Bear Grylls (66 page)

Nige returned to Lunson Mitchenall, only to discover that on his first day back at work he was asked to attend a corporate boating day on the Solent – as if he had not had enough of the
water for a while.

True to form, Mick changed from his expedition gear into his business suit and leaped straight back into the zone of building the Tiscali empire. But the Atlantic had taken its toll. Three weeks
later, he phoned to say he was still feeling drained and exhausted. I was relieved to hear that someone else was also wiped out.

Charlie went back to Manchester and resumed his life as a television cameraman. Part of this work meant we were still together, and he was the cameraman on an adventure series in the Brecon
Beacons we were doing for Channel 4. Lying in a soaking ditch with me one night, up a mountain in Wales in sub-zero winter conditions, Charlie muttered that life had definitely got colder since we
met. I apologized, laughing.

As for the sixth member of our team, our faithful boat, we finished the corporate days on her and said our farewells. We are currently in the process of trying to find a sponsor for her that
will enable us to donate the boat to the sea-based charity the Meridian Trust. This trust offers disadvantaged kids the chance to experience the magic of the sea. I hope we manage to pull this off
and allow these young people to benefit from this extraordinary craft. She was our life in those storms and never failed once. I hope others will grow to love her as we did.

For me, the
experience of leadership had been much more demanding than I had ever imagined.

The bad part of me had hoped it would mean I would get more sleep, not less. I always assumed there would have to be some privileges for the leader of the expedition.

In practice, though, to lead properly, you end up being the last one to go to bed at night, and the first one to wake in the morning. There were times when Andy had to wake at 5 a.m. to change
the oil filters, so I would aim to get up with him to have a cup of tea together first. Then, in the afternoon, while Andy might be grabbing an hour of sleep, I would be with Mick checking the
weather forecasts on the Internet.

As somebody who in previous expeditions had always taken great pleasure in oversleeping, the responsibility of leadership was something that required me to give my all. That is a good thing: the
result was worth it. Every time.

But what
would
be next? This time the question wasn’t coming from some journalist; it was coming from within me.

Sometimes I sense that people live their own dreams through explorers. It is a form of escape from life, something safe upon which to quench their thirst for danger. But I am not sure I want to
be the sacrifice for these people’s urges any longer.

When asked ‘What next?’, the easy answer is to say K2, or the South Pole. It all rolls off the tongue so easily. But in many ways it is a coward’s answer.

Explorers, climbers and sailors are meant to be brave. But so often we aren’t brave enough to be honest.

Honest enough to say, ‘I am feeling a bit frightened of those things at the moment.’

Honest enough to say, ‘You’ve caught me at a very vulnerable time, and I am not sure I have an answer right now.’

I hope I am brave enough to say all this.

But I know for certain that life is so much more than always having to top something or better the last achievement.

That’s not the way I want to lead my life.

We all so often live in the shadow of people’s expectations. But as soon as we do that, we lose our power. The magic dies. I don’t want that. I hope to keep living as I have always
lived – by heart.

I hope always to be among the elements, to be in beautiful, isolated places, far from the big cities, places where life is simple and pure, places where I can feel God’s quiet presence
around me.

I want to keep connecting with people, whether in a small boat or on a mountain, in an audience or on the TV; even in a book. It is all about giving humanity. It’s about being brutally
straight with yourself, even to your own detriment. That is sometimes so hard to do.

I want people to know I am normal, with just as many doubts and weaknesses and struggles as anyone else, but if we can just hang on, we can come through – and maybe even find ourselves a
little stronger.

For us, though,
the truth is we got lucky on Everest, and we got lucky on the frozen North Atlantic; and you don’t have to be a mathematician to realize that you
can’t keep playing those sorts of odds and always win.

I only have to think of my late friend, Ginette Harrison, whom I first met while climbing in Nepal. We were together on the so-called unclimbable mountain, Ama Dablam, in the Himalayas. It was
the year before our attempt on Everest. Ginette was a kind, strong, beautiful woman, and probably the best female climber of her age. She was intelligent and cautious and, in my eyes, as a climber,
she was nothing less than invincible.

However, two years later, back in the Himalayas she was attempting to climb another great peak. Just one more. She was struck by an avalanche and killed. Just like that. Only a month earlier we
had been having lunch together in London.

The avalanche wasn’t her fault. She had done nothing wrong. Humans are strong, but nature is stronger. And if you play the odds long enough, it is true: you cannot always win.

But I am no longer prepared to die on some distant mountain or senseless sea. And if I have learned anything from these wild forces of nature, it is a quiet determination to stay alive.

Several months later,
the Royal Geographical Society hosted the crew of the Arnold and Son Transatlantic Arctic Expedition to give a presentation on our experiences. The
five of us gathered at the awe-inspiring, historic venue, on the south side of London’s Hyde Park, and we told our story.

At the end of the evening, I stood up to conclude. I noticed the side door open, and some light fill the room. It was Shara re-emerging into the hall, carrying Jesse in her arms. He was meant to
be in bed – it was 8.30 p.m., but she had arranged for him to be here.

On impulse, I stepped down from the stage and took him in my arms. We all then stood onstage together: the team and myself, with Jesse wrapped up in a little blanket. As he peeked out from under
his little hat at the sea of faces, I had never felt so proud.

Not long afterwards, Jesse was christened on our barge, just as I had always hoped he would be.

Nicky, the priest, stood on the upper deck, and his robes billowed in the autumn breeze that whistles down the Thames.

He reached for the little bottle of snow water that I had brought back from the summit of Everest some five years ago and had kept for this very occasion. He dabbed it on Jesse’s tiny
forehead. And right there, he christened our lovely son.

Right from the start, this had been the plan.

And the plan had worked. By Grace.

I hope Jesse’s grandfather, my late dad, felt proud.

If I go up to the Heavens, you are there;

if I go down to the place of the dead, you are there also.

If I ride the morning wind to the ends of the ocean,

even there your hand will guide,

your strength will support me . . .

I can never be lost to your Spirit.

Don’t be afraid to go on the odd wild goose chase, that’s what wild geese are for!

GLOSSARY

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Sponsors of www.arctic2003.com

Switzerland and London

The Charity

The Prince’s Trust strives to help fourteen- to thirty-year-olds develop confidence, learn new skills, get into work and start businesses. Their message, ‘Yes You
Can’, encourages young people to believe in themselves whatever obstacles they face.

Bear Grylls has been an ambassador for the Prince’s Trust since 2003 and is also now Chief Scout and
figurehead to 28 million Scouts worldwide, a post that encourages young people to learn adventure skills and enjoy the outdoors with good friends.

For further information on Bear Grylls, see:
www.beargrylls.com.

LIST OF PLATES

1. My late dad Mickey Grylls and me aged eight

2. My reason for coming home: Shara, my wife, with Jesse on the deck of our barge the day of his christening

3. The expedition’s patron, HRH Prince of Wales with (from left to right) Eric Loth (from The British Masters Arnold & Son, our lead
sponsors), Nigel Thompson, Mick Crosthwaite, Lt Andy Leivers, me and Jean-Marie Florent (also from our lead sponsors)

4.
Into the Unknown
by George Lewis. The oil painting was in aid of The Prince’s Trust.
(Courtesy of Octavian Art)

5. The
Arnold & Son Explorer,
looking a fraction of her beautiful self, being lowered into Canadian waters for the first time

6. HMS
Newcastle
in heavy seas. Andy getting a perspective on what lies ahead for us in an open boat

7. Leaving Halifax, Nova Scotia. The journey begins

8. Arriving at night in Glace Bay, Nova Scotia

9. Looking aft as we enter the sea-fog off Newfoundland, south of the Belle Isle Strait

10. The remote coastline of Newfoundland, and one of the many lighthouses