On Monday, the 11th, we woke up to a temperature of -67.9deg.  F. The weather was splendid, calm, and clear.  We could see by the dogs that they were not feeling happy, as they had kept comparatively quiet that night.  The cold affected the going at once; it was slow and unyielding.  We came across some crevasses, and Hanssen’s sledge was nearly in one; but it was held up, and he came out of it without serious consequences.  The cold caused no discomfort on the march; on the contrary, at times it was too warm.  One’s breath was like a cloud, and so thick was the vapour over the dogs that one could not see one team from the next, though the sledges were being driven close to one another.

On the 12th it was -61.6deg.  F., with a breeze dead against us.  This was undeniably bitter.  It was easy to see that the temperature was too much for the dogs; in the morning, especially, they were a pitiful sight.  They lay rolled up as tightly as possible, with their noses under their tails, and from time to time one could see a shiver run through their bodies; indeed, some of them were constantly shivering.  We had to lift them up and put them into their harness.  I had to admit that with this temperature it would not pay to go on; the risk was too great.  We therefore decided to drive on to the depot in 80deg.  S., and unload our sledges there.  On that day, too, we made the awkward discovery that the fluid in our compasses had frozen, rendering them useless.  The weather had become very thick, and we could only guess vaguely the position of the sun.  Our progress under these circumstances was very doubtful; possibly we were on the right course, but it was just as probable —­ nay, more so —­ that we were off it.  The best thing we could do, therefore, was to pitch our camp, and wait for a better state of things.  We did not bless the instrument-maker who had supplied those compasses.

It was 10 a.m. when we stopped.  In order to have a good shelter for the long day before us, we decided to build two snow-huts.  The snow was not good for this purpose, but, by fetching blocks from all sides, we managed to put up the huts.  Hanssen built one and Wisting the other.  In a temperature such as we now had, a snow-hut is greatly preferable to a tent, and we felt quite comfortable when we came in and got the Primus going.  That night we heard a strange noise round us.  I looked under my bag to see whether we had far to drop, but there was no sign of a disturbance anywhere.  In the other but they had heard nothing.  We afterwards discovered that the sound was only due to snow “settling.”  By this expression I mean the movement that takes place when a large extent of the snow surface breaks and sinks (settles down).  This movement gives one the idea that the ground is sinking under one, and it is not a pleasant feeling.  It is followed by a dull roar, which often makes the dogs jump into the air —­ and their drivers, too, for that matter.  Once we heard this booming on the plateau so loud that it seemed like the thunder of cannon.  We soon grew accustomed to it.