Experiments were tried in the steady winds; firmly planting the feet on the ground, keeping the body rigid and leaning over on the invisible support. This “lying on the wind” at equilibrium, was a unique experience. As a rule the velocity remained uniform; when it fluctuated in a series of gusts, all our experience was likely to fail, for no sooner had the correct angle for the maximum velocity been assumed that a lull intervenes – with the obvious result.
(Mawson, 2002;82)
“lying on the windâ€
these remind me of being on Haydn’s cliff in a stiff westerly, hanging over Wollemi. The feeling of the wind holding your body aloft, ahh. I always want to lean more but the wind isn’t strong enough and even if it was would I trust it enough to hold me with out dropping. This is one of the times I love being on the cliff top. The same cliff that the view of the mountains, folding and layered, with the lines of sunset that I sent you in response to Sylvia’s question about recording landscape.
Yes, it’s an extraordinary feeling that I remember from my childhood. I was standing on a beach, leaning into a very strong wind, feeling the lightness of my body against it’s force. I was a skinny little kid, and must have been quite young.
Then one clear but blustery day in Antarctica, I walked through some rocky hills and lakes.
I climbed to the top of a small outcrop and fell into the wind. I felt my full weight, encased in many layers of Antarctic clothing. It seemed I was magically suspended in thin air.
Wind is invisible in Antarctica, except when there is snow drift swept around by it. It rarely snows. The wind has usually driven everything in its wake well away, so you are left with nothing to see, no reference point to gauge its force, except your body.