My skis.
There's nothing more invigorating to the system and which make you feel more like a man than going for a ski before breakfast, as I did this morning. Plus, it gives one an enormous appetite! After breakfast, we doled out ski to the landing party, because they shall need to be able to ski when we land a few short weeks hence. I am glad for this chance for Gran to teach them beforehand. I would not do to have to land all the ship's stores using ski with men who have never had their feet in them. Mind you, there's something to be said for "learning on the job," as it were.
Here's Tryggve Gran on deck with one of the dogs. Meares took two dog teams out on the ice with sledges to help get them into condition, too, as several have grown very fat. It's hard to know how this happens since all they get to eat per days is two and a half dry biscuits.
We are continually drifting north, which is trying, but at least we're not drifting east. That would be a disaster.
I've found myself using the word "trying" rather too much of late. I must try not to.
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