Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
The difficulty started almost immediately. The ground from
the edge of the nunatak fell away into an immense windscoop
with slicks of blue ice pooled at the bottom. There was no way
to go around the windscoop completely as it tailed directly
across my path but at least the slope down into it that lay
directly ahead looked less severe than the gradients further to
the left or right. There was nothing for it but to go straight
down. I set off, holding my skis rigidly parallel to each other,
feeling the glide of the slope beneath me. The crusted snow
surface was studded with circular sastrugi that rose in platforms
like inverted wedding cakes, the wind having eroded all the
softer snow from around their bases, and they were as tough
as plaster. As I picked up speed my ski tips were deflected from
them like a pinball wizard. I was jolted off balance several
times before finally pulling myself into a halt. My sledges,
which had bounced violently along behind me, swung around
on the rope attached to the harness at my waist and jack-knifed
on the slope a few feet below, pulling me roughly forward. I
paused for a moment, suspended precariously on the slope and
rethought. I couldn't risk being pulled over and injured by my
own sledges thundering down the slope behind me. Instead,
I allowed my sledges to slide ahead like an eager dog taking
its owner for a walk, and angled my skis against the slope
so that I made steady but laborious zigzags down the glacis.
It was awkward, so I was relieved when the slope began to
flatten out. Eventually I felt confident enough to release the
sledges, overtaking them as I glided downward under gravity.
There was still enough of a gradient to pick up some speed.
I squealed in delight as I clattered over the uneven sastrugi
followed in hot pursuit by my sledges. Reaching the bottom
panting but grinning I glanced upward at the slope we'd just
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