The Worst Journey in the World (35 page)

A sizzling on the fire and a smell of porridge and fried seal liver
heralded breakfast, which was at 8 A.M. in theory and a good deal later
in practice. A sleepy eye might see the meteorologist stumping out
(Simpson always stumped) to change the records in his magnetic cave and
visit his instruments on the Hill. Twenty minutes later he would be back,
as often as not covered with drift and his wind helmet all iced up.
Meanwhile, the more hardy ones were washing: that is, they rubbed
themselves, all shivering, with snow, of a minus temperature, and
pretended they liked it. Perhaps they were right, but we told them it was
swank. I'm not sure that it wasn't! It should be explained that water
was seldom possible in a land where ice is more abundant than coal.

One great danger threatened all our meals in this hut, namely that of a
Cag. A Cag is an argument, sometimes well informed and always heated,
upon any subject under the sun, or temporarily in our case, the moon.
They ranged from the Pole to the Equator, from the Barrier to Portsmouth
Hard and Plymouth Hoe. They began on the smallest of excuses, they
continued through the widest field, they never ended; they were left in
mid air, perhaps to be caught up again and twisted and tortured months
after. What caused the cones on the Ramp; the formation of ice crystals;
the names and order of the public-houses if you left the Main Gate of
Portsmouth Dockyard and walked to the Unicorn Gate (if you ever reached
so far); the best kinds of crampons in the Antarctic, and the best place
in London for oysters; the ideal pony rug; would the wine steward at the
Ritz look surprised if you asked him for a pint of bitter? Though the
Times Atlas does not rise to public-houses nor Chambers's Encyclopaedia
sink to behaviour at our more expensive hotels, yet they settled more of
these disputes than anything else.

On the day we are discussing, though mutterings can still be heard from
Nelson's cubicle, the long table has been cleared and every one is busy
by 9.30. From now until supper at 7 work is done by all in some form or
other, except for a short luncheon interval. I do not mean for a minute
that we all sit down, as a man may do in an office at home, and solidly
grind away for upwards of nine hours or more. Not a bit of it. We have
much work out of doors, and exercise is a consideration of the utmost
importance. But when we go out, each individual quite naturally takes the
opportunity to carry out such work as concerns him, whether it deals with
ice or rocks, dogs or horses, meteorology or biology, tide-gauges or
balloons.

When blizzards allowed, the ponies were exercised by their respective
leaders between breakfast and mid-day, when they were fed. This
exercising of animals might be a pleasant business, on the other hand it
could be the deuce and all: it depended on the pony and the weather. A
blubber fire was kept burning in the snug stable, which was built against
the lee wall of the hut: the ponies were, therefore, quite warm, and
found it chilly directly they were led outside, even if there was no
wind.

The difficulties of exercising them in the dark were so great that with
the best intentions in the world it was difficult to give them sufficient
work for the good feeding they received. Add to this the fact that one at
any rate of these variable animals was really savage, and that most of
them were keen to break away if possible, and the hour of exercise was
not without its thrills even on the calmest and most moonlight days. The
worst days were those when it was difficult to say whether the ponies
should be taken out on the sea-ice or not. It was thick weather that was
to be feared, for then, if the leader once lost his bearings, it was most
difficult for him to return. An overcast sky, light falling snow, perhaps
a light northerly wind generally meant a blizzard, but the blizzard might
not break for twenty-four hours, it might be upon you in four seconds. It
was difficult to say whether the pony should miss his exercise, whether
the fish trap should be raised, whether to put off your intended trip to
Cape Royds. Generally the risks were taken, for, on the whole, it is
better to be a little over-bold than a little over-cautious, while always
there was a something inside urging you to do it just because there was a
certain risk, and you hardly liked not to do it. It is so easy to be
afraid of being afraid!

Let me give one instance: it must be typical of many. It was thick as it
could be, no moon, no stars, light falling snow, and not even a light
breeze to keep in your face to give direction. Bowers and I decided to
take our ponies out, and once over the tide crack, where the working
sea-ice joins the fast land-ice, we kept close under the tall cliffs of
the Barne Glacier. So far all was well, and also when we struck along a
small crack into the middle of the bay, where there was a thermometer
screen. This we read with some difficulty by the light of a match and
started back towards the hut. In about a quarter of an hour we knew we
were quite lost until an iceberg which we recognized showed us that we
had been walking at right angles to our course, and got us safe home.

On a clear crisp day, with the full moon to show you the ridges and
cracks and sastrugi, it was most pleasant to put on your ski and wander
forth with no object but that of healthy pleasure. Perhaps you would make
your way round the bluff end of the cape and strike southwards. Here you
may visit Nelson working with his thermometers and current meters and
other instruments over a circular hole in the ice, which he keeps open
from day to day by breaking out the 'biscuit' of newly formed ice. He has
connected himself with the hut by telephone, and built round himself an
igloo of drifted snow and the aforesaid 'biscuits,' which effectually
shelter him from the wind. Or you may meet Meares and Dimitri returning
with the dog-teams from a visit to Hut Point. A little farther on the
silence is complete. But now your ear catches the metallic scratch of ski
sticks on hard ice; there is some one else ski-ing over there, it may be
many miles away, for sound travels in an amazing way. Every now and then
there comes a sharp crack like a pistol shot; it is the ice contracting
in the glaciers of Erebus, and you know that it is getting colder. Your
breath smokes, forming white rime over your face, and ice in your beard;
if it is very cold you may actually hear it crackle as it freezes in mid
air!

These were the days which remain visibly in the mind as the most
enjoyable during this first winter season. It was all so novel, these
much-dreaded, and amongst us much-derided, terrors of the Long Winter
Night. The atmosphere is very clear when it is not filled with snow or
ice crystals, and the moonlight lay upon the land so that we could see
the main outlines of the Hut Point Peninsula, and even Minna Bluff out on
the Barrier ninety miles away. The ice-cliffs of Erebus showed as great
dark walls, but above them the blue ice of the glaciers gleamed silvery,
and the steam flowed lazily from the crater carried away in a long line,
showing us that the northerly breezes prevailed up there, and were
storing up trouble in the south. Sometimes a shooting star would seem to
fall right into the mountain, and for the most part the Aurora flitted
uneasily about in the sky.

The importance of plenty of out-door exercise was generally recognized,
and our experience showed us that the happiest and healthiest members of
our party during this first year were those who spent the longest period
in the fresh air. As a rule we walked and worked and ski-ed alone, not I
feel sure because of any individual distaste for the company of our
fellows but rather because of a general inclination to spend a short
period of the day without company. At least this is certainly true of the
officers: I am not so sure about the men. Under the circumstances, the
only time in the year that a man could be alone was in his walks abroad
from Winter Quarters, for the hut, of course, was always occupied, and
when sledging this sardine-like existence was continuous night and day.

There was one regular exception to this rule. Every possible evening,
that is to say if it was not blowing a full blizzard, Wilson and Bowers
went up the Ramp together 'to read Bertram.' Now this phrase will convey
little meaning without some explanation. I have already spoken of the
Ramp as the steep rubbly slope partly covered by snow and partly by ice
which divided the cape on which we lived from the glaciated slopes of
Erebus. After a breathless scramble up this embankment one came upon a
belt of rough boulder-strewn ground from which arose at intervals conical
mounds, the origin of which puzzled us for many months. At length, by the
obvious means of cutting a section through one of them, it was proved
that there was a solid kenyte lava block in the centre of this cone,
proving that the whole was formed by the weathering of a single rock.
Threading your way for some hundreds of yards through this terrain, a
scramble attended by many slips and falls on a dark night, you reached
the first signs of glaciation. A little farther, isolated in the ice
stream, is another group of debris cones, and on the largest of these we
placed meteorological Screen "B," commonly called Bertram. This screen,
together with "A" (Algernon) and "C" (Clarence), which were in North and
South Bays respectively, were erected by Bowers, who thought, rightly,
that they would form an object to which men could guide their walks, and
that at the same time the observations of maximum, minimum and present
temperatures would be a useful check to the meteorologist when he came to
compare them with those taken at the hut. As a matter of fact the book in
which we used to enter these observations shows that the air temperatures
out on the sea-ice vary considerably from those on the cape, and that the
temperatures several hundred feet up on the slopes of Erebus are often
several degrees higher than those taken at sea-level. I believe that much
of the weather in this part of the world is an intensely local affair,
and these screens produced useful data.

Wilson and Bowers would go up the Ramp when it was blowing and drifting
fairly hard, so that although the rocks and landmarks immediately round
them were visible, all beyond was blotted out. It is quite possible to
walk thus among landmarks which you know at a time when it is most unwise
to go out on to the sea-ice where there are no fixed points to act as a
guide.

It was Wilson's pleasant conceit to keep his balaclava rolled up, so that
his face was bare, on such occasions, being somewhat proud of the fact
that he had not, as yet, been frost-bitten. Imagine our joy when he
entered the hut one cold windy evening with two white spots on his cheeks
which he vainly tried to hide behind his dogskin mitts.

The ponies' lunch came at mid-day, when they were given snow to drink and
compressed fodder with oats or oil-cake on alternate days to eat, the
proportion of which was arranged according to the work they were able to
do in the present, or expected to do in the future. Our own lunch was
soon after one, and a few minutes before that time Hooper's voice would
be heard: "Table please, Mr. Debenham," and all writing materials,
charts, instruments and books would have to be removed. On Sunday, this
table displayed a dark blue cloth, but for meals and at all other times
it was covered with white oilcloth.

Lunch itself was a pleasant meatless meal, consisting of limited bread
and butter with plenty of jam or cheese, tea or cocoa, the latter being
undoubtedly a most useful drink in a cold country. Many controversies
raged over the rival merits of tea and cocoa. Some of us made for
ourselves buttered toast at the galley fire; I must myself confess to a
weakness for Welsh Rarebit, and others followed my example on cheese days
in making messes of which we were not a little proud. Scott sat at the
head of the table, that is at the east end, but otherwise we all took our
places haphazard from meal to meal as our conversation, or want of it,
merited, or as our arrival found a vacant chair. Thus if you felt
talkative you might always find a listener in Debenham; if inclined to
listen yourself it was only necessary to sit near Taylor or Nelson; if,
on the other hand, you just wanted to be quiet, Atkinson or Oates would,
probably, give you a congenial atmosphere.

There was never any want of conversation, largely due to the fact that no
conversation was expected: we most of us know the horrible blankness
which comes over our minds when we realize that because we are eating we
are also supposed to talk, whether we have anything to say or not. It was
also due to the more primitive reason that in a company of specialists,
whose travels extended over most parts of the earth, and whose subjects
overlapped and interlocked at so many points, topics of conversation were
not only numerous but full of possibilities of expansion. Add to this
that from the nature of our work we were probably people of an
inquisitive turn of mind and wanted to get to the bottom of the subjects
which presented themselves, and you may expect to find, as was in fact
the case, an atmosphere of pleasant and quite interesting conversation
which sometimes degenerated into heated and noisy argument.

The business of eating over, pipes were lit without further formality. I
mention pipes only because while we had a most bountiful supply of
tobacco, the kindly present of Mr. Wills, our supply of cigarettes from
the same source was purposely limited and only a small quantity were
landed, allowing of a ration to such members who wished. Consequently
cigarettes were an article of some value, and in a land where the
ordinary forms of currency are valueless they became a frequent stake to
venture when making bets. Indeed, "I bet you ten cigarettes," or "I bet
you a dinner when we get back to London," became the most frequent bids
of the argumentative gambler, occasionally varied when the bettor was
more than usually certain of the issue by the offer of a pair of socks.