The Worst Journey in the World (60 page)

"Sunday, December 17. Nearly 11 miles. Temp. 12.5°. 3500 feet. We have
had an exciting day—this morning was just like the scenic railway at
Earl's Court. We got straight on to the big pressure waves, and headed
for the humpy rock at the base of the Cloudmaker. It was a hard plug up
the waves, very often standing pulls, and all that we could do for a
course was a very varied direction. Going down the other side was the
exciting part: all we could do was to set the sledge straight, hang on to
the straps, give her a little push and rush down the slope, which was
sometimes so sheer that the sledge was in the air. Sometimes there was no
chance to brake the sledge, and we all had to get on to the top, and we
rushed down with the wind whistling in our ears. After three hours of
this it levelled out again a bit, and we took the top of a wave, and ran
south along it on blue ice: enormous pressure to our right, largely I
think caused by the Keltie Glacier. Then we ascended a rise, snowy and
crevassed, and camped after doing just under five miles, with big
pressure ahead."
^[224]

"In the afternoon we had a hard surface. Scott started off at a great
speed, Teddy [Evans] and I following. There was something wrong with my
team or my sledge, as we had a desperate job to keep up at first. We did
keep up all right, but were heartily glad when after about 2½ hours Scott
stopped for a spell. I rearranged our harness, putting Cherry and myself
on the long span again, which we had temporarily discarded in the
morning. We were both winded and felt wronged. The rearrangement was a
success however, and the remainder of the march was a pleasure instead of
a desperate struggle. It finished up on fields of blue rippled ice with
sharp knife edges, and snow patches few and far between. We are all
camped on a small snow patch in the middle of a pale blue rippled sea,
about 3600 feet above sea level and past the Cloudmaker, which means
that we are half way up the Glacier."
^[225]
We had done 12½ miles
(statute).

The Beardmore Glacier is twice as large as the Malaspina in Alaska, which
was the largest known glacier until Shackleton discovered the Beardmore.
Those who knew the Ferrar Glacier professed to find the Beardmore
unattractive, but to me at any rate it was grand. Its very vastness,
however, tends to dwarf its surroundings, and great tributary glaciers
and tumbled ice-falls, which anywhere else would have aroused admiration,
were almost unnoticed in a stream which stretched in places forty miles
from bank to bank. It was only when the theodolite was levelled that we
realized how vast were the mountains which surrounded us: one of which we
reckoned to be well over twenty thousand feet in height, and many of the
others must have approached that measurement. Lieutenant Evans and Bowers
were surveying whenever the opportunity offered, whilst Wilson sat on the
sledge or on his sleeping-bag, and sketched.

Before leaving on the morning of December 18 we bagged off three
half-weekly units and made a depôt marked by a red flag on a bamboo which
was stuck into a small mound. Unfortunately it began to snow in the night
and no bearings were taken until the following morning when only the base
of the mountains on the west side was visible. We knew we might have
difficulty in picking up this depôt again, and certainly we all did.

"It was thick, with low stratus clouds in the morning, and snow was
falling in large crystals. Our socks and finnesko, hung out to dry, were
covered with most beautiful feathery crystals. In the warm weather one
gets fairly saturated with perspiration on the march, and foot-gear is
always wet, except the outside covering which is as a rule more or less
frozen according to existing temperature. On camping at night I shift to
night foot-gear as soon as ever the tent is pitched, and generally slip
on my windproof blouse, as one cools down like smoke after the exertion
of man-hauling a heavy sledge for hours. At lunch camp one's feet often
get pretty cold, but this goes off as soon as some hot tea is got into
the system. As a rule, even when snowing, one's socks, etc., will dry if
there is a bit of a breeze. They are always frozen stiff in the morning
and can best be thawed out by bundling the lot
(under one's)
jersey
during breakfast. They can then be put on tolerably warm even if wet.

"We started off on a hard rippled blue surface like a sea frozen intact
while the wind was playing on it. It soon got worse and we had to have
one and sometimes two hands back to keep the sledge from skidding. Of
course it was easy enough stuff to pull on, but the ground was very
uneven, and sledges constantly capsized. It did not improve the runners
either. There were few crevasses.

"All day we went on in dull cloudy weather with hardly any land visible,
and the glacier to be seen only for a short distance. In the afternoon
the clouds lifted somewhat and showed us the Adam Mountains. The surface
was better for the sledges but worse for us, as there were countless
cracks and small crevasses, into which we constantly trod, barking our
shins. As the afternoon sun came round the perspiration fairly streamed
down, and it was impossible to keep goggles clear. The surface was so
slippery and uneven that it was difficult to keep one's foothold. However
we did 12½ miles, and felt that we had really done a good day's work when
we camped. It was not clear enough to survey in the evening, so I took
the sledge-meter in hand and worked at it half the night to repair
Christopher's damage. I ended up by making a fixing of which I was
very proud, but did not dare to look at the time, so I don't know how
much sleep I missed.

"There is no doubt that Scott knows where to aim for in a glacier, as it
was just here that Shackleton had two or three of his worst days' work,
in such a maze of crevasses that he said that often a slip meant death
for the whole party. He avoids the sides of the glacier and goes nowhere
near the snow: he often heads straight for apparent chaos and somehow,
when we appear to have reached a cul-de-sac, we find it an open
road."
^[226]
However, we all found the trouble on our way back.

"On our right we have now a pretty good view of the Adam, Marshall and
Wild Mountains, and their very curious horizontal stratification. Wright
has found, amongst bits of wind-blown débris, an undoubted bit of
sandstone and a bit of black basalt. We must get to know more of the
geology before leaving the glacier finally."
^[227]

December 19, +7°. Total height 5800 feet. "Things are certainly looking
up, seeing that we have risen 1100 feet, and marched 17 to 18 statute
miles during the day, whereas Shackleton's last march was 13 statute. It
was still thick when we turned out at 5.45, but it soon cleared with a
fresh southerly wind, and we could see Buckley Island and the land at the
head of the glacier just rising. We started late for Birdie wanted to get
our sledge-meter dished up: it has been quite a job to-day getting it on,
but it rode well this afternoon. We started over the same crevassed
stuff, but soon got on to blue ice, and for two hours had a most pleasant
pull, and then up a steepish rise sometimes on blue ice and sometimes on
snow. After the pleasantest morning we have had, we completed 8½ miles.

"Angles and observations were taken at lunch, and quite a lot of work was
done. There is a general getting squared up with gear, for we know that
those going on will not have many more days of warm temperatures. At one
time to-day I think Scott meant trying the right hand of the island or
nunatak, but as we rose this was obviously impossible, for there is a
huge mass of pressure coming down there. From here the Dominion Range
also looks as if it were a nunatak. Some of these mountains, which don't
look very big, are huge (since the six thousand feet which we have risen
have to be added on to them), and many of them are very grand indeed. The
Mill Glacier is a vast thing, with big pressure across it. There also
seems to be a big series of ice-falls between Buckley Island and the
Dominion Range, for the centre of which Scott is going to-morrow. A
pretty hard plug this afternoon, but no disturbance, and gradually we
have left the bare ice, and are mostly travelling on
névé
. Much of the
ice is white. I have been writing down angles and times for Birdie, and
writing this in the intervals. Scott's heel is troubling him again. ['I
have bad bruises on knee and thigh'],
^[228]
and generally there has been a
run on the medical cases for chafes, and minor ailments. There is now a
keen southerly wind blowing. It gets a little colder each day, and we are
already beginning to feel it on our sunburnt faces and hands."
^[229]

Of the crevasses met in the morning Bowers wrote: "So far nobody has
dropped down the length of his harness, as I did on the Cape Crozier
journey. On this blue ice they are pretty conspicuous, and as they are
mostly snow-bridged one is well advised to step over any line of snow.
With my short legs this was strenuous work, especially as the weight of
the sledge would often stop me with a jerk just before my leading foot
quite cleared a crevasse, and the next minute one would be struggling out
so as to keep the sledge on the move. It is fatal to stop the sledge as
nobody waits for stragglers, and you have to pick up your lost ground by
strenuous hurry. Of course some one often gets so far down a hole that it
is necessary to stop and help him out."

December 20. "To-day has been a great march—over two miles an hour, and
on the whole rising a lot. Soon after starting we got on to the most
beautiful icy surface, smooth except for cracks and only patches of snow,
most of which we could avoid. We came along at a great rate.

"The most interesting thing to see was that the Mill Glacier is not, as
was supposed, a tributary, but probably is an outlet falling from this
glacier, and a great size. However it was soon covered up with dense
black cloud, and there were billows of cloud behind us and below.

"At lunch Birdie made the disastrous discovery that the registering dial
of his sledge-meter was off. A screw had shaken out on the bumpy ice,
and the clockwork had fallen off. This is serious for it means that one
of the three returning parties will have to go without, and their
navigation will be much more difficult. Birdie is very upset, especially
after all the trouble he has taken with it, and the hours which he has
sat up. After lunch he and Bill walked back near two miles in the tracks,
but could not see it. It was then getting very thick, coming over from
the north."
^[230]
"It appeared to be blizzing down the glacier, though
clear to the south. The northerly wind drove up a back-draught of snow,
and very soon fogged us completely. However we found our way back to camp
by the crampon tracks on the blue ice and then packed up to leave."
^[231]

"We started, making a course to hit the east side of the island where
there seems to be the only break in the ice-falls which stretch right
across. The weather lifted, and we are now camped with the island just to
our right, the long strata of coal showing plainly in it, and just in
front of us is this steep bit up through the falls. We have done nearly
23 statute miles to-day, pulling 160 lbs. a man.

"This evening has been rather a shock. As I was getting my finnesko on to
the top of my ski beyond the tent Scott came up to me, and said that he
was afraid he had rather a blow for me. Of course I knew what he was
going to say, but could hardly grasp that I was going back—to-morrow
night. The returning party is to be Atch, Silas, Keohane and self.

"Scott was very put about, said he had been thinking a lot about it but
had come to the conclusion that the seamen with their special knowledge,
would be needed: to rebuild the sledge, I suppose. Wilson told me it was
a toss-up whether Titus or I should go on: that being so I think Titus
will help him more than I can. I said all I could think of—he seemed so
cut up about it, saying 'I think, somehow, it is specially hard on you.'
I said I hoped I had not disappointed him, and he caught hold of me and
said 'No—no—No,' so if that is the case all is well. He told me that at
the bottom of the glacier he was hardly expecting to go on himself: I
don't know what the trouble is, but his foot is troubling him, and also,
I think, indigestion."
^[232]

Scott just says in his diary, "I dreaded this necessity of
choosing—nothing could be more heartrending." And then he goes on to sum
up the situation, "I calculated our programme to start from 85° 10' with
12 units of food and eight men. We ought to be in this position to-morrow
night, less one day's food. After all our harassing trouble one cannot
but be satisfied with such a prospect."
^[233]

December 21. Upper Glacier Depôt. "Started off with a nippy S.Wly. wind
in our faces, but bright sunshine. One's nose and lips being chapped and
much skinned with alternate heat and cold, a breeze in the face is
absolute agony until you warm up. This does not take long, however, when
pulling a sledge, so after the first quarter of an hour more or less one
is comfortable unless the wind is very strong.

"We made towards the only place where it seemed possible to cross the
mass of pressure ice caused by the junction of the plateau with the
glacier, and congested between the nunatak
(Buckley Island)
and the
Dominion Range. Scott had considered at one time going up to westward of
the nunatak, but this appeared more chaotic than the other side. We made
for a slope close to the end of the island or nunatak, where Shackleton
must have got up also; it is obviously the only place when you look at it
from a commanding rise. We did not go quite so close to the land as
Shackleton did, and therefore, as had been the case with us all the way
up the glacier, found less difficulties than he met with. Scott is quite
wonderful in his selections of route, as we have escaped excessive
dangers and difficulties all along. In this case we had fairly good
going, but got into a perfect mass of crevasses into which we all
continually fell; mostly one foot, but often two, and occasionally we
went down altogether, some to the length of their harness to be hauled
out with the Alpine rope. Most of them could be seen by the strip of snow
on the blue ice. They were often too wide to jump though, and the only
thing was to plant your feet on the bridge and try not to tread heavily.
As a rule the centre of a bridged crevasse is the safest place, the
rotten places are at the edges. We had to go over dozens by hopping right
on to the bridge and then over on to the ice. It is a bit of a jar when
it gives way under you, but the friendly harness is made to trust one's
life to. The Lord only knows how deep these vast chasms go down, they
seem to extend into blue black nothingness thousands of feet below.