Growing up, I was always drawn to adrenaline, extremity and testing my limits.

I started out doing relatively common stuff, bungee jumping, parachuteing, mountain climbing,

but like a junkie needing a greater high, I always wanted something more.

I gathered a group of like-minded friends through my adventuring, there were five of us.

Two girls named Kate and Lena, two guys named David and Jake, and me, Adam.

Together we moved onto more dangerous activities, base jumping, cave diving, things like that.

Three years ago we had what we thought was a great idea.

We would ski to the south pole.

It didn't take long for us to agree in this trip, only Lena was against it, not like in

the remoteness of the continent, but it didn't take much for us to persuade her.

Soon we were all planning, saving up money and researching.

On November 6th we stepped off a high plane at Hercules Inlet, a bay in the southwest of

Antarctica, in the beginning point of our 50 day ski trek.

Waiting for us was our guide, Leif Stinson.

Jake had picked Leif personally.

He'd been recommended by one of Jake's traveller friends, who had also hired the Norwegian

as a guide on an Antarctica trip.

He struck me as a gruff, silent man.

Hey there, Jake called out as we approached him, hauling our packs and skis behind us.

You must be Leif, right?

Yes, he answered, curtly.

His voice was heavily accented, and you are Jake, the very same, my friend smiled.

...