SPRING DEPOT JOURNEY
However well equipped an expedition may be, there are always special
arrangements and adaptions necessary to further the labour-saving
contrivances and extend the radius of action.
For this reason the short autumn journeys had been undertaken to test the
equipment as well as to give us sledging experience and carry weights of
stores out on to the Barrier. And now that Wilson had added yet more
knowledge to what we were up against, we set Evans and his seamen
companions on to the most strenuous preparations for going South with
sledges. Thus, while one lot of men were skilfully fitting sledges with
convenient straps to secure the loads against the inevitable bumping,
jolting, and capsizing, and lashing tank-like contrivances of waterproof
canvas on, to contain the component units of food, another set of people
would be fastening light wicker or venesta boxes athwart the sledge ends
for carrying instruments and such perishable things as the primus stoves
and methylated spirit bottles. These sledges were under the particular
charge of Petty Officer Evans, and he took delightful pride in his
office. What little gray dawn there was enabled him gleefully to inspect
the completed sledges as they stood ready in their special groups outside
our hut.
The more general type would be the 12 ft. sledge, constructed of light
elm with hickory runners. On it were secured venesta wood trays for the
tins of paraffin, usually in front, the aforesaid capacious canvas tank,
and behind everything the oblong instrument box surmounted by light
wooden chocks for holding the aluminium cooker.
All sledges had small manilla rope spans, secured in most seamanlike
fashion, to take the towing strain and throw it fairly through the
structure of these light but wonderfully strong sledges.
While the sledging equipment advanced, Bowers, aided by Cherry-Garrard,
sorted out the rations, which he weighed and packed in the most
business-like manner. Bowers was always well served, for he had the happy
knack of enlisting volunteers for whatever his particular purpose called.
By September 1 Scott must have felt that no portion of his preparations
was incomplete, for the travelling equipment had been taken in hand with
a thoroughness that was the outcome of zeal and thoughtful attention to
detail.
Previous to the departure of the large caravan for the Polar journey, a
spring journey was proposed for the purpose of laying a small depot at
Corner Camp and generally reconnoitring. On account of the low spring
temperatures no animals were used for this trip, which was carried out by
Gran, Forde, and myself.
We started on ski, pulling a heavy load of over six hundred pounds. We
marched from eight o'clock in the morning until nine at night, with a
short interval for lunch, and that first day out we covered twenty miles
and arrived on the Great Ice Barrier at the close of our march. The
Barrier in its bleak loneliness is probably the most desolate portion of
the earth's surface, with the possible exception of the high plateau
which forms the ice cap of the great Antarctic mountain ranges. Although
only twenty miles from our winter quarters at Cape Evans, the temperature
was 21 degrees lower, as we afterwards found by comparison.
We were all three anxious to acquit ourselves well, and although the
temperature on camping was 42 degrees below zero we had not experienced
any great discomfort until we encountered a sharp, cold breeze off Cape
Armitage, which resulted in Forde having his nose badly frost-bitten.
Directly this was noticed we quickly unpacked our sledge, erected our
tent, and whilst Gran cooked the supper I applied what warmth I could to
Forde's nose to bring the frozen part of it back to life.
Needless to say, the sharp air had keened our appetites, and we were all
eager for the fragrant smelling pemmican. We sat round on our rolled-up
fur sleeping-bags, warming our hands over the primus stove, and literally
yearning for the moment to arrive when the pemmican would boil and we
could absorb the delicious beverage and derive some badly needed warmth
therefrom. Following the pemmican and biscuit came a fine brew of cocoa.
This finished, the bags were unstrapped and laid out, when the three of
us soon curled up and, huddling together for warmth, endeavoured to get
to sleep. The thermometer, however, fell to 60 degrees below zero, and
the cold seemed to grip us particularly about the feet and loins. All
night we shivered and fidgeted, feeling the want of extra beat in the
small of our backs more than elsewhere. We got little or no sleep that
night, and my companions were as glad as I was myself when daylight came
and we got busy with our breakfast.
We arrived at the old pony-food depot, Safety Camp, during the forenoon
of September 9, and dug out the stores and bales of compressed hay, which
we carefully tallied and marked by setting up a large black flag. Then we
continued towards Corner Camp. We covered only eight or nine miles this
second day on account of spending much time in digging out the depot at
Safety Camp. The temperature seemed to fall as we advanced into the
Barrier, and this night the thermometer fell to 62 degrees below zero,
which meant more shivering and even more discomfort, because now the
moisture from our bodies and our breath formed ice in the fur of our
sleeping-bags, especially at the head, hips, and feet. One can never
forget the horrible ice-clammy feeling of one's face against the frozen
fur. How I yearned for a whiff of mild New Zealand air and an hour of its
glorious sunshine to thaw my frozen form.
In spite of the low temperature we did sleep this second night, for we
were tired men, and Nature nursed us somehow into a sort of mild
unconsciousness.
On the third day of our march a considerable effort was necessary to
bring the sledge out of its settled position in the hard snow, but we
soon got going, like willing horses swaying at our load. The day was very
cold and our breath came out grayly steaming in the clear, crisp air.
At first our faces, feet, and fingers were quite painful from the cold,
which bit right through, but as the march progressed the temperature rose
kindly, until towards noon it was only about 30 degrees below zero, warm
enough after what we had experienced earlier.
As we trudged along we watched the mist which clothed the distant hills
uncurl from their summits and roll back into rising sheets of vapour
which finally dispersed and left a cloudless sky. The awful absence of
life struck strong notes within us. Even our feet made no noise at all,
clad in their soft fur boots, for we could no longer pull on ski owing to
the increasing weight of ice collecting in our sleeping-bags and on the
sledging equipment.
We were disappointed as the day progressed, for the sky became overcast
and the wind blew stronger and stronger from the W.S.W: with low drifts,
and at 8.30 p.m., it being too dark to see properly, we camped. By the
time our tent was pitched a fair blizzard was upon us, and by 10 o'clock
the camp was well snowed up. In spite of the howling wind we made all
snug inside, and the temperature rose to such an extent that we got quite
a good night's rest.
The blizzard continued throughout the night, but on the following day the
wind took off somewhat, and by the afternoon it was fine enough for us to
make a start again, which we did in a biting cold wind. We marched on
until nightfall, covering about seven and a half miles.
On the 13th September, having shivered in my bag all night, at five
o'clock I told my companions to get up, both of them being awake. The
cold had been so dreadful that none of us had slept a wink, and we were
not at all surprised on looking at the thermometer when we found the
temperature was 73.3 degrees below zero, Fahrenheit.
We cooked a meal and then prepared to scout for Corner Camp. I got a
glimpse of Observation Hill, a well-known landmark, and took a bearing of
that and another hill.
This gave me our whereabouts, and then we struck southward for a short
distance until we saw just the top of the flagstaff of Corner Camp, which
had been entirely buried up by the winter's snow-drifts. When we reached
the Camp we pitched our tent and dug out all the forenoon, until
eventually we had got all the stores repacked in an accessible fashion at
the top of a great snow cairn constructed by the three of us. It was
about the coldest day's work I ever remember doing.
The job finished, we made ourselves some tea and then started to march
back to Hut Point, nearly thirty-five miles away. We proposed to do this
distance without camping, except for a little food, for we had no wish to
remain another minute at Corner Camp, where it was blowing a strong
breeze with a temperature of 32 degrees below zero all the time we were
digging, in fact about as much as we could stick. When four miles on our
homeward journey the wind dropped to a calm, and at 10.30 we had some
pemmican and tea, having covered nine and a half miles according to our
sledge meter. We started again at midnight, and, steering by stars, kept
our course correct. The hot tea seemed to run through my veins; its
effect was magical, and the ice-bitten feeling of tired men gave way once
more to vigour and alertness.
As we started out again we witnessed a magnificent Auroral display, and
as we dragged the now light sledge onward we watched the gold white
streamers waving and playing in the heavens. The atmosphere, was
extraordinarily clear, and we seemed to be marching in fairyland, but for
the cold which made our breath come in gasps. We were cased lightly in
ice about the shoulders, loins, and feet, and we were also covered with
the unpleasant rime which our backs had brushed off the tent walls when
we had camped. On we went, however, confident but silent. No other sound
now but the swish, swish of our ski as we sped through the soft new snow.
In the light of the Aurora objects stood out with the razor-edge
sharpness of an after-blizzard atmosphere, and the temperature seemed to
fall even lower than at midnight. Our fingers seemed to be cut with the
frost burn, and frost bites played all round our faces, making us wince
with pain.
We were marching, as, it were, under the shadow of Erebus, the great
Antarctic volcano, and on this never-to-be-forgotten night the Southern
Lights played for hours. If for nothing else, it was worth making such a
sledge journey to witness the display. First, vertical shafts ascended in
a fan of electric flame, and then the shafts all merged into a filmy,
pale chrome sheet. This faded and intensified alternately, and then in an
instant disappeared, but more flaming lights burst into view in other
parts of the heavens, and a phantom curtain of glittering electric violet
trembled between the lights and the stars.
No wonder Wilson and Bowers stated that the Aurora effects were much
better and more variegated in colour this southern side of Mount Erebus.
The awful splendour of this majestic vision gave us all a most eerie
feeling, and we forgot our fatigue and the cold whilst we watched.
The Southern Lights continued for some hours, only vanishing with the
faint appearance of dawn. With daylight the well-known hills which
surrounded our winter quarters thrust themselves into view, and gladdened
by this sight we redoubled our efforts.
At 5 a.m. we had alight breakfast of tea and biscuits. We were off again
before six, and we continued marching until we came to the edge of the
Great Ice Barrier shortly before 1 p.m. We did not stop for lunch, but
marched straight to Hut Point, arriving at three o'clock at the Hut.
We cooked ourselves a tremendous meal, which we ate steadily from 4 to
5.30, and then we discussed marching on to our winter quarters at Cape
Evans, fifteen miles farther.
Had we started we might have got in by 3 a.m., but not before. We had
marched all through one night, and besides digging out Corner Camp, we
had covered nearly thirty-five miles, which on top of a day's work we
considered good enough. We therefore prepared the hut for the night; two
of us turned in about seven and soon fell asleep. Gran remained sitting
at the stove, as his bag was in such a shockingly iced-up condition that
he could not yet get into it. He awoke us about 10 p.m. with more food,
cocoa and porridge, both of which were excellent. I full well remember
that he put about four ounces of butter into each bowl of porridge, which
we mightily enjoyed. We then slept again till morning--a long, warm,
dreamless sleep.
We had an easy march back to Cape Evans on the sea ice, and arrived in
the evening at the Main Hut, which appeared to us like a palace after our
cold spring journey.