Bear Grylls

by Bear Grylls

  True to form, Mick changed from his expedition gear into his business suit and leaped straight back into the zone of building the Tiscali empire. But the Atlantic had taken its toll. Three weeks later, he phoned to say he was still feeling drained and exhausted. I was relieved to hear that someone else was also wiped out.

  Charlie went back to Manchester and resumed his life as a television cameraman. Part of this work meant we were still together, and he was the cameraman on an adventure series in the Brecon Beacons we were doing for Channel 4. Lying in a soaking ditch with me one night, up a mountain in Wales in sub-zero winter conditions, Charlie muttered that life had definitely got colder since we met. I apologized, laughing.

  As for the sixth member of our team, our faithful boat, we finished the corporate days on her and said our farewells. We are currently in the process of trying to find a sponsor for her that will enable us to donate the boat to the sea-based charity the Meridian Trust. This trust offers disadvantaged kids the chance to experience the magic of the sea. I hope we manage to pull this off and allow these young people to benefit from this extraordinary craft. She was our life in those storms and never failed once. I hope others will grow to love her as we did.

  For me, the experience of leadership had been much more demanding than I had ever imagined.

  The bad part of me had hoped it would mean I would get more sleep, not less. I always assumed there would have to be some privileges for the leader of the expedition.

  In practice, though, to lead properly, you end up being the last one to go to bed at night, and the first one to wake in the morning. There were times when Andy had to wake at 5 a.m. to change the oil filters, so I would aim to get up with him to have a cup of tea together first. Then, in the afternoon, while Andy might be grabbing an hour of sleep, I would be with Mick checking the weather forecasts on the Internet.

  As somebody who in previous expeditions had always taken great pleasure in oversleeping, the responsibility of leadership was something that required me to give my all. That is a good thing: the result was worth it. Every time.

  But what would be next? This time the question wasn’t coming from some journalist; it was coming from within me.

  Sometimes I sense that people live their own dreams through explorers. It is a form of escape from life, something safe upon which to quench their thirst for danger. But I am not sure I want to be the sacrifice for these people’s urges any longer.

  When asked ‘What next?’, the easy answer is to say K2, or the South Pole. It all rolls off the tongue so easily. But in many ways it is a coward’s answer.

  Explorers, climbers and sailors are meant to be brave. But so often we aren’t brave enough to be honest.

  Honest enough to say, ‘I am feeling a bit frightened of those things at the moment.’

  Honest enough to say, ‘You’ve caught me at a very vulnerable time, and I am not sure I have an answer right now.’

  I hope I am brave enough to say all this.

  But I know for certain that life is so much more than always having to top something or better the last achievement.

  That’s not the way I want to lead my life.

  We all so often live in the shadow of people’s expectations. But as soon as we do that, we lose our power. The magic dies. I don’t want that. I hope to keep living as I have always lived – by heart.

  I hope always to be among the elements, to be in beautiful, isolated places, far from the big cities, places where life is simple and pure, places where I can feel God’s quiet presence around me.

  I want to keep connecting with people, whether in a small boat or on a mountain, in an audience or on the TV; even in a book. It is all about giving humanity. It’s about being brutally straight with yourself, even to your own detriment. That is sometimes so hard to do.

  I want people to know I am normal, with just as many doubts and weaknesses and struggles as anyone else, but if we can just hang on, we can come through – and maybe even find ourselves a little stronger.

  For us, though, the truth is we got lucky on Everest, and we got lucky on the frozen North Atlantic; and you don’t have to be a mathematician to realize that you can’t keep playing those sorts of odds and always win.

  I only have to think of my late friend, Ginette Harrison, whom I first met while climbing in Nepal. We were together on the so-called unclimbable mountain, Ama Dablam, in the Himalayas. It was the year before our attempt on Everest. Ginette was a kind, strong, beautiful woman, and probably the best female climber of her age. She was intelligent and cautious and, in my eyes, as a climber, she was nothing less than invincible.

  However, two years later, back in the Himalayas she was attempting to climb another great peak. Just one more. She was struck by an avalanche and killed. Just like that. Only a month earlier we had been having lunch together in London.

  The avalanche wasn’t her fault. She had done nothing wrong. Humans are strong, but nature is stronger. And if you play the odds long enough, it is true: you cannot always win.

  But I am no longer prepared to die on some distant mountain or senseless sea. And if I have learned anything from these wild forces of nature, it is a quiet determination to stay alive.

  Several months later, the Royal Geographical Society hosted the crew of the Arnold and Son Transatlantic Arctic Expedition to give a presentation on our experiences. The five of us gathered at the awe-inspiring, historic venue, on the south side of London’s Hyde Park, and we told our story.

  At the end of the evening, I stood up to conclude. I noticed the side door open, and some light fill the room. It was Shara re-emerging into the hall, carrying Jesse in her arms. He was meant to be in bed – it was 8.30 p.m., but she had arranged for him to be here.

  On impulse, I stepped down from the stage and took him in my arms. We all then stood onstage together: the team and myself, with Jesse wrapped up in a little blanket. As he peeked out from under his little hat at the sea of faces, I had never felt so proud.

  Not long afterwards, Jesse was christened on our barge, just as I had always hoped he would be.

  Nicky, the priest, stood on the upper deck, and his robes billowed in the autumn breeze that whistles down the Thames.

  He reached for the little bottle of snow water that I had brought back from the summit of Everest some five years ago and had kept for this very occasion. He dabbed it on Jesse’s tiny forehead. And right there, he christened our lovely son.

  Right from the start, this had been the plan.

  And the plan had worked. By Grace.

  I hope Jesse’s grandfather, my late dad, felt proud.

  If I go up to the Heavens, you are there;

  if I go down to the place of the dead, you are there also.

  If I ride the morning wind to the ends of the ocean,

  even there your hand will guide,

  your strength will support me . . .

  I can never be lost to your Spirit.

  Psalm 139:5–10

  Don’t be afraid to go on the odd wild goose chase, that’s what wild geese are for!

  Anon.

  GLOSSARY

  EPIRB frequencies – Emergency Position Indicating Radio Beacon. A globally detectable, emergency broadcast signal sent via satellite and transmitted on the 406MHz frequency

  GPS – Global Positioning System. Signals from 24 satellites provide precise geodetic positioning and navigation

  prop – propeller

  payloads – weight

  helming – steering

  lifelines – ropes running the length of a boat on to which a sailor clips his safety harness

  stern – back of a boat

  bow – front end of a boat

  prow – front of a boat

  foredeck – front deck of a boat

  hull – the body or bottom of a boat

  jet housing – the casing for the internal propeller

  lee – sheltered side

  fenders – buffers slung over the sides of the
boat to protect it from damage

  parachute sea anchor – an anchor for use in deep water. The ‘parachute’, which is made of fabric, fills with water and holds the boat in place

  Gortex – air-permeable waterproof material

  chandlery – a store selling boating supplies

  jet drive – a form of propulsion for a boat

  beam seas – where the waves arrive side-on to the boat

  head sea – where the waves arrive head-on to the boat

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Sponsors of www.arctic2003.com

  Title Sponsor

  Arnold and Son Watches, British Masters,

  Switzerland and London

  Lead Sponsors

  Royal Navy Daily Telegraph Shell

  BT Exact and NVP Brightstar Lafarge Aggregates CSC

  Lunson Mitchenall London Speaker Bureau

  MIT Group – Twin Disc Davis Langdon UK Vitol

  Simrad Finnings CAT Sage Mattel – Hot Wheels

  General Motors (Canada)

  With special thanks to

  HRH The Prince of Wales British Airways plc

  The Royal Geographical Society, London

  The Canadian Navy The Danish Navy

  London and Southampton Boat Shows Schroders

  E Squadron, 21st Special Air Service Musto Clothing

  White Stuff Clothing Navigators and General Insurance

  Gecko Headgear Professor Robert Swan

  Ocean Dynamics RIBs Mustang Marine

  Gunwharf Quay, Portsmouth Food Ferry – supplies

  Deliverance – supplies Bembridge Sailing Club

  Echomax – radar reflectors C-Map – charts MarineTrack

  Sartech – survival equipment Barnstead Int. Electro-thermal

  Soltron – fuel additive Dampire – kit-drying systems

  Nova Scotia Sailing School Rightons Aluminium

  Seastart – recovery Pan Macmillan

  Peter Fraser and Dunlop Literary Agents

  George and Carol McFadden Bruce Cameron

  Morris and Jill Marshment Cranham Builders

  The Crosthwaite family The Laing family

  The Thompson family The Liever family

  The Proctor family The Vyner-Brooks family

  Ed Griffiths and family The McGregor family Hy Money

  Ludgrove School Canons Gym Dronsfield Technologies

  www.octavianart.com Stargate3 Satellite Communications

  Iridium satellite technology Carabina Logistics

  FPT Industries – fuel systems Sigma Displays

  Wallenius Wilhelmsen Lines UK – boat transport

  Premier Promotions Mumm Champagne

  Cunningham Management Liaison Media – PR

  Whitbread Foundation Cosalt – life rafts

  Ocean Safety supplies Col Henry Hughe-Smith

  NSA Int. Juice Plus + Alpine Club

  Royal Navy Sailing Centre

  SAS Regimental Association

  The Charity

  The Prince’s Trust strives to help fourteen- to thirty-year-olds develop confidence, learn new skills, get into work and start businesses. Their message, ‘Yes You Can’, encourages young people to believe in themselves whatever obstacles they face.

  Bear Grylls has been an ambassador for the Prince’s Trust since 2003 and is also now Chief Scout and figurehead to 28 million Scouts worldwide, a post that encourages young people to learn adventure skills and enjoy the outdoors with good friends.

  For further information on the Prince’s Trust, see:

  www.princes-trust.org.uk.

  For further information on Bear Grylls, see:

  www.beargrylls.com.

  LIST OF PLATES

  1. My late dad Mickey Grylls and me aged eight

  2. My reason for coming home: Shara, my wife, with Jesse on the deck of our barge the day of his christening

  3. The expedition’s patron, HRH Prince of Wales with (from left to right) Eric Loth (from The British Masters Arnold & Son, our lead sponsors), Nigel Thompson, Mick Crosthwaite, Lt Andy Leivers, me and Jean-Marie Florent (also from our lead sponsors)

  4. Into the Unknown by George Lewis. The oil painting was in aid of The Prince’s Trust. (Courtesy of Octavian Art)

  5. The Arnold & Son Explorer, looking a fraction of her beautiful self, being lowered into Canadian waters for the first time

  6. HMS Newcastle in heavy seas. Andy getting a perspective on what lies ahead for us in an open boat

  7. Leaving Halifax, Nova Scotia. The journey begins

  8. Arriving at night in Glace Bay, Nova Scotia

  9. Looking aft as we enter the sea-fog off Newfoundland, south of the Belle Isle Strait

  10. The remote coastline of Newfoundland, and one of the many lighthouses

  11. Bear in St Mary’s harbour, Labrador

  12. The crew stare worriedly at the dark weather clouds ahead, with no idea of what we were going into

  13. Sea-fog and swell off the Labrador coast

  14. Charlie ‘Lone Ranger’ Laing, our brilliant cameraman

  15. Trying to rest in our ‘sardine tin’

  16. The product of having soaking wet, freezing hands for days on end: the bath effect!

  17. Our first iceberg. To give some perspective, this one is over eight miles away

  18. Arnold & Son Explorer in the Greenland fjords

  19. Leaving Nanortalik, following the ice towards the mouth of the Prince Christiansen Sound

  20. Nige taking time out to write his diary midway through the Prince Christiansen Sound

  21. Repacking and stowing kit in the Prince Christiansen Sound

  22. Trying to catch up with some precious sleep as we leave the coast of Greenland. We are sleeping in the bows to try and bring the weight forward to increase our speed

  23. The sun sets over the ice plateaux of Greenland behind us

  24. Entering the big head seas. We knuckle down as the conditions dramatically deteriorate. The barometer plummets some 400 miles from Iceland. In the worst conditions, taking photos became impossible

  25. Dawn finally arrives after a night of terrifying storms off Iceland

  26. Andy stares out longingly towards Iceland, only fifteen miles away but still hidden, at the end of our frightening ordeal

  27. One of the rare clear sunsets captured as we leave the Vestmann Islands

  28. Against the backdrop of the remote, northern coast of Scotland, the Arnold & Son Explorer completes its journey. (Kinloch)

  29. We finally hit land! The homecoming on the beach of a small cove at Kinloch, north Scotland

  30. Nige’s face says it all. Scotland at last! (Kinloch)

  31. Lt Andy Leivers and Bear Grylls, holding the Royal Navy’s White Ensign aloft as they arrive in John O’Groats. (David Cheskin / PA Photos)

  32. The moment we had all been longing for: celebrating the ‘Mumm’ way in Scotland! (David Cheskin / PA Photos)

  33. Holding my little son Jesse the day I returned. His look says: ‘Dad, take a bath’

  1. My late dad Mickey Grylls and me aged eight

  2. My reason for coming home: Shara, my wife, with Jesse on the deck of our barge the day of his christening

  3. The expedition’s patron, HRH Prince of Wales with (from left to right) Eric Loth (from The British Masters Arnold & Son, our lead sponsors), Nigel Thompson, Mick Crosthwaite, Lt Andy Leivers, me and Jean-Marie Florent (also from our lead sponsors)

  4. Into the Unknown by George Lewis. The oil painting was in aid of The Prince’s Trust. (Courtesy of Octavian Art)

  5. The Arnold & Son Explorer, looking a fraction of her beautiful self, being lowered into Canadian waters for the first time

  6. HMS Newcastle in heavy seas. Andy getting a perspective on what lies ahead for us in an open boat

  7. Leaving Halifax, Nova Scotia. The journey begins

  8. Arriving at night in Glace Bay, Nova Scotia

  9. Looking aft as we enter the
sea-fog off Newfoundland, south of the Belle Isle Strait

  10. The remote coastline of Newfoundland, and one of the many lighthouses

  11. Bear in St Mary’s harbour, Labrador

  12. The crew stare worriedly at the dark weather clouds ahead, with no idea of what we were going into

  13. Sea-fog and swell off the Labrador coast

  14. Charlie ‘Lone Ranger’ Laing, our brilliant cameraman

  15. Trying to rest in our ‘sardine tin’

  16. The product of having soaking wet, freezing hands for days on end: the bath effect!

  17. Our first iceberg. To give some perspective, this one is over eight miles away

  18. Arnold & Son Explorer in the Greenland fjords

  19. Leaving Nanortalik, following the ice towards the mouth of the Prince Christiansen Sound

  20. Nige taking time out to write his diary midway through the Prince Christiansen Sound

  21. Repacking and stowing kit in the Prince Christiansen Sound

  22. Trying to catch up with some precious sleep as we leave the coast of Greenland. We are sleeping in the bows to try and bring the weight forward to increase our speed

  23. The sun sets over the ice plateaux of Greenland behind us

  24. Entering the big head seas. We knuckle down as the conditions dramatically deteriorate. The barometer plummets some 400 miles from Iceland. In the worst conditions, taking photos became impossible