Depôt Laying To One Ton Camp
_Tuesday, January_ 24.--People were busy in the hut all last night--we
got away at 9 A.M. A boat from the _Terra Nova_ fetched the Western
Party and myself as the ponies were led out of the camp. Meares and
Wilson went ahead of the ponies to test the track. On board the ship I
was taken in to see Lillie's catch of sea animals. It was wonderful,
quantities of sponges, isopods, pentapods, large shrimps, corals,
&c., &c.--but the _pièce de résistance_ was the capture of several
buckets full of cephalodiscus of which only seven pieces had been
previously caught. Lillie is immensely pleased, feeling that it alone
repays the whole enterprise.
In the forenoon we skirted the Island, getting 30 and 40 fathoms of
water north and west of Inaccessible Island. With a telescope we could
see the string of ponies steadily progressing over the sea ice past the
Razor Back Islands. As soon as we saw them well advanced we steamed on
to the Glacier Tongue. The open water extended just round the corner
and the ship made fast in the narrow angle made by the sea ice with
the glacier, her port side flush with the surface of the latter. I
walked over to meet the ponies whilst Campbell went to investigate a
broad crack in the sea ice on the Southern Road. The ponies were got
on to the Tongue without much difficulty, then across the glacier, and
picketed on the sea ice close to the ship. Meanwhile Campbell informed
me that the big crack was 30 feet across: it was evident we must get
past it on the glacier, and I asked Campbell to peg out a road clear
of cracks. Oates reported the ponies ready to start again after tea,
and they were led along Campbell's road, their loads having already
been taken on the floe--all went well until the animals got down on
the floe level and Oates led across an old snowed-up crack. His and
the next pony got across, but the third made a jump at the edge and
sank to its stomach in the middle. It couldn't move, and with such
struggles as it made it sank deeper till only its head and forelegs
showed above the slush. With some trouble we got ropes on these,
and hauling together pulled the poor creature out looking very weak
and miserable and trembling much.
We led the other ponies round farther to the west and eventually got
all out on the floe, gave them a small feed, and started them off with
their loads. The dogs meanwhile gave some excitement. Starting on
hard ice with a light load nothing could hold them, and they dashed
off over everything--it seemed wonderful that we all reached the
floe in safety. Wilson and I drive one team, whilst Evans and Meares
drive the other. I withhold my opinion of the dogs in much doubt as
to whether they are going to be a real success--but the ponies are
going to be real good. They work with such extraordinary steadiness,
stepping out briskly and cheerfully, following in each other's
tracks. The great drawback is the ease with which they sink in soft
snow: they go through in lots of places where the men scarcely make an
impression--they struggle pluckily when they sink, but it is trying to
watch them. We came with the loads noted below and one bale of fodder
(105 lbs.) added to each sledge. We are camped 6 miles from the glacier
and 2 from Hut Point--a cold east wind; to-night the temperature 19°.
_Autumn Party to start January 25, 1911_
12 men, [9] 8 ponies, 26 dogs.
First load estimated 5385 lbs., including 14 weeks' food and fuel
for men--taken to Cache No. 1.
Ship transports following to Glacier Tongue:
lbs.
130 Bales compressed fodder 13,650
24 Cases dog biscuit 1,400
10 Sacks of oats 1,600 ?
------
16,650
Teams return to ship to transport this load to Cache No. 1. Dog teams
also take on 500 lbs. of biscuit from Hut Point.
Pony Sledges
lbs.
On all sledges
Sledge with straps and tank 52
Pony furniture 25
Driver's ski and sleeping-bag, &c. 40
Nos. 1 & 5
Cooker and primus instruments 40
Tank containing biscuit 172
Sack of oats 160
Tent and poles 28
Alpine rope 5
1 oil can and spirit can 15
---
537
Nos. 2 & 6
Oil 100
Tank contents: food bags 285
Ready provision bag 63
2 picks 20
---
468
Nos. 3 & 7
Oil 100
Tank contents: biscuit 196
Sack of oats 160
2 shovels 9
---
465
Nos. 4 & 8
Box with tools, &c. 35
Cookers, &c. 105
Tank contents food bags 252
Sack of oats 160
3 long bamboos and spare gear 15
---
567
Spare Gear per Man
2 pairs under socks
2 pairs outer socks
1 pair hair socks
1 pair night socks
1 pyjama jacket
1 pyjama trousers
1 woollen mits
2 finnesko
Skein = 10 lbs.
Books, diaries, tobacco, &c. 2 ,,
--
12 lbs.
Dress
Vest and drawers
Woollen shirt
Jersey
Balaclava
Wind Suit
Two pairs socks
Ski boots.
Dogs
No. 1.
lbs.
Sledge straps and tanks 54
Drivers' ski and bags 80
Cooker primus and instruments 50
Tank contents: biscuit 221
Alpine rope 5
Lamps and candles 4
2 shovels 9
Ready provision bag 63
Sledge meter 2
---
488
No. 2.
lbs.
Sledge straps and tanks 54
Drivers' ski and bags 80
Tank contents: food bags 324
Tent and poles 33
---
491
10-ft. sledge: men's harness, extra tent.
_Thursday, January 26_.--Yesterday I went to the ship with a dog
team. All went well till the dogs caught sight of a whale breeching
in the 30 ft. lead and promptly made for it! It was all we could do
to stop them before we reached the water.
Spent the day writing letters and completing arrangements for the
ship--a brisk northerly breeze sprang up in the night and the ship
bumped against the glacier until the pack came in as protection from
the swell. Ponies and dogs arrived about 1 P.M., and at 5 we all went
out for the final start.
A little earlier Pennell had the men aft and I thanked them for
their splendid work. They have behaved like bricks and a finer lot of
fellows never sailed in a ship. It was good to get their hearty send
off. Before we could get away Ponting had his half-hour photographing
us, the ponies and the dog teams--I hope he will have made a good
thing of it. It was a little sad to say farewell to all these good
fellows and Campbell and his men. I do most heartily trust that all
will be successful in their ventures, for indeed their unselfishness
and their generous high spirit deserves reward. God bless them.
So here we are with all our loads. One wonders what the upshot will
be. It will take three days to transport the loads to complete safety;
the break up of the sea ice ought not to catch us before that. The
wind is from the S.E. again to-night.
_Friday, January_ 27.--Camp 2. Started at 9.30 and moved a load of
fodder 3 3/4 miles south--returned to camp to lunch--then shifted
camp and provisions. Our weights are now divided into three loads:
two of food for ponies, one of men's provisions with some ponies'
food. It is slow work, but we retreat slowly but surely from the
chance of going out on the sea ice.
We are camped about a mile south of C. Armitage. After camping I went
to the east till abreast of Pram Point, finding the ice dangerously
thin off C. Armitage. It is evident we must make a considerable
détour to avoid danger. The rest of the party went to the _Discovery_
hut to see what could be done towards digging it out. The report is
unfavourable, as I expected. The drift inside has become very solid--it
would take weeks of work to clear it. A great deal of biscuit and some
butter, cocoa, &c., was seen, so that we need not have any anxiety
about provisions if delayed in returning to Cape Evans.
The dogs are very tired to-night. I have definitely handed the
control of the second team to Wilson. He was very eager to have
it and will do well I'm sure--but certainly also the dogs will not
pull heavy loads--500 pounds proved a back-breaking load for 11 dogs
to-day--they brought it at a snail's pace. Meares has estimated to
give them two-thirds of a pound of biscuit a day. I have felt sure
he will find this too little.
The ponies are doing excellently. Their loads run up to 800 and 900
lbs. and they make very light of them. Oates said he could have gone
on for some time to-night.
_Saturday, January_ 28.--Camp 2. The ponies went back for the last load
at Camp 1, and I walked south to find a way round the great pressure
ridge. The sea ice south is covered with confused irregular sastrugi
well remembered from _Discovery_ days. The pressure ridge is new. The
broken ice of the ridge ended east of the spot I approached and the
pressure was seen only in a huge domed wave, the hollow of which
on my left was surrounded with a countless number of seals--these
lay about sleeping or apparently gambolling in the shallow water. I
imagine the old ice in this hollow has gone well under and that the
seals have a pool above it which may be warmer on such a bright day.
It was evident that the ponies could be brought round by this route,
and I returned to camp to hear that one of the ponies (Keohane's)
had gone lame. The Soldier took a gloomy view of the situation,
but he is not an optimist. It looks as though a tendon had been
strained, but it is not at all certain. Bowers' pony is also weak in
the forelegs, but we knew this before: it is only a question of how
long he will last. The pity is that he is an excellently strong pony
otherwise. Atkinson has a bad heel and laid up all day--his pony was
tied behind another sledge, and went well, a very hopeful sign.
In the afternoon I led the ponies out 2 3/4 miles south to the
crossing of the pressure ridge, then east 1 1/4 till we struck the
barrier edge and ascended it. Going about 1/2 mile in we dumped the
loads--the ponies sank deep just before the loads were dropped, but
it looked as though the softness was due to some rise in the surface.
We saw a dark object a quarter of a mile north as we reached the
Barrier. I walked over and found it to be the tops of two tents more
than half buried--Shackleton's tents we suppose. A moulting Emperor
penguin was sleeping between them. The canvas on one tent seemed
intact, but half stripped from the other.
The ponies pulled splendidly to-day, as also the dogs, but we have
decided to load both lightly from now on, to march them easily, and
to keep as much life as possible in them. There is much to be learnt
as to their powers of performance.
Keohane says 'Come on, lad, you'll be getting to the Pole' by way of
cheering his animal--all the party is cheerful, there never were a
better set of people.
_Sunday, January_ 29.--Camp 2. This morning after breakfast I
read prayers. Excellent day. The seven good ponies have made two
journeys to the Barrier, covering 18 geographical miles, half with
good loads--none of them were at all done. Oates' pony, a spirited,
nervous creature, got away at start when his head was left for a
moment and charged through the camp at a gallop; finally his sledge
cannoned into another, the swingle tree broke, and he galloped away,
kicking furiously at the dangling trace. Oates fetched him when he
had quieted down, and we found that nothing had been hurt or broken
but the swingle tree.
Gran tried going on ski with his pony. All went well while he was
alongside, but when he came up from the back the swish of the ski
frightened the beast, who fled faster than his pursuer--that is,
the pony and load were going better than the Norwegian on ski.
Gran is doing very well. He has a lazy pony and a good deal of work
to get him along, and does it very cheerfully.
The dogs are doing excellently--getting into better condition
every day.
They ran the first load 1 mile 1200 yards past the stores on the
Barrier, to the spot chosen for 'Safety Camp,' the big home depot.
I don't think that any part of the Barrier is likely to go, but it's
just as well to be prepared for everything, and our camp must deserve
its distinctive title of 'Safety.'
In the afternoon the dogs ran a second load to the same place--covering
over 24 geographical miles in the day--an excellent day's work._12_
Evans and I took a load out on foot over the pressure ridge. The camp
load alone remains to be taken to the Barrier. Once we get to Safety
Camp we can stay as long as we like before starting our journey. It
is only when we start that we must travel fast.
Most of the day it has been overcast, but to-night it has cleared
again. There is very little wind. The temperatures of late have been
ranging from 9° at night to 24° in the day. Very easy circumstances
for sledging.
_Monday, January_ 30.--Camp 3. Safety Camp. Bearings: Lat. 77.55; Cape
Armitage N. 64 W.; Camel's Hump of Blue Glacier left, extreme; Castle
Rock N. 40 W. Called the camp at 7.30. Finally left with ponies at
11.30. There was a good deal to do, which partly accounts for delays,
but we shall have to 'buck up' with our camp arrangement. Atkinson
had his foot lanced and should be well in a couple of days.
I led the lame pony; his leg is not swelled, but I fear he's developed
a permanent defect--there are signs of ring bone and the hoof is split.
A great shock came when we passed the depôted fodder and made for
this camp. The ponies sank very deep and only brought on their loads
with difficulty, getting pretty hot. The distance was but 1 1/2
miles, but it took more out of them than the rest of the march. We
camped and held a council of war after lunch. I unfolded my plan,
which is to go forward with five weeks' food for men and animals: to
depôt a fortnight's supply after twelve or thirteen days and return
here. The loads for ponies thus arranged work out a little over 600
lbs., for the dog teams 700 lbs., both apart from sledges. The ponies
ought to do it easily if the surface is good enough for them to walk,
which is doubtful--the dogs may have to be lightened--such as it is,
it is the best we can do under the circumstances!
This afternoon I went forward on ski to see if the conditions
changed. In 2 or 3 miles I could see no improvement.
Bowers, Garrard, and the three men went and dug out the _Nimrod_
tent. They found a cooker and provisions and remains of a hastily
abandoned meal. One tent was half full of hard ice, the result of
thaw. The Willesden canvas was rotten except some material used for
the doors. The floor cloth could not be freed.
The Soldier doesn't like the idea of fetching up the remainder of the
loads to this camp with the ponies. I think we will bring on all we
can with the dogs and take the risk of leaving the rest.
The _Nimrod_ camp was evidently made by some relief or ship party,
and if that has stood fast for so long there should be little fear
for our stuff in a single season. To-morrow we muster stores, build
the depot, and pack our sledges.
_Tuesday, January_ 31.--Camp 3. We have everything ready to
start--but this afternoon we tried our one pair of snow-shoes on
'Weary Willy.' The effect was magical. He strolled around as though
walking on hard ground in places where he floundered woefully without
them. Oates hasn't had any faith in these shoes at all, and I thought
that even the quietest pony would need to be practised in their use.
Immediately after our experiment I decided that an effort must be
made to get more, and within half an hour Meares and Wilson were on
their way to the station more than 20 miles away. There is just the
chance that the ice may not have gone out, but it is a very poor one
I fear. At present it looks as though we might double our distance
with the snow-shoes.
Atkinson is better to-day, but not by any means well, so that the
delay is in his favour. We cannot start on till the dogs return with
or without the shoes. The only other hope for this journey is that the
Barrier gets harder farther out, but I feel that the prospect of this
is not very bright. In any case it is something to have discovered
the possibilities of these shoes.
Low temperature at night for first time. Min. 2.4°. Quite warm in tent.
_Wednesday, February_ 1.--Camp 3. A day of comparative inactivity and
some disappointment. Meares and Wilson returned at noon, reporting
the ice out beyond the Razor Back Island--no return to Cape Evans--no
pony snow-shoes--alas! I have decided to make a start to-morrow without
them. Late to-night Atkinson's foot was examined: it is bad and there's
no possibility of its getting right for some days. He must be left
behind--I've decided to leave Crean with him. Most luckily we now
have an extra tent and cooker. How the ponies are to be led is very
doubtful. Well, we must do the best that circumstances permit. Poor
Atkinson is in very low spirits.
I sent Gran to the _Discovery_ hut with our last mail. He went on
ski and was nearly 4 hours away, making me rather anxious, as the
wind had sprung up and there was a strong surface-drift; he narrowly
missed the camp on returning and I am glad to get him back.
Our food allowance seems to be very ample, and if we go on as at
present we shall thrive amazingly.
_Thursday, February_ 2.--Camp 4. Made a start at last. Roused out at 7,
left camp about 10.30. Atkinson and Crean remained behind--very hard
on the latter. Atkinson suffering much pain and mental distress at
his condition--for the latter I fear I cannot have much sympathy, as
he ought to have reported his trouble long before. Crean will manage
to rescue some more of the forage from the Barrier edge--I am very
sorry for him.
On starting with all the ponies (I leading Atkinson's) I saw with
some astonishment that the animals were not sinking deeply, and to my
pleased surprise we made good progress at once. This lasted for more
than an hour, then the surface got comparatively bad again--but still
most of the ponies did well with it, making 5 miles. Birdie's [10]
animal, however, is very heavy and flounders where the others walk
fairly easily. He is eager and tries to go faster as he flounders. As
a result he was brought in, in a lather. I inquired for our one set
of snow-shoes and found they had been left behind. The difference
in surface from what was expected makes one wonder whether better
conditions may not be expected during the night and in the morning,
when the temperatures are low. My suggestion that we should take to
night marching has met with general approval. Even if there is no
improvement in the surface the ponies will rest better during the
warmer hours and march better in the night.
So we are resting in our tents, waiting to start to-night. Gran has
gone back for the snow-shoes--he volunteered good-naturedly--certainly
his expertness on ski is useful.
Last night the temperature fell to -6° after the wind dropped--to-day
it is warm and calm.
_Impressions_
The seductive folds of the sleeping-bag.
The hiss of the primus and the fragrant steam of the cooker issuing
from the tent ventilator.
The small green tent and the great white road.
The whine of a dog and the neigh of our steeds.
The driving cloud of powdered snow.
The crunch of footsteps which break the surface crust.
The wind blown furrows.
The blue arch beneath the smoky cloud.
The crisp ring of the ponies' hoofs and the swish of the following
sledge.
The droning conversation of the march as driver encourages or chides
his horse.
The patter of dog pads.
The gentle flutter of our canvas shelter.
Its deep booming sound under the full force of a blizzard.
The drift snow like finest flour penetrating every hole and
corner--flickering up beneath one's head covering, pricking sharply
as a sand blast.
The sun with blurred image peeping shyly through the wreathing drift
giving pale shadowless light.
The eternal silence of the great white desert. Cloudy columns of snow
drift advancing from the south, pale yellow wraiths, heralding the
coming storm, blotting out one by one the sharp-cut lines of the land.
The blizzard, Nature's protest--the crevasse, Nature's pitfall--that
grim trap for the unwary--no hunter could conceal his snare so
perfectly--the light rippled snow bridge gives no hint or sign of
the hidden danger, its position unguessable till man or beast is
floundering, clawing and struggling for foothold on the brink.
The vast silence broken only by the mellow sounds of the marching
column.
_Friday, February_ 3, 8 A.M.--Camp 5. Roused the camp at 10 P.M. and
we started marching at 12.30. At first surface bad, but gradually
improving. We had two short spells and set up temporary camp to feed
ourselves and ponies at 3.20. Started again at 5 and marched till
7. In all covered 9 miles. Surface seemed to have improved during the
last part of the march till just before camping time, when Bowers, who
was leading, plunged into soft snow. Several of the others following
close on his heels shared his fate, and soon three ponies were plunging
and struggling in a drift. Garrard's pony, which has very broad feet,
found hard stuff beyond and then my pony got round. Forde and Keohane
led round on comparatively hard ground well to the right, and the
entangled ponies were unharnessed and led round from patch to patch
till firmer ground was reached. Then we camped and the remaining loads
were brought in. Then came the _triumph of the snow-shoe_ again. We
put a set on Bowers' big pony--at first he walked awkwardly (for a
few minutes only) then he settled down, was harnessed to his load,
brought that in and another also--all over places into which he had
been plunging. If we had more of these shoes we could certainly put
them on seven out of eight of our ponies--and after a little I think
on the eighth, Oates' pony, as certainly the ponies so shod would draw
their loads over the soft snow patches without any difficulty. It is
trying to feel that so great a help to our work has been left behind
at the station.
_Impressions_
It is pathetic to see the ponies floundering in the soft patches. The
first sink is a shock to them and seems to brace them to action. Thus
they generally try to rush through when they feel themselves
sticking. If the patch is small they land snorting and agitated on
the harder surface with much effort. And if the patch is extensive
they plunge on gamely until exhausted. Most of them after a bit
plunge forward with both forefeet together, making a series of jumps
and bringing the sledge behind them with jerks. This is, of course,
terribly tiring for them. Now and again they have to stop, and it is
horrid to see them half engulfed in the snow, panting and heaving from
the strain. Now and again one falls and lies trembling and temporarily
exhausted. It must be terribly trying for them, but it is wonderful
to see how soon they recover their strength. The quiet, lazy ponies
have a much better time than the eager ones when such troubles arise.
The soft snow which gave the trouble is evidently in the hollow of one
of the big waves that continue through the pressure ridges at Cape
Crozier towards the Bluff. There are probably more of these waves,
though we crossed several during the last part of the march--so far
it seems that the soft parts are in patches only and do not extend
the whole length of the hollow. Our course is to pick a way with
the sure-footed beasts and keep the others back till the road has
been tested.
What extraordinary uncertainties this work exhibits! Every day some
new fact comes to light--some new obstacle which threatens the gravest
obstruction. I suppose this is the reason which makes the game so
well worth playing.
_Impressions_
The more I think of our sledging outfit the more certain I am that
we have arrived at something near a perfect equipment for civilised
man under such conditions.
The border line between necessity and luxury is vague enough.
We might save weight at the expense of comfort, but all possible saving
would amount to but a mere fraction of one's loads. Supposing it were
a grim struggle for existence and we were forced to drop everything
but the barest necessities, the total saving on this three weeks'
journey would be:
lbs.
Fuel for cooking 100
Cooking apparatus 45
Personal clothing, &c., say 100
Tent, say 30
Instruments, &c. 100
---
375
This is half of one of ten sledge loads, or about one-twentieth of
the total weight carried. If this is the only part of our weights
which under any conceivable circumstances could be included in
the category of luxuries, it follows the sacrifice to comfort is
negligible. Certainly we could not have increased our mileage by
making such a sacrifice.
But beyond this it may be argued that we have an unnecessary amount
of food: 32 oz. per day per man is our allowance. I well remember
the great strait of hunger to which we were reduced in 1903 after
four or five weeks on 26 oz., and am perfectly confident that we
were steadily losing stamina at that time. Let it be supposed that
4 oz. per day per man might conceivably be saved. We have then a
3 lbs. a day saved in the camp, or 63 lbs. in the three weeks, or
1/100th part of our present loads.
The smallness of the fractions on which the comfort and physical
well-being of the men depend is due to the fact of travelling with
animals whose needs are proportionately so much greater than those of
the men. It follows that it must be sound policy to keep the men of a
sledge party keyed up to a high pitch of well-fed physical condition
as long as they have animals to drag their loads. The time for short
rations, long marches and carefullest scrutiny of detail comes when
the men are dependent on their own traction efforts.
6 P.M.--It has been blowing from the S.W., but the wind is dying
away--the sky is overcast--I write after 9 hours' sleep, the others
still peacefully slumbering. Work with animals means long intervals
of rest which are not altogether easily occupied. With our present
routine the dogs remain behind for an hour or more, trying to hit
off their arrival in the new camp soon after the ponies have been
picketed. The teams are pulling very well, Meares' especially. The
animals are getting a little fierce. Two white dogs in Meares' team
have been trained to attack strangers--they were quiet enough on board
ship, but now bark fiercely if anyone but their driver approaches the
team. They suddenly barked at me as I was pointing out the stopping
place to Meares, and Osman, my erstwhile friend, swept round and
nipped my leg lightly. I had no stick and there is no doubt that if
Meares had not been on the sledge the whole team, following the lead
of the white dogs, would have been at me in a moment.
Hunger and fear are the only realities in dog life: an empty stomach
makes a fierce dog. There is something almost alarming in the sudden
fierce display of natural instinct in a tame creature. Instinct
becomes a blind, unreasoning, relentless passion. For instance the
dogs are as a rule all very good friends in harness: they pull side
by side rubbing shoulders, they walk over each other as they settle
to rest, relations seem quite peaceful and quiet. But the moment food
is in their thoughts, however, their passions awaken; each dog is
suspicious of his neighbour, and the smallest circumstance produces
a fight. With like suddenness their rage flares out instantaneously
if they get mixed up on the march--a quiet, peaceable team which has
been lazily stretching itself with wagging tails one moment will become
a set of raging, tearing, fighting devils the next. It is such stern
facts that resign one to the sacrifice of animal life in the effort
to advance such human projects as this.
The Corner Camp. [Bearings: Obs. Hill < Bluff 86°; Obs. Hill < Knoll
80 1/2°; Mt. Terror N. 4 W.; Obs. Hill N. 69 W.]
_Saturday, February_ 4, 8 A.M., 1911.--Camp 6. A satisfactory night
march covering 10 miles and some hundreds of yards.
Roused party at 10, when it was blowing quite hard from the S.E.,
with temperature below zero. It looked as though we should have a
pretty cold start, but by the end of breakfast the wind had dropped
and the sun shone forth.
Started on a bad surface--ponies plunging a good deal for 2 miles or
so, Bowers' 'Uncle Bill' walking steadily on his snow-shoes. After this
the surface improved and the marching became steadier. We camped for
lunch after 5 miles. Going still better in the afternoon, except that
we crossed several crevasses. Oates' pony dropped his legs into two
of these and sank into one--oddly the other ponies escaped and we were
the last. Some 2 miles from our present position the cracks appeared to
cease, and in the last march we have got on to quite a hard surface on
which the ponies drag their loads with great ease. This part seems to
be swept by the winds which so continually sweep round Cape Crozier,
and therefore it is doubtful if it extends far to the south, but for
the present the going should be good. Had bright moonshine for the
march, but now the sky has clouded and it looks threatening to the
south. I think we may have a blizzard, though the wind is northerly
at present.
The ponies are in very good form; 'James Pigg' remarkably recovered
from his lameness.
8 P.M.--It is blowing a blizzard--wind moderate--temperature mild.
_Impressions_
The deep, dreamless sleep that follows the long march and the
satisfying supper.
The surface crust which breaks with a snap and sinks with a snap,
startling men and animals.
Custom robs it of dread but not of interest to the dogs, who come to
imagine such sounds as the result of some strange freak of hidden
creatures. They become all alert and spring from side to side,
hoping to catch the creature. The hope clings in spite of continual
disappointment._13_
A dog must be either eating, asleep, or _interested_. His eagerness
to snatch at interest, to chain his attention to something, is almost
pathetic. The monotony of marching kills him.
This is the fearfullest difficulty for the dog driver on a snow plain
without leading marks or objects in sight. The dog is almost human
in its demand for living interest, yet fatally less than human in
its inability to foresee.
The dog lives for the day, the hour, even the moment. The human being
can live and support discomfort for a future.
_Sunday, February_ 5.--Corner Camp, No. 6. The blizzard descended on
us at about 4 P.M. yesterday; for twenty-four hours it continued with
moderate wind, then the wind shifting slightly to the west came with
much greater violence. Now it is blowing very hard and our small frail
tent is being well tested. One imagines it cannot continue long as at
present, but remembers our proximity to Cape Crozier and the length
of the blizzards recorded in that region. As usual we sleep and eat,
conversing as cheerfully as may be in the intervals. There is scant
news of our small outside world--only a report of comfort and a rumour
that Bowers' pony has eaten one of its putties!!
11 P.M.--Still blowing hard--a real blizzard now with dusty, floury
drift--two minutes in the open makes a white figure. What a wonderful
shelter our little tent affords! We have just had an excellent meal,
a quiet pipe, and fireside conversation within, almost forgetful for
the time of the howling tempest without;--now, as we lie in our bags
warm and comfortable, one can scarcely realise that 'hell' is on the
other side of the thin sheet of canvas that protects us.
_Monday, February_ 6.--Corner Camp, No. 6. 6 P.M. The wind increased
in the night. It has been blowing very hard all day. No fun to be
out of the tent--but there are no shirkers with us. Oates has been
out regularly to feed the ponies; Meares and Wilson to attend to the
dogs--the rest of us as occasion required. The ponies are fairly
comfortable, though one sees now what great improvements could be
made to the horse clothes. The dogs ought to be quite happy. They are
curled snugly under the snow and at meal times issue from steaming warm
holes. The temperature is high, luckily. We are comfortable enough in
the tent, but it is terribly trying to the patience--over fifty hours
already and no sign of the end. The drifts about the camp are very
deep--some of the sledges almost covered. It is the old story, eat and
sleep, sleep and eat--and it's surprising how much sleep can be put in.
_Tuesday, February_ 7, 5 P.M.--Corner Camp, No. 6. The wind kept on
through the night, commencing to lull at 8 A.M. At 10 A.M. one could
see an arch of clear sky to the S.W. and W., White Island, the Bluff,
and the Western Mountains clearly defined. The wind had fallen very
light and we were able to do some camp work, digging out sledges and
making the ponies more comfortable. At 11 a low dark cloud crept over
the southern horizon and there could be no doubt the wind was coming
upon us again. At 1 P.M. the drift was all about us once more and
the sun obscured. One began to feel that fortune was altogether too
hard on us--but now as I write the wind has fallen again to a gentle
breeze, the sun is bright, and the whole southern horizon clear. A
good sign is the freedom of the Bluff from cloud. One feels that we
ought to have a little respite for the next week, and now we must
do everything possible to tend and protect our ponies. All looks
promising for the night march.
_Wednesday, February_ 8.--No. 7 Camp. Bearings: Lat. 78° 13';
Mt. Terror N. 3 W.; Erebus 23 1/2 Terror 2nd peak from south; Pk. 2
White Island 74 Terror; Castle Rk. 43 Terror. Night march just
completed. 10 miles, 200 yards. The ponies were much shaken by the
blizzard. One supposes they did not sleep--all look listless and two
or three are visibly thinner than before. But the worst case by far
is Forde's little pony; he was reduced to a weight little exceeding
400 lbs. on his sledge and caved in altogether on the second part of
the march. The load was reduced to 200 lbs., and finally Forde pulled
this in, leading the pony. The poor thing is a miserable scarecrow and
never ought to have been brought--it is the same pony that did so badly
in the ship. To-day it is very fine and bright. We are giving a good
deal of extra food to the animals, and my hope is that they will soon
pick up again--but they cannot stand more blizzards in their present
state. I'm afraid we shall not get very far, but at all hazards we
must keep the greater number of the ponies alive. The dogs are in
fine form--the blizzard has only been a pleasant rest _for them_.
_Memo_.--Left No. 7 Camp. 2 bales of fodder.
_Thursday, February_ 9.--No. 8 Camp. Made good 11 miles. Good night
march; surface excellent, but we are carrying very light loads
with the exception of one or two ponies. Forde's poor 'Misery' is
improving slightly. It is very keen on its feed. Its fate is much in
doubt. Keohane's 'Jimmy Pigg' is less lame than yesterday. In fact
there is a general buck up all round.
It was a coldish march with light head wind and temperature 5° or 6°
below zero, but it was warm in the sun all yesterday and promises to be
warm again to-day. If such weather would hold there would be nothing to
fear for the ponies. We have come to the conclusion that the principal
cause of their discomfort is the comparative thinness of their coats.
We get the well-remembered glorious views of the Western Mountains,
but now very distant. No crevasses to-day. I shall be surprised if
we pass outside all sign of them.
One begins to see how things ought to be worked next year if the
ponies hold out. Ponies and dogs are losing their snow blindness.
_Friday, February_ 10.--No. 9 Camp. 12 miles 200 yards. Cold march,
very chilly wind, overcast sky, difficult to see surface or course.
Noticed sledges, ponies, &c., cast shadows all round.
Surface very good and animals did splendidly.
We came over some undulations during the early part of the march,
but the last part appeared quite flat. I think I remember observing
the same fact on our former trip.
The wind veers and backs from S. to W. and even to N., coming in
gusts. The sastrugi are distinctly S.S.W. There isn't a shadow of
doubt that the prevailing wind is along the coast, taking the curve
of the deep bay south of the Bluff.
The question now is: Shall we by going due southward keep this hard
surface? If so, we should have little difficulty in reaching the
Beardmore Glacier next year.
We turn out of our sleeping-bags about 9 P.M. Somewhere about 11.30 I
shout to the Soldier 'How are things?' There is a response suggesting
readiness, and soon after figures are busy amongst sledges and
ponies. It is chilling work for the fingers and not too warm for the
feet. The rugs come off the animals, the harness is put on, tents and
camp equipment are loaded on the sledges, nosebags filled for the next
halt; one by one the animals are taken off the picketing rope and yoked
to the sledge. Oates watches his animal warily, reluctant to keep such
a nervous creature standing in the traces. If one is prompt one feels
impatient and fretful whilst watching one's more tardy fellows. Wilson
and Meares hang about ready to help with odds and ends. Still we wait:
the picketing lines must be gathered up, a few pony putties need
adjustment, a party has been slow striking their tent. With numbed
fingers on our horse's bridle and the animal striving to turn its
head from the wind one feels resentful. At last all is ready. One says
'All right, Bowers, go ahead,' and Birdie leads his big animal forward,
starting, as he continues, at a steady pace. The horses have got cold
and at the word they are off, the Soldier's and one or two others
with a rush. Finnesko give poor foothold on the slippery sastrugi,
and for a minute or two drivers have some difficulty in maintaining
the pace on their feet. Movement is warming, and in ten minutes the
column has settled itself to steady marching.
The pace is still brisk, the light bad, and at intervals one or another
of us suddenly steps on a slippery patch and falls prone. These are
the only real incidents of the march--for the rest it passes with
a steady tramp and slight variation of formation. The weaker ponies
drop a bit but not far, so that they are soon up in line again when
the first halt is made. We have come to a single halt in each half
march. Last night it was too cold to stop long and a very few minutes
found us on the go again.
As the end of the half march approaches I get out my whistle. Then
at a shrill blast Bowers wheels slightly to the left, his tent mates
lead still farther out to get the distance for the picket lines;
Oates and I stop behind Bowers and Evans, the two other sledges of
our squad behind the two other of Bowers'. So we are drawn up in camp
formation. The picket lines are run across at right angles to the line
of advance and secured to the two sledges at each end. In a few minutes
ponies are on the lines covered, tents up again and cookers going.
Meanwhile the dog drivers, after a long cold wait at the old camp,
have packed the last sledge and come trotting along our tracks. They
try to time their arrival in the new camp immediately after our own
and generally succeed well. The mid march halt runs into an hour to an
hour and a half, and at the end we pack up and tramp forth again. We
generally make our final camp about 8 o'clock, and within an hour
and a half most of us are in our sleeping-bags. Such is at present
the daily routine. At the long halt we do our best for our animals
by building snow walls and improving their rugs, &c.
_Saturday, February_ 11.--No. 10 Camp. Bearings: Lat. 78° 47'. Bluff
S. 79 W.; Left extreme Bluff 65°; Bluff A White Island near Sound. 11
miles. Covered 6 and 5 miles between halts. The surface has got a good
deal softer. In the next two marches we should know more certainly,
but it looks as though the conditions to the south will not be so
good as those we have had hitherto.
Blossom, Evans' pony, has very small hoofs and found the going very
bad. It is less a question of load than one of walking, and there is
no doubt that some form of snow-shoe would help greatly. The question
is, what form?
All the ponies were a little done when we stopped, but the weather
is favourable for a good rest; there is no doubt this night marching
is the best policy.
Even the dogs found the surface more difficult to-day, but they are
pulling very well. Meares has deposed Osman in favour of Rabchick,
as the former was getting either very disobedient or very deaf. The
change appears excellent. Rabchick leads most obediently.
Mem. for next year. A stout male bamboo shod with a spike to sound
for crevasses.
_Sunday, February_ 12.--No. 11 Camp. 10 miles. Depot one Bale
of Fodder. Variation 150 E. South True = N. 30 E. by compass. The
surface is getting decidedly worse. The ponies sink quite deep every
now and again. We marched 6 1/4 miles before lunch, Blossom dropping
considerably behind. He lagged more on the second march and we halted
at 9 miles. Evans said he might be dragged for another mile and we
went on for that distance and camped.
The sky was overcast: very dark and snowy looking in the south--very
difficult to steer a course. Mt. Discovery is in line with the south
end of the Bluff from the camp and we are near the 79th parallel. We
must get exact bearings for this is to be called the 'Bluff Camp'
and should play an important part in the future. Bearings: Bluff 36°
13'; Black Island Rht. Ex. I have decided to send E. Evans, Forde,
and Keohane back with the three weakest ponies which they have been
leading. The remaining five ponies which have been improving in
condition will go on for a few days at least, and we must see how
near we can come to the 80th parallel.
To-night we have been making all the necessary arrangements for this
plan. Cherry-Garrard is to come into our tent.
_Monday, February_ 13.--No. 12 Camp. 9 miles 150 yds. The wind got up
from the south with drift before we started yesterday--all appearance
of a blizzard. But we got away at 12.30 and marched through drift for
7 miles. It was exceedingly cold at first. Just at starting the sky
cleared in the wonderfully rapid fashion usual in these regions. We
saw that our camp had the southern edge of the base rock of the Bluff
in line with Mt. Discovery, and White Island well clear of the eastern
slope of Mt. Erebus. A fairly easy alignment to pick up.
At lunch time the sky lightened up and the drift temporarily ceased. I
thought we were going to get in a good march, but on starting again
the drift came thicker than ever and soon the course grew wild. We
went on for 2 miles and then I decided to camp. So here we are with a
full blizzard blowing. I told Wilson I should camp if it grew thick,
and hope he and Meares have stopped where they were. They saw Evans
start back from No. 11 Camp before leaving. I trust they have got
in something of a march before stopping. This continuous bad weather
is exceedingly trying, but our own ponies are quite comfortable this
time, I'm glad to say. We have built them extensive snow walls behind
which they seem to get quite comfortable shelter. We are five in a
tent yet fairly comfortable.
Our ponies' coats are certainly getting thicker and I see no reason
why we shouldn't get to the 80th parallel if only the weather would
give us a chance.
Bowers is wonderful. Throughout the night he has worn no head-gear
but a common green felt hat kept on with a chin stay and affording no
cover whatever for the ears. His face and ears remain bright red. The
rest of us were glad to have thick Balaclavas and wind helmets. I have
never seen anyone so unaffected by the cold. To-night he remained
outside a full hour after the rest of us had got into the tent. He
was simply pottering about the camp doing small jobs to the sledges,
&c. Cherry-Garrard is remarkable because of his eyes. He can only see
through glasses and has to wrestle with all sorts of inconveniences
in consequence. Yet one could never guess it--for he manages somehow
to do more than his share of the work.
_Tuesday, February_ 14.--13 Camp. 7 miles 650 yards. A disappointing
day: the weather had cleared, the night was fine though cold,
temperature well below zero with a keen S.W. breeze. Soon after the
start we struck very bad surface conditions. The ponies sank lower
than their hocks frequently and the soft patches of snow left by the
blizzard lay in sandy heaps, making great friction for the runners. We
struggled on, but found Gran with Weary Willy dropping to the rear. I
consulted Oates as to distance and he cheerfully proposed 15 miles
for the day! This piqued me somewhat and I marched till the sledge
meter showed 6 1/2 miles. By this time Weary Willy had dropped about
three-quarters of a mile and the dog teams were approaching. Suddenly
we heard much barking in the distance, and later it was evident that
something had gone wrong. Oates and then I hurried back. I met Meares,
who told me the dogs of his team had got out of hand and attacked
Weary Willy when they saw him fall. Finally they had been beaten off
and W.W. was being led without his sledge. W.W. had been much bitten,
but luckily I think not seriously: he appears to have made a gallant
fight, and bit and shook some of the dogs with his teeth. Gran did
his best, breaking his ski stick. Meares broke his dog stick--one way
and another the dogs must have had a rocky time, yet they seemed to
bear charmed lives when their blood is up, as apparently not one of
them has been injured.
After lunch four of us went back and dragged up the load. It taught us
the nature of the surface more than many hours of pony leading!! The
incident is deplorable and the blame widespread. I find W.W.'s load
was much heavier than that of the other ponies.
I blame myself for not supervising these matters more effectively
and for allowing W.W. to get so far behind.
We started off again after lunch, but when we had done two-thirds of a
mile, W.W.'s condition made it advisable to halt. He has been given a
hot feed, a large snow wall, and some extra sacking--the day promises
to be quiet and warm for him, and one can only hope that these measures
will put him right again. But the whole thing is very annoying.
_Memo_.--Arrangements for ponies.
1. Hot bran or oat mashes.
2. Clippers for breaking wires of bales.
3. Pickets for horses.
4. Lighter ponies to take 10 ft. sledges?
The surface is so crusty and friable that the question of snow-shoes
again becomes of great importance.
All the sastrugi are from S.W. by S. to S.W. and all the wind that
we have experienced in this region--there cannot be a doubt that the
wind sweeps up the coast at all seasons.
A point has arisen as to the deposition. David [11] called the crusts
seasonal. This must be wrong; they mark blizzards, but after each
blizzard fresh crusts are formed only over the patchy heaps left by the
blizzard. A blizzard seems to leave heaps which cover anything from
one-sixth to one-third of the whole surface--such heaps presumably
turn hollows into mounds with fresh hollows between--these are filled
in turn by ensuing blizzards. If this is so, the only way to get at
the seasonal deposition would be to average the heaps deposited and
multiply this by the number of blizzards in the year.
_Monday, February_ 15.--14 Camp. 7 miles 775 yards. The surface was
wretched to-day, the two drawbacks of yesterday (the thin crusts which
let the ponies through and the sandy heaps which hang on the runners)
if anything exaggerated.
Bowers' pony refused work at intervals for the first time. His hind
legs sink very deep. Weary Willy is decidedly better. The Soldier
takes a gloomy view of everything, but I've come to see that this is
a characteristic of him. In spite of it he pays every attention to
the weaker horses.
We had frequent halts on the march, but managed 4 miles before lunch
and 3 1/2 after.
The temperature was -15° at the lunch camp. It was cold sitting in
the tent waiting for the ponies to rest. The thermometer is now -7°,
but there is a bright sun and no wind, which makes the air feel
quite comfortable: one's socks and finnesko dry well. Our provision
allowance is working out very well. In fact all is well with us except
the condition of the ponies. The more I see of the matter the more
certain I am that we must save all the ponies to get better value out
of them next year. It would have been ridiculous to have worked some
out this year as the Soldier wished. Even now I feel we went too far
with the first three.
One thing is certain. A good snow-shoe would be worth its weight in
gold on this surface, and if we can get something really practical
we ought to greatly increase our distances next year.
_Mems_.--Storage of biscuit next year, lashing cases on sledges.
Look into sledgemeter.
Picket lines for ponies.
Food tanks to be size required.
Two sledges altered to take steel runners.
Stowage of pony food. Enough sacks for ready bags.
_Thursday, February_ 16.--6 miles 1450 yards. 15 Camp. The surface
a good deal better, but the ponies running out. Three of the five
could go on without difficulty. Bowers' pony might go on a bit,
but Weary Willy is a good deal done up, and to push him further
would be to risk him unduly, so to-morrow we turn. The temperature
on the march to-night fell to -21° with a brisk S.W. breeze. Bowers
started out as usual in his small felt hat, ears uncovered. Luckily
I called a halt after a mile and looked at him. His ears were quite
white. Cherry and I nursed them back whilst the patient seemed to
feel nothing but intense surprise and disgust at the mere fact of
possessing such unruly organs. Oates' nose gave great trouble. I got
frostbitten on the cheek lightly, as also did Cherry-Garrard.
Tried to march in light woollen mits to great discomfort.
_Friday, February_ 17.--Camp 15. Lat. 79° 28 1/2' S. It clouded over
yesterday--the temperature rose and some snow fell. Wind from the
south, cold and biting, as we turned out. We started to build the
depot. I had intended to go on half a march and return to same camp,
leaving Weary Willy to rest, but under the circumstances did not like
to take risk.
Stores left in depôt:
Lat. 79° 29'. Depot.
lbs.
245 7 weeks' full provision bags for 1 unit
12 2 days' provision bags for 1 unit
8 8 weeks' tea
31 6 weeks' extra butter
176 176 lbs. biscuit (7 weeks full biscuit)
85 8 1/2 gallons oil (12 weeks oil for 1 unit)
850 5 sacks of oats
424 4 bales of fodder
250 Tank of dog biscuit
100 2 cases of biscuit
----
2181
1 skein white line
1 set breast harness
2 12 ft. sledges
2 pair ski, 1 pair ski sticks
1 Minimum Thermometer
1 tin Rowntree cocoa
1 tin matches
With packing we have landed considerably over a ton of stuff. It is a
pity we couldn't get to 80°, but as it is we shall have a good leg up
for next year and can at least feed the ponies full up to this point.
Our Camp 15 is very well marked, I think. Besides the flagstaff and
black flag we have piled biscuit boxes, filled and empty, to act as
reflectors--secured tea tins to the sledges, which are planted upright
in the snow. The depot cairn is more than 6 ft. above the surface,
very solid and large; then there are the pony protection walls;
altogether it should show up for many miles.
I forgot to mention that looking back on the 15th we saw a cairn
built on a camp 12 1/2 miles behind--it was miraged up.
It seems as though some of our party will find spring journeys pretty
trying. Oates' nose is always on the point of being frostbitten;
Meares has a refractory toe which gives him much trouble--this is
the worst prospect for summit work. I have been wondering how I shall
stick the summit again, this cold spell gives ideas. I think I shall
be all right, but one must be prepared for a pretty good doing.