Nordkapp : Continental Europe's most northerly point

Nordkapp and Europes Most Northern Point High up in Norways polar region lies Nordkapp. Translated to North Cape its often yet inaccurately credited as Europes most northern point. Nordkapp is essentially a 300odd metre cliff which towers above the Berets Sea.

At the top, sits the visitor centre, restaurant, handful of monuments and most notably a carved out passage leading to an opening in the cliff face where you can view the ocean. Nordkapp is well on the tourist trail, reachable by a single road (E69) which terminates at the visitor centre. Entrance to the visitor entre is 275 nok (26) per person. For the purists whom aren't satisfied by the latitude on offer by Nordkapps visitor centre, then you'll be pleased to know that many adventurous souls press on to the neighbouring point of Knivskjellodden, which is in fact over a kilometre further north, and a stronger contender for Europe's most northern point. Reaching Knivskjellodden will not be as straight forward as arriving at Nordkapp but the rewards are greater.

The route starts at a small car park about 7km south of Nordkapp, and runs for 8km (5 miles) to the finishing point. A small information point maps out the area. From the start point, one should follow the red Ts and stone cairns which are marked out along the route. Whilst a map may not be necessary in clear weather conditions if fog sets in (which could happen) suddenly the next marker will not always be visible. The actual trail itself isn't as well defined as you may expect, meaning its quite possible to get lost. Carrying some form of GPS device capable of getting you back to the car park would be a wise move. The three hour hike will take you across a relatively shallow gradient past lakes, muddy bogs and grassy plateaus before making a steep descent to sea level.

Shortly afterwards, there's a small stream which runs into the sea. The modest bridge is the only evidence that man has ever stepped foot in this part of the world and its recommended to take a few minutes to cast your eyes around the spectacular situation you're in and to fully absorb the sense of remoteness. Looking around, you'll be surrounding valley walls and only the ocean in front sparks your intuition to head towards it. The final section can be tricky on the ankles as it hugs the coastline taking you along slanted rocky shores for a further kilometre. The end point is marked with a metal box containing a guest book, where you can record your achievement and join the list of people that have undertaken such a memorable experience before you. At this point, its possible to walk right down to the sea a further few metres away, before you truly can not walk any further. Beyond the horizon just over 1300 miles away lies the north pole.

Returning to your starting point is along the same route so factor that in. Though its a three hour hike, its also a three hour hike back totalling 16km (10 miles) of walking. The harsh winters mean that the only viable option to embark on a trip to Nordkapp and/or Knivskjellodden is over the summer months. The road to Nordkapp is closed in the winter. Bear in mind that the summer months in the Polar Regions wont necessarily mean warm and sunny. The extreme latitudes mean that visitors can experience 24hour daylight, so take on this track at anytime of the day. Midnight sun is visible between 14 May-29 July. So, after all this, can one say that theyve been to the most northern point of Europe? No well, sort of. Both Nordkapp and Knivskjellodden are positioned on the island of Magerya which is joined to the mainland by a 4.27 mile undersea tunnel (tolled at 145 NOK (16) for a car plus an additional 47 NOK (5) per adult each way).

Being positioned on an island means that strictly speaking its not part of the mainland Europe. The actual northern most point of mainland Europe lies at a lower latitude, at Cape Nordkinn. This article focuses on taking you beyond the most northern point in mainland Europe, though the reality of it is that there's not much in it. Which ever northern most point your journey takes you to, you will be taken to the frontiers of human settlement, the surreal surroundings will leave you amazed and it will take some time for your accomplishment to truly sink in.

E-publishing & editors for expedition books

I'm looking for an editor for the book I've just written on our last expedition (A Short Walk in the Gambian Bush - a 930km African odyssey) and indeed it edited before I put it out there.

I'm also thinking of e-publishing (with photos too)...any ideas,,tips, suggestions would be much appreciated.

Many thanks,

Helen

Wings of Kilimanjaro - The reconnaissance climb

"I had such a brilliant time climbing Kilimanjaro!! I loved it. Its a mountain Ive wanted to climb for years and for many reasons it was everything Id hoped for and more. Unlike Everest Kilimanjaro is accessible to most people. It can be done in a week, its realistic to be able to train for it with a full time job, its not too expensive, its challenging without being crazy and its beautiful. The reason this trip came about was because I was part of the Wings of Kilimanjaro reconnaissance team.

Wings of Kilimanjaro (WoK) is an event that will see up to 200 paraglider and handglider pilots attempt to fly from the summit early next year and in doing so raise over $1million for charity. We didnt fly this time!! Kilimanjaro is in a national park and the permit to fly has only been issued for the main event next year. This trip was to check out the routes to the top, the camps, possible take off sites and to work on event logistics. There were seven of us including myself Adrian McRae Founder of Wok Peter Bowyer Safety officer for the event Peter Grieg Photographer Jayme Moye Journalist Tim Katya Leach Pilot and locals with insider info! We spent 8 days on Kilimanjaro this is longer than most trips. We had to allow time to circumnavigate the mountain, visit different camps, make sure we acclimatised well and explore all of our options.

We summited the mountain and spent time looking at the possible take off areas. There are several options but their suitability will depend hugely on conditions when we are there in January. It was a clear blue sky day and the clouds were below us. Stunning! At 5,895m the mountain is over 1000m higher than Mont Blanc and should not be underestimated! Its definitely not a climb, its a trek and there is no need for crampons. You are not on ice or snow but the effects of altitude can be felt from around 3000m. Whilst lots of people do make it to the summit many people become ill and don't make it. I was on this trip because I wanted to see the mountain for myself and because I wanted to know exactly what WoK was about, the people behind it and how the money raised was being spent. Its one thing organising a climb and fly when you are doing it for yourself (as I did on Mt Blanc) but its quite a different matter organising up to 200 pilots plus a support team of up to 1000 people. Was this even a realistic idea?! Adrian McRae is an intelligent man with big dreams and, I believe, has the right components to make this a brilliant event. He has been working on this project for a few years now and has invested large amounts of his own time, effort and money to give it the best possible chance of success.

After many visits and time spent in the county he has an understanding of how things work in Africa. It is no easy task dealing with and understanding how the authorities function! Peter Bowyer is a very experienced pilot. He has been instructing for years and has worked as safely officer on many events. Having spent time with Peter on the expedition I know that he will have no issues with making the decision to fly or not. If the conditions arent right or the pilots are not fit to fly Peter will not permit them to do so. There will be a minimum of one helicopter present on the mountain should a rescue be necessary. Leading the expedition was Silvano Hamisi Mvungi, the owner and chief guide of Top of Africa Expeditions and guide partner for WoK. The logistics for this trip went smoothly and Im hopeful that this company has the staff, equipment and ability to handle the huge group that will be on the mountain next year. I think it might be worth remembering though that TIA.. this is Africa! and perhaps all people involved in the main event should pack a good amount of patience and understanding, especially for the first few days of the hike as everyone finds their pace and this large group settles into things!

Peter Greig is a wonderfully creative guy and has been very involved with WoK since the beginning and has worked closely with Adrian McRae. He documented this trip and his stunning photos can be seen by clicking here I met the team, I climbed the mountain. so what do I think about WoK?? I think its an absolutely incredible project with a remarkable team of people behind it. I'm excited to be a pilot and to be part of the main event. The mountain is beautiful, the route is good, there are camp sites that will accommodate the WoK group and there are good take off sites if the weather plays ball! The money raised will be going to very good causes and the WoK team are actively encouraging people to stay longer or re-visit Tanzania to get involved with the projects that the money will be funding. I think it is critical that people have realistic expectations. This is the largest group of people that Kilimanjaro has ever seen and as I mentioned before this is Africa!

Things probably wont run smoothly 100% of the time. Climbing mountains and paragliding are both sports that involve risk and elements that are out of our control. To climb the mountain and fly off the top would be great but that is not a given. The real glory in being a part of WoK is that you are part of a journey and a team that will see you try to climb a wonderful mountain and attempt to fly off the top. That may or may not happen, but what will happen is that the combined amounts of money that we all raise and donate will make a positive difference to many peoples lives and that is quite simply incredible.

www.squashfalconer.com"

The Zugspitze

The Zugspitze via Reintal Theres a lot more to Bavaria than beer, bratwurst and the local population sporting their traditional lederhosen (for men) and dirndl (for women) dress. For history buffs there are castles, for skiers there are plenty of slopes and for hikers or climbers, well, you have the Zugspitze which, at 2,962 metres, marks Germanys highest point.

There are a handful of routes to the summit from both Austria and Germany - of course if its just the view you're after then you can get a cable car up to the top in about 10 minutes (49.50 Euro return). Two of the more popular routes start on the German side. Hllental (Valley of Hell) is the preferred option for many. Its a shorter, more direct route and is said to be more interesting; what makes it so interesting is that you'll need crampons to cross the Hllentalferner Glacier, bridge the odd crevasse and the route requires the use of a harness to negotiate a via ferrata (Italian for iron road) or more appropriate considering our location, a klettersteig (German for climbing path).

With this in mind (and taking our limited experience with crampons and harnesses into account) we decide to take the longer, and probably more off the beaten track, route via the Reintal valley. In the days preceding our trip, we told people of our intended route, only to be met with pretty much the same response each time - Do you realise how long it takes? followed by, You know there are huts where you can sleep along the way. Indeed we are well aware that this route can take over 10 hours and, even more pressingly, were aware that the last cable car down is about 4.30pm, so we know its going to be a very early start. Our journey starts in the Bavarian town of Garmisch-Partenkirchen, or simply (though incorrectly) Garmisch. Wonderfully surrounded by alpine landscape, this place has a real charm about it. Typical Bavarian lodges, their balconies lined with colourful flowers, provide a lovely backdrop for a walk around town.

Even at the height of summer its easily to imagine what a magical winter wonderland this place must be. Accommodation and services are plentiful. We stay at the appropriately named Hostel 2962 the height of the peak weve come to summit. Following a 15-minute walk from our hostel, by 5am we find ourselves approaching the 1936 Winter Olympic stadium, where the trail officially begins. Our open space quickly disappears as the path nestles between a rocky wall and the fast flowing river. Before we know it were in a deep and narrow canyon cut into the surrounding rock, water roaring below through its narrow base, with water falling from the walls above - this is truly an amazing display of white water and vegetation far above you. The paths are cut into the wall and in parts lead through small tunnels alongside the water. The canyon twists and turns in the dawn twilight, allowing just a fraction of the light to penetrate through. Just being in the presence of such energy is enough to get our hearts pounding and fully wake us from our early morning daze. Its really tempting to stick around and play with different shutter speeds on our camera (and attempt to hold it steady) but weve got a strict time scale to stick to.

We've a long day ahead of us and the last thing we want is to get to the top of the peak, only to find weve missed the last cable car back down in 11 hours time. Its not long before were back in the open; the river opens up and slows down, the surrounding walls begin to widen to reveal a forested valley. The hike from here on could be considered quite leisurely - if wed not been on this time scale. For the first couple of hours the trek takes us over a well-defined gravel path. Gradually the path rises and falls again, running alongside the lush green forested valley walls before redirecting back to the fast flowing river. Occasionally a bridge takes us over to the other bank then back again. The dark of the early morn has lifted, but were sheltered from direct sunlight by the valley walls, and the air remains refreshing cool. We keep up the pace; hardly noticing the subtle narrowing of the path as our team naturally falls in line and makes its way through the depths of this marvellous valley. Before we know it weve gained some altitude and come across a beautiful naturally formed pool that is filled by a small stream.

The crystal clear body of water encased in the white smoothed rock provides an opportunity to replenish our water supply. For Dan the find is too difficult to resist as he strips down and jumps in to cool off in the near freezing water. A few photos are taken of this picturesque and pristine landscape, pool in forefront and meandering river glimmering in the sunlight below. Ten minutes from the pool we unexpectedly come to the Reintalanger Hut. We check the time and decide there's no time to stop and we persevere on to the next hut, a sign-posted two and a half hours away. Shortly after the hut we realise this leisurely stroll has come to an end. Weve had it easy for these first 15 odd kilometres, and now its time to gain some real altitude. A final section over a flat meadow takes us up to what Ive been dreading: the hard push up. By now we have steep, high valley walls not only on either side of us, but also up ahead of us. We can make out the steep, intimidating rocky switch backs which were heading towards, and no sign of an end to this misery.

Progress up the steep rocky switch backs is slow. Respite from the high sun is non-existent, its hot and were going through a lot of water. The journey is long and tedious, and altitude is gaining steeply. In front of us we can only see the rocky route, but behind us lies the amazing view of the valley through which we've passed. After what seems like forever in the blasting sun, surprisingly we come to a small pipe emerging from the rock offering ice cool water that's running into a wooden trough. I bend over and dunk my entire head in to cool of, and take a seat next to a German couple with a map; they offer me a biscuit and inform me that its only 45 minutes or so till the next hut. Cooled off we continue along the rocky ill-defined route, keeping our eyes open for red painted markers every few metres signalling the best way to proceed. Finally a building begins to come into view - first the roof then walls, followed by people on the veranda. We've made it to the Knorr Hut.

Its mentally rewarding to finally to pass some form of marker. Here we sit, order large colas and open up our sandwiches, enjoying a rest for 30 minutes. As my eyes close I can feel my body insisting its nap time but I know that's not really an option for us. Its incredibly hard to set off again, but essential. We've made good time but depending on whats ahead of us, this could easily be reversed. By now most of the vegetation is far below us; were surrounded by a world of greys, steep valley walls either side - this place seems remarkably barren. For now at least it seems that we've left the steepest section behind, less switchbacks and a more gradual route leads us slowly higher. Its necessary to cross patches of snow as we make our way to the Zugspitzplatt, the plateau below the summit, which in the winter is popular with skiers. Its eerily silent en route until the ringing of bells from sheep and goats meets our ear drums. There are hundreds from the flock basking in the sun, stubbornly not willing to move out of a hikers way.

Almost two hours from the last hut we passed were coming up to a horse-shoe ridged wall which towers above us from all directions (except from where we've come). In the distance we see buildings and a relatively large number of people crisscrossing the plateau in all directions; the isolation we've felt until now dissipates. High above I can make out the summit building, our goal, though at this moment I'm not entirely sure how the route will lead us up there. Within about 45 minutes we come to a junction in our route. Left lead to a cable car which could take us up to the summit in 5 minutes; right, we climb. We've been at it for over 8 hours. I'm exhausted, soaked with sweat and almost mentally defeated. Right now its so easy to cheat, so tempting to get the cable car up to the summit and for a moment I feel my body stepping in the direction with the cable car station and ski hub, but we've come this far and eventually I make my way along the track which will take us to the summit. The climb is along an incredibly steep and loose scree slope and more dreaded switch backs, the rocks dry and dusty and with every slip the unleashed dust blows in my face. Height is gained and below us we see the hustle and bustle of the plateau.

Though not immediately obvious, if you know where to look you'll see the Schneefernerkopf glacier which lies on the north back ridge wall of the plateau. The scree is climbed to get to the solid rocky ridge section. While I'm delighted with the prospect of solid footing, its pretty exposed and via feratta, the iron rope, is used. I take five, witness a few climbers attach their harness on to the iron rope, take a gulp of water and move on towards the final ridge section (no harness). Its not long before I ease into a stride, constantly running my hand along the iron rope in case I begin to feel my feet give way. For the first time in hours I have a sense of making real progress. The iron rope is a great confidence booster, perhaps even providing a false sense of security, as I'm not sure if after all these hours my reaction time would be adequate should I begin to fall. Even if it were, strength would probably fail me at this point. There are a few sections where metal spikes in the rock must be crossed but these are straightforward and easily negotiated if you've a head for heights.

The via ferrata zig-zags up to the exposed ridge, which marks the border between Austria and Germany with a white demarcation post every few metres. The views are breath-taking here, and for the first time we can see the lands beyond the mountains, past the valley and ridge walls which confined our view until now. The final 20 minutes on the ridge are spectacular, but still our exhaustion takes its toll, and the summit buildings become larger as we approach. I conclude that with the right conditions and the right footwear you'll be fine on this section. Walking along the ridge is exhilarating, its not as narrow as Id imagined and at times I even let my hand go from the iron rope. After a little over 10 hours I finally set foot on the first step which takes me up to a complex build atop this mighty mountain. The summit buildings are a real feat of engineering.

Together they almost resemble a villains lair from a Bond film. Restaurants, bars, shops, even accommodation in the form of the Mnchner Haus hut are all available here. Much of the exteriors are viewing platforms, and wow what a view they offer. The surrounding peaks and ridges are spectacular; Lake Eibsee is stunningly beautiful in its deep blue glory. Its just a little past 3.30pm and we can relax with a drink among the crowds and toast our achievement until Dan actually notes we've not quite got the peak. We slowly set off again, for the last time. Its about 5 minutes away and involves a brief descent from the viewing platform and a short climb back up a neighbouring peak, aided with an iron ladder and rope here Germany's highest point is marked with a tall golden cross, the atmosphere slighted marred by the traffic jam of people trying to get a symbolic touch.

The views, however, remain undeniable. This gruelling yet amazing trek up the Zugspitze has taken us a little over 10 hours from the town of Garmisch. We've made it in time to get our cable car down though due to high volumes of visitors apparently well not be getting the 10-minute cable car down. Instead the attendant explains that we need to take the other cable car down to the plateau where wed come from, where we can board an underground cogwheel train that will take us the rest of the way.

The train takes an uncomfortable hour but were thankful for some brief shut eye before we make it back to Garmisch. www.doinitonline.com More info Hostel 2961: www.hostel2962-garmisch.com Information regarding the huts: www.davplus.de/huetten Zugspitze website: www.zugspitze.de"

Explorer of the Month: Victor Boyarsky

Ever wanted to know how to become an explorer? Or how your contemporaries do all the things they do (and get away with it)?

Each month Explorers Connect interviews one of its members to find out everything you need to know. This month if you've ever been to the pole via the Barneo ice base at 89 degrees north you may well recognise the modesty and smiles of the man who runs it: VICTOR BOYARSKY

How did you become an explorer?

I am just a lucky man whose dreams about active and adventurous life were magically fulfilled. In my youth I dreamed to became or sailor as my father was, or a polar man (huge impact of Jack London), and after graduating in 1973 I got just only one place available at the Arctic and Antarctic Research Institute and the same year went to Antarctica. Then for nearly 15 years I worked as a scientist studying ice and snow with remote sounding systems, taking part in four Antarctic and six Arctic scientific expeditions. 1987 became a very special year for my polar career I was chosen as a Soviet member of the International Transantarctica Expedition.

Still guessing why?

There were many scientists in our Institute who could have taken this place, but I was lucky again. Maybe one of the reasons was that at that time (1987) I didnt know any words in English which meant I could definitely keep all Soviet secrets hidden deep inside even being in the team with men representing the USA, UK, France, Japan and China! It was a great time with our incredible dogs and on skies we crossed Greenland in 1988 from South to North (nearly 2000 km in 64 days), in 1989-1990 we crossed the whole Antarctic continent on longest possible way 6500 km with dogs and on skis. It took us 221 days to do that and we became the second (and last) dog-sled expedition after Amundsen to reach the South Pole with dogs. In 1991-1993 I took part in several expeditions in Canadian Arctic training for Transarctic expedition, which happened in 1995 (Siberian coast- Ellesmere Island). Since 1997 up to now I am running a commercial project, organizing skiing expeditions to the North Pole.

Why do you do it?

This is type of life I like combination science and adventure, possibility to share your own feelings with those who hit this snowy road for first time in their life. What scares you the most? Not being able to continue such a way of living before getting tired. What is your greatest moment so far? Approaching the finish line after 6500 km of skiing across Antarctica.

What's the most dangerous situation you've ever been in?

September 1st 1976 is considered to be my second Birthday - on that day I survived after getting lost in heavy blizzard in Antarctica.

What makes you smile?

All besides things making me angry.

What are the biggest obstacles to expedition success?

Serious illness, or bad injury, in other words Lack of Luck!

What's the worst injury you've ever had?

The worst definitely will be one which prevents me from taken part in the expedition.

What's the greatest thing about succeeding?

Motivation, belief and optimism.

What's the meaning of your life?

Living in the way which can make happy not only you but someone else.

How can I do what you do?

Everyone has his own Pole.

What's your nickname?

Vittorio.

How do you balance the adventurous life with your home life?

It is greatest dis-balance in my whole life.

What's the one thing you do better than anyone else you know?

Writing poems.

What one thing couldn't you live without on expedition?

Fuel.

What is the best advice you've been given in your career?

Dont try to be excellent, just be good!

Is there anything left to explore?

Of course. Just look around and you definitely will find something to explore.

Why does the modern world need explorers?

They give to others ideas how to live another way and show on their own example that if one really dreams about something, he for sure will be able to make it happen.

If you could only do one more expedition what would it be and why?

I would go to Nepal, because I never have been there and because the mountains for me are different dimension of the space.

What's your life time ambition?

Just not getting worse as person while getting elder.

How can readers learn more about you?

They can visit the site of Arctic and Antarctic Museum at : www.polarmuseum.ru and order my books (in Russian). Or you could visit the North Pole as a scientist or adventurer via his company www.norpolex.com Victor Boyarksy was interviewed and edited by Frank Coles, a writer and broadcaster with a taste for adventure.

You can find out more about him by reading his professional profile on Explorers Connect or at www.frankcoles.com. North Pole photos also by Frank Coles. All rights reserved."

Why we do it

I sit here outside Nairobi, unpacking mentally and emotionally from another Secret Compass expedition. This time eight team members from the widest possible variety of backgrounds trekked and climbed in the remote bush of South Sudan, the world's newest country, before rafting for five days on an almost unexplored section of the mighty White Nile. That followed on the heels of 2011's three-week horse and yak trek to Lake Zorkul in far north-eastern Afghanistan, arguably the world's most notorious country. As I sort through the inevitable backlog of electronic missives from civilisation enquiring as to my success, health, or even continued existence on this earth, I am repeatedly asked the same question from my friends - why?

Why do I devote my spare time, spare funds, and considerable effort in planning and execution to taking off to some of the most remote, and ostensibly inhospitable, places on the planet? What's wrong with two weeks on the beach in Thailand anyway? When asked to explain his ambitions on Everest, Mallory replied Because it's there. True, but so is the Thai beach, and the answer doesn't explain why choose one over the other. Of course there is the enjoyment and excitement of the activity itself. A trek in the mountains, or a river raft trip, is worth the time, effort and money by itself.

But these things can be enjoyed in relatively civilised surroundings. We live in a world where everything is pre-selected, packaged and delivered neatly to our door on request. Our food, our entertainment, our travel, all available in easily consumable servings. Thanks to modern technology - Youtube, Facebook, any number of pay-TV channels - it seems as if every part of the world has been digitised, uploaded, voiced over and put to a cool soundtrack. We can download the e-book or buy the HD Blu-Ray disc. We can be sold these things - however we can't be sold the experience. Because these things are just impressions, copies, filtered through someone else's senses. The true experience of being there, seeing it and hearing it for ourselves can never be packaged.

We can only have that by undertaking the journey ourselves. Theodore Roosevelt said (amongst many things) The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; Secret Compass expeditions involve only a limited amount of face marring, but the sentiment rings exactly true. It is better to be in the arena - trail, mountain, river - ourselves than to watch from the sidelines while others do it for us. Our society also tends to package and provide to us our information and opinions. These opinions may not be exactly what we would have formed for ourselves if given the opportunity. Another advantage of an exploratory-style expedition is that it almost requires us to become informed about the region we visit, in more than a superficial, sound-bite way. We may not always be going where no-one has gone before, but we are treading the path less travelled. It requires more than a cursory effort to do the necessary research beforehand. One fact uncovered leads to another, a map here, an obscure blog there.

Before our boots wander across the landscape, our curiosity wanders across the available information (such as it may be). And once in country, our curiosity is only aroused even more; our knowledge is confirmed or corrected, our opinions reinforced or refuted. We look with different eyes if we think our views are pioneering too. The opportunity to acquire unique knowledge of a remote location is only half the story however. Once back in civilisation, with the dirt removed from clothes, hair and fingernails, we have the chance to share our new-found perspective with friends and colleagues, and anyone else who happens to enquire. The water-cooler conversation is significantly different if we've just returned from South Sudan rather than southern Spain.

But as much as anything we take part in these expeditions because it's in our nature to do so. We humans are natural explorers, natural adventurers. Watch a small child at play: everything they do is exploration, is a question of what and why and how. What's around this corner, what's behind that door? They are constantly pushing their own personal horizon outwards. As adults our sense of adventure gets lost in the noise of everyday living. Exploration isn't a part of our nature, it is our nature.

This article was originally published on the website of Secret Compass, who ran the mentioned expeditions to Afghanistan's Wakhan corridor and South Sudan. I'm uploading it here in response to Explorers Connect's recently posted question Why do we explore?."

Lessons learned. Things that can go wrong on a 1140km triathlon!

I am passionate about life, learning and travelling, hence my lifestyle has always been very creative: finding ways to combine work, challenge and 'something new' I went from studying Biochemistry in Australia over being a journalist for a German newspaper to working at the BBC studios in London - oh yes, I dipped into the corporate world once or twice as well.

I realised that I would never fit 'one' job-description and decided it was time to filter-out the elements that are making my day and a difference in my life. The result: discovery, endurance, outdoor and learning by doing the idea of simply being an adventurer was born. Besides coming up with random adventures such as walking the Grand-Union Canal from Birmingham as far as I could get with a couple of pounds in my pocket, I made it my quest last year to create an adventure within 29 days including sponsorship: Mission Spain was born, cycling 4000km solo around Spain as free-cycle courier learning fluent Spanish on the way. What followed was the urge to digest of what happened and actually remind myself of 'the how' I made it happen. I self-published the book:

Don't just talk, do it first draft written in 30 days, another 30 days to get it up online. I was stunned about the evolution of a simple idea to the actual creation of an amazing life-changing project including the people and teams you build around you during this time. Knowing what I loved I was unstoppable to come up with the next idea: How to prepare better for a half-ironman than being adventurous and discovering new territories cultures at the same time? With this my Three Border Triathlon was born, a solo triathlon crossing 3 countries in just a month and a bit: 680km across Switzerland by bike, over 200km swimming along the Danube in Germany, finishing off with a 260km run traversing Austria. It took me a month to come up with the concept, another one to develop and organise it to then actually do it. The initial idea looked different: 550km swimming along the Danube and running 320km across Austria what went wrong? Let's have a look of what I have done? What went wrong and how I would do it differently next time? This can be useful for your adventure to prevent some good learning-mistakes Equipment transport: Bike Leg 1. Don't rely on the post-office I first went by bike, starting out from Geneva. All the equipment for my individual legs was packed in my rear panniers, such as the triathlon wetsuit, one pair of running shoes and other things I would need.

Everything except one item my lightweight tent. What went wrong here? I agreed with a friend in London that he would sponsor my 1.7kg Jack Wolfskin Gossamer tent (you know the lighter, the better). I had 10 days in Geneva before starting the journey. He bought the tent in London and sent it over via royal mail. It never arrived for some reason it was stuck in Zurich. One day before I was due to start, still nothing and no explanation from the post-office what happened: was it lost? Not allowed to pass? Or already been sent back? Only assumptions, no clear answers and no one in charge to solve this matter. The last thing you like to deal on your adventure is time-/energy-wasting administration. As there are not many good outdoor ships in Geneva, I couldn't even buy a tent with blowing my budget I was lucky that I had the chance to borrow one: instead of my expected 1.7kg lightweight tent I was now carrying a tent that weighed 3.7kg. Not good. I later bought the right one myself and spent money that was not accounted for. Lesson learned: Don't rely on the post (even if someone tells you the amount of time it will take) make sure you have the main equipment ready. Or check the stores you are travelling to and reserve the equipment you require to prevent extra costs, time-delay or simply giving up the control over your journey.

Equipment back-up: 2. When the equipment gives in I trusted that one set of equipment would do the job. So I had only one pair of running-shoes and one wetsuit. I had faith in the quality and did not even consider back-ups. What happened?: Have you ever swam 200km in a river on successive days?Before my last adventure, me neither and I think equipment companies don't test their items up to this endurance. For some reason my wetsuit became more porous with every day and more susceptible towards nail bits until it ripped trying to glue it did not work really. I was standing there with no back-up. Buying another one cost a hell of a lot. I had a great sponsor who sent out a second one, it only took days until it arrived cause it was coming from the US. I also had a bright buoy that not only kept my daily supplies dry but also acted as security hook just in case. After more than 10 days, it ripped my food and camera equipment soaked. For the run I thought one pair of shoes would do, everything was fine up to KM 240, then all of the sudden my Achilles were swelling, running turned into walking and walking into hopping.

The intended 320km across Austria turned to 260km. It changes your adventure completely if you trust on equipment that has not been tested under this circumstances. Lesson learned: There are two things I have learned 1. Evaluate the dependence on the set of equipment you take with you and see if you have the budget to buy yourself a second one if things go wrong. I was dependent on the wetsuit to keep away the cold and as for the safety swimmer to provide security during my solo swim-stages. Agree on a potential back-up with your sponsor or have two pairs. 2. When it comes to sports and you do something you have never done before, such as myself doing a 260km run, keep in mind that items such as shoes can cause a repetitive frictions on your muscles or ligaments see that you have two different pairs to reduce this as they will surrounds your body in a different way. Sponsors 2. Make sure you have a set agreement with your sponsor I was very lucky to have a Sponsor for the bike on board. I picked it up in Geneva and we agreed that once I would hit the Swiss border to send it back via train. No problem. He even provided me with a train ticket that you have to show at the station so they assume that you are going back as well and will pick up your bike from the train storage.

What happened? The train station did not allow to leave the rear panniers on the bike, nor the helmet. So I had to send them back via mail additional costs. Also in order for the station to take the bike you have to pay a small fee as well. Mentioning this to the sponsor he simply said it was my duty to pay for it. Ups. Lesson learned: I don't like unexpected costs on my adventure as everything is budgeted. Make an agreement with your sponsor if logistics are involved that he is taking over any unexpected costs that require the equipment to transport from A to B. It was not much that I had to pay but you know if you are on a longer trip, every penny you spent more is a penny spent less on food or things that might be necessary. If he disagrees from the start at least you know that a little buffer is required in this area, just in case. Independence 3. Don't give up control. I was very lucky that one day before I started my swim-leg, a local radio station sent me an email, saying: 'One of our reporters is going to accompany you'.

My first response: Great. My second one: Can I put my luggage in his car? The intention was to carry my luggage in a 80L dry-bag around my ankle while swimming the river. I tried it out, but when I got the offer from the station, I was just thinking of how to conquer the swim so if I can make it easier, why not taking the opportunity. What went wrong? The radio station said they would be with me up to a certain town. Great. It only happened that short-noticed their plans changed, and it turned into 10 days. So I was missing the logistics to transport my luggage up to the point they mentioned.

The weather was unusual cold for May, and it was a hardship to convince myself to step into this cold water, day after day to tick of the 20km stages. You spent the time and energy looking after yourself to be ready for the next day listening to your body to keep out of the danger zone, such as hypothermia. I had given up the organisational side of the project, got used to it and wasn't ready for plan B when it happened. I did manage on a daily basis, but it simply added 'stress' and organisation to actually doing the challenge. Lesson learned: If you are offered company to support you on the project, make sure you are prepared to take over it yourself again at any point. As for media, it is invaluable to have them on board, capturing your adventure in amazing perspectives and helping you to spread the word just make sure that they don't become involved in other aspects of your journey, such as equipment transport. Only if you have made a set agreement. Team 4. Have a team you can count on Before I started the journey I contacted all the canoe clubs along the Danube to look-out for support. It was great how many replied and offered their help for a day or two. I nearly had all the distance covered it gave me back-up for my luggage transport in case I had problems with pulling my equipment behind me.

What went wrong? 1. Don't underestimate how exhausting it can be to arrange and introduce new team-members on a daily or weekly basis. I thought it would be great to have different people for different stages on board, I simply made it too flexible, trying to hold everything together simply put me under pressure to arrive at certain points in a certain time. 2. I didn't know the people beforehand and for me it was a bonus to have someone on board. It turned out that some decided short-noticed to pull out, such as sending me an SMS at 11pm leaving me behind to sort out the next bit. It was a volunteering team not a set support team, there is a difference. 3. When people are involved that don't understand the adventure, it can be quiet irritating if they recommend you to stop and keep mentioning what is not working or bombard you with negative input. You know what you are doing, and you know that it can be tough you don't need someone put doubts in your head and actually recommending to stop.

It drains and most of all if you are exposed to hardship you are more sensitive and even may think about it. Lesson learned: I have learned that there is a difference with having extra people on board or having a good support team that stays with you. If you are in a medium you cannot escape, such as cold water and have dependence on aspects like luggage transport you need a set team to support you with and things you can delegate to, so you can keep the focus on the challenge. Next time I am out with a bunch of people that are going to support me and I have not really spent a lot of time with them beforehand, I will make the agreement that there is no room for negative advice, such as giving up. It's always your own choice. 

This adventure has been a great learning curve, I combined three different things without having tested them individually and thought that a preparation time of 30 days similar to Mission Spain would do. I had to realize that adventures have a different dynamic, different dependence and different requirements, so it is good to keep this in mind when preparing the next one.

If you have more specific questions, ideas or like to give your feedback just comment below or visit me on my site: www.nadinehorn.com

Written by Nadine Horn

Black C90: A Rather Unusual Moped Odyssey

Is this challenging enough for you? mocked Marley, his blue eyes clashing with the purple hue of his frozen skin. All around us the Kuban steppe was bent sideways in the tempest, the wind flattening everything in its haste to reach the Sea, whilst above, surging banks of black cloud prepared to unleash yet another biblical torrent upon us. We could have been fanning ourselves under Goan palms, or sipping Mojitos in Mombassa, but instead we were battling our way around the Black Sea on a pair of ageing mopeds, cold, wet and decidedly miserable. Everything had looked rather different in glorious August sunshine when Id first encountered the Black Sea four years previously.

Beguiled by its complex and fascinating history, its beautiful beaches and its glorious lack of pallid-skinned British tourists, Id vowed to one day return and travel its 3000-mile circumference. When a happy clash of circumstances made this possible last year Marley, my boyfriend, needed little convincing. As for a mode of transport, what could be more perfect than a pair of Honda C90s, of which we were already the proud owners? Marley was still a Learner and there was a certain comedy value in the fact that Ken, my bike, sported a zebra paint-job whilst Zulu, Marleys beast, was latitient in leopard livery. Idiot proof, light and indestructible, our 300 ebay purchases ticked every box in our Ideal Vehicles for Circumnavigating Oceans criteria. The plan was simple. From Bourgas, on Bulgarias Black Sea coast, we would speed southwards to Turkey, troll along the north Turkish coast, get a ferry from Trabzon to Sochi in Russia (thus avoiding the political minefield of Georgia and Abkhazia), tootle around the Crimea and romp through Romania back to the finishing line in Bulgaria.

On a sunny Saturday in September, we wobbled out of Bourgas in the general direction of Turkey. Despite months of procrastinating about the journey, it had never seemed quite real. But now, with the vast expanse of the Sea glittering beside us, the reality of the task ahead hit me like a brick wall. Oh my god I thought to myself, what on earth are we doing? We cant ride around the Black Sea on these mopeds, this whole thing is absurd. What the hell have we let ourselves in for? My barrage of nerves wasn't aided by the fact it was the first time Id ridden Ken with any extra weight and for the first few miles I lurched all over the place, feeling about as stable as Lindsay Lohan on crack. It wasn't the triumphant start I had hoped for. Our nerves were soon eroded, however, by the elation of being on the open road. Our first night was spent camped under a pendulous harvest moon in a wild corner of Bulgarias Standja National park, our only companions the bikes and the waves below. And the next day we rode to the Turkish border through enchanted oak forests, the road a tunnel of dappled light, the trees a kaleidoscope of colours.

Marleys bike sliced sliced through the autumn light in front of me, fallen leaves eddying in his wake. This was what it was all about, I thought, riding through a little known corner of Europe on a perfect autumn day, thousands of miles from anyone we knew. Yesterdays nerves seemed a distant memory. Things took a temporary turn for the worse when tackling the pan-continental superhighway across Istanbuls Bosphorus. An altercation between us and the curmudgeon at the toll gate ended with us fleeing into Asia, a cacophony of alarms signalling our arrival on the new continent. As we fled, we were buffeted by cross-winds and cut up by vast lorries and kamikaze taxis. It felt like we were flies stuck in a monstrous web, escape from which was by no means certain. By the time we got to the other side we were wide-eyed and shaking. Maybe we should get a ferry to Russia now? I only half-joked to Marley. Our day wasnt improved by being chased by vicious packs of wild dogs in the woods beyond Istanbul. But the wondrous thing about a trip like this is the constant flux of your emotions, and soon the bounteous beauty of the Turkish coast had thrust us back into the upper echelons of elation. Such is the joy of seeing the world on two wheels. Getting to Trabzon, in Turkeys far east, took longer than we had anticipated.

Progress was slow and we were only averaging around 17 mp/h. The Black Sea coastal highway, as its name suggests, clung to the shores of the Sea, at times wildly beautiful, at other times a crippling morass of construction. From Amasra to Sinop we plunged and weaved along 200 miles of breathtaking coastline, every corner opening up a new vista of capes cascading into the Sea. No traffic, no tourists, just the buzz of our engines. Our days were punctuated by stops at Turkeys ubiquitous tea shops, where crowds of men interrupted their clattering games of backgammon to ask us where we were going and how many miles a gallon the bikes did (an astonishing 223 we have since worked out). In one of these the owner, Mustafa, an ardent Ataturk devotee, not only refused payment for the buckets of tea we consumed but lovingly cleaned our bikes and grimy visors. Such kindness was typical of people throughout Turkeys Black Sea coast. After eight days on the road and 1000 miles covered, we finally made it to Trabzon, where a whopping $370 each bought us our passage to Russia.

Our fellow passengers on the 150-mile crossing were a motley assemblage of Turks, Russians, Kazakhs, Georgians and Uzbeks; the latter of whom were returning from the Hajj on a trio of matching purple bicycles. As they prayed to Mecca we drank illicit gin and tonics with four Russian bikrs, whose Yamaha FJR1300s made our ageing mopeds look all the more risible. Hours later, the sensation of the ferry lurching drunkenly on the waves interrupted a fitful slumber. Wed hit one of the Black Seas notorious off-coast squalls and the little ship was plunging and listing at the mercy of the tempest. The only human movement was people staggering to the loos to vomit the stench soon permeated the ferry. Thankfully, by dawn, the squall was behind us and through the mist we could see the Caucasus rising majestically to our right. After a single, cyclonic day of riding across Russias Kuban steppe we crossed the Kerch straits into Ukraines Crimea, the former jewel of the Soviet empire. At Feodosiya, the ancient port of Kaffa, we explored the ruins of the old sea gate, the very place the Black Death had crawled into Europe in 1347. It was extraordinary to think this unmarked spot had played such a devastating role in history.

Similarly, at Livadia Palace, we looked upon the table Churchill, Stalin and Roosevelt had signed the Yalta Treaty at in 1945, thus carving up post-war Europe. There was so much more to see in Crimea, but our mistress time was cajoling us on, and we had to press on. Our final leg took us through the grandiose city of Odessa and the idyllic Danube Delta; place names such as Tartarbunary (meaning Well of the Tartars) and Babadag (Turkish for Father mountain) reminders of the millennia of settlement and invasions that have befallen these shores. A legacy of this complexity seemed to exist at the tripartite border between Ukraine, Moldova and Romania, where for the first time in my life I spent several hours with no idea which country I was in. It was only when we finally got out of this customs Rubiks cube and noticed an absence of Ladas that I knew for sure we were in Romania. As we reached Galati that night wed clocked 209 miles that day, our record of the trip. We spent our last night on the road at the Romanian resort of Vama Veche. My somewhat out of date 1998 guide book alluringly described it as the idyllic haunt of poets and thinkers. But sadly things had changed in the intervening 12 years and it was now a blitzkrieg of concrete and hotels, which looked even grimmer in the persistent rain.

Despite this, it was a milestone on our moped safari and we set off from the rainswept beach on our final morning with wildly mixed emotions. We were tired and had both had some uncomfortably near misses, but the prospect of finishing the adventure and returning to normality sat heavily upon us. Finally, after a what seemed like an eternity of endurance, we drove into Bourgas. 21 days, 2600 miles, 6 countries and two continents later, our circumnavigation was complete. There was only one thing left to do, and that was run victoriously into the freezing waters of the Black Sea. To read more of Ants' adventures please see www.theitinerant.co.uk and follow her on @AntsBK"

Unsupported Ski to the South Pole 2012

Unsupported 950km Ski to the South Pole via the Messner Route From Nov 12 - Jan 13, I will be attempting to ski unsupported to the South Pole.

I will be following Reinhold Messner's route of 1989. Acommitting, 580 mile (934 km) ski traverse through remote, unexplored terrain, from the Ronne Ice Shelf on the edge of the frozen Antarctic continent to the Geographic South Pole. I previously spent 6 months in Antarctica in 2000-1 whilst serving with the British icebreaker HMS Endurance when I was in the Royal Marines. It was great fun supporting the British Antarctic Survey's operations and also doing the safety diving under the ice with the BBC for a documentary on Adelie Penguins. I also led a small ski expedition to retrace Shackleton's famous route across the Antarctic island of South Georgia, one of the worlds most beautiful and remote islands. I have been keen to get back down to the Antarctic since then and knock off a remaining childhood ambition to ski to the Pole.

This ambition is about to become an exciting reality and experience. As part of the expedition I am also attempting to raise 100,000 pounds for the international children's charity Warchild (www.warchild.org.uk). If anyone sponsors me over 2,000 pounds I will take a (small and light) momento of yours in my sled to the Pole, and assuming I get there, will take a photo of it at the South Pole.

Please donate here:www.justgiving.com/skisouthpole2012 You can follow the ups and downs of my epic on Facebook www.facebook.com/toby.selmanand on twitter twitter.com/tobyselman.