Getting Out of the Tent - Alone in Antarctica: The First Woman to Ski Solo Across the Southern Ice - page 213

revealed itself in ever greater detail, the more I was drawn to
it. The nunatak was shaped like a blunted sphinx, its perfectly
smooth contours rising into a low summit joined by a gentle
saddle to a second, higher summit. My sight drifted up over
its back and settled on the flattened hilltop at its crown. It
looked like an uncomplicated hike and the summit promised
an elevated 360 degree view, the exhilaration of being able to
see forever, the inexplicable draw of being at the undisputed
'top' of something. As if in encouragement, the sun settled
directly above the higher summit and surrounded itself with a
spectacular halo like a presenting peacock. It was 22 January
and the distance to the coast appeared in single figures on my
GPS. For the first time on the expedition, I had time to spare.
At the base of the nunatak patches of snow and ice were
stranded in the spaces between boulders, petering out by
degrees higher up. I dragged my sledges onto one of the larger
snow islands, securing them carefully with my skis so that
there was no chance of them moving without me. The lower
flanks of the nunatak were a jumble of fractured ledges and
platforms of frost-shattered stone striped with distinct bands of
coloured rock; some dark, some pale, some blotched with dabs
of quartz. At first it felt strange to be on solid ground, to be
stepping rather than sliding, but soon I was hopping from ledge
to ledge, enjoying the sense of freedom. Without the weight
of my sledges dragging behind me, I felt unnaturally buoyant.
The gradient was easily manageable even in my square-toed
ski boots and, contouring around the slope at a slight angle, I
soon found myself on the lower of the two summits. Along the
saddle, belts of light and dark rock formed concentric circles,
one on top of the other. I stopped to look closer at the splinters
of rock that littered the ground coloured in vibrant orange and