Bald-Headed Men - Alone in Antarctica: The First Woman to Ski Solo Across the Southern Ice - page 158

without clambering in and out of the deep spaces formed like
windscoops at their bases. I shivered but it wasn't the cold giving
me goosebumps, rather the landscape. The dirty brown of the
light, the otherworldly silhouettes of the enormous sastrugi and
the foreboding I felt made the scene eerie. The terrain took on
a nefarious aggression of its own, yet I responded by refusing
to be daunted. I could feel my determination rising to meet the
intimidation of the environment. I realised I was reaping the
benefit of previous expedition experiences. I had laboured over
arduous ground with sledges before and knew that despite the
formidable appearance of the chaos ahead, there would be a
way through it. This was the sort of challenge I had come to
Antarctica better prepared to face and for once I felt like I was
in familiar territory. I glanced upward at the now blinding light
flooding through the cracks in the cloud. There was no audible
promise but I could feel its reassurance. The sun would be with
me every stumbling step of the way.
With care I alternately cajoled and yanked my two sledges
over and around obstacle after obstacle. As much as possible
I tried to keep to the high ground where the snow was firmer,
blown solid by the pressure of the wind, but frequently the
path of least resistance led me down into gulches where snow
the consistency of silt gathered in drifts. Continuously climbing
up and over the disrupted terrain was tiring but as I glanced at
my watch and noticed that it was time to camp I had to admit
that I was enjoying myself. The sun had held its place in the sky
and the mammoth sastrugi, despite being intimidating, were
undeniably impressive. I felt as if I had spent the afternoon
clambering through a closely packed sculpture park. Some of
the blocks of wind-packed snow had sides so smooth that I
could run my gloved fingers along their surfaces, leaving deep