Bald-Headed Men - Alone in Antarctica: The First Woman to Ski Solo Across the Southern Ice - page 144

Returning home from a trip can be difficult; there is,
inevitably, a sense of anti-climax. Many people fill the hole left
by a past adventure by planning another trip or seeking the
next escape. I'm wary of doing the same, worried that it could
become a negative spiral, that I would become so intent on
adventure that I would lose the ability to be content at home.
Instead, I am determined that the two big pulls on my life,
adventure and home, should provide me with balance rather
than conflict. I cannot envision a future for myself without
travel and adventure but expeditions also teach me to value the
pleasures of everyday life. When tempted to moan about the
annoyances of a crowded supermarket, I remind myself of how
incredible the thought of wandering around a place stocked
with every food imaginable appeared to me when tucking into
repetitive rations in a tent. If I find myself less than enthusiastic
about travelling to a family event, I reminisce about how much
I would have given for such a pleasure when in the wilderness.
The same process works in reverse; when feeling sorry for
myself in a cold tent I made sure to recollect that I was living
my dream. I believe the two halves of my life can complement
each other and work in harmony; expeditions teach me to
appreciate the blessings of home; and home reinforces the
value of adventures.
Turning off the camera I slipped out the battery and tucked
it down my front where it lived in my sports-top alongside a
lighter, MP3 player and satellite phone power pack. Bracing
myself against the burn of cold material I thrust my feet to
the very bottom of my sleeping bag, awkwardly twisting the
rest of my body into place. Fastening the zip, I reached for the
metal fuel bottle that was normally attached to my stove. The
bottle was empty but the pump, which pressurises the liquid