“Tuesday, 5 December. Camp 30. Noon.
“We awoke this morning to a raging howling blizzard. . . .After a minute or two in the open one is covered from head to foot. The temperature is high, so that what falls or drives against one sticks. The ponies–heads, tails, legs and all parts not protected by their rugs–are covered with ice; the animals are standing deep in snow, the sledges are almost covered, and huge drifts above the tents. . . .One cannot see the next tent, let alone the land.
“11 p.m. It has blown hard all day with quite the greatest snowfall I remember. The drifts about the tents are simply huge. The temperature was +27 this forenoon, and rose to +31 in the afternoon, at which time the snow melted as it fell on anything but the snow, and, as a consequence, there are pools of water on everything, the tents are wet through, also the wind-clothes, night-boots, etc.; water drips from the tent poles and door, lies on the floor-cloth, soaks the sleeping bags, and makes everything pretty wretched.
“If a cold snap follows before we have had time to dry our things, we shall be mighty uncomfortable.”