September 24, 1975: Wednesday

The night was cold. My feet are the only thing that really got cold. Not even my eyelids. But boy, do my feet freeze. And it takes forever to thaw them out in the morning. Such excruciating pain. But these red jump suits sure work. Never been warmer, outside.

We can’t get 504 started, not even by heating up the batteries and cooking the oil. About noon we call Scott Base and tell them what we need. They’ll come out to get us. The radio didn’t quite work right. Their transmitter was bad.

In the afternoon we build a crude snow wall around the snowtrack to keep the wind off. At six o’clock we’re informed that Jack and Tonto (the Scott Base mechanic) will come out a six tomorrow morning to rescue us.

The weather is cold (-37º C), and windy. We read and talk. Fortunately we have enough books. Sam wants to go out and name Morgan’s Rock. Dave H. says you have to go before the Board to get one approved, officially. They don’t allow you just to go out and do it. I tell them I’ve already picked mine out. They’re pessimistic. Even if it wasn’t named by 1966, every mountain with an elevation mark will have a name by now.

It won’t hurt to try.

Anyway, it’s not the actual official name that counts. It’s my naming of it that’s important. The honor by which I am bound to uphold, whether or not the rest of the world recognizes it or not. It’s between me and Debbie.

Sidebar: Many secrets are by no means official. Yet they are official in our hearts.

The zipper on my cowl got stuck. Then broke. Had a weird hassle pulling it over the top of my head. Scratched my forehead. Took fifteen minutes before I could see and breathe.

Dave might have taken a sour opinion of me. He’s the cook. Does it at home. And I eat the most. And we all say rotten things about the food. And I always say the last rotten thing.

At 6:00 we do our radio show with Scott Base. “Scott Base, Scott Base, this is Jolly One, Jolly One. Jolly One, over.” “Roger, roger.” “Roger, roger.” “Etc., etc.”

I get frostbite on my nose. Just a wee patch.

Now I am a real Antarctic explorer.