Jimmy Pigg had returned alone.  The following day (February 23) was a good marching day also, but a bit cloudy latterly.  We did fourteen miles as this evidence of pony failure made us all the more anxious about ours, though really they were going very well.  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.  The signs of one impending were unmistakable notwithstanding.  Weary Willie did less well on February 25, and as the surface became heavier, we had to camp after only doing eleven miles.

I thought best in view of the threatening appearance of the weather to have a six hours’ rest, and march into Safety Camp the same day, a distance of eight miles.  We found to our horror that Gran had dropped the top cap of our primus at the last camp.  Cold food stared us in face!

However, we did manage to melt some snow for a cheering drink by cutting a piece of tin as near the shape of the cap as possible.  Our biscuit was finished owing to the ravages of my pony.  Before turning in I saw some specks to the N. and skipping my theodolite on its tripod, looked through the telescope and saw two tents and a number of ski stuck up. [This was Scott’s man-hauling party together with Jimmy Pigg, going out to Corner Camp.] This we concluded was either a man-hauling, or man and beast party bound for Corner Camp.  We overslept and so did not get away till the afternoon.  It was still very cloudy and threatening.  I found that I had steered considerably to the southward of the right direction in the fog, and it is lucky we met with no crevasses off White Island.  Safety Camp at last appeared, and the