Life Raft - Alone in Antarctica: The First Woman to Ski Solo Across the Southern Ice - page 120

I imagined the worst possible scenario that might arise
and then methodically lectured myself on all the reasons,
firstly, why this scenario was unlikely and, secondly, why I
would easily be able to get myself back on track. I became so
absorbed in my thoughts that when a dense silhouette loomed
out of the blowing snow it made me jump. I could make out
a curved edge and recognised it as one of the domed satellite
dish buildings that surround the station. Within a hundred
metres the dome had sunk back into the blizzard but it didn't
matter. I drew solace from the sight even though it didn't
mean I wasn't skiing right past the station and back out onto
the plateau. I returned to my thoughts and to my comforting
internal monologue. Keeping the flagline close to my right-
hand side, I fixed my gaze on my ski tips, refusing to look
up even as I thought I sensed a miniscule improvement in
the light.
Finally, after what felt like endless hours, a huge dark mass
rose out of the gloom and I recognised the blunt end of the
Amundsen-Scott station. My brain made rapid calculations.
I decided I must be directly opposite the main entrance of the
station on the far side of the runway. I looked for the beacon
telling me where I could cross the skiway and guided my eyes
forward to where I knew the ceremonial silver ball surrounded
by flags should be that marks the South Pole.
I slowed my pace as I skied those last few hundred metres,
enjoying the sense of relief that pulsed through me in waves. It
was as if each part of me took its individual turn to relax. My
body and my mind had been on high-alert for twenty-six days
and for 625 kilometres but now, at last, I was safe. Safe from
the cold and safe from the alone-ness. It was like grabbing hold
of a life raft after being adrift at sea. The frustrations of the