Sundogs and Haloes - Alone in Antarctica: The First Woman to Ski Solo Across the Southern Ice - page 182

anguish recalling all the difficult emotions of the past weeks
and reliving them slightly in the process - but it was matched
by the elation of knowing that I had faced all those emotional
trials and reached this point in spite of them. As I skied those
last metres to the depot I allowed myself to dwell on the
journey so far and it left me with a feeling of pride.
At the depot I found a cluster of fuel drums lashed together
in the snow and, a few paces away, a knotted black bin liner
shored up with dunes of drift on the ground. Two willowy
canes crossed over the bag like guardians, each cane topped
with a small black pennant twitching in the constant breeze -
the flickering dark spots I had seen from a distance. I pitched
my tent close by without touching the depot.
It was a sun-filled day so I was able to empty the remaining
contents of my sledges onto the snow to take stock of what
I had. Having reached the resupply at least five days quicker
than expected, I found I had much more stove fuel than I would
need. I didn't want to carry the extra weight so my only option
was to use it - and I knew immediately what I wanted more
than anything else, barring company. With the tent door wide
open I melted pan after pan of snow on the stove until I had
filled every container I possessed with hot water. For the first
time since leaving Union Glacier I took off all my clothes then,
placing a foam sleeping mat on the snow outside the tent door,
I stepped, naked, into the polar chill. I felt the cold on my skin
but with nothing more than a breeze stirring the air it felt only
refreshing, like stepping out of a stuffy room into the open.
Having arranged the water-filled containers within easy
reach I grabbed the first, closed my eyes and lifted my face
to the sky as I poured deliciously warm water slowly and
deliberately over my head. The sensation was ecstatic. There