Ripcord Adventure Journal 1.3 Second Edition

Volume 1 | Number 3 | Second Edition 

RAJ 1.3

A Letter from the Editor 

Welcome to Ripcord Adventure Journal. 

We begin this issue with a call to adventure from Bear Grylls' Mission 

Survive expedition and survival expert Megan Hine, followed by the 

Polar Explorer himself, Mark Terry, who brings us on a film-making 

journey to the icy desert of Antarctica. Our writers have crossed the 

Himalaya, cycled around the world to make sure it is indeed round, we 

hear of the legendary exploits of John Rae until we finally land on 

Kilimanjaro to witness a high altitude rescue. 

We aim to be the home of authentic, adventurous travel, which 

serves as a starting point for personal reflection, study and new 

journeys. 

On behalf of the editorial, writing, and design team, I wish to thank 

our sponsors at Redpoint Resolutions (Thomas Bochnowski, Ted 

Muhlner, Martha Marin and Corrine Mehigan), the World Explorers 

Bureau (Charlotte Baker-Weinert) and Adventure.com who provided 

unstinting support for the first edition. 

Tim Lavery 

Editor in Chief, Ripcord Adventure Journal 

www.ripcordadventurejournal.com 

www.ripcordtravelprotection.com

Ripcord Adventure Journal Copyright May 2015 by Redpoint 

Resolutions & World Explorers Bureau. 

All articles and images © 2015 of the respective Authors. 

Second Edition © 2017 

Assistant Editor for Second Edition: Méabh Lavery 

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, 

distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including 

photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical 

methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, 

except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews 

and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. 

Although the publisher has made every effort to ensure that the 

information in this book was correct at press time, the authors and 

publisher do not assume and hereby disclaim any liability to any 

party for any loss, damage, or disruption caused by errors or 

omissions, whether such errors or omissions result from negligence, 

accident, or any other cause. 

For permission requests, general enquiries or sponsorship 

opportunities, contact the publisher: 

Ripcord Adventure Journal: info@ripcordadventurejournal.com

"All I desired was to walk upon such an 

earth that had no maps." 

Michael Ondaatje 

"The English Patient"

RIPCORD 

ADVENTURE 

JOURNAL 

1.3 

Editor in Chief 

Tim Lavery 

Featuring 

Megan Hine 

Fearghal O'Nuallain 

Ken McGoogan 

Mark Terry 

Robert Torkildson 

Tom Bochnowski 

Second Edition 

Advisory Board 

Shane Dallas 

Paul Devaney 

Dr Terry Sharrer 

Charlotte Baker- 

Weinert 

Publishers 

Redpoint Resolutions 

& World Explorers 

Bureau 

WWW.RIPCORDADVENTUREJOURNAL.COM

Contents 

A call to adventure 

Megan Hine 

The world is round 


John Rae: Arctic Explorer 

Ken McGoogan 

The Antarctica challenge 

Mark Terry 

Book reviews 

Tor Torkildson 

The Climb for Valor 


Contributors and credits 

1 

5 

17 

29 

47 

77 

127

A call to 

adventure 

Megan Hine

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA 

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA 


Megan Hine 

I am proud to stand amongst the ranks of mountain and wilderness 

professionals, the silent corps with the thousand mile stare. Gazing 

towards future adventures, dreaming of remote places, living and 

breathing the outdoors. We follow in the wake of the great 

explorers, the trail blazers, the likes of Shackleton, Hillary, 

Amundsen, the explorers and pioneers of a bygone era, discovering 

and settling new lands. Those incredible humans who lit the flame 

of exploration and pushed the boundaries of human imagination. In 

all of us there glows a residual ember of this time of exploration, a 

dull need inside to push boundaries and discover new horizons, to 

fight for survival. This ember sits waiting for the draft of inspiration 

and opportunity to fan it into a burning passion. 

For some of us this flame burns bright, ever threatening to consume, 

we need to feed it with experiences and travel, it makes us restless 

and drives us towards new goals. It pushes us, ever onwards, 

searching for the next big hit, for moments of pure clarity, those 

moments of flow where the self and nature are one, the body lost to 

the rock or to the trail we climb or run. For me I find this in the 

wildest of places. The endless horizons offer a multitude of 

possibilities and a hefty dose of adrenalin draw me in. There is 

nothing more satisfying to me than pushing myself to the edge of 

what I thought was physically, mentally and emotionally possible. 

Like surfing on the peak of a breaking wave, nothing makes me feel 

more alive or connected to the world. 

I am privileged now to be able to share this with others, to take 

them by the hand and lead them over the threshold and into the 

wild. To help them to face their own challenges and to overcome 

hurdles they never thought possible. Watching people change in the 

wilderness and build confidence in themselves and their decisions, 

seeing that spark ignite and their life take on a whole new meaning 

is such an incredible experience to share. 

Somebody expressed recently to me their admiration for my 

adventures and how they wished they could be more adventurous 

but lacked the confidence. This struck a chord with me, there must 

be others, others whose image of themselves and what is ‘normal’ 

stops them from following their heart. Their dreams weighing them 

1


Megan Hine 

down, the frustration and failure they must feel in not being able to 

answer the call. It is so often our own self that limits our 

possibilities, creating barriers of self-doubt, seemingly impossible to 

overcome. 

Stop waiting, stop dreaming of ‘what ifs’! A whole world awaits 

you! Adventure isn’t just summiting the towering, snowcapped 

peaks or kayaking the gnarliest of falls. Adventure is subjective, it is 

what drives you and what calls to you, it is different in each of us. I 

love reading articles of passion from people pushing their own 

personal boundaries and what this means to them. For them their 

achievements equate to summiting their own, personal Everest. I 

have as much respect for the first time traveller as the seasoned. For 

those brave enough to take their first forays to discover themselves 

and their dream I salute you. 

This is a call to all of you dreamers, you ‘wannabe’ adventurers! 

Come stand shoulder to shoulder with us, bring your dull ember 

and let us help you to find the inspiration and opportunity to ignite 

it into flame. Let us share our knowledge with you, discover new 

horizons and give you the confidence to believe in yourself and to 

turn those dreams in to reality. 

2

"In that instant they felt an overwhelming 

sense of pride and accomplishment. 

Though they had failed dismally even to 

come close to the expedition's original 

objective, they knew now that somehow 

they had done much, much more than 

ever they set out to do." 

Alfred Lansing 

"Endurance: Shackleton's Incredible 

Voyage" 

3

"The world is round" 

8 

4 

Fearghal 

O'Nuallain

"The World is round" 


Lessons from 18 months cycling west. 



We covered 20km in two hours, grinding into the relentless 

headwind. Then it happened, we encountered a pack of wild dogs 

and they attacked. Kicking vainly in the dark at their snarling jaws 

we tried to out-run them. They appeared unfazed and though we 

pedalled hard they refused to give up their eyes shining like 

reflective dots. Time stretched and it seemed like our fate was bound 

to these feral canines that they’d wear us down and tear us apart in 

the dark desert. It was lucky that they couldn’t see our faces, if they 

had they would have recognised that we were spent, totally devoid 

of energy, and if they hung on, chased us a little longer, they could 

have had us. 

Luckily, they couldn’t, and just when it felt like our legs would 

burst and our lungs would cease we left the barking behind and the 

green eyes melted back into the black night. Once safely down the 

road, we allowed ourselves to stop, listened to racing heart beats and 

trembled in the darkness. Then we sat staring at the horizon just 

sitting on the sand berms on the red sea coast looking east and 

seaward watching the oil rigs in the flare of the distance. 

In the footsteps of Eratosthenes 

“I have always loved the desert. One sits down on a desert sand 

dune, sees nothing, hears nothing. Yet through the silence something 

throbs, and gleams...” 

Antoine de Saint-Exupéry 

I was with my childhood friend Simon Evans and we were cycling 

from Aswan to Alexandria because we’d planned to cycle around 

the world the following year. We were ostensibly looking for an 

adventure but I’d kept my reasons for circumnavigating the globe 

by bike to myself, I wanted to prove to myself that the world was 

round and cycling west until I arrived back where I started was the 

best way that I could think of doing that. 

We’d come to Egypt, because of a Greek scholar called Eratosthenes 

who was the first person to figure out that the world was round in 

5

Guest Editorial 


the third century BC. He was the first person to see roundness 

where others saw flatland. Eratosthenes was the first person to 

suggest that the world was round and proved his theory with some 

basic trigonometry; using the distance from the Pharos lighthouse in 

Alexandria to Aswan which currently sits on the Sudanese border 

and the angles of the sun in each place on the longest day of the 

year. From these facts he worked out that the Earth’s circumference 

must be 39,690 km, the actual distance is 40,075 km - Eratosthenes 

was off by less than 2%. I’m not completely happy unless I’ve seen 

something for myself, so, when I read about Eratosthenes I had to 

go and experience each one of those 1,000km of desert and Nile that 

moved him to think that the world was round. 

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA 

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA 

And that is how we found ourselves sitting on the side of the road 

in the dark, recovering from shock, in Egypt’s Western Desert. We 

had started our day at 3am to escape the desert heat but a merciless 

headwind meant that by 12am we had fallen well short of the truck 

stop we had hoped to spend the afternoon. We found ourselves on a 

sandy plain with no shade to offer protection from the midday sun. 

We had pitched our tent and spent 4 hours sweating in 40°C shade. 

It was our 5th day in the desert and we were dog tired. 

At 3pm the sun softened enough for us to venture out of our tent. 

We had run out of water early on in the day and we were both 

grumpy and fatigued from dehydration. We packed up and cycled 

for an hour and a half before reaching the truck stop where we’d 

originally planned to hide from the sun at midday. Deserts have 

amazing sunsets, and Egypt’s eastern desert was no exception. A big 

smoky disc of orange was burning the horizon as we left the café, a 

group of truckers encouraging us to stay. Speaking machine-gun 

Arabic, they gestured to the space for two sleeping bags in their 

prayer room. There was also cool water from their well, and bowls 

of stewed fava beans to eat with flat bread. It was tempting, but in 

our minds we were on an adventure, and we had 80km left to cover 

that day, so off we cycled, chasing the beams of our head torches 

back into the darkening desert and towards the pack of wild dogs 

once again. 

Eventually a truck appeared cutting an ephemeral swathe through 

6





the night with its powerful headlamps, we flagged it down in 

resigned silence. As its air-breaks hissed it to a halt I felt broken and 

beaten by our ineptitude. It was a bitter relief to climb out of the 

darkness and into a bright womb-like cab. While the driver scolded 

us for being out in the desert at night, I thought of Eratosthenes. I 

imagined the land that he had walked, and I imagined what would 

be left for him to explore if he was alive in the small world that we 

live in today. As the truck trundled through the darkness I 

wondered if he’d approve of our quest and what he’d make of two 

Irishmen sitting in the cab of an old Mercedes truck pulling a 

Chinese shipping container along the road to Cairo. 

The hardest part was letting go, not taking part 

“The art is not one of forgetting but letting go. And when everything 

else is gone, you can be rich in loss.” 

Rebecca Solnit 

The following year we left our home town, our fully loaded KTM 

bikes wobbled down the main street to cheers and best wishes from 

friends & family. I thought that I wanted to cycle around the world 

to be a hero but really I wanted an excuse to learn life lessons about 

the connections between the people and places that dot the map of 

the world. The bicycle is an excellent tool with which to do this; 

travelling fast enough to register change but slow enough not to 

pass it by. It is an intimate way to travel. 

Long bike rides leave little space for the superfluous things that fill 

our modern lives as every additional thing adds extra weight to haul. 

We fretted about what gear to bring and what to leave behind 

during the weeks before we left. But it was when I kissed goodbye 

to my Mum and girlfriend Marina that I realised what I actually was 

going to miss. Stripping down worldly possessions to only those 

that will fit into a 100 litre vulcanised bag in a steel trailer is 

surprisingly easy; if you can’t wear it, cook with it or sleep in it, you 

probably don’t need it. Human bonds are much harder to break. 

There’s no down jacket that can replace the warmth of the familial 

and familiar. The threads that connect the heart strings to home 

tugged like elastic at our backs until we were half way round the 

7



world in Almaty in Kazakhstan, then pulled us homeward once 

again. 

Learning to live on the road 

Our route took us south to Madrid, through a European winter and 

the first challenge we faced was to learn to adapt to living on the 

road. Cycle touring is an odd blend of wild and urban. We often 

spent weeks wearing the same clothes and wild camping and then 

found ourselves rubbing shoulders with “normal” people in a 

restaurant or supermarket. This took a little bit of getting used to. 

Normally, we spend our lives trying to stay clean, taking care that 

our nails are clipped and that we change our socks daily. When you 

sleep in a different place each night and you have to pull all of your 

worldly possessions behind you, normal practices such as 

cleanliness become luxuries that are difficult to maintain. 



It was a Tuesday morning in December and I was queuing for bread 

in a supermarket just outside Bordeaux when I learned a lesson 

about how you are treated if you don’t smell right. I had been on 

the road for three weeks when I noticed that everyone was looking 

at me. The queue for bread dissipated as soon as I joined it and the 

baker grimaced when I gave my order in halting French. It doesn’t 

seem like a big deal perhaps, we might be covered from head to toe 

in mud after a rugby match or wear the same boxers for a week on a 

mountain trek. But what’s a little odd about cycle touring is that 

you become conscious that your aroma, somewhere between an 

aged camembert and a well-used sports bag, is at odds with the 

odours of normal society - the citrus, musk or spice of aftershave, 

perfume and deodorant. 

At first I promised myself that when I get back to normality I 

would shower every day and always, ALWAYS, wear clean clothes. 

As we travelled farther from home, geographically and culturally, 

those feelings diminished. I ceased to care. We grew more used to 

being scruffy, to eating with unwashed hands and putting on dirty 

clothes. Growing into the skin of the outsider, we became immune 

to the admonishing stares and grimaces of “polite society”. I grew 

slowly immune, growing comfortable even, to being dirty and 

8



having an aged and somewhat complex body aroma. 

The overview effect 

“..the world teaches us more than books… because it is resistant to 

us” 

Antoine de Saint-Exupéry 

Adventure should be a revolutionary experience. Big journeys have 

profound impacts on those that go on them. Circumnavigating the 

globe by bicycle under my own steam is a big journey. One that had 

drastic and far reaching implications for how I thought and behaved 

thereafter. It taught me that the world is not something that is 

separate from me. That everything is connected and interlinked and 

that my actions had consequences. 

Everyday this great big planet of ours orbits the sun. The sun rises 

in the east makes its way across the sky and sets in the west. It is a 

cycle. Wherever you are this is a truth. It’s been happening for 

forever, yesterday and every day before that, tomorrow and every 

day after that, the solar disc will keep arcing relentlessly across the 

heavens regardless of human whim or folly. Its trajectory sets in 

motion a routine chain of events. Every hour a part of the world 

wakes up, another goes to sleep. Every hour a whole north to south 

tranche of people have lunch, brush their teeth, start work or go to 

bed. If you followed it you’d hear a constant dawn chorus, a 

Mexican wave of bird song, as the birds around the world sing 

another celebration to a new day dawning. 

Cycling westwards meant, quite literally, chasing the sun each day. 

In the morning I cycled away from the sunrise, feel its first warm 

rays on my back and bum. During the day the left side of my face 

got sunburnt, in the evening I chased an always approaching yet 

never attainable horizon - a flat rainbow of gold, burnt orange and 

pink. In deserts, on mountainsides and in the outskirts of towns 

each evening, I'd pitch my tent and watch the sun go down, no 

closer to it than when I started that morning, knowing that we’d 

meet again in a few hours and begin the chase for another day. 

9



Life on the road is simple, wake early, pack your life into a 

waterproof bag and cycle until sunset; stopping when the view, your 

stomach or your eyes compel you. Life on the road is not without 

physical hardship, the world can be bitterly cold, dry, noisy, 

dangerous, stiflingly hot, lonely and alien. Nature has shaped the 

world awkwardly, time and pressure has knotted and folded its skin, 

burnished and brazed its empty quarters with desiccant and freezing 

winds and placed stones and sand instead of soil; rocky mountains 

where a flat fertile plain would be nicer. 



Man has done his bit too, filling the world with the concrete urban 

mazes of cities where the laws of competition subdue man's better 

nature, carving spiritless badlands; boxes of concrete and glass in its 

centres and littered its fringes with innumerable plastic bags, 

rubbish dumps, skinny dogs and snotty nosed children. 

Revolution 

In the desert state of Xinjiang in Western China we were half the 

world away from home. The biggest desert is called the Taklamakan. 

From space it looks like a tear drop. It took ten days to cycle across; 

ten days of sleeping beneath a twinkling starry sky, filling up on 

water and food at settlements that had provided respite for caravans 

of Silk Road travellers for thousands of years. The desert was empty 

but not devoid, I had my thoughts for company. Sometimes, I’d 

record my thoughts on a dictaphone as I cycled along. 50km east of 

Hami - an ancient Silk Road oasis that Marco Polo allegedly passed 

through on his travels through China - I recorded, “the landscape is 

a dusty monochrome of khaki brown. It is flat. The sky is high, 

wrapped around me like an azure dome. I must be below a flight 

path as the space above is streaked with a cotton wool like trail in 

wide arcs. I’m cycling west and these streaks come from the east 

behind me, swoop over me and it looks like they are diving off into 

the distance. Obviously, the airplanes are flying, in what appears to 

the pilots, as a straight line. But they are actually following a curved 

path that mirrors the curvature of the Earth.” 

I had been alone for the previous weeks, grinding west through a 

featureless landscape. But when I listen back to the recording today 

10

11



I can tell that I was excited about that insight. It was all starting to 

make sense; “I’m cycling along on the flat earth in the desert in 

western China, and the earth’s curvature is staring me in the face. 

I’m reminded that what seems like a straight line is actually an arc. 

Each morning the sun rises behind me, travels around my left flank 

then sets before me in an orange blaze.” 

This was a practical reminder of the nature of circumnavigation. It is 

possible for one to travel consistently in one direction, never look 

or turn back, to eventually arrive back at the precise point where 

you began. I was in another desert and I was channelling 

Eratosthenes again. I was beginning to see roundness where before I 

would have just seen flat lines. 



We shall not cease from exploration 

And the end of all our exploring 

Will be to arrive where we started 

And know the place for the first time. 

T.S. Elliot 

We completed our travels in May 2010 arriving home after 18 

months on the road covering 31,000km through 30 countries. It was 

then that I re-discovered the extract from T.S. Eliot’s “Little 

Gidding”. I had first encountered the poem when a professor had 

recited it on the first day of University, saying that it held the key to 

the Why? of Exploration. Subsequently I had encountered it often, 

as many travellers had shared the same quote. It used to bug me that 

I didn’t get it, what was so profound about those four little lines? It 

never really made sense to me until I arrived back in my home town 

in Ireland and found a place that was familiar but was not the same. 

You can’t bottle a sunset 

“Man follows only phantoms.” 

Pierre-Simon Laplace 

Chasing sunsets on a bicycle is the same as chasing sunsets in our 

everyday lives. Each morning the sun rises, and we spend 16 hours 

chasing a sunset, a far off mirage, beautiful but distant and 

12



immaterial, ending the day exactly where we started, no closer than 

when we began. Perhaps our sunset is rarely a physical horizon. 

Perhaps it is more likely a dream, an aspiration, an ideal. 

We are creatures of purpose, so we couch those dreams, aspirations 

and ideals in pragmatic terms like goals and projects. Chasing is 

what we do. The chase is thrilling. The chase is what’s important. 

The clock is ticking, and unforgiving and you get only one run. One 

shot, one chance. So, chase, chase for all you’re worth. Choose your 

sunset, pick a horizon and go for it. Enjoy the feeling of the sun 

warming your bum on a cold desert morning. Don’t be too 

perturbed as the harsh midday rays burn your face. And be grateful 

as you cycle towards a golden horizon tinged with peach and pink. 

Do not despair when it turns navy blue and melts into pitch and 

leaves you blind. 

Revel in the fact that you chased your sunset with vigour and spirit. 

Because, at the end of your day, that’s your reward. You can’t bottle 

a sunset. The fluffy pink mother of pearl tinged clouds would not 

make good pillows, soft as they appear. You can’t take a sunset to 

bed with you to keep you warm through the cold night. But its 

beauty is beguiling and the memory of it will fill your dreams and 

keep you from losing yourself in the dark night. 

And that’s the most important lesson I learned from spending 18 

months cycling west. That the journey is more important than the 

destination is an oft-repeated cliché, but not a meaningless one. 

Chasing the sunset is important, riding for all your worth towards 

something inspiring and beautiful is all that there is in life. It matters 

not that each night, when the sun goes down you're no closer to the 

sunset. It’s not important that you will never reach that far off great 

wall of burnt orange. What matters is that you chase it with passion, 

courage and conviction. What matters is that you give chase for all 

you are worth. 

13

John Rae: 

Arctic Explorer 

Ken McGoogan 

14



John Rae: Arctic explorer 

Ken McGoogan 

On September 30, 2014, about sixty people crowded into a chapel in 

Westminster Abbey to witness the unveiling of a modest ledger 

stone that reads: “John Rae / 1813-1893/ Arctic Explorer.” Installed 

directly beneath an ornate bust of Sir John Franklin in the chapel of 

St. John the Evangelist, the red sandstone ledger represents a 

completion. 

At the ceremonial unveiling, I was invited to say a few words, 

mainly because I had written a book about Rae (Fatal Passage). I 

spoke of how the Orkney-born Scot had finished the work that 

engaged Franklin. In 1854, eight years after Franklin and his two 

ships got trapped in the Arctic ice, John Rae solved the two great 

mysteries of 19th-century Arctic exploration. 

While surveying Canada’s northern coastline for the Hudson’s Bay 

Company (HBC), Rae discovered both the final link in the first 

navigable Northwest Passage and the tragic fate of the Franklin 

expedition, whose final survivors had resorted to cannibalism. By 

reporting this melancholy truth and defending the integrity of the 

Inuit who revealed it to him, Rae became one of the most 

controversial figures in the history of northern exploration. 

On returning to Victorian England, he faced a campaign of 

denunciation and vilification led by Jane, Lady Franklin, the widow 

of Sir John, and Charles Dickens, the country’s most influential 

writer. The Orcadian Rae, the greatest rough-country traveller of 

the age, saw his geographical achievements credited to others. He 

became the only major Arctic explorer never to receive a 

knighthood. And even today, after a years-long campaign 

culminated in the installation of that memorial ledger stone, many 

who should know better still deny him his rightful recognition. 

Born in Stromness, Orkney, in 1813, the son of a prosperous land 

agent, John Rae spent his youth climbing, fishing, hiking, hunting, 

and sailing. He trained as a doctor at the University of Edinburgh 

and, at nineteen, sailed with the HBC as a surgeon. Ice prevented 

the ship from returning home, and Rae spent a winter on tiny 

Charlton Island near the bottom of Hudson Bay. He survived food 

shortages, freezing cold temperatures, and an outbreak of scurvy 

15


Ken McGoogan 

that killed two men. 

In the spring, realizing he was well-suited to “the wild sort of life” 

available with the HBC, he signed on to serve two years as a 

Company doctor—and ended up remaining at Moose Factory, the 

HBC’s second largest fur-trading post, for more than a decade. He 

mastered canoeing, snow-shoeing, and native methods of hunting, 

trapping, and catching game. Still in his twenties, Rae became 

legendary as a survivalist and snowshoe walker. Once, making a 

long-distance home call, he covered 104 miles in two days -- 

seventy-four on the second. 



In 1844, Rae convinced the governor of the Hudson's Bay 

Company, George Simpson, that he was the man to complete the 

geographical survey of the Arctic coast of North America—part of 

the continuing, centuries-old quest for a Northwest Passage. The 

following year, after wintering at York Factory in Hudson Bay, Rae 

led a dozen men north in two 22-foot sailboats. At Repulse Bay, he 

became the first European to winter in the High Arctic (above the 

tree line) while relying mainly on his own resources rather than on 

imported provisions. 

The explorer tells that story in Narrative of an Expedition to the 

Shores of the Arctic Sea, republished in 2012 as part of The Arctic 

Journals of John Rae. In that work, Rae describes how, having spent 

the winter in a rough stone house, he traveled northwest with five 

men and two dogsleds, sleeping in igloos as he went. After reaching 

Lord Mayor's Bay, which John Ross had discovered by sea from the 

north, he returned to Repulse Bay. With four men, Rae then trekked 

to the west coast of Melville Peninsula, battling fierce winds, 

drifting snow, and hummocky ice to come within a few miles of 

Fury and Hecla Strait, so named by Royal Navy explorer William 

Edward Parry. 

On this expedition, Rae charted 655 miles of new land and coastline. 

He demonstrated that “Boothia Felix” was a peninsula, confirmed 

that no channel or passage led west out of Hudson Bay, and 

established a reputation as an Arctic pioneer. The chief hunter of 

every expedition he led, Rae was the first European to adopt the 

16




Ken McGoogan 

Inuit techniques of icing sledge runners and using igloos for longdistance 

travel. Ultimately, he traversed 6,555 miles on foot and 

6,700 miles in canoes and boats, while surveying 1,165 mile of 

previously uncharted territory. 

The primary source for this period of his life is John Rae's Arctic 

Correspondence: 1844-1855, recently reissued with a foreword by 

yours truly. When the first edition of that work appeared in 1953, 

sixty years after the explorer’s death, explorer Vilhjalmur Stefansson 

hailed Rae as “the most challenging figure in the history of 

nineteenth-century Arctic exploration.” Recognizing him as “a 

genius in the art of travelling,” Stefansson argued that Rae's 

adaptations and innovations constituted a revolutionary advance in 

northern travel: “Rae was as new as Darwin.” 

In 1848, Rae served with Sir John Richardson as second-incommand 

of an overland expedition sent in search of John Franklin, 

who had disappeared into the Arctic with 128 men and two ships 

(one of which, the Erebus, was found only in 2014). Rae and 

Richardson travelled down the Mackenzie River and searched the 

Arctic coast eastward to the mouth of the Coppermine River. The 

following spring, Richardson retreated to England and Rae tried 

unsuccessfully to reach Victoria Island by boat. 

Arctic Correspondence reveals how in 1851, resuming the search for 

Franklin, Rae trekked across a frozen strait to Victoria Island. He 

traced the coastline west and north to Prince Albert Sound and then 

returned to the mainland (a journey of 1,080 miles). At spring thaw, 

having designed and rigged two sailboats, Rae sailed east and north 

along the coast of Victoria Island to Albert Edward Bay. Halted by 

ice, he hiked still farther north through jagged debris, and “before 

the day's journey was half done, every step I took was marked with 

blood.” Later, an Admiralty hydrographer would credit Rae’s 

detailed survey work to a Royal Navy captain who followed his 

route years later. 

Now, back in the sailboats, Rae tried three times to cross Victoria 

Strait to King William Island, where Franklin’s ships had got 

trapped. He was prevented by pack ice. He could not know it, but 

17

18

19


Ken McGoogan 

he had come within forty miles of solving the Franklin mystery. 

While sailing back westward, and completing a voyage of 1,394 

miles, Rae found the first relics of the lost expedition—two pieces 

of wood from one of Franklin's ships. That winter, returning to 

England, Rae traveled from Lake Athabaska to St. Paul, Minnesota, 

on snowshoes - a total of 1,730 miles. The last 450, aided by dogs, 

he covered in ten days. 

In 1853, determined to finish charting Canada’s Arctic coastline -- 

which is contiguous with the southern channel of the Northwest 

Passage -- Rae again sailed north to Repulse Bay. After wintering 

there, he led a sledge party 500 miles northwest through blowing 

snow, gale-force winds, and bitter cold. Having reached the west 

coast of Boothia Peninsula, Rae trekked north with the only two 

men who could hope to keep up with him -- an Ojibwa and an 

Inuk. He discovered that, contrary to Admiralty maps, a narrow 

channel separated Boothia from King William Island. He built a 

cairn to mark his discovery, and in 1999, travelling with an 

antiquarian and an Inuit historian, I located the remains of that cairn 

and erected a commemorative plaque beside it. 

This waterway, Rae Strait, would prove to be the final link in the 

Northwest Passage—the only such channel navigable by sailing 

ships of that era. Five decades later, when in 1903-’06 Roald 

Amundsen became the first explorer to navigate the Passage, he 

sailed through Rae Strait. Nobody would manage to navigate any 

other route until 1944, when technological advances would enable 

Canadian Henry Larsen to do so. 

Now, in 1854, while returning to his base camp, Rae encountered 

Inuit hunters who relayed disturbing tales. Back at Repulse Bay, he 

conducted exhaustive interviews and determined that the Franklin 

expedition had ended in disaster. The final survivors had resorted to 

cannibalism. He purchased identifiable relics, among them silver 

spoons and forks, an order of merit, and a small silver plate 

engraved with the name of Franklin. Situated hundreds of overland 

miles from the relevant sites, and with spring thaw melting the ice, 

he could not hope to extend his search for at least a year. 

20


Ken McGoogan 

Rae decided to return to England. In October 1854, when he arrived 

in London, the British Admiralty immediately published his 

confidential report in The Times. It included many grim details that 

the explorer had gleaned from the Inuit. Some of the bodies had 

been buried. Some lay in a tent or tents, and others lay under a boat 

turned over to provide shelter. One man, probably an officer, had a 

telescope strapped over his shoulders, and his double-barreled gun 

lay beneath him. 

“From the mutilated state of many of the corpses and contents of the 

kettles,” Rae wrote, “it is evident that our wretched countrymen had 

been driven to the last resource -- cannibalism -- as a means of 

prolonging existence.” 

In the 1990s, Canadian forensic scientists verified this assertion. 

And in 2009, even a Royal Navy historian acknowledged its truth. 

Launching into the prologue to a biography of Franklin, Andrew 

Lambert wrote that in May 1848, British sailors “began butchering 

and eating their comrades. . . . they ate their shipmates, not one or 

two, but forty or fifty.” 

In 1854, however, Victorian England reacted to Rae’s report with 

denial, shock, and outrage. Jane Franklin, widow of Sir John, 

launched a campaign to discredit the explorer. She enlisted Charles 

Dickens, who in his weekly magazine Household Words chastised 

Rae for accepting “the Eskimo savage” as a credible witness. Rae 

stood firm and defended himself with truth. But his awkwardness as 

a writer, reflected in the organization of his published report, 

rendered him vulnerable to misinterpretation and attack. Details can 

be found in The Arctic Journals of John Rae. 

The controversy played itself out in newspapers and journals. In 

1856, Rae received the posted £10,000 reward for having ascertained 

the fate of the Franklin expedition. But otherwise, leading 

Victorians challenged, minimized, and obscured his achievements. 

They erected monuments to Sir John Franklin and to Francis 

Leopold McClintock, the first of a long line of figures to elaborate 

on Rae's findings. 

21


Ken McGoogan 

The base of the Franklin bust in Westminster Abbey, for example, 

erected by Jane, Lady Franklin, hails her husband for “completing 

the discovery of the North-West Passage,” and commemorates 

McClintock as “discoverer of the fate of Franklin.” Neither claim 

stands up to scrutiny. But now, at least, a ledger stone at the foot of 

the bust points to the true discoverer of both the final link and the 

fate: “John Rae / 1813-1893 / Arctic Explorer.” 

Books cited: 

Fatal Passage: The Untold Story of John Rae, the Arctic Adventurer 

Who Discovered the Fate of Franklin, by Ken McGoogan 

(HarperCollins Canada / TransWorld Bantam, 2001. 

Lady Franklin’s Revenge: A True Story of Ambition, Obsession and 

the Remaking of Arctic History, by Ken McGoogan (HarperCollins 

/ TransWorld Bantam, 2005). 

The Arctic Journals of John Rae: Selected and introduced by Ken 

McGoogan (TouchWood Editions, 2012). 

John Rae’s Arctic Correspondence: 1844-1855. Foreword by Ken 

McGoogan (TouchWood Editions, 2014). 

Franklin: Tragic Hero of Polar Navigation, by Andrew Lambert 

(Faber and Faber, 2009). 

22

“There were only three names on the map 

of the region we had brought with us, but 

we now filled in more than two hundred.” 

Heinrich Harrer 

"Seven Years in Tibet" 

23

The Antarctica 

challenge 

Mark Terry 

24


Mark Terry 



“Do not go where the path may lead; 

go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.” 

Ralph Waldo Emerson 

Hanging from a ledge of ice, only 200 feet separated me from life 

and death. I had stepped on a fragile mantle of ice that quickly 

collapsed beneath my feet. Instinctively, I stretched out my arms at 

both sides to prevent my fall in the newly-emerged crevice below. I 

wasn’t sure if the weight of my body would once again crumble the 

edges of this canyon, but I didn’t have time to take any other evasive 

measure. My sudden “T-formation” saved my life. 

I felt I had a firm hold of the icy ledges. I took a furtive look down 

to see a depth that looked to be about 20 meters. I shimmied back 

carefully. No sudden moves, just slow, measured ones. When I felt 

my back touch of the walls of the crevice, I dug my heels into the 

walls of ice to gradually push myself up. 

I was close to reaching my goal of being waist-high to the surface 

when my arms gave out causing me to lose ground and fall back to 

my painful T-formation and dangle perilously once again. I thought 

of calling for help, but I feared I did not have the strength to hang in 

there – literally – by the time they would scale the mountain to 

where I was. I believed I had one last attempt in me and it was either 

going to work or I was going to die. 

I dug my heels in once more and pushed myself up. My trembling 

arms did not give the confidence I needed to make it. I began to 

think what it would feel like to fall that far and how hard the final 

impact would be. Would I die instantly or injure myself sufficiently 

to feel the pain as my life slowly slipped away? Before I could 

indulge any further with thoughts that would have most certainly 

led to my demise, the icy corner behind my rear end crumbled and I 

found myself actually sitting on a ledge. 

This welcomed icy chair allowed my arms to finally get the relief 

they were screaming for. I let the blood race back through them and 

found the strength for the last push that brought me to waist level. 

25


Mark Terry 

Once at that height, I could bring my foot to the newly-formed 

shelf, my former seat, and vaulted myself to the more solid ice 

which I was walking on just moments ago. 

I hastily and carefully scurried far away from the crevice that nearly 

claimed my life and back down the hill to the shore where my crew 

was relaxing in the sun, blissfully unaware that I almost didn’t make 

it back at all. 

“Hey Mark! Did you find anything?” said the Production 

Coordinator when she saw me coming down the hill. 

“Yes, a second chance at life,” I said enigmatically. “Let’s get back to 

the ship. Nothing more to shoot here.” 

This wasn’t the first time my polar explorations nearly cost me my 

life. It comes with the territory as the Arctic and Antarctica remain 

the most inhospitable places on the planet, which is why so few 

people live there. Even today, scientists embedded in Antarctica do 

so for only six months. Wintering in Antarctica is rarely done, 

except by a few brave and dedicated souls. 

I have been stalked by polar bears, attacked by a Weddell seal, 

tossed around in my ship by Arctic storms and 30-foot swells in the 

Drake Passage and have nearly fallen through sea ice many times. 

I never started out my career thinking these dangerous, yet 

beautiful, places would be my home and my obsession when I 

began making documentary films in 1983, but that’s exactly what 

happened in 2008 when I looked into Antarctica for a possible story. 

With the films March of the Penguins and Werner Herzog’s quirky 

Encounters at the End of the World capturing the imagination of the 

world, it seemed the time was right for a documentary on 

Antarctica from another angle. As a broadcast journalist entering 

my 50th year of life it seemed appropriate to seek out a reason to 

check off Antarctica from my professional bucket list so I began to 

investigate what story Antarctica had to tell that wasn`t already told. 

26


Mark Terry 

I soon learned that the International Council for Science and the 

World Meteorological Organization had declared that 2007 to 2009 

would be International Polar Year (IPY), a call to the scientists of 

the world to focus their research on the Arctic and Antarctica. The 

reason the “year” took place over three years was to provide full 

and equal coverage of both Polar Regions. This timeframe covered 

two full annual cycles from March 2007 to March 2009 and involved 

more than 200 projects, and thousands of scientists from more than 

60 nations examining a wide range of physical, biological and social 

research topics. 

Among the topics they were tasked with researching the one that 

jumped off the page to me was Global Warming. Yes, it was still 

referred to as Global Warming in 2007 but was soon to become an 

issue more familiar to the masses as Climate Change. This was 

largely in part due to the high profile the 15th Convention of Parties 

conference that was about to take place in Copenhagen in 

December of 2009 known as the United Nations Framework on 

Climate Change. 

This highly anticipated event marked the apex of the environmental 

issue of global warming. It was expected that international policy 

would be put in place to solve the escalating crisis once and for all. 

But I’m getting ahead of myself… Before committing to a 

documentary on Antarctica reporting on IPY research there, I had a 

lot of research to do. The first order of business was to see what 

other reports were out there and view some of the other televised 

reports, maybe even other documentaries that have already been 

made. To my surprise, there was nothing! 

There was plenty of coverage on IPY research coming out of the 

Arctic as that polar region is relatively more accessible. Seeing not 

even one article online from any media source fuelled my desire to 

launch this production. I was confident I had a “scoop”, to use the 

old newspaper term, and that if I acted fast enough, I could be the 

first to showcase the all-stars of polar science in Antarctica as well 

as profile the rapidly-changing face of the world’s most mysterious 

land. 

27


Mark Terry 

I began researching how to get to Antarctica and soon found that it 

was not going to be easy. There are no airports in Antarctica – or 

roads or stores or homes. It is the only continent on earth that is 

protected from civilization and reserved strictly for scientific 

research. It’s the only continent on which man has never lived. 

There are no residential land claims, no commercial enterprises, no 

natural resource mining, no military occupation, no recreational or 

park areas, just a few scientific research stations scattered mainly 

around its coasts. 

The continent is protected by a document called the Antarctica 

Treaty, created the year I was born and available for signature Dec. 

1, 1959, it came into force June 23, 1961 when 12 countries signed it. 

The 12 countries were Argentina, Australia, Belgium, Chile, France, 

Japan, New Zealand, Norway, South Africa, the Soviet Union, the 

United Kingdom and the United States. There are 50 countries now 

and I feared I was going to have to get permission from each one to 

visit Antarctica. 

Visas are not required to land in Antarctica – there are no passport 

offices there to process them. Instead, I was required to seek 

permission directly from the scientific organizations stationed there. 

If they agreed to my visit, I would be given papers to show the 

captain of the ship that would provide passage from Argentina to 

the west coast of Antarctica. 

I had tried the British Antarctic Survey first. While they weren’t 

able to accommodate a visit to their station during the dates I was 

planning on visiting – December to January, 2008-2009 – they did 

offer a visit to their Cambridge, UK, headquarters and access to 

some of the best polar scientists in the world. 

My next step was the Russians. They seemed enthusiastic for the 

visit and connected me with lead scientist Dr. Yeugeny Karyagin at 

the Vernadsky Research Base operated by the Ukranian Akademik 

Antarctica: 

Dear Mark: 

28


Mark Terry 

We look forward to seeing you and your crew here at Vernadsky 

Station. We have a lot of climate research to share with you. Please 

come on December 31 and we can celebrate the New Year with you. 

Dr. Yeugeny Karyagin, 

Base Commander 

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA 

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA 

I remember thinking it was odd for a scientist to go by the title of 

Base Commander. I instantly imagined soldiers with guns in lab 

coats running across the frozen tundra, their tanks outfitted with 

labs and research equipment, but the most important element of this 

correspondence was the permission it granted. I had finally secured 

the necessary document to grant me access to land on the continent 

and conduct the interviews for my documentary. Now I just had to 

plan the route. 

Getting to the closest piece of civilized land to Antarctica seemed 

unnecessarily complicated: three connecting flights from Toronto, 

first to Houston, then to Santiago, Chile, then to Punta Reina, 

Argentina, then finally to Ushuaia, the southernmost city in the 

world, capital of South America’s Tierra Del Fuego and nicknamed 

La Fin del Mundo (the End of the World). The various flights 

represented 24 hours of travel with lay-overs and we had to time 

things perfectly because the ship that would then takes us across the 

Drake Passage to Antarctica left only once a month. There was no 

room for error. 

There were a few small cruise ships taking passengers to Antarctica 

in 2006. They accommodated about 60 people and their passengers 

were an eclectic mix of scientists and wealthy adventurers checking 

off their own bucket lists. I found that Quark Expeditions out of 

Toronto had a vessel leaving Ushuaia at exactly the right time for me 

to rendezvous with the scientists at Vernadsky Station on New 

Year`s Eve. I met with them and tried to negotiate a reduced fee for 

myself and my crew. Travelling to Antarctica carries with it the 

highest price tag of any equivalent trip and I had not yet begun to 

raise development and production funds. 

I offered to provide them photography and HD video footage for 

29

30




Mark Terry 

them to use for promotional purposes. I also gave them prominent 

logo exposure and a special thanks mention in the film`s tail credits. 

In return, I was granted a very generous 40 per cent discount on all 

fares for me and my crew. 

Things were starting to fall into place. I knew I had the paperwork 

to actually go to Antarctica as well as how much my travel was 

going to cost. I now had to complete the rest of the budget and 

begin beating the bushes for a television broadcast partner to help 

fund the production. 

From the beginning of this project, I had only one cinematographer 

in mind: Damir Chytil. I hadn`t worked with him since the 1990s 

when we made a documentary for Paramount Pictures called Clive 

Barker: The Art of Horror. At the time, he was known as the 

“Danger Man” going to death-defying lengths to get that 

spectacular, jaw-dropping shot. More importantly, he had 

accumulated through this reputation an extensive amount of 

shooting experience in the Arctic, often under severe weather 

conditions. Clearly, he was the right man for the job. 

I renewed my acquaintance with him and when I told him about the 

project he enthusiastically accepted. Going to Antarctica was also 

on his professional bucket list. He recommended a sound recordist 

with whom he had worked in the Arctic, Stephen Bourne. Thinking 

it wise to pair colleagues who had worked together in the 

unforgiving environments of a polar region, I arranged to meet Mr. 

Bourne at a nearby Tim Horton`s coffee shop for the job interview. 

I was a little nervous in hiring anyone I hadn’t worked with 

previously as the world of show business is often populated by 

unreliable , ego-centric personalities and I couldn’t afford to bring a 

“flake” on this once-in-a-lifetime mission. His resume seemed 

accomplished, including his Arctic experience, and Damir had 

vouched for him, still, the all-important face-to-face was needed to 

confirm or reject his addition to the crew. 

I got there early so I would have the opportunity of seeing him 

come in and see how early or late he might be. He was right on time 

31


Mark Terry 

and the first impression was good. He was a burly bearded man 

looking every bit the part of a northern frontiersman. I could easily 

picture frost on his snow goggles and whiskers. He seemed to be a 

kind soul, a married man, father of two and was quite thrilled about 

the opportunity. He also had his own equipment which would spare 

the budget rental fees. I was convinced and welcomed him to the 

project. 

The last member of the team represented a flexible position. The 

First Assistant Director (commonly referred to as the 1st AD) 

would also wear the hat of the Production Coordinator in the field. 

If we had to, we could do without this role and I would assume the 

tasks, but since I was venturing into unfamiliar territory, it would be 

best if the paperwork of logging timecode, transferring media to 

hard drives, getting releases signed, etc., were handled by a 

dedicated crew member. 

For this position I also had one person in mind. A fixer from Alaska 

named Jackie Pearce. She had helped me on a previous location 

scouting mission in the Kenai Peninsula and her familiarity with 

icebergs, glaciers, and arctic eco-systems was impressive and hard to 

forget. Her friendly personality coupled with her extraordinary 

organizational and detail-oriented skills made her a deeply 

comforting member of the team. And on top of all that, she was a 

successful travel agent organizing tours of the majestic land that 

Alaska is. 

I wasn’t sure how she would respond to a request that would take 

her away from her business for nearly a month. She would clearly 

be the one person on the expedition who had travelled the farthest, 

virtually from one end of the earth to the other. As I explained the 

project, I didn`t even get to inviting her before she cried “Can I 

come! Can I come! Please! Please!” Well, that was easy. 

I warned her that her addition to the team was conditional upon my 

being able to raise the required financing to cover all costs. She 

understood and was confident in my ability to do so. Much more 

confident than I was. 

32




Mark Terry 

We began our historic journey in Toronto, Ontario, Canada, 

meeting at Pearson Airport to travel together on our various flights 

to Argentina. We had a lot of equipment and Damir was wise 

enough to bring a carnet with him. This is a document that itemizes 

each piece of equipment identifying it as ours for border crossings. 

Our sound man thought he could get away with his relatively 

smaller equipment kit without the expense of a carnet. 

And this represented the first of many challenges we had to face on 

this production. He was stopped by US Customs and was told some 

of his equipment - boom mike and Dolby recorder - could not enter 

the US as they believed we may sell it during our two-hour lay-over 

in Houston. They were about to include the other equipment when 

our fast-thinking Production Coordinator stepped up and claimed 

the extra baggage as her own. Since she had already cleared 

Customs, they let her take “her” bags that Steve was kind enough to 

carry for her. 

As a result, we managed to salvage most of the expensive gear, but 

had to surrender the boom and recorder to Steve’s wife who drove 

to the airport to claim them. All this commotion caused us to be late 

and we ended up racing through the airport in a desperate attempt 

to catch our first flight. Making this flight was crucial since our 

connecting flights were so closely booked together that if we missed 

one, we would have missed all of them. And if we missed all our 

flights, we would surely miss the boat leaving Ushuaia for 

Antarctica and the entire expedition would have been a bust. 

With much of the heavy lifting done, I sat down to the unenviable 

task of finalizing the budget. Travel by air and passage by ship was 

in the neighbourhood of $50,000, approximately half the budget. 

Other soft costs would have to be factored in to qualify the film for 

television broadcasts. Items such as production liability insurance 

and Errors and Omissions insurance are required by broadcasters in 

Canada and elsewhere and their respective costs are in the tens of 

thousands of dollars. 

I figured I could raise at least half the budget through a pre-sale to 

foreign and domestic broadcasters. I had a good connection with 

33


Mark Terry 

Bruce Cowley, director of programming at documentary, a new 

digital channel recently launched by the Canadian Broadcasting 

Corporation (CBC). Earlier that year, I helped him bolster his 

Canadian Content points with a sale of a crime investigation series I 

helped produce in 2007. The CBC had committed to 100 per cent 

CanCon for its network and digital channels and acquiring series 

that had a C Number issued by the Canadian Radio and Television 

Commission (CRTC) attached to it, helped meet this quota. 


AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA 

I began the arduous process of preparing a broadcast pitch package: 

a binder containing key information required by broadcasters to 

decide whether or not to commission a project before it’s made. 

Once completed, I needed to create the first-glance sales piece 

commonly referred to as a ‘one-sheet’ with which to introduce my 

project to prospective buyers. The one-sheet has on its front the 

poster of the film with a credit block listing the key personnel. On 

the back is a summary similar to the synopsis but with a much 

sexier style. Here`s what I had for The Antarctica Challenge: A 

Global Warning before anything was shot: 

One of the most beautiful places on Earth may also be the most 

deadly. 

Serving as a yardstick for the world’s dramatically evolving 

environmental issues, significant changes to the climate in Antarctica 

are having measurable effects to its own geography and wildlife. As a 

result, ice thousands of years old is melting and making a direct 

impact on the world’s sea levels and weather conditions. 

This one-hour documentary seen through the HD lens of awardwinning 

cinematographer Damir Chytil, CSC, will provide 

audiences with a rare and breath-taking glimpse of the Earth’s most 

unexplored continent. 

This documentary will look at these environmental issues through 

the experiences of a dedicated group of international scientists. 

Suicidal penguins, world flooding, marine life decline and grass 

34

35


Mark Terry 

growing in the world’s largest desert are some of the dramatic 

discoveries made this year that this film will profile. 

It takes a special kind of person to give up the comforts of civilization 

in order to save it. 

Will these scientific sleuths discover what’s needed to help mankind 

before it’s too late? 



This is….The Antarctica Challenge. 

Yes, I can appreciate how this might sound to the scientific or 

academic mind, the primary audiences of the film, but this is 

precisely the style that industry stakeholders have come to expect in 

the business of show business. I began my campaign of pre-sales 

with a flurry of emails introducing the project with this one-sheet to 

broadcast in Canada and abroad. Since this is the norm for 

independent producers, broadcasters are often deluged by such 

electronic pitches therefore getting a reply of interest is genuinely a 

good sign. 

I emailed the one-sheet to Bruce with a cover letter that was more 

personal than most. To my surprise, he got back to me almost 

immediately! We arranged to meet and whenever that happens 

getting some kind of deal is virtually assured. 

It was the summer of 2008 and the monolithic structure of the CBC 

headquarters in downtown Toronto sparkled more than usual that 

day. I got my visitor`s badge at security and Bruce came down to 

meet me. He escorted me up to his office all the while speaking 

excitedly about my project. I began to think I didn`t have to do 

much selling but was eager to present a case that would yield the 

highest broadcast license fee possible. I brought out my pitch binder 

and started to go through it page-by-page. Before I could do that, 

however, Bruce simply picked it up and turned each page glancing at 

them briefly as one would scan a coffee table book on photography. 

When he got to the last page he snapped it shut and handed it back 

to me. “Looks good!” he said simply. “We’re definitely interested.” 

36




Mark Terry 

Music to my ears. However, the CBC was not prepared to advance 

the funds, but would commit to a fee that would be payable upon 

delivery - satisfactory delivery. This meant that they would pay a 

pre-set amount, but only if they liked it. Knowing Bruce and my 

own filmmaking abilities, the risk was marginal, but still, I had to 

find alternate sources of financing in advance and use this 

conditional pre-sale as a revenue guarantee. 

Accepting this deal, I was now able to upgrade my sales package 

with the CBC and documentary logo. This is an important element 

of pre-sales as other broadcasters are more comfortable signing on 

once they see that one of their colleagues has done so first. 

I called Jackie to secure the flight arrangements for the four of us. I 

was using my credits cards to pay for this as I was feeling confident 

with the CBC deal in place. I also needed to act quickly as flights in 

and out of South America during the Christmas season get booked 

quite quickly. She was able to secure seats on all the flights – except 

one. The final connecting flight from Punta Reina to Ushuaia. She 

could get three seats on the last available flight, but not four. Panic 

began to set in. This could set off a chain of events that would result 

in missing our window to get to Antarctica altogether. We stayed on 

the phone frantically checking the websites of competing airlines 

looking for an alternate collection of connecting flights. No luck. As 

expected, December flights are booked as much as nine months in 

advance leaving very few seats even in September. After four hours 

on the phone we decided to give up. I was prepared to cancel the 

entire project and just before I did, Jackie squealed on the other end 

of the phone. 

“Someone just cancelled!” she exclaimed. 

One person, one seat. She booked it immediately before others on 

waiting lists could see it was available. One of the many advantages 

of being a licensed travel agent, she was able to have access to airline 

seating charts before the average person would know of any change. 

This was the first of many signs that assured me this project was 

meant to be. These signs became increasingly significant as obstacles 

threatening to thwart the production became increasingly significant 

37


Mark Terry 

as well. Another early sign was an email I received from Telefilm 

Canada. 

It was an invitation to attend MIPCOM, the world’s largest 

television market. It takes place every October in Cannes, France. 

Having attended the market the last seven years, I didn’t think I 

would be able to go this year since I was in pre-production on The 

Antarctica Challenge, but the email I received informed me of an 

offer from Telefilm to offset my registration costs and share a booth 

in their pavilion. With the CBC behind the project, I took this as a 

sign to go. I was confident presenting this film to the international 

community of television buyers would yield some quick territorial 

pre-sales and maybe even get picked up by a distributor. 



In speaking with the conference organizers, I inquired about getting 

some advance press in their trade publications and on their website. 

They asked for my press release, CV and related information and 

when they read it, they asked if I would be interested in making a 

film at the conference that year. 

It turns out they were introducing a program that would showcase 

half a dozen of what they determined were the most promising new 

directors that year. After announcing them, they would be asked to 

make a film without preparation, in three days, during the 

conference. MIPCOM would provide a crew to shoot, but the rest 

would be up to me. Not convinced this endeavour was the best use 

of my time, I thought the exposure it would bring me during the 

market would enhance my sales for the film so I graciously – and 

with some reluctance - accepted. 

Travelling to Cannes on a tight budget is never advisable, but even 

more so when attending a week-long sales market. Buyers are 

expected to be wined-and-dined, and they are, so it doesn’t bode 

too well for the seller who offers a Danish pastry at Telefilm 

Pavilion at 9:00 am. I booked a cheap flight and arranged to 

“couchsurf” at a nearby apartment. It was a short train ride from the 

Palais (the market’s convention centre) on the famous Rue de la 

Croissette. My only payment for this accommodation was a bottle 

of Canadian wine – a rare novelty in France – and some late-night 

38


Mark Terry 

chit-chat with my curious host. 

I arranged all my meetings - 25 of them! - beforehand, all by email 

and phone, making sure I would meet them at their booths so I 

wouldn`t have to pick up the tab in some très cher bistro. Most of 

the meetings went as expected – sounds like an interesting project; 

we’d love to see a screener when it’s finished. Fair enough, but I 

needed someone to jump on board now. I may have covered the 

flights, but I still had to pay for the ship, equipment rentals and 

other production-related expenses that were due sooner than later. 

At the end of the first day, I was pretty tired. A little from jet-lag 

after arriving the night before but mostly from the hectic pace of the 

many meetings I crammed into that first day. You always try to get 

as many meetings as you can that first day when they're wallets are 

still full. I went to a reception around 5:00 pm. These are always 

good to go to on a tight budget as the catering is both sublime and 

extreme. You can starve all day and make up for it at one reception. 

When I arrived, I saw a lot of press in attendance. No jokes about 

the media gathering at the watering holes of open bars, they were 

there because MIPCOM was announcing its Six Most Promising 

Directors of the Year – and I was one of them. 

I hadn’t checked my email all day so I missed the memo about the 

purpose of the reception. I simply heard there was one. Lucky for 

me, I went to the one expecting me. 

I was introduced and one of the first questions I was asked was 

what I was planning to shoot that night. That night!!! I reticently 

remembered they were expecting me to make a movie during the 

market, but had no idea the shoot was to take place at the Opening 

Night Party. Now, you don`t have to have attended a festival or a 

film market in Cannes to know what the parties are like. Extremely 

lavish, crowded with celebrities, red carpets everywhere – even 

leading you to the bathrooms – Cirque de Soleil performers 

entertaining anyone sober enough to look overhead, and bathtubs 

of champagne. 

I was introduced to my cameraman and sound person, both local 

pros, so I had to switch to my shaky French. 

39


Mark Terry 

“Qu’est-ce qu’on va faire?” my cameraman asked. What are we 

going to shoot? 

“Money shots,” I said. Without any pre-conceived notion of a script 

or concept – after all, that was the purpose of the exercise – I 

surveyed the festivities and concluded the one thing everyone had in 

common was money. They were either buyers or sellers sipping 

champagne side by side. 

I recruited teams of volunteers to act out skits lampooning sales 

meetings: stealing credit cards, renewing old acquaintances with 

complete strangers, compromising creative to make a sale, excessive 

celebrations of handshake deals, etc. 

The performers were not professional actors, of course, but they 

were accomplished actors, just the same. Everyone attending these 

markets are amateur actors to some degree. They come with a script 

to either pitch a project or reject them and when the desired result is 

not achieved, they easily slip into improv mode. As a result, my cast 

of highly-skilled amateur actors resulted in an engaging threeminute 

short film scored to the music of the John Kander and Fred 

Ebb classic from the movie Cabaret, Money, Money. 

As it turned out, the assignment was more of a challenge than we 

had thought – only half of the selected directors were successful in 

completing a film. With that out of the way, I was able to focus on 

the real reason I was there. My meetings the rest of week went 

better than expected as my reputation for being one of the top 

directors to watch came with a lot of industry trade media coverage, 

paving the way for enthusiastic one-on-ones with the buyers. 

One of the most promising was National Geographic Television. I 

met with three representatives during my meeting in their pavilion 

for about 20 minutes, about four times longer than the average 

meeting at MIPCOM. My main contact for follow-up was Ceire 

Clark, a young programmer at NatGeo`s UK headquarters in 

London. Although there was no commission offered on the spot, 

there was a very positive suggestion that there would be one, subject 

to providing some additional material on the project. 

40

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA 

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA 


Mark Terry 

I left Cannes with empty pockets, but with a briefcase full of 

business cards from broadcasters who were genuinely keen on 

acquiring the project if they liked what they saw in the end. I also 

had Ms. Clark waiting for samples of my previous work, a list of the 

scientists I plan to profile in the film and a summary of the climaterelated 

research and discoveries the film would showcase. It was 

beginning to look like this project had a life of its own. 

Having limited access to the scientists embedded in Antarctica, my 

list of scientists to interview for the film was limited to the 

Ukrainians at Vernadsky Station. Checking the route our ship was 

going to take along the Antarctic Peninsula, I saw we were going to 

pass by a British research station so I contacted the 

Communications people at the British Antarctic Survey (BAS) in 

Cambridge. 

The BAS is a branch of the Natural Environment Research Council. 

It has, for more than 60 years, undertaken the majority of Britain's 

scientific research on and around the Antarctic continent. BAS 

employs more than 400 staff and supports three stations in the 

Antarctic, at Rothera, Halley and Signy, and two stations on South 

Georgia, at King Edward Point and Bird Island. 

Our planned route, which, I should point out, is always subject to 

change based on Antarctica`s highly unpredictable weather 

conditions, would bring us near the Rothera research station 

providing us an excellent second science base location for the film. 

The first person I spoke with was Athena Dinar, Senior Public 

Relations and Communications Manager. As I expected, she was 

quite keen on a feature documentary film that would showcase her 

organization’s scientists on international television. She said 

arranging interviews in the field may prove problematic as many 

factors come into play that may make a shoot impossible: weather, 

sensitive tests and experiments, ship landings, schedules of the 

researchers, and other similar unpredictable conditions. 

Instead, she suggested I come to Cambridge and interview some of 

the scientists – leading world experts in their respective fields – who 

had just returned from extended stays on the continent. That 

41

42


Mark Terry 

sounded like an excellent idea! Not only could I start production 

with a relatively easy and inexpensive shoot, but I could also work 

in a meeting with my new friends at National Geographic to hand 

over the additional material they requested in person. 

Athena worked out a shoot schedule for me that included 

interviews with Peter Convey, senior research scientist; geophysicist 

Julian Scott; meteorologist Jonathan Shanklin; and climatologist 

John King. I quickly called Ceire Clark at NatGeo to tell her I 

would be passing by to drop off the material she had requested. Her 

excitement was quite encouraging and we booked a lunchtime 

meeting at her London office the day before my shoot in nearby 

Cambridge. I was additionally excited now that I had a few more 

names for her, all of them Brits. Surely, that would go over well with 

the UK programmers for National Geographic Television. 

I would need a cameraman while in Cambridge and in a quick 

Google search I found an experienced shooter named Marcin Styk 

living right in town. And, as a bonus, he was a Canadian citizen! 

This would come into play later as an important factor in applying 

for the film`s tax credits. 

Taking the night flight to London, I arrived at Heathrow Airport at 

11:00 am and grabbed a hansom cab directly to my noon meeting 

with Ms. Clark. 

I must say, when I arrived, it was not what I expected. The 

neighbourhood was not a business district, as we would expect in 

North America. Cobblestone streets seemed lined with more pubs 

than offices, but I found the address at Shepherds Building East in 

Richmond Way. The UK headquarters were equally unassuming. 

Walking through the open corridors, there was none of the usual 

security and pass cards I’ve come to expect visiting North American 

television offices. The main corridor emptied into a large, rustic 

open space with a coffee bar in the middle of the room. Secondhand 

couches were scattered throughout the room making it look 

much like a common room in a student dormitory. 

Ms. Clark greeted me and took me to the bar to get us some coffee. 

43


Mark Terry 

I felt instantly comfortable and uneasy at the same time. I sank into 

the couch fearful I wouldn’t be able to get back up and thought I 

was going to have a friendly face-to-face rejection. An in-person 

“thank you for your interest in National Geographic, 

unfortunately…” Why else meet in the noisy café? 

As it turned out, I was wrong. She reiterated her enthusiasm for the 

project and was excited by the names of the scientists with whom I 

had scheduled interviews. She was also impressed with the scientific 

data I planned to report in the film. All seemed in order; so how 

much of a commission would they be giving me? Not so fast, she 

said in so many words. 



Now they wanted to see samples of my previous work and some 

actual footage of my expedition. As well, she said that they would 

like to have input into the style of the film and I told her I would be 

happy to oblige; but if this was going to be an acquisition of a 

finished product rather than a commission of a project yet to be 

made, the final decisions would remain with me. She acknowledged 

that, but again assured me a decision to “get on board” with me 

before we left would be forthcoming. 

I awkwardly climbed out of the couch, thanked her for her time and 

left. I found another cab and went straight to the train station to 

catch the afternoon train to Cambridge. 

It was well before rush hour in London so traffic wasn’t that bad. I 

arrived at the train station in plenty of time and boarded my train to 

Cambridge. It was about an hour’s journey and I was surprised how 

quickly the industrial areas lining the train tracks turned to pastoral 

settings. When I arrived, I walked to the little Bed and Breakfast I 

had booked online in Toronto. It was a typically charming home, as 

you might expect, and my room was cosy – but more decorated for 

a clientele that seemed to be little old ladies: doilies everywhere, a 

ceramic teapot, lace curtains, an enclosed wrought-iron fireplace the 

size of a briefcase and a single bed with a huge embroidered duvet 

and way too many pillows. 

I quickly unpacked and freshened up and made my way to the 

44

45

46




Mark Terry 

British Antarctic Survey for my first day of shooting. According to 

my map, it looked like a relatively short walk and with nary a car in 

sight, I thought it best not to wait for a cab and start my journey on 

foot. Surely, one would come my way eventually should I decide I 

was running late or getting lost. Well, those two things did indeed 

happen and still, no cars in sight. The weather had become cold and 

the light drizzle had turned into a windy downpour of freezing rain. 

The cliché of British weather came to mind as I tried to find my way 

with shards of flying ice blinding my every glance. Perhaps a 

prelude of things to come in Antarctica! 

After a two-hour ordeal, I found the remote compound of the BAS. 

It looked like the Pentagon dropped in the middle of the Baskerville 

moors. 

My cameraman was in the lobby waiting for me. We were soon 

greeted by Athena who brought us to our first lab for an interview 

with Dr. Peter Convey. He introduced us to Antarctica’s largest land 

animal, a common flea. This creature, unlike penguins, is native to 

the continent. He also showed us some startling footage of a 

“greening” Antarctica – vast land masses with no snow and ice and 

with a new green vegetation growing over the now exposed rocky 

terrain. He also explained that penguin populations were notably 

declining due to a complicated chain of events starting with warmer 

temperatures and ending with a diminished food supply. I was fast 

building a shot list for my own expedition. 

Our next interview with Dr. John King took place in another lab, 

this one with more computer monitors than test tubes. Dr. King is a 

specialist in climate variability and change in the high latitudes of 

the Antarctic Peninsula. He too, offered some fascinating research 

on how wind and weather patterns were changing, bringing more 

open water to the frozen shores contributing to the melting of the 

land ice there. 

My own research revealed only that warming temperatures were 

causing the catastrophic ice melt in Antarctica. This was the first of 

many other dynamic impacts the warmer climate was to have on 

Antarctica, I would soon learn. A natural segue from Dr. King’s 

47


Mark Terry 

interview was one with Dr. Julian Scott who told me with great 

alarm that an enormous glacier in Antarctica – the Pine Island 

Glacier - was on the verge of collapsing. When it does, it would 

contribute a significant amount of fresh water suddenly – not 

gradually – to the Southern Ocean resulting in a disastrous increase 

in world sea levels. 

All this environmental calamity was causing significant concern in 

me. Not only was the data startling and terrifying, but more than 

that was the lack of reporting on this information. Nowhere could I 

find any media coverage of these findings, perhaps because there 

seemed to be no immediate threat to populated areas. It would be 

too late to report on the flooding and tsunamis after they hit. It 

seemed crucial to release this information now before the 

emergencies came to pass. 



My initial overview of the state of affairs in Antarctica seemed 

bleak. Was there no good news? Was this mysterious continent, 

known only for penguins and the South Pole, going to have an 

ecological disaster on a scale unprecedented in man’s history? And 

were we going to pay the price when Antarctica had its fatal 

meltdown? It was beginning to look that way, according to the 

scientists conducting research there. No-one else seemed to be 

interested in Antarctica; so we only had the word of the scientific 

community to go on. 

I was more encouraged than ever to make this film knowing that my 

documentary might be the only evidence available for people to 

actually see what was happening there. When I returned home in 

early December 2008, I checked the Internet once again for 

Antarctica media coverage related to International Polar Year – as 

before, nothing from Antarctica. We were leaving the day after 

Christmas. I dusted off some credit cards I keep aside for 

emergencies and completed the “financing” of the Antarctica leg of 

our shoot. 

Preparation was extensive and a little out of the ordinary. I packed 

the usual equipment for a production - cameras, hard drives, 

laptops, tripods, etc. – but also some unusual gear: hand-warming 

48


Mark Terry 

pads, parkas, UV goggles, strap-on metal “ice teeth” for my boots, 

food rations in the event we get stranded, a compass and a bottle of 

champagne to celebrate New Year’s Eve with my crew. 

Yes, it seemed that I was prepared for this exciting, yet dangerous 

journey and with no other broadcast journalist or documentary 

filmmaker making the trip ahead of me that year, I was truly going 

where there was no path and, unbeknownst to me at the time, about 

to leave behind a very unique trail. 

“For my part, I travel not to go anywhere, but to 

go. I travel for travel's sake. The great affair is to 

move.” 

Robert Louis Stevenson 

“Travels with a Donkey in the Cévennes” 

49

Book review: 

Heart of the Himalaya 

by Pat and Baiba Morrow 


50



Book Review: Heart of the Himalaya 


Whether you are an armchair explorer, old Himalayan hand, a techie 

or simply enjoy fine photography and a good story, ‘Heart of the 

Himalaya,’ by Pat and Baiba Morrow, is a book that will thrill you 

and make you want to travel there. 

For over 30 years Pat and Baiba have weaved their way through and 

across the Himalaya region exploring, developing lifelong 

friendships, inspiring and supporting humanistic and environmental 

causes, with wide open eyes, cameras and zeal. Pat and Baiba have 

made nearly three dozen journeys to the region and have spent time 

with and documented the people of Tibet, Nepal, and Bhutan, 

northern India and China’s Xinjiang Uygur and Sichuan provinces. 

They have also spent time with other cultural groups, including 

Hunzukut, the Balti of Pakistan, Kirghiz, Uighurs, and hill tribes of 

Nepal and Sikkim. 

Pat and Baiba Morrow have climbed Mount Everest (Pat was the 

second Canadian to climb it in October 1982 and would later go on 

to become the first person to successfully climb the Seven Summits), 

bicycled, trekked, and have often spent lengthy periods hunkered 

down with locals or on extended remote journeys. During these 

amazing trips they have amassed an archive of over 22,000 

photographs, sound recordings, and unique videography. 

During one of these trips in the winter of 2003, Pat and Baiba, on 

location in Ladakh to make a documentary film, mentioned the 

Ladakhi infatuation with hockey to a friend. The friend suggested 

they contact the NHL Players Association Goals and Dreams 

Program in Toronto. Several emails later, and a shipment of hockey 

gear was on its way to the children of Ladakh. The Canadians call it 

‘hockey diplomacy.’ The conditions in Ladakh are perfect and 

ideally suited to adopting Canada’s favourite winter pastime. Pat 

and Baiba Morrow eventually returned to film, “Hockey Night in 

Ladakh.” 

With their long-time friend and Bungalo Book publisher, Frank B. 

Edwards, they have created a cutting edge “Coffee Tablet” eBook. 

In this book the reader can simply click on an icon, embedded in the 

book, and watch a video clip, view a photography gallery, or listen 

51

52

Book Review: Heart of the Himalaya 


to an interview. This multimedia feature is something new and 

exciting in the publishing world and enhances the experience for the 

reader and makes for a thoroughly engrossing, almost intimate 

experience. 

‘Heart of the Himalaya’ uses extensive archives that document the 

Morrow’s unprecedented explorations into ancient cultures, esoteric 

rituals, lofty summits and the most sublime landscape on earth. I 

applaud Pat and Baiba Morrow’s achievements and I have been 

inspired by them for years; their journeys often fuelling my own to 

that sacred part of the world. 

‘Heart of the Himalaya’ is the real deal, created by an extraordinary 

couple in an extraordinary format and I wholeheartedly encourage 

readers to pull out their iPads, settle into a comfy place, and prepare 

for the journey of a lifetime! 

“…the facts of history all appeared to me like specimens in a 

herbarium, permanently dried, so that it was easy to forget they had 

once upon a time been juicy with sap and alive in the sun.” 

André Gide 

“The Immoralist" 

53

The Climb for 

Valor 


54

55



Giving until it hurts 

Eddie Tusker isn’t kidding when he says climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro 

forces you to get your ass in shape. As a former Army Ranger with 

a passion for personal tests, I have to admit I’m proud to have 

joined the ranks of those who know the feeling of euphoria that 

comes with arriving at the top of that magnificent mountain. But for 

me, reaching the top of Kili wasn’t just about challenging myself 

physically and mentally. It was about putting my money where my 

mouth is in my professional life that continues to be dedicated to 

providing vital support services which allow others the freedom to 

engage in their travel adventures. And what happened up there will 

speak to me for the rest of my life. 

The Climb for Valor was no ordinary journey of ambitious 

strangers. As my friend and colleague Eddie Tusker and his 

renowned Tusker team led our special fundraising climb, there was 

an infectious feeling as Special Forces soldiers, along with widows 

of Special Forces soldiers and a select number of civilians, including 

myself and Dr. Avi Patil, united from day one. 

We had come together for a common cause - to raise money and 

experience a sort of symbolic suffering in tribute to the families of 

those who suffer from the loss of their loved ones who have fallen 

whilst serving their country. Climbing Mt. Kili is no easy feat. It’s 

literally suffering every step of the way to the top. Together we were 

prepared. We were in motion. And when day two took an 

unexpected and critical turn, we came together, and we saved lives. 

On the second night at 13,000 feet, I could hear one climber 

coughing repeatedly. It’s a frightening sound in that environment 

when it doesn’t stop and the climber indicates he can’t breathe. 

Eddie Tusker and Dr. Patil worked together to assess the situation. 

With only 60% oxygen level, it was clearly High Altitude 

Pulmonary Edema (HAPE) – fluid in the lungs. Thankfully Tusker 

carries oxygen and a Portable Altitude Chamber which we used to 

stabilise the patient, since descent in the middle of the night was not 

possible. 

56



I immediately got on the satellite phone, personally calling and 

activating our emergency response network. Soon after, another 

climber had serious facial swelling, the result of an allergic reaction. 

Both situations were immediate and life-threatening. We were calm 

and we were all in sync, but the seriousness of the situation and the 

brutal truth about how fast Mt. Kilimanjaro can turn from inspiring 

to breath-taking – literally – was very real. That sudden reminder 

that lives can be lost during the greatest of adventures led to an 

adrenaline rush I’ll never forget. 

At first light, while the rest of the climbers continued to ascend, we 

worked through various scenarios and identified the best options 

for a safe and secure helicopter landing. Avi focused on the patients 

while our team coordinated the patient treatment and evacuation 

plan. Together with Eddie and his Tusker team, we cleared camp 

and moved rocks to create an improvised helicopter landing zone. 

As the helicopter landed and the dust flew up in my face, I’ve never 

been more proud of a project that I’ve worked on so hard to ensure 

it never fails. Both evacuations were necessary and successful, 

leading to restored health at home. With that knowledge, we got 

back to the adventure at hand and the final push to reach that 

summit. 

Like so many of the best adventures, this trip and our commitment 

to Eddie Tusker’s annual Climb for Valor began with a challenge 

and a handshake. As promised it delivered once-in-a-lifetime, 

breath-taking and awe-inspiring moments. 

Our collective faith in the adventure travel industry, and the power 

of adventure travel to change lives, has been energized; outcomes are 

not always foreseeable but are alleviated with proper forward 

planning. And the principles of the military remain key to my 

Ripcord partner, Ted Muhlner, and me. It has always been our duty 

to care from the very beginning. People who sacrifice for our 

freedom, and our health and well-being, should always come first. 

This is only the beginning... 

57

The 2015 Climb for Valor group began their ascent on February 17, 

and finished their descent on the 25th. Like all great adventures, this 

special fundraising climb for the Duskin & Stephens Foundation, was 

more about the journey than the destination. 

58

Adventure travel can take your breath away and inspire. Soaking-in 

the view, we were in awe and reminded of those who made the biggest 

sacrifice. “The loss of "Big Mike" Duskin and Riley Stephens and the 

thousands like them in our country is felt every day by boys and girls 

who now live without fathers, wives without husbands, siblings 

without brothers, and parents without sons,” Bochnowski explains. 

“Life takes a dramatic turn when a mother or father doesn't come 

home. Families struggle, and despite paying the ultimate sacrifice, they 

are too often forgotten.” 

59

We were in motion with our goal in sight. 

“Rather than simply writing big cheques to a variety of charities, 

Eddie Frank and I are also driven to be involved in causes in a very 

hands-on way. This includes travel philanthropy - engaging in travel 

as a means to demonstrate commitment and as a method of giving 

back. Looking up at that mountain, I wouldn't have it any other 

way,” says Bochnowski. 

60

Climbers include two wounded vets as well as three widows of fallen 

soldiers. 

“We joined Tusker Trail in support of the Climb for Valor up Mt. 

Kilimanjaro to benefit the Duskin and Stephens Foundation,” says 

Bochnowski. For the first-ever Climb for Valor, Frank himself led the 

10 dedicated climbers up Mt. Kilimanjaro. “When Eddie asked we 

didn't hesitate. We made this climb a symbol of what these families 

have endured.” 

61

“Climbing Kilimanjaro is a celebrated adventure travel endeavor. It’s 

estimated that more than 40,000 men and women between the ages 25 

– 75 attempt the climb each year. Reaching the top of Kili is on many a 

sophisticated and established traveler’s bucket list, but climbing for a 

cause makes the experience that much more powerful.” Tom 

Bochnowski. 

62

Pofu Camp ~13,000 ft. – afternoon prior to evacuation. Eddie Frank 

has said it perfectly. “No adventure is a true adventure without serious 

challenges.” Around 2:30am, on day 4 of a 9-day trek at 13,000 ft., 

one climber began to experience uncontrollable coughing. Working 

together with Eddie Frank, former Army Officer and Redpoint 

Resolutions VP Tom Bochnowski, and Dr. Avi Patil (Redpoint 

wilderness medical expert and Stanford Medicine-affiliated physician) 

began life-saving emergency medical response and evacuation services. 

63

“Thankfully Tusker carries oxygen and a Personal Altitude Chamber 

which we used to stabilize the patient throughout the night, since 

descent from that location at night would have put the patient at 

greater risk. We put the climber on oxygen and inside the altitude 

chamber – an airtight bag that, by means of a foot pump, increases the 

pressure in the bag to that of a lower altitude. It’s a life-saver when 

you can’t evacuate someone immediately. Pressure was maintained by 

foot pump, operated personally by Tom, Eddie, myself, and our guides 

Shabani, Simon and Kombe – all trained by Eddie as High Altitude 

First Responders,” says Redpoint’s Dr. Avi Patil. 

64

Bochnowski describes that following morning, “At first light, while 

the rest of the climbers continued to ascend, we worked through 

various scenarios and identified the best options for a safe and secure 

helicopter landing. Avi and the Tusker team focused on the patients 

while our Redpoint team coordinated the patient evacuation plan. We 

heard the sound of the helicopter and thought we were set, but it flew 

right by us at first.” 

65

Fellow climbers Tom Bochnowski and Dr. Avi Patil worked hand in 

hand to ensure the successful helicopter evacuation of the two 

climbers. “Together with Eddie and his Tusker team, we cleared camp 

and moved rocks to create an improvised helicopter landing zone. I 

used an orange signal flag to help wave the helicopter in. On the 

helicopter’s next pass, we made it work,” Bochnowski explains. 

66

According to Tusker’s Eddie Frank, “We only have one or two 

evacuations a year and they occur because of life-threatening 

emergencies. Emergencies that are immediate and now. There is zero 

room for hesitation or error. Redpoint Resolutions founders Ted 

Muhlner and Tom Bochnowski are two guys who understand 

commitment,” he explains. 

67

After stabilising the first climber with HAPE during the night, a 

second climber showed signs of extreme allergic reaction to an 

unknown element. Early the following morning, Redpoint evacuated 

both climbers off the mountain and transported them to a local 

hospital for treatment. “When Ted Muhlner and I say we’re going to 

do something, we do it. We take great pride in supporting Eddie Frank 

in his efforts to provide the best care for his climbers and trekkers. Ted 

and I come from the military, where your word and your handshake 

mean everything. Both evacuations were necessary and successfully led 

to full recoveries.” 

68

Redpoint’s Stanford Medicine-affiliated physician Avi Patil, who was 

also climbing, assisted with critical medical decisions that helped 

prevent a bad outcome. “The teamwork and the level of care and 

commitment provided to my climbers and me during these recent 

evacuations has only further cemented my team’s partnership with 

Redpoint and their Ripcord Travel Protection program,” Eddie Frank. 

“These days I split my time between emergency rooms at both 

Stanford and the Santa Clara Valley Medical Center while also serving 

as a member of Redpoint’s team, staying on call and making critical 

decisions related to medical services and evacuations for our clients. 

There is never a dull moment responding to diverse emergencies,” Avi 

explains. 

69

“After the evacuations, we came back together for a common cause - to 

raise money for the Duskin & Stephens Foundation and give a united 

tribute to the families of those who suffer from the loss of their loved 

ones who have fallen while serving our country. Climbing Kili is no 

easy feat. It can be a slow, steady, painful trek to the top and come 

back down safely,” explains Bochnowski. “Some places are so 

powerful you just stand in awe and can’t say much,” he continues, 

“this space is very meaningful to Eddie and it was important for me to 

experience the spiritual heart of Kili..” 

70

“Eddie was right about riding the electric buzz towards the summit. 

We were clearly proud to be part of something much larger than 

ourselves or even Mt. Kilimanjaro,” says Bochnowski. “The Climb 

for Valor and our partnership in adventure travel celebrates the 

freedom travelers have to enjoy their personal passions and adventures 

worldwide,” Bochnowski says. “We are grateful this freedom exists 

and we strongly support those who have sacrificed so much for our 

country, including veterans, first responders, and their families.” 

71

Contributors 

Credits: 

All articles and images are the copyright of the their 

respective authors. Ripcord Adventure Journal is grateful to 

all our writers and photographers for permission to publish 

their work. 

Images on pages 1, 55, 61, 66, 73, 76, 77 and 82 courtesy of 

Mark Terry; pages 9 and 11 courtesy of Megan Hine; pages 

13, and 20 courtesy of Fearghal O' Nuallain; pages 28 and 29 

courtesy of James Grieve and the John Rae Society; pages 6 

and 136 courtesy of Pat and Baiba Morrow; pages 142 and 

143 © Moizhusein | Dreamstime.com; pages 148 - 159 

courtesy of Thomas Bochnowski and Ripcord Rescue Travel 

Insurance. 

158 

72

Editorial Team 

Editor in Chief 

Tim Lavery is the founder of Ripcord 

Adventure Journal and the World 

Explorers Bureau, the agency for 

world-class adventurers and explorers. 

Series Editor 

Shane Dallas is a professional 

adventurer, travel blogger and speaker 

with an unquenchable passion for 

travel. 

Design & Quality Lead 

Paul Devaney is a freelance consultant 

in UX/UI Design and Development. 

Paul has a strong background in 

aerospace and as a mountaineer. 

Technical Editor 

Dr. Terry Sharrer is a former Curator 

at the Smithsonian and current editor 

of the online publication, Tagline 

(Medical Automation). 

73

Mark Terry 

Mark Terry is a Fellow of the Royal Canadian Geographical 

Society and a Fellow of The Explorers Club. He has been a 

filmmaker and broadcast journalist for more than 25 years, 

specializing in science and nature documentaries. 

He holds the rare distinction of having made a film on every 

continent on earth. Perhaps best known for his polar 

documentaries, The Antarctica Challenge: A Global Warning 

and The Polar Explorer, winners of 30 international film 

awards collectively. 

He was the first filmmaker to cross the Northwest Passage 

via the Prince of Wales Strait and was present in Antarctica to 

report the first recorded measurement of the ozone hole 

decreasing in size on January 9, 2009. 

74

Fearghal O' Nuallain 

Fearghal has a passion for geography and adventure. An 

experienced educator, writer, and active geographer he has 

captivated audiences with stories about cycling around the world, 

walking across Rwanda, tramping through a Transylvanian winter 

and hiking, hitching and biking across the Balkan peninsula to 

explore an ancient Roman road. 

Fearghal founded Revolution Cycle with inventor Simon Evans to 

complete the first Irish circumnavigation of the globe by bike. The 

expedition covered 31,000 km over 18 months, passing though some 

of the highest, driest and intriguing places on the planet. 

Fearghal’s most recent journey followed the Via Egnatia - an ancient 

Roman road - across the Balkan peninsula. Following the footsteps 

of crusaders, legionaries and Ottomans he hiked, biked, & hitched, 

over 1,000 miles from Istanbul to Albania. 

75

Publishers 

Ripcord is the adventure travel arm of Redpoint Resolutions, a 

travel risk and crisis response company specializing in 

comprehensive global travel solutions. They serve government 

agencies, corporations and organizations that require employees to 

travel or live abroad. The company is owned and operated by 

special operations veterans and physicians who practice wilderness 

medicine and understand the challenges of medical and security 

emergencies in remote environments. 

Ripcord’s global intelligence, evacuation services, essential benefits 

and 24/7 operations center has your back no matter where your 

adventures takes you. 

The World Explorers Bureau (WEB) is a speaking and events agency 

that represents 70+ explorers and extreme adventurers, men and 

women who have lived with cannibals, dived the deepest seas, 

rowed the oceans, cycled the globe, lived underwater, climbed the 

highest mountains, explored unmapped caves, walked, skied and 

cycled to the Poles, walked in space and continue to explore the 

unexplored. 

WEB Speakers inspire audiences around the world with captivating 

tales of their adventures encapsulating themes which include 

pushing boundaries, leadership, teamwork and motivation. 

76

Contributors 

“Never forget that life can only be 

nobly inspired and rightly lived if 

you take it bravely and gallantly, 

as a splendid adventure in which 

you are setting out into an 

unknown country, to face many a 

danger, to meet many a joy, to find 

many a comrade, to win and lose 

many a battle.” 

Annie Besant 

77

Published by Redpoint Resolutions & World Explorers Bureau 

www.ripcordadventurejournal.com

Ripcord Adventure Journal 1.3 Second Edition

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