Camp Four, Again
Well, we're still here. The blizzard continues, all last night and I am writing this late in the afternoon.
We have done everything possible to shelter and protect the ponies but there seems no way of doing so when the snow is thick and driving fast. We men are snug and comfortable enough, but it is very evil to lie here and know that the weather is steadily sapping the strength of the beasts on which so much depends. It requires much philosophy to be cheerful on such occasions.
Meares and the dog party have pulled up to within a quarter mile of us. The dogs don't seem to mind the weather at all and still pull well. They should be able to help us a good deal.
The tents and sledges are badly drifted up, the drifts behind the pony walls having been dug out several times. I shall be glad indeed to be on the march again, and oh! for a little sun. Some of the fine drift snow finds its way under the rugs and straps, which melts and makes the ponies' bellies wet. It is not easy to understand at first why the blizzard should have such a withering effect on the poor beasts. I suppose that hte snow catches on the delicate places where they are harnessed, causing misery.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Saturday, November 6, 2010
6 November, 1911
Camp Four
We started in the usual order, arranging that full loads should be carried if the black dots to the south proved to be the motor. On arrival at these we found our fears confirmed. A note from Evans stated the old trouble. The big end of Engine No. 1 cylinder had cracked. Evidently the engines are not fit for working in this climate. The motor party has proceeded as a manhauling unit as arranged. I suppose that they will exhaust themselves long before we who have yet our ponies to haul for us. They are pulling loads of 450 lbs. My pony, Snippets, is pulling over 700 lbs, sledge included. We are all much cheered by this performance.
A blizzard threatened when we made camp so built walls for the ponies. They seem comfortable, though there isn't much snow. The new rugs cover them well. We learned to build high walls last year, so reaped some reward from that disastrous journey.
I write this late in the day, and the wind is so strong I fear we shall not be able to go on tonight. It is -5, lower than I like in a blizzard, and chilly in the tent. I have been observing clouds. It' all one can do.
We started in the usual order, arranging that full loads should be carried if the black dots to the south proved to be the motor. On arrival at these we found our fears confirmed. A note from Evans stated the old trouble. The big end of Engine No. 1 cylinder had cracked. Evidently the engines are not fit for working in this climate. The motor party has proceeded as a manhauling unit as arranged. I suppose that they will exhaust themselves long before we who have yet our ponies to haul for us. They are pulling loads of 450 lbs. My pony, Snippets, is pulling over 700 lbs, sledge included. We are all much cheered by this performance.
A blizzard threatened when we made camp so built walls for the ponies. They seem comfortable, though there isn't much snow. The new rugs cover them well. We learned to build high walls last year, so reaped some reward from that disastrous journey.
I write this late in the day, and the wind is so strong I fear we shall not be able to go on tonight. It is -5, lower than I like in a blizzard, and chilly in the tent. I have been observing clouds. It' all one can do.
Friday, November 5, 2010
5 November, 1911
Camp 3, Corner Camp.
Found a very troubled note from Evans with the motor saying he can only go 7 miles per day. They have taken on nine bags of forage, but I can see three black dots to the south which we can only imagine are the deserted motor with its loaded sledges. The men have gone on as a supporting party, as directed. It is a disappointment. I had hoped better of the machines once they got away on the Barrier surface.
The ponies' appetites are fanciful. They do not like the oil cake, but for the moment seem to take to the fodder left here. They are off it again today, however. It is a sad pity they won't eat well now, because later on one can imagine how ravenous they will become.
Chinaman and Jehu will not go far I fear.
No fireworks for us tonight.
Found a very troubled note from Evans with the motor saying he can only go 7 miles per day. They have taken on nine bags of forage, but I can see three black dots to the south which we can only imagine are the deserted motor with its loaded sledges. The men have gone on as a supporting party, as directed. It is a disappointment. I had hoped better of the machines once they got away on the Barrier surface.
The ponies' appetites are fanciful. They do not like the oil cake, but for the moment seem to take to the fodder left here. They are off it again today, however. It is a sad pity they won't eat well now, because later on one can imagine how ravenous they will become.
Chinaman and Jehu will not go far I fear.
No fireworks for us tonight.
4 November, 1911
Day 4 of our long trek and alas! the dream of great help from the machines is at an end!
It seems that the cylinder of Day's motor broke, and since they had no spares, have had to unload and dump a great deal of things, including of course petrol and lubricant, and have gone on with one motor and one sledge.
I can see their tracks in the snow.
The ponies did pretty well, but it has been a cruel surface most of the time. Jehu is better than I expected to find him, Chinaman not so well. They are bad crocks both of them. It was pretty cold during the night, -7 when we camped, with a crisp breeze blowing. Th ponies don't like it, but now, as I write this, the sun is shining through a white haze, the wind has dropped, and the picketing line is comfortable for the poor beasts. They are not yet on their feed.
Damn shame about those motors.
It seems that the cylinder of Day's motor broke, and since they had no spares, have had to unload and dump a great deal of things, including of course petrol and lubricant, and have gone on with one motor and one sledge.
I can see their tracks in the snow.
The ponies did pretty well, but it has been a cruel surface most of the time. Jehu is better than I expected to find him, Chinaman not so well. They are bad crocks both of them. It was pretty cold during the night, -7 when we camped, with a crisp breeze blowing. Th ponies don't like it, but now, as I write this, the sun is shining through a white haze, the wind has dropped, and the picketing line is comfortable for the poor beasts. They are not yet on their feed.
Damn shame about those motors.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
3rd November, 1911
Camp One
My party left just before ten this morning: Wilson, Cherry-Garrard and I. Our ponies marched steadily over the sea ice. At Safety Camp we met up with Atkinson and Ponting arrived, set up his cinematograph and just caught the flying rear guard being led by Snatcher in fine form.
After lunch we packed up and marched on steadily as before. I don't like these midnight lunches, but for man the march that follows is pleasant when, as today, the win falls and the sun steadily increases its heat.
We are camped some 5 miles beyond Safety Camp, and all the ponies are tired, Chinaman and Jehu very tired. Nearly all are inclined to be off their feed, but this is temporary we think. We have built walls for them but there is no wind and the sun gets warmer by the minute.
1PM: feeding time. Oates fed the ponies. It is a sweltering day, the air breathless, the glare intense—one loses sight of the fact that the temperature is low (-22)—one's mind seeks comparison in hot sunlit streets and scorching pavements, yet six hours ago my thumb was frostbitten. All the inconveniences of frozen footwear and damp clothes and sleeping bags have vanished entirely.
Crean announced that bones has eaten Christopher's goggles. Now Christopher is blinking in the hot sun.
Ponting took this shot of Meares and Dimitri at the blubber stove at Hut Point today.
My party left just before ten this morning: Wilson, Cherry-Garrard and I. Our ponies marched steadily over the sea ice. At Safety Camp we met up with Atkinson and Ponting arrived, set up his cinematograph and just caught the flying rear guard being led by Snatcher in fine form.
After lunch we packed up and marched on steadily as before. I don't like these midnight lunches, but for man the march that follows is pleasant when, as today, the win falls and the sun steadily increases its heat.
We are camped some 5 miles beyond Safety Camp, and all the ponies are tired, Chinaman and Jehu very tired. Nearly all are inclined to be off their feed, but this is temporary we think. We have built walls for them but there is no wind and the sun gets warmer by the minute.
1PM: feeding time. Oates fed the ponies. It is a sweltering day, the air breathless, the glare intense—one loses sight of the fact that the temperature is low (-22)—one's mind seeks comparison in hot sunlit streets and scorching pavements, yet six hours ago my thumb was frostbitten. All the inconveniences of frozen footwear and damp clothes and sleeping bags have vanished entirely.
Crean announced that bones has eaten Christopher's goggles. Now Christopher is blinking in the hot sun.
Ponting took this shot of Meares and Dimitri at the blubber stove at Hut Point today.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
2nd November, 1911
Our march reminds me of a regatta or a somewhat disorganized fleet with ships of very unequal speed. The plan of further advance has now been evolved. We shall start in three parties — the very slow ponies, the medium paced, and the fliers. Snatcher starting last will probably overtake the leading unit. All this requires a good deal of arranging. We have decided to begin night marching, and shall get away after supper, I hope. The weather is hourly improving, but at this season that does not count for much.
At present the ponies are very comfortably stabled. Michael, Chinaman and James Pigg are actually in the hut. Chinaman kept us alive all night by stamping on the floor.
No doubt this will be their last night under a roof! I hope it's not also mine!
Meares and Dimitri are here with the dog team, and Ponting with a great photographic outfit. I fear he won't get much chance to get results.
At present the ponies are very comfortably stabled. Michael, Chinaman and James Pigg are actually in the hut. Chinaman kept us alive all night by stamping on the floor.
No doubt this will be their last night under a roof! I hope it's not also mine!
Meares and Dimitri are here with the dog team, and Ponting with a great photographic outfit. I fear he won't get much chance to get results.
Monday, November 1, 2010
1st November, 1911
So this is it! We begin our great journey to the Pole.
This morning we left in detachments: Michael, Nobby and Chinaman were first to get away about 11am. Oates had to hold on to Christopher for all he was worth. Bones ambled off with Crean, I led Snippets in his wake. P.O. Evans and Snatcher passed us not long after.
We had dark skies and strong winds, which the ponies hate. Bowers and Victor passed me at Razorback, leaving me where I best wished to be - the tail of the line. It took us a little under five hours to get in to Hut Point, and none too soon; it is now blowing a gale.
I shall miss our old homestead at Cape Evans. I left photographs of Kathleen up on the walls instead of bringing them. I'll see her again in the Autumn when we return.
The photograph above is everyone but Clissold. And Ponting, of course.
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