'much to our consternation, the white out continued through the afternoon and evening. the storm whipped our tent with its ferocity, seemingly intent on our demise, seemingly willing us off the mountain. how many days now? at least a fortnight and all we had thus far was a vague imprint of the beasts foot, but now i understood, the animal had been patiently pacing us on our ascent. i lay back in my sleeping bag and tried to rest my weary muscles. Captain Smith smoked one of his handrolled ciggerettes calmly on his side of our humble abode. the weak gas lamp flickered wildly backlighting the tent with a violent silent cinema. i closed my eyes and drifted away...' YETI DIARIES November