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The two days that follow are sheer hell. Ridges formed by deeply fissured ice-mounds continually bar your way, and you are forced to dismount and manhandle the sledges across them. Progress is slow. The Kanu-dogs are nervous and take fright at the slightest instance and the sledges frequently capsize and spill their loads.
A haze of fine snow obscures your vision. On two occasions, Fenor and Irian slip into crevasses and have to be pulled out by their safety ropes. Then your sledge meets with a similar mishap. Dyce volunteers to be lowered into the crevasse on the end of a rope, and unloads the damaged sledge so that it is light enough to be hauled out. After two hours of backbreaking effort, the sledge is dragged from the void, but only for you to discover that it is damaged beyond repair and will have to be abandoned.
A gale rises from the west, and blows so fiercely that you have difficulty in standing. Within a few minutes, the conditions have become so bad that you are obliged to pitch a tent and wait for the gale to die down. Hour after hour, the wind buffets the tent relentlessly. As you slowly drift off to sleep, you can only dread what the next morning may bring; you are totally unaware of the amazing sight that awaits you.
