Inside the tent was darker than usual. Tapping my fingers lightly on the red nylon, I watched as dark shapes slid down the outside, hitting the ground with a hiss. Last night’s snowfall. A few more taps and light flooded in as if opening curtains. Peering outside, my stomach knotted as I realised how much snow had fallen. But I quickly parked that thought. No point in worrying about conditions on this solo expedition - the weather was just one aspect out of my control. A sense of calm settling over me, I fired up the stove for breakfast, continuing with my morning tasks, ready for another day of sledge-hauling. Each day slicker and more efficient, my routine was already becoming second nature.

In southwestern Norway lies the Hardangervidda (Hardanger Plateau), Europe’s largest high mountain plateau. Standing proudly above the treeline with an average elevation of just over a thousand metres, these vast, ancient, glacier-carved mountains extend for almost 7,000 square kilometres. With its subarctic climate and punishing winter conditions, Shackleton and Nansen, and many explorers since, have used this region as the perfect training ground for polar expeditions. In February this year I had the privilege of crossing Hardangervidda on skis, from Finse in the north to Haukeliseter in the south - a journey of over 130 km. For company, I dragged a pulk holding everything I’d need to survive.

Leaving the hamlet of Finse, my horizons were peppered with human structures for days - telephone masts silhouetted on peaks, shuttered cabins buried under a weight of snow, a busy road with huge banks at each side that I picked my way across like a fast flowing river. Feeling relieved when these faded from view, I continued to climb higher and onto the Hardangervidda proper; remote, wild and raw. Layers of mountains stretched out to the horizon in every direction, and not a soul in sight.

With steep climbs in deep snow often lasting for hours, remembering their temporary nature helped me to continue, even when progress felt unbearably slow. Focusing on taking ten more steps, then another ten, and another kept me present. However challenging the situation felt at the time, it was comforting to know that it would pass.

As my first long-distance solo expedition, each step felt very special. Being wholly responsible for decision-making was freeing and empowering. Knowing I could survive on my own in strong winds that made me stumble sideways on each gust - navigating safely in the mountains as drifting snow made it hard to see much beyond the tips of my skis - staying warm and comfortable with a windchill of 24 below was deeply satisfying. How often do we carve out time, free from all distraction, to just be with ourselves?

I found myself increasingly tuning in to slight changes in the plateau, reading the landscape. The subtleties of snow under ski, the shifting patterns of light filtering through the grey clouds and illuminating distant hills, the feeling of steepening terrain in a whiteout, the changing wind direction, a bank of cloud building in the west. I felt senses becoming alert for tiny differences, snippets of information - instilling a deep curiosity and joy at the smallest and simplest of things.

Emerging from the plateau, the world was changing beyond recognition. And now, adjusting to this new normal, I’m finding my experiences and mindset from expeditions, including Hardangervidda, are helping me navigate these uncertain times. The natural world can teach us so much, not only about ourselves, but how to overcome challenges in all aspects of life.

So I’m focusing on what I can control - my attitude, taking care of myself, helping others - and letting go of what I can’t. Creating a new routine and structure to my days that helps me stay motivated. Staying curious and finding wonder in the smallest of things - new buds on the trees, lighter evenings, a stranger’s smile from afar. Making time that’s free of distractions to reflect. Being fully present in each moment. And remembering that this, too, is finite.

- Hazel

I’m hugely grateful to:

TentMeals for supplying me with tasty expedition meals

The Polar Academy for lending me equipment

Piteraq for lending me a pulk

Navigating uncertainty: reflections from Hardangervidda