Want to see what it’s like ramping up to an expedition with a goal to do what has never been done? Rebekah Feaster, Jeff Wueste and I spent the last two weeks in a whirlwind of activity trying to settle our lives/jobs/dough, the we loaded up my pick up truck to the hilt, strapped down our three sea kayaks and sped across the US – tired as hell. We first stopped in Memphis after driving from noon to midnight from Austin. My sister/Expedition Manager, Barbara Edington, arranged for our hotel rooms on the fly while Tom McGuire handled all our media. We’ve got an interview request we’re juggling with a Nunavut reporter traveling from Canada to Greenland to Heathrow Airport in London. We departed from Memphis around ten a.m. (we were wiped out) and got into Columbus, Ohio around 9 pm and shoveled down some supper straight from the yellow foodgroup at the Cracker Barrel, simply because it was within walking distance – lord, help us. Rebecca had an inch or two of whiskey remaining in a bottle, which I partnered with a Pepsi (we’re reaching here) while I tried to configure some serious issues with my Sony camcorder hard drive, which we need for the expedition. I wasn’t able to figure it out, even with the help of Jeff. Rebekah figured out how we can use our satellite communications as I drove through Kentucky and Ohio (yay, Rebekah!). Now, with a dram or two under my belt, I’m fading and we’ve got ten hours on the road tomorrow to Ottawa WITH a border crossing in between. I figure with our fully loaded truck, kayaks and seal-a-mealed clear bags of white protein powder, shotgun and whatnot, we’ve got a few hours of quality time with some customs agents before we can relax in our hotel rooms (thanks, Barbara!) in Ottawa. So, this is what a bare-bones major expedition looks like, folks. The five star suites and full concierge staff might work for some of those high-end expeditions, but our blue-collar approach is kicking ass and taking names.
When it gets down to it, we’re simply putting one foot in front of the other in order to get to our launch spot at Baffin Bay. One mile at a time. One horrible fast-food meal after another. One bad joke after another. One war story after another. One “Pulp Fiction” reference after another and more importantly, one laugh after another and we’re off!