I hit the ground hard. It was one of those falls that comes from nowhere and takes you a moment to compute.
I’ve been skiing for decades and I’m no stranger to the occasional wipeout on the pistes. But this one was a different kettle of fish entirely: I was travelling on a near-flat ice sheet, the gradient no more than a beginner slope, and rather than being clipped into the familiarity of a pair of downhill skis, I was attached – by only my toes – to a pair of expedition models. Trailing behind me was a pulk sled carrying supplies and equipment.
After a moment of self-reassurance (“you’re fine, nothing broken, just bruised”), I picked myself up and laughed my way back to the group who were gathered ahead waiting for me.
Moments like these had become frequent over the past two days, and it was now a running joke that the person with the most downhill ski experience was the one struggling most to stay upright.
Laughter, it had quickly become apparent, was going to be an essential component if we intended to make it through our time in the Norwegian mountains, learning what it takes to train for a polar expedition on a trip put together by adventure apparel and expedition outfit Shackleton.
Despite the light mood, it had already been a gruelling experience.
Lucy’s polar expedition was ‘gruelling’, but a lightness of mood endured – Amelia Steele
The previous night I had set up camp on a frozen lake, dug a “pit of despair” (more on this later), cooked a meal consisting of dehydrated supplies and melted snow, and slept in a tent of three in the same clothes I’d spent the day skiing in. Some might argue it all sounds mightily uncomfortable.
I had been spurred on by the words of Britain’s heroic Antarctic explorer, Sir Ernest Shackleton, who – reflecting on how, in the face of extreme conditions, the bare essentials are often enough to make one smile – said: “The trappings of civilisation are soon cast aside in the face of stern realities, and given the barest opportunity of winning food and shelter, man can live and even find his laughter ringing true.”
Lucy (left) with Amelia Rudd in their tent at the pit of despair – Amelia Steele
It’s been more than 100 years since Shackleton’s last expedition towards the South Pole, yet it would appear many of us still find comfort in the uncomfortable – going so far as to actively seek it out on our holidays. According to a report by insurance provider Abta, the adventure travel market is one of the fastest growing in the industry, with 13 per cent of Britons now choosing to eschew a beach or cobbled old town in favour of an adventurous break. And it’s not just young travellers opting for more challenging holidays – the number of adventure trips booked by those aged between 45 and 54 has doubled in the past year.
This is partly because it’s now easier to do. Once upon a time, these sorts of excursions might have required an expensive long-haul journey to the ends of the Earth – but now, there are polar training options far closer to home. Shackleton, for example, runs trips based in Finse, on Lake Finsevatnet (1,222m) in the wilds of central Norway – a remote outpost once used by the explorer himself for pre-expedition preparation.
It’s a solid stand-in for real polar conditions, yet it had taken me barely an afternoon to reach – a two-hour flight from London to Bergen, then a a two-and-a-half-hour train ride to a remote platform – the highest on the Bergen line – where unsurprisingly very few passengers disembarked.
“We’re seeing more and more that people want a meaningful experience, rather than just lying on the beach, or ticking off the same tourist sites as everyone else,” said Amelia Rudd, who leads Shackleton’s portfolio of challenges alongside her husband, the explorer Louis Rudd MBE.
The team learnt how to erect the tent from Louis Rudd, a former Royal Marine commando and SAS soldier – Amelia Steele
The team leaned in to Louis expertise – he is the first and only person to have traversed Antarctica twice using only human power – Amelia Steele
They are abundantly qualified for the task. Louis, a former Royal Marine commando and SAS soldier, is the first and only person to have traversed Antarctica twice using only human power. Amelia, meanwhile, became the seventh woman in history to travel solo and unsupported to the geographic South Pole in 2020, and was expedition manager on her husband’s record-breaking 2018 expedition. A formidable pair.
“I think when people are challenged – either mentally or physically, or both – it reveals fundamental truths,” she told me when we met in Finse. “We strive to put people in that exact space, which is difficult but achievable.” Challenge accepted, I thought to myself.
I’ve long been a fan of what is often termed “Type-II fun” – activities that might not seem enjoyable in the moment, but provide huge reward in hindsight. I was keen to see how far I could push the limit.
As the Shackleton course is designed to be suitable for complete novices, my adventure had begun in a makeshift classroom next to the hotel in Finse. Here, we were introduced to our kit in meticulous detail. We learnt how to operate a stove to boil snow, the best technique for packing our pulks, and how to lay out and roll our sleeping systems (an inflatable mat and sleeping bag).
We also try on Shackleton’s range of expedition-level kit, designed with input from the Rudds, to allow for specialist touches, such as pockets for thermal padding to prevent polar thigh, zips to allow for hassle-free toilet breaks, and hoods snug enough to keep out the elements.
The group were taught how to lay out and roll their sleeping systems, which consisted of an inflatable mat and a sleeping bag – Amelia Steele
Lucy slept in a tent with two other people in the same clothes she had spent the day skiing in – Amelia Steele
“Looking out of the window of the hotel at the conditions outside, some people are surprised that we can thrive – and have fun – in that environment,” said Amelia. “It’s isolated, dangerous and inhospitable. But it’s precisely that remote beauty that keeps me coming back.”
Once classroom time was over, it was onto the ice. At first, expedition skis look unintimidating – thin planks, with small bindings and half-skins, designed to enable you to both propel forwards with grip, and ski downhill without having to remove them. The one thing they lack – immediately apparent to any seasoned skier – are edges, essential for controlling speed or turning on the downhill. Herein lay my (literal) downfall: any time we approached a dip in our course, my heart froze with trepidation.
The target of our first day was a spot beyond the frozen lake and below the Hardangerjøkulen glacier. We reached it just as the light started to fade, our bodies flagging, eager for rest and food – but the day’s lessons were far from over. Before we could eat, we had to erect our tents without them blowing away. Louis demonstrated, then we followed suit, hurrying to secure guide ropes and digging our room for the night securely into the snow.
Lucy Aspden-Kean: Here I was, the only person in sight, in a vast white wilderness that glowed in the morning light – Amelia Steele
Then it was time to create the “pit of despair” – a grave-sized hole dug into the interior of the tent, at the foot of the sleeping chamber. Its purpose? Waste disposal for everything from unwanted food and toothpaste to bodily fluids. I was grateful to require its services for only a single night. I could only imagine the despair that might unfold on longer camping trips.
The next day dawned bright and clear, and – awake before my companions – I scrambled out of the tent to take in the scene. “The mix of expedition experiences with a real sense of place is something our clients tell us they love,” Amelia had told me. And here I was, the only person in sight, in a vast white wilderness that glowed in the morning light.
I might have spent the past 24 hours learning how to avoid blisters, adjusting my harness to encourage my pulk to pull more smoothly, and attempting to change my socks in a sleeping bag, but any bodily discomfort was immediately dwarfed by the wonder of the surroundings and the magnitude of what we were accomplishing.
Loaded pulk sleds waiting for departure onto the expedition – Amelia Steele
After a breakfast of dehydrated cookie mix and warm juice, we spent the day under a cerulean sky, taking turns to lead the pack in 30-minute intervals as we traversed a 20km (12.5 mile) route. After seven hours, legs burning, my conviction began to waver – and then, all of a sudden, there was Finse visible in the distance. Buoyed and with only a few kilometres to go I surged on, confident and determined in my stride, with the end of my journey in sight.
And then down I went, hard onto the ice. The brand’s motto – “live courageously” – ringing in my head, alongside Shackleton’s famous call to arms – “onwards!” – I picked myself up and onwards I went, still smiling.
It had only been a short expedition but I was already planning my next – it turns out there’s no turning back once you’ve had a taste of real adventure. And that’s the simple truth more of us than ever before are eager to discover.
Essentials
Lucy Aspden-Kean was a guest of Shackleton, which offers a five-day Polar Skills course in Finse, Norway, from £7,250pp, including expedition preparation programme, equipment and clothing, accommodation, food and drink, and all in-country travel. Excludes international flights and insurance. Dates available throughout March, April and May 2026.
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