About eight miles on we came to one of Evans'
camps and the solitary pony wall told its own tale of the death of the
other two. He must have had a miserable return. At eleven miles there
were two bales of fodder depoted, we were only 50 miles odd from our
destination off Cape Armitage, and had one meal over three days' food.
If, therefore, we could average 15 miles a day that would suffice. It was
a silly risk in view of blizzards and other possibilities, chiefly our
own inexperience. As it was I took it and left the fodder there for next
year.
February 24 was another march into impenetrable gloom. Fortunately Corner
Camp, though dark enough, was not shaded in mist. I examined it for notes
and evidence and found some. The sun set properly now, and had we been
farther from home I should have changed to day marching. I have seldom
seen such a scene of utter desolation as Corner Camp presented on that
gloomy day. The fog then settled down and like people of the mist, we
struck off blindly to the N.W. At 3.15 A.M. a light S. breeze came away;
I dreaded a blizzard with so little pony food, and already regretted my
folly in leaving the fodder. After doing twelve miles we had to camp, as
it was impossible even to march straight in the white haze. We made five
colossal walls and turned in, hoping for the best. Fortune favours the
reckless, as well as the brave, at times, and it did this time, as the
blizzard still held off.
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