Bald-Headed Men - Alone in Antarctica: The First Woman to Ski Solo Across the Southern Ice - page 149

dragging half-remembered science from deep in my memory.
As I contemplated what I was seeing, I noticed something else.
I held back my excitement for a moment while I squinted hard
into the distance to try and be sure that I wasn't mistaken.
It was not one object up ahead, but two - and it wasn't the
shimmer of heat haze I could see but movement. The object, or
objects, were moving!
My mind scrambled for an explanation. Could it be people?
I rejected the idea instantly. Although I was aware that there
were other expeditions out here on the plateau heading for
the South Pole, in a continent larger than the United States of
America and Mexico combined it was highly unlikely that I
would bump into any of them. Having experienced the trickery
of Antarctica before, I felt sure that this mystery would be
resolved by a disappointingly mundane explanation. Even so, I
watched the dark shapes closely. Without any sense of scale in
the landscape around me it was impossible to guess accurately
how close I was and even though my curiosity was heightened
to the point that it made me itch, there was nothing I could do
but plod slowly onward towards the cryptic blobs. At times I
was convinced it was two objects moving independently while
at others I resigned myself sadly to the fact that this was no
more than two clusters of flags blowing in the wind.
After hours of hovering tantalisingly beyond identification,
the mysterious objects suddenly, within what felt like a matter
of seconds, drew immediately near.
There was now no doubt. The two objects were people - and
they were skiing towards me.
What was the etiquette for such a situation? For a brief
moment I wondered if I should ski dramatically to the right or
left in order to avoid the approaching duo - then I realised that