Thomas Ulrich, an experienced adventurer, reflects on the changing landscape of exploration, emphasizing that genuine adventures still exist today. He recounts his perilous journey from the North Pole, his philosophy on the essence of adventure, and the importance of returning safely. Ulrich critiques the modern focus on speed in climbing, advocating for a deeper appreciation of nature. He shares personal challenges faced during expeditions, highlighting the risks and emotional struggles that define true adventure.
Rediscovering Adventure in the Modern Era
Thomas Ulrich, a seasoned adventurer, reflects on the evolution of exploration. In the past, climbers conquered towering peaks, skied down from the world’s highest mountains, and journeyed across tumultuous oceans and deserts inhabited by perilous wildlife. But do genuine adventures still exist today? The answer is a resounding yes.
In 2007, I embarked on an extraordinary journey from the North Pole alongside Norwegian explorer Börge Ousland. We retraced the footsteps of the renowned polar explorer Fridtjof Nansen, traveling to the northern Siberian archipelago of Franz Josef Land before sailing to Norway’s North Cape. Remarkably, no one had achieved this feat in over a century.
The Essence of Adventure
My expedition, which spanned over a hundred days, earned me the title of Adventurer of the Year from National Geographic in 2008. However, the climbing community has shifted its focus predominantly to speed. While I respect everyone’s pursuit of their passions, I personally don’t see the value in racing against a stopwatch. Speed is only essential in situations where safety is at stake or when food supplies are dwindling. Moreover, there’s one more motivation for urgency.
That motivation is the need to return home safely amidst biting cold. Throughout all my adventures, I’ve never fixated on the time; that could be a dangerous distraction. A true adventure is only deemed successful if you return in good health, a sentiment shared by extreme climbers like Alex Honnold, Dani Arnold, and the late Ueli Steck. The achievements of these climbers are remarkable, yet the loss of my friend Ueli, who tragically passed away near Mount Everest in 2017, still haunts me. It raises an essential question: Does what we do truly hold meaning?
For me, a fulfilling adventure involves savoring the beauty of nature without the pressure of completing it in a specific timeframe. Climbing legend Reinhold Messner famously remarked, “We go where one could die, in order not to die.” However, I challenge that notion. Why should adventure be synonymous with life-threatening situations? It seems irresponsible. My desire is to live and thrive, with a simple hike in the woods holding just as much potential for excitement as constructing a wooden cabin in the wilds of Alaska or Canada.
In 2006, I aimed to become the first individual to traverse the North Pole from Siberia to Canada solo. Unfortunately, everything went awry. I encountered a fierce storm shortly after departure, causing a massive ice floe beneath me to break apart. I was faced with my worst nightmare, prompting me to activate my emergency alarm for the first time. Regrettably, Russian rescue teams didn’t arrive until four days later due to the severe weather. Such challenges are an inherent part of any adventure.
During those harrowing days, I experienced some of the worst moments of my life. Just two weeks prior, I had attended a parents’ meeting for my daughter in Switzerland, and now I found myself stranded on a disintegrating ice floe, torn between the fear of drowning or being devoured by a polar bear. Panic attacks ensued, followed by anger and self-doubt. Ultimately, I felt profound sadness, leading me to cut my tent.
In doing so, I severed my only means of shelter. My daughters had decorated the tent’s interior with their drawings and encouraging words, which I cherished. Assuming I might never return, I tucked their artwork into my parka, wishing to keep them close to my heart in the event of my demise.
Survival was paramount. Although it may sound heroic, it was anything but. I cried and screamed, realizing that my own willpower was crucial for survival. At that moment, I had a weapon, a .44 Magnum, intended to ward off polar bears. In hindsight, I was fortunate to have made it out alive.
How realistic is the threat of a polar bear attack on an ice floe? In extreme conditions, anything is possible. On one expedition in Greenland, I foolishly brought only a lightweight carbon shovel, a decision I soon regretted as a storm loomed. This experience taught me to always carry two robust shovels to ensure we could dig in for shelter.
Yes, digging in is essential to weathering storms. We endured a fierce tempest for one night, and the following day, we trekked for twelve hours to reach a decommissioned radar station. By chance, we encountered a Belgian guide and his clients there and spent five days together in the relentless storm. However, upon returning to civilization, I learned that the Belgian guide had tragically fallen into a crevasse in front of his clients, a grim reminder of the risks we face.
Hans Kammerlander recently lamented that only Reinhold Messner remains from his circle of climbing companions, as the rest have lost their lives. This stark reality influenced my decision two decades ago to steer clear of extreme mountaineering in favor of vast icy expanses. I vividly recall an experience in Argentina’s Cerro Mayo, where an ice avalanche nearly claimed my life while rappelling down an 800-meter ice wall.
In my lectures, I often share the advertisement by Sir Ernest Shackleton, who sought volunteers for a dangerous Antarctic crossing: “Seeking volunteers for a dangerous journey. Low wages, bitter cold. Return uncertain.” I can’t help but feel I was born in the wrong era. Nowadays, I take out insurance policies before embarking on expeditions and book flights to my starting points—an entirely different world from Shackleton’s time when explorers set forth without any assurance of return.
Do I admire Shackleton? Absolutely. I also hold great respect for Fridtjof Nansen, who was the first to cross Greenland and later ventured toward the North Pole. He is celebrated as a pioneer who paved the way for future Arctic and Antarctic explorations. His spirit of adventure is one I would have loved to share.
Are there still adventurers like that today? Certainly, individuals such as Ousland, South African Mike Horn, and perhaps myself continue to embrace the call of exploration. Yet, it’s vital to remember that even minor ailments can pose life-threatening risks. A few years ago, I suffered from frostbite on my face during an Arctic expedition that became infected, leaving me looking like I had encountered a swarm of wasps. If I hadn’t…