UPWARDS AND ONWARDS
So far as the possibility of reaching the Magnetic Pole was concerned,
our fortunes seemed to have reached a low ebb. It was already December
20, and we knew that we had to be back at our depot on the Drygalski
Glacier not later than February 1 or 2, if there was to be a reasonable
chance of our being picked up by the Nimrod. That meant that we had to
travel at least 480 to 500 miles before we could hope to get to the
Magnetic Pole and back to our depot, and there remained only six weeks
to accomplish this journey.
At the same time we should have to pioneer a road up to the high
plateau, and now that everything was buried under soft snow it was
clear that sledging would be slower and more difficult than ever. Under
the circumstances it was, perhaps, not to be wondered at that we were
not hopeful of our chance of success.
However, there was nothing to do but to reconnoitre in a south-westerly
direction to see what way was most practicable for us, and after
paddling, unwillingly, in many shallow pools of water and crossing much
pressure-ice and several crevasses, we at last saw that we should have
to drag our sledge up a steep slope encumbered with soft deep thawing
snow.
We also collected several specimens, including a solitary coral, and
while we were collecting them we could hear the roar of many mountain
torrents descending the steep granite slopes of the great mountain mass.
Occasionally, too, we heard the boom and crash of an avalanche
descending from the high mountain top, and such sounds were strange to
our ears, accustomed so long to the almost uninterrupted solitude and
silence of the Antarctic.
[Illustration: The Northern Party at the South Magnetic Pole From left:
Dr. Mackay, Professor David, Douglas Mawson (_See page 215_)]
On the 22nd we were suddenly struck by a furious blizzard which
hindered us until Christmas Eve, but by ten o'clock on that evening we
had succeeded in struggling on until we were above the uncomfortable
zone of thaw, and everything around us was once more crisp and dry
though cold. We had reached over 1200 ft. above sea level, and our
spirits mounted with the altitude.
On Christmas Day we were delayed at first by a blizzard, but in spite
of this we managed to travel about four miles and to camp at night over
2000 ft. above sea-level. Having no other kind of Christmas gift to
offer, Mawson and I presented Mackay with some sennegrass for his pipe,
his tobacco having been exhausted long before.
The following day saw us again crossing crevasses, and as some of them
were from 20 to 30 ft. wide, it was fortunate that the snow lids were
strong enough to carry safely both the sledge and ourselves. Mackay
suggested that, for greater security, we should fasten the alpine
rope around Mawson, who was in the lead, and secure the other end of
it to the sledge. The rope was left just slack enough to admit of the
strain of hauling being taken by the harness rope, and so Mawson had
two strings to his bow in case of being suddenly precipitated into a
crevasse. It was a good system, and we always adopted it afterwards in
crossing heavily crevassed ice.
On the next day we made a small depot of our ski boots, all our
geological specimens, and about one day's food supply together with a
small quantity of oil, and this we called the Larsen Depot as it was
close to one of the southern spurs of Mount Larsen.
Our eyes were now straining, as we advanced with the sledge, to see
whether any formidable mountains still barred our path to the plateau,
and our thankfulness was unbounded when at last we realised that
apparently we were going to have a fairly easy ascent of hard névé
and snow on to the plateau. On that day we advanced a little over
ten miles, and on December 30 we reached an altitude of nearly 5000
ft., our breath freezing into lumps of ice and cementing our Burberry
helmets to our beards and moustaches as in winter time.
New Year's Eve brought with it some disappointment from Mawson's
announcement--after he had taken a fresh set of magnetic
observations--that he made out the Magnetic Pole to be further inland
than had been originally estimated. We were still dragging the sledge
on an up grade and on a softer surface than before, and as we were also
obliged to put ourselves on somewhat shorter rations, in order to form
an emergency food-supply in case our journey proved longer than we
anticipated, we were very much exhausted by night.
On that same evening a skua gull came to visit us, I am afraid not with
any intention of giving us New Year's greetings, but because he mistook
us for seals crawling inland to die, as is not infrequently the habit
of these animals.
New Year's Day gave us beautifully calm weather, and to celebrate the
beginning of 1909 Mawson provided us with a grand hoosh and a rich pot
of cocoa, which we enjoyed thoroughly after an exhausting march.
Hunger, indeed, was beginning to beset us, and we should also have
liked more to drink if we could have afforded it. In fact instead of
talking about what we would like to eat, we began to talk about what we
would drink if we had the chance. Mackay would have liked to drink a
gallon of buttermilk straight off, Mawson wanted a big basin of cream,
while my choice was several pots of the best coffee with plenty of hot
milk.
We were still climbing on January 3, but on the next day we were
pleased to find that the up grade was becoming less steep. We had
reached an altitude of over 6000 ft. and found breathing in the cold
air distinctly trying. It was not that definite mountain sickness
had attacked us, but that we felt weaker than usual as the result,
doubtless, of the height combined with the cold.
Still, we were progressing at the rate of about ten miles a day, and
that was enough to make us hopeful in spite of everything.
On the 6th I left off my crampons and put on a new pair of finnesko,
with the result that I fell heavily over one of the sastrugi, and
slightly straining some muscles on the inner side of my left leg, just
below the knee, I suffered a considerable amount of pain for the rest
of the journey.
Mountain lassitude still continued to attack us and our hands were
often frost-bitten when packing up the sledge. By the 9th we were
completely out of sight of any mountain ranges, and were toiling up and
down amongst the huge billows of a snow sea.