The temperature that night was -75.8 degrees, and I will not pretend it did not convince me that Dante was right when he placed the circles of ice below the circles of fire. Still we slept sometimes, and always lay for seven hours. Again and again Bill asked us how about going back, and always we said no. Yet there was nothing I should have liked better; I was quite sure that to dream of Cape Crozier was the wildest lunacy. That day we had advanced 1 1/2 miles by the utmost labour, and the usual relay work. This was quite a good march…

Apsley Cherry-Garrard, “The Worst Journey in the World”.

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