By Joanna Lumley, Felicity Aston
Author note: Joanna Lumley (Foreword)
In the whirling noise of our advancing technological age, we're possible by no means on my own, by no means out-of-touch with the barrage of digital facts and information.
Felicity Aston, physicist and meteorologist, took months off from all human touch as she turned the 1st girl -- and merely the 3rd individual in heritage – to ski around the complete continent of Antarctica by myself. She did it, too, with the straightforward equipment of cross-country, with no the aids utilized by her prededecessors – Norwegian males – each one of whom hired both parasails or kites.
Aston’s trip around the ice on the backside of the realm requested of her the extremes by way of psychological and actual bravery, as she confronted the hazards of unseen cracks buried within the snow so huge they may engulf her and hypothermia as a result of brutalizing climate. She needed to deal, too, along with her emotional vulnerability in face of the consistent bombardment of hallucinations attributable to the big 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 struggle through worry and loneliness as she truthfully confronts either the actual demanding situations of her experience, in addition to her personal human vulnerabilities.
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Extra resources for Alone in Antarctica: The First Woman To Ski Solo Across The Southern Ice
I couldn’t keep my eyes off the mountain 57 ALONE IN ANTARCTICA scenery to my right. Each sweep of my gaze across the buckled skyline picked out delicate details that by themselves were exquisite and together as a whole were almost overwhelming. Occasionally I would look in the opposite direction towards the empty vastness of the Ross Ice Shelf on my left, a clean, featureless horizon precisely dividing dense blue sky from harshly white snow. The contrast with the mountainscape was so absolute that I could have been flitting between two entirely different planets with a simple turn of my head.
One of my biggest worries was if, through isolation, exhaustion or general mental disorientation, I would no longer be able to rely on my own brain to make reasonable, considered choices. For example, I’d learnt through experience that one of the first signs that someone may be getting too cold and slipping into hypothermia is that they start behaving strangely. They might become uncharacteristically quiet, wear a jacket they don’t normally need, be incoherent, or be clumsy in their movements. It’s not uncommon for people with severe hypothermia to be convinced that they are too hot and start removing clothing even though their life may depend on them doing the exact opposite.
Good,’ he said solemnly. ’ With both of my sledges on the snow a few feet from the plane I triple-checked I had everything. The pilots hovered nearby as if reluctant to leave. One took a photo and the other shook my hand, wishing me luck. I tried to hide it but I could already feel the tremble of panic gathering strength inside me. The co-pilot pointed to the snow at my feet. ‘You’ve dropped your glove,’ he said. I snatched it up, embarrassed to have been caught making such an amateur mistake.