Skiing in the Dark - Alone in Antarctica: The First Woman to Ski Solo Across the Southern Ice - page 207

skyline was crowded with them. I was amazed at how quickly
a shadowy lump transformed into a defined peak and at how
quickly each cluster emerged out of the distance and became a
part of the whole. I appeared to be skiing right into the arms
of the mountain range and being surrounded by it. Three peaks
in particular loomed proud of the rest and I eventually realised
that this was because they were closer than the others. As their
white rounded forms protruded ever larger I finally recognised
them as the line of three pimple-like nunataks known as Three
Sails. These were the peaklets I had seen from the plane on my
way to the start of my journey.
I remembered how I had gazed down at them and had tried
to imagine how I would feel when I saw those peaks again.
Back then the expanse of Antarctica had been an unknown
in my future. Now it was a memory in my past. In the time
between I had gained exact knowledge of what crossing that
expanse would entail. I now knew there would be endless days
of whiteout, skies that could absorb the mind for weeks and
moments of utter isolation. More importantly I knew how I
would react to those challenges as a person. My ability to cope
had perhaps been the biggest unknown of all and the greatest
source of my pre-expedition nerves. I now knew that, despite
tears and madness and anxiety, I would - and could - endure.
I had been afraid to a greater or lesser extent every single day
but looking back I understood that fear is not a weakness. It
is how we deal with that fear that determines our strength.
The knowledge that I was capable of persevering brought with
it a gentle self-assurance. As a result, the person looking at
the mountains having skied more than a thousand miles was
a different woman to the one who had looked down on this
exact spot some two months earlier.