´Kukkuu, Kukkuu.´ This is the cock-crow waking us up every frosty morning. The virtual Cock struts between the tents of our camp, screaming its male vitality.

The virtual Cock is our pet alarm clock. We bought it in Resolute Bay, before our departure, from that legendary pair of hunting brothers, Mark and Jeff. This fearless pair of crooks assured us that Inuit-Eskimos have for centuries used the Cock as a wake-up call.

To the layman, our Cock looks like a cross between a Penguin and a Bantam Hen [Ed: like a Kiwi, perhaps?]. Demographically, Resolute bay is the only place left in the World where this bird lives in its natural habitat.

Once upon a morning, our trusted Cock got frostbite and didn't crow. We were four hours late for work. Captain Haddock gave our Cock a good talking-to. The Cock promised to improve its ways, and promised not to miss another wake-up crow. We have begun to suspect that our Cock is suffering hormonal problems due to the oncoming Polar Spring.

There is additional worrying evidence that would challenge any budding Sherlock-Holmes. Our budding Cock has apparently, in our dreams, consumed quantities of alcohol intended primarily for medicinal purposes … The good side of this is that, tomorrow, our sledges will be even lighter to pull.

[Editor and translator adds: The Finnish original text continues on rubbery thin ice, so I decided to abbreviate. The only meaningful content to be gleaned from the rest of today's text is that, from now on, the Expedition will be relying on surer means of up-waking; namely, the trusted and unshakable Suunto wrist-watch alarmclock.]

On a more sober note, today we skied several blind stints during the morning in zero visibility. After lunch we decided to quit skiing for the day, and service our gear once more …

All is well with the Expedition.