The Worst Journey in the World (76 page)

There is a note here from Wright about the mules, which left here last
night. They only saw two small crevasses on the way, but Khan Sahib got
into the tide-crack at the edge of the Barrier, and had to be hauled out
with a rope. The mules are going fast over the first part of the day, but
show a tendency to stop towards the end: they keep well together except
Khan Sahib, who is a slower mule than the others. It is now blowing with
some drift, but nothing bad, and beyond the Bluff it seems to be clear.
We are all pretty tired.

November 4. Early morning.
Well! this has been a disappointing day, but
we must hope that all will turn out well. We turned out at 2 A.M.
yesterday and then it was clearing all round, a mild blizzard having been
blowing since we camped. We started at five in some wind and low drift.
It was good travelling weather, and except for the first three miles the
surface has been fair to good, and the last part very good. Yet the dogs
could not manage their load, which according to programme should go up a
further 150 lbs. each team here at Dimitri Depôt. One of our dogs, Kusoi,
gave out, but we managed to get him along tied to the stern of the
sledge, because the team behind tried to get at him and he realized he
had better mend his ways. We camped for lunch when Tresor also was pretty
well done. We were then on a very good surface, but were often pushing
the sledge to get it along. The mule party were gone when we started
again, and probably did not see us. We came on to the depôt, but we
cannot hope to get along far on bad surfaces if we cannot get along on
good ones. The note left by Wright states that their sledge-meter has
proved useless, and this leaves all three parties of us with only one,
which is not very reliable now.

So it has been decided that the dogs must return from 80° 30', or 81° at
the farthest, and instead of four mules, as was intended, going on from
there, five must go on instead. The dogs can therefore now leave behind
much of their own weights and take on the mules' weights instead. And
this is the part where the mules' weights are so heavy. Perhaps the new
scheme is the best, but it puts everything on the mules from 80° 30': if
they will do it all is well: if they won't we have nothing to fall back
on.

Midnight, November 4-5.
It has been blowing and drifting all day. We
turned out again at mid-day on the 4th, and re-made the depôt with what
we were to leave owing to the new programme. This is all rather sad, but
it can't be helped. It was then blowing a summer blizzard, and we were
getting frost-bitten when we started, following the mule tracks. There
were plenty of cairns for us to pick up, and with the lighter loads and a
very good surface we came along much better. Lunching at eight miles we
arrived just as the mule party had finished their hoosh preparatory to
starting, and it has been decided that the mules are not to go on
to-night, but we will all start marching together to-morrow.

The news from this party is on the whole good, not the least good being
that the sledge-meter is working again, though not very reliably. They
are marching well, and at a great pace, except for Khan Sahib. Gulab,
however, is terribly chafed both by his collar and by his breast harness,
both of which have been tried. He has a great raw place where this fits
on one side, and is chafed, but not so badly, on the other side. Lal Khan
is pulling well, but is eating very little. Pyaree is doing very well,
but has some difficulty in lifting her leg when in soft snow. Abdullah
seems to be considered the best mule at present. On the whole good
hearing.

Wright's sleeping-bag is bad, letting in light through cracks in a good
many places. But he makes very little of it and does not seem to be
cold—saying it is good ventilation. The mule cloths, which have a rough
lining to their outside canvas, are collecting a lot of snow, and all the
mules are matted with cakes of snow. They are terrible rope-eaters,
cloth-eaters, anything to eat, though they are not hungry. And they have
even learnt to pull their picketing buckles undone, and go walking about
the camp. Indeed Nelson says that the only time when Khan Sahib does not
cast himself adrift is when he is ready to start on the march.

November 6. Early morning.
We had a really good lie-in yesterday, and
after the hard slogging with the dogs during the last few days I for one
was very glad of it. We came on behind, and in sight of the mules this
last march, and the change in the dogs was wonderful. Where it had been a
job to urge them on over quite as good a surface yesterday, to-day for
some time we could not get off the sledge except for short runs: although
we had taken 312 lbs. weight off the mules and loaded it on to the dogs.

We had a most glorious night for marching, and it is now bright sunlight,
and the animals' fur is quite warm where the sun strikes it. We have just
had a bit of a fight over the dog-food, Vaida going for Dyk, and now the
others are somewhat excited, and there are constant growlings and
murmurings.

The camp makes more of a mark than last year, for the mules are dark
while the ponies were white or grey, and the cloths are brown instead of
light green. The consequence is that the camp shows up from a long
distance off. We are building cairns at regular distances, and there
should be no difficulty in keeping on the course in fair weather at any
rate. Now in the land of big sastrugi: Erebus is beginning to look small,
but we could see an unusually big smoke from the crater all day.

November 7. Early morning.
Not an easy day. It was -9° and overcast
when we turned out, and the wind was then dying down, but it had been
blowing up to force 5, with surface drift during the day. We started in a
bad light and the surface, which was the usual hard surface common here,
with big sastrugi, was covered by a thin layer of crystals which were
then falling. This naturally made it very much harder pulling: we with
the dogs have been running nearly all the twelve miles, and I for one am
tired. At lunch Atkinson thought he saw a tent away to our right,—the
very thought of it came as a shock,—but it proved to be a false alarm.
We have been keeping a sharp look-out for the gear which was left about
this part by the Last Return Party, but have seen no sign of it.

It is now -14°, but the sun is shining brightly in a clear sky, and it
feels beautifully warm. It seems a very regular thing for the sky to
cloud over as the sun gets low towards nightfall—and directly the sun
begins to rise again the clouds disappear in a most wonderful way.

November 8. Early morning.
Last night's twelve miles was quite cold for
the time of year, being -23° at lunch and now -18°. But it is calm, with
bright sun, and this temperature feels warm. However, there are some
frost-bites as a result, both Nelson and Hooper having swollen faces. The
same powder and crystals have been on the surface, but we have carried
the good Bluff surface so far, being now four miles beyond Bluff Depôt.
This is fortunate, and to the best of my recollection we were already
getting on to a soft surface at this point last summer. If so there must
have been more wind here this year than last, which, according to the
winter we have had, seems probable.

We made up the Bluff Depôt after lunch, putting up a new flag and
building up the cairn, leaving two cases of dog-biscuit for the returning
dog-teams. It is curious that the drift to leeward of the cairn, that is
N.N.E., was quite soft, the snow all round and the drifts on either side
being hard—exceptionally hard in fact. Why this drift should remain soft
when a drift in the same place is usually hard is difficult to explain.
All is happy in the mule camp. They have given Lal a drink of water and
he has started to eat, which is good news. Some of the mules seem
snow-blind, and they are now all wearing their blinkers. I have just
heard that Gran swung the thermometer at four this morning and found it
-29°. Nelson's face is a sight—his nose a mere swollen lump,
frost-bitten cheeks, and his goggles have frosted him where the rims
touched his face. Poor Marie!

November 9. Early morning.
Twelve more miles to the good, and we must
consider ourselves fortunate in still carrying on the same good surface,
which is almost if not quite as good as that of yesterday. This is the
only time I have ever seen a hard surface here, not more than fifteen
miles from One Ton, and it looks as if there had been much higher winds.
The sastrugi, which have been facing S.W., are now beginning to run a
little more westerly. I believe this to be quite a different wind
circulation from Ross Island, which as a whole gets its wind from the
Bluff. The Bluff is, I believe, the dividing line, though big general
blizzards sweep over the whole, irrespective of local areas of
circulation. This was amply corroborated by our journey out here last
autumn. Well, this is better than then—just round here we had a full
blizzard and -33°.

November 10. Early morning.
A perfect night for marching, but about
-20° and chilly for waiting about. The mules are going well, but Lal Khan
is thinning down a lot: Abdullah and Khan Sahib are also off their feed.
Their original allowance of 11 lbs. oats and oilcake has been reduced to
9 lbs., and they are not eating this. The dogs took another 300 lbs. off
them to-day, and pulled it very well. The surface has been splendidly
hard, which is most surprising. Wright does not think that there has been
an abnormal deposition of snow the last winter; he says it is about 1½
feet, which is much the same as last year. The mules are generally not
sinking in more than two inches, but in places, especially latterly, they
have been in five, or six. This is the first we have had this year of
crusts, and some of them to-day have been exceptionally big: two at lunch
must have lasted several seconds. The dogs seem to think the devil is
after them when one of these goes off, and put on a terrific spurt. It is
interesting to watch them snuffing in the hoof-marks of the mules, where
there is evidently some scent left. In these temperatures they are always
kicking their legs about at the halts. As the sun gained power this
morning a thick fog came up very suddenly. I believe this is a sign of
good weather.

November 11. Early morning. One Ton Depôt.
Wright got a latitude sight
yesterday putting us six miles from One Ton, and our sledge-meter shows
5¾, and here we are. More frost-bite this morning, and it was pretty cold
starting in a fair wind and -7° temperature. We have continued this
really splendid surface, and now the sastrugi are pointing a little more
to the south of S.W. While there are not such big mounds, the surface
does not yet show any signs of getting bad. There were the most beautiful
cloud-effects as we came along—a deep black to the west, shading into
long lines of grey and lemon yellow round the sun, with a vertical shaft
through them, and a bright orange horizon. Now there is a brilliant
parhelion. Given sun, two days here are never alike. Whatever the
monotony of the Barrier may be, there is endless variety in the sky, and
I do not believe that anywhere in the world such beautiful colours are to
be seen.

I had a fair panic as we came up to the depôt. I did not see that one
body of the ponies had gone ahead of the others and camped, but ahead of
the travelling ponies was the depôt, looking very black, and I thought
that there was a tent. It would be too terrible to find that, though one
knew that we had done all that we could, if we had done something
different we could have saved them.

And then we find that the provisions we left here for them in the tank
are soaked with paraffin. How this has happened is a mystery, but I think
that the oil in the XS tin, which was very full, must have forced its way
out in a sudden rise of temperature in a winter blizzard, and though the
tin was not touching the tank, it has found its way in.

Altogether things seemed rather dismal, but a visit to the mules is
cheering, for they seem very fit as a whole and their leaders are
cheerful. There are three sacks of oats here—had we known it would have
saved a lot of weight—but we didn't, and we have plenty with what we
have brought, so they will be of little use to us. There is no compressed
fodder, which would have been very useful, for the animals which are
refusing the oats would probably eat it.

Gulab has a very bad chafe, but he is otherwise fit—and it does not seem
possible in this life to kill a mule because of chafing. It is a great
deal to know that he does not seem to be hurt by it, and pulls away
gallantly. Crean says he had to run a mile this morning with Rani. Marie
says he is inventing some new ways of walking, one step forward and one
hop back, in order to keep warm when leading Khan Sahib. Up to date we
cannot say that the Fates have been unkind to us.

November 12. Early morning. Lunch
2.30 A.M. I am afraid our
sledge-meters do not agree over this morning's march. The programme is to
do thirteen miles a day if possible from here: that is 7½ before lunch
and 5½ afterwards. We could see two cairns of last year on our right as
we came along. We have got on to a softer surface now and there is bad
news of Lal Khan, and it will depend on this after-lunch march whether he
must be shot this evening or not. It was intended to shoot a mule two
marches from One Ton, but till just lately it had not been thought that
it must be Lal Khan. He is getting very slow, and came into camp with
Khan Sahib: the trouble of course is that he will not eat: he has hardly
eaten, they say, a day's ration since he left Hut Point, and he can't
work on nothing. It is now -16°, with a slight southerly wind.

Nearly mid-day. 11-12 miles south of One Ton.
We have found them—to
say it has been a ghastly day cannot express it—it is too bad for words.
The tent was there, about half-a-mile to the west of our course, and
close to a drifted-up cairn of last year. It was covered with snow and
looked just like a cairn, only an extra gathering of snow showing where
the ventilator was, and so we found the door.