Paying Attention - Alone in Antarctica: The First Woman to Ski Solo Across the Southern Ice - page 39

against the side of the tent, the tap of a loose thread brushing
against taut tent fabric, the crackle of my sleeping bag around
my ears. Drowning out all else was the roar of the stillness. The
longer I lay listening, the greater the pitch of the silence. It built
steadily, filling my ears, vibrating in my head until it reached a
crescendo and I could bear it no more.
'Go Away!' I bellowed from my sleeping bag.
My irrational outburst seemed to help, as if the sound of
my own voice had broken a spell. I got comfortable again and
concentrated on remembering the sounds that had surrounded
me at Union Glacier, attempting to fool myself into thinking I
was still in the middle of a basecamp. In my mind I transformed
the noises of the wind into the faint snores of sleeping teams
in tents nearby and mutated the regular beat of my blood
pumping through my ears into the mechanical clamour of a
bulldozer. It seemed to work; at least, I woke to find the sun on
the opposite side of the tent and realised that I had slept.