Getting Out of the Tent - Alone in Antarctica: The First Woman to Ski Solo Across the Southern Ice - page 215

and timidity, not being able to see a way forward and held
back by the suspicion that I was making terrible mistakes. If
only I could speak to myself back then and give reassurance
that I was on the right track, that the decisions I was making
would lead me to good places. But no one can tell you the way,
you have to find it yourself - and the way is never clear until
you step forward.
My thoughts turned to the less metaphorical 'way' that
lay immediately ahead. I inspected the view to the north
for any sign of the coast. It was difficult in the layers of
shimmer to be sure what was cloud and what was snow
but I thought I could see a deep cleft in the landscape close
to the horizon, a richer shading that indicated an incline of
some sort. Might this be Hercules Inlet? The thought gave
me the momentum to move from my perch. I gave one last,
longing look around at the view below me and turned to
leave. It struck me then that I had climbed quickly to the
top of the nunatak without pause and without feeling even
the slightest bit out of breath. A climb like this, even when
training for an expedition, would normally have left me
gasping for air and my muscles burning. The constant low-
intensity exertion of skiing and the extended time at higher
altitudes must have left me in much better fitness than I
appreciated. As I trotted down the same slopes back to my
sledges I felt charged with energy and just a little bit pleased
with myself. Reconnecting my harness to the sledges I felt
unstoppable, all the fatigue of the past weeks forgotten and
the coast within what felt to be no more than a short stride
away. Little did I know that in the short distance that lay
ahead to the very edge of Antarctica I would face some of
the most demanding terrain of the entire journey.