Life at the South Pole

When you tell people about the 300 Club, the same question always comes up: "Why would anyone do that?" The answer is not what they expect. It is not about proving you can handle -100°F air or a -152°F wind chill. Bragging rights and party stories are byproducts, not reasons. The real answer is harder to explain. It's the difference between enduring what happens and stepping into something that doesn't need to happen at all.

I thought my first days at the South Pole would be monumental. I had imagined stepping onto the ice with some sense of arrival, of accomplishment, of having crossed into something profound. I expected something meaningful, something that felt commensurate with the extremity of where I had just landed.

When I first began working on this book, I tried dozens of titles. Some were too dramatic, while others were too literal. Some tried too hard to sound literary. But there was one title I kept coming back to, one I thought would work from the beginning: Endurance: The Spirit of Survival at the South Pole.

I didn't plan to write a book about Antarctica. The story found me years after I left the bottom of the world, a place where silence has more to say than noise ever could.