Life after lockdown

From polar exploration to the packed tube – my five tips for successfully emerging from isolation

Across a 20-year career leading polar expeditions – either alone or as part of a small team – in the vast frozen wildernesses at either ends of the earth, the nearest human beings to me are often aboard the International Space Station. In this polar isolation I am removed from incoming communication – no emails, no social media, no social occasions, no gossip, no news – just an ascetic day-to-day routine.

In fact, I often think one of the most decadent acts of my life was setting up my out-of-office in a little hotel in Chile in October 2013, before flying into Antarctica for four months. The auto response explained that I wouldn’t have access to my email until late February the following year, signing off with the words “If you want to contact me, you can’t”.

For weeks and months on end – cumulatively totalling more than a year of my life – this is my reality. Yet, after each expedition, I must prepare and find a method to confront the anxieties and pressures which accompany a re-introduction into the ‘real world.’

This past year, and particularly the long and lonesome winter months, I shared in a different type of collective isolation. Today, as people in the UK are invited to take the next step out from this now familiar and secure state, they might understandably be experiencing mixed emotions: excitement and trepidation in differing measures.

Across more than two decades – and 12 major expeditions – I have come to know this feeling intimately and have learnt a few hard-won lessons on how best to navigate this reverse culture shock.

Here are my five tips for a successful transition from isolation to civilisation.

1. PACE YOURSELF

After a year where the only events inked in your calendar were countless Zoom calls, a daily lap of the common and the iCal reminder for the Battle of Boyne, it is understandable that now the doors are legally open there is an inclination – perhaps even a sense of obligation – to cram your diary full. When returning from weeks of disconnected solitude, I certainly fell foul to this desperate desire to catch up on everything I had missed. However, and perhaps unsurprisingly, I soon found myself exhausted and overwhelmed.

As we emerge, it is certainly worth remembering the relief that many felt in that first lockdown when our diaries were emptied, and our needs simplified.

Striking a balance, by keeping some personal boundaries in place, could be a wise move.

2. SMELL THE ROSES

I remember vividly the taxi journey from the airport back to my London flat after four months on the vast white ice shelves and plateaus of Antarctica in early 2014. As I gazed out of the window I was struck by the beauty of nature, even alongside the hard shoulder of the M4. The trees, bushes, flowers, and patches of green grass; I felt uncommonly alive to the natural world’s sights, sounds and scents.

When I ask people about their lessons of lockdown, a common thread has been an increased awareness and affection for the planet that we are fortunate enough to inhabit. It is impossible to protect something that you do not care about, so one silver lining that I am hoping for from this difficult chapter is a positive shift in the symbiotic relationship between humans and nature.

Don’t forget to keep smelling the roses.

3. KEEP A DIARY

On long expeditions, alone in the tent at the end of an onerous day, I would invariably reach for my little notebook to journal my progress.

On reflection I now wish I had managed to keep my diary going after the expedition, logging the transition from the far reaches to the full throttle, a process every bit as adventurous and challenging as skiing to a pole.

When sunnier and busier days arrive, it is all too easy to forgo the tools that helped protect our wellbeing in lockdown – be it exercise, meditation, journaling, walking, reading or your own interpretation of what ‘self-care’ might look like. As we begin to get swept along by life again, I’d argue the importance of doing the opposite, and investing in these practices more than ever.

4. TEMPER YOUR EXPECTATIONS

When I skied solo to the North Pole in 2004 – 72 days and nights alone on the Arctic Ocean, and for much of that time the only human being in more than a million square miles – I had two recurring daydreams. I would indulge myself, and indeed distract myself from the scarier moments of my present reality, by allowing these images to build into palpable longings.

The first daydream was a hot bath at home – when my fingertips, toes and face were at risk of frostbite, my limbs and back had been aching for a quarter of a year and I hadn’t washed in ten weeks, this might be unsurprising. The second was to go out for a curry with my friends. After an unchanging diet of freeze-dried rations, energy bars and protein shakes that dwindled along with my bodyweight, this was a near-inevitable fantasy. 

In lockdown, you might have daydreamed of a live music gig, an exotic beach or a party with limitless numbers. These remain a wonderful luxury, but given my experience, I’m not convinced they will ever match the profound levels of reward you might attach to them in a time of denial.

Not long after my bath and my curry (activities undertaken separately I should add) I was already dreaming wistfully of my pristine Arctic isolation.

5. BE MORE BUDDHIST

On long, difficult and isolated polar journeys, the temptation can be to crave a better future, or at least the finish line. I am not religious, but Buddhism has a term, sa?sāra, that alludes to the suffering caused by the desire humans often have for completion, or some form of lasting happiness (when, of course, life is a patchwork of impermanence).

Through this collective experience of a constrained and simplified existence we have been forced to find beauty and joy in other places, and perhaps in life’s everyday pleasures. A smile from a stranger, a word of support from a loved one, a cup of tea with a friend, or the boundless positive energy of a dog with a tennis ball. As opportunities for hedonistic indulgence return, it is more valuable than ever to remember that the only way to find this ideal place is to see it all around you.