–from Douglas Mawson’s account “The Home of the Blizzard”–
“A calm evening in November! At ten o’clock a natural picture in shining colours is painted on the canvas of the sea and sky. The northern dome is a blush of rose deepening to a warm terra-cotta along the horizon, and the water reflects it upward to the gaze.
“Tiny Wilson petrels flit like swallows; from their nests in the crannies of the grey rock hills come the love carols of the snow petrels; seals raise their dark forms above the placid surface; the shore is lined with penguins squatting in grotesque repose. The south is pallid with light–the circling sun. Adelie Land is at peace:”