This is me at Scott base camp in the Antarctic. It was just me and another guy, John, that had set out together and for six months leading up to our departure we thought we’d managed to plan for every single eventuality. We knew exactly where we were to be by what time every day and packed only a little more food than was required for the whole trip. But, true to form, the schedule went a little bit to shit to say the least. We got held up by a massive, unexpected snow storm for more days than we had allowed for, and on the way back we were running pretty low on supplies. This photo was taken two days before we returned. At that camp we met another guy who was just heading out. He was a bit of a prick but generally a commendable guy. And he was like us, in that he only had enough food for himself for the duration of his journey. So that night he ate well while we shared a shitty portion of some stew in a bag. John found this unforgivable, I could see it in his eyes. But we would have done the same, especially if we were just on our way out. The next morning we went our separate ways and wished him luck. A few hours later we stopped for a rest. My friend at this time produced some amount of amazing food that I didn’t know we’d had. I questioned him. He explained that he had stolen it from the other guy’s rucksack. And, so the guy wouldn’t notice straight away, he’d replaced the food with a pile of rocks of a similar weight and volume. He thought it was hilarious.