Every Step - Alone in Antarctica: The First Woman to Ski Solo Across the Southern Ice - page 21

at the door of my apartment and the postman asked, 'Are you
that explorer?'
I looked at him blankly for a second, wondering how he
could possibly know. Then I realised that in the entranceway
behind me a sledge and a pair of skis were propped against the
wall and a large kit bag was spilling an assortment of goggles,
jackets and boots over the floor. To get to the doorbell he'd had
to step over a large box of fuel bottles and cooking pots.
'Yes, I guess so,' I answered with a smile.
'Ah, thought as much,' he said. 'Well, good luck.'
He handed me my post and was gone.
One of the letters in my hand was marked 'Open on the 31st
October'. It was the date I was to leave for Antarctica and I
recognised the handwriting; it was from my sister. Overcoming
the urge to look inside immediately, I tucked it safely out of
sight in my luggage.
When the day of departure arrived I deliberately tried to
avoid as many goodbyes as possible. I think I was scared
that if I let myself feel nervous or upset I might not be able
to regain control. I wanted to fool myself into thinking that
I was simply going away on just another trip. The deception
seemed to make my nerves easier to handle but by midnight
I found myself on the first stop of my journey to Antarctica,
sitting alone in the airport terminal at Madrid feeling utterly
miserable. Surrounded by strangers, I don't think I had ever
felt more isolated. This was only the first stage in a very long
journey and yet I already seemed to be an incredibly long way
from home. As the countdown to my departure had diminished
from weeks to days and finally to hours, I had increasingly felt
like a swimmer clinging to the side of a boat over a deep ocean.