28. Nov. 23, 1998, Monday: Patriot Hills Camp
Today is about as nasty as it can be for this time of year. We have had a plague of storms -- mainly wind -- but this one has heavy winds and falling snow. The flakes are tiny but snow is building up throughout the camp and adding to the normal load of drifting snow that high winds seem to bring. Whenever anyone enters or leaves the tent he is accompanied by a shower of snow as he opens the door. The meteorologist promises tomorrow will be better...
The Comandante was telling Alex at breakfast that he requested food
to support a diet of 4500 cal/day/man, but some know-it-all in a warm office
allowed him only 2000 cal/day/man, and that is what we are surviving on.
I guess bureacracies are the same the world over, but one wishes that those
who make stupid decisions at least would be required to live with their
results. I guess I can consider myself lucky because, over the years, I
seem to have built up some reserves around my middle that I presume can
be called upon in the present situation. Doesn't eliminate a certain craving
for food, however, which starts about halfway between one
meal and the next.
The storm continued all day, and into the "night."