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Recently, the south pole expeditions have been in the news. While such unconventional expeditions come to light once in a long time, they merely become a matter of a headline before it is forgotten for good, and there lie the endless stories attached to it - unheard and unsaid that might inspire many. One such inspirational journey was that of Satish Gogineni, who took an expedition recently and became the first Indian to ski solo and unsupported to the South Pole, but for a special cause.
As per a recent announcement by the UN, more than a billion people around the world – which amounts to around one in every seven – were living with mental health conditions in 2021, with anxiety and depressive disorders being two-thirds of all cases. Gogineni started a project called 'Project Spandana' in 2023 as a tribute to his cousin Spandana, who died by suicide, while earlier he lost his mother to suicide in 2011, making him take an expedition to raise awareness around the mental health challenges that Indians face.
Edited excerpt from the interview:
1. You have mentioned before in other interviews how you didn’t want the journey to come to an end, the journey of 51 days and 1133 km, Amundsen–Scott South Pole Station. Tell us what the major reasons are for that? How was the experience of those days, and what would you mostly think about during this time?
Honestly, I didn’t want the journey to end because it gave me something most of us rarely get—complete presence. Each day was stripped of distraction: ski for 11+ hours, set up camp, melt snow, eat, sleep, repeat. But in that monotony, I found something deeper—peace, clarity, and purpose. When I reached the South Pole after 51 days and 1,133 kilometres, I felt pride, but also a strange emptiness. That white silence had become a mirror, a sanctuary. I wasn’t ready to let it go. Most days, I thought about my family—my mother, my cousin Spandana, and the “why” behind the journey. I’d revisit memories, process grief, and remind myself why I started Project Spandana. There was pain, yes, but also healing. Antarctica became a place where I didn’t have to pretend to be okay. I could just be.
2. In 2022, you became the fastest Indian to summit Mt Everest and Mt Lhotse in 18 hours. How do you think such achievements help in Indians’ representation on the globe? Have you had to feel the representation being marginalised when you moved to the US?
Becoming the fastest Indian to summit Everest and Lhotse within 18 hours was not just a personal milestone—it was a statement. It showed that Indians can lead, not just follow, in extreme environments. Representation matters, and when people from underrepresented backgrounds achieve something on a global stage, it challenges outdated stereotypes. In the U.S., especially in outdoor and endurance spaces, I did feel the lack of representation. Often, I’d be the only brown face on a mountain or at an expedition training. That invisibility fuels marginalisation—not overtly, but through a quiet, persistent sense of not belonging. That’s why visibility through achievements matters. When young Indians see someone who looks like them at the top of Everest or skiing to the South Pole, it expands their belief in what’s possible. And belief is powerful.
That’s partly why I started True North Expeditions—to address the gap in both safety and representation in adventure sports.
3. Share with us the major reasons for taking up a solo Polar expedition and what went behind it?
After climbing five 8,000-meter peaks and completing marathons, I wanted a challenge that went beyond the physical—a test of solitude, resilience, and mental endurance. Reading about Preet Chandi’s Antarctic expedition lit a fire in me. A solo, unsupported ski to the South Pole felt like the ultimate test—not just of strength, but of purpose. Behind the decision was a deep personal loss. I lost my mother and cousin to suicide, and I’ve battled my own mental health struggles quietly for years. This expedition became my way of turning pain into purpose—carrying their memories and raising awareness through Project Spandana.
Logistically, it took months of training across extreme environments—Baffin Island, Greenland, endless tire drags, and hours of navigation drills. But the real preparation was internal—learning how to be truly alone with my thoughts, fears, and past. It is also by far the most expensive expedition I’ve undertaken, and securing funds to be at the start line was an expedition by itself!
4. What were the major difficulties during the expedition that you were not ready for? What all did your bag carry, and what was the weight?
Antarctica has a way of humbling you, no matter how prepared you think you are. What I wasn’t fully ready for was the combination of extreme fatigue, relentless sastrugi (jagged snow ridges), and “polar thigh”—a painful frostbite condition I developed on my thighs, knees, and buttocks. Every ski stroke after that became excruciating. My sledge weighed 126 kg—much heavier than average because I couldn’t work with a nutritionist in time and had to pack higher-volume food. It carried everything I needed to survive for 51 days: a tent, stove, fuel, sleeping gear, food, GPS, satellite phone, solar panels, emergency kit, clothing layers, and spares for everything from bindings to batteries. Every ounce mattered. And every extra ounce was felt.
5. How does food intake look during such expeditions?
Food becomes fuel—nothing fancy, just survival-grade nutrition. I consumed around 5,000 to 6,000 calories a day, though I was burning more. Most of it came from high-fat, high-carb sources like freeze-dried meals, cheese blocks, nuts, salami, chocolate, peanut butter, protein bars, and butter—yes, butter straight up. I’d melt snow to make hot meals in the tent, but most snacks were eaten on the go to save time. I’d stop for 10 minutes every 1 hour to hydrate and eat. Your body starts craving salt and fat intensely. And despite eating constantly, I still lost a significant amount of weight. The challenge is balancing weight with caloric density. Every food choice has to earn its place in the sled.
6. You have mentioned that your mental health issues and past life trauma have been the reasons for taking up such an initiative. Do you think such initiatives do help in spreading the word? How so? How do you think this has helped after your expedition?
Absolutely. Initiatives like this do help—because they open a door that’s often kept shut. For years, I carried my trauma silently—outwardly functional, inwardly unravelling. When I finally chose to speak up through Project Spandana, it allowed others to do the same. The South Pole wasn’t just a physical achievement—it was a platform. From that white emptiness, I could speak about mental health without shame, and people listened. Since the expedition, I’ve had dozens of people—especially young Indians—reach out and say, “Thank you for making it okay to not be okay.” That kind of impact is hard to measure, but incredibly real. This journey helped me reclaim my own story—and hopefully gave others the courage to begin writing theirs.
7. In India, taking up adventure sports or activities is not usually promoted in conventional settings. How do you see that?
Adventure is still seen as a luxury or a distraction in many parts of India, not as a legitimate path. We’re conditioned to pursue stability—engineering, medicine, finance—because risk is seen as failure. But adventure teaches you things no classroom can—resilience, patience, grit, problem-solving. And it can also be a powerful tool for mental well-being, leadership, and personal growth. Through True North Expeditions, I’m working to shift that mindset—by mentoring youth, especially from underrepresented communities, and showing that adventure isn’t just for the privileged or the Western world. It can be Indian, too. We need new role models—people who take the road less travelled and make it visible. That’s how change begins.
8. What are you working on or training for right now? What is the next goal?
Right now, I’m focused on growing True North Expeditions into a lasting platform for mentorship, representation, and safety in adventure sports. I’m also giving Project Spandana more structure, so more athletes and storytellers can carry the mission forward. As for expeditions—I’m preparing for a major one in Antarctica in late 2026. It’s a world-first attempt, and if no one does it in 2025, I’ll be attempting it. It’ll be longer, harder, and more complex than anything I’ve done before. I can’t share too much yet, but it’s a challenge that excites and scares me—which is usually a sign that I’m on the right path.