High Arctic and dry
For my first expedition to the Arctic in the late 1990s, I teamed up with an alleged cold-weather expert and a handful of other newbies. It soon became apparent that none of us knew what we were doing. We got everything wrong.
After losing our way one morning, we had to lug our sledges up a steep hill to get back on track. There was a fair bit of machismo going around, and we wanted to get back en route as quickly as possible.
It was a little chilly (about –20°C) and we did everything too quickly.
After harnessing ourselves to one sled and towing it to the top, we ran down to retrieve the remaining pulks. At no time did any of us stop to strip off a few layers of clothing.
By the time we got all four sleds to the top an hour later, we were sweating like turkeys in November, and dangerously close to hypothermia. At least we had the good sense to get the tents up and the stoves on. The absence of any knowledge about moisture management cost us the rest of the day. The price we paid could easily have been a lot higher.
Fabric choice
Moisture management can be split into three main categories: footwear, tent drills and personal clothing. Let’s look at clothing first.
Waterproof/breathable membranes and coatings are pretty much useless in the Arctic. Uncoated wind-resistant fabrics such as Pertex work far better, although it doesn’t need to be all that windproof. On a multi-month expedition, durability becomes increasingly important. When I joined a Trans-Arctic Ocean expedition a few years ago, the texturised fabric we used for our shell clothing was a little heavier than modern mountaineering materials. It also took a bit longer to dry than lightweight fabrics when soaked. However, it was strong enough to survive the very high level of punishment that we dished out on a daily basis. It was also impressively breathable, which is the most important feature for any fabric being worn in the Arctic environment.
My outer layers consist of a separate top and bottoms, as I find this to be more flexible than a one-piece suit. I also avoid shell clothing that boasts several zips, as these are the first things to go wrong in sub-zero conditions. My shell jacket has a full-length zip simply because it makes it easy to put on and take off. Interestingly, many of the Inuit with whom I’ve spent time still prefer to wear traditional ‘pull on, pull off’ clothing that’s devoid of zips, rather than modern polar attire.
Under the shell clothing, I wear one or two lightweight fleece garments. I only use Patagonia Regulator fabric as it dries quickly, packs down small and is amazingly breathable. Windproof and close-knit fleeces simply aren’t versatile enough; they prevent sweat vapour from escaping quickly.
I wear a very thin synthetic base layer against the skin. My underpants are made from the same fast-wicking material. Crucially, these are made with flat seams and have the advantage of a strategically placed windproof patch at the front.
I keep a lightweight synthetic fibre-filled jacket to hand and pull that on when my fleece clothing isn’t enough. An expedition down jacket with a superlight windproof outer lives in my pulk for rest stops and camp chores. Both of these garments have hoods that can be flicked on and off as needed.
In my experience, legs don’t need as much insulation as the rest of the body. The thigh muscles do most of the work and create the most heat. But I do carry a pair of synthetic fibre-filled pants to wear in the evening.
My lightweight hat is a windproof cycling skull cap that covers my ears.
I also carry two woollen hats for extra versatility. I try to keep one dry so I can wear it in the tent at night. I carry a neoprene facemask as an insurance policy but have never needed to use it.
Eyes and extremities
Goggles invariably mist up, and I only wear them on windy days. Although I don’t wear spectacles, I buy goggles that are designed to be worn with glasses as they sit further away from the face and help to minimise condensation. I also rip out the foam inserts from the top vents to improve air circulation.
My sunglasses have interchangeable lenses: orange for when it’s overcast to increase the contrast, and dark on sunny days. They are flexible to prevent cracking.
As a photographer, protecting my hands while still being able to do my job is a perennial problem. I think I’ve tried every available combination. At one stage, I field-tested 24 different pairs of gloves. And the answer is: Black Diamond Mountain Guide gloves.
The Mountain Guide mittens are also fantastic, although these seem to have been recently dropped from the range.
The only other alternative I use is a huge pair of felt and leather skidoo mittens on a static leash made from climbing tape. The leash is essential as, by the time you’ve finished taking photographs while wearing a pair of super-thin base-layer gloves, your hands are so cold that all the blood has been forced out of them. The only thing you’re then able to do is push the hands into the mittens. An Inuit elder once told me to stash a tiny ball of musk ox hair into each mitten to help keep my fingertips warm; not surprisingly, it works a treat.
I learnt about footwear the hard way. On a training trip at –48°C, I wore new boots that were inadequately insulated and fluffy socks that cramped my feet. Bad move. My feet were so constricted that an adequate amount of blood flow to my pinkies couldn’t be maintained. To compound the problems, my toes defrosted that evening in the tent and then refroze the next morning: the worst thing you can do to frostbitten feet. My toes turned purple then black and I was very fortunate not to lose any of them.
I now arm myself with two types of footwear and choose the most appropriate boot for the prevailing conditions. Early on in the season, I wear the warmest pair of Baffin Boots that I can lay my hands on. Later on, when conditions improve, I wear a lighter pair of boots with a little less insulation.
Getting some kip
The trick to a warm, dry night’s sleep is to finish cooking before getting the sleeping bags out of your pulk. This makes for a miserable succession of cold evenings, but your sleeping system stays dry and you’ll sleep warmer for the duration of the expedition.
Everyone has their own sleeping bag preference. I use a vapour barrier to stop sweat passing into the insulation. Next up is a lightweight down or synthetic bag rated for summer conditions. This goes inside an expedition-rated synthetic bag, which, in turn, goes into a second, impermeable, bag. This final layer repels any frozen condensation that builds up on the inside of the tent during the night and inevitably lands on you in the morning. Between cooking and sleeping, I evacuate the tent and open up all the doors to allow any residual moisture and carbon monoxide to escape.
Ideally, sleep with your head outside your sleeping bag. This means that expired breath condenses on the tent rather than inside the bag.
If you’re thinking that camping in the Arctic is a deeply unpleasant experience, you’re right. However, when you’re travelling with dogs – or if you have frequent resupplies – you’ll be able to dedicate one stove to heating the tent. Then your nightmare will become a dream. Drying clothes is suddenly possible, and waiting hours for the other stoves to turn ice into water for drinks and food becomes bearable. Using a stove in a tent is, of course, extremely dangerous. But this is the Arctic, a place where many of the conventional rules for outdoor living simply don’t work.
Single- or double-wall Tents
Polar experts are divided on the merits of single-wall and double-wall tents. My friend Pen Hadow, the first person to walk solo and unsupported to the North Pole from the Canadian side, uses a lightweight single-wall design. I dislike this style because every time the wind blows, all the frozen condensation drops down on the occupants. It’s like sleeping outside in falling snow. Double-wall tents are a bit heavier but much more comfortable.
I also like a tent with a valance. Valances reduce the amount of air that flows around the tent and increase the chance of moisture buildup, but are pretty much essential for shedding gusts of wind.
I find that the best way to deal with condensation from cooking is to create a chimney in the tent by cutting through the inner and outer, and installing a tube of foam from a camping mat. You lose a bit of heat, but most of the moisture disappears.
Don’t forget…
…a quick-drying Lifeventure towel and Granite Gear Air Bag to wrap around your camera when you bring it into the tent at night in order to deal with condensation issues
Martin Hartley (www.martinhartley.com) is one of the world’s leading expedition photographers. Next year, he will be taking part in a unique survey of the North Pole ice cap
Stockists:
Ajungilak: +47 23 14 37 00; www.ajungilak.no
Alpenstock: 0161 480 3660; www.alpenstock.co.uk
Baffin: +1 905 664 3930; www.baffin.com
Black Diamond: 01629 580 484; www.bdel.com
Brening: 01352 718025; www.brenig.co.uk
Cotswold Outdoor: 0870 442 7755; www.cotswoldoutdoor.com
Expedition Kit: 07970 782929; www.expeditionkit.com
Granite Gear: +1 218 834 5545; www.granitegear.com
Harvest Foodworks: +1 613 275 2218; www.harvestfoodworks.com
Hilleberg: +46 63 57 15 50; www.hilleberg.se
Lifeventure: 0118 981 1433; www.lifeventure.co.uk
Nevisport: 0870 240 1344; www.nevisport.com
Outside: 01433 651936; www.outside.co.uk
Patagonia: 0800 026 0055; www.patagonia.com/europe
Peglers: 01903 885244; www.peglers.co.uk
Rab: 01773 601870; www.rab.uk.com
RBH Designs: +1 860 231 7334; www.rbhdesigns.com
Snow & Rock: 0845 100 1000; www.snowandrock.com
Tiso: 0131 554 9101; www.tiso.com
Wintergreen Designs: +1 212 365 6602; www.wintergreendesigns.com
All prices quoted are recommended/suggested retail prices
December 2008
After losing our way one morning, we had to lug our sledges up a steep hill to get back on track. There was a fair bit of machismo going around, and we wanted to get back en route as quickly as possible.
It was a little chilly (about –20°C) and we did everything too quickly.
After harnessing ourselves to one sled and towing it to the top, we ran down to retrieve the remaining pulks. At no time did any of us stop to strip off a few layers of clothing.
By the time we got all four sleds to the top an hour later, we were sweating like turkeys in November, and dangerously close to hypothermia. At least we had the good sense to get the tents up and the stoves on. The absence of any knowledge about moisture management cost us the rest of the day. The price we paid could easily have been a lot higher.
Fabric choice
Moisture management can be split into three main categories: footwear, tent drills and personal clothing. Let’s look at clothing first.
Waterproof/breathable membranes and coatings are pretty much useless in the Arctic. Uncoated wind-resistant fabrics such as Pertex work far better, although it doesn’t need to be all that windproof. On a multi-month expedition, durability becomes increasingly important. When I joined a Trans-Arctic Ocean expedition a few years ago, the texturised fabric we used for our shell clothing was a little heavier than modern mountaineering materials. It also took a bit longer to dry than lightweight fabrics when soaked. However, it was strong enough to survive the very high level of punishment that we dished out on a daily basis. It was also impressively breathable, which is the most important feature for any fabric being worn in the Arctic environment.
My outer layers consist of a separate top and bottoms, as I find this to be more flexible than a one-piece suit. I also avoid shell clothing that boasts several zips, as these are the first things to go wrong in sub-zero conditions. My shell jacket has a full-length zip simply because it makes it easy to put on and take off. Interestingly, many of the Inuit with whom I’ve spent time still prefer to wear traditional ‘pull on, pull off’ clothing that’s devoid of zips, rather than modern polar attire.
Under the shell clothing, I wear one or two lightweight fleece garments. I only use Patagonia Regulator fabric as it dries quickly, packs down small and is amazingly breathable. Windproof and close-knit fleeces simply aren’t versatile enough; they prevent sweat vapour from escaping quickly.
I wear a very thin synthetic base layer against the skin. My underpants are made from the same fast-wicking material. Crucially, these are made with flat seams and have the advantage of a strategically placed windproof patch at the front.
I keep a lightweight synthetic fibre-filled jacket to hand and pull that on when my fleece clothing isn’t enough. An expedition down jacket with a superlight windproof outer lives in my pulk for rest stops and camp chores. Both of these garments have hoods that can be flicked on and off as needed.
In my experience, legs don’t need as much insulation as the rest of the body. The thigh muscles do most of the work and create the most heat. But I do carry a pair of synthetic fibre-filled pants to wear in the evening.
My lightweight hat is a windproof cycling skull cap that covers my ears.
I also carry two woollen hats for extra versatility. I try to keep one dry so I can wear it in the tent at night. I carry a neoprene facemask as an insurance policy but have never needed to use it.
Eyes and extremities
Goggles invariably mist up, and I only wear them on windy days. Although I don’t wear spectacles, I buy goggles that are designed to be worn with glasses as they sit further away from the face and help to minimise condensation. I also rip out the foam inserts from the top vents to improve air circulation.
My sunglasses have interchangeable lenses: orange for when it’s overcast to increase the contrast, and dark on sunny days. They are flexible to prevent cracking.
As a photographer, protecting my hands while still being able to do my job is a perennial problem. I think I’ve tried every available combination. At one stage, I field-tested 24 different pairs of gloves. And the answer is: Black Diamond Mountain Guide gloves.
The Mountain Guide mittens are also fantastic, although these seem to have been recently dropped from the range.
The only other alternative I use is a huge pair of felt and leather skidoo mittens on a static leash made from climbing tape. The leash is essential as, by the time you’ve finished taking photographs while wearing a pair of super-thin base-layer gloves, your hands are so cold that all the blood has been forced out of them. The only thing you’re then able to do is push the hands into the mittens. An Inuit elder once told me to stash a tiny ball of musk ox hair into each mitten to help keep my fingertips warm; not surprisingly, it works a treat.
I learnt about footwear the hard way. On a training trip at –48°C, I wore new boots that were inadequately insulated and fluffy socks that cramped my feet. Bad move. My feet were so constricted that an adequate amount of blood flow to my pinkies couldn’t be maintained. To compound the problems, my toes defrosted that evening in the tent and then refroze the next morning: the worst thing you can do to frostbitten feet. My toes turned purple then black and I was very fortunate not to lose any of them.
I now arm myself with two types of footwear and choose the most appropriate boot for the prevailing conditions. Early on in the season, I wear the warmest pair of Baffin Boots that I can lay my hands on. Later on, when conditions improve, I wear a lighter pair of boots with a little less insulation.
Start the slideshow (10 pictures)
Getting some kip
The trick to a warm, dry night’s sleep is to finish cooking before getting the sleeping bags out of your pulk. This makes for a miserable succession of cold evenings, but your sleeping system stays dry and you’ll sleep warmer for the duration of the expedition.
Everyone has their own sleeping bag preference. I use a vapour barrier to stop sweat passing into the insulation. Next up is a lightweight down or synthetic bag rated for summer conditions. This goes inside an expedition-rated synthetic bag, which, in turn, goes into a second, impermeable, bag. This final layer repels any frozen condensation that builds up on the inside of the tent during the night and inevitably lands on you in the morning. Between cooking and sleeping, I evacuate the tent and open up all the doors to allow any residual moisture and carbon monoxide to escape.
Ideally, sleep with your head outside your sleeping bag. This means that expired breath condenses on the tent rather than inside the bag.
If you’re thinking that camping in the Arctic is a deeply unpleasant experience, you’re right. However, when you’re travelling with dogs – or if you have frequent resupplies – you’ll be able to dedicate one stove to heating the tent. Then your nightmare will become a dream. Drying clothes is suddenly possible, and waiting hours for the other stoves to turn ice into water for drinks and food becomes bearable. Using a stove in a tent is, of course, extremely dangerous. But this is the Arctic, a place where many of the conventional rules for outdoor living simply don’t work.
Single- or double-wall Tents
Polar experts are divided on the merits of single-wall and double-wall tents. My friend Pen Hadow, the first person to walk solo and unsupported to the North Pole from the Canadian side, uses a lightweight single-wall design. I dislike this style because every time the wind blows, all the frozen condensation drops down on the occupants. It’s like sleeping outside in falling snow. Double-wall tents are a bit heavier but much more comfortable.
I also like a tent with a valance. Valances reduce the amount of air that flows around the tent and increase the chance of moisture buildup, but are pretty much essential for shedding gusts of wind.
I find that the best way to deal with condensation from cooking is to create a chimney in the tent by cutting through the inner and outer, and installing a tube of foam from a camping mat. You lose a bit of heat, but most of the moisture disappears.
Don’t forget…
…a quick-drying Lifeventure towel and Granite Gear Air Bag to wrap around your camera when you bring it into the tent at night in order to deal with condensation issues
Martin Hartley (www.martinhartley.com) is one of the world’s leading expedition photographers. Next year, he will be taking part in a unique survey of the North Pole ice cap
Stockists:
Ajungilak: +47 23 14 37 00; www.ajungilak.no
Alpenstock: 0161 480 3660; www.alpenstock.co.uk
Baffin: +1 905 664 3930; www.baffin.com
Black Diamond: 01629 580 484; www.bdel.com
Brening: 01352 718025; www.brenig.co.uk
Cotswold Outdoor: 0870 442 7755; www.cotswoldoutdoor.com
Expedition Kit: 07970 782929; www.expeditionkit.com
Granite Gear: +1 218 834 5545; www.granitegear.com
Harvest Foodworks: +1 613 275 2218; www.harvestfoodworks.com
Hilleberg: +46 63 57 15 50; www.hilleberg.se
Lifeventure: 0118 981 1433; www.lifeventure.co.uk
Nevisport: 0870 240 1344; www.nevisport.com
Outside: 01433 651936; www.outside.co.uk
Patagonia: 0800 026 0055; www.patagonia.com/europe
Peglers: 01903 885244; www.peglers.co.uk
Rab: 01773 601870; www.rab.uk.com
RBH Designs: +1 860 231 7334; www.rbhdesigns.com
Snow & Rock: 0845 100 1000; www.snowandrock.com
Tiso: 0131 554 9101; www.tiso.com
Wintergreen Designs: +1 212 365 6602; www.wintergreendesigns.com
All prices quoted are recommended/suggested retail prices
December 2008
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