Bald-Headed Men - Alone in Antarctica: The First Woman to Ski Solo Across the Southern Ice - page 143

for adventure, my mind relentlessly buzzing with plans for
future journeys. And yet, as soon as my wish to disappear over
the horizon into some remote corner of the planet is granted,
my mind clings onto all the sentimental details of home and I
find that my daydreams of escaping across wide open spaces
are replaced not just by precious recollections of moments of
affection with a loved one but by fond memories of family
gatherings, jokes shared with siblings and time with friends.
Expeditions temporarily empty my life of all but the basic
concerns of eating, sleeping, travel and staying safe. Like
clearing undergrowth from a garden to discover the outline of
borders and flowerbeds underneath, reducing life to just the
essentials reveals the fundamental structure that underpins the
whole. I found that, with life at its most basic and my spirit
stretched, what was most dear to me was memories of time
spent with those I love. I take this as a clear indication that,
above all else, this is what is important in my life. It was a
lesson I had been taught before, but a lesson I needed to learn
again. It was a lesson I needed to remember.
Months after returning home, a priest in Italy sent me his
thoughts on Antarctica. He wrote of his belief that 'everything
must be stripped away in order to truly hear again'. The phrase
filled me with emotion because it expressed precisely something
I had felt deeply in Antarctica. It is a place that strips away all
but the essential and what is left is what is most important.
It enables a clarity of thought only possible when we are at
our rawest and most genuine - when we are scared, lonely,
exposed. What is more, the lack of any physical distraction
and the purity of the landscape allows the important questions
to float to the surface, allows us the space, freedom and clarity
to ponder our purpose and our place in the scheme of things.