Getting Out of the Tent - Alone in Antarctica: The First Woman to Ski Solo Across the Southern Ice - page 221

and I wasn't filled with a sense of achievement; there was just
surprise and perhaps a small sense of anti-climax. After all, I
was still alone, just me and Antarctica, exactly as it had been
for the past two months.
I pulled out my satellite phone and sat with it in my lap
for a moment before calling Union Glacier. Beneath the
congratulations, I could hear relief in Steve's voice that I
was done and sensed that I was now one less concern in a
hugely complex logistical picture he was wrestling with as
the season drew to a close. They were going to send a plane
for me within hours.
'I promise you that by this evening you'll be in the warm
with a glass of red wine,' Steve told me.
As I rang off the thought of the promised comfort and
imminent company broke through my sense of bewilderment
and, at last, the tears came.
I was going home.
The alone-ness that had pressed down on me for so long
and held me in taut high-alert would soon be replaced with
the warmth and security of company. Within hours I would be
able to release myself from mental hibernation and relax into
a more familiar version of myself. All I had to do was sit tight.
I woke to cheerful sunlight filtering through the bright yellow
lining of my faithful Hilleberg and felt rigidly tense. Then I
remembered. Today I didn't have to leap out of my sleeping
bag to chase the horizon - I was already where I had to be. I
relaxed into the warmth and let my mind settle. The previous
evening I'd set up my tent to wait for the plane and called
Union Glacier on the hour every hour to report on the weather
for the pilots - but each time I did so I was told that the plane