Arctic Ousland

Polar adventurer Børge Ousland meditates best amidst the pack ice and the polar bears. And he has no retirement plan.

"I DO HAVE this adventure bug in me," says Børge Ousland. The sun is shining on the Briskeby district in Oslo – a place of ciabatta rolls, bone-dry Chablis and young people leading safe, fulfilled lives, where the bicyclists wear helmets and wait patiently for the light to turn green. Into this orderly scene strides Herr Ousland, with high-pumping knees and a head full of death-defying expeditions, some past and some future. He swings a long, jeans-clad leg over the hedge, hurdles a bench and sticks out an open hand. "Børge Ousland," says Børge Ousland, removing a black Norrøna fleece jacket and adjusting the massive Sector timepiece on his wrist.

THERE IS SOMETHING NEW about Børge. Or something old. He looks leaner, and his face seems to have been carved out of some icy or flinty material found only between 85 and 90 degrees latitude. In setting set up a restaurant interview we exchanged numerous text messages. One of them read: "Hi, I'm at the North Pole till the end of April. Call me at the beginning of May." Wandering the ends of the earth is what Børge does for a living. As he orders apple juice and a veal fillet with mushroom sauce, let us quickly recap: The Børge Ousland saga began in earnest in 1990. Along with Erling Kagge and Geir Randby, Børge skied 800 km from Canada's Ellesmere Island to the North Pole. In 1994 he repeated the feat alone, and such expeditions soon became a full-time job. Since then Børge has traversed every Arctic-like expanse that the earth has to offer. For the most part he has gone solo, covering vast distances without resupply – or unsupported, as they say. In 2006, however, he marched to the North Pole in the dark of winter with companion Mike Horn. No one had done the like before – and no wonder. The polar bears were out in force and the adventurers had to sleep in black trash bags to keep their equipment free of condensation.

OVER THE WINTER Børge went to the South Pole with Prince Albert. He also presented lectures, arranged trips for private clients who were willing to fork over €22,900 to ski one degree of latitude in the icy wastes, and was followed around by a Chinese film team. Børge is 47 now. He is Norway's and perhaps the world's most accomplished living pole seeker. But where will it end? Can a polar explorer retire? Might he end up in a home for the aged, making daily rounds of the courtyard with two wheelbarrow tires in tow, gazing longingly into the middle distance in search of a horizon and onrushing polar bears? How long can Børge Ousland keep it going? "I hope I have many years to go," he says. "What I do is great fun. As long as a hunger remains for new projects and challenges, I see no reason to quit." "How is your body coping with the stress?" "So far so good. I feel I'm in good shape. I'm strong and I exercise every day. There have been some frost injuries, but all things considered my body has held together pretty well. Obviously, it makes sense to chalk up the very toughest treks before you're 60." "But are there any left for you?" "I want every trip to be something new. I'm on the lookout for new challenges and goals. Right now I'm planning a trip to Patagonia with the climber Thomas Ulrich." "But don't you get tired of endless ice and receding horizons?" "To some people I suppose the journeys can seem repetitive, but they are quite different from one another. I build up a solid knowledge of what I'm doing." "An expert in pack ice?" "Yeah, I'm a specialist. I think you should be as smart as you can be in your chosen field. Look at Stein P. Aasheim – he does a bit of everything. I would rather be good at the one thing."

THE LURE OF THE POLES is strong as Børge Ousland travels from speech to speech signing books and reeling in sponsors. But when the pulka is packed with biscuits and audio books (Helge Ingstad, J. R. R. Tolkien and Jan Vincents Johannessen), and the expeditionary goal is all staked out, then nothing comes between the man and the ice. "When that helicopter leaves, you know it's gone. There is no way back. Emergency transmitters and satellite phones give a false sense of security. Even if you are able to make contact with the world of people, it may take days for help to arrive. That knowledge makes you alert. You pay attention to the water channels, the cracks in the ice and any sign of polar bears. Eventually you find a rhythm. You can enter a deep meditative state. Your internal dialogue changes, and you reach levels of awareness you didn't know existed." "What levels have you found?" "This might sound grandiose, but you discover your true foundations," says Børge Ousland. "You become one with the elements. I find that I stop brooding about the big questions, that just being is the answer. This is not a clearly defined idea. It is more of a feeling." The life of the restaurant where we are sitting is certainly far from the foundations of self, and is no help with the big questions. "What is it like to come home?" "I have never had problems coming back. I think some people have the unrealistic expectation that life will be changed and everything will be big and wonderful. But what counts in life are the simple things. Like getting out of bed with a smile. Most of us are privileged and have no grounds for complaint. I believe many of our worries are self-inflicted."

BØRGE OUSLAND'S success rate might lead some to assume that he plans only journeys he's sure about – but no. Børge Ousland has had to break off expeditions due to frostbite; he has had to call in resupply drops; he has failed to reach Mt. Everest. "You can't count on succeeding at everything," he says. "These expeditions are the extreme of what is possible. When you're in situations like that you have to take chances. You have to dare. No matter how much you prepare yourself, you can turn up in the wrong place at the wrong time." Out on the ice, Børge Ousland finds frequent use for skills he acquired in the Norwegian Special Naval Forces and as a saturation diver in the North Sea. "When you dive," he explains, "you always have to analyze potential outcomes. 'What will happen if I do this or that?'" In 2003 Børge Ousland stood just a few vertical metres from the 8,850-m summit of Mt. Everest. On Børge's website you can catch a little video clip of the out-of-breath polar adventurer. With split lips and a heavy heart, he makes a frank recognition: "This is as far as I come." "It was a truly great decision," he says now. "I didn't have enough oxygen to reach the top. I would have risked running out."

"DID YOU FEEL BITTER over not reaching the summit?" "I would have preferred getting to the top of Everest, but I think it's important to see things in larger perspective. Expeditions can take on oversized proportions." "You have two kids. Are these trips worth the risk?" "Obviously it would be sad to grow up without a father, but aren't there many people who have managed it?" "So you're not afraid that something will happen?" "My duty is to come home. I am more worried that I won't be there for Max or Eva-Liv." "So you are more afraid that something will happen to them than that you will have some accident on an expedition?" Børge smiles weakly and takes a drink of apple juice. "Yes."

Børge Ousland designs for Norrøna "I call it a battle suit," Børge Ousland confides, referring to Norrøna's new jacket and pants for those with expeditionary souls. Ousland has been with Norrøna since 2005. Now his clothing expertise will live on in a collection of his own. "This is a true winter suit, in Gore-Tex, and we've worked hard on it. It may not be a revolution, but the cut, the seams, the pockets and all the other details are put together just so." The garments underwent testing in the Arctic, of course, and some of the improvements conceived there will come in handy at moments of extreme vulnerability. "We changed the zipper on the rear panel," he says. "No one wants to freeze their fingers off while sitting in a situation like that." On demanding expeditions, Børge says, comfort is crucial to maintaining stamina and spirit. And comfort comes from having clothing and equipment that work as designed. "These clothes bear my name, and it's important to me that they function 100 percent."

Text: Alexander Urrang Hauge
Photo: Chris Holter