|The Winter Journey 4|
The Barrier, and soft snow. We can hardly budge
the sledge-runners. Hard crystal. Could be the Golden
Mile for all the progress after weíve hauled
the two loads back and forth along the Barrier edge.
Too much oil, too much equipment! Then youíve pulled
off your fur glove to get a firm grasp. What you havenít
yet grasped is that itís minus forty-seven
where your fingers are. But when you come to hold
your supper dish... Oh for that plain boiled
snow, or tea perhaps, and a Huntley and Palmerís
Emergency biscuit! The three of us curled
around our cups, we almost think nothing can harm us,
that we will be able to survive that soul-
destroying howl, this cage, the megaton cold.