Camp 60
The vicissitudes of this work are bewildering. Last night we decided to leave our ski on account of the sastrugi. This morning we marched out a mile in 40 minutes and the sastrugi gradually disappeared. I kept debating the ski question and at this point stopped, and after discussion we went back and fetched the ski; it cost us 1 1/2 hours nearly. Marching again, I found to my horror we could scarcely move the sledge on ski; the first hour was awful owing to the wretched coating of loose sandy snow. However, we persisted, and towards the latter end of our tiring march we began to make better progress, but the work is still awfully heavy.
I must stick to ski after this.
I am awfully glad we have hung on to the ski; hard as the marching is, it is far less tiring on ski. Bowers has a heavy time on foot, but nothing seems to tire him. Evans has a nasty cut on his hand from the sledge-making. I hope it won't give trouble.
Our food continues to amply satisfy. What luck to have hit on such an excellent ration. We really are an excellently found party.
Except for Bower's lack of ski, Oates's limp, and Evans's cut hand, of course. And my damned indecision. I mean indigestion.
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