31 October, 1910

The witching hour. 

You have to have good nerves to be in the Antarctic, knowing there is a whole vast continent out there with only a few souls on it. Especially in winter when it's dark 24 hours a day. You get used to taking your exercise in the pitch black. You think you see ghosts, but it's only your mind playing tricks on you. 

It's so odd for it to be nearly the end of Spring.

30 October, 1910

Finally with the Terra Nova. We have a good hard slog ahead of us getting her ship-shape. Everything must be unloaded and re-stowed with the fresh provisions we're picking up here, along with the animals and their feed. First, though, repairs: we can't have any leaks. She's going to be up in dry dock do we can take a good look at her. 

Kathleen not too impressed with New Zealand, thinks it very provincial. Everything not quite good enough. Hope she settles in soon of the month we have here will drag. 

That's her calling me for lunch now. 

28 October, 1910

Hooray! We've word that our last 2,500 pounds was raised by a generous fellow in Australia. 

This is surely the most expensive expedition ever undertaken, despite our cost-cutting. I doubt there will ever be such an amount spent to get to so distant a place by men ever again! 

The moon looks lovely tonight. 

Everything appears backwards down here, when you look up. 

27 October, 1910

Well, what a fine welcome we've had! No sooner do we disembark, than I am practically accosted by reporters wanting to know what I think of Amundsen's plans to beat me to the Pole! I'm afraid the little man wouldn't let it go, so I replied that should Mr. Amundsen want to try for the Pole from some part of the coast of West Antarctica, I bid him good luck. 

It seems that everyone and their mother knows more about what's going on here than I do. It is most trying. Are we going to sail into Cape Crozier only to find the Fram already moored there? Or will he be using our old Discovery hut? How impudent! It's truly shocking. 

Markham must know from the Press back home what is up. He must be absolutely livid! We are staying with his sister, Lady Bowen, and her husband. Sir Charles, before going on to Lyttleton. They are very nice, of course, and won't brook any talk about our being forestalled at any cost. 

Kathleen's just happy to be back on dry land, bless her. 

It's all rather exhausting and gives me the most dreadful indigestion. 

26 October, 1910

Our last day alone. We arrive Wellington tomorrow, then it's a short trip down to Lyttleton to join the ship. This respite has been nice, but I am anxious to get on. 

Was going to say I have to remember to get a proper haircut before we set sail, owing to the length of time since I see a real barber again, but my charming wife reminds me that not much remains to be cut. 

Always after the details, that woman.

25 October, 1910

The missus is disappointed not to have seen any penguins. I told her they mate for life, she liked that. I told her the Emperor males stand with the egg on their feet for the duration of the winter while the females go off hunting at sea. She liked that, too. How they find their spouse and egg when they return is beyond me. But they do. 

We are hoping to procure some Emperor eggs so that we can study them at the embryonic stage. They say these primitive birds are the direct descendants of the dinosaurs, which we hope to prove. We took that photograph at Cape Crozier, where we hope to make our camp. 

They do taste awful, though. 

She didn't like that.

24 October, 1910

Kathleen's a bit sea-sick. Yet another reason why women could never make good traveling companions. Imagine a ship manned entirely by women sailors! Absurd! 

She's getting a bit down in the mouth about our pending separation, but I remind her she knew I was a seaman when she met me, and that she encouraged me to pursue this expedition. 

She wants me to name some new bit of land after her, but I explained that's not how it works. It's all rather formulaic and regimented now. She says she can be named under provision A of the Second Order which states that a feature may be named after anyone whose "outstanding heroism, skill, spirit or labor has made signal contribution to the success of an expedition." She says her encouragement and sacrifice should be counted as such a contribution. Well, I wish it were so. But as it stands, the first thing I get to name on this trip will be after Teddy Evans. 

One has to do things by the book, especially when it comes to procedure. One cannot forget that one's superiors are always looking over one's shoulder. 

She mumbled from the bed "what about Queen Victoria Land, then?" but I let it go.