RETURNING
I called the camp later than usual on the following morning, and we
discussed our chances of catching the Nimrod if she searched for us
along the coast in the direction of our depot on the Drygalski Glacier.
At the Magnetic Pole we were fully 260 statute miles distant, as the
skua gull flies, from our depot, and as we had knocked off eleven of
these miles on the previous day we still had 249 miles to cover. If,
then we were to reach the Drygalski depot by February 1, we had only
fifteen days in which to do it, and we should have to average sixteen
and two-third miles a day in order to reach the coast in the time
specified.
This, of course, did not allow for any delay from blizzards, and we
knew from the direction of the sastrugi during our last few days' march
that the prevailing direction of the blizzards was likely to be exactly
in our teeth. The prospect, therefore, of reaching our depot in the
specified time did not appear to be bright.
[Illustration: Ready to start Home. (_See page 233_)]
On starting, however, on the 17th we had most glorious weather, and
the wind which had helped us towards the Pole turned round and helped
us away from it. In spite of our late start we sledged 16 miles, and
on the following day, although Mawson's left leg was paining him, we
covered practically the same distance.
The 19th saw us still keeping up the same rate of progress, but owing
to some miscalculation of mine we discovered that we had no tea for
this week, our sixth week out, unless we took it out of the tea-bag for
the seventh week. Accordingly we halved the tea in the seventh week
bag, and determined to collect our old tea-bags at each camp as we
passed it, and to boil these bags together with the small pittance of
fresh tea.
As we progressed coastwards we soon had quite an imposing collection
of muslin bags with old tea leaves, and with the thorough boiling they
got there was a strong flavour of muslin added to that of old tea. But
nevertheless we considered that this drink was nectar.
In view of the steady sixteen miles a day that we were doing Mawson
proposed on the 20th that we should return to nearly full rations,
a proposal which was hailed with delight, for we were becoming very
exhausted through insufficient food.
Up to that date we had been able still to follow our old sledge tracks,
which was a great blessing when the magnetic needle was of so little
use to us. But on the following days we, lost these tracks, and had a
great deal of pie-crust snow to cross, which made our work terribly
fatiguing.
However, we managed to keep up our sixteen miles per day, and on
January 24 we were cheered by sighting Mount Baxter. Towards evening
we discussed whether we were following approximately our old out-going
tracks. Mackay thought we were nearer to the mountain than before, I
thought we were farther to the south-west, Mawson, who was leading,
said that we were pretty well on our old course. Just then I discovered
that we were actually on our old tracks which showed up plainly for a
short distance, and which were striking evidence of Mawson's skill as a
navigator.
On the next day we encountered a mild blizzard, but we also managed to
sight Mount Nansen just before we camped, and when we resumed our march
we reached a surface of hard marble-like névé, which descended by short
steep slopes.
At first we did not realise that we were about to descend what we
had called the Ice Falls on the outward journey, and as the sledge
occasionally took charge and rushed down this marble staircase Mawson
and I came some heavy croppers.
On the 27th we were delighted at last to sight Mount Larsen, and to
have reached a point only forty miles from our Larsen Depot.
The wind was blowing at about 25 miles an hour, and occasionally, in an
extra strong puff, the sledge took charge. On one of these occasions
it suddenly charged into me from behind, knocked my legs from under
me, and nearly juggernauted me. But I was quickly rescued from this
undignified position by Mawson and Mackay.
At lunch, with a faint hope of softening the heart of Mackay--who was
messman for the week--I mildly informed him that it was my birthday.
He took the hint and both at lunch and dinner we all fared, what we
considered, sumptuously.
We advanced twenty miles towards the coast on that day, but it had
been a most fatiguing journey, and when we started again we decided
that pulling the sledge was less exhausting than the sailing had proved
to be.
Hour by hour we steadily pulled on, Mounts Nansen and Larsen growing
larger and clearer, and we began to hope that we might be able to reach
our depot that night. But later on Mawson's sprained leg pained him
so much that we had almost decided to camp, when Mackay's sharp eyes
sighted our little blue flag tied to the ice-axe at our depot. It was,
however, past midnight before we turned into our sleeping-bags.
On the next morning--January 30--we were up at 9 A.M., and after
breakfast we collected the material at our depot, such as ski boots,
oil, and geological specimens and loaded these on to our sledge.
During this day we discussed whether it would be wiser to descend
by the old track up which we had come, or make down the main Larsen
Glacier to the point where it joined the Drygalski Glacier. Mackay
favoured the former route, while Mawson and I were in favour of the
latter, and, as subsequent events proved, Mackay was right and we were
wrong.
We held on down the main glacier, and the descent was soon so steep
that only with difficulty could we prevent the sledge from charging
down the slope.
On January 31 we took half the load off the sledge, and started with
the remainder to try and work a passage of the ice-pressure ridges of
the combined Drygalski and Larsen Glaciers on the smoother sea-ice, and
eventually on to the Drygalski Ice Barrier.
While Mawson and Mackay pulled, I steadied the sledge on the lower side
in rounding the steep sidelings, but in spite of my efforts to keep
it on even keel the sledge frequently capsized. At last we arrived at
the foot of an immense ice-pressure ridge, a romantic-looking spot
with a huge cliff of massive granite rising up on our left to heights
of about 2000 ft., although I admit that at the time we did not exactly
appreciate its romantic beauty.
Mackay reconnoitred, and found that the large pressure ridge which
seemed to bar progress towards our depot must be crossed. So taking
our ice-axes we smoothed a passage across part of the ridge--a tough
job--and then unloaded the sledge and passed each one of our packages
over by hand. Finally we dragged the sledge up, and hoisted it over and
lowered it down safely on the other side.
Little by little the surface improved after this, until our progress
was once more barred, but on this occasion by what may be termed an ice
donga, apparently an old channel formed by a river of thaw-water.
We encountered three of them during that afternoon from a few feet to
50 or 100 ft. broad, and often we had to take our sledge a long way
round to cross them.
Our difficulties were increased by the innumerable crevasses and steep
ice ridges, and once Mackay and I were in the same crevasse at the
same time, he up to his shoulders and I up to my waist. Fortunately,
however, we were able to save ourselves from falling right through the
lid by throwing out our arms.
While we sledged on through the night, snow began to fall, and when we
camped at 7 A.M. on February 1 we were all most thoroughly weary.