Alex Hibbert is the world record-holding polar traveler who has skied further on an unsupported Arctic journey than anyone in history. In July 2008, he completed his 1374-mile, 113-day ‘Long Haul’ return crossing of a new ice sheet route along with team-mate George Bullard. They received no resupplies or physical support and completed the final week on almost no food.

This is his story.

Never. Give. Up. Easy to say, especially when sat in relative comfort. We do all experience times though when comfort is absent – physically, mentally, or both. These are times when both we, and the things we rely upon, must truly set to work. Weakness or failure can have untold knock-on effects, and so, never giving up becomes much more than merely words, part of a pep talk, or something we’d like to aspire towards.

Early July 2008 – the Greenlandic ice sheet. My very first long, serious journey in the Arctic had taken a brutal turn for the worse. My teammate George and I had already endured over one hundred days alone on the ice without support. Now, we both stood staring at a patch of snow. We had spent the past hour using a tent pole to probe beneath the surface, with increased desperation as we tried to locate a resupply depot we’d laid for ourselves months before at the start of our out-and-back expedition. Nothing. Not even a remnant of our marker left on the surface as a guide.

The reality dawned on us that, after prolonged but controllable semi-starvation, we really were now out of food. We relied entirely on our depots for the return leg, aiming to reach the east coast again in under four months of skiing. So, we needed to make a decision – do we give up and ask our management team if there is an option for an aeroplane or helicopter evacuation from our position 150 kilometres inland, do we keep probing and digging in hope, or do we tough out the final days and kilometres?

We hadn’t come this far, over 2000 kilometres human-powered, and now with a world record, to give up. How humiliating to hand over responsibility to the outside world – to a pilot or skidoo team. No, we would finish what we began together, and in pure self-sufficient style. Every Second Counts, and timing was now key to success and survival. We needed enough daily distance to reach the coast before our bodies collapsed under the total lack of food.

After 113 days in total, a final week eating scraps found in our sledge bottoms, and leaping across dozens of half-hidden crevasses on the descent from the ice sheet, we reached our destination. Then, in the hours whilst we awaited our scheduled pickup, it was time to appreciate what we had achieved together, and why the spirit of not giving up, and instead fighting for success, was to be a launchpad for our adult lives.