By Joanna Lumley, Felicity Aston
Author note: Joanna Lumley (Foreword)
In the whirling noise of our advancing technological age, we're probably by no means on my own, by no means out-of-touch with the barrage of digital information and information.
Felicity Aston, physicist and meteorologist, took months off from all human touch as she grew to become the 1st girl -- and merely the 3rd individual in heritage – to ski around the whole continent of Antarctica by myself. She did it, too, with the easy equipment of cross-country, with no the aids utilized by her prededecessors – Norwegian males – every one of whom hired both parasails or kites.
Aston’s trip around the ice on the backside of the area requested of her the extremes when it comes to psychological and actual bravery, as she confronted the dangers of unseen cracks buried within the snow so huge they could engulf her and hypothermia because of brutalizing climate. She needed to deal, too, along with her emotional vulnerability in face of the consistent bombardment of hallucinations attributable to the giant sea of whiteness, the shortcoming of stimulation to her senses as she confronted what's tantamount to a kind of solitary confinement.
Like Cheryl Strayed’s Wild, Felicity Aston’s Alone in Antarctica turns into an inspirational saga of 1 woman’s go through worry and loneliness as she truthfully confronts either the actual demanding situations of her event, in addition to her personal human vulnerabilities.
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Extra info for Alone in Antarctica: The First Woman To Ski Solo Across The Southern Ice
Each mile brought something new, allowing me to peer between buttresses to see short valleys blocked by cataracts of ice, or glimpse sheer rock faces draped with hanging gardens of snow blocks. It was an endless conveyor belt of natural spectacle. I could feel myself rushing, pushing forward, eager for the next display. I couldn’t help my gaze flicking forward, searching the crags for any sign of the narrow corridor that would allow me through the mountains to the plateau beyond. Several times I was sure I could detect a gap, a slight cleft that looked as if it could lead to a route southward, but each time I came upon the head of the suspected corridor it would turn out to be something else.
I hoped this imagined reconstruction would limit the shock when I was finally out there for real. Others waiting at the basecamp vented their restive nerves by climbing nearby peaks, kite-skiing along the runway or exploring local ranges but I deliberately shied away from doing the same. My reasons were partly practical – I didn’t want to risk hurting myself in the days immediately before departure – but there was another less easily explained logic. I felt as if I had focused myself on the journey ahead to the point that it obscured all else; as if I didn’t have the mental capacity to think about anything but what lay ahead.
Then remembered no planes in Antarctica. It was the wind. @felicity_aston Struggling this morning. As I opened my eyes on that first morning alone in Antarctica, I could feel my mind swinging rapidly between sentimental despair and numb practicality. I attempted to implement some resilient thinking but marshalling my rampaging emotions seemed to require too much energy and I quickly gave up. I moved around the small shelter, zipping up bags, packing away items I wouldn’t need again that morning as I went and putting 54 LOO-JW on extra layers.
Alone in Antarctica: The First Woman To Ski Solo Across The Southern Ice by Joanna Lumley, Felicity Aston