–from Apsley Cherry Garrard’s The Worst Journey in the World—
“November 24. Early morning. A glut of foot-walloping in soft snow and breaking crusts. We have done between 17 and 18 miles today. We saw no crevasses, and have maked the course well, building up the cairns and leaving two flags–so the mule party should be all right. The dogs were going well behind the ponies, but directly we went ahead they seemed to lose heart. I think they are tired of the Barrier: a snow cairn now awakens little interest: they know it is only a mark and does not mean a camp: they are well fed, and fairly fat and in good condition. . . .
“The land is clearing gradually. I have never seen such contrasts of black rock and white snow, and White Island was capped with great ranges of black cumulus, over which rose the pure white peaks of the Royal Society Range in a blue sky. The Barrier itself was quite a deep grey making a beautiful picture. An now Observation Hill and Castle Rock are in front. I don’t suppose I shall ever see this view again: but it is associated with many memories of returning to home and plenty after some long and hard journeys: in some ways I feel sorry–but I have seen it often enough.”