Goretex Arctic Challenge.indd - Humber Inflatables

ARCTIC CHALLENGE
ADVENTURE
1000
Miles North
The full story of the GORE-TEX ® Arctic Challenge
The media asked us ‘why?’ And i replied: ‘we want to show
the masses that RIBS are the most capable, most adaptable
craft ever invented; furthermore, one of the world’s greatest
marine environments neighbours our own uk coast and we
want to see it. We also want to prove that you only need a
small but capable boat in order to fulfi l your dreams.’
With such ideals
in mind, the
RIBs to the Limit
GORE-TEX Arctic
Challenge was born … Like all
good things it started with an
idea. Over the years my love for
the high, rugged coastlines of
Scotland and Ireland had stirred
within me a growing desire to
taste the dramatic coastline
which a thousand years before
had been the Vikings’ most
northerly stronghold. True, I’d
had the privilege of cruising
Norway’s eastern seaboard
some years before, but never
the mountain-fringed fjords
and shores belonging to this
country’s great west coast.
Finally, during the latter
quarter of 2010, I decided to
voice my idea of a voyage up
the west coast of Norway to
Paul Lemmer, who I knew had a
similar desire, and right enough,
he bit like a hungry pollack!
Next up was my new-found
friend Pete Goss. I had met
Pete through a mutual friend
and had gone for a day’s sail
with him during the summer.
When I posed the question as
to whether he fancied trying
his hand at some offshore
ribbing, his response was wholly
positive. Since getting to know
Pete, I have found him to be

one of the most affable, goodnatured
gentlemen I have ever
met.
With the three of us now
on board, plus my big-wave
hunter musician friend Julian
Hutson-Saxby agreeing to sign
on the dotted line, we had the
core of a strong team. It was
time to research the course
thoroughly, shortlist boats,
engines and equipment and
create a plan that would interest
both sponsors and media.
These considerations were
duly followed through during
meetings at the London Boat
Show, and by the time the long
winter days began to give way
to the fi rst signs of spring we
had the support and enthusiastic
backing of both Humber RIBs
and Suzuki Marine.
With these key players on
board, we could then look
further afi eld to the equipment
suppliers and so duly
approached our good friends
Icom, Navico and Ullman with
regard to their joining the now
fast-moving project.
The media soon wanted to
know what our trip to the Arctic
Circle was in aid of. To my relief,
they were not deterred when I
stated it was not for any great
humanitarian cause or charity,
but rather to further substantiate
what could be achieved in a
small boat – particularly a RIB.
The media always have diffi culty
in understanding what a RIB is.
Much of my time in the leadup
to and during the Challenge
proved to be connected in some
way to educating the press to
the fact that ‘tubes alone don’t
make the dinghy’. I failed on
more than one occasion in my
quest, but still knew that this
voyage was an opportunity to
spread the good news about
RIBs to the wider public.
With Ed Gould, of
Southampton-based PR
company Carswell Gould, eager
to join the team we had our very
own PR guru, and thanks to his
company’s excellent efforts we
soon not only found ourselves
awash with media interest
but also had confi rmation
that TheDaily Telegraph was
committed to covering the
Challenge, actually dedicating
one of their key feature writers
to join the ever expanding crew.
The celebrated Miss Bryony
Gordon, then, was now offi cially
on board!
Wisely, Suzuki had suggested
that they would like to have
one of their chief technicians
join the crew. An excellent
suggestion, I thought, and
when they informed us of their
intended choice both Paul and
I knew we had exactly the right
man on our side. Mark Beeley
was someone we appreciated
from previous challenges to be a
highly experienced offshore RIB
helmsman, whose knowledge
of mechanics, fi tting out and
Beyond Midland

ARCTIC CHALLENGE
ADVENTURE
The Harbour, Fair Isle
general boatmanship was fi rst
class. It was comforting to know
Mark was involved and he
quickly impressed all of us with
his outstanding dedication to
the project.
Andy Warrender, a close
friend of Pete’s, was likewise
34
someone who was to prove
essential to the entire project.
A director of W. L. Gore,
an adventurer and highly
accomplished offshore
kayaker, Andy loved the idea
of joining the Challenge and
helped secure his company’s
The cave we swam through on Fair Isle
WITH BLUE SKIES ABOVE
AND THE BEAUTY OF THESE
AGITATED SEAS PILING
HIGH ALL ABOUT US, THIS
WAS RIBBING AT ITS BEST!
agreement to take up the
opportunity of becoming the
event’s title sponsors. With
the fantastic support of this
blue-chip sponsorship lineup,
which now included the
likes of Ullman seats, Icom
radios, Lowrance and Simrad
electronics, Nite Watches,
SeaSafe life jackets and the
backing of marine insurance
experts Towergate Mardon, the
project was really beginning to
fl y.
The GORE-TEX® Arctic
Challenge was formalised
in May at RIBEX 2011, and
Pete Goss did the show, and
its sponsors Suzuki Marine,
the great honour of formally
opening the event. It was a
great occasion and enabled the
Challenge team to congregate
together for the very fi rst time.
The boats were also displayed
within the tented village of
the show, and though not
completely fi nished in terms
of their fi t-out, they looked
absolutely stunning.
In the weeks that followed,
Mark Beeley took on the lion’s

share of the rigging work,
liaising with the boatbuilder,
Humber RIBs, as well as other
suppliers, with the full support
of Suzuki being extended in
the process. In addition to the
workload of logistics and PR,
the project needed someone
to grab it ‘by the horns’ and
pull all the remaining elements
together to ensure every detail
was ticked off the ‘to fi nish’ list.
Thanks to Mark, this was done
with great effi ciency, and by
the time the team’s shakedown
cruise came, we were 90 per
cent there.
The 120-mile round trip
along the south Cornish coast
provided a useful opportunity
to get to know the boats, now
named Lundy and Tresco, and
to get a feel for such things
as their balance and overall
performance. Thanks to this
evaluation, it became clear
that the twin 90hp engines
rigged to the boats needed
to be raised and the pitch of
the props changed. These
adjustments would aid fuel
effi ciency and general handling.
Though we did not have the
benefi t of experiencing how
the RIBs might handle in
testing seas, the jaunt allowed
us to familiarise ourselves
with their various systems and
afforded the opportunity of
getting crewmembers properly
acquainted with one another. It
was also a great excuse to stay
the night aboard my favourite
destination: the classic motor
cruiser, Wando Lady. Kevin,
the vessel’s owner, kindly had
everything prepared ‘just so’
for our early evening arrival in
Mylor yacht harbour, ensuring
our night’s stay aboard this
grand little ship was a real treat.
Cocooned snugly within Wando
Lady’s sumptuous teak-lined
cabins, the Arctic Circle seemed
a long way away.
The remaining days rolled
off the calendar at alarming
speed, and before we knew
it the time had come for the
boats to be trailed and fl ights
to be caught. Pete, Paul and
Mark were the ‘advance guard’,
trailing the boats on the long
haul up to Wick, with the rest
of us fl ying in on the day before
‘kick-off’. Malcolm, the Wick
harbour master, was a true
gentleman and could not have
been more helpful. His wife
set aside a small room in the
harbour offi ce for us to work
from and meet members of the
press – she even went to the
trouble of laying on home-made
cakes and endless supplies of
GORE-TEX® Arctic RIB
Challenge, o� cial
crew members
Lundy
Julian Hutson-Saxby
Paul Lemmer
Ed Gould
Hugo Montgomery-Swan
Tresco
Andy Warrender
Mark Beeley
Pete Goss
Bryony Gordon
GORE-TEX® Arctic RIB
Challenge, o� cial
sponsors
GORE-TEX®
Humber In� atables
Suzuki engines
Ullman seats
Navico electronics (Lowrance &
Simrad)
Icom radios
Nite Watches
Musto clothing
Towergate Mardon insurance
SeaSafe Life jackets
Stratum Five trackers
Navionics cartography
35

ARCTIC CHALLENGE Spectacular bridges connecting islands are common in Norway
hot tea to sustain us and our
media guests. In addition to
interviews and photo calls,
the team benefi ted from a
full safety briefi ng. The Daily
Telegraph’s chief H&S offi cer,
who attended the pre-start
meeting, stated it was the most
thorough and best-planned
project he had witnessed in
25 years of working with the
newspaper. All the team were
in good form and felt excited by
36
ADVENTURE
the prospect of our voyage now
being only a few hours away.
We retired to bed after a few
drams and a meal, but the sun’s
unwillingness to fully set felt as
if it was beckoning us to put to
sea before the new day had yet
dawned.
We awoke with the sun’s
gentle light dancing and glinting
with silver splendour on the
protected waters of the bay
beyond the harbour walls. Only
a breath of breeze ruffl ed the
sea’s surface. Conditions were
perfect, and as we cast off and
waved farewell to the wellwishers
ashore, our hearts were
fi lled with anticipation for the
adventure that lay ahead.
The run of coast from Wick
to the northernmost tip of
Scotland comprises great sea
stacks, caves and cliff faces that
are home to many varieties
of seabirds, including puffi ns,
guillemots, gannets, cormorants
and razorbills. Seals are
numerous in this area too due
to the strong tides ripping east
and west through the Pentland
Firth which bring with them
great shoals of herring and
other fi sh. Upon stopping to
drift on the tide at the eastern
end of the Firth in sight of
Scapa Flow to take ‘elevenses’,
we made acquaintance with the
local seal colony and watched
with glee as they swam like
silver mini subs about our
hulls, to then resurface with
a snort and a look of quaint
surprise. We spent some time
exploring these sights before
fi nally leaving the Scottish coast
to cross the Firth’s brooding
waters and press on up the
eastern seaboard of the Orkney
Isles.
We were all impressed by
just how far the Orkneys
actually stretch. For mile after
mile they accompanied our
northerly path, their low-lying
lee affording us smooth blue
seas that then gave way to a
long gentle swell which set in
from the west as we cleared the
protection of the treeless isles.

ARCTIC CHALLENGE
ADVENTURE
We were now in the open ocean
for the fi rst time, perfectly
alone, without another vessel in
sight. With the boats skipping
along, their wakes streaming
out astern, it felt as if they too
sensed we were now truly on
our way.
After an hour or so of 25-knot
steaming, we began to close
Fair Isle’s southernmost skerries
and encountered our fi rst rough
water with Lundy and Tresco.
Slithering and sliding our way
through the curling crests and
heaping swells of the overfalls,
this sleigh ride gave these
Humber RIBs the chance to
show their true merits amid
adverse seas, in a style that
only heavy, high-bowed, deep-
V-hulled RIBs can. With blue
skies above and the beauty of
these agitated seas piling high
all about us, this was ribbing at
its best!
Upon clearing the skerries,
we stopped to take in the view
of the great promontory of
Burness with its overhanging
cliff face and dark ravines, but
as we drew closer it was clear
that the latter’s long, dark caves
actually stretched right through
the cliff face from south to
north. Pete and Andy were the
fi rst to don their drysuits and
slip over the side into the cold
green water. We couldn’t resist
taking their lead, so Julian,
Bryony and I also plunged
in to swim against the tide
and waves that were fl ooding
toward us through the opening
to the dark cave ahead.
The Musto HPX suits we
had been supplied for this
expedition now came into their
own. Lightweight, easy to don
and allowing total freedom of
movement, I was impressed by
their effectiveness and comfort.
I’ve worn a good many drysuits
over the years, but these suits,
which in fact were co-designed
by Pete Goss himself, were
quite the best I’ve used. We
swam hard, kicking our feet as
we went. Then, lifted by rushing
waves that doused us with their
glittering crests, we fl oated over
swirling kelp beds and on past
rocky ledges frequented by tiny
puffi ns that stared at us through
cautious, blinking eyes. Inside
Cave on Shetland
the cave, below its great vaulted
ceiling, our voices echoed eerily,
and as we paddled and swam
our way through its length, I
tried to imagine the fury of this
potential hellhole during the full
throes of a winter gale.
Upon emerging from the
darkness and into the light,
we were met by the RIBs and
ordered to haul ourselves from
the water and into the boats
as quickly as possible so as to
avoid delaying any further in
the rock-strewn waters beneath
the cliff face.
The natural harbour known
as North Haven is a delightful
destination and evidently
represents the main ‘jump
off’ point for the folks who
come to Fair Isle to visit its
bird sanctuary sited on the hill
overlooking the little bay. It was
here on the quayside that we
sat in the sunshine to eat lunch
and muse over our antics in the
cave around the headland.
After all the rush of our
prepping and departure, here
in the warm sun and sea air
I began to feel very lazy and
would have gladly taken an
afternoon snooze if it wasn’t
for the fact we needed to crack
on. Alas, the time to make
ready came all too swiftly after
lunch, and soon we were once
again coiling mooring lines and
making secure the kitbags in
readiness for our fi nal leg that
day.
The 35-mile run up to the
Shetlands in the late-afternoon
sunshine was a very pleasant
affair. Trimmed to perfection,
the RIBs coursed along, riding
the rolling westerly swell with
graceful ease. We were lucky
the conditions on this section
were favourable, though,
CONDITIONS WERE PERFECT, AND AS WE
CAST OFF AND WAVED FAREWELL TO THE
WELL-WISHERS ASHORE, OUR HEARTS
WERE FILLED WITH ANTICIPATION FOR
THE ADVENTURE THAT LAY AHEAD.

Jullian at the wheel whlie Paul navigates
because by the time we reached
Lerwick, poor Bryony was
busting for a ‘lady pee’. She
had not yet mastered the art
or mustered the courage to ‘do
the honours’ over the transom
of the boat, so by the time we
drew alongside the marina
berth in Lerwick, the poor girl
was nearly popping!
A small welcome party
awaited our arrival on the
quayside; it was heartening to
see smiling faces looking down
at us as we stepped ashore.
But there was little time for
In the rough stuff!
socialising, as time was pressing
for us to get the boats fuelled in
readiness for the following day.
The chore of fuelling the RIBs
was wearisome and lengthy as
no marina-side petrol pump
was available. This situation
therefore meant we had to
ferry our 25-litre fl exitanks to
and fro from the petrol station
some two miles up the road
before decanting the elixir into
the main tanks via a funnel. If it
hadn’t been for the generosity
of Keith, our landlord from the
Alder Lodge Guest House, who
tirelessly drove us in his van
back and forth for some three
hours or so, we would have
been at the job all night long!
Thanks to his willing spirit and
trusty van, we had the job done
just in time to catch a bite to
eat before the town shut for the
night.
With 230 miles of open
ocean to cross the next day, our
plan had been to get a good
start in the early hours of the
morning. But upon consulting
with Lee Bruce, Pete’s expert
US-based weatherman, it was
his considered view that we
should delay our departure until
about 1700 hours. This was
because an area of low pressure
was hovering about 100 miles
offshore in the Norwegian Sea,
causing conditions that would
make the already lengthy
crossing unnecessarily testing
on both our fuel and physical
reserves if we chose to crack on
regardless. A delayed departure
is always a frustrating time
and usually descends into
time-killing pastimes such
as museum visiting, eating,
window-shopping and thumb
twiddling, all of which I hate
except for the museum visit …
and, of course, any element that
involves eating! At last, though,
the time came to don our HPX
Mustos, check our Nite watches
and ease ourselves into the
Ullman seats. With radio checks
done and Channel 69 selected
on the Icoms, we were at last
ready to cast off – Norway
bound.
The afternoon sun bode
well as we steamed past
the steep cliffs of southern
Bressay and Bard Head before
then heading due north to
sight Bressay’s extraordinary
bird colonies. Thousands of
seabirds, including guillemots,
skuas, gannets, herring gulls
and razorbills, as well as the
odd tern, all swirled about our
heads, chattering and crying
in protest at our harmless but
intrusive viewing of their cliffhanging
habitat. We watched
the spectacle in amazement,
grateful that we had resisted
the urge simply to strike out
offshore to begin our marathon
run east without paying them a
visit.
My thoughts are always
mixed before a long run. I’ve
done a lot of them and these
days I tend to feel a sense of
anticipation mixed with mild
dread. The latter is associated
with the monotony a long haul
can hold. Plus, if the going
gets rough, I don’t like getting
beaten up much. But that said,
39

ARCTIC CHALLENGE
if a voyage becomes a battle I
also know the importance of
gritting my teeth and wearing
a smile – not just for my own
benefi t but for the sake of
others. To counter the aforesaid,
I’ve learnt to not overlook the
importance of ‘treats’. By this
I mean biltong (my favourite
on-board delicacy) and other
such niceties too, such as nuts
and oranges. Nibbles and tasty
morsels to reward oneself and
the crew are essential, and
not only serve to prevent the
energy levels from dropping
but also do much to keep the
spirits up of all those aboard.
The crossing was to take a little
over nine hours, and thanks to
the atmospherically inclined
wisdom offered by our distant
RIBs to the Limit team member
Lee Bruce, we were blessed with
increasingly smooth seas the
further east we progressed. At
the midway point, a hundred
miles or so offshore, we heaved
Lundy and Tresco to and broke
out the supplies. Celebrating
our ‘sea of the midnight sun’
surroundings and our offi cial
crossing of the North Sea
into the charted waters of the
Norwegian Sea, we ate and
drank as our little boats drifted
with engines silent amid the oily
swell. To add to the festivities,
Julian took to the water with the
carbon-fi bre travel guitar he had
brought with him. This amazing
acoustic instrument, thanks to
its construction and man-made
materials, suffered not by being
semi-submerged in seawater
40
ADVENTURE
while being played, and nor
did it complain when used as
a paddle for Julian to make his
way back to the boat. Would you
believe it … it didn’t even go out
of tune! But can you imagine
the coastguard helicopter pilot
reporting the scene? ‘This is
surreal: there’s seven folk out
here eating and drinking, having
a picnic aboard two tiny boats
a hundred miles offshore. I can
see them as clear as day thanks
to the midnight sun …But wait
a minute, you’re not going to
believe this …There’s another
guy fl oating on his back in the
water, playing a guitar!’
A little after this halfway
respite, we entered right in
among the oil and gas fi elds that
feed our nation’s, and others’,
rapacious appetite for fossil fuel.
This is the ‘land’ of towering
rigs adorned with fl aming gas
plumes amid a sea which,
though it is home and workplace
to thousands of people, still
suffers from an ominous sense
of loneliness and isolation. I
counted 25 rigs at one time, the
furthest shining like stars on the
horizon in the half-light.
The colour of the sea
changed as the sun dipped to
just above the horizon before
immediately lifting again
into the sky. Skimming our
way over the smooth, wavefree
swells, the surface of the
water enwrapped our watery
world in the strange colours
of dawn: orange, then pink,
and sometimes even mauve.
With just 50 miles left before
we reached our destination we
could see faint clouds fringing
the horizon. This was a sure sign
that the Norwegian coastline
was looming, and indeed, with
every fi ve miles or so we now
gained, it was possible to see a
little more clearly the dark forms
of distant mountains lurking
behind the misty curtain of lowlying
cloud.
What was a rugged 1D image
soon became 2D followed by
the full depth and splendour
of a coastline that included
headlands, winding fjords,
towering mountains, deepforested
valleys and offshore
isles. This was Norway and we
had arrived!
Our run into Måløy was
spectacular, and as we entered
the fjord our course was
bordered by a huge cliff line
that featured a frozen waterfall
suspended down the full height
of its mighty face. The scent in
Jullian plays guitar 100 miles offshore
the air had now changed from
the salty ozone of the sea to the
warm and reassuring smells of
trees and turf. Passing beneath
the imposing profi le of the
town bridge we soon found the
marina berths and identifi ed
our waterfront digs for what
remained of the night. It was
now 3.30am.
Having made the boats fast,
unloaded our kit and dragged
ourselves to the hotel, we
checked in, stumbled to our
rooms and crashed. After 21
hours on the go and with just
four hours to get some ‘shuteye’
before we got under way
again for our next leg up to

ARCTIC CHALLENGE
ADVENTURE
Kristiansund, sleep came
readily to all the crew that
morning.
The day was bright and a
fresh breeze blew in from the
north-west as we sat on the
pontoons eating an al-frescostyle
breakfast. Following the
long run from Lerwick, it was
important to check all the
kit, make a few small repairs
and ensure both boats were
fi t for sea. Having made our
acquaintances with the harbour
offi ce staff and posted our
customs forms, it was time to
once again cast off and head on
up the north end of the fjord for
about 15 miles to a little village
which boasted a waterside
petrol pump. The ease of this
procedure was a far cry from
the lugging and hauling of the
fl exitanks back in Shetland,
hence, before Julian had barely
suffi cient time to wipe the
relish from his lips after wolfi ng
down the tantalisingly scrummy
beefburger he’d ogled at the
fi lling station’s food bar, we
were ready for ‘the off’.
The day’s run up to
Kristiansund of 110 miles was
not a lengthy passage so much
in terms of miles, but thanks to
the weather, with its ever more
determined driving rain and
stiff north-westerly wind setting
in, the miles seemed to drag
by. Thankfully, the cloud was
free enough not to obscure the
mountain scenery altogether,
but the colours and vistas
were largely lost to the grey
fullness that hung heavy about
us from one horizon to the
next. If ever there was a time
when we all appreciated the
Ullman seating technology, it
was now. The hulls of our brave
little ships were taking some
real punishment in the short,
steep seas, despite their deep-V
profi le, though this wasn’t to
prove the hardest run we were
going to have to endure over the
course of the voyage.
The two teams – which
consisted of Pete, Bryony, Andy
and Mark aboard Tresco and
myself, Paul, Julian and Ed
aboard Lundy – plugged on
through the gloom, peering
through the visors of our Gecko
Shetland gannet colony
helmets as the spray fl ew high
and wide of the yellow-hulled
RIBs. Apart from the odd fi shing
vessel, and on one occasion
the menacing profi le of a
Norwegian naval submarine
forcing its great bulbous nose
through the water, the sea was
a lonely place that day. Even
the homesteads ashore looked
isolated and distanced from
civilisation. I tried to imagine
the scene in the depths of
winter and wondered how the
people here, amid the winter
snow and ice, managed to get
supplies, when their homes
WHAT OTHER FORM OF
CRAFT JUST 6 METRES
LONG WOULD ALLOW YOU
TO TRAVERSE AN OCEAN TO
A DISTANT LAND ONE DAY,
AND THEN TAKE YOU INTO
THE DARK RECESSES OF
A SEA CAVE, OR NOSE UP
ONTO A BEACH, THE NEXT?
Midnight in the Norwegian Sea

appeared so far from any
proper village or town.
I think we were all happy to
make the old whaling station
of Kristiansund. Admittedly it
wasn’t more than a few timber
houses balanced on a rocky
shore, but it offered a hot bath
and the chance to open the
wine bladder lovingly stowed
at the transom of Lundy.
Alcohol costs a small fortune
in Norway – perhaps it’s the
country’s one downside – but
it was certainly the reason why
we stocked up well and brought
suffi cient ‘feel-good nectar’
with us to supply our needs
for the duration of the voyage.
Thanks to the generosity of
Paul’s friend Lars, we had an
entire house to ourselves, and
a very nice one it was too: very
Scandinavian with its timber
cladding, wooden fl oors and
large lower balcony. We enjoyed
a great meal around the table
that night, fi lling our tums with
hot potato mash accompanied
by generous servings of smoked
salmon. It was a lot of fun and
served to bond the crews yet
closer.
The next day once again
began gloomy, with drizzle in
the air and a grey-white-capped
sea awaiting us beyond the
protection of the sound. After
leaving the house shipshape
and reloading our kit into
the boats, we made way and
weaved a course out through
the low-lying isles that provided
a good deal of lee. We were
bound for the town of Rørvik
some 150 miles north. As we
were to discover, however, in
our desire to take the scenic
route and cut an inshore path
through the network of fjords
wherever possible, though we
gained fl atter seas, this option
did add considerably to the
mileage: by some 30 to 50
miles or so on average.
The morning was uneventful
save for our lunch stop in a
shallow creek, where on a
falling tide we darned nearly
had the boats aground.
Fortunately, Tresco had been
anchored off a little further out
than Lundy, so we were able to
use the former to tow Lundy’s
hulk off the sandy bed upon
which she’d settled. It was a
close shave but not as close as
that which was to come.
After our rain-sogged, openair
lunch we once again took
the inner course, but on this
leg of the voyage our path was
littered with reefs and shoals
of every kind. If anyone doubts
the value of electronic plotters,
then they should have been
sat in the navigator’s seat of
Lundy or Tresco that particular
afternoon, for converts to the
modern age they would have
become! The ability to zoom in
on the ‘live’ chart, to the point
where it was possible to literally
steer around the plethora of
underwater rocks while keeping
the power on at a full 22 knots,
was thrilling. Swinging the
wheel in rapid succession from
hard to starboard then over
to port, this was high-speed
navigating at its best and really
showed the strengths of not
only the Simrad and Lowrance
GPS plotter technology, but also,
of course, the critical detail of
the Navionics cartography, the
accuracy of which was true to
the tiniest detail.
Emerging unscathed, and
having enjoyed the adrenalin
rush, it was a pleasant sight to
see the fi rst few breaks in the
cloud as we entered the day’s
fi nal bracket of 50 miles. The
real beauty of our surroundings,
with all its rich colour and aweinspiring
greatness, was now
coming to the fore, and with the
clouds lifting, the full height and
majesty of the mountains was
becoming even more apparent.
We entered Rørvik tired but
happy that the day had gone
well and the boats had once
again done us proud.
We slept well that night
in our waterside cabin
accommodation, and with good
weather forecast to be coming
our way, coupled to our much
anticipated crossing of 66
degrees north, the following day
promised to be very special.
The two teams were now
fully in their stride, with each
settled into their own pace and
approach to the daily challenge.
Nevertheless, I was not the
only one to see this as having
a negative side to it also, for
the camaraderie being forged
between crewmembers was
increasingly limited to those
aboard the same boat. This,
then, was quite different to
the chemistry that would have
propagated if the decision
had been to undertake the
expedition with all eight
personnel aboard just one large
RIB. You could say this was
inevitable and simply human
instinct, but nonetheless, it
meant each person’s Challenge
experience was also being
shaped by the particular team
and boat they happened to be
on.
As we weaved our way
northwards via the deep-water
passes of these great highlands,
with their ancient forests and
mountain peaks crowned
brilliant white with snow, the
sunlight enriched the colour
and depth of the vistas. Coupled
to the mix of scents in the air,
our senses were delighted by
every natural beauty you could
imagine. Ed Gould’s dedication
to fi lming and photographing
this constantly amazing
experience was professional to
the last, despite the fact that
he was losing more and more
sleep to the growing demand
from Facebook, Twitter, blogs
and the uploading of info onto
www.ribstothelimit.com. My
respect for Ed, his work and
his character was growing;
he might have been a RIB
greenhorn at the start, but he
sure was earning his stripes
now.
Our reaching the Arctic
Circle came as something of
a surprise to me, and several
others too, I think. As the
boats plied their way up the
coast’s vast complex of fjords,
mountains and islands, we
found ourselves entering a large
sound, open to the ocean on
43

ARCTIC CHALLENGE
its western side and boasting
a centrepiece constituting
a treeless isle crowned by a
strange monument atop its
highest point. Then I heard the
shout ‘This is it!’ And indeed it
was – we had fi nally reached 66
degrees north, the centre of the
Arctic Circle!
It was a great thrill to climb
up onto the little island that
bore such signifi cance. It was
a wonderfully lonely place,
windswept and shaped by the
elements. Out here in the open
expanse beyond the protection
of the mountains and open
to the prevailing winds and
seaborne storms, the Arctic
fl ora clung to the rocky hillock
with a diminutive beauty that
stood in stark contrast to the
enormity of what had preceded
it. Tiny conifers intimidated
into crouching low to the
earth as ground cover, brightly
coloured little orchids and
other fl owers, swaying grasses
and hardy heathers were all
in their own way as beautiful
as the mighty forests. The
atmosphere of this special place
was heightened not only by its
sights but by its sounds too:
the shrill and repetitive cries
of an oystercatcher warning
its young of our presence, and
then, away on the far shore,
44
ADVENTURE
Outriders escort us
into harbour
Fish drying racks
the musical clatter of jangling
bells swinging from the necks
of a small herd of goats as they
delicately picked their way along
the rocky seashore all added to
the moment amid these unspoilt
surroundings here on the Arctic
Circle.
After an hour or so here,
TECHNICAL DATA
HUMBER 6.3M ARCTIC
Overall length: 6.30m
Internal length: 5.1m
Overall beam: 2.34m
Internal beam:1.35m
Number of air chambers: 7
Number of persons: 12
Maximum payload: 1700kg
Boat weight (std specifi cation): 600kg
Maximum engine HP: 200hp
CE design category: B
Draught in water at rest: .45m
Height of boat on trailer: 2.7m
Deadrise V @ transom: 22°
CHALLENGE BOATS NOW FOR SALE
WAS/RRP £80,000 NOW £59,995
SAVING £20,005
with Lundy and Tresco
waiting patiently at rest in the
shallows of the island’s only
cove, we once again boarded
the boats to continue on our
northerly heading bound for
Sandnessjøen. The mountain
scenery continued to be
dramatic, but occasionally the
wild country was also broken
by little villages of timber-built
houses and farms, where the
latter were cutting their small
but verdant fi elds of meadow
grass for hay. Even though
this coast is fed by the Gulf
Stream, the season up here in
these northerly climes appears
to be a little over one month
behind the UK’s. The fl eeting
scent of freshly cut grass in
the air provided an unusual
and pleasant addition to our
waterborne experiences that
day. Just beyond the farmland
of the low-lying islands of
Hamnøya lies the island of
Midland. If there was one place
we passed that week where
I could imagine myself living
and being wholly content
with all that I surveyed, it was
Ed performs!
here. Just a mile or so long and
surrounded by mountains and
sea lochs, this idyllic little isle,
with its mix of oak woodland
interspersed by small areas
of well-kept grassland, was
an enchanting realm all of its
own – a fairy-tale paradise
nestled amid the surrounding
mountain grandeur. About 10
miles beyond Midland, a huge
mountain can be sighted, one
which dominates the scenery
for miles around. It is in fact an
island, however, and where the
well-appointed coastal town of
Sandnessjøen can be found,

ARCTIC CHALLENGE
ADVENTURE
The team
TECHNICAL DATA
SUZUKI DF90 OUTBOARD
Multi-point sequential electronic
fuel injection
Lean-burn fuel control
Maximum output: 90 hp (66.2 kW)
Cylinders: Inline 4
Displacement: 1502 cm3 (91.7 cu in)
Shaft length/weight: L: 508 mm (20”) /
155 kg X: 635 mm (25”) / 158 kg
located amid the softer, less
dramatic features on its western
side. Several thousand feet high
and ridged by a vast expanse
of bare, weather-beaten granite,
this mountain likewise provides
a shadowy lee for the waters
of the fjord that fl ow past its
eastern shoreline. This fjord is
a relatively narrow but deep
stretch of water towered over
on both shores by the most
enormous cliffs and giant rock
faces. On our ‘inland’ route up
to Sandnessjøen, therefore, it
was fantastic to slice a course
through the mirror-calm darkgreen
waters, the wakes of the
two boats shattering the perfect
refl ection of the giant features
that bore down upon us from
either side.
Our night on Sandnessjøen,
with its quiet, middle-class,
tree-lined streets, was very
pleasant and made all the
more memorable thanks to the
local journalist who attached
himself to us for the evening.
His knowledge of English
history, politics and culture was
remarkable and I felt my whole
session with him over dinner
consisted of ‘Is that really so?
… I didn’t know that … Well I
never …’ Evidently, in order to
keep his vocal chords well oiled,
he also managed to work his
way through most of my bottle
of single malt which I’d bought
back at Aberdeen Airport. I’d
heard of the expression ‘cheap
talk’ before, but it certainly
didn’t apply here!
Julian, who had been
responsible for all the
accommodation booking on
this trip, had done us proud
once again, booking us into
a perfectly adequate and
inexpensive hostel for the
night a short distance from the
marina. Frequented by a variety
of travellers, it reminded me
how useful these places are –
ideally suited to the wandering
ribster who’s cruising on a
budget. So, having refuelled
the night before, courtesy of
the waterside pumps down in
the town’s marina, we awoke
refreshed and ready to get a
good start on our fi nal leg of
170 miles to the Lofoten Islands
the following morning.
The day dawned with clear
skies and a fresh breeze.
The deep-blue hues of the
tidal waters were matched in
their richness by the green
mountainsides as we sped our
way northwards past the islands
of Løkta and Tomma. It was a
little way beyond this area that
we sighted what I thought was
a huge bank of white cloud sat
behind the mountain range
on the mainland away on our
right. To our amazement, this
transpired not to be a bank of
cloud at all, but rather a huge
ice fi eld that stretched for miles
across the near horizon. Iceblue
glaciers and some of the
highest waterfalls I have ever
seen fringed the coastline here.
Weaving our way through the
maze of islands, we soon found
ourselves in a narrowing fjord
that at its head featured a small
bridge built over a fast-fl owing
section of water that was
evidently the drain-off point
from this fjord into the one
beyond. We gingerly edged our
way under the bridge’s arches,
aware of the need to avoid
damaging any of the boats’
aerials, before then entering
the river-like waterway with its
shallow stream bed, boulders
and eddies. The grassy banks
and rhododendron bushes
Crystal waters, perfect beaches

‘… YOU’RE NOT GOING TO BELIEVE THIS …
THERE’S ANOTHER GUY FLOATING ON HIS
BACK IN THE WATER, PLAYING A GUITAR!’
drifted by at head height as
we proceeded downstream
at 5 knots, with the engines
trimmed as high as possible to
avoid fouling the propellers.
Small wooden jetties on the
water’s bank welcomed our
safe emergence from the
gentle rapids, so we made
fast alongside a couple of
aluminium-hulled skiffs and
strolled ashore for a moment
to pause and take in the
view of our surroundings.
There evidently was a fi shing
community here, and indeed,
when we found the little local
shop, it was full of supplies
suited to the outdoor enthusiast,
including those who favour rod
and reel. But before departing
we met two Spanish students
who were cycling around the
globe. They were so humble
about their achievements,
and going on appearances
alone perhaps few would have
Vikings!
imagined that the lycra-clad
cyclists were on a mission
far greater than the swarthy
collection of survival-suited
mariners who’d trudged ashore!
If you, like me, had previously
imagined that Norway’s
northern shores were simply
home to a rocky wilderness
and frequently frozen hostile
seas, then think again. The
beaches we passed by, and
indeed explored, this summer’s
day rivalled in every way
everything you would associate
with the seas and shores of
the Caribbean. Composed of
brilliant-white sand mixed with
crushed seashells, the beaches
that fringe the shorelines of
the isles both north and south
of Bodø are havens of unspoilt
beauty, washed as they are by
the clearest, most sparkling
turquoise waters you could
imagine. Understandably,
perhaps, it was with some
lethargy that we pulled
ourselves away from these
delightful spots, but once again
such experiences reminded
me of the special nature of our
boats. What other form of craft
just 6 metres long would allow
you to traverse an ocean to a
distant land one day, and then
take you into the dark recesses
of a sea cave, or nose up onto a
beach, the next? Only a RIB –
and a great RIB – like the boats
of our Challenge team’s choice.
Looking out across the open
sea to the horizon where our
journey’s destination lay – the
town of Svolvaer on the Lofoten
Islands – the view to the islands
appeared by eye to be no more
than 15 miles or so. But when
we checked the distance on
the GPS I was amazed to see
they were over 40 miles away!
Such was the size of Lofoten’s
mountain ranges that scale and
distance took on new meaning.
River running from fjord to fjord
This sea was the one Julian
had been waiting for – Ed too,
I think. Neither of these guys
were of the mind to let the old
hacks like me and Paul remain
behind the wheel; they were
champing at the bit, wanting to
get at the rough. Julian’s chief
desire in life is to be out in the
biggest sea imaginable – he is
the ultimate big-sea predator.
This next stretch may not have
been throwing up big swells
and killer waves but the curling
crests crowned short, sharp
seas that were severe enough
to infl ict serious damage to the
boats if mistakes were made at
the helm.
47

Grandeur of this nature we witnessed every day
The ride was punishing,
with the RIBs taking a real
hammering. It was reassuring,
though, to witness the strength
of these Humber hulls and
the integrity of the ancillary
equipment, especially the
electronics. Cold blue seas ran
up in endless succession toward
our brave, bright-yellow-hulled
craft, as they punched and
fought their way through the
menacing waters. But one-third
through the journey amid the
Atlantic fetch, we went the
leeward side of a reef that was
marked by a small lighthouse.
As we steered a course around
the jagged outcrop and its
storm-beaten tower, we spied
a golden eagle, its great wings
outstretched as if commanding
the elements to do its bidding.
This wild world was its world
and it was lord of both water
and wind. We felt humbled in
its presence as it fl ew on the
gale with effortless grace off our
port side, over the breaking seas
and then away from view.
The horizon failed to draw any
closer, and at times it seemed
as though we were making little
progress. The Gecko helmets
were great at keeping the fl ying
spray out of our eyes, but the
helmsman couldn’t cope with
the time it took for the visor to
clear and then regain suffi cient
forward vision. Julian by now
looked like a red-eyed rat. His
impetuous ‘over the parapet’
style meant he preferred to
be lashed in the face by fl ying
seawater than be bothered with
the entanglements of a helmet!
I could tell he loved it, though,
revelling in the opportunity
of working the wheel and
throttle to the full extent
these conditions demanded.
Meanwhile, I wondered how
Bryony was faring aboard
Tresco, on this fi nal battle
with the elements. Gradually,
though, the mountains on
the far horizon steadily grew
more distinct and, bit by bit,
the profi le of the coast became
clearer, with islands and
headlands emerging out of the
late-afternoon haze.
The RIB welcome party
that came out to meet us and
escort us as outriders to our
berths alongside Svolvaer’s
quayside made our arrival
feel all the more special. We
then celebrated by throwing
ourselves, HPX-clad, into
the freezing waters of the
harbour – with Pete doing
backfl ips accompanied by
raucous laughter and calls
for repeated high jinks. It felt
great to have made it. I speak
for the whole team, I’m sure,
when I say we truly felt a great
sense of accomplishment and
gratitude to all our sponsors
and supporters for backing the
project in the extraordinary way
they did. After all the months of
planning and organising, it was
they who made the fi nishing
line a reality. Additional thanks
must go to the efforts of
Carswell Gould, the expedition’s
PR company and the boats’
Stratum Five trackers: by
the time we’d made the
fi nal destination of Svolvaer
we’d collected thousands of
supporters from all around the
world who were avidly following
our every trackable move and
blog update.
With a fi nal day to spare
before our fl ight home, Paul’s
friend Tommy, our host and
local guide, arranged for us to
meet a locally based marine
scientist and professional
photographer who kindly
agreed to take us on a tour of
the local isles with a view to
catching a sight of the killer
whale pod being studied. It
was a glorious day, with not a
breath of wind and 24 degrees
of warm sunshine. Without
a hundred or more miles to
concern ourselves with we had
the day at our leisure and so
ate and drank a hearty lunch
after a good night’s rest in the
best waterside hotel in town.
Later that afternoon we set
Paul on the Circle
off on a voyage of 15 miles
northward toward a 70-milelong
fjord located west of
Stormolla. This winding inlet,
bordered by woodland and
breathtaking mountain scenery
on one side and low-lying white
sandy island beaches the other,
was one of the most serene,
peaceful and beautiful spots I
have ever had the privilege of
49

SUMMER CRUISE
TRAVEL
visiting in all my years of coastal
cruising.
We waited expectantly,
in silence with our engines
motionless, the surface of the
sea unruffl ed and without
movement. Then, breaking
the surface of the deep, dark
waters, about 500 yards off our
stern quarter, we caught our
fi rst glimpse of an orca, its long
black telltale dorsal fi n rising
from the abyss with a precision
and effortless motion that only
a true hunter in stealth mode
can deliver. Hunting salmon and
the plentiful supplies of herring,
this particular pod had been
patrolling these waters since the
early spring. According to our
guide, the herring stocks were so
ARCTIC CHALLENGE FUEL DATA
DAY
1*
2
3
4
5
6**
TOTALS
50
TRESCO
DATE
TUES 28TH
WED 29TH
THURS 30TH
FRI 1ST
SAT 2ND
SUN 3RD
FROM
WICK
LERWICK
MALOY
KRISTIANSUND
RORVIK
SANDNESSJOEN
abundant here that these whales
had become highly selective
in their eating habits. It had
been discovered that they were
actually choosing to delicately
nip off the heads of the herring
so as to be sure they only ate the
body and tails of these fi sh. In
fact, in some parts of the fjord,
divers had found the sea fl oor
littered with silvery herring head
deposits where orca feeding
frenzies had taken place in the
depths above.
As the minutes passed, more
and more black fi ns appeared
in a long line either side of
us, accompanied by frequent
steamy exhalations. It was
apparent these creatures were
working the length of the fjord
TO
LERWICK
MALOY
KRISTIANSUND
RORVIK
SANDNESSJOEN
SVOLVEAR
N/MILES
128
22.6
133.8
163
101
156
903.4
AVE/SPEED
23.3
22.4
23.7
22.7
20.2
22
22
Killer whales and still seas
in much the same way a fl otilla
of fi shing boats might. When
one whale came across its prey,
the others would break rank to
rush over to join the swirling
mass of thrashing bodies and
tails engulfi ng the hapless shoal.
For at least an hour we idled
up the fjord, with the killer
whales often swimming right
alongside and even underneath
the boats. Among the pod, we
saw a juvenile, just a few weeks’
old, swimming with its family,
learning the art of survival and
ocean supremacy.
This extraordinary experience
brought the GORE-TEX® Arctic
Challenge to a fi tting close,
but not before one last special
moment which occurred on our
MAX SPEED
36.9
33.9
36
35.3
29.3
37.9
35
HOURS
5:30:10 AM
9:40:16 AM
5:38:32 AM
9:40:23 AM
5:02:47 AM
7:05:43 AM
42:37:51
FUEL USED
222
396
211
260
173
255
1517
*Total fuel here was 336 l however 4 publicity/fi lming trips were carried out in wick prior to departure using 44 l and the 70 l fl exi tanks were also fi lled at this re-fueling
** Again total fuel here was 327 L however this includes a trip for lunch with the return crew and the whale watching trip after the main event was complete using approx 72 L
evening’s run back to Svolvaer.
It was the sight of a majestic
white-tailed fi sh eagle fl ying
directly above our heads, his
claw talons and distinctive hook
beak clearly visible against the
setting sun, his plaintive cry
echoing through the ravines and
burning yet another wonderful
memory upon my mind, joining
the so many I already had and
hope never to forget.
HMS
www.ribstothelimit.com
AVG LTR PER NM
1.7
1.8
1.6
1.6
1.7
1.6
1.7