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Aleister Crowley Diary Entry Wednesday, 30 August 1905
On the 30th we rested and starved, and Pache [Alexis Pache] shivered, no valise nor petroleum having arrived. I spent the morning screwing our shovels to the spikes provided for them, the first occasion on which I have been able to keep on making original spades without protest from dummy. Not a sign of any relief party. Oh, if only I could be in the rear guard! But, unfortunately, there is nobody who can choose the route but myself, and to give orders, instructions, or explanations is becoming sheer waste of breath or paper. Nothing short of the eloquence of Sir Boyle Roche plus the aptitudes of his bird would have set things straight. Camp V, where I write this, is some 20,000 feet high, as near as I can judge.
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