Things beginning to look a little serious.
A strong wind at the start has developed into a full blizzard at lunch, and we have had to get into our sleeping bags.
It was a bad march this morning, but we covered 7 miles. At first Evans, and then Wilson went ahead to scout for tracks. Bowers guided the sledge alone for the first hour, then both he and Oates remained alongside it; they had a fearful time trying to make the pace between the soft patches. At 12:30 the sun coming ahead made it impossible to see the tracks further, and we had to stop. By this time the gale was at its height and we had the dickens of a time getting up the tent, cold fingers all round.
We are only 7 miles from our depot, but I made sure we should be there tonight. This is the second full gale since we left the Pole. I don't like the look of it. Is the weather breaking up? If so, God help us, with the tremendous summit journey and scant food. Wilson and Bowers are my standby. I don't like the easy way in which Oates and Evans get frostbitten.
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