for several winter months polar bears are quite hungry – not an ideal situation for us, as unprotected humans, to be in. Thus we started as far inland as we could, arriving there safely by having our Inuit outfitters drop us there by skidoo (snow mobile), a journey of about 8 hours. We had two skidoos, to manage not only taking the three of us and all our equipment, but also to give the Inuit drivers, Billy and Charlie, some equipment redundancy if one of the skidoos failed– crucial given that they could be potentially 8 hours away from their homes and shelter.

We started in the morning of a beautiful sunny still day, the temperature a balmy -15C and we were looking forward to an easy ride out to our start point.

We traveled past massive icebergs, halted in their voyage south by the freezing seas. They towered storeys above us, dwarfing us in their majesty. We stopped in awe and the silence that followed was deafening. We passed seal holes, where, some way in the distance, a seal was sun bathing. Arctic hares raced past us, somehow managing to maintain the same speed whilst shooting up a 50 degree mountain snow slope. We saw the extraordinarily shapes created by pressure ice as the sea froze, forcing us to weave in and out, up and down, to find the easiest way through. Then we came across the tracks of a mother polar bear and two cubs. The tracks were fresh. I remember putting my hand inside the paw print of the mother polar bear and gulping a little uncomfortably as my hand was swallowed up. We followed the tracks and came across a seal den, where seal babies are nursed. We could see where the polar bears had waited patiently, hoping to catch a seal, and their tracks further away into the distance when they had given up.

We continued on our way to our starting position but after a further hour, Charlie shouted “NANOK!” over the roar of the engine, whilst pointing to something in the distance. My eyes followed his finger to see, in the distance, only one white speck amongst many others, against a white snow background…I could not see the polar bear. I was driving at the time and he told me to stop. We quickly changed seats and he accelerated off. As we drew closer I suddenly made out the unmistakable form of the polar bear. Her fur had a yellow tint to it, making her stand out against the white background. She had two cubs with her, undoubtedly from this year’s litter, and still very young. They trundled along beside her, playfully tumbling in and out of her tracks. We moved closer still to get a better view and pictures. Too close!

Mother bear became startled by these two large, noisy machines hurtling towards her and in her fright took off away from us with her cubs following close behind. Her gait was quite comical to view from behind but her speed was incredible. We followed but in our excitement to see these wonderful creatures nevertheless scared her. She increased her speed further, but one of her cubs could not keep up. He slowly fell further and further behind and then he panicked. He stopped, turned and started running in a different direction, at almost 90 degrees to his mother’s tracks. The mother did not look back and was getting further away. We sped up, and tried to use the snowmobiles as a guide to force him back in the right direction. Our large unmaneuverable machines were insufficient to scare the small and agile bear in the right direction, but fortunately, eventually he crossed his mother’s tracks and started to follow them. We stopped and watched.

The baby bear was about the size of a midsize dog. In contrast to his mother his coat was a pure fluffy white, unblemished by life. He was probably only a few months old, born during the winter that had just passed. Female polar bears generally give birth to two or three bears per litter and twins are common. A pregnant bear creates a den inside the snow for the winter in order to rest and nurse her young. It is likely that they had only just emerged from their den and it was the young bears’ first few days in the outside world.

Barking continuously, the baby bear followed his mother’s tracks. But slowly and inconsistently. At one point he stopped and headed back towards us. His mother meanwhile had not slowed down and was well out of sight. After half an hour we were not sure whether he would find his way back to his mother, and he was too young to survive by himself. Billy, our Inuit outfitter explained “He is too young. He does not know what he is doing.” Billy decided then that the best course of action was to catch him and take him back to his mother on the snowmobiles. Seeing what distress we had caused and having already attempted to let the situation resolve itself, it was the only course of action left and one that we all accepted. The chase began.

We used the two snowmobiles to create a pincer movement. We came in from behind, overtaking the baby bear from the left and right before suddenly closing in, closing the pincer. Seeing his path cut off by the snowmobiles he stopped, barking ferociously, much like baby Simba’s roar in Disney’s Lion King, with his hot breath steaming out of his mouth. With him unsure what to do, we had time to try and grab him. Charlie jumped off the skidoo and grabbed his body. “Great!” we all exclaimed, and hoped for a quick end to this situation. But Charlie didn’t know what to do next, and nor did we. If he tried to pick him up he would be subjected to those great claws and those big teeth – scarily large even though he was so small. Thus we lost the element of surprise, and when the bear realised what was happening he started struggling. Just one movement of his head made Charlie back off, in fear of being bitten. Realising he was free the bear jumped over the overlapped snowmobile tracks that had closed him in and ran off. Charlie gave a futile and comical attempt to chase him on foot – no chance.

I jumped onto the driver’s seat to catch up with Charlie, whilst Billy took control of the other snowmobile and we caught up with the bear to try again. And again. And again. Each time the bear escaped, becoming more confident and bold in his attempts to escape capture – he was certainly outwitting us. We were going to have to immobilise and blindfold him so that he could not see where to attack. Billie was travelling with a spare tent that served as an emergency shelter if their snowmobiles broke down away far from their community, and we decided to use this sheet to capture the bear. Once again, Billie and I in control of the snowmobiles executed, what now became a perfect pincer movement. Charlie jumped out of the back of the snowmobile with the tent sheet and threw it over the bear. This allowed us to scoop him up without him fighting so much and place him in the sled at the back of the snowmobile. Charlie climbed in afterwards holding him down under the tent sheet. His barks became muffled. I jumped back again onto the driving seat and we pushed the two snowmobiles to their limits to try and find the mother. The terrain was fairly flat, but with small undulations created by the sea ice, making the ride at full speed quite bumpy. I looked back at my precious load continuously afraid that the bumpy ride will hurt our bear or enable him to escape. Even though the mother bear was well out of sight following her was quite easy once we had located her tracks. She had travelled a fair distance, covering over 10km in the hour or so since we had last seen her.

As we approached, the mother heard the machines, and started sprinting away at full speed. We swapped snowmobiles so that Billie could bring the snowmobile with the baby bear closer. I watched as they approached to within a few hundred metres of the mother, and quickly tried to release the baby bear. He got caught up in the guide ropes and there was a tense moment as we watched the mother disappearing away and the baby bear unable to disentangle himself whilst being within easy biting distance of Charlie and Billie. After a frantic pulling of the guide ropes he became free and quickly ran away – in the wrong direction. Billy chased him trying to force him in the right direction. But two human legs once again failed against four bear legs and he could not keep up. We could only watch. After running away in a panic he saw his mother who was now half way up a valley edge about 2km away and followed. He moved towards her, his barks becoming fainter with the distance he got away from us. Though we were a few kilometers from the mother we decided to move further back to allow her to relax. Turning back to watch from a safe distance we saw the mother stop and hearing her cub’s cries waited at her vantage point up the valley wall. The baby bear, with his cute shuffle, caught up with his sibling and together they climbed the hill after their mother. We turned away as we saw the three of them crossing the slope together, the mother walking in front, and the two cubs not far behind.

It was a happy reunion and one which we sheepishly celebrated. It was a situation that we had created and one that would not have occurred had our desire to see these fantastic creatures been satisfied by seeing them from a distance. We, as individuals and as a species, have a responsibility to wildlife and must recognise the effects of our actions. Even though I was thoroughly thrilled to have been so close to a wild polar bear I was sorry that this situation had emerged, and I hope that there were no long-lasting negative repercussions of the baby bear’s proximity to us humans.

Penny Ice Cap Press Release

PENNY ICE CAP EXPEDITION – PRESS RELEASE On Wednesday 11th May, Vijay Shah with team mates Antony Jinman and Duncan Eadie returned to the UK following a polar expedition on Baffin Island. They have become the first British team to ski unassisted across the remote Penny Ice Cap and have explored a new access route.

The project covered over 250km on skis, starting and ending at sea level but rising to 1940 metres at its highest point. Throughout the 18 day expedition, the team endured air temperatures of below - 25°C, blizzards and 70kmph winds. At times, this challenging arctic environment also meant the team had to ski and drag their 50kg pulks over extremely thin ice, the dangers of which are highlighted when Duncan fell straight through into the ocean on the way to Pangnirtung (Inuit Community), their final destination. Vijay said “Once Duncan had dragged himself out of the ocean, the team needs to keep moving and move quickly to stop him from freezing.” Skiing over new terrain also offered it’s challenges, “We never knew what was around the corner, or even if there was a corner!” Self-doubt also played its part and asked its own questions: “Did we have enough food? What if the weather closes in on difficult terrain?” This self-questioning is justified as at times the team were probably over 100km from any other person.

However, this extreme environment also offers spectacular rewards; the mountain passes made for extraordinary scenery as the team traversed this landscape documenting the changes taking place due to climate change, in photography and film. The team were also lucky enough to see some of the Arctic’s most documented wildlife in their natural habitat, including Polar Bears and cubs, Arctic Hare, Ptarmigans and Seals.

Schools have been tracking their progress via the Education Through Expeditions website (www.etelive.org), where teachers and students have been posting questions on the online discussion boards to learn about the Arctic, the Inuit people and the effects of climate change. “Using our satellite phones we could even answer specific questions about the expedition from the school children directly.” Vijay said. “Overall we worked incredibly well in our team – absolutely essential for survival – in order to successfully complete the expedition.”

Links: http://www.etelive.org/baffin

Plymouth Herald

A newspaper article in the Plymouth Herald last week:

Penny Ice Cap Crossing 2011, Baffin Island

After 18 days on the ice, skiing over 250km with air temperatures down to -25C, winds upto 70km/h, we completed the traverse of the Penny Ice Cap opening up a new access point in the process. We overcame polar bears, blizzards and thin sea ice. We saw the beauty and majesty of nature in her most brutal form. Ice, thousands of years old of infinite shades of blue. See some photos below, stories to follow. This expedition is dedicated to Janye Lee. With whom I will not get the chance to share these stories and photos with. I wish you could've seen these...

Penny Ice Cap (Take Two)

Is it goldfish syndrome, stubbornness or a desire to succeed that makes us try and try again when we have failed? My grandmother kindly reminded me of my frozen toes the last time we tried this route. Friends commend me on having the courage to try again and my mother says I'm just stubborn and that 'I should just get married'. But for whatever the reason I am at the eve of our departure for Baffin Island. A documentary on Shackleton and polar travel ominously plays in the background on BBC 2 behind me as I write this note. A glance at the documentary behind me shows the team discussing a broken crampon... let's hope that that will not be a feature of our expedition.

But back to our reality and our expedition. We have different strategies to last time. We have new clothing, another guy to keep us amused and most importantly we're going a month later in the season - much warmer!

Of more interest to you guys at home, you can follow our progress on a spectacular 3D map with a special fly in feature that allows you to sit back and follow our route. We'll be updating our blog everyday and schools can get involved by asking questions which will directly arrive to us to answer through the wonders of satellite communication. Our website and blog site for you to bookmark is: http://www.etelive.org/baffin (Follow 'latest updates' to see the maps).

-------------------------- Je vais ecrire un petit note en francais pour le monde francophone. On partira demain pour nos expedition a Isle de Baffin.

Vous pouvez nous suivre sur nos site de web: http://www.etelive.org/baffin. Regardez vous la carte en 3D!! Trop cool!

Alors, j'espere que je ne vais pas avoir trop froid cette fois et j'espere que vous nous souhaitez le mieux de chance! Dans un mois mes amis...

Baffin Island in 4 days time

As I sit and write this I have a million things to do. There is kit everywhere in three different countries and two different continents. Yes, somehow I got roped into (pun intended!) heading to Baffin Island again to re-attempt our 2008 crossing of the Penny Ice Cap. Three weeks ago I was looking forward to a quiet month in April to watch spring blossom. But three weeks minus one day ago I was suddenly faced with the prospect that I was due to part on a polar exped in three weeks minus one day time! I have to admit there wasn't much coercing required but that didn't make the mountain of organisation any easier.

Whilst I arrange my gear, check, double check and triple check I leave you to check out our flashy blog with exped maps in 3D, polar expert panel on Education through Explorations website:

http://www.etelive.org/content/contentete.numo?id=105

La Tournette

A terrible season this year in the Alps but I managed to get at least one decent ski touring route in. La Tournette, a beautiful 2,400m mountain overlooking the city of Annecy in the French Alps. The climb starts at 900m and the finish is a little scramble up a rocky face before topping out onto the peak.