The first interplanetary explorers may not go alone, but they will certainly be venturing way beyond the reach of our human tribe.
In 2011, I discovered for myself just how altering that experience can be when a small aircraft dropped me on the coast of Antarctica at the beginning of a two-month journey to ski across the continent alone.
As the plane slowly vanished I took in my surroundings. On one side was the flat white horizon of the Ross Ice Shelf and on the other the distant peaks of the Transantarctic Mountains. I knew that in all that landscape I was the only human being -- but quite possibly the only form of life whatsoever. Away from the open water 700km (435 miles) to my north, there was no wildlife -- no penguins or seals, no moss or grasses. Just me.
Polar explorer Felicity Aston
Polar explorer Felicity Aston
More significantly, I knew that it had taken two planes, two fuel depots and more than a week of complex logistics to get me to my start point. There was no chance of the plane easily coming back for me.
Out of habit, I immediately fell into my familiar expedition routine, preparing my kit in order to begin skiing the following day. But as I worked I noticed that something was wrong. My heart was beating fast. I was unusually clumsy. My hands were visibly shaking. Abruptly, I realised what the problem was -- I was terrified. Not terrified of personal injury, or of the risk of fatality in the weeks and miles to come but terrified of being so utterly isolated.