LOO-JW - Alone in Antarctica: The First Woman to Ski Solo Across the Southern Ice - page 60

tearing at the half-erected tent. The ground was too hard to
drive in the end of my skis, so I chipped deep trenches for my
skis and poles, looping the ends of the guy ropes around them
before packing the trenches with snow so that it set as hard as
stone on top of my improvised anchors.
The final guy rope I wrapped around the wooden post and
secured with a carabiner which gave me hope that, even if my
tent was flattened and destroyed by the wind, tying it to the
post would at least stop me and the tent setting off down the
glacier like a runaway bobsled. I did the same with my sledges,
fastening them to the post and digging big pits so that they
were buried up to their rims. Finally, retrieving my shovel, I
laboriously heaped snow around the skirts of the tent so that
by the time I had finished only the top half of the short tubular
Hilleberg was still visible.
I stumbled around the perimeter of my shelter one last time,
tensioning ropes and checking attachments before dropping to
my knees and pushing myself through the constricted doorway.
Hastily sealing the tent entrance behind me, I cowered on all
fours in the small vestibule breathing hard. It had taken me
two and a half hours to complete a task that usually took me
no more than twenty minutes.
Shaking the worst of the snow from my clothing I pulled
down my hood and ripped the mask and goggles from my
face so that I could better look around me. The tent was being
pummelled by regular waves of wind rolling down from the top
of the glacier. With each hit the tent visibly flattened, putting
immense strain on both the poles and the taut material. Despite
the generous volume of snow piled on all sides to strengthen
the structure, it looked as if my precious shelter might explode
with the stress at any moment.