_Log Book:_ A motion picture camera and the boys’ thermos bottle left. We have only the small thermos filled with coffee for the boys. I shan’t drink anything probably unless we come down. * * * * By the way, our rations might be considered eccentric. About half of the five gallons of mineral water put on at Boston remained. There were three elephantine egg sandwiches. (Trepassey bread is home-made in round loaves.) Eight or nine oranges survived from the original supply. A couple of tins of Drake’s oatmeal cookies were luxury. For emergency ration, we had a few tins of pemmican, a bottle of Horlick’s Malted Milk tablets, and some Hershey’s chocolate. And that, I think, completed the larder. * * * * This ship takes off better in a fairly smooth sea, it seems. I have learned a lot and designers of pontoons have something to learn too. We are skimming the fluffy top of the fog now, having wobbled through to 2500 feet. Bill is at the controls until we get out of it. He thinks we shall pass through alternate storm areas and clears the whole distance. Wisps of cloud flit past the windows of the cabin. Sometimes the fog obscures everything. We are climbing fast to crawl over now. Almost 3000 ft.! There is very blue sky above and when last I saw H2O it was also brilliant. [Illustration: description: Photo wide shot of tri-motor airplane floating on water caption: THE FRIENDSHIP OFF TREPASSEY ] [Illustration: description: Photo of 2 sheep grazing in rock field caption: B-A-A-A! A FRONT LAWN AT TREPASSEY ] As we left Newfoundland we flew about 1000 ft. over the land. I watch the shapes of the many lakes, large and small, which cover the terrain. Two are gigantic footprints; another a buffalo—another a prehistoric animal. [Illustration: description: Drawing of dinosaur with cursive handwritten text image text: is this a pleseosaurus? ] There were many “things” depicted with lumpy paws and flat head and the usual accumulation of abnormalities belonging to the genus Thing. 3300 ft. Over an extensive cushion of fleecy fog. Bill has been at radio and writes CEV to me. I grab call book and find SS. Elmworth is calling. Soon Cape Race asks how things are going. We are at 5000 now getting out of fog, but into a storm. A flurry of snow just passed below. I can see clear weather to right, but not ahead. Temperature back here 42 degrees. I am not cold, as I got used to cold in Trepassey. Speaking of Fog again, I know Dunsany would like to see the world above the earth. Irish fogs have been described in detail, and their bilious effect, and their fairies and their little people. But no one has written of a bird’s-eye view of one from an imaginative eye. I may not be cold, but my coat will make me more comfortable.