–from Frank Wild’s account in Mawson’s The Home of the Blizzard—
“On Sunday, September 8, Moyes went out to feed the dogs and to bring in some biscuit. He found a strong gusty wind with falling snow, and drift so thick that he could not see five yards. We had a cold lunch with nothing to drink, so that the primus could not raise the temperature.
“The long confinement was over on the 10th; the sky was blue and the sun briliant, though the wind still pulsated with racking gusts. As soon as we were out on the ice, away from the land, two men had to hold on to the rear fo each sledge, and even then capsizes often occurred. The sledge would turn and slide broadside-on to leeward, tearing the runners badly on the rough ice. Still, by 9.50 a.m., the surface changed to snow and the travelling improved. That night we camped with twenty miles one hundred yards on the meter.”