Our 48 hours at the pole will live with me till I die. I am going to dull my grandchildren into submission with tales of the 2 days that I spent on the frozen drifting temporary ice mass that is the north pole. From the 2.5 hour flight in a soviet plane designed specifically to land on the arctic ice to the first steps on the frozen ocean at the pole, from the marathon itself to the perpetual battle to fight off the coruscating cold, from the helicopter ride to the actual geographic north pole in an old Russian M-8 to the burly bearded vodka-fuelled Russians who ran Camp Barneo as it is known, it was a surreal, unforgettable experience, laden with incredible images.

I write this on the plane home. I am exhausted, content yet still trying to get to grips with exactly what I saw and experienced. I am not sure how much has really sunk in. After 48 hours at the pole, I was very glad to be leaving that harsh landscape – the cold and the lack of sleep were simply too much and made it increasingly harder to appreciate where we were at. One thing is for sure, hot showers and heated bathroom floors that we had in Spitsbergen felt like manner from heaven. It is a relief not to have to worry about the cold, to have continuous feeling in my feet.

Yet, without wanting to get all preachy, if we as a human race let this wondrous breathtaking natural phenomenon disappear in the next 50 years, it will be a travesty, an unforgiveable act of negligence for which we all have to take responsibility.
Some Photos:
Just landed at the Pole
The True Geographic Pole
The View at the Geographic Pole