–from Douglas Mawson’s account “The Home of the Blizzard”–
“July concluded its stormy career with the astonishing wind-average of 63.6 miles an hour. We were all relieved to see Friday, August 1, appear on the modest calendar, which was the particular pleasure of each night-watchman to change.
“After an immense deluge of snow on August 4, followed by a day of calm. The Hut was almost completely buried and everywhere the landscape was smothered to an unusual depth in very light flaky, dry snow. The dogs delighted to race about following in each others’ tracks; the leader in order to make any headway at all, proceeding by a series of plunges. At each bound they sank to nearly double their depth in the snow, so it was quite remarkable that they had sense enough to steeplechase along as they did. The exercise must have been exhausting, for some of them soon tried pushing their way along under the snow; and in response to a call one would observe, gradually approaching, a commotion on the surface indicating the existence of the dog beneath.”