CHAPTER XX
THE WESTERN BASE--WINTER AND SPRING
On Easter Sunday, April 7, 1912, a furious blizzard kept
us close prisoners. To meet the occasion, Dovers prepared a special dinner,
the principal item being roast mutton, from one of the six carcases landed
with the stores. Divine service was held in the forenoon.
The blizzard raged with such force all Sunday and Monday that I dared not
let any one go out to feed the dogs, although we found, later, that a fast
of three days did not hurt them at all.
I now thought it time to establish a winter routine. Each member had his
particular duties to perform, in addition to general work, in which all
hands were engaged. Harrisson took charge of the lamps and checked consumption
of oil. Hoadley had the care of the provisions, making out lists showing
the amount the cook might use of each article of food, besides opening cases
and stowing a good assortment on convenient shelves in the veranda. Jones
and Kennedy worked the acetylene plant. In connexion with this, I should
mention that several parts were missing, including T-pieces for joints and
connexions for burners. However Jones, in addition to his ability as a surgeon,
showed himself to be an excellent plumber, brazier and tinsmith, and the
Hut was well lighted all the time we occupied it. Moyes' duties as meteorologist
took him out at all hours. Watson looked after the dogs, while Dovers relieved
other members when they were cooks. The duty of cook was taken for a week
at a time by every one except myself. A night watch was kept by each in
turn. The watchman went on duty at 9 P.M., usually taking advantage of this
night to have a bath and wash his clothes. He prepared breakfast, calling
all hands at 8.30 A.M. for this meal at nine o'clock. The cook for the week
was exempt from all other work. In the case of Kennedy, whose magnetic work
was done principally at night, arrangements were made to assist him with
the cooking.
Work commenced during the winter months at ten o'clock and, unless anything
special had to be done, finished at 1 P.M., when lunch was served. The afternoon
was usually devoted to sport and recreation.
The frequent blizzards and heavy snowfall had by this time buried the Hut
so deeply that only the top of the pointed roof was visible and all the
outside stores were covered.
My diary for April 9 says:
``The blizzard'' (which had commenced on the evening of the 6th) ``played
itself out during the night and we got to work immediately after breakfast.
There was still a fresh breeze and low drift, but this gradually died away.
``We were an hour digging an exit from the Hut. The day has been occupied
in cutting a tunnel entrance, forty feet long, through the drift, so that
driving snow cannot penetrate, and we shall be able to get out with less
trouble.
``As we get time I intend to excavate caverns in the huge drifts packed
round the house and stow all our stores inside; also a good supply of ice
for use during blizzards.
``I had intended to make a trip to Masson Island before the winter properly
set in, but with the weather behaving as it does, I don't think it would
be wise.''
The 10th, 11th and 12th being fine, good progress was made in digging out
store-rooms on either side of the tunnel, but a blizzard on the 13th and
14th stopped us again.
On going to feed the dogs during the afternoon of the 14th, Watson found
that Nansen was dead; this left us with seven, as Crippen had already died.
Of the remainder, only four were of any value; Sweep and the two bitches,
Tiger and Tich, refusing to do anything in harness, and, as there was less
than sufficient food for them, the two latter had to be shot. Sweep would
have shared the same fate but he disappeared, probably falling down a crevasse
or over the edge of the glacier.
Until the end of April almost all our time was spent in making store-rooms
and in searching for buried stores; sometimes a shaft would have to be sunk
eight to twelve feet. Bamboo poles stuck in the snow marked the positions
of the different stacks. The one marking the carbide was blown away, and
it was two days before Dovers finally unearthed it. By the 30th, caves roomy
enough to contain everything were completed, all being connected by the
tunnel. We were now self-contained, and everything was accessible and immune
from the
periodic blizzards.
The entrance, by the way, was a trap-door built over the tunnel and raised
well above the outside surface to prevent it being drifted over. From below
it was approached by a ladder, but the end of the tunnel was left open,
so that in fine weather we could run sledges in and out with loads of ice.
With each blizzard the entrance was completely choked, and it gave two men
a day's work to clear it out once more.
On April 16 Kennedy had a term day. A fresh breeze was blowing and the temperature
was -20 degrees F. Some of his observations had to be taken in the open
and the remainder in a tent. The series took three hours to complete and
by that time he was thoroughly chilled through, his feet and fingers were
frost-bitten and his language had grown more incisive than usual.
Between the 10th and the 19th we made a search for penguins and seals. Hoadley
and Moyes staying behind, the rest of us with tents and equipment journeyed
along the edge of the glacier to the south, without seeing the smallest
sign of life. The edge of the shelf-ice was very much fissured, many of
the breaches giving no sign of their presence, in consequence of which several
falls were sustained. It should be remarked that the Shackleton Shelf-Ice
runs mainly in a southerly direction from the Winter Quarters, joining the
mainland at a point, afterwards named Junction Corner. The map of Queen
Mary Land illustrates this at a glance.
From the 25th to the 29th, Kennedy, Harrisson and Jones were employed building
an igloo to be used as a magnetic observatory. On the afternoon of the 30th,
the magnetician invited every one to a tea-party in the igloo to celebrate
the opening. He had the place very nicely decorated with flags, and after
the reception and the formal inspection of the instruments, we were served
with quite a good tea. The outside temperature was -33 degrees F. and it
was not much higher inside the igloo. As a result, no one extended his visit
beyond the bounds of politeness.
On May 1, Harrisson, Hoadley and Watson went away south towards the land
at the head of the bay, which curved round to Junction Corner, to examine
icebergs, take photographs and to search for seals. They took the four dogs
with them and, as the load was a light one--three hundred and forty-two
pounds--the dogs pulled it easily.
I went with the others to the north, hoping that we might find a portion
of the glacier low enough to give access to the sea-ice. There were several
spots where the ice-cliffs were not more than forty to fifty feet high,
but no convenient ramps led down from the cliffs. In any case neither penguins
nor seals were to be had in the vicinity. A great, flat sheet of frozen
sea stretched away to the north for quite thirty miles.
May 2 was fine, but the 3rd and 4th were windy once more and we had to remain
indoors. Saturday, the 4th, was clean-up day, when the verandas, tunnel
and cave were swept and tidied, the stove cleaned, the hut and darkroom
scrubbed and the windows cleared. The last was a job which was generally
detested. During the week, the windows in the roof collected a coat of ice,
from an inch to three inches thick, by condensation of moisture. Chipping
this off was a most tedious piece of work, while in the process one's clothes
became filled with ice.
One Sunday, Harrisson, Hoadley and Watson returned from their short trip;
they had missed the strong winds which had been blowing at the Base, although
less than twenty miles away. Some very fine old icebergs were discovered
which were of interest to the two geologists and made good subjects for
Harrisson's sketches. Watson had had a nasty fall while crossing a patch
of rough ice, his nose being rather badly cut in the accident.
On May 7 another blizzard stopped all outside work. Moyes ventured as far
as the meteorological screen at noon and got lost, but luckily only for
a short time. The barometer behaved very strangely during the blow, rising
abruptly during a little more than an hour, and then slowly falling once
more. For a few hours on the 8th there was a lull and the store of ice was
replenished, but the 9th and 10th were again spent indoors, repairing and
refitting tents, poles and other sledging gear during the working hours,
and reading or playing chess and bridge in the leisure time. Harrisson carved
an excellent set of chessmen, distinguishing the ``black'' ones by a stain
of permanganate of potash.
Bridge was the favourite game all through the winter, and a continuous record
of the scores was kept. Two medals were struck: a neat little thing for
the highest scorer and a huge affair as large as a plate, slung on a piece
of three-and-a-half-inch rope, with ``Jonah'' inscribed on it, to be worn
by the player at the foot of the list.
Divine service was held every Sunday, Moyes and I taking it in turn. There
was only one hymn book amongst the party, which made it necessary to write
out copies of the hymns each week.
The sleeping-bags used on the first sledging journey had been hung up near
the roof. They were now taken down to be thoroughly overhauled. As a consequence
of their severe soaking, they had shrunk considerably and required enlarging.
Dovers's bag, besides contracting a good deal, had lost much hair and was
cut up to patch the others. He received a spare one to replace it.
May 15 was a beautiful bright morning and I went over to an icy cape two
miles southward, with Harrisson, Hoadley, Dovers and Watson, to find a road
down to the sea-ice. Here, we had good fortune at last, for, by following
down a crevasse which opened out at sea-level into a magnificent cave, we
walked straight out on to the level plain. Along the edge of the glacier
there was not even a seal's blow-hole. Watson took some photos of the cave
and cliff.
It was Kennedy's term night; the work keeping him in the igloo from 10 P.M.
until 2.30 A.M. He had had some difficulty in finding a means of warming
the observatory--an urgent necessity, since he found it impossible to manipulate
delicate magnetic instruments for three or four hours with the temperature
from -25 degrees F. to -30 degrees F. The trouble was to make a non-magnetic
lamp and the problem was finally solved by using one of the aluminium cooking
pots; converting it into a blubber stove. The stove smoked a great deal
and the white walls were soon besmirched with a layer of soot.
The 17th, 18th and 19th were all calm but dull. One day I laid out a ten-hole
golf course and with some homemade balls and hockey sticks for clubs played
a game, not devoid of interest and excitement.
During a blizzard which descended on the evening of the 20th, Zip and Sweep
disappeared and on the 21st, a search on the glacier having been in vain,
Dovers and Hoadley made their way down to the floe. They found Zip well
and hearty in spite of having had a drop of at least forty feet off the
glacier. A further search for Sweep proved fruitless. We were forced to
conclude that he was either killed by falling over the precipice or he had
gone far away hunting for penguins.
The regular blizzard immured us on May 22, 23 and 24; the wind at times
of terrific force, approaching one hundred miles per hour. It was impossible
to secure meteorological observations or to feed the dogs until noon on
the 24th. Moyes and I went out during a slight cessation and, with the aid
of a rope from the trap-door, managed to find the dogs, and gave them some
biscuits. The drift was then so thick that six feet was as far as one could
see.
We did not forget Empire Day and duly ``spliced the mainbrace.'' The most
bigoted teetotaller could not call us an intemperate party. On each Saturday
night, one drink per man was served out, the popular toast being ``Sweethearts
and Wives.'' The only other convivial meetings of our small symposium were
on the birthdays of each member, Midwinter's Day and King's Birthday.
On the 25th we were able to make an inventory of a whole series of damages
effected outside. The dogs' shelter had entirely carried away; a short mast
which had been erected some weeks previously as a holdfast for sledges was
snapped off short and the sledges buried, and, worst of all, Kennedy's igloo
had parted with its roof, the interior being filled with snow, underneath
which the instruments were buried. The dogs were, however, all quite well
and lively. It was fortunate for them that the temperature always rose during
the blizzards. At this period, when on fine days it was usual to experience
-25 degrees to-37 degrees F., the temperature rose in the snowstorms to
25 degrees or even 30 degrees F.
Monday the 27th was beautifully clear. The tunnel entrance was opened and
some of the party brought in ice while others undid the rope lashings which
had been placed over the hut. This was so compactly covered in snow that
the lashings were not required and I wanted to make a rope ladder to enable
us to get down to the sea-ice and also to be used by Watson and Hoadley,
who were about to dig a shaft in the glacier to examine the structure of
the ice.
Fine weather continued until June 2. During this time we were occupied in
digging a road from the glacier down to the sea-ice in the forenoons and
hunting for seals or skiing in the afternoons. Kennedy and Harrisson rebuilt
the magnetic igloo. A seal-hole was eventually found near the foot of the
glacier and this was enlarged to enable the seals to come up.
At the end of May, daylight lasted from 9 A.M. until 3 P.M., and the sunrise
and sunset were a marvel of exquisite colour. The nightly displays of aurora
australis were not very brilliant as the moon was nearing the full.
On the days of blizzards, there was usually sufficient work to be found
to keep us all employed. Thus on June 2, Watson and I were making a ladder,
Jones was contriving a harpoon for seals, Hoadley was opening cases and
stowing stores in the veranda, Dovers cleaning tools, Moyes repairing a
thermograph and writing up the meteorological log, Harrisson cooking and
Kennedy sleeping after a night-watch.
Between June 4 and 22 there was a remarkably fine spell. It was not calm
all the time, as drift flew for a few days, limiting the horizon to a few
hundred yards. An igloo was built as a shelter for those sinking the geological
shaft, and seal-hunting was a daily recreation. On June 9, Dovers and Watson
found a Weddell seal two and a half miles to the west on the sea-ice. They
killed the animal but did not cut it up as there were sores on the skin.
Jones went over with them afterwards and pronounced the sores to be wounds
received from some other animal, so the meat was considered innocuous and
fifty pounds were brought in, being very welcome after tinned foods. Jones
took culture tubes with him and made smears for bacteria. The tubes were
placed in an incubator and several kinds of organisms grew, very similar
to those which infect wounds in ordinary climates.
The snowstorms had by this time built up huge drifts under the lee of the
ice-cliffs, some of them more than fifty feet in height and reaching almost
to the top of the ice-shelf. An exhilarating sport was to ski down these
ramps. The majority of them were very steep and irregular and it was seldom
that any of us escaped without a fall at one time or another. Several of
the party were thrown from thirty to forty feet, and, frequently enough,
over twenty feet, without being hurt. The only accident serious enough to
disable any one happened to Kennedy on June 19, when he twisted his knee
and was laid up for a week.
There were many fine displays of the aurora in June, the best being observed
on the evening of the 18th. Curtains and streamers were showing from four
o'clock in the afternoon. Shortly after midnight, Kennedy, who was taking
magnetic observations, called me to see the most remarkable exhibition I
have so far seen. There was a double curtain 30 degrees wide unfolded from
the eastern horizon through the zenith, with waves shimmering along it so
rapidly that they travelled the whole length of the curtain in two seconds.
The colouring was brilliant and evanescent. When the waves reached the end
of the curtain they spread out to the north and rolled in a voluminous billow
slowly back to the east. Kennedy's instruments showed that a very great
magnetic disturbance was in progress during the auroral displays, and particularly
on this occasion.
Hoadley and Watson set up a line of bamboos, a quarter of a mile apart and
three miles long, on the 20th, and from thence onwards took measurements
for snowfall every fortnight.
On Midwinter's Day the temperature ranged from -38 degrees F. to -25 degrees
F. and daylight lasted from 10 A.M. until 4 P.M. We proclaimed a universal
holiday throughout Queen Mary Land. Being Saturday, there were a few necessary
jobs to be done, but all were finished by 11 A.M. The morning was fine and
several of us went down to the floe for skiing, but after twelve o'clock
the sky became overcast and the light was dimmed. A strong breeze brought
along a trail of drift, and at 6 P.M. a heavy blizzard was in full career.
Inside, the hut was decorated with flags and a savoury dinner was in the
throes of preparation. To make the repast still more appetising, Harrisson,
Hoadley and Dovers devised some very pretty and clever menus. Speeches,
toasts and a gramophone concert made the evening pass quickly and enjoyably.
From this time dated our preparations for spring sledging, which I hoped
would commence about August 15. Jones made some experiments with ``glaxo,''
of which we had a generous supply. His aim was to make biscuits which would
be suitable for sledging, and, after several failures, he succeeded in compressing
with a steel die a firm biscuit of glaxo and butter mixed, three ounces
of which was the equivalent in theoretical food value to four and a half
ounces of plasmon biscuit; thereby affording a pleasant variety in the usual
ration.
July came in quietly, though it was dull and cloudy, and we were able to
get out on the first two days for work and exercise. On the 2nd a very fine
effect was caused by the sun shining through myriads of fog-crystals which
a light northerly breeze had brought down from the sea. The sun, which was
barely clear of the horizon, was itself a deep red, on either side and above
it was a red mock sun and a rainbow-tinted halo connected the three mock
suns.
On the 5th and 6th the wind blew a terrific hurricane (judged to reach a
velocity of one hundred miles per hour) and, had we not known that nothing
short of an earthquake could move the hut, we should have been very uneasy.
All were now busy making food-bags, opening and breaking up pemmican and
emergency rations, grinding biscuits, attending to personal gear and doing
odd jobs many and various.
In addition to recreations like chess, cards and dominoes, a competition
was started for each member to write a poem and short article, humorous
or otherwise, connected with the Expedition. These were all read by the
authors after dinner one evening and caused considerable amusement. One
man even preferred to sing his poem. These literary efforts were incorporated
in a small publication known as ``The Glacier Tongue.''
Watson and Hoadley put in a good deal of time digging their shaft in the
glacier. As a roofed shelter had been built over the top, they were able
to work in all but the very worst weather. While the rest of us were fitting
sledges on the 17th and 18th, they succeeded in getting down to a level
of twenty-one feet below the surface of the shelf-ice.
Sandow, the leader of the dogs, disappeared on the 18th. Zip, who had been
missed for two days, returned, but Sandow never came back, being killed,
doubtless, by a fall of snow from the cliffs. All along the edge of the
ice-shelf were snow cornices, some weighing hundreds of tons; and these
often broke away, collapsing with a thunderous sound.
On July 31, Harrisson and Watson had a narrow escape. After
finishing their day's work, they climbed down to the floe by a huge cornice
and sloping ramp. A few seconds later, the cornice fell and an immense mass
of hard snow crashed down, cracking the sea-ice for more than a hundred
yards around.
July had been an inclement month with three really fine and eight tolerable
days. In comparison with June's, which was -14.5 degrees F., the mean temperature
of July was high at -1.5 degrees F. and the early half of August was little
better.
Sunday August 11 was rather an eventful day. Dovers and I went out in the
wind to attend to the dogs and clear the chimney and, upon our return, found
the others just recovering from rather an exciting accident. Jones had been
charging the acetylene generators and by some means one of them caught fire.
For a while there was the danger of a general conflagration and explosion,
as the gas-tank was floating in kerosene. Throwing water over everything
would have made matters worse, so blankets were used to smother the flames.
As this failed to extinguish them, the whole plant was pulled down and carried
into the tunnel, where the fire was at last put out. The damage amounted
to two blankets singed and dirtied, Jones's face scorched and hair singed,
and Kennedy, one finger jammed. It was a fortunate escape from a calamity.
A large capsized berg had been noticed for some time, eleven miles to the
north. On the 14th, Harrisson, Dovers, Hoadley and Watson took three days'
provisions and equipment and went off to examine it. A brief account is
extracted from Harrisson's diary:
``It was a particularly fine, mild morning; we made good progress, three
dogs dragging the loaded sledge over the smooth floe without difficulty,
requiring assistance only when crossing banks of soft snow. One and a half
miles from `The Steps,' we saw the footprints of a penguin.
``Following the cliffs of the shelf-ice for six and three quarter miles,
we sighted a Weddell seal sleeping on a drift of snow. Killing the animal,
cutting off the meat and burying it in the drift delayed us for about one
hour. Continuing our journey under a fine bluff, over floe-ice much cracked
by tide-pressure, we crossed a small bay cutting wedge-like into the glacier
and camped on its far side.
``After our midday meal we walked to the berg three miles away. When seen
on June 28, this berg was tilted to the north-east, but the opposite end,
apparently in contact with the ice-cliffs, had lifted higher than the glacier-shelf
itself. From a distance it could be seen that the sides, for half their
height, were wave-worn and smooth. Three or four acres of environing floe
were buckled, ploughed up and in places heaped twenty feet high, while several
large fragments of the broken floe were poised aloft on the old `water-line'
of the berg.
``However, on this visit, we found that the berg had turned completely over
towards the cliffs and was now floating on its side surrounded by large
separate chunks; all locked fast in the floe. In what had been the bottom
of the berg Hoadley and Watson made an interesting find of stones and pebbles--the
first found in this dead land!
``Leaving them collecting, I climbed the pitted wave-worn ice, brittle and
badly cracked on the higher part. The highest point was fifty feet above
the level of the top of the shelf-ice. There was no sign of open water to
the north, but a few seals were observed sleeping under the cliffs.''
Next morning the weather thickened and the wind arose, so a start was made
for the Base. All that day the party groped along in the comparative shelter
of the cliff-face until forced to camp. It was not till the next afternoon
in moderate drift that a pair of skis which had been left at the foot of
`The Steps' were located and the hut reached once again.
After lunch on August 1l, while we were excavating some buried kerosene,
Jones sighted a group of seven Emperor penguins two miles away over the
western floe. Taking a sledge and camera we made after them. A mile off,
they saw us and advanced with their usual stately bows. It seemed an awful
shame to kill them, but we were sorely in need of fresh meat. The four we
secured averaged seventy pounds in weight and were a heavy load up the steep
rise to the glacier; but our reward came at dinner-time.
With several fine days to give us confidence, everything was made ready
for the sledge journey on August 20. The party was to consist of six men
and three dogs, the object of the journey being to lay out a food-depot
to the east in view of the long summer journey we were to make in that direction.
Hoadley and Kennedy were to remain at the Base, the former to finish the
geological shaft and the latter for magnetic work. There remained also a
good deal to do preparing stores for later sledge journeys.
The load was to be one thousand four hundred and forty pounds distributed
over three sledges; two hundred pounds heavier than on the March Journey,
but as the dogs pulled one sledge, the actual weight per man was less.
The rations were almost precisely the same as those used by Shackleton during
his Expedition, and the daily allowance was exactly the same-- thirty-four
ounces per man per day. For his one ounce of oatmeal, the same weighs of
ground biscuit was substituted; the food value being the same. On the second
depot journey and the main summer journeys, a three-ounce glaxo biscuit
was used in place of four and a half ounces of plasmon biscuit. Instead
of taking cheese and chocolate as the luncheon ration, I took chocolate
alone, as on Shackleton's southern journey it was found more satisfactory
than the cheese, though the food value was practically the same.
The sledging equipment and clothing were identical with that used by Shackleton.
Jaeger fleece combination suits were included in the outfit but, though
excellent garments for work at the Base, they were much too heavy for sledging.
We therefore wore Jaeger underclothing and burberry wind clothing as overalls.
The weather was not propitious for a start until Thursday, August 22. We
turned out at 5.30 A.M., had breakfast, packed up and left the Hut at seven
o'clock.
After two good days' work under a magnificently clear sky, with the temperature
often as low as -34 degrees F., we sighted two small nunataks among a cluster
of pressure-ridges, eight miles to the south. It was the first land, in
the sense of rocks, seen for more than seven months. We hoped to visit the
outcrops--Gillies Nunataks--on our return.
The course next day was due east and parallel to the mainland, then ten
miles distant. To the north was Masson Island, while at about the same distance
and ahead was a smaller island, entirely ice-covered like the former--Henderson
Island.
A blizzard of three days' duration kept us in camp between August 27 and
30. Jones, Moyes and I had a three-man sleeping-bag, and the temperature
being high, 11 degrees to 15 degrees F., we were very warm, but thoroughly
tired of lying down for so long. Harrisson, Dovers and Watson had single
bags and therefore less room in the other tent.
The last day of August was beautifully bright: temperature -12 degrees to
-15 degrees F. We passed Henderson Island in the forenoon, and, hauling
up a rise to the south of it, had a good view of the surroundings. On the
right, the land ran back to form a large bay, seventeen miles wide. This
was later named the Bay of Winds, as a ``blow'' was always encountered while
crossing it.
In the centre of the bay was a nunatak, which from its shape at once received
the name of the Alligator. In front, apparently fifteen miles off, was another
nunatak, the Hippo, and four definite outcrops--Delay Point and Avalanche
Rocks--could be seen along the mainland. The sight of this bare rock was
very pleasing, as we had begun to think we were going to find nothing but
ice-sheathed land. Dovers took a round of angles to all the prominent points.
The Hippo was twenty-two miles away, so deceptive is distance in these latitudes;
and in one and a half days, over very heavy sastrugi, we were in its vicinity.
The sledges could not be brought very near the rock as it was surrounded
by massive ridges of pressure-ice.
We climbed to the top of the nunatak which was four hundred and twenty feet
high, four hundred yards long and two hundred yards wide. It was composed
of gneissic granite and schists. Dovers took angles from an eminence, Watson
collected geological specimens and Harrisson sketched until his fingers
were frost-bitten. Moss and lichens were found and a dead snow petrel--a
young one--showing that the birds must breed in the vicinity.
To the south, the glacier shelf appeared to be very little broken, but to
the north it was terribly torn and twisted. At each end of the nunatak there
was a very fine bergschrund.** Twenty miles to the east there appeared to
be an uncovered rocky islet; the mainland turning to the southward twelve
miles away. During the night the minimum thermometer registered -47 degrees
F.
** The term not used in the usual sense. Referring to a wide, imposing crevasse
caused by the division of the ice as it presses past the nunatak.--ED.
An attempt to get away next morning was frustrated by a strong gale. We
were two hundred yards from the shelter of the Hippo and were forced to
turn back, since it was difficult to keep one's feet, while the sledges
were blown sideways over the neve surface.
I resolved to leave the depot in this place and return to the Base, for
our sleeping-bags were getting very wet and none of the party were having
sufficient sleep. We were eighty-four miles from the hut; I had hoped to
do one hundred miles, but we could make up for that by starting the summer
journey a few days earlier. One sledge was left here as well as six weeks'
allowance of food for three men, except tea, of which there was sufficient
for fifty days, seventy days oil and seventy-eight days' biscuit. The sledge
was placed on end in a hole three feet deep and a mound built up around
it, six feet high; a bamboo and flag being lashed to the top.
On September 4 we were homeward bound, heading first to the mainland leaving
Delay Point on our left, to examine some of the outcrops of rock. Reaching
the coast about 3 P.M., camp was shortly afterwards pitched in a most beautiful
spot. A wall of solid rock rose sheer for over four hundred feet and was
crowned by an ice-cap half the thickness. Grand ice-falls surged down on
either side.
The tents were erected in what appeared to be a sheltered hollow, a quarter
of a mile from Avalanche Rocks. One tent was up and we were setting the
other in position when the wind suddenly veered right round to the east
and flattened out both tents. It was almost as humorous as annoying. They
were soon raised up once more, facing the other way.
While preparing for bed, a tremendous avalanche came down. The noise was
awful and seemed so close that we all turned to the door and started out.
The fastening of the entrance was knotted, the people from the other tent
were yelling to us to come out, so we dragged up the bottom of the tent
and dived beneath it.
The cliff was entirely hidden by a cloud of snow, and, though the crashing
had now almost ceased, we stood ready to run, Dovers thoughtfully seizing
a food-bag. However, none of the blocks had come within a hundred yards
of us, and as it was now blowing hard, all hands elected to remain where
they were.
Several more avalanches, which had broken away near the edge of the mainland,
disturbed our sleep through the night, but they were not quite so alarming
as the first one. A strong breeze was blowing at daybreak; still the weather
was not too bad for travelling, and so I called the party. Moyes and I lashed
up our bags, passed them out and strapped them on the sledge; Jones, in
the meantime, starting the cooker. Suddenly a terrific squall struck the
front of our tent, the poles burst through the apex, and the material split
from top to bottom.
Moyes and I were both knocked down. When we found our feet again, we went
to the aid of the other men, whose tent had survived the gust. The wind
rushed by more madly than ever, and the only thing to do was to pull away
the poles and allow the tent to collapse.
Looking around for a lee where it could be raised, we found the only available
shelter to be a crevasse three hundred yards to windward, but the wind was
now so strong that it was impossible to convey the gear even to such a short
distance. All were frequently upset and blown along the surface twenty or
thirty yards, and, even with an ice-axe, one could not always hold his own.
The only resort was to dig a shelter.
Setting to work, we excavated a hole three feet deep, twelve feet long and
six feet wide; the snow being so compact that the job occupied three hours.
The sledges and tent-poles were placed across the hole, the good tent being
laid on top and weighted down with snow and blocks of ice. All this sounds
very easy, but it was a slow and difficult task. Many of the gusts must
have exceeded one hundred miles per hour, since one of them lifted Harrisson
who was standing beside me, clean over my head and threw him nearly twenty
feet. Everything movable was stowed in the hole, and at noon we had a meal
and retired into sleeping- bags. At three o'clock a weighty avalanche descended,
its fearful crash resounding above the roar of the wind. I have never found
anything which gave me a more uncomfortable feeling than those avalanches.
The gale continued on September 6, and we still remained packed in the trench.
If the latter had been deeper and it had been possible to sit upright, we
should have been quite comfortable. To make matters worse, several more
avalanches came down, and all of them sounded horribly close.
We were confined in our burrow for five days, the wind continuing to blow
with merciless force. Through being closed up so much, the temperature of
the hole rose above freezing-point, consequently our sleeping-bags and clothes
became very wet.
On Sunday September 8, Moyes went out to feed the dogs and to bring in some
biscuit. He found a strong gusty wind with falling snow, and drift so thick
that he could not see five yards. We had a cold lunch with nothing to drink,
so that the primus should not raise the temperature. In the evening we sang
hymns and between us managed to remember the words of at least a dozen.
The long confinement was over on the 10th; the sky was blue and the sun
brilliant, though the wind still pulsated with racking gusts. As soon as
we were on the ice, away from the land, two men had to hold on to the rear
of each sledge, and even then capsizes often occurred. The sledge would
turn and slide broadside-on to leeward, tearing the runners badly on the
rough ice. Still, by 9.30 A.M. the surface changed to snow and the travelling
improved. That night we camped with twenty miles one hundred yards on the
meter.
There was a cold blizzard on the 11th with a temperature of -30 degrees
F. Confined in the tents, we found our sleeping-bags still sodden and uncomfortable.
With a strong beam wind and in moderate drift big marches were made for
two days, during which the compass and sastrugi determined our course.
My diary of September 14 runs as follows:
``On the march at 7 A.M.; by noon we had done twelve miles one thousand
five hundred yards. Lunch was hurried, as we were all anxious to get to
the hut to-night, especially we in the three-man bag, as it got so wet while
we were living underground that we have had very little sleep and plenty
of shivering for the last four nights. Last night I had no sleep at all.
By some means, in the afternoon, we got on the wrong course. Either the
compass was affected or a mistake had been made in some of the bearings,
as instead of reaching home by 5 P.M. we were travelling till 8 P.M. and
have done thirty-two miles one thousand one hundred yards. Light loads,
good surface and a fair wind account for the good travelling, the sail doing
almost all the work on the man-hauled sledge.
``The last two hours we were in the dark, except for a young moon, amongst
a lot of crevasses and pressure-ridges which none of us could recognize.
At one time, we found ourselves on a slope within a dozen yards of the edge
of the glacier; this decided me to camp. Awfully disappointing; anticipating
another wretched night. Temperature -35 degrees F.''
Next day we reached home. The last camp had been four and a half miles north
of the hut. I found that we had gone wrong through using 149 degrees as
the bearing of Masson Island from the Base, when it should have been 139
degrees. I believe it was my own mistake, as I gave the bearing to Dovers
and he is very careful.
Before having a meal, we were all weighed and found the average loss to
be eight pounds. In the evening, Moyes and I weighed ourselves again; he
had gained seven pounds and I five and three-quarter pounds.
Comparing notes with Hoadley and Kennedy, I found that the weather at the
Base had been similar to that experienced on the sledging journey.
It was now arranged that Jones was to take charge of the main western journey
in the summer. While looking for a landing-place in the Aurora', we
had noted to the west an expanse of old, fast floe, extending for at least
fifty miles. The idea was for Jones and party to march along this floe and
lay a depot on the land as far west as was possible in four weeks. The party
included Dovers, Harrisson, Hoadley and Moyes. They were to be assisted
by the dogs.
It was my intention to take Kennedy and Watson up to the depot we had left
on the hills in March, bringing back the minimum thermometer and probably
some of the food. Watson was slightly lame at the time, as he had bruised
his foot on the last trip.
Until Jones made a start on September 26, there were ten days of almost
continuous wind and drift. The equinox may have accounted for this prolonged
period of atrocious weather. No time, however, was wasted indoors. Weighing
and bagging food, repairing tents, poles, cookers and other gear damaged
on the last journey and sewing and mending clothes gave every man plenty
of employment.
At 6 A.M. on the 26th, Jones reported that there was only a little low drift
and that the wind was dying away. All hands were therefore called and breakfast
served.
Watson, Kennedy and I assisted the others down to the sea-ice by a long
sloping snow-drift and saw them off to a good start in a south-westerly
direction. We found that the heavy sledge used for carrying ice had been
blown more then five hundred yards to the edge of the glacier, capsized
among the rough pressure-slabs and broken. Two heavy boxes which were on
the sledge had disappeared altogether.
The rest of the day was devoted to clearing stores out of the tunnels. It
was evident to us that with the advent of warmer weather, the roof of the
caves or grottoes (by the way, the hut received the name of ``The Grottoes'')
would sink, and so it was advisable to repack the cases outside rather than
dig them out of the deep snow. By 6 P.M. nearly two hundred boxes were passed
up through the trap- door and the caverns were all empty.
After two days of blizzard, Watson, Kennedy and I broke trail with loads
of one hundred and seventy pounds per man. Right from the start the surface
was so soft that pulling became very severe. On the first day, September
29, we managed to travel more than nine miles, but during the next six days
the snow became deeper and more impassable, and only nineteen miles were
covered. Crevasses were mostly invisible, and on the slope upwards to the
ice-cap more troublesome than usual. The weather kept up its invariable
wind and drift. Finally, after making laborious headway to two thousand
feet, Kennedy strained his Achilles tendon and I decided to return to ``The
Grottoes.''
At 2 P.M. on October 8, the mast was sighted and we climbed down into the
Hut, finding it very cold, empty and dark. The sun had shone powerfully
that day and Kennedy and Watson had a touch of snow- blindness.
Two weeks went by and there was no sign of the western depot party. In fact,
out of sixteen days, there were thirteen of thick drift and high wind, so
that our sympathies went out to the men in tents with soaking bags, waiting
patiently for a rift in the driving wall of snow. On October 23 they had
been away for four weeks; provisions for that time having been taken. I
had no doubt that they would be on reduced rations, and, if the worst came,
they could eat the dogs.
During a lull on October 24, I went to the masthead with the field-glasses
but saw nothing of the party. On that day we weighed out provisions and
made ready to go in search of them. It was my intention to go on the outward
track for a week. I wrote instructions to Jones to hoist a large flag on
the mast, and to burn flares each night at 10 P.M. if he should return while
I was away.
There was a fresh gale with blinding drift early on the following morning;
so we postponed the start. At 4 P.M. the wind subsided to a strong breeze
and I again went up the mast to sweep the horizon. Westward from an icy
cape to the south a gale was still blowing and a heavy cloud of drift, fifty
to sixty feet high, obscured everything.
An hour later Watson saw three Adelie penguins approaching across the floe
and we went down to meet them, bringing them in for the larder. Four Antarctic
petrels flew above our heads: a sign of returning summer which was very
cheering.
The previous night had promised a fine day and we were not disappointed
on October 26. A sledge was packed with fourteen days' provisions for eight
men and we started away on a search expedition at 10 A.M.
After doing a little over nine miles we camped at 5.30 P.M. Before retiring
to bag, I had a last look round and was delighted to see Jones and his party
about a mile to the south. It was now getting dark and we were within two
hundred yards of them before being seen, and, as they were to windward,
they could not hear our shouts. It was splendid to find them all looking
well. They were anxious to get back to ``The Grottoes,'' considering there
was only one serviceable tent between them. Kennedy and I offered to change
with any of them but, being too eager for warm blankets and a good bed,
they trudged on, arriving at the Base at midnight.
Briefly told, their story was that they were stopped in their westerly march,
when forty-five miles had been covered, by a badly broken glacier--Helen
Glacier--on the far side of which there was open sea. There was only one
thing to do and that was to set out for the mainland by a course so circuitous
that they were brought a long way eastward, back towards ``The Grottoes.''
They had very rough travelling, bad weather, and were beset with many difficulties
in mounting on to the land-ice, where the depot had to he placed. Their
distance from the Base at this point was only twenty-eight miles and the
altitude was one thousand feet above sea-level. On the ice-cap they were
delayed by a blizzard and for seventeen days--an unexampled time--they were
unable to move from camp. One tent collapsed and the occupants, Jones, Dovers
and Hoadley, had to dig a hole in the snow and lower the tent into it.
These are a few snatches from Jones's diary:
``The next sixteen days (following Wednesday, October 9) were spent at this
camp.... Harrisson and Moyes occupied one tent and Dovers, Hoadley and myself
the other.
``On Saturday, the third day of the blizzard, the wind which had been blowing
steadily from the east-south-east veered almost to east and the tents commenced
to flog terrifically. This change must have occurred early in the night,
for we awoke at 5 A.M. to find clouds of snow blowing under the skirt on
one side: the heavy pile on the flounce having been cut away by the wind.
As it would have been impossible to do anything outside, we pulled the tent
poles together and allowed the tent to collapse. The rest of the day was
spent in confined quarters, eating dry rations and melting snow in our mugs
by the warmth of our bodies.... Although Harrisson and Moyes were no more
than twenty feet from us, the noise of the gale and the flogging of our
tents rendered communication impossible.
``The terrible flapping at last caused one of the seams of our tent to tear;
we sewed it as well as we were able and hoped that it would hold till daylight.
``On Monday morning, the same seam again parted and we decided to let the
tent down again, spending the day in a half-reclining position....
``At 6.30 P.M. the gale eased and, during a comparative lull, Moyes came
out to feed the dogs. Noticing our position, he helped us to re-erect the
tent and Dovers then went out and piled snow over the torn seam. Moyes said
that Harrisson and he had been fairly comfortable, although the cap of their
tent was slowly tearing with the pressure of the wind and snow on the weather
panels....
``On Friday, the 18th, Swiss, one of the dogs, returned very thin after
six days' absence from the camp.
``On the following Monday the blizzard moderated somewhat and we proceeded
to make our quarters more roomy by digging out the floor and undercutting
the sides, thus lowering the level about eighteen inches.
``Our tent now looks as if it were half blown over. To relieve the tremendous
strain on the cap, we lowered the feet of the two lee poles on to the new
floor. The tent now offered very little resistance to the wind. We were
able to communicate with Harrisson and Moyes and they said they were all
right.''
When the snow and wind at last held up, they immediately made down to the
sea-ice and back towards home, and, when they met us, had done nineteen
miles. All were stiff next day, and no wonder; a march of twenty-eight miles
after lying low for seventeen days is a very strenuous day's work.
Preparations were made on October 28 for the main eastern summer journey,
the object of which was to survey as much coast-line as possible and at
the same time to carry on geological work, surveying and magnetics. The
party was to consist of Kennedy, Watson and myself.
Jones, Dovers and Hoadley were to start on the main western journey on November
2. I arranged that Harrisson and Moyes should remain at the Hut, the latter
to carry on meteorological work, and Harrisson biology and sketching. Later,
Harrisson proposed to accompany me as far as the Hippo depot, bringing the
dogs and providing a supporting party. At first I did not like the idea,
as he would have to travel one hundred miles alone, but he showed me that
he could erect a tent by himself and, as summer and better weather were
in sight, I agreed that he should come.
Each party was taking fourteen weeks' provisions, and I had an additional
four weeks' supply for Harrisson and the dogs. My total load came to nine
hundred and seventy pounds; the dogs pulling four hundred pounds with the
assistance of one man and three of us dragging five hundred and seventy
pounds.
CHAPTER XXI -
THE WESTERN BASE--BLOCKED ON THE SHELF-ICE
