Forty-Six - Alone in Antarctica: The First Woman to Ski Solo Across the Southern Ice - page 102

I had been completely alone for twenty long days but now
I was greeted by wide grins and enveloped in wonderfully
familiar Icelandic-sized hugs from both Gummi and Gisli.
They had come to find me and I was pathetically grateful to
see them. I was surprised not to be crying. The last three weeks
had been so emotional that I expected such a momentous event
to reduce me to a sobbing heap but some reflex kicked in, the
reflex that tells us what is acceptable behaviour in public. The
sudden noise and colour and movement made me feel sluggish
in comparison as if my brain needed a short delay to process
all the new information. Otherwise I was delighted at how easy
I found it to be normal. I could see the curiosity in my friends'
faces, each of them more bearded and ruddy than normal after
a month in the field. They had clearly been slightly nervous
about what they would find when they came looking for me.
'You look perfect - like you've been out for a day skiing!'
marvelled Gisli, obviously relieved.
It wasn't the place to try and explain that it was the struggle
on the inside that was the real fight. Already, wonderful as it
was to see them, I was worried about what the impact of this
meeting would be on my fragile emotional state.
It transpired that I was not the only reason for them to be
in this part of Antarctica. They were in convoy to the coast
but would be returning to the Pole in a week or so. It was
deflating to think that the ground it had taken me more than
three weeks to cover was no more than a few days' drive in
the modified vehicles. My mind drifted longingly to the heated
cabs and padded comfort of the trucks that I knew so well
and my expedition suddenly seemed ridiculously punishing in
contrast. Why was I putting myself through this when the same
journey could be made a lot faster and with a lot less effort