By an ironic twist of fate, I have arrived somewhat unceremoniously at the South Pole. While my initial hope was to ski here in record time, the reality is that I have reached the pole (this year) on a small plane called a twin otter.

After turning around at roughly 86 degrees South a few days I go, I skied back to the remote skiway (landing strip on snow for airplanes) at a place called Thiels corner. Down hill and with a tail wind, it was still a struggle to make miles. Luckily the weather was decent with good visibility (for the most part). My sled was incredibly light as I only had a few days of food and fuel inside. Mentally, it was difficult to still be skiing long days knowing that I would not be successful in this expedition that I had been for so long dreaming.

I've always said that in Antarctic polar travel you very quickly come up against who you are as a person. With no other distractions or visual stimuli, your mind is all that you have. Your successes. Your defeats. The stupid things you said at party 10 years ago... all of it is paraded right in front of your eyes. Any veneer of strength is stripped away. It was hard for me to ski backwards in defeat. At times, I feel physically sick with anguish over my decision.

A little while after I arrived at Thiels, the twin otter landed to refuel en route to the South Pole with a group of tourists. There was an empty seat on the plane and I was invited to join. I hesitated a bit but jumped on. After all, it would be better than simply sitting my tent alone for the night while waiting for the plane to pick me up on its way back.

At the pole, I was greeted by my old friend and prior expedition partner Ryan Waters who just finished guiding a "last degree" trip. Together we have been on many grueling adventures and if anyone could cheer me up, it would be Ryan.

It was a bit surreal to be thrust back into life with chairs and plates and actual conversations with other human beings, but I was tired too... that deep tired that takes several days to recharge from.

Now, I am still the South Pole camp in a heated tent laying on, of all things, a cot. It is snowing and blowing outside and had I been still traveling on my expedition, yet another snowstorm would have surely stopped me in my tracks. My decision to end my expedition, it seems, was a good and sensible one.

In talking with other people here, it turns out that this has been one of the more crazy weather years here with more snow and more frequent snows than anyone can remember experiencing. In fact, it even rained near the ALE "penguin camp" near Berkner Island, a very unusual occurrence.

The bad weather also means that I am stuck at the pole for at least another day or two. This is how remote travel in places like this works; however, having been gone for nearly six weeks now, I miss my kids.

Still, just like on my expedition, I am focusing on the positive and for now it's the fact that any direction I go from here brings me closer to home.

And one final message to my summer intern Gus - I have your Glacier Rescue banner with me and will get a picture at the South Pole for you!