Dispatches: It's Déjà vu all over again - Monday, 1st March 2004
No flight, no change, no news. We were expecting to fly (finally!) at ten this morning. I set my alarm, woke up bleary-eyed at seven and dressed in full expedition gear. It was suspiciously quiet, and with a familiar sinking feeling I walked the few hundred metres through the morning chill to the Cerpolex base to find out what was (or wasn't) going on.
Christian (usually placidity embodied) was wringing his hands and a heated telephone discussion was being conducted in Russian behind him. The reason this time was 'the weather' but it seems there may be more to it than that...
Polar logistics in Russia have always involved delays, stress, seemingly endless and senseless bureaucracy, hair-raising flights in elderly ex-military helicopters and a liberal dose of vodka, but it seems that this year is even more problematic. We don't have much more to go on, but when I told a reporter in London that 'failing early on in the expedition' was my biggest fear, I realise I was wrong. To go home without breathing the harsh, crisp sea air and feeling the crunch and squeak of the Arctic pack ice beneath my skis now that's frightening.
With every day that we are stuck here, the odds against me successfully completing the entire crossing increase, but it's certainly not a hopeless situation. All I want is a chance to get out there and get on with it. For my skiing to decide the outcome, not a meeting in Moscow. Watch this space.
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