It’s a few years since I was dropped off on the ice of Antarctica.

Hypnotised for a few brief moments, I stood in silence, at the very edge of this seemingly endless frozen land, watching as the plane that had taken me to my starting point - disappeared into the clouds. There was no going back. But that was ok.

I didn’t want to go back anyway.

I was alone.

Snapping out of the trance, reality quickly hit home - and two things quickly jumped to mind:

How on Earth did I make it here and how am I going to ski 730 miles to the South Pole?

At that moment, I was more concerned with the latter.

The romantic idealism of spending 40 days completely alone on the highest, driest, coldest and windiest continent on the planet is one thing when sitting excitedly, but stressfully, planning food supplies and movements down to each gram and each hour.

It’s a different proposition when fending for yourself in temperatures reaching -60C, dragging only a giant sledge for company - and with only one clean pair of underwear to look forward to for over 6 weeks.

What if my tracker failed? What if my ski bindings broke? What if my fuel canisters leaked? Had I even packed enough fuel?

So many unanswered questions, and as I would find out, so little margin for error.

But slowing my breathing, my thoughts - and my actions - down, I began to follow a mantra I’d promised to myself: everything simple and deliberate.

This was a journey of routine, managing any disruption along the way and finding resources of resilience to sometimes just tuck my chin down, get out that warm-ish tent and keep taking that next step each day. It was a journey I had chosen to take. It is not the place for heroics.

I hoped it would be a journey to inspire others (you can read about my health challenges here) to help raise money for Marie Curie (through our adventures others have raised over £90k so far), to repay the effort of others who’d helped me get there - and occasionally even enjoy myself, with, I hoped, some self-enlightenment thrown in along the way.

And the self-enlightenment came a little quicker than I thought.

As I took the first steps with a sledge I was barely able to move, I was full of doubts about my own ability to actually do this.

But, step-by-step, that very first day as I moved in the direction I wanted to go, my confidence grew. Just a million or so more of these steps and I would be there! I thought more about the first of those two questions I’d asked myself: How on Earth did I make it here?

Even when not be exactly where you want to be on any journey, it’s important to reflect on how far you’ve come, often before reaching ever further to where you want to be.

Thinking about the strength you’ve shown up to now, the challenges you’ve overcome, the decisions to this point, the things that made you happy, and the people you’ve helped, will make you realise that you are way more awesome than you tell yourself. Thinking about what’s important to you may may also make you realise that where you think you want to be, may not be being true to who you are.

Reflections are also important to set up your future, to allow you to think about what you want from life. What makes you happy and excited, what gives you purpose and what are you passionate about. Even if that means a huge change in direction don’t worry, those sharp turns in direction can be the most exciting.

One of the reasons, Hazel and I set up, and chose the name ‘Everyday Exploring’, is that as humans we are all continually exploring ourselves to find out more about what makes us jump out of bed each morning and feel excited to be alive, what makes us click and give us meaning and purpose - as well as exploring the physical world. Reflecting and asking ourselves questions is a great way to find happiness and purpose in the future.

So, as another new year approaches, perhaps first reflect about the year just past and think what made you happy and what didn’t. Use these to help ensure any new years resolutions last, and propel you in the direction of doing more of what you love next year, and for many years to come.

- Luke

You’ve come a long way: reflections from the start of a South Pole solo journey