Icy race to the South Pole
Henry Worsley’s voice has the frayed quality of sound that’s traveled a long, long way.
“We are underway at last,” he huffs into a satellite phone, sounding tired after a day out on the snow. “The surface is kind, soft in places, but firm enough not to be totally demoralizing. My sledge is about 150 kilograms (about 330 pounds) in weight and I have to heave her over lumps and bumps.”
Then he brightens, saying, “Lots of familiar noises returned as I set off: the squeak of the ski poles driving into the snow, the thud of the sledge over each bump and the swish of the the skis gliding along.”
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