"...No other alternative for reaching the Yamal Peninsula. Next real village: Novy Port 450km away…Furthermore, I didn't have a map of this region, and with the coming of spring, marching conditions were becoming increasingly tedious. This end of the second leg was therefore proving to be more than audacious.... "

"That black dot contrasted against the whiteness of the pack ice did not fool me. It was indeed a seal resting on the ice and I very much hoped that he had come to calm the stomach cramps of my five famished companions. The wind was in the right direction and, with great precaution, I was able to get within 100m of the animal. The shot was fired and the animal did not move. I thought that I had got it but it lifted its head. The second shot was also off target but this time the seal dived into the water. Good-bye to my dreams of a feast shared with my dogs. I was furious, and they had to be content yet again with fish for their evening meal. At Kara the population turned out to be more welcoming and I did not perceive the aggression of Karataïka. Nevertheless, the indications for the continuation of my course were hardly encouraging. I learnt that the villages of Yary and Youribeï that were on my way had been abandoned. In other words, to the south of Kara, the bay was completely deserted. According to Boris, there should nonetheless be some reindeer breeders and a family running a warehouse that served as a shop for the nomads of Yamal, at the foot of the bay some 300km away, but his information was already more than a year old.
No other alternative for reaching the Yamal Peninsula. Next real village: Novy Port 450km away…Furthermore, I didn't have a map of this region, and with the coming of spring, marching conditions were becoming increasingly tedious. This end of the second leg was therefore proving to be more than audacious."

The Obstacle of the Ural Mountains / Kara Sea, 69°51'N 60°51'E / T° -10°C
Arktika is in Asia! A great moment for Gilles. He had just reached the Ural Mountains that form a natural frontier between Europe and Asia.
After leaving the village of Karataïka where our solitary adventurer had a few worries with a population under the influence of drink, he had a further 30km to go until Amderma, a little village by the side of the Kara Sea. This sea welcomed him with a veritable hurricane and he suddenly saw the pack ice break up before his very eyes. Gilles and his companions were then obliged to leave the ice as soon as they could and move on to dry land. But there was still the obstacle of the Ural Mountains.

"What a spring! The weather there was foul. I was perpetually marching in fog, with my compass, stumbling all the time because the quality of that light caused all contrast to disappear. A storm every three days. I stopped over in an isba, taking advantage of the relative comfort to make some necessary changes to the leather harnesses. I needed rope, straps and snap links so that the dogs could be comfortable with the sledge. But, at two o'clock in the morning, I woke up with a headache, tried to stand up but fell over on the floor of the isba. The bad draught of the stove must have intoxicated me. I dragged myself painfully to the door and finished the night in the company of my dogs in the corridor.

The pack ice was impressive with its chaotic ice as far as the eye could see. Every other step, our feet went into a crack in the pack ice or in slush. That again! I thought that we would never get shot of it. However, we were always able to find a narrow corridor for the sledge between the enormous blocks of ice. Despite the bad ice and the heavy load, we were progressing by 20 to 35km per day.

The cross of pulling on my own was over. I was now busy training my five athletes, especially my lead dog. Bars had the build of a bulldozer and an extremely sensitive soul. He was of average intelligence and had a lot of trouble understanding my orders about directions. Pouchok, the hairy young dog, was his neighbour. He did as best he could, but he was not very strong. Sharik was quick at the outset and quickly out of breath. He had an excellent sense of smell and regained all his strength to carry us off in a sprint when he scented something. As for Sokol, my dog, he resembled Vostok like two peas in a pod. He was always in a good mood and full of pulling, but he needed to be calmed down all the time as he tangled up all the leads in the course of his manifestations of joy. And finally there was Dingo, who replaced Michka that I left in Karataïka, because he used to panic as soon as he was harnessed and bite his neighbours. Dingo followed me for days on end. I had been unable to get rid of him! He was happy to pull without worrying about anything else. He was limping a little and I feared that he might in the past have caught his paw in a fox trap. These were my five companions.

My tent was set up in the middle of the Yugorsky Strait. Behind me, the Barents Sea and Europe. In front of me: the Kara Sea and Asia. To my left: Vaigatch Island and further to the North, New-Zemble. This was a great moment for me, because I had just completed the crossing of the European Arctic: 3,300 from the North Cape.

I had thought that the Kara Sea would be more indulgent towards me than its neighbouring Barents Sea had been, but I was welcomed by a hurricane that obliged me to put up the tent immediately and the pack ice in front of me was disintegrating: open sea was blocking my way. What a sight to see that sea flirting with the pack ice caught on the tall cliffs of black rock! My eyes were so accustomed to the whiteness of the landscape that, despite the austerity of the place, I found it extremely beautiful. Two polar bear tracks, crossed during the day, persuaded me to put a few bullets in my pocket and to keep the rifle with me in the tent. In the month of April, the white bears migrate from New-Zemble to the South.
Five months of winter, five months of living under canvas or in the occasional isba. What did the future have in store for me? I am glad that I did not know".

Alone Again / Karataïka / 3 140km From the North Cape
Gilles has set off again on his own with his dogs. The next village of Amderma is 200km away without any resupply point. The temperature has gone from -20°C to + 2°C. Gilles was of course unaware of the condition of the ice on his route and was worried about it.
"I took the lead, and the sledge of Taras followed about a kilometre behind me. My big Bars did not yet understand my orders very well but he pulled like a madman. So I was marching in front for during the early days to give him confidence. 30km each day, with the dogs working well for beginners. A team of three dogs was of course insufficient, but I was counting on adding to it on the way. Two days after our departure, we reached a Nenet encampment consisting of two tchoums (conical tents) in which about fifteen people were living!
Taras would draw, and I would film, take photographs and write. So it seemed to me that we made a good team. We recovered the carcass of a reindeer that had recently been killed by a wolf and quartered it. From seal meat as starters to reindeer meat as dessert, that was a five-star meal for our dogs. I was often envious of them when I fed them because we ourselves were only entitled to the eternal pemmican pasta. I could not prevent myself from cutting off a few seal steaks while preparing their supper. Luck was with us, for the Bay of Khaïbudirskaya, supposed to be open because of its strong currents, was frozen. Crossing it was somewhat troublesome because of the chaotic ice but we succeeded after a day of effort. Cape Cinkin was in view and we found a hunter there who invited us into his cabin. At the beginning of that month of April, the winds were ferocious even though the temperature was almost springlike, in the region of -15°C.

We finally reached Karataïka. A sorry sight in the lost village of the Russian Arctic. Alcohol there was wreaking havoc with the interbred population of Nenets, Komis and Russians, who did not really see eye to eye. Barely arrived, I was set upon by inebriated men who wanted to sell me fish for my dogs. The fishing season was over, and there was virtually no other activity in the village. No sooner a few coins in the pocket than they were quickly spent on vodka.

"...As soon as I arrived there, I had an uneasy feeling and my intuition was quickly to be confirmed. In addition to the procession of drunks, I was the victim of some flagrant dishonesty, which was the very first occasion since I had left North Cape..."

"...As soon as I arrived there, I had an uneasy feeling and my intuition was quickly to be confirmed. In addition to the procession of drunks, I was the victim of some flagrant dishonesty, which was the very first occasion since I had left North Cape..."
As soon as I arrived there, I had an uneasy feeling and my intuition was quickly to be confirmed. In addition to the procession of drunks, I was the victim of some flagrant dishonesty, which was the very first occasion since I had left North Cape. Having let it be known that I wanted to buy some dogs, two young boys came that evening to offer me a beautiful animal that answered to the name of Ali. The next day, I learned that it had been stolen by the two rip-off artists and its owner wanted to hear nothing whatsoever about it being sold. I was extremely disappointed and I went in search of comfort from my three companions, Bars, Sokol and Pouchok. I managed nevertheless, after some tedious negotiations, to buy two dogs, Michka and Sharik. I must admit that at that time I felt closer to the canine species than to the local population!
Taras also admitted to me that he no longer wanted to accompany me. I could not really explain the reason why he abandoned me but for a few days already I had been feeling a certain reciprocal unease. Dreaming of travel is one thing, living it day by day with its difficulty, unpleasantness, discomfort and danger is another…

Nevertheless, his sudden departure took me by surprise. Hardly had my sledge come to a halt in front of the village administration when Taras came up to me, returned the camera that I had entrusted to him and expressed his desire to take the road back to Varandeï immediately. I advised him to have a night's rest, allowing time to organise his return and to prepare the necessary rations for him and his dogs. I could feel him hesitating. Taras felt superfluous in that new environment. All the people around me were bidding me welcome, congratulating me and ignoring him. I even at times felt a hint of disdain due perhaps to a certain jealousy. Just enough time to unload a few bags from the sledge and he was gone. No tent, no rations, a week on the road in prospect and infernal weather that had suddenly made our thermometer go from -20°C to +2°C with wind and rain worthy of my beloved Brittany. That was the fifth thaw that I had experienced that winter.

So a big thank you to you, Taras the Nenet. Thank you for having shared my adventure, if only for ten days or so. That week of travel with a companion had again shown me that travelling solo is very special, because it unfolds more within oneself than actually on the terrain itself. An eventful week. All along the 150km of route, I had had to train my team. My three dogs had revealed their personalities, adding spice and gaiety to the journey. The solitude of recent months was over, we were then living 24 hours a day together, often for the best and occasionally for the worst."