Paying Attention - Alone in Antarctica: The First Woman to Ski Solo Across the Southern Ice - page 31

had flown over the endless patterns of the plateau, and my
tremors were replaced with defiance. I wanted to stay, I wanted
to camp, I wanted to be out there. Cautiously I got out of my
seat and moved around the unsteady aircraft, peering through
different windows in an attempt to get my bearings. I tried
to match the flattened view of the mountains to what I could
remember of my map. Away to the right was a vast corridor
of ice that I reasoned must be the Reedy Glacier. I knew
the Reedy was the last in the series of ice-routes across the
Transantarctic Mountains and as I could see no other glaciers
beyond the snaking ice-river below, I took it as my best guess.
Working my way to the left I figured that on the other side of
the rock barrier almost beneath the plane's wing must be the
Leverett. Anxiety bubbled in my veins like soda as I willed the
plane onwards to a better vantage point and my first glimpse
of the Leverett Glacier, but as soon as we moved high enough
over the intervening peaks to see beyond, the tiny aircraft was
enveloped in cloud. I strained at the range of my restricted
view through the windows to spot any gap in the cloud - then
suddenly it was there.
Beneath me, unmistakably, was the Leverett Glacier.
It looked even smaller in actuality than it had on the maps.
A tiny channel of white, sandwiched between tall barriers of
rock. I stared fixated, burning the image into my memory.
Ice clung to the sides of the peaks channelling the glacier in
cataracts of irregular blocks, but there were no frightening rib
cages of crevasses to be seen. It looked far more manageable
than any of the other sweeping glaciers we had flown over
and distinctly less terrifying. As I looked, I noticed a tiny dark
thread running along the centre of the glacier, ending in a series
of dark specks. At first I was confused, then I realised what I