Journey to the North Pole Marathon

Howard C

"I understand that the North Pole, and Arctic Ice Pack, is over 2,000 km across and will be desolate of many western standard rescue facilities. I understand that I will be lodging on an active ice floe that is 6 to 12 feet thick on top of the Arctic Ocean, and that sudden cracks (leads), pressure ridges, and ocean currents can expose the ocean at any time; that temperatures in April can be below –40 degrees Celsius, with wind chills to – 100 degrees Celsius; that bad weather and aircraft malfunction could strand the expedition for many days; that prolonged exposure to the polar environment can cause loss of fingers, toes, and body parts due to frostbite, or loss of life due to many causes including hypothermia, dehydration or even drowning or polar bear attacks…” (From the liability waiver for the North Pole Marathon - npmarathon.com)

This year was the 12th annual North Pole Marathon. There were 48 race participants. On April 7, 2014, we met for a prerace briefing in the Norwegian town of Longyearbyen, which is about 830 miles from the North Pole. It is pretty much the northernmost outpost of civilization in the world. Here, in the comfort of a conference room at a Radisson Blu hotel, we learned about the incredible logistics that are involved in setting up the North Pole camp and marathon course.

Each year in late March/early April, a private, Russian camp (Camp Barneo) is set up on the Arctic ice near the North Pole. This time of year is specifically selected because it is during the sunlit and “warmer” season, but the sea ice is still thick and stable enough to safely land a passenger plane. Camp has to be set up from scratch every year because it is not possible to build a permanent camp on floating and moving chunks of ice in the Arctic Ocean. First, a helicopter flies from northern Russia to scout a suitable area to set up camp and build an airstrip. 

The helicopter only has enough fuel for a one way trip, so the crew lands and waits for a cargo plane to parachute down more crew and supplies, including a bulldozer/snow plow for preparing the airstrip. Technical (test) landings on the airstrip are then made with the passenger plane that will eventually ferry in the tourists. Once the test landings are successful, the camp is open for business. North Pole Marathon runners apparently make up the largest contingent of visitors. There are other tourists, however, who come in for trips such as ski treks, dog sledding treks and helicopter trips to the geographic North Pole. Over the years, we learned, there have been some interesting visitors to camp. For example, British broadcaster Sir David Attenborough is frequently there. Prince Harry was recently there with his security detail. And a few years ago, an American adult film entertainer apparently decided to have her wedding at the North Pole.

Dog Sledding on the Arctic Tundra near Longyearbyen

We were next warned abundantly about the dangers of exposure to the extremely cold conditions. Exposed skin freezes in a very short time in the polar regions. There was a story about a participant on the 2013 North Pole Marathon trip who had decided to strip down for a souvenir picture in camp just prior to the race. He stood on the Arctic ice for maybe a minute or so for his picture, but quickly developed severe pain and blistering on the bottom of his bare feet. He was unable to participate at all in the 2013 North Pole Marathon and, in fact, spent most of the next several weeks in a wheelchair before he ultimately made his recovery. Someone joked that he was lucky he hadn’t slipped and fallen forward onto the ice, and we had a good (somewhat nervous) laugh.

April 8, 2014

The next afternoon, after a few delays, we flew out of Longyearbyen airport for Camp Barneo. The flight took about 2.5 hours. Contrary to expectations, the landing on the Arctic ice airstrip was about as soft and smooth as any in a normal airport. When we got off the plane, the difference in the cold compared to Longyearbyen (not exactly a warm place either) was pronounced. The temperature at camp was about -30 degrees C (-22 degrees F), not including wind chill. For reference, a typical food freezer is kept at -18 degrees C (0 degrees F). Going into a food freezer at that point would have felt toasty…

We had another briefing in the communal dining tent about camp rules. There were warnings about polar bears, which were a serious danger. Camouflaged by the icy terrain, they can quietly sneak up on you. You cannot outrun them. And they were definitely around. A few days prior to our arrival, a polar bear with cubs had approached the camp and had to be scared off with flares. The word “Arctic,” we learned, is derived from the Greek word Arktos, which is “bear.” (On the other hand, Antarctica, which has no bears, literally means “no bears.”)

Inside the Tent Before the Start of the Race

 (photo courtesy of D. Andrade)

After this briefing, we were split into groups to take helicopter rides from camp to the actual geographic North Pole. At the time, Camp Barneo was floating at about 89.2 degrees north, which was about 85 km from the actual geographic North Pole. We flew over an astonishing “landscape” of pure white, mostly flat, frozen sea ice, stretching to the horizon in all directions. Here and there I could see a rift in the ice that looked like a stream, but was, in actuality, exposed Arctic Ocean, thousands of feet deep. As we were about to land at the North Pole, I was completely astonished to see tents already there, with people waving at our helicopter. This had to be the most extreme camping I had ever witnessed with my own eyes. We learned that these folks were people who were skiing “the last degree,” i.e., from 89 degrees N to the North Pole (90 degrees N). After arriving in Camp Barneo, they had been flown by helicopter to the 89th parallel. Over the course of about three days, guided by GPS, they cross country skied the last degree. They carried all their supplies, including food and tents, on sleds that they dragged. They had been camping out at the North Pole waiting for our helicopter to take them back to camp. Apparently, for some cross country skiers, skiing the last degree is a bucket list type of trip.

Camp Barneo
(photo courtesy of Camp Barneo)

After we got off the helicopter, we still had to chase the precise geographic North Pole on foot for another few minutes by GPS. There is no permanent marking for the North Pole because the North Pole exists over floating and moving pieces of Arctic sea ice. When the GPS finally registered 90'00'00.0" N, we planted a red striped pole. Everyone took the requisite photo shots. Some decided to “run around the world” by making a circle around the North Pole. One of the guys who did so stated that you had to run about 100 meters away from the Pole in order for the GPS to click through each of the time zones.

April 9, 2014

When we returned to camp, it was sometime in the early morning hours, Norwegian time, of the “next day.” The race director, accompanied by a polar bear guard, was still out marking the course. It would have been prudent to rest and sleep, but it was not easy to do so. At this time of year, there is 24 hour daylight at the North Pole. The sun just makes a circle around the horizon and does not set. We were going by Norwegian time, but this was arbitrary. My personal body clock was still mostly on Eastern Standard Time. I walked around camp and chatted with staff and other marathon participants. I knew a number of them from my 2012 Antarctic Ice Marathon trip (also organized by the same group, Polar Running Adventures). Everyone was still totally buzzed from the fact that we were at the North Pole. I visited the souvenir shop (a folding table set up in the back of the communal tent) and bought a few t-shirts that said “North Pole” on them. Euros and U.S. dollars were the preferred currencies, but other currencies were accepted as well (at a steep premium). There was a bar (the world’s northernmost bar), selling beer and spirits, including the old Russian standby, Stolichnaya.

World's Northernmost Bar

Sitting around with the staff, I heard some pretty crazy stories about prior North Pole Marathons. One year, two Australians who were soccer enthusiasts had finished the North Pole Marathon and had become a bit intoxicated. When they got to the geographic North Pole after the race, they stripped down to their underwear and boots and kicked around a soccer ball, still in an inebriated state. The next day, as they were saying their good byes, now sobered up, they approached the race director to thank him for the awesome trip and really life changing experience, etc. But they expressed a small regret that they had not been able to make it to the actual North Pole. The race director was puzzled. Someone showed them pictures of the pair in their underwear and boots kicking around a soccer ball at the North Pole. The Aussies were incredulous. They said something to the effect of “Crikies, mate! That's us! …but, where did we get a soccer ball from, we didn’t bring one!!” A mystery, apparently, that has never been solved.

After a few hours of shut eye, it was finally time for the race. The excitement was palpable. The course was 12 laps of a loop of about 3.5 kilometers (2.19 miles) around Camp Barneo. (So, no, the North Pole Marathon did not occur at the actual geographic North Pole, but at the camp, about 85 km away.) There was a medical check after each lap by the medical staff. You could also go into your tent after each lap to warm up, drink/eat, and swap into dry/warm clothes as needed. One of the paradoxical dangers of this run was actually overheating. The problem with overheating is that it can lead to excessive sweating, which in turn can completely freeze your clothes.

To start, I wore multiple layers on my head, neck and face, including ski goggles. I had four thin to medium torso layers (plus a Flyers race singlet) and two layers for the legs. I wore two layers of gloves: thin liner gloves and large weatherproof winter mitten shells. I wore three layers of socks: short compression race socks, thin liner socks, and wool winter hiking socks. For shoes, I wore a pair of standard trail runners (Skechers GoTrails) that were a half size larger than my normal size. I had tested this outfit on multiple occasions during the cold winter we had experienced in the Northeast, as well as in Longyearbyen.

At The Start
(photo courtesy of Mike King, North Pole Marathon)

My overall race strategy was simple. Go slowly, enjoy the scenery, and spend lots of time between laps in the tent to do everything I needed to do in order to survive the next lap intact. Time was not an issue, as there was no real time limit. I absolutely did not want to DNF this race and face the difficult decision of returning or not.

Racing!
(photo courtesy of Mike King)

Once the race started, a few runners could be seen taking off, while the bulk of the runners took it really easy. The footing was soft, but very energy sapping. I would judge it to be roughly equivalent, energy-wise, to running in deep sand or mud. Having trained mostly on treadmills during the cold and icy winter in the Northeast, my leg muscles strained on the uneven course. It was not exactly easy to move in the direction you wanted to either. During the course of the race, I did see a few people fall. I had a couple of near falls myself. Taking a very cautious pace on the first lap, I was in the back of the pack. Michael Wardian, the famous marathoner and ultrarunner (and favorite to win the race), lapped us stragglers on our first lap.  

The main problem for me, however, was visibility. Condensation made it difficult to impossible to wear my ski googles or even my glasses. Strategies to manage condensation that had worked well back home and in Longyearbyen at -15 to -20 degrees C (+5 to -4 degrees F) did not work at -30 degrees C (-22 degrees F) in the North Pole.  After two laps, I gave up wearing glasses altogether. With my -7.0 diopter visual acuity (= nearly as blind as a bat), I had to bend over at the waist for the rest of the race (ten more laps), in order to see the ground well enough not to fall. My back ached all day.

Mid-Race
(photo courtesy of Mike King)

Because I could no longer wear my goggles, there was a small part of my upper face around the eyes that was uncovered. Figuring out how to keep this little area warm took a couple of laps to perfect. Ultimately, I realized that I could shape my balaclava in a way that when I exhaled, the warm air would bounce off the balaclava and blow onto the exposed area to keep it warm. (The balaclava would actually freeze completely solid within minutes of starting each lap.) Unfortunately, the extra water vapor from my breath expedited the formation of ice crystals on my eyelashes. Thus, every few minutes or so, it was necessary to unglove a hand and melt/wipe the crystals off the eyelashes or they would literally freeze the eyelids shut. After a couple of laps, however, I figured out a system that worked and it was manageable.

Keeping Going
(photo courtesy of Mike King)

Between each lap, I spent about 10 minutes in the tent to warm up, eat, drink and swap out my wet/cold/frozen items. The tent was about 55 degrees F, which felt like a sauna. My initial four layer torso outfit lasted six laps before it was so frozen that it would not thaw out between laps. I swapped my base and mid layers, and decided to don my semi-bulky insulated jacket. Some other runners, I could see, were swapping to heavy, insulated polar coats. Some were even abandoning trail sneakers and putting on their polar boots, apparently giving up on running. They were going to walk the rest of the course.

Finally, after 12 laps, the race was over. After 9 hours and 19 minutes plus of slipping, sliding, jogging, walking, and changing clothes, I was elated and relieved to have finished. I joined the others in celebration and watched the rest of the participants come in.

Triumphant
(photo courtesy of Mike King)

Michael Wardian had won the race handily, with a time of 4:07+. He described it as the hardest marathon he had ever done (he has a 2:17 marathon PR). Second place overall was a German woman, Anne-Marie, at 4:52+. Third place was Luke, a British runner, at 5:03+, a guy who was my tent mate at the North Pole. Luke told me that he had been running fairly well until about the 10th lap, with only Michael Wardian ahead of him. Around that time, however, he was getting pretty tired and started to slow down just a bit. He could feel the runner behind him, on the other hand, getting stronger and stronger.  At lap 11, she (Anne-Marie) went right by him, leaving him in the dust. 

Luke is a strong runner (with a 2:40 marathon PR), but he had no answer at that point in the race. Anne-Marie was the only person I spoke with, who didn’t think that the race was particularly difficult. After she told me about her training and racing background, however, I could understand why. She lives in the Swiss Alps and runs in similar (or even worse) conditions regularly. She showed me some pictures of her training and racing in waist deep snow, plowing through it like a bulldozer.

Amongst the rest of us mere mortals, several runners had dropped from the full marathon to a half marathon. There was an option to quit after 6 laps (a half marathon) and get credit for a half marathon finish. However, if you decided to continue, but could not complete all 12 laps, you would not be listed as a half marathon (or marathon) finisher at all. This was apparently to discourage anyone of continuing beyond 6 laps if they were really unsure of themselves.

Only one person had to drop out completely. He was a very seasoned and accomplished ultrarunner who I had met at the Antarctic Ice Marathon in 2012. After 7 laps, he had become severely hypothermic, with his core temperature dropping to about 31 degrees C (88 degrees F). He had been shaking uncontrollably in the medical tent for a good half hour, despite close medical attention and treatment. He eventually warmed up and wanted to continue, but the doctors would not let him. He was obviously disappointed. He told me that part of the reason why he had become so hypothermic was that he had decided to keep wearing his prescription eyeglasses for the race. This required him to uncover his mouth (and lower face) so that the condensation from his exhaled breath would be diverted away from his glasses. I realized after his story that I had made the right decision to give up on trying to wear my eyeglasses.

One other runner had became quite hypothermic as well. After his fifth lap, he had to warm up in his cot in the tent for maybe a half hour or so before continuing. He finished one more lap and stopped, getting credit for a half-marathon finish. Several runners got frostnip. One of the guys who put on a heavy polar coat and polar boots for the last few laps became overheated and uncovered much of his head in order to cool off, but got some frostnip on his ears.

At The Geographic North Pole
(photo courtesy of Mike King)

For the most part, however, everyone else finished without any problems. As far as I know, no one got any frostbite from standing in their birthday suits for a souvenir picture. No one lost any body parts to a hungry polar bear. Everyone was exhausted, but ecstatic, and proudly wore their finisher’s medals. After a solid night of sleep at Camp Barneo, we all returned to Longyearbyen the next day. Longyearbyen, with its above-zero temperatures (about 4 to 5 degrees F), felt like a balmy subtropical paradise. We had an awards ceremony and some decent meals accompanied by some nice brews. Over the next couple of days, we each said our good byes. By the time I returned to New York on a late, warm, sunny afternoon on April 12, it felt like another world. It was weird not having to worry about base layers, insulating mid layers and shells. It was weird not having to cover every last square inch of skin while outside. It felt strange to feel sunlight that felt warm on the skin. It was amazing how over a period of just one week, the wintry, icy and frozen worlds of Longyearbyen and the Arctic Ocean/North Pole had become my new normal.

-Howard C