Forty-Six - Alone in Antarctica: The First Woman to Ski Solo Across the Southern Ice - page 83

greater part to my reasoning. I got out of the tent several times
throughout the day to assess the weather but I don't think that,
if I was honest with myself, I had any real intention of moving.
Instead I sat inside the tent agonising over my decision and
compensating for it by thinking up as many good uses for my
time as possible. I heaved my second sledge into the vestibule
of my tent so that I could reorganise my daily ration bags and
consolidate all the food I hadn't eaten. Despite the fact that I
still felt nauseous most of the time I was at least now managing
to eat a full meal every evening and a good portion of the
chocolate and snacks allocated during the day.
I made some small adjustments to my kit and then turned
my attention to a problem I had been steadfastly ignoring for a
while. At some point during my battle up the Leverett Glacier
I had noticed that the heel of my right foot was rolling off the
shaft of my ski with every step. The boots I wore were of a
traditional design, a soft wool boot encased in an outer layer
of stiffened canvas and leather, and were attached by a clamp-
like binding at the toe leaving the heel free to make a walking
motion easier on the cross-country skis. The constant slip was
causing an ache across the top of my foot and up into my shin.
To prevent the ache turning into an injury I could feel myself
compensating with each stride and this in turn was putting
pressure on my already temperamental knee. It was clear
that the binding had been fastened to the ski off-centre by an
infinitesimal amount, even though by sight it looked perfectly
straight. I hadn't noticed the problem during my short training
weekends before departure and it was only now, a fortnight
into the expedition, that the problem became apparent.
It was awkward to manoeuvre a 194 cm ski around a small
two-person tent but I warmed the ski first next to my body