South Pole trek: Skiing to the Nth degree

updated 12:42 p.m. ET July 25, 2006

The Amundsen-Scott Station, a U.S. scientific research base, sits atop the most desolate and frigid patch of snow on earth: the geographic South Pole.

In winter, temperatures at the Pole drop below -100 degrees--so cold that boiling water, if thrown into the air, turns to ice before hitting the ground. Because of this intense cold, the station is completely cut off from the rest of the world between March and November, the winter months at the bottom of the globe. Below -50, nobody can fly in or out; metal landing gear on airplanes snap like twigs, and engine oil turns to jelly.

The American public became aware of this several years ago, when Dr. Jerri Nielsen, while overwintering at the Pole, found a cancerous lump in her breast. Nielsen performed surgery--on herself--as no one could be flown in or out.

I had hankered for the chilly southern climes for decades--tales of the extreme fuel the imaginations of youngsters. In 1970, as a wide-eyed teen, I wrote President Richard Nixon asking if I could visit the South Pole station under the guise of a science fair project. Believe it or not, my query prompted a response: Nixon referred my letter to Dr. Louis Quam in the Department of Interior. I would be hearing from Quam soon, Nixon assured me. I am still waiting.

Last December, I took matters into my own hands, joining a "Ski the Last Degree" expedition organized by Voyage Concepts in England and Geographic Expeditions in the U.S. The plan: Fly to 89 degrees south latitude, then battle Mother Nature for another 70 miles, cross-country skiing to the Pole while hauling all of our equipment, food and personal gear in sleds. The ski part of the trip ranges from six to 12 days, depending on the group's strength and polar snow conditions.

In Picttures: The Southernmost Ski Click here to see slide show Base camp 89 degrees south latitude En route to the Pole Constant below-zero cold Hauntingly beautiful Our triumphant group Amundsen-Scott South Pole Station dome The crew of BICEP C-130 Hercules planes land at the Pole Jim Clash on the ham radio Ice Challenger, a souped-up Ford A self-portrait at the South Pole Video: Visiting The South Pole Source: Forbes.com

But first, getting there. After five flights south--New York to Lima, Peru; Lima to Santiago, Chile; Santiago to Punta Arenas, Chile, via LAN Airlines (nyse: LFL - news - people ); then to Patriot Hills, Antarctica, via Antarctic Logistics & Expeditions; and finally to 89 South via a Kenn Borek Air Twin Otter--we set out on the polar plateau, where bone-chilling wind is the norm and even birds can't survive. The landscape is flat ice desert as far as the eye can see, and had we not had the aid of a GPS, we would have had no idea in which direction to ski.

Fewer than 300 people have skied to the South Pole; our group added just four to the total. My teammates--William Roberts, a 46-year-old lawyer from Ireland, and David Gibb, 40, a fund manager from South Africa--had each ponied up $41,000 for the exotic experience. We were led by British polar expert Stephen Jones, 39.

It was summer there, but that didn't mean it was easy. Because the plateau is 9,300 feet above sea level, the cold air (rarely above zero) is thin, and the body acclimates to the lack of oxygen grudgingly. I had a headache and nausea for the first few days. Couple that with the fact that we were each hauling 110-pound sled loads--well, you get the exhausting picture.

Our routine was the same each day. We woke at 7 a.m., then fired up stoves to melt snow for a breakfast of oatmeal and hot chocolate. By 10, both tents were dismantled (we slept two per tent) and camp was packed up. Then the real work began: eight grueling hours of skiing.

Day after day, we pushed on for solid 60-minute legs, breaking for 15, then skiing another 60 and so on. Burning about 1,000 calories an hour, we scarfed as much chocolate, dried fruit and nuts as possible during the breaks, washing them down with hot drinks from our thermoses. When the wind kicked up, we quickly donned face masks, since at those temperatures any exposed skin will be frostbitten within minutes.

Was it tough? You bet. Three days into the trip, I leaned over to Gibb and panted, "Of this much I am certain: If there is such a thing as reincarnation, I absolutely do not want to come back as a sled dog."

Despite the struggles, I couldn't help but occasionally admire the view, which was otherworldly and beautiful. One day brought with it "sun dogs," a phenomenon whereby a large rainbow rings the sun, with two false suns appearing on either side. Another day, tiny ice crystals suddenly began falling from a perfectly clear sky.

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