Forty-Six - Alone in Antarctica: The First Woman to Ski Solo Across the Southern Ice - page 89

occur in the eighty-seventh degree of latitude, forming a loose
band around the Pole like an asteroid belt around the sun. The
Americans call it 'Sastrugi National Park' and with satisfaction
I noted it meant I had completed my first full degree of latitude
since leaving the coast. It was a tenuous milestone to celebrate
but I grasped hold of it regardless and enjoyed the thought that
I was skiing into a brand new degree.
After skiing for just over ten hours I stopped to camp in a
tight space between two large configurations of sastrugi, each
motionless wave curling over the last like a pod of porpoising
dolphins trying to outdo each other. Once I had finished
pitching the tent and pushed all the items I would need from
my sledges into the vestibule, I lingered outside in the open to
appreciate my unusually scenic campsite. The sun was burning
a circular impression in the white sky above. A solar halo
surrounded it, the lower edge of the silver ring almost brushing
the grey suggestion of a horizon. It was mournfully beautiful
and felt like a benediction from the heavens. I took it as a sign
of protection and encouragement.
I woke several times during the night to feel the blaze of
sunshine on my face through the thin fabric of the tent. The
weather had turned. I felt as excited as a child on Christmas
morning as I abandoned my strict morning routine, throwing
on my clothes before breakfast so that I could scramble out
of the tent to take a look. If I hadn't been so stiff from lying
on the ground I would have jumped for joy. Instead I made
my cheeks hurt with the width of my grin and I felt myself
whimper pathetically, hovering between laughter and tears.
The sky was blue. A pale opaline blue, but blue nonetheless.
It wasn't a perfect day but the sky was back and the clouds
had reduced to translucent towers of vapour drifting overhead.