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aPril 24
This morning, it was still snowing and it looked as though everything
had been sugar-dusted, like a Christmas cake. The ground and the
sky were brilliant white. There were no shadows, because the sun was
behind fog. The day went reasonably well, although a strong northerly
headwind picked up at around 11 am—it felt like a razor cutting into
my face. It found a way inside every zipper and flap. To take my mind
off the pain, I thought about the juice bar back at Coogee in Sydney. In
training, every morning I would run to the airport along the sea walk
and back, then get a juice or a smoothie there as a reward.
We are all looking forward to the resupply tomorrow, even though
it will mean that our sleds will be heavy again.
There is little light-heartedness in each day. There'll be the occa-
sional joke, or a funny or inspiring text or email from home or from
someone following the run, but mainly it's the grimmest of slogs. Mov-
ing forwards across this region demands total concentration: to slip
on the ice or stumble while crossing a pressure ridge could mean a
Ful ly lad en— drag ging my 10 0-kil ogra m loa d.
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