Sundogs and Haloes - Alone in Antarctica: The First Woman to Ski Solo Across the Southern Ice - page 179

each push I seemed to glide further than expected and it slowly
dawned on me that I wasn't simply being carried forward by
euphoria, but by gravity. I was skiing down a gentle incline
with enough gradient that I was able to glide almost without
effort, using momentum alone. The motion became more
pronounced until I could push myself forward using only my
ski poles. I whooped aloud at the discovery, delighted at being
able to use a different technique and at the modest sensation
of speed.
Looking ahead I noticed the horizon shorten, as if I was
approaching an edge. I stopped to try and understand what I
was looking at and noticed that my sledge slid to a leisurely halt,
not behind me as usual, but to one side, threatening to overtake
me. The forward view was soft and blended with the texture
of a dream and at first my brain struggled to make sense of
the information received from my eyes. Flat splodges of cloud
cast confusing shadows which pockmarked the ground and
obliterated any perspective. To my left the mountains stood
sentinel-like in streaks of purple and gold. Catching sight of
them gave sudden scale to the scene and my mind reeled at the
realisation of how far I could see. Finally, I could appreciate
the magnitude of the slope below me. I approached the lip
cautiously, eager to feel the glide of the gradient and yet filled
with unease, like a nervous rider on the summit of a roller
coaster. I soon felt the pull of gravity, my skis sliding onwards
beneath me as if by themselves, their metal edges rasping
roughly on the icy surface. I found that I could keep my skis
parallel to each other, not moving my feet at all, and simply
propel myself forward with my poles. Then, as I gathered
speed, I stopped paddling with my poles and used them for
balance instead, messily jabbing the ground to keep myself