People didn’t understand why a Black man would visit the North Pole

‘Bro, that’s a white people thing!’

When I first revealed I would be one of three people hiking to the North Pole, this was the reaction I got from many of my peers.

They weren’t proud, they weren’t cheering me on, they would just tell me that ‘Black people don’t go to cold places.’

Part of me didn’t blame them for this reaction: it was unusual to think of someone who looked like me climbing mountains or battling snow storms back. But that’s also exactly why I knew I had to do it.

Truth is though, I very nearly missed this calling…

Growing up as a kid in Jamaica I was encouraged to explore the world around me.

There was this expectation that, from the moment you were awake, you would be outdoors and stay outdoors until dinnertime – at least that’s what my Granny expected of me.

I taught myself how to make my own fires, how to pick my own cashew nuts and roast them and I’d only return home early in order to show off the frog, lizard or other small creature I’d befriended that day.

Around the age of six, however, that all changed.

After my Granny became too frail to look after me, I was sent to live with my mum in the UK and suddenly, staying in the house was not only encouraged but enforced.

‘Stay inside. Don’t answer the door to anyone,’ my mum would warn. 

We didn’t even have a back garden to explore. No grass, no plants, no greenery. Just a concrete space. And all I remember feeling was misery.

Whenever I did leave the house I’d go searching for adventure. That meant climbing trees or digging through playground wood chippings looking for insects.

To me that was normal, but to others it was decidedly not.

I’ll never forget the time I picked up a handful of dirt complete with wood lice, centipedes, and a couple of worms to show off to my classmates, nor their screams or shouts of ‘you’re nasty!’ as they ran away. I’d never felt so lonely or out of place.

I realised then that, if I wanted to survive, then I needed to adapt.

I’d order the same foods as the kid in front of me in the canteen, I’d laugh at things I didn’t find particularly funny, and took up hobbies (if you can call spending four hours sitting on a park bench with your ‘mates’ a hobby) I didn’t actually enjoy.

I did that for 16 years, coasted along until one night in summer 2005 when a man pulled a gun on me after I confronted him about stealing my moped.

While I was just relieved to have had a lucky escape – he cocked the gun twice – when my ‘friends’ caught wind of what had happened, they wanted to dish out their own form of justice.

I received umpteen texts and calls from people asking what I was going to do, emphasising that, because this guy tried to ‘get me’ I should now go and ‘get him’.

I took a beat and asked myself ‘what do I really want to do here?’ 

Eventually, the answer I came to was simple… The last time I remembered feeling truly happy, like the real version of myself, was when I was a child exploring the outdoors. 

With no idea where to start I simply waited for an opportunity to arise and one did in spring 2006 when I heard about some friends planning to ‘climb a hill’ for charity.

That ‘hill’ was actually the Three Peaks challenge and let’s just say I was woefully underprepared.

My clothing was all wrong, I was wearing trainers as opposed to proper hiking boots, and by the time we summited Snowdon I was full of cramp, my ankle was swollen and I was beyond starved and exhausted.

The experience was exactly the type of thing six-year-old me would have been blown away by, and that both calmed and ignited something within me.

After that, I became determined to find my next adventure.

It took a while – almost 10 months – but I ended up applying to join a group as they walked to the North Pole.

I wanted to do something unexpected, something unusual, something that no one who comes from where I come from or who looked like me had done before.

I think that’s why I got such visceral reactions from people. They didn’t understand why a Black man, born and raised in Jamaica then East London, would want to do this. It wasn’t a ‘normal’ opportunity for someone who looked like us.

The expedition itself was full of highs and lows: I got frost-bitten fingers, I felt lonely at points, and even fell through a crack in the snow one time. But I also felt free. I even came across a musk ox calf and befriended it. 

Once back home though, I suddenly felt claustrophobic. I’d become accustomed to the wide open spaces of the Arctic and being able to see the horizon in almost every direction. But now I felt trapped by London’s skyscrapers and bustling streets.

That’s when it really hit home to me that exploring our world was what I was born to do. And while it’s been a lot of hard work – I’ve had to make huge sacrifices, spend a lot of my own time and money to make them a reality – pursuing my adventures has been worth every moment.

I’ve been in every single environment in the world since, from the Arctic, to deserts, to jungles and rainforests.

Despite my experience though, to this day I still get well-meaning ‘jokes’ about my chosen field. ‘Are you sure you’re not white?’ is probably the most common jibe I get, but I’m determined to stamp out these perceptions, especially for the next generation.

It’s why I co-founded the We2 Foundation, to show young people that these opportunities are absolutely possible for them too no matter what society says.

Already we’ve taken a group of young people to Antarctica and the Galapagos islands and I’ve been blown away at how these trips have already had the power to change lives.

There’s so many more adventures to come. For me the next one is just weeks away.

I’ll be climbing Mount Meru – a dormant stratovolcano in Tanzania – with a young woman called Melissa Grace who has Angelman syndrome – a rare genetic condition that affects the nervous system. 

She has severe mobility issues, meaning she has to use a wheelchair most of the time and is nonverbal, but after three years of planning we’re ready to see what we can achieve.

Because if there’s one thing I’m sure of it’s this: if I can become an explorer, anyone else can do it too. All you need is to believe that the opportunities are out there and you can do it.

And trust me, colour, creed, religion, it all becomes irrelevant once you’re at the literal top of the world.

As told to Emma Rossiter

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing Ross.Mccafferty@metro.co.uk. 

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