The Worst Journey in the World (68 page)

5. That Scott had given particular instructions that the
dogs were not to be risked in view of the sledging plans
for next season.

Since it had proved impossible to take the depôt of dog-food, together
with the full Polar Party rations, to One Ton before this; considering
the unforeseen circumstances which had arisen; and seeing that this
journey of the dog-teams was not indispensable, being simply meant to
bring the last party home more speedily, I do not believe that better
instructions could have been given than these of Atkinson.

I was eager to start as soon as the team which had come back from Cape
Evans was rested, but a blizzard prevented this. On the morning of the
25th it was thick as a hedge, but it cleared enough to pack sledges in
the afternoon, and when we turned into our bags we could see Observation
Hill. We started at 2 A.M. that night.

I confess I had my misgivings. I had never driven one dog, let alone a
team of them; I knew nothing of navigation; and One Ton was a hundred and
thirty miles away, out in the middle of the Barrier and away from
landmarks. And so as we pushed our way out through the wind and drift
that night I felt there was a good deal to be hoped for, rather than to
be expected. But we got along very well, Dimitri driving his team in
front, as he did most of this journey, and picking up marks very
helpfully with his sharp eyes. In the low temperatures we met, the
glasses which I must wear are almost impossible, because of fogging. We
took three boxes of dog-biscuit from Safety Camp and another three boxes
from a point sixteen miles from Hut Point. Here we rested the dogs for a
few hours, and started again at 6 P.M. All day the light was appalling,
and the wind strong, but to my great relief we found Corner Camp after
four hours' more travelling, the flag showing plainly, though the cairn
itself was invisible when a hundred yards away. This was the last place
where there was any dog-food on the route, and the dogs got a good feed
after doing thirty-four miles (statute) for the day's run. This was more
than we had hoped: the only disquieting fact was that both the
sledge-meters which we had were working wrong: the better of the two
seemed however to be marking the total mileage fairly correctly at
present, though the hands which indicated more detailed information were
quite at sea. We had no minimum thermometer, but the present temperature
was -4°.

"
February 27.
Mount Terror has proved our friend to-day, for the slope
just above the Knoll has remained clear when everything else was covered,
and we have steered by that—behind us. It seemed, when we started in low
drift, that we should pick up nothing, but by good luck, or good I don't
know what, we have got everything: first the motor, then pony walls at 10
miles, where we stopped and had a cup of tea. I wanted to do 15 miles,
but we have done 18½ miles on the best running surface I have ever seen.
After lunch we got a cairn which we could not see twenty yards away after
we had reached it, but which we could see for a long way on the southern
horizon, against a thin strip of blue sky. We camped just in time to get
the tent pitched before a line of drift we saw coming out of the sky hit
us. It is now blowing a mild blizzard and drifting. Forty-eight miles in
two days is more than I expected: may our luck continue. Dogs pulling
very fit and not done up.

"
February 28.
I had my first upset just after starting, the sledge
capsizing on a great sastrugus like the Ramp. Dimitri was a long way
ahead and all behind was very thick. I had to unload the sledge for I
could not right it alone. Just as I righted it the team took charge. I
missed the driving-stick but got on to the sledge with no hope of
stopping them, and I was carried a mile to the south, leaving four boxes
of dog-food, the weekly bag, cooker, and tent poles on the ground. The
team stopped when they reached Dimitri's team, and by then the gear was
out of sight. We went back for it, and made good 16¾ miles for the day on
a splendid surface. The sun went down at 11.15 (10.15 A.T.), miraged
quite flat on top. After he had gone down a great bonfire seemed to blaze
out from the horizon. Now -22° and we use a candle for the first time.

"
February 29. Bluff Depôt.
If anybody had told me we could reach Bluff
Depôt, nearly ninety miles, in four days, I would not have believed it.
We have had a good clear day with much mirage. Dogs a bit tired."
^[247]

The next three days' run took us to One Ton. On the day we left Bluff
Depôt, which had been made a little more than a year ago, when certain of
the ponies were sent home on the Depôt Journey, but which no longer
contained any provisions, we travelled 12 miles; there was a good light
and it was as warm as could be expected in March. The next day (March 2)
we did 9 miles after a cold and sleepless night, -24° and a mild blizzard
from N.W. and quite thick. On the night of March 3 we reached One Ton,
heading into a strongish wind with a temperature of -24°. These were the
first two days on which we had cold weather, but it was nothing to worry
about for us, and was certainly not colder than one could ordinarily have
expected at this time of year.

Arrived at One Ton my first feeling was one of relief that the Polar
Party had not been to the Depôt and that therefore we had got their
provisions out in time. The question of what we were to do in the
immediate future was settled for us; for four days out of the six during
which we were at One Ton the weather made travelling southwards, that is
against the wind, either entirely impossible or such that the chance of
seeing another party at any distance was nil. On the two remaining days I
could have run a day farther South and back again, with the possibility
of missing the party on the way. I decided to remain at the Depôt where
we were certain to meet.

On the day after we arrived at One Ton (March 4) Dimitri came to me and
said that the dogs ought to be given more food, since they were getting
done and were losing their coats: they had, of course, done a great deal
of sledging already this year. Dimitri had long experience of dog-driving
and I had none. I thought and I still think he was right. I increased the
dog ration therefore, and this left us with thirteen more days' dog-food,
including that for March 4.

The weather was bad when we were at One Ton, for when it was blowing the
temperature often remained comparatively low, and when it was not blowing
it dropped considerably, and I find readings in my diary of -34° and -37°
at 8 P.M. Having no minimum thermometer we did not know the night
temperatures. On the other hand I find an entry: "To-day is the first
real good one we have had, only about -10° and the sun shining,—and we
have shifted the tent, dried our bags and gear a lot, and been pottering
about all day." At this time, however, when we were at One Ton I looked
upon these conditions as being a temporary cold snap: there was no reason
then to suppose these were normal March conditions in the middle of the
Barrier, where no one had ever been at this time of year. I believe now
they are normal: on the other hand, in our meteorological report Simpson
argues that they were abnormal for the Barrier at this time of year.
^[248]

Since there was no depôt of dog-food at One Ton it was not possible to go
farther South (except for the one day mentioned above) without killing
dogs. My orders on this point were perfectly explicit; I saw no reason
for disobeying them, and indeed it appeared that we had been wrong to
hurry out so soon, before the time that Scott had reckoned that he would
return, and that the Polar Party would really come in at the time Scott
had calculated before starting rather than at the time we had reckoned
from the data brought back by the Last Return Party.

From the particulars already given it will be seen that I had no reason
to suspect that the Polar Party could be in want of food. The Polar Party
of five men had according to our rations plenty of food either on their
sledge or in the depôts. In addition they had a lot of pony meat depôted
at Middle Glacier Depôt and onwards from there. Though we did not know
it, the death of Evans at the foot of the Beardmore Glacier provided an
additional amount of food for the four men who were then left. The full
amount of oil for this food had been left in the depôts; but we know now
what we did not know then, that some of it had evaporated. These matters
are discussed in greater detail in the account of the return of the Polar
Party and after.

Thus I felt little anxiety for the Polar Party. But I was getting anxious
about my companion. Soon after arrival at One Ton it was clear that
Dimitri was feeling the cold. He complained of his head; then his right
arm and side were affected; and from this time onwards he found that he
could do less and less with his right side. Still I did not worry much
about it, and my decision as to our movements was not affected by this
complication. I decided to allow eight days' food for our return, which
meant that we must start on March 10.

"
March 10.
Pretty cold night: -33° when we turned out at 8 A.M.
Getting our gear together, and the dogs more or less into order after
their six days was cold work, and we started in minus thirties and a head
wind. The dogs were mad,—stark, staring lunatics. Dimitri's team wrecked
my sledge-meter, and I left it lying on the ground a mile from One Ton.
All we could do was to hang on to the sledge and let them go: there
wasn't a chance to go back, turn them or steer them. Dimitri broke his
driving-stick: my team fought as they went: once I was dragged with my
foot pinned under my driving-stick, which was itself jammed in the
grummet: several times I only managed to catch on anywhere: this went on
for six or seven miles, and then they got better."
^[249]

Our remaining sledge-meter was quite unreliable, but following our
outward tracks (for it became thick and overcast), and judging by our old
camping sites, we reckoned that we had done an excellent run of 23 to 24
miles (statute) for the day. The temperature when we camped was only
-14°. However it became much colder in the night, and when we turned out
it was so thick that I decided we must wait. At 2 P.M. on March 11 there
was one small patch of blue sky showing, and we started to steer by this:
soon it was blowing a mild blizzard, and we stopped after doing what I
reckoned was eight miles, steering by trying to keep the wind on my ear:
but I think we were turning circles much of the time. It blew hard and
was very cold during the night, and we turned out on the morning of March
12 to a blizzard with a temperature of -33°: this gradually took off, and
at 10 A.M. Dimitri said he could see the Bluff, and we were right into
the land, and therefore the pressure. This was startling, but later it
cleared enough to reassure me, though Dimitri was so certain that during
the first part of our run that day I steered east a lot. We did 25 to 30
miles this day in drift and a temperature of -28°.

By now I was becoming really alarmed and anxious about Dimitri, who
seemed to be getting much worse, and to be able to do less and less.
Sitting on a sledge the next day with a head wind and the temperature
-30° was cold. The land was clear when we turned out and I could see that
we must be far outside our course, but almost immediately it became
foggy. We made in towards the land a good deal, and made a good run, but
owing to the sledge-meter being useless and the bad weather generally
during the last few days, I had a very hazy idea indeed where we were
when we camped, having been steering for some time by the faint gleam of
the sun through the mist. Just after camping Dimitri suddenly pointed to
a black spot which seemed to wave to and fro: we decided that it was the
flag of the derelict motor near Corner Camp which up to that time I
thought was ten to fifteen miles away: this was a great relief, and we
debated packing up again and going to it, but decided to stay where we
were.

It was fairly clear on the morning of March 14, which was lucky, for it
was now obvious that we were miles from Corner Camp and much too near the
land. The flag we had seen must have been a miraged piece of pressure,
and it was providential that we had not made for it, and found worse
trouble than we actually experienced. Try all I could that morning, my
team, which was leading, insisted on edging westwards. At last I saw what
I thought was a cairn, but found out just in time that it was a haycock
or mound of ice formed by pressure: by its side was a large open
crevasse, of which about fifty yards of snow-bridge had fallen in. For
several miles we knew that we were crossing big crevasses by the hollow
sound, and it was with considerable relief that I sighted the motor and
then Corner Camp some two or three miles to the east of us. "Dimitri had
left his Alpine rope there, and also I should have liked to have brought
in Evans' sledge, but it would have meant about five miles extra, and I
left it. I hope Scott, finding no note, will not think we are lost."
^[250]

Dimitri seemed to be getting worse, and we pushed on until we camped that
night only fifteen miles from Hut Point. My main anxiety was whether the
sea-ice between us and Hut Point was in, because I felt that the job of
getting the teams up on to the Peninsula and along it and down the other
side would be almost more than we could do: there was an ominous
open-water sky ahead.

On March 15 we were held up all day by a strong blizzard. But by 8 A.M.
the next morning we could see just the outline of White Island. I was
very anxious, for Dimitri said that he had nearly fainted, and I felt
that we must get on somehow, and chance the sea-ice being in. He stayed
inside the tent as long as possible, and my spirits rose as the land
began to clear all round while I was packing up both sledges. From Safety
Camp the mirage at the edge of the Barrier was alarming, but as we
approached the edge to my very great relief I found that the sea-ice was
still in, and that what we had taken for frost smoke was only drift over
Cape Armitage.