Thursday, January 7, 2010

7 January, 1911

We continue to load out stores apace, each team making several journeys back and forth to the ship every day. The ponies are freshening up -- a number of incidents of them nearly running away! Oates is splendid with them--I do not know what we should do without him. The dog teams are doing their share, too.

I am wondering how we shall stable the ponies in winter. Oates thinks I should have already given this some thought before we set sail, but my view is that you cross some bridges as you come to them and not before.

A whole host of other ills beside snow-bindness have come upon us. Sore faces and lips, blistered feet, cuts and abrasions; there are few without some troublesome ailment, but, of course, such things are 'part of the business.' The soles of my feet are infernally sore.

Ponting had another narrow escape. He goes off with a small sledge loaded with his photography equipment to take pictures of interesting features, and all of a sudden he started going through the ice! he scrambled as best he could and came out on more solid surface without having drowned. He remarked he was perspiring very freely!

Looking back it is easy to see that we were terribly incautious in our treatment of this decaying ice. As the summer progresses, the ice breaks up and melts. Where the day before one area was thick and hard, it is now slushy and soft. One forgets one is walking on the sea.

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