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worn or blunted. New tears filled my eyes, this time from pure
and concentrated wonder.
I called out my usual greetings to the sun with genuine joy,
smiling as I packed away my camp. Waving thanks to the
ground beneath my tent for both a restful sleep and a fantastic
morning I skied away happily. I travelled that day with my
jacket open, wide vents fully unzipped down the sides to reveal
my thermals underneath. The zips of my insulated salopettes
were undone too, right the way from thigh to ankle, allowing
the brisk breeze to cool my thermal wrapped legs, the cuffs
of my leggings tucked into knee-length wool socks above my
boots. Skiing with long, smooth strides over an icy surface that
was cracked like a salt pan, I breathed deeply and smoothly in
an easy rhythm. The cough that had disturbed both my skiing
during the day and my sleep during the night in weeks past
had gone completely and it had been a while since I'd noticed
any problems with my kit. My watch, tested and reliable at
temperatures down to -40°C, had begun to lose time randomly
throughout the coldest days but had now returned to its
dependable timekeeping self; and my stove no longer belched
noxious fumes as it had done on the highest part of the route
for reasons that had defied all my attempts at troubleshooting.
Best of all - my lighters worked again. It couldn't be more
different from my memories of the 'wrong side' of Antarctica.
Despite my easy progress the countdown to the last day of the
season was never far from my mind and in an effort to make
the most of the advantageous conditions while they lasted I put
pressure on myself to be as efficient as possible. I was careful to
keep my breaks brief and I continued as late into the day as I
dared. I carried out my regular chores in the tent as quickly as
possible, constantly making small time-saving adjustments to
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