The blizzard showed no signs of abating.
"When I swung the thermometer this morning," Bowers wrote, "I looked and looked again, but unmistakably the temperature was +33°F., above freezing point (out of the sun's direct rays) for the first time since we came down here. What this means to us nobody can conceive. We try to treat it as a huge joke, but our wretched condition might be amusing to read of it later. We are wet through, our tents are wet, our bags which are our life to us and the objects of our greatest care, are wet; the poor ponies are soaked and shivering far more than they would be ordinarily in a temperature fifty degrees lower. Our sledges -- the parts that are dug out -- are wet, our food is wet, everything on and around and about us is the same -- wet as ourselves and our cold, clammy clothes. Water trickles down the tent poles and only forms icicles in contact with the snow floor. The warmth of our bodies has formed a snow bath in the floor for each of us to lie in. This is a nice little catchwater for stray streams to run into before they freeze. This they cannot do while a warm human lies there, so they remain liquid and the accommodating bag mops them up. When we go out to do the duties of life, fill the cooker, etc., for the next meal, dig out or feed the ponies, or anything else, we are bunged up with snow. Not the driving, sandlike snow we are used to, but great slushy flakes that run down in water immediately and stream off you. The drifts are tremendous, the rest of the show is indescribable. I feel most for the unfortunate animals and am thankful that poor old Victor is spared this. I mended a pair of half mitts to-day, and we are having two meals instead of three. This idleness when one is simply jumping to go on is bad enough for most, but must be worse for Captain Scott. I feel glad that he has Dr. Bill in his tent; there is something always so reassuring about Bill, he comes out best in adversity." 
"Can see absolutely nothing at all," wrote Amundsen. "Despite this we have done our 20 nautical miles and consequently have passed 88° S Lat. Are now at 88°9' by dead reckoning." 
They did not lay the usual depot, as Amundsen wanted to pass Shackleton's record of 88°23' the next day, and get within a hundred miles of the Pole.
"Snowstorm from the East, going sticky, my dogs dead tired.... Degree pudding this evening," Bjaaland added gratefully. 
 H.R. Bowers, diary, [6 December, 1911], quoted by Apsley Cherry-Garrard in The Worst Journey in the World, ch.IX.
 Roald Amundsen, diary, 7 December, 1911, quoted by Roland Huntford in Race for the South Pole : the expedition diaries of Scott and Amundsen (London : Continuum, c2010), p.167.
 Olav Bjaaland, diary, 7 December, 1911, quoted by Roland Huntford in Race for the South Pole : the expedition diaries of Scott and Amundsen (London : Continuum, c2010), p.167.