The country to the east was an ascending snow upland dividing the glaciers of the north coast from the outfalls of the south.  We had seen from the top that our course lay between two huge masses of crevasses, and we thought that the road ahead lay clear.  This belief and the increasing cold made us abandon the idea of camping.  We had another meal at 6 p.m.  A little breeze made cooking difficult in spite of the shelter provided for the cooker by a hole.  Crean was the cook, and Worsley and I lay on the snow to windward of the lamp so as to break the wind with our bodies.  The meal over, we started up the long, gentle ascent.  Night was upon us, and for an hour we plodded along in almost complete darkness, watching warily for signs of crevasses.  Then about 8 p.m. a glow which we had seen behind the jagged peaks resolved itself into the full moon, which rose ahead of us and made a silver pathway for our feet.  Along that pathway in the wake of the moon we advanced in safety, with the shadows cast by the edges of crevasses showing black on either side of us.  Onwards and upwards through soft snow we marched, resting now and then on hard patches which had revealed themselves by glittering ahead of us in the white light.  By midnight we were again at an elevation of about 4000 ft.  Still we were following the light, for as the moon swung round towards the north-east, our path curved in that direction.  The friendly moon seemed to pilot our weary feet.  We could have had no better guide.  If in bright daylight we had made that march we would have followed the course that was traced for us that night.

Midnight found us approaching the edge of a great snowfield, pierced by isolated nunataks which cast long shadows like black rivers across the white expanse.  A gentle slope to the north-east lured our all-too-willing feet in that direction.  We thought that at the base of the slope lay Stromness Bay.  After we had descended about 300 ft. a thin wind began to attack us.  We had now been on the march for over twenty hours, only halting for our occasional meals.  Wisps of cloud drove over the high peaks to the southward, warning us that wind and snow were likely to come.  After 1 a.m. we cut a pit in the snow, piled up loose snow around it, and started the Primus again.  The hot food gave us another renewal of energy.  Worsley and Crean sang their old songs when the Primus was going merrily.  Laughter was in our hearts, though not on our parched and cracked lips.

We were up and away again within half an hour, still downward to the coast.  We felt almost sure now that we were above Stromness Bay.  A dark object down at the foot of the slope looked like Mutton Island, which lies off Husvik.  I suppose our desires were giving wings to our fancies, for we pointed out joyfully various landmarks revealed by the now vagrant light of the moon, whose friendly face was cloud-swept.  Our high hopes were soon shattered.  Crevasses warned us that we were on another glacier, and soon we looked down almost to the seaward edge of the great riven ice-mass.  I knew there was no glacier in Stromness and realized that this must be Fortuna Glacier.  The disappointment was severe.  Back we turned and tramped up the glacier again, not directly tracing our steps but working at a tangent to the south-east.  We were very tired.