We nibble on nuts, truffles, and pieces of deep-fried bacon, quietly contemplating our next move. It’s obvious we can’t run the stoves long enough to dry everything without risking a fuel shortage. Nor do we have any time to spare. “What do you think we should do?” I say, already knowing the answer.
“We need to keep going,” Tyler says. “Today.” We know this is our only option. Tyler and I expected that one of us would go through the ice at some point. We have rehearsed rescues like this many times over the years. Our training has paid off, but we’re mad at ourselves for needing it now.
I change into a pair of Tyler’s long underwear and put a layer of my damp underwear on top, then an extra layer of fleece. By continuing to ski, I’ll be able to gradually dry out my clothes with body heat.
Within an hour and a half, we have packed up the tent and stowed our gear. My skis are encased in a thick rime of ice. They look like two thin cherry Popsicles fresh out of the freezer. It takes me a few minutes to scrape the ice off using the metal edge of one of Tyler’s skis. Then we are on our way. I feel damp, but my body warms slowly as the circulation increases.
After an hour of skiing west along the lead, we come to a place where it is only twenty yards wide. Here the frost flowers are bigger and the ice appears thicker—most of it is grey and white, interspersed with a few darker stretches. We test it thoroughly. It holds, but I have my reservations. The thought of another dunking scares me. “What do you think?” I ask Tyler. “It looks a bit sketchy to me.”
“I feel good about it. We’ll have to zigzag some, but this ice will hold us.” His confidence lifts me up a bit. We decide to go for it. Tyler starts skiing across the lead. The ice flexes slightly but shows no signs of tearing. Thirty seconds later he reaches thicker ice and waves for me to follow. Underneath my skis the ice springs a little bit, but it feels firm enough. I gingerly slide forward. It’s a surreal feeling, skiing on thin ice again. I focus on making my strides even and smooth. Once I’m across we give each other a mittened high five. The north side of the lead—whew! The crossing gives our morale a much-needed boost.
Around 10:00 p.m. we slide into our sleeping bags. What a day! Our partnership has endured some wild and unexpected swings. This morning Tyler unloaded his frustrations. Two hours later he saved my life. This afternoon the wind battered us from the northwest at fifteen knots and we considered stopping early. But Tyler wanted us to “end strong,” so we pressed on. Now here we are, our optimism intact.
Are we going to make it to the North Pole? The next eight days will tell. Three years ago, when this journey was still in its nascent stages, we weren’t sure what lay ahead. But we knew it would change our lives.
—Excerpt from Forward by John Huston and Tyler Fish. Reprinted with permission of authors and Octane Press. Order Forward here and connect with the authors on www.forwardexpeditions.com.
