THE ICE
Aſt er that, long-distance swims became somewhat of a hobby, and over the next 15 years he pioneered swims around many of the world’s famous landmarks: in 1992 being the fi rst person to swim 25km across Lake Malawi and in 1994 the fi rst to swim around Cape Aghulas, the southernmost point of Africa. Despite his success in the swimming world, and in his “other life” in the City of London as a lawyer, by the late 1990s Pugh still felt there was something missing. “I’d always been fascinated by the Arctic, and dreamed of going there. Then one of my friends told me, ‘You have to go there and live your dream. Otherwise you’ll get to the end of your life and realise you’ve been living somebody else’s dream.’” Realising the truth in these words, Pugh packed up his London
life and leſt for Svalbard in northern Norway. He spent one winter (“Never again!”) and seven summers living in the far northern reaches of the world and realised two things: one, that it was incredibly beautiful, with many species of animal migrating there in the summer months, and two, that “the way of life there is threatened by climate change. 23% of the sea-ice cover disappeared in 2005. That’s a frightening statistic.” Seeing evidence of the melting polar ice caps at fi rst hand, he knew he needed to do something. He loved this land so it was his job to protect it. “The whole point is you shouldn’t be able to swim there. It should be ice,” Pugh explains as he strides the stage, giving a sense of coiled energy just below the surface. “I knew what I had to do.” You can understand why a man who was brought up with a keen sense of duty – the military father, the love of nature, the drive to conquer the swimming world – saw this as his calling. By this point, 2006, he had already conquered the Five Oceans, being the fi rst (and to date the only) person to achieve the so-called ‘Holy Grail’ of swimming a kilometre in the world’s major oceans – what was one more ocean? Assembling his team of “optimistic realists” from ten diff erent countries, including sports physician Tim Noakes, he plumbed his whole life-savings into organising the trip north and alerted the world’s
media that he was going to do the swim. Was there any point that he paused to worry about what he was going to do? “I phoned my mother and rather sheepishly told her I was going to swim in the arctic,” he says. “She paused for a very long moment and then said, ‘That’s not a normal thing to do, dear.” Training was as hard as one might expect, if not harder. Most of it took place at the University of Cape Town, under the tutelage of Tim Noakes who persuaded a local fi sh market to donate tons of ice so Pugh could test the “assumption” that swimming crawl in freezing water would trigger a heart at ack. Starting at 14 degrees C and descending by a degree every day, the water tested Pugh to his limits. “The diff erence between six and fi ve degrees is extraordinary – like the diff erence between climbing Kilimanjaro and climbing K2 in winter in Speedos. At 3
Gordon Lewis Pugh strokes his way through freezing Arctic waters during his astonishing 1km swim.
degrees all I could think about was Ranulph Fiennes’ fi ngers. At 2 I couldn’t feel my hands. By 1 degree Centigrade I just prayed the whole distance.” By June he was ready to make the journey, taking six days to get to the North Pole from Murmansk in northern Russia. “It took three days to reach the major icebergs. By day four no one was talking, everybody around me looked petrifi ed and I started to doubt what I was doing for the fi rst time.” Aſt er a test swim of 400m, aided by Jørgen Amundsen (great-
grandnephew of Roald Amundsen, who trekked to both poles), Pugh was having serious doubts. “The next morning I couldn’t feel my hands. I realised this swim was absolutely impossible,” he says in his mat er-of-fact manner. “I thought, ‘All the world’s media are here. How on earth am I going to do this?’ But aſt er some advice from an old friend, Pugh fi nally stepped out onto the ice and approached the water, wearing nothing but the Speedos and goggles, as per Channel swimming rules. At this point in his tale, Pugh turns to a screen behind him on the stage and starts a video of his swim, so we can see it fi rst hand. Incredibly, fi ve years aſt er the event, and with him standing in fi ne fet le in front of me, I fi nd I am still clenching my fi sts and holding my breath in concern for him.
As he drops into the dark water, a stat fl ashes up on the screen telling me that it’s 4,500m deep. He sets off , his stroke powerful, giving no sign of discomfort besides the bright pink colour of his skin as the air at acks it. Below the surface his body is the death- white of a corpse as he ploughs through the water. It seems an age. You can see the tension on the faces of the people in the support boat; their thick layers, hats, gloves, and goggles in contrast to his bare fl esh providing a reminder of the insanity of the undertaking. Then suddenly – aſt er 18 very cold minutes – they burst into a roar.
He’s done it! He’s pulled out of the water, dazed, and taken off in a towel mut ering, “How on earth did I do that?” ○
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