Why This Route? And Why It’s So Damn Hard

When I first began dreaming of Antarctica, I didn’t just look at maps—I looked at history. I read the journals of Captain Scott, pored over the icy epics of Shackleton, and followed in the frozen footsteps of modern-day polar explorers like Cas and Jonesy.

Originally, my vision was an audacious one: to complete a full unsupported return journey to the South Pole and back. For me, it wasn’t just about reaching 90° South; it was about the ultimate challenge of returning from it under my own power. However, expedition logistics and funding realities mean that a return journey is no longer feasible for this attempt. While my scope has shifted to a one-way solo expedition, the scale of the challenge remains immense.

Why the Return Matters in History

In 1912, British explorer Captain Robert Falcon Scott stood at the South Pole, only to find the Norwegian flag already planted by Roald Amundsen. Amundsen and his team had made it there five weeks earlier and, crucially, made it back safely.

Scott’s party, on the other hand, never made it home. Their return from the Pole was plagued by bitter cold, hunger, exhaustion, and failing health. Just 12.5 miles from their next food depot, and 162 miles from base, they perished on the Ross Ice Shelf. Captain Lawrence Oates famously sacrificed himself to try and give the others a chance. It was an extraordinary story of courage and tragedy, one that echoes through polar history.

Scott’s journals were found months later, alongside the frozen remains of his team. They became a symbol of both the dangers of Antarctica and the enduring human spirit in the face of impossible odds..

A Century Later – The Legacy of Polar Travel

In 2012, a century after Scott’s death, Australians Cas and Jonesy, along with Aleksander Gamme, completed a round-trip journey from the coast of Antarctica to the South Pole without assistance. It took Cas & Jonesy 89 days and 2,275 km of skiing. They dragged every ounce of food and gear behind them in sleds, suffering frostbite, hallucinations, and severe starvation.

While a return journey remains one of the rarest feats in polar history, undertaking a solo, unsupported crossing to 90° South in any format requires absolute self-reliance, rigorous physical conditioning, and flawless execution.

Navigating Route Realities & Weather Challenges

Selecting a starting point for a solo expedition is an exercise in balancing safety, route feasibility, and extreme terrain.

I originally evaluated starting from Union Glacier (UG); however, unpredictable weather conditions, temperature shifts, and increased crevasse risks across local ice corridors mean that a UG starting point is not viable for this year's attempt. Warming temperatures have significantly impacted ice shelf stability and widened dangerous crevasse fields, making certain northern routes too hazardous for solo traversal.

Instead, my route will take on the traditional, classic line starting from Hercules Inlet on the Antarctic coast. From there, it is a ~700-mile (~1,130 km) solo ski haul up onto the Antarctic Plateau to 90° South, climbing over 9,000 feet while dragging a 100 kg+ pulk through extreme winds and temperatures dropping below -40°C.

Honouring the Legacy

I feel a deep sense of connection to this polar legacy. Having studied the historic routes and trained extensively across Arctic plateaus, my mission remains clear: a solo, unsupported ski journey to the Geographic South Pole.

This isn’t just about achieving a personal milestone; it’s about honouring those who went before me. Completing this journey in the pure, traditional unsupported style—carrying every ounce of food, fuel, and survival gear with zero resupplies or wind assistance—feels like the most fitting tribute to Scott, Shackleton, and the pioneer explorers whose ambitions were written into the snow with every step forward.

My expedition will be modern in its planning, backed by climate science, but historic in its spirit.