Life Raft - Alone in Antarctica: The First Woman to Ski Solo Across the Southern Ice - page 132

foundations of the sheer rock faces below. I felt a desire to see
those mountains again, to touch a point of commonality with
my outward journey. I wanted to feel that a circle had been
completed and to enjoy the satisfaction of a circuit, even if it
was not the one I had planned. A new resolution took shape
in my head. I would give my all to every single day and see
how far I could get before the plane came to find me in the
days leading up to 26 January. If I was strict with my routines
- getting out of the tent promptly in the mornings, keeping my
breaks brief and efficient, skiing for the maximum number of
hours while still allowing time for decent sleep - I considered
it a good chance that I would see Thiel Mountains before I
saw the plane. As I flew away from the ice I would need to
know that there wasn't any more I could have done, that I had
got as far across Antarctica as I possibly could. That was my
covenant to myself.
To seal the pact I fetched the pot of peanut butter from my
sledge and scooped a large spoonful so that the creamy paste
crinkled into a thick heap of pleasure. A generous spoonful
was to be my daily ration so that the pot lasted for as long as
possible. I ate the peanut butter like ice cream, delighting in
the salty sweetness of it. Sitting snug in my sun-warmed tent,
looking out at a mesmerising view, alone in one of the remotest
of places, it seemed that to leave this place of wonder sooner
than I had to would be a sacrilege. Being alone again didn't
feel as awful as I had feared; I didn't dare allow myself even
to think it for fear of a jinx, but I might have even said that
I was feeling comfortable with the isolation. I was in what I
consider to be my spiritual home on the journey of my life. If
I ever needed to summon the best of me it was now and in the
days and weeks ahead. As I waited for sleep in my down nest