Skiing in the Dark - Alone in Antarctica: The First Woman to Ski Solo Across the Southern Ice - page 200

door I checked and adjusted the stove before sitting in the
porch gasping for breath, transfixed by my spectacular lack of
judgement. Was this the decline in my reasoning that I had so
feared? Had fear and panic, left unchecked by the absence of
a team, driven me to reckless lunacy? Could I no longer rely
on my own mind? I dissolved into despondent tears. I don't
remember ever feeling so desperate. My scrambled thoughts
couldn't seem to find one single positive to cling to. Above all
I felt like a fool for putting myself into this situation. All my
justifications for making this journey now seemed pathetically
hollow. I would have given my soul in that moment for some
solid semblance of safety, to be surrounded by friends, to have
the security of a team, to be able to see a sound way home, to
not have to run the gauntlet of crevasses for a single step more.
'Think…' I scribbled impatiently in my small notebook but I
couldn't seem to find a shred of comfort in anything. My sense
had deserted me.
I dreaded the morning and the mental anguish I knew it
would bring. I expected the war of wills in my mind to be
worse than ever.
I woke feeling overwhelmed with fear and desolation. Lying
motionless in my sleeping bag, I recited under my breath
the words above the tent door, now so worn as to be barely
visible, 'Let routine take command of feeling.' I forced myself
to think only of my jobs, to recall all the usual mind tricks to
pull myself together, from imaginary team-mates to the most
vicious of critics - only to dissolve into bleakness. I couldn't
rid myself of the vision of lurking crevasses and the potential
consequences should I find one. The fear was paralysing and
no amount of careful logic could cut through it. I thought of
the faith my family had in me not to get into trouble, of their