Forty-Six - Alone in Antarctica: The First Woman to Ski Solo Across the Southern Ice - page 90

Despite the flood of drifting snow that made everything a little
bleary, I could see a clear horizon and a panoply of texture
had rematerialised on the ground. The sastrugi were now
revealed in every detail. As I turned on the spot devouring the
view I suddenly realised what was missing. I span my head
around the horizon to be sure. It was true. The mountains
were gone. I felt a slight sense of shock; they had been so
close just a few days before but now there was not so much
as a blip on the skyline to betray that they had ever existed. It
meant that I was well and truly on the polar plateau. The next
feature I would see would be the Thiel Mountains some 800
kilometres away. Until then, the level, unremitting horizon
would be my only geography.
As if trying to compensate for the lack of larger scale
topography, the sastrugi grew in size and number during the
day. Sleek lines of graceful arcs and domes rose out of the
ground, sculpted by the wind into fantastical shapes. I passed
rolling horses and waiting toads, predatory fish and majestic
orcas, sleeping bears and hunting cats. Lovely as it was to have
such distraction from my thoughts, the sastrugi often made life
difficult. Usually I was able to ski around the largest obstacles
but occasionally one group would run into the next so that it
was debatable whether a detour was any better than simply
ploughing through the uneven patches. Time and again I'd
heave my sledges over the dips and ridges, smashing my ski
tips into the fins and protrusions of solidifying snow, wading
through the softness in between where drift had collected.
I revelled in the fact that the custom-made articulated sledge
was working well. Not once did it roll or snag as I forced a
path through the choppy ground. Nevertheless, it was hard
work. I found myself panting with exertion, regularly stopping