I’ve had 68 days to rehearse a speech, yet when I turned on the video camera and counted down the last few feet on my GPS, I didn’t know what to say.

I still don’t. I felt a huge mixture of emotions today – overwhelming joy and happiness, relief, sadness, frustration that I’m here too late in the season to reach the Canadian coastline. I thought of Dominick Arduin, who died this spring trying to reach the same point. And I thought how strange it is that there’s nothing here. It’s a bit of ice, just like any other.

I knew that all along, of course, but it still seemed so odd that the only proof is a number on the GPS. I sat down on my sledge and within moments I had drifted away from it. It’s a cliche, but it’s true – the important bit is the journey, not the destination.

And what a journey it’s been so far. I’ve had way more than I bargained for – the conditions have been worse than ever and I’ve had to dig deeper than I imagined possible just to keep going. My motivation and my goals have changed drastically – at the start, this was about competition. Making a statement. I’ve come to realise that the only competition was with myself, and that the only thing I’m ‘conquering’ is my own self-doubt. The Arctic changes every year – skiing to the North Pole isn’t like running the 100 metres. It’s not even like climbing Everest, or skiing to the South Pole, because it’s getting tougher and tougher. Making a solo and unsupported ski crossing? I’m wary of using the word impossible, but I think it comes close. I hope someone proves me wrong.