Finally Sophia said, ‘I don’t think it is really worth the risk to continue. We should go back.’ Everyone agreed. I was pleased with the decision; in truth, we didn’t really have much of a choice but the hesitation of the women to suggest our next action spoke volumes. The girls were certainly not stupid and I greatly respected their opinion but neither, when it came to it, did they have the experience to make certain decisions. There would be times when I would have to make decisions based on my own experience, and in those cases the women would have to trust my judgement. I wasn’t sure if Charmaine would be able to do that, and the realisation worried me. If Charmaine disagreed with me on the ice, it could split the group and that could be dangerous. I had seen it happen in other teams and knew how disruptive it could be. More expeditions fail thanks to bad team dynamics than for any other reason.
As the light dimmed we found a spot to camp away from the ski trails and pitched the tents. The snow was wet and soggy, making it damp and miserable inside. I had put a lot of thought into how to divide the team between our two four-man tents. Kim was working really hard on her skiing and general organisation but she was still the least confident team member and required the greatest input. To help, I placed her in a tent with the three most experienced members of the team; Helen, Charmaine and Reena. I shared a tent with Steph, Era and Sophia who were all novices but who seemed to be coping well.
Charmaine and Kim had formed what at first appeared to be a very unlikely friendship. Charmaine was impressively organised, with a brisk no-nonsense attitude and strong self-discipline, whereas Kim was hopelessly disorganised, chronically whimsical and easily distracted. Nevertheless, they formed a connection with each other and Charmaine was able to persuade Kim to listen to her advice in a way I had failed to do and as a result Kim was making great progress. It was good to see them getting on so well but as I sat in their tent that evening I noticed a clear division within the tent group. Charmaine took control of the small ‘kitchen’ at one end of the tent and Kim sat next to her, both of them with their backs to Helen and Reena who sat together dejectedly at the opposite end of the tent. Kim and Charmaine chatted quietly to each other laughing at private jokes, while Reena sat in silence. As I talked with Helen and Reena about the day ahead, I tried repeatedly to pull Charmaine and Kim into our conversation but when I left the tent the divide re-established itself immediately. The pattern repeated itself the following day as we skied. Kim increasingly depended on Charmaine to help her, to the point that Kim was refusing help from anyone else. As Steph stooped to help Kim re-strap bags onto her sledge I overheard Kim stop her, ‘No, no, no. Charmaine does that for me.’ Alarm bells started to ring in my head.
The day, generally, was pretty miserable. Confined to the valley our only option was to ski back and forth along a 2-kilometre stretch of lonely ski trail that snaked alongside a partially frozen river. The surroundings were extremely pretty but after the first half dozen repetitions it got a little boring. The sky that had been leaden since morning started producing sheets of soggy sleet that soaked through our clothing and equipment. Polar environments are usually very dry, so polar equipment is aimed at keeping out the cold rather than the wet. As a result, a downpour can be the most miserable experience possible. We pressed on through the sleet and I cheered myself with the thought that in many respects this was the best training we could have. It was monotonous, as Antarctica would be, and there was little opportunity to talk to each other. The team quickly felt cold, miserable and dejected – just as they were likely to do in Antarctica. The training became a preparation of mind as well as body in a way that I couldn’t have designed in advance.
I secretly hoped that we would be able to make the journey to the South Pole unsupported, meaning that we would set off with everything in our sledges that we would need for the entire journey. To do this, I estimated that the team would each need to be able to pull around 80 kilograms in their sledge. If we couldn’t manage this, I would have to arrange for a resupply to be placed by aircraft on the ice at a designated point about halfway through our journey. In order to gain a clear idea of how much weight each member of the team could realistically expect to haul in their sledge, we gradually increased our loads throughout the day. We used bags of snow as well as equipment to increase the weight in each sledge to 80 kilograms. We even used Rob (who had accompanied us to New Zealand to take pictures) as ballast, dragging him around the trails in a sledge like royalty. We had two slightly smaller sledges which were strung together, one behind the other, so that the weight was a total of 80 kilograms. Kim opted to tow the contraption but the ‘articulated sledge’ became a particular burden. As the team glided around a descending corner of the trail I glanced behind to see Kim, near the back of the line, lose a sledge over the edge of the bank. The weight of the sledge falling towards the river below dragged her backwards until she was left gripping hold of the side of the trail with both sledges dangling from the harness around her waist. She cried out in alarm, halfway between a scream and a shout. Steph was first to reach Kim but was unable to stop her own sledge disappearing over the same bank. Both were finally man-handled back onto the trail and lay on the snow for a moment, out of breath but laughing at their ridiculous predicament.
At the end of a full ten-hour day I asked everyone to write on a slip of paper whether they felt they could manage to haul a similarly laden sledge all the way to the South Pole, bearing in mind that we had only tried it for a day – we would need to repeat the same effort every day for around forty days. The slips were anonymous to encourage honesty but in reality I couldn’t help but recognise the handwriting as I read them later that evening. Era, the smallest member of our team, had written just one word: ‘Easy.’ Others weren’t so sure, quite rightly doubtful that they could possibly imagine what it would be like to pull such a load for so many days – even if it did get lighter each day as we used the food and fuel. The team seemed strong but I knew the toll that repeated exertion takes on the body; how hard it is to strap on a harness when every muscle aches; how every jolt seems to add a few kilograms to the weight of your sledge. I thought of Steve Jones, my contact at ALE. I have known Steve for a number of years and greatly value his advice, which has been amassed from leading dozens of polar expeditions himself. His guidance had been that leading novices to the South Pole, 5-foot-tall novices from tropical countries at that, was challenging enough without demanding that they be unsupported as well. I could see his point and yet I couldn’t help toying with the temptation of allowing the team to really show what they could do.
On the last night of our mini-expedition we camped close to the ski lodge in preparation for our early departure the next morning. During the evening I took the opportunity to talk to Helen, Reena, Kim and Charmaine individually about the dynamics I had seen within their tent. I had sensed tension between Helen and Charmaine, overhearing the strain in their voices as they spoke to each other. ‘Everything has to be done Charmaine’s way,’ Helen told me. ‘She’s very protective of her own personal space in the tent. There’s not a lot of teamwork.’
Reena, on the other hand, expressed surprise at my concern. ‘Charmaine is really helping Kim. We are all very happy,’ she said. I had been really impressed with Reena over the week. She had clearly taken everything we had said in Norway on board and had arrived in New Zealand looking fit and strong. Never one to be conspicuously in the centre of things, she had nevertheless taken on an important role within the team. She was incredibly giving, saw nothing but the good in people, and was always ready with well-timed praise or encouragement. I came to see Reena as the quiet but steadfast heart of the team, radiating enough goodwill to bind the rest of the group together. The one downside to Reena’s constantly positive attitude was that I wasn’t sure if she would tell me if there were problems, so it was hard to ascertain whether Kim and Charmaine’s close friendship was making her feel excluded or not. Despite Reena’s comments to the contrary, I couldn’t ignore what I had se
en in the tent.
I spoke to Kim and congratulated her on her progress; she really had worked hard to be self-disciplined. There were still problems but watching her performance in New Zealand my confidence grew that, with the support of the rest of the team, she would make it to the South Pole. Without mentioning names, I gently warned Kim about the dangers of relying too much on one person and suggested that an overly close relationship within the team might make others feel excluded. ‘I hadn’t thought of it like that before,’ she said. ‘I would hate to be making anyone else feel bad.’ She went back to the tent looking thoughtful.
Later I caught up with Charmaine. It was pitch-black and we both stood looking up at the stars that glimmered in a perfectly clear sky. I had made a conscious effort to open up to her over the last few days, sharing my thoughts about the logistical issues that lay ahead and seeking her opinion on decisions that had to be made. I genuinely liked Charmaine a great deal and so it wasn’t difficult to chat and share a joke with her as we skied, but there was still evident tension between us. Whether intentionally or not, in front of the team she was often openly disapproving of my actions and decisions in a way that was almost patronising and ultimately infuriating. I could see that the rest of the team had noticed the rift and while some swept it aside, others (as I had feared) found it unsettling. I mentioned my worries about Kim’s growing dependence. Charmaine wasn’t anxious. ‘I think it’s just that Kim needs reassurance. This week has given her a lot of confidence so I think she’ll be fine on the ice.’ She was more concerned about Helen. ‘She’s not very open to new ways of doing things,’ she said.
Changing the subject slightly, I reiterated what I had said at the beginning of the week, ‘Charmaine, I know you don’t always agree with the way I do things but we need to work closely together because the team are going to need that reassurance in Antarctica.’
‘Well, I hope you know you can rely on me,’ she replied. I smiled in thanks but as we went back to watching the stars in silence, I wondered: when it came to it, would Charmaine work with me, or against me?
At the end of the New Zealand training not everyone was able to continue onto Singapore for the scheduled meeting with Kaspersky Lab. Reena, Steph, Era, Sophia and I nervously made our way to the hotel where we would meet our title sponsors for the first time. Suk Ling was an impeccably elegant woman who greeted us all like old friends, but the stack of folders and notebooks that she carried with her everywhere hinted at the relentless taskmaster we would come to know. She introduced us to her team and finally to her boss, Harry, the man who had given the critical final approval to the expedition’s sponsorship. Harry was extremely influential. As well as being managing director of Kaspersky Lab Asia and a member of the board of directors, he had a reputation as a marketing genius. Given such an intimidating CV, it was a surprise to find him an extremely relaxed character. He said very little and smiled a lot but it was clear that Harry was a very astute and exacting businessman, and I was determined that the expedition would exceed his expectations in terms of a return on his investment in us.
Suk Ling had arranged a press conference at the National Geographic Store in Singapore to launch Kaspersky Lab’s sponsorship of the expedition. We arrived at the store to find it had been transformed into a representation of the South Pole. In front of a large screen displaying an Antarctic scene was a tiered stage covered in polystyrene snow, crowned with a replica of the barber’s pole and silver sphere that mark the real South Pole. We were to sit on the stage with Harry in front of an audience of journalists and would be interviewed by a presenter posing as a famous polar explorer. (There was some discussion about whether the presenter should be Robert Falcon Scott or Roald Amundsen. Although Amundsen was the first person to reach the South Pole, Scott of the Antarctic was considered more famous. When asked my opinion I pointed out that Scott had actually died, along with his men, during his expedition to the South Pole, which might not be the best omen for the expedition. It was decided to go with Amundsen.)
Finally, the journalists began to arrive and the five of us representing the team took our places on stage with Harry. As the presenter, dressed up in a polar jacket borrowed from the store, introduced himself as Roald Amundsen I wondered how many journalists in the audience would leave the event under the false impression they had seen the real Roald Amundsen. (Judging by the write-ups afterward, quite a few.)
After the event, Suk Ling seemed pleased with the coverage but was troubled that the subject of money had dominated the question and answer session. I make a point of never talking about exact figures with journalists and had asked the team to do the same. Inevitably numbers would get misreported or old information recycled and it could lead to all sorts of misunderstandings; so saying nothing precise about budgets and funding seemed the safest option. However, the difficulty came when we were asked if we had all the money we needed. The truthful answer was no. The money from Kaspersky Lab would cover logistical costs but we still needed equipment. Kaspersky Lab was our exclusive title sponsor, so we couldn’t look for other sponsors to cover these additional expenses. Instead we hoped to raise money through fundraising events or to persuade suppliers to donate the equipment to the expedition. This troubled Suk Ling and she took Harry to one side to discuss it with him. I couldn’t be precise about why, but the situation worried me. I felt vaguely anxious.
That afternoon we had another press conference, this time in the form of a video conference call to four countries at once: Malaysia, the Philippines, Hong Kong and Taiwan. There were a lot of journalists and a lot of interest but again, the subject of money dominated the interviews. Harry answered all the financial questions but Suk Ling looked uncomfortable. After the press conference, the team were asked to wait outside while Harry and Suk Ling spoke with each other. We were called back into the office and, although I couldn’t see that we had done anything wrong, I prepared to defend myself and the expedition. I was in for a surprise. ‘Kaspersky Lab really admire your adventure and you adventurous ladies. We have put a lot of money into the expedition but we really want to see you and your team succeed – we want you to think of us as your ninth team member. But for us, because it is such a big investment, we don’t want to share that with any other companies. That is why we want to be your exclusive sponsors.’ I nodded and smiled enthusiastically. Suk Ling continued, ‘It’s not good for us that you are still looking for money.’ There was a pause. I looked at Harry who sat quietly, looking at the space in front of him. ‘That is why,’ she continued, ‘Harry has decided to cover the rest of your expenses.’ All eyes fell on Harry in astonished silence. ‘Harry will give you another fifty thousand dollars, even if it has to come out of his own pocket.’
I knew I should say something but I didn’t know where to start. My eyes stung with tears at the overwhelming relief and as the news sunk in, I felt the financial stress that I had been carrying for the last year slide from my shoulders. It was, quite literally, a dream come true. All our money worries had quite unexpectedly disappeared. Harry was our unexpected knight in shining armour. Steph was the first to react, whooping with joy and rushing across the room to hug Harry. The rest of us followed and Harry laughed, clearly astonished that he had caused such joy. Harry and the Kaspersky Lab team had to leave shortly afterwards. We said our goodbyes and watched them leave before slumping into the cool leather sofas in reception. No one said anything for a long minute. Reena hesitantly broke the silence, ‘So, does that mean that we don’t need any more money?’
‘We have everything we need,’ I replied. ‘We’re going to Antarctica.’
Chapter Seven
The Exam
The meeting with Kaspersky Lab in Singapore had been more successful than I could have hoped but with the sponsorship came a lot of responsibility. Returning to the UK in mid September there were just six weeks until the team departed. I was soon receiving at least a dozen emails a day from the Kaspersky Lab team and it became obvious that they expected
results – fast. Not only did I have to arrange the rebranding of clothing and equipment but there was now urgent need for a new branded expedition website; departure and return events to be organised; a detailed media plan to be put in place and press releases to be written for all eight countries. The Kaspersky Lab team also had to be brought up to speed on every aspect of the expedition, particularly the details of our expected arrival at the South Pole. I threw myself willingly into the work – this was, after all, what sponsorship was all about – but it was overwhelming. Suk Ling had a team of five or six people working on the expedition at Kaspersky Lab but there was only one me to answer all their queries and requests; I was soon swamped.
Feeling my stress levels reaching new heights I relished a well-timed excuse to escape for a few days. I had been commissioned by a UK magazine to write about some walking routes in the north-east of England, and I couldn’t afford to pass up the work. I set out early into the mountains, as the blue-tinged haze of morning was still clearing from the valleys, and weaved upwards towards the rounded summits of the Cheviot Hills through a spectacular rock-lined gorge, scrambling along boulder-lined streams and secluded waterfalls. It was invigorating to be striding alone across the high moors on a perfect autumn day. Feeling the sun warm my back as I climbed, luxuriating in the silence and the isolation, my mind mulled over the problems I had left at home. I was surprised that out of all the issues and difficulties faced by the expedition, there was one situation that caused me more worry and angst than all the others. It wasn’t the sponsorship or the logistics; it wasn’t the crevasses or the cold; it was Charmaine.
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