Life Raft - Alone in Antarctica: The First Woman to Ski Solo Across the Southern Ice - page 125

was where I had found them. In contrast, if I skied out of the
Pole I would be alone entirely by my own choice and with a
full understanding of what waited for me. Having grasped this
miraculous life raft gleefully, I was facing the realisation that I
would have to release it again in order to swim for shore.
The realisation made me wary of relaxing too much; I
couldn't afford to let my guard down completely. As much as
I appreciated the feel and security of company in the visitors'
camp I avoided socialising in the mess tent - I wasn't ready to
talk about my experiences yet, as if I might hex myself for the
journey still to come. Instead I sat with my friends from the
convoy and listened to them sharing their stories with each
other, happy to blend into the background surrounded by
noise and laughter. I produced my precious clutch of basil in
thanks for their hospitality which was added to the dehydrated
meal for taste and divided the apricot into small sections to
be passed around like hors d'oeuvres. The fragment of fruit
I popped into my mouth might have been tiny but it was as
flavoursome and juicy as a ripe berry.
During the long emotional ski from the Leverett Glacier I'd
all but made the decision that I would not continue beyond the
Pole. Just as the tides beat out a global rhythm that cannot be
resisted, however, I found that the momentum of my journey
wouldn't be stopped. I drifted through my rest day unwilling
or unable to give the decision the thought it deserved. It
seemed unreal that I was to return to that state of high-alert
that I had so recently thrown off. Already my memory of
the anguish I had felt every morning was softening. Could it
really have felt so bad?
As if to prove that I must surely be mistaken, Antarctica
looked benignly beautiful on the morning of my departure. The