Looking back there are definitely only a handful of times that I’ve been nervous about camping: There was the first time I ventured into the Arctic all the way back in 2001 when I was eighteen, then there was my little solo expedition climbing a 5700m mountain in the Peruvian Andes in 2006 (which was also the first time I’d been that high or climbed a high altitude mountain). This was quickly followed by my solo attempt on Aconcagua a couple of months later which is a little short of 7000m. In 2008 when my colleague and I made our first attempt at a spring crossing of the remote Penny ice cap on Baffin Island (it was really cold and my feet froze) and finally our return trip in 2011 (for which I was nervous about my feet freezing again). I make that five times with the last one a full decade ago. Last week I added to that count.