The weather, became bad again during the night.  A blizzard kept the men in their sleeping-bags on February 21, and it was not until the afternoon of the 23rd that Mackintosh and Joyce made an attempt to lay out the cairns to the west.  They found that two of the dogs had died during the storm, leaving seven dogs to haul the sledge.  They marched a mile and a half to the westward and built a cairn, but the weather was very thick and they did not think it wise to proceed farther.  They could not see more than a hundred yards and the tent was soon out of sight.  They returned to the camp, and stayed there until the morning of February 24, when they started the return march with snow still falling.  “We did get off from our camp,” says Mackintosh, “but had only proceeded about four hundred yards when the fog came on so thick that we could scarcely see a yard ahead, so we had to pitch the tent again, and are now sitting inside hoping the weather will clear.  We are going back with only ten days’ provisions, so it means pushing on for all we are worth.  These stoppages are truly annoying.  The poor dogs are feeling hungry; they eat their harness or any straps that may be about.  We can give them nothing beyond their allowance of three biscuits each as we are on bare rations ourselves; but I feel sure they require more than one pound a day.  That is what they are getting now....  After lunch we found it a little clearer, but a very bad light.  We decided to push on.  It is weird travelling in this light.  There is no contrast or outline; the sky and the surface are one, and we cannot discern undulations, which we encounter with disastrous results.  We picked up the first of our outward cairns.  This was most fortunate.  After passing a second cairn everything became blotted out, and so we were forced to camp, after covering 4 miles 703 yds.  The dogs are feeling the pangs of hunger and devouring everything they see.  They will eat anything except rope.  If we had not wasted those three days we might have been able to give them a good feed at the Bluff depot, but now that is impossible.  It is snowing hard.”

The experiences of the next few days were unhappy.  Another blizzard brought heavy snow and held the party up throughout the 25th and 26th.  “Outside is a scene of chaos.  The snow, whirling along with the wind, obliterates everything.  The dogs are completely buried, and only a mound with a ski sticking up indicates where the sledge is.  We long to be off, but the howl of the wind shows how impossible it is.  The sleeping-bags are damp and sticky, so are our clothes.  Fortunately, the temperature is fairly high and they do not freeze.  One of the dogs gave a bark and Joyce went out to investigate.  He found that Major, feeling hungry, had dragged his way to Joyce’s ski and eaten off the leather binding.  Another dog has eaten all his harness, canvas, rope, leather, brass, and rivets.  I am afraid the dogs will not pull through; they all look thin and these blizzards do not improve matters....  We have a week’s provisions and one hundred and sixty miles to travel.  It appears that we will have to get another week’s provisions from the depot, but don’t wish it.  Will see what luck to-morrow.  Of course, at Bluff we can replenish.”