Life Raft - Alone in Antarctica: The First Woman to Ski Solo Across the Southern Ice - page 122

I stood alone at the Pole staring down in baffled annoyance
at my own distorted reflection, surrounded by the fury of an
Antarctic blizzard. The livid colours of the flags that snapped
on their poles arranged in a semi-circle around the space were
dulled by the oppression of snow and cloud. Despite the noisy
rage of the wind I was given a moment of odd clarity. I too,
like so many others, had fallen for the addictive attraction of
the Pole and I wondered anew what exactly this specific point
in space represented for me that was so important I would put
myself through such emotional turmoil to reach it. It suddenly
seemed that the Pole itself was responsible for bringing me
here and for all the trials of the past weeks.
I noticed my unexpected feelings with interest and sensed a
deeper question forming but this was not the time to ponder it.
As if defying a tyrant I turned my back on the silver sphere to
face my friends who were waiting close by. They handed me the
British flag from the selection surrounding the Pole and I stood in
triumphant pose as they took the expected pictures. The flag was
heavy with the resistance of the wind in its billowing material
and as I fought against the incompliant weather a stranger in a
red padded parka emerged from the blowing snow. His hood
was pulled down low over his face and the wind buffeted him
so forcefully that he stumbled towards us like a drunk from
the direction of the station. It was unusual for anyone from the
station to greet a non-official arrival at the Pole, so it was with
great surprise that, as the stranger patted me on the back, I felt
an illicit apricot being pressed into my palm.
Another member of staff made a rather more dramatic arrival
in one of the station's monumental tractors. Jumping from the
cab she handed me a bag containing a clutch of fresh basil, a
nectarine and (more practically) a pack of baby wipes with