The day started out just fine — “The temperature was about minus-36. Really nice day.” — but by nightfall the temperature plummeted and became unbearable. Griffiths knew he couldn’t stop walking. He couldn’t lie down and sleep. But eventually, Griffiths said, he and a partner were too exhausted to go on. They huddled in the snow for three hours in the middle of the night, from midnight to 3 a.m., shivering and massaging their numb muscles to keep the blood flowing. The left foot was a problem, Griffiths realized. He couldn’t get it warm.

By the next evening, when event staff transported Griffiths on an hours-long journey to the nearest hospital, his toes were purple. The surgeon thought he was going to lose them all, if not his entire foot. Griffiths remained in the hospital for treatment for several days before flying back home to Manchester, where a surgeon geared him up for amputation.

There, he told the doctor about the Sourtoe Cocktail.

“He thought it was quite amusing,” Griffiths said. “He said, ‘Look, they’re your toes. You can have them if you want.’ When I came back from surgery, next to me were three little jars with my toes in it.”