Three days of training in the cold served most of its purpose. Testing
the gear, refining systems and helping to get us acclimated to
operating in adverse conditions. After contemplating joining another
team, Rick and I discuss that I will lead my own.

Keith will join me and I feel good about that. In the back of my mind,
I am contemplating soloing it; it is still a possibility. Makes it
tough to film and photograph… Much to think about as the plane takes
off from cold and grey Duluth, Minnesota: the dog sled capital of the
America… Back in LA, the countdown has begun. Keith and I will set of
on March 23rd.

February training in Minnesota. Nothing like the lake district inMinnesota in the middle of winter to test systems and get in the mindframe to face the harsh conditions of the Polar North. Months ofrigorous diet, physical and mental training are mandatory to make the pole. If you like camping in the snow, pulling a 200 lbs sled for 8hours a day and jumping in a hole in the ice, then this is a great wayto spend a holiday. If you don’t, not so much!

The Boundary Waters area in Minnesota are, surprisingly, easiest to
travel in the winter. The many lakes are frozen and the surrounding
forest is cut though by skidoo and dog sleds trails where marshes take
over in the summer. After a hearty breakfast by the campfire we set off
for a full day of skiing, pulling the mammoth sledge. By and large, I
am relieved that I feel fit for the challenge. But the hours roll by at
a snail’s pace. The conditions are mild but very humid. My body
temperature rises rapidly and while the outside temperatures hover
around freezing, and it snows for much of the day, I find that shedding
my jacket, hat, and gloves is plenty warm while pulling the heavy
sledge. Even with a short day, I sense the challenge of the Great North
where the hours drag on with no end in sight and the brutal cold
imposes total protection from frostbite. The skiing is, in fact
solitary and leaves plenty of time to reflect. A permeating thought
invades my mind as I contemplate what type of individuals subject
themselves to this painful exercise. Is it escapism? Is it fear? Is it
a “mal de vivre” or a disenchantment with the world. I ponder these
thoughts as my legs burn; my back aches; and while I breath heavily,
filling my lungs with the cold air, I visualize the endless white
desert of the Great North roll before me.

Five and a half hours and we have traveled 7.4 miles, which is a
reasonable speed considering the weight I am pulling. The moist climate
penetrates every stitch of clothing, and when we break to make camp at
the edge of a small lake, I am too spent to fully take in the beauty of
the surroundings. Heavy snowflakes cover the tent where the four of us
will sleep tonight. The cooking stove quickly warms up our tent, but
the intense humidity is taxing. My body aches, and as I lay to rest I
am contemplative of my limitations which silently scream from the
depths of my soul: What type of man are you to think you will succeed
at this?”

Up early to feed the kennel of sled dogs, we find unusually mild
temperatures. And rain. We won’t set off on the lake before early
afternoon, after a careful review of all of our equipment and
clothing–what is appropriately referred to as “ systems”. The idea is
to refine the systems to the extent that only what is needed is packed
to save both weight and space. Even after careful edits of my checklist
before leaving, it turns out that I still have brought too much. An
extra pairs of underwear can add unnecessary weight. Keith impresses on
me the value of a carefully tuned and minimal pack. The same top and
bottom base layer will be worn for more than one month! I carefully
pack my newly purchased pulka or sledge, which in this case—and to
justify the five thousand dollar price tag–is the Rolls Royce of
sleds!  Not much to it as it turns out, except for a fiberglass bucket,
but in this rarified business, options and competition are scarce. This
sledge will be my lifeline for the forty days or so on the ice.

The mild temps and the rain make for very heavy conditions and I have
some trepidation pulling my 200 pounds of weight. As we set out, the
sledge starts gliding in the slush and before long my body temperature
rises to a steady sweat. This will be the biggest challenge in the
great North. Sweat can be deadly. The game hinges on how to regulate
the systems to maximize performance while minimizing body heat. After
two hours of skiing around the lake, we set up camp, build a fire in
the snow, and tell stories of polar travel around dinner. By 10:30 p.m.
it is lights out. Tomorrow will be the first test of endurance with
eight full hours of skiing. Outside, light flakes are falling and the
temperature slowly drops below freezing.