The Goliath Expedition

6 February 2006.
Things do not get any better, again they get worse. Exposed on the edge of the mainland, I’m getting my arse wopped by this wind. It had been a bad night and this morning is just more of the same. I decide to just hunker down for the day and pray things will improve and allow me to get the hell out of here. Throughout the day the wind seems to pick up and begins to flatten my tent. Snow is piling up with such speed that I’m scared the weight will finish the job. Finally something gives. Initially I think it’s a pole but in fact it’s the inner tent ripping away from the outer. Spindrift snow begins pressing in on all sides and I keep trying to kick it off from inside but this is useless. Soon things become decidedly dodgy and I’m forced to leave the tent to clear some of the snow. I open the tent zipper to be faced with a wall of snow. Punching my way I crawl out through the hole. The sled is just about buried but I can make out the handle of the shovel sticking out from the snow and get to work. The wind is now strong enough to actually blow me over and I can just about stand. It’s hard enough to see my hands half the time let alone what I’m supposed to be doing. I attempt to build a wall in front and around the tent to deflect the spindrift but this doesn’t seem to work and it disintegrates before me. I grow cold very quickly and crawl back into the tent. Snow piles up inside the tent, enveloping everything in a fine powder. My sleeping bag is wet with condensation and I’m wearing my down jacket inside the sleeping bag, (my last resort). I then find a pool of water in the bottom of my sleeping bag which has wet the jacket and it feels like my world is over. I’m pretty pissed off right now, feeling I’ve lost control of things. My routine has collapsed but at least the synthetic filling of the sleeping bag keeps me warm. The storm rages on through the night.