Dating profiles eternal courage

He had grown accustomed to the obliterating conditions, overcoming miseries that would’ve broken just about anyone else.

He mentally painted images onto the desolate landscape for hours on end, and he summoned memories of his wife, Joanna, his twenty-one-year-old son, Max, and his nineteen-year-old daughter, Alicia. One contained the adage “Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts.” Another, written by Joanna, said, “Come back to me safely, my darling.” As is true of many adventurers, he seemed to be on an inward quest as much as an outward one—the journey was a way to subject himself to an ultimate test of character.

Navigation under such circumstances is always a challenge. I reckon I lost about three miles’ distance today from snaking around, head permanently bowed to read the compass, just my shuffling skis to look at for nine hours.

I certainly made a dog’s breakfast of the first three hours, at one stage wondering why the wind had suddenly switched from the east to the north. Anyway, I’m back on track and now happy I can part a straight line, even through another day of the white darkness. His feet were blistered and his toenails were discolored.

Everyone back here is keeping up with what you’re up to, and very proud of everything you’re achieving.” Worsley’s journey captivated people around the world, including legions of schoolchildren who were following his progress.

With each of you bringing your own values and interests to the relationship, you can come to love again in a way that is different from what you have previously known.

But what greeted me opening the tent flap was not my favorite scene: total whiteout and driving snow borne on an easterly wind.

And so it remained all day and has showed no sliver of change this evening.

According to his coördinates, he was on the Titan Dome, an ice formation near the South Pole that rises more than ten thousand feet above sea level.

The trek had begun at nearly sea level, and he’d been ascending with a merciless steadiness, the air thinning and his nose sometimes bleeding from the pressure; a crimson mist colored the snow along his path. Worsley was a retired British Army officer who had served in the Special Air Service, a renowned commando unit.

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