Today ticked three of Tarka's four boxes for a perfect day - good surface, good terrain, good weather, good wind- - other than an annoying headwind, it was a grand day and we managed to bash out near enough 26 miles (42km), or a full marathon, which we're both happy about. We're keen to get home after a quarter of a year out here, and our target is to average 25 miles (40km) per day on the Ice Shelf back to Ross Island, so we're on track so far.

We'll pick up another depot tomorrow and we're hoping for more of the same weather and surface-wise. Both Tarka and I are incredibly fatigued and today was a new one for me; I didn't sleep well last night and I spent all of our nine-and-a-half hours on the move battling not to fall asleep on my feet, especially when it was Tarka's turn to lead. My eyes rolled back involuntarily every few minutes and their lids seemed so heavy that I'd occasionally relent and see how long I could ski with them closed before I lost my balance.

We're aiming for an early night tonight, and my blood sugar levels don't seem to be conducive to writing a blockbuster post tonight, alas, though we did see something today that I didn't expect to spot down here at all, and something I last saw in October: the moon. Tarka took a snap of me setting off towards it this afternoon and its presence seemed half-surreal and half-reassuringly familiar in what has been a pretty alien world for three months, a hint that soon we'll be back in the lands of day and night and glorious darkness to sleep in. I can't wait.