Scott
"Three days generally see these blizzards out, and we hoped much from Friday, December 8," recalled Cherry. "But when we breakfasted at 10 a.m. (we were getting into day-marching routine) wind and snow were monotonously the same. The temperature rose to +34.3°. These temperatures and those recorded by Meares on his way home must be a record for the interior of the Barrier. So far as we were concerned it did not much matter now whether it was +40° or +34°. Things did look really gloomy that morning." [1]
"But at noon there came a gleam of comfort."
The wind dropped. Almost immediately, the men were digging out the tents and sledges in the watery sunshine. Without sewn-in groundsheets, the tents had leaked profusely. "We bails the water off the floor cloth," Keohane wrote in his diary, "but that is small comfort." [2]
"We are all sitting round now after some tea," Cherry continued in the afternoon, "it is much better than getting into the bags. I can hardly think that the ponies can pull on, but Titus thinks they can pull to-morrow; all the food is finished, and what they have had to-day was only what they would not eat out of their last feed yesterday. It is a terrible end -- driven to death on no more food, to be then cut up, poor devils. I have swopped the Little Minister with Silas Wright for Dante's Inferno!"
Amundsen
"We stayed in bed late today," Amundsen wrote in his diary, "to prepare for the final onslaught."
The Norwegians laid their last depot, lightening Wisting's and Bjaaland's sledges by about 100 pounds each. The depot was marked especially carefully, with a traverse line of planks taken from empty sledging cases and painted black, earlier at Framheim. The planks were set a hundred skiing paces from each other, making a grid of three miles in either direction of the depot. Every other plank, Amundsen noted, "carries a black pennant. Those planks to the E. all have a notch under the pennant to indicate the direction they lie in relation to the depot.... In addition to the transverse marking we will put up a few snow blocks every other nautical mile on the way South." [3]
One of Wisting's dogs had disappeared the day before -- "presumably he has gone away to die."
"We leave here well supplied to get back here -- ca.30 days [rations] for humans, ca.20 days for dogs. Three of us -- H[elmer] H[anssen], W[isting], and I," Amundsen added, "look quite awe-inspiring since our faces were frostbitten in the SE storm a few days ago. Bj[aaland] & Hass[el], who went last, got off scot free. The dogs have begun to be quite dangerous and must be considered as mortal enemies when one leaves the sledges."
To the northeast in King Edward VII Land, Prestrud and his Eastern Party decided to head for home.
Notes:
[1] Apsley Cherry-Garrard, The Worst Journey in the World, ch.IX.
[2] Patrick Keohane, diary, 8 December, 1911, quoted by Roland Huntford in Scott and Amundsen (New York : Putnam, 1980, c1979), p.463.
[3] Roald Amundsen, diary, 9 December, 1911, quoted by Roland Huntford in Race for the South Pole : the expedition diaries of Scott and Amundsen (London : Continuum, c2010), p.172-173. See the entry for 30 October 1911 for Nilsen's drawing of the similar markers at the 80° depot.
December 8, 2011
December 7, 2011
Thursday, 7 December 1911
Scott
"The storm continues and the situation is now serious," wrote Scott. "One small feed remains for the ponies after to-day, so that we must either march to-morrow or sacrifice the animals. That is not the worst; with the help of the dogs we could get on, without doubt. The serious part is that we have this morning started our Summit rations, that is to say, the food calculated from the Glacier depot has been begun. Resignation to misfortune is the only attitude, but not an easy one to adopt. It seems undeserved where plans were well laid and so nearly crowned with a first success. I cannot see that any plan would be altered if it were to do again, the margin for bad weather was ample according to all experience, and this stormy December -- our finest month -- is a thing that the most cautious organiser might not have been prepared to encounter. It is very evil to lie here in a wet sleeping-bag and think of the pity of it, whilst with no break in the overcast sky things go steadily from bad to worse (T. 32°)." [1]
Teddy Evans, a trifle petulantly, wrote in his diary, "I think it would be fairer to shoot [the ponies] now, for what is a possible twelve miles to help?... Why, our party have never been out of harness for nearly 400 miles, so why should not the other eight men buckle to and do some dragging instead of saving work in halfpenny numbers?" [2]
With little else to do, Cherry's thoughts turned towards food. "Henceforward our full ration will be 16 oz. biscuit, 12 oz. pemmican, 2 oz. butter, 0.57 oz. cocoa, 3.0 oz. sugar and 0.86 oz. tea. This is the Summit ration, total 34.43 oz., with a little onion powder and salt. I am all for this: Seaman Evans and others are much regretting the loss of chocolate, raisins and cereals. For the first week up the glacier we are to go one biscuit short to provision Meares on the way back. The motors depôted too much and Meares has been brought on far farther than his orders were originally bringing him. Originally he was to be back at Hut Point on December 10. The dogs, however, are getting all the horse that is good for them, and are very fit. He has to average 24 miles a day going back. Michael is well out of this: we are now eating him. He was in excellent condition and tastes very good, though tough." [3]
Amundsen
Sledges, dogs, and men, having passed Shackleton's southernmost latitude, 7th December, 1911. [4]
"One of our big days," Amundsen began his diary.
"'His Grace'" the sun emerged and they found the observed latitude, 88° 16', agreed with the dead reckoning to within a mile: "a brilliant victory, after 1 1/2 deg. [ninety miles] in thick fog and snow drift ... so now we are ready to take the pole in any kind of weather on offer." [5]
Amundsen, going ahead as forerunner, "suddenly heard a stout, hearty cheer behind. I turned round. In the light breeze from the South, the brave, well-known colours waved from the first sledge, we have passed and put behind us [Shackleton's] record. It was a splendid sight. The sun had just broken through in all its glory and illuminated in a lovely manner the beautiful little flag .... My goggles clouded over again, but this time it was not the South wind's fault." [6]
"As my dogs were horribly worn, I was 1 mile behind," wrote Bjaaland, "and when I reached 88° 23' the Norwegian flag was flying, and I seemed to walk on springs. I congratulated the Captain, he was in a brilliant humour, you can be sure. Extra chocolate in honour of the occasion. Tomorrow rest day. The sun is shining." [7]
Prestrud at the top of Scott's Nunatak, probably 7th December, 1911. [8]
In the Alexandra Mountains, Prestrud's party dug themselves out after a four-day blizzard. "After six hours' hard work," he wrote later, "we got the tent set up a few yards to windward of its first position; the place where it had stood was now a well about seven feet deep. Unfortunately there was no chance of immortalizing this scene of excavation. It would have been amusing enough to have it on the plate; but drifting snow is a serious obstacle to an amateur photographer -- besides which, my camera was on Stubberud's sledge, buried at least four feet down." [9]
Afterwards, they dashed off at last to the peaks they had sighted days earlier, which he named Scott's Nunataks -- "after Captain Scott, who first saw them" in 1902.
Notes:
[1] R.F. Scott, diary, 7 December, 1911, quoted in Scott's Last Expedition : the Journals, v.1.
[2] E.R.G.R. Evans, diary, [date not given], quoted by David Crane in Scott of the Antarctic (New York : Knopf, c2005), p.469.
[3] Apsley Cherry-Garrard, The Worst Journey in the World, ch.IX.
[4] Roald Amundsen Bildearkiv, Nasjonalbiblioteket.
[5] Roald Amundsen, diary, 8 December, 1911, quoted by Roland Huntford in Scott and Amundsen (New York : Putnam, 1980, c1979), p.484.
[6] Roald Amundsen, diary, 8 December, 1911, quoted by Roland Huntford in Scott and Amundsen (New York : Putnam, 1980, c1979), p.459.
[7] Olav Bjaaland, diary, 8 December, 1911, quoted by Roland Huntford in Race for the South Pole : the expedition diaries of Scott and Amundsen (London : Continuum, c2010), p.170.
[8] Roald Amundsen Bildearkiv, Nasjonalbiblioteket.
[9] Kristian Prestrud, "The Eastern Sledge Journey", in Roald Amundsen's The South Pole, ch.15. Note that the date is given as 8th December; see Hinks' note on dates in "The Observations of Amundsen and Scott at the South Pole" (The Geographical Journal, April 1944, p.169).
"The storm continues and the situation is now serious," wrote Scott. "One small feed remains for the ponies after to-day, so that we must either march to-morrow or sacrifice the animals. That is not the worst; with the help of the dogs we could get on, without doubt. The serious part is that we have this morning started our Summit rations, that is to say, the food calculated from the Glacier depot has been begun. Resignation to misfortune is the only attitude, but not an easy one to adopt. It seems undeserved where plans were well laid and so nearly crowned with a first success. I cannot see that any plan would be altered if it were to do again, the margin for bad weather was ample according to all experience, and this stormy December -- our finest month -- is a thing that the most cautious organiser might not have been prepared to encounter. It is very evil to lie here in a wet sleeping-bag and think of the pity of it, whilst with no break in the overcast sky things go steadily from bad to worse (T. 32°)." [1]
Teddy Evans, a trifle petulantly, wrote in his diary, "I think it would be fairer to shoot [the ponies] now, for what is a possible twelve miles to help?... Why, our party have never been out of harness for nearly 400 miles, so why should not the other eight men buckle to and do some dragging instead of saving work in halfpenny numbers?" [2]
With little else to do, Cherry's thoughts turned towards food. "Henceforward our full ration will be 16 oz. biscuit, 12 oz. pemmican, 2 oz. butter, 0.57 oz. cocoa, 3.0 oz. sugar and 0.86 oz. tea. This is the Summit ration, total 34.43 oz., with a little onion powder and salt. I am all for this: Seaman Evans and others are much regretting the loss of chocolate, raisins and cereals. For the first week up the glacier we are to go one biscuit short to provision Meares on the way back. The motors depôted too much and Meares has been brought on far farther than his orders were originally bringing him. Originally he was to be back at Hut Point on December 10. The dogs, however, are getting all the horse that is good for them, and are very fit. He has to average 24 miles a day going back. Michael is well out of this: we are now eating him. He was in excellent condition and tastes very good, though tough." [3]
Amundsen
Sledges, dogs, and men, having passed Shackleton's southernmost latitude, 7th December, 1911. [4]"One of our big days," Amundsen began his diary.
"'His Grace'" the sun emerged and they found the observed latitude, 88° 16', agreed with the dead reckoning to within a mile: "a brilliant victory, after 1 1/2 deg. [ninety miles] in thick fog and snow drift ... so now we are ready to take the pole in any kind of weather on offer." [5]
Amundsen, going ahead as forerunner, "suddenly heard a stout, hearty cheer behind. I turned round. In the light breeze from the South, the brave, well-known colours waved from the first sledge, we have passed and put behind us [Shackleton's] record. It was a splendid sight. The sun had just broken through in all its glory and illuminated in a lovely manner the beautiful little flag .... My goggles clouded over again, but this time it was not the South wind's fault." [6]
"As my dogs were horribly worn, I was 1 mile behind," wrote Bjaaland, "and when I reached 88° 23' the Norwegian flag was flying, and I seemed to walk on springs. I congratulated the Captain, he was in a brilliant humour, you can be sure. Extra chocolate in honour of the occasion. Tomorrow rest day. The sun is shining." [7]
Prestrud at the top of Scott's Nunatak, probably 7th December, 1911. [8]In the Alexandra Mountains, Prestrud's party dug themselves out after a four-day blizzard. "After six hours' hard work," he wrote later, "we got the tent set up a few yards to windward of its first position; the place where it had stood was now a well about seven feet deep. Unfortunately there was no chance of immortalizing this scene of excavation. It would have been amusing enough to have it on the plate; but drifting snow is a serious obstacle to an amateur photographer -- besides which, my camera was on Stubberud's sledge, buried at least four feet down." [9]
Afterwards, they dashed off at last to the peaks they had sighted days earlier, which he named Scott's Nunataks -- "after Captain Scott, who first saw them" in 1902.
Notes:
[1] R.F. Scott, diary, 7 December, 1911, quoted in Scott's Last Expedition : the Journals, v.1.
[2] E.R.G.R. Evans, diary, [date not given], quoted by David Crane in Scott of the Antarctic (New York : Knopf, c2005), p.469.
[3] Apsley Cherry-Garrard, The Worst Journey in the World, ch.IX.
[4] Roald Amundsen Bildearkiv, Nasjonalbiblioteket.
[5] Roald Amundsen, diary, 8 December, 1911, quoted by Roland Huntford in Scott and Amundsen (New York : Putnam, 1980, c1979), p.484.
[6] Roald Amundsen, diary, 8 December, 1911, quoted by Roland Huntford in Scott and Amundsen (New York : Putnam, 1980, c1979), p.459.
[7] Olav Bjaaland, diary, 8 December, 1911, quoted by Roland Huntford in Race for the South Pole : the expedition diaries of Scott and Amundsen (London : Continuum, c2010), p.170.
[8] Roald Amundsen Bildearkiv, Nasjonalbiblioteket.
[9] Kristian Prestrud, "The Eastern Sledge Journey", in Roald Amundsen's The South Pole, ch.15. Note that the date is given as 8th December; see Hinks' note on dates in "The Observations of Amundsen and Scott at the South Pole" (The Geographical Journal, April 1944, p.169).
December 6, 2011
Wednesday, 6 December 1911
Scott
The blizzard showed no signs of abating.
"When I swung the thermometer this morning," Bowers wrote, "I looked and looked again, but unmistakably the temperature was +33°F., above freezing point (out of the sun's direct rays) for the first time since we came down here. What this means to us nobody can conceive. We try to treat it as a huge joke, but our wretched condition might be amusing to read of it later. We are wet through, our tents are wet, our bags which are our life to us and the objects of our greatest care, are wet; the poor ponies are soaked and shivering far more than they would be ordinarily in a temperature fifty degrees lower. Our sledges -- the parts that are dug out -- are wet, our food is wet, everything on and around and about us is the same -- wet as ourselves and our cold, clammy clothes. Water trickles down the tent poles and only forms icicles in contact with the snow floor. The warmth of our bodies has formed a snow bath in the floor for each of us to lie in. This is a nice little catchwater for stray streams to run into before they freeze. This they cannot do while a warm human lies there, so they remain liquid and the accommodating bag mops them up. When we go out to do the duties of life, fill the cooker, etc., for the next meal, dig out or feed the ponies, or anything else, we are bunged up with snow. Not the driving, sandlike snow we are used to, but great slushy flakes that run down in water immediately and stream off you. The drifts are tremendous, the rest of the show is indescribable. I feel most for the unfortunate animals and am thankful that poor old Victor is spared this. I mended a pair of half mitts to-day, and we are having two meals instead of three. This idleness when one is simply jumping to go on is bad enough for most, but must be worse for Captain Scott. I feel glad that he has Dr. Bill in his tent; there is something always so reassuring about Bill, he comes out best in adversity." [1]
Amundsen
"Can see absolutely nothing at all," wrote Amundsen. "Despite this we have done our 20 nautical miles and consequently have passed 88° S Lat. Are now at 88°9' by dead reckoning." [2]
They did not lay the usual depot, as Amundsen wanted to pass Shackleton's record of 88°23' the next day, and get within a hundred miles of the Pole.
"Snowstorm from the East, going sticky, my dogs dead tired.... Degree pudding this evening," Bjaaland added gratefully. [3]
Notes:
[1] H.R. Bowers, diary, [6 December, 1911], quoted by Apsley Cherry-Garrard in The Worst Journey in the World, ch.IX.
[2] Roald Amundsen, diary, 7 December, 1911, quoted by Roland Huntford in Race for the South Pole : the expedition diaries of Scott and Amundsen (London : Continuum, c2010), p.167.
[3] Olav Bjaaland, diary, 7 December, 1911, quoted by Roland Huntford in Race for the South Pole : the expedition diaries of Scott and Amundsen (London : Continuum, c2010), p.167.
The blizzard showed no signs of abating.
"When I swung the thermometer this morning," Bowers wrote, "I looked and looked again, but unmistakably the temperature was +33°F., above freezing point (out of the sun's direct rays) for the first time since we came down here. What this means to us nobody can conceive. We try to treat it as a huge joke, but our wretched condition might be amusing to read of it later. We are wet through, our tents are wet, our bags which are our life to us and the objects of our greatest care, are wet; the poor ponies are soaked and shivering far more than they would be ordinarily in a temperature fifty degrees lower. Our sledges -- the parts that are dug out -- are wet, our food is wet, everything on and around and about us is the same -- wet as ourselves and our cold, clammy clothes. Water trickles down the tent poles and only forms icicles in contact with the snow floor. The warmth of our bodies has formed a snow bath in the floor for each of us to lie in. This is a nice little catchwater for stray streams to run into before they freeze. This they cannot do while a warm human lies there, so they remain liquid and the accommodating bag mops them up. When we go out to do the duties of life, fill the cooker, etc., for the next meal, dig out or feed the ponies, or anything else, we are bunged up with snow. Not the driving, sandlike snow we are used to, but great slushy flakes that run down in water immediately and stream off you. The drifts are tremendous, the rest of the show is indescribable. I feel most for the unfortunate animals and am thankful that poor old Victor is spared this. I mended a pair of half mitts to-day, and we are having two meals instead of three. This idleness when one is simply jumping to go on is bad enough for most, but must be worse for Captain Scott. I feel glad that he has Dr. Bill in his tent; there is something always so reassuring about Bill, he comes out best in adversity." [1]
Amundsen
"Can see absolutely nothing at all," wrote Amundsen. "Despite this we have done our 20 nautical miles and consequently have passed 88° S Lat. Are now at 88°9' by dead reckoning." [2]
They did not lay the usual depot, as Amundsen wanted to pass Shackleton's record of 88°23' the next day, and get within a hundred miles of the Pole.
"Snowstorm from the East, going sticky, my dogs dead tired.... Degree pudding this evening," Bjaaland added gratefully. [3]
Notes:
[1] H.R. Bowers, diary, [6 December, 1911], quoted by Apsley Cherry-Garrard in The Worst Journey in the World, ch.IX.
[2] Roald Amundsen, diary, 7 December, 1911, quoted by Roland Huntford in Race for the South Pole : the expedition diaries of Scott and Amundsen (London : Continuum, c2010), p.167.
[3] Olav Bjaaland, diary, 7 December, 1911, quoted by Roland Huntford in Race for the South Pole : the expedition diaries of Scott and Amundsen (London : Continuum, c2010), p.167.
December 5, 2011
Tuesday, 5 December 1911
Scott
A blizzard halted their progress. "After a minute or two in the open," Scott wrote, "one is covered from head to foot. The temperature is high, so that what falls or drives against one sticks. The ponies -- head, tails, legs, and all parts not protected by their rugs -- are covered with ice; the animals are standing deep in snow, the sledges are almost covered, and huge drifts above the tents. We have had breakfast, rebuilt the walls, and are now again in our bags. One cannot see the next tent, let alone the land. What on earth does such weather mean at this time of year?" [1]
Suddenly-warm temperatures -- + 27° to 31° -- meant that the snow melted as it fell, soaking everything, tents, clothes, boots, and sleeping-bags.
"Is there some widespread atmospheric disturbance which will be felt everywhere in this region as a bad season, or are we merely the victims of exceptional local conditions?" Scott wrote in frustration, as Wilson read "In Memoriam" and Silas Wright was buried in Little Dorrit. "If the latter, there is food for thought in picturing our small party struggling against adversity in one place whilst others go smilingly forward in the sunshine. How great may be the element of luck! No foresight -- no procedure -- could have prepared us for this state of affairs. Had we been ten times as experienced or certain of our aim we should not have expected such rebuffs."
Bowers, though, remained cheerfully optimistic. At most, he wrote, "the delay will mean nothing worse than a little short commons on our return journey, a trifling matter." [2]
Amundsen
The fog still kept their visibility to almost nil. "H[elmer] H[anssen] has to drive ahead with his dog team. Hass. and I, who otherwise would take turns in going ahead [on ski], cannot do so in this kind of weather, since we would simply come a cropper on the sastrugi. Some of these are quite big -- but nothing to make a song and dance about. With a little exhortation, the dogs take the sledges over with flying colours. If we had to pull ourselves, it would have been a dangerous job." [3]
"The Devil's own sastrugi terrain," wrote Bjaaland with feeling, "up to 6-7 feet high. H[anssen] and W[isting] upset their loads. Put 20 nautical miles behind us, it wears you out going and fussing with the dogs all day, scanty dinner and ditto chocolate. 10800 ft. asl [above sea level, 3292 m]." [4]
Sources:
[1] R.F. Scott, diary, 5 December, 1911, quoted in Scott's Last Expedition : the Journals, v.1.
[2] H.R. Bowers, diary, [date not given], quoted by Roland Huntford in Scott and Amundsen (New York : Putnam, 1980, c1979), p.462.
[3] Roald Amundsen, diary, 6 December, 1911, quoted by Roland Huntford in Race for the South Pole : the expedition diaries of Scott and Amundsen (London : Continuum, c2010), p.166.
[4] Olav Bjaaland, diary, 6 December, 1911, quoted by Roland Huntford in Race for the South Pole : the expedition diaries of Scott and Amundsen (London : Continuum, c2010), p.166. Twenty nautical miles equal 23 statute miles, or 3704 km.
A blizzard halted their progress. "After a minute or two in the open," Scott wrote, "one is covered from head to foot. The temperature is high, so that what falls or drives against one sticks. The ponies -- head, tails, legs, and all parts not protected by their rugs -- are covered with ice; the animals are standing deep in snow, the sledges are almost covered, and huge drifts above the tents. We have had breakfast, rebuilt the walls, and are now again in our bags. One cannot see the next tent, let alone the land. What on earth does such weather mean at this time of year?" [1]
Suddenly-warm temperatures -- + 27° to 31° -- meant that the snow melted as it fell, soaking everything, tents, clothes, boots, and sleeping-bags.
"Is there some widespread atmospheric disturbance which will be felt everywhere in this region as a bad season, or are we merely the victims of exceptional local conditions?" Scott wrote in frustration, as Wilson read "In Memoriam" and Silas Wright was buried in Little Dorrit. "If the latter, there is food for thought in picturing our small party struggling against adversity in one place whilst others go smilingly forward in the sunshine. How great may be the element of luck! No foresight -- no procedure -- could have prepared us for this state of affairs. Had we been ten times as experienced or certain of our aim we should not have expected such rebuffs."
Bowers, though, remained cheerfully optimistic. At most, he wrote, "the delay will mean nothing worse than a little short commons on our return journey, a trifling matter." [2]
Amundsen
The fog still kept their visibility to almost nil. "H[elmer] H[anssen] has to drive ahead with his dog team. Hass. and I, who otherwise would take turns in going ahead [on ski], cannot do so in this kind of weather, since we would simply come a cropper on the sastrugi. Some of these are quite big -- but nothing to make a song and dance about. With a little exhortation, the dogs take the sledges over with flying colours. If we had to pull ourselves, it would have been a dangerous job." [3]
"The Devil's own sastrugi terrain," wrote Bjaaland with feeling, "up to 6-7 feet high. H[anssen] and W[isting] upset their loads. Put 20 nautical miles behind us, it wears you out going and fussing with the dogs all day, scanty dinner and ditto chocolate. 10800 ft. asl [above sea level, 3292 m]." [4]
Sources:
[1] R.F. Scott, diary, 5 December, 1911, quoted in Scott's Last Expedition : the Journals, v.1.
[2] H.R. Bowers, diary, [date not given], quoted by Roland Huntford in Scott and Amundsen (New York : Putnam, 1980, c1979), p.462.
[3] Roald Amundsen, diary, 6 December, 1911, quoted by Roland Huntford in Race for the South Pole : the expedition diaries of Scott and Amundsen (London : Continuum, c2010), p.166.
[4] Olav Bjaaland, diary, 6 December, 1911, quoted by Roland Huntford in Race for the South Pole : the expedition diaries of Scott and Amundsen (London : Continuum, c2010), p.166. Twenty nautical miles equal 23 statute miles, or 3704 km.
December 4, 2011
Monday, 4 December 1911
Scott
As the party neared the edge of the Barrier, Oates wrote in his diary, "Saw several enormous glaciers coming down between the mountains, and some of the chasms which stopped Shackleton. And now one is here one can realise what a wonderful journey his was and the daring which prompted him to strike up the glacier instead of following the coastline." [1]
"The dogs came up with us as we camped last night," Scott wrote, "and the man-haulers arrived this morning as we finished the pony wall. So we are all together again. The latter had great difficulty in following our tracks, and say they could not have steered a course without them. It is utterly impossible to push ahead in this weather, and one is at a complete loss to account for it. The barometer rose from 29.4 to 29.9 last night, a phenomenal rise. Evidently there is very great disturbance of atmospheric conditions. Well, one must stick it out, that is all, and hope for better things, but it makes me feel a little bitter to contrast such weather with that experienced by our predecessors." [2]
Scott had got from Priestley Frank Wild's diary of their polar journey, and based his own times, weights, and rations on that performance. Priestley recalled much later, "I've always thought of Shackleton acting as a ghostly pace-maker for Scott, and that diary having a considerable psychological effect." [3]
Bowers was "prognosticating good signs out of everything to cheer up Captain Scott, who naturally feels a bit down on his luck.... The Owner was in quite a paddy with the weather, and said we had not had a piece of good luck since we started." [4]
"We have only lost 5 or 6 miles on these two wretched days," Scott wrote, "but the disturbed condition of the weather makes me anxious with regard to the Glacier, where more than anywhere we shall need fine days. One has a horrid feeling that this is a real bad season. However, sufficient for the day is the evil thereof. We are practically through with the first stage of our journey. Looking from the last camp towards the S.S.E., where the farthest land can be seen, it seemed more than probable that a very high latitude could be reached on the Barrier, and if Amundsen journeying that way has a stroke of luck, he may well find his summit journey reduced to 100 miles or so. In any case it is a fascinating direction for next year's work if only fresh transport arrives." [5]
Bowers, though, wrote, "Amundsen has probably reached the Pole by now. I hope he has not, as I regard him as a sneaking, back-handed ruffian." [6]
Cherry's pony Michael was shot after they made evening camp.
Amundsen
"Have gone completely blind all day," wrote Amundsen. "Breeze from N. with thick drift, and greater, more constant snowfall than I have yet seen in these regions." Despite large sastrugi that capsized the sledges a number of times, "we have worked our way ahead by 20 nautical miles in this impenetrable weather, and at the moment are 10,200 ft. asl. [above sea level, 3109 m] by boiling point." [7]
Notes:
[1] L.E.G. Oates, diary, 4 December, 1911, quoted by Roland Huntford in Scott and Amundsen (New York : Putnam, 1980, c1979), p.428.
[2] R.F. Scott, diary, 4 December, 1911, quoted in Scott's Last Expedition : the Journals, v.1.
[3] Raymond Priestley, quoted by David Crane in Scott of the Antarctic (New York : Knopf, c2005), p.467.
[4] H.R. Bowers, diary, 4 December, 1911, quoted by Roland Huntford in Scott and Amundsen (New York : Putnam, 1980, c1979), p.462.
[5] R.F. Scott, diary, 4 December, 1911, quoted in Scott's Last Expedition : the Journals, v.1.
[6] H.R. Bowers, diary, [date not given], quoted by Roland Huntford in Scott and Amundsen (New York : Putnam, 1980, c1979), p.462.
[7] Roald Amundsen, diary, 5 December, 1911, quoted by Roland Huntford in Race for the South Pole : the expedition diaries of Scott and Amundsen (London : Continuum, c2010), p.164.
As the party neared the edge of the Barrier, Oates wrote in his diary, "Saw several enormous glaciers coming down between the mountains, and some of the chasms which stopped Shackleton. And now one is here one can realise what a wonderful journey his was and the daring which prompted him to strike up the glacier instead of following the coastline." [1]
"The dogs came up with us as we camped last night," Scott wrote, "and the man-haulers arrived this morning as we finished the pony wall. So we are all together again. The latter had great difficulty in following our tracks, and say they could not have steered a course without them. It is utterly impossible to push ahead in this weather, and one is at a complete loss to account for it. The barometer rose from 29.4 to 29.9 last night, a phenomenal rise. Evidently there is very great disturbance of atmospheric conditions. Well, one must stick it out, that is all, and hope for better things, but it makes me feel a little bitter to contrast such weather with that experienced by our predecessors." [2]
Scott had got from Priestley Frank Wild's diary of their polar journey, and based his own times, weights, and rations on that performance. Priestley recalled much later, "I've always thought of Shackleton acting as a ghostly pace-maker for Scott, and that diary having a considerable psychological effect." [3]
Bowers was "prognosticating good signs out of everything to cheer up Captain Scott, who naturally feels a bit down on his luck.... The Owner was in quite a paddy with the weather, and said we had not had a piece of good luck since we started." [4]
"We have only lost 5 or 6 miles on these two wretched days," Scott wrote, "but the disturbed condition of the weather makes me anxious with regard to the Glacier, where more than anywhere we shall need fine days. One has a horrid feeling that this is a real bad season. However, sufficient for the day is the evil thereof. We are practically through with the first stage of our journey. Looking from the last camp towards the S.S.E., where the farthest land can be seen, it seemed more than probable that a very high latitude could be reached on the Barrier, and if Amundsen journeying that way has a stroke of luck, he may well find his summit journey reduced to 100 miles or so. In any case it is a fascinating direction for next year's work if only fresh transport arrives." [5]
Bowers, though, wrote, "Amundsen has probably reached the Pole by now. I hope he has not, as I regard him as a sneaking, back-handed ruffian." [6]
Cherry's pony Michael was shot after they made evening camp.
Amundsen
"Have gone completely blind all day," wrote Amundsen. "Breeze from N. with thick drift, and greater, more constant snowfall than I have yet seen in these regions." Despite large sastrugi that capsized the sledges a number of times, "we have worked our way ahead by 20 nautical miles in this impenetrable weather, and at the moment are 10,200 ft. asl. [above sea level, 3109 m] by boiling point." [7]
Notes:
[1] L.E.G. Oates, diary, 4 December, 1911, quoted by Roland Huntford in Scott and Amundsen (New York : Putnam, 1980, c1979), p.428.
[2] R.F. Scott, diary, 4 December, 1911, quoted in Scott's Last Expedition : the Journals, v.1.
[3] Raymond Priestley, quoted by David Crane in Scott of the Antarctic (New York : Knopf, c2005), p.467.
[4] H.R. Bowers, diary, 4 December, 1911, quoted by Roland Huntford in Scott and Amundsen (New York : Putnam, 1980, c1979), p.462.
[5] R.F. Scott, diary, 4 December, 1911, quoted in Scott's Last Expedition : the Journals, v.1.
[6] H.R. Bowers, diary, [date not given], quoted by Roland Huntford in Scott and Amundsen (New York : Putnam, 1980, c1979), p.462.
[7] Roald Amundsen, diary, 5 December, 1911, quoted by Roland Huntford in Race for the South Pole : the expedition diaries of Scott and Amundsen (London : Continuum, c2010), p.164.
December 3, 2011
Sunday, 3 December 1911
Scott
"Our luck in weather is preposterous," wrote Scott. "It was thick and snowy, yet we could have got on; but at breakfast the wind increased, and by 4.30 it was blowing a full gale from the south. The pony wall blew down, huge drifts collected, and the sledges were quickly buried. It was the strongest wind I have known here in summer." [1] By eleven it had begun to clear, and they had lunch and prepared to start.
"We were off at 2 P.M., the land showing all round, and, but for some cloud to the S.E., everything promising. At 2.15 I saw the south-easterly cloud spreading up; it blotted out the land 30 miles away at 2.30 and was on us before 3. The sun went out, snow fell thickly, and marching conditions became horrible. The wind increased from the S.E., changed to S.W., where it hung for a time, and suddenly shifted to W.N.W. and then N.N.W., from which direction it is now blowing with falling and drifting snow. The changes of conditions are inconceivably rapid, perfectly bewildering. In spite of all these difficulties we have managed to get 11 1/2 miles south and to this camp at 7 P.M. -- the conditions of marching simply horrible."
"The man-haulers," he added, "led out 6 miles (geo.) and then camped. I think they had had enough of leading. We passed them, Bowers and I ahead on ski."
Amundsen
At the edge of the plateau, they came upon what they called "The Devil's Dance-Floor" (later called the Devil's Ballroom).
"First we had to cross ... mirror-smooth ice with filled crevasses here and there," wrote Amundsen in his diary. "This ... was not difficult to cross.... Naturally, there was no question of using ski. We all had to support the sledges and help the dogs. The next terrain offered good going, and we congratulated ourselves on having overcome all difficulties. But no! We were not going to get off so lightly. [We encountered] a violent disturbance [in the ice]. Suddenly one of the runners of Wisting's sledge broke through to a bottomless crevasse.... We were able to hoist it up again without damage.... We got through safe and sound and climbed up on a rise. This again consisted of bare ice, but then we discovered it to be filled with hidden crevasses, where we could not set our foot anywhere without breaking through." [3]
"Luckily most of the crevasses were filled, but some were dangerous enough. It was hard work for the dogs. Bjaaland fell through, but managed to hold on to his sledge, otherwise he would have been irrevocably lost.... We finally got over, and little by little [the terrain] changed to the real plateau, without any disturbance.... No more chasms or crevasses --"
Notes:
[1] R.F. Scott, diary, 3 December, 1911, quoted in Scott's Last Expedition, v.1.
[2] United States Geological Survey, "Liv Glacier" map.
[3] Roald Amundsen, diary, 4 December, 1911, quoted by Roland Huntford in The Amundsen Photographs (London : Hodder & Stoughton, c1987, p.127.
"Our luck in weather is preposterous," wrote Scott. "It was thick and snowy, yet we could have got on; but at breakfast the wind increased, and by 4.30 it was blowing a full gale from the south. The pony wall blew down, huge drifts collected, and the sledges were quickly buried. It was the strongest wind I have known here in summer." [1] By eleven it had begun to clear, and they had lunch and prepared to start.
"We were off at 2 P.M., the land showing all round, and, but for some cloud to the S.E., everything promising. At 2.15 I saw the south-easterly cloud spreading up; it blotted out the land 30 miles away at 2.30 and was on us before 3. The sun went out, snow fell thickly, and marching conditions became horrible. The wind increased from the S.E., changed to S.W., where it hung for a time, and suddenly shifted to W.N.W. and then N.N.W., from which direction it is now blowing with falling and drifting snow. The changes of conditions are inconceivably rapid, perfectly bewildering. In spite of all these difficulties we have managed to get 11 1/2 miles south and to this camp at 7 P.M. -- the conditions of marching simply horrible."
"The man-haulers," he added, "led out 6 miles (geo.) and then camped. I think they had had enough of leading. We passed them, Bowers and I ahead on ski."
Amundsen
A 1965 map of part of the Queen Maud range and the edge of the Polar plateau, from aerial photographs taken 1960-1964 by the USGS. The top of the Axel Heiberg Glacier is near the centre at the right edge of the map; the Devil's Glacier and Ballroom are not marked. [2]
At the edge of the plateau, they came upon what they called "The Devil's Dance-Floor" (later called the Devil's Ballroom).
"First we had to cross ... mirror-smooth ice with filled crevasses here and there," wrote Amundsen in his diary. "This ... was not difficult to cross.... Naturally, there was no question of using ski. We all had to support the sledges and help the dogs. The next terrain offered good going, and we congratulated ourselves on having overcome all difficulties. But no! We were not going to get off so lightly. [We encountered] a violent disturbance [in the ice]. Suddenly one of the runners of Wisting's sledge broke through to a bottomless crevasse.... We were able to hoist it up again without damage.... We got through safe and sound and climbed up on a rise. This again consisted of bare ice, but then we discovered it to be filled with hidden crevasses, where we could not set our foot anywhere without breaking through." [3]
"Luckily most of the crevasses were filled, but some were dangerous enough. It was hard work for the dogs. Bjaaland fell through, but managed to hold on to his sledge, otherwise he would have been irrevocably lost.... We finally got over, and little by little [the terrain] changed to the real plateau, without any disturbance.... No more chasms or crevasses --"
Notes:
[1] R.F. Scott, diary, 3 December, 1911, quoted in Scott's Last Expedition, v.1.
[2] United States Geological Survey, "Liv Glacier" map.
[3] Roald Amundsen, diary, 4 December, 1911, quoted by Roland Huntford in The Amundsen Photographs (London : Hodder & Stoughton, c1987, p.127.
December 2, 2011
Saturday, 2 December 1911
Scott
Bowers' pony was shot in the evening. "It seemed an awful pity to have to shoot a great strong animal," he mourned, "and it seemed like the irony of fate to me, as I had been downed for over-provisioning the ponies with needless excess of food, and the drastic reductions had been made against my strenuous opposition up to the last. It is poor satisfaction to me to know that I was right now that my horse is dead. Good old Victor! He has always had a biscuit out of my ration, and he ate his last before the bullet sent him to his rest.... He has done his share in our undertaking anyhow, and may I do my share as well when I get into harness myself." [2]
"Oates came into my tent yesterday," noted Scott, "exchanging with Cherry-Garrard. The lists now: Self, Wilson, Oates, and Keohane. Bowers, P.O. Evans, Cherry and Crean. Man-haulers: E. R. Evans, Atkinson, Wright, and Lashly. We have all taken to horse meat and are so well fed that hunger isn't thought of." [3]
"Hope I do not stay long in Teddy's tent," Wright grumbled, "am sure to have a row sooner or later." [4]
Amundsen
A lull in the weather brought them out on a rest day. They took a reading which gave their position as 86° 47', and set off, but the surface was so broken and crevassed that they had to double and sometimes triple up on the sledges. After only two miles, still in thick fog, they gave up and made camp.
Amundsen later recalled later the routine of camp: "Let us cast a glance into the tent this evening. It looks cosy enough. The inner half of the tent is occupied by three sleeping-bags, whose respective owners have found it both comfortable and expedient to turn in, and may now be seen engaged with their diaries. The outer half -- that nearest the door -- has only two sleeping-bags, but the rest of the space is taken up with the whole cooking apparatus of the expedition. The owners of these two bags are still sitting up. Hanssen is cook, and will not turn in until the food is ready and served. Wisting is his sworn comrade and assistant, and is ready to lend him any aid that may be required. Hanssen appears to be a careful cook; he evidently does not like to burn the food, and his spoon stirs the contents of the pot incessantly. 'Soup!' The effect of the word is instantaneous. Everyone sits up at once with a cup in one hand and a spoon in the other. Each one in his turn has his cup filled with what looks like the most tasty vegetable soup. Scalding hot it is, as one can see by the faces, but for all that it disappears with surprising rapidity. Again the cups are filled, this time with more solid stuff pemmican. With praiseworthy despatch their contents are once more demolished, and they are filled for the third time. There is nothing the matter with these men's appetites. The cups are carefully scraped, and the enjoyment of bread and water begins. It is easy to see, too, that it is an enjoyment -- greater, to judge by the pleasure on their faces, than the most skilfully devised menu could afford. They positively caress the biscuits before they eat them. And the water -- ice-cold water they all call for -- this also disappears in great quantities, and procures, I feel certain from their expression, a far greater pleasure and satisfaction than the finest wine that was ever produced. The Primus hums softly during the whole meal, and the temperature in the tent is quite pleasant.
"When the meal is over, one of them calls for scissors and looking-glass, and then one may see the Polar explorers dressing their hair for the approaching Sunday. The beard is cut quite short with the clipper every Saturday evening; this is done not so much from motives of vanity as from considerations of utility and comfort. The beard invites an accumulation of ice, which may often be very embarrassing. A beard in the Polar regions seems to me to be just as awkward and unpractical as -- well, let us say, walking with a tall hat on each foot. As the beard-clipper and the mirror make their round, one after the other disappears into his bag, and with five 'Good-nights,' silence falls upon the tent. The regular breathing soon announces that the day's work demands its tribute. Meanwhile the south-easter howls, and the snow beats against the tent. The dogs have curled themselves up, and do not seem to trouble themselves about the weather." [5]
Away to the north-east, the three men of Prestrud's Eastern Party were arriving at the Alexandra Mountains. Snow and mist had barred most of their surroundings along the way.
“As we approached the summit and our view over the surrounding ground became wider, the belief that we should see so much as a crag of this King Edward Land grew weaker and weaker. There was nothing but white on every side, not a single consolatory little black patch, however carefully we looked. And to think that we had been dreaming of great mountain masses in the style of McMurdo Sound, with sunny slopes, penguins by the thousand, seals and all the rest! All these visions were slowly but surely sunk in an endless sea of snow, and when at last we stood on the highest point, we certainly thought there could be no chance of a revival of our hopes.”
But there was land.
“A sailor, who for months has seen nothing but sea and sky, will lose himself in contemplation of a little islet, be it never so barren and desolate. To us, who for nearly a year had been staring our eyes out in a dazzling white infinity of snow and ice, it was indeed an experience to see once more a bit of the earth’s crust. That this fragment was as poor and bare as it could be was not taken into consideration at the moment.”
They searched eagerly and diligently for fossils, but found none. But "while it did not fall to our lot," Prestrud added, "to furnish any proof of the existence of an earlier flora in King Edward Land, we found living plants of the most primitive form. Even on that tiny islet in the ocean of snow the rock was in many places covered with thick moss. How did that moss come there?"
Notes:
[1] "The Lost Photographs of Captain Scott", 5 October 2011, Guardian.co.uk. Scott noted in his diary for this day, "The ponies went poorly on the first march, when there was little or no wind and a high temperature. They were sinking deep on a wretched surface. I suggested to Oates that he should have a roving commission to watch the animals, but he much preferred to lead one, so I handed over Snippets very willingly and went on ski myself. It was very easy work for me and I took several photographs of the ponies plunging along."
[2] H.R. Bowers, quoted by Apsley Cherry-Garrard in The Worst Journey in the World, v.2.
[3] R.F. Scott, diary, 2 December, 1911, quoted in Scott's Last Expedition : the Journals, v.1.
[4] Charles Wright, diary, 2 December 1911, quoted by David Crane in Scott of the Antarctic (New York : Knopf, c2005), p.466.
[5] Roald Amundsen, The South Pole, ch.11.
[6] Kristian Prestrud, "The Eastern Sledge Journey", in Roald Amundsen's The South Pole, ch.15. The date is unclear, but probably according to other dates in this chapter 3rd December, actually 2nd; see Hinks' note on dates in "The Observations of Amundsen and Scott at the South Pole" (The Geographical Journal, April 1944, p.169).
Ponies on the march, 2 December 1911, in a photograph by Scott. [1]
Bowers' pony was shot in the evening. "It seemed an awful pity to have to shoot a great strong animal," he mourned, "and it seemed like the irony of fate to me, as I had been downed for over-provisioning the ponies with needless excess of food, and the drastic reductions had been made against my strenuous opposition up to the last. It is poor satisfaction to me to know that I was right now that my horse is dead. Good old Victor! He has always had a biscuit out of my ration, and he ate his last before the bullet sent him to his rest.... He has done his share in our undertaking anyhow, and may I do my share as well when I get into harness myself." [2]
"Oates came into my tent yesterday," noted Scott, "exchanging with Cherry-Garrard. The lists now: Self, Wilson, Oates, and Keohane. Bowers, P.O. Evans, Cherry and Crean. Man-haulers: E. R. Evans, Atkinson, Wright, and Lashly. We have all taken to horse meat and are so well fed that hunger isn't thought of." [3]
"Hope I do not stay long in Teddy's tent," Wright grumbled, "am sure to have a row sooner or later." [4]
Amundsen
A lull in the weather brought them out on a rest day. They took a reading which gave their position as 86° 47', and set off, but the surface was so broken and crevassed that they had to double and sometimes triple up on the sledges. After only two miles, still in thick fog, they gave up and made camp.
Amundsen later recalled later the routine of camp: "Let us cast a glance into the tent this evening. It looks cosy enough. The inner half of the tent is occupied by three sleeping-bags, whose respective owners have found it both comfortable and expedient to turn in, and may now be seen engaged with their diaries. The outer half -- that nearest the door -- has only two sleeping-bags, but the rest of the space is taken up with the whole cooking apparatus of the expedition. The owners of these two bags are still sitting up. Hanssen is cook, and will not turn in until the food is ready and served. Wisting is his sworn comrade and assistant, and is ready to lend him any aid that may be required. Hanssen appears to be a careful cook; he evidently does not like to burn the food, and his spoon stirs the contents of the pot incessantly. 'Soup!' The effect of the word is instantaneous. Everyone sits up at once with a cup in one hand and a spoon in the other. Each one in his turn has his cup filled with what looks like the most tasty vegetable soup. Scalding hot it is, as one can see by the faces, but for all that it disappears with surprising rapidity. Again the cups are filled, this time with more solid stuff pemmican. With praiseworthy despatch their contents are once more demolished, and they are filled for the third time. There is nothing the matter with these men's appetites. The cups are carefully scraped, and the enjoyment of bread and water begins. It is easy to see, too, that it is an enjoyment -- greater, to judge by the pleasure on their faces, than the most skilfully devised menu could afford. They positively caress the biscuits before they eat them. And the water -- ice-cold water they all call for -- this also disappears in great quantities, and procures, I feel certain from their expression, a far greater pleasure and satisfaction than the finest wine that was ever produced. The Primus hums softly during the whole meal, and the temperature in the tent is quite pleasant.
"When the meal is over, one of them calls for scissors and looking-glass, and then one may see the Polar explorers dressing their hair for the approaching Sunday. The beard is cut quite short with the clipper every Saturday evening; this is done not so much from motives of vanity as from considerations of utility and comfort. The beard invites an accumulation of ice, which may often be very embarrassing. A beard in the Polar regions seems to me to be just as awkward and unpractical as -- well, let us say, walking with a tall hat on each foot. As the beard-clipper and the mirror make their round, one after the other disappears into his bag, and with five 'Good-nights,' silence falls upon the tent. The regular breathing soon announces that the day's work demands its tribute. Meanwhile the south-easter howls, and the snow beats against the tent. The dogs have curled themselves up, and do not seem to trouble themselves about the weather." [5]
Away to the north-east, the three men of Prestrud's Eastern Party were arriving at the Alexandra Mountains. Snow and mist had barred most of their surroundings along the way.
“As we approached the summit and our view over the surrounding ground became wider, the belief that we should see so much as a crag of this King Edward Land grew weaker and weaker. There was nothing but white on every side, not a single consolatory little black patch, however carefully we looked. And to think that we had been dreaming of great mountain masses in the style of McMurdo Sound, with sunny slopes, penguins by the thousand, seals and all the rest! All these visions were slowly but surely sunk in an endless sea of snow, and when at last we stood on the highest point, we certainly thought there could be no chance of a revival of our hopes.”
But there was land.
“A sailor, who for months has seen nothing but sea and sky, will lose himself in contemplation of a little islet, be it never so barren and desolate. To us, who for nearly a year had been staring our eyes out in a dazzling white infinity of snow and ice, it was indeed an experience to see once more a bit of the earth’s crust. That this fragment was as poor and bare as it could be was not taken into consideration at the moment.”
They searched eagerly and diligently for fossils, but found none. But "while it did not fall to our lot," Prestrud added, "to furnish any proof of the existence of an earlier flora in King Edward Land, we found living plants of the most primitive form. Even on that tiny islet in the ocean of snow the rock was in many places covered with thick moss. How did that moss come there?"
Notes:
[1] "The Lost Photographs of Captain Scott", 5 October 2011, Guardian.co.uk. Scott noted in his diary for this day, "The ponies went poorly on the first march, when there was little or no wind and a high temperature. They were sinking deep on a wretched surface. I suggested to Oates that he should have a roving commission to watch the animals, but he much preferred to lead one, so I handed over Snippets very willingly and went on ski myself. It was very easy work for me and I took several photographs of the ponies plunging along."
[2] H.R. Bowers, quoted by Apsley Cherry-Garrard in The Worst Journey in the World, v.2.
[3] R.F. Scott, diary, 2 December, 1911, quoted in Scott's Last Expedition : the Journals, v.1.
[4] Charles Wright, diary, 2 December 1911, quoted by David Crane in Scott of the Antarctic (New York : Knopf, c2005), p.466.
[5] Roald Amundsen, The South Pole, ch.11.
[6] Kristian Prestrud, "The Eastern Sledge Journey", in Roald Amundsen's The South Pole, ch.15. The date is unclear, but probably according to other dates in this chapter 3rd December, actually 2nd; see Hinks' note on dates in "The Observations of Amundsen and Scott at the South Pole" (The Geographical Journal, April 1944, p.169).
December 1, 2011
Friday, 1 December 1911
Scott
"To-night against some opinion I decided Christopher must go," wrote Scott. "He has been shot; less regret goes with him than the others, in remembrance of all the trouble he gave at the outset, and the unsatisfactory way he has gone of late. Here we leave a depôt so that no extra weight is brought on the other ponies." [1]
This was the Southern (or Lower) Barrier depot, at 82° 47'.
The pony snowshoes were tried again, and Nobby "came along splendidly on them for about four miles, then the wretched affairs racked and had to be taken off. There is no doubt that these snowshoes are the thing for ponies, and had ours been able to use them from the beginning they would have been very different in appearance at this moment. I think the sight of land has helped the animals, but not much."
"We started in bright warm sunshine," he added, "and with the mountains wonderfully clear on our right hand, but towards the end of the march clouds worked up from the east and a thin broken cumulo-stratus now overspreads the sky, leaving the land still visible but dull. A fine glacier descends from Mount Longstaff. It has cut very deep and the walls stand at an angle of at least 50°. Otherwise, although there are many cwms on the lower ranges, the mountains themselves seem little carved. They are rounded massive structures. A cliff of light yellow-brown rock appears opposite us, flanked with black or dark brown rock, which also appears under the lighter colour. One would be glad to know what nature of rock these represent. There is a good deal of exposed rock on the next range also."
Amundsen
"The Devil's Nameday." The snow and drift was so thick, wrote Bjaaland, that "we couldn't see in front of our nose tips, and our faces were white and hard as wax candles.... Wisting's jaw looks like the snout of a Jersey cow. Helmer has thick scabs [from frostbite] and skin as rough as a file. It was a damned hard day, the hounds slid on the ice, and stopped when the sledges hit a sastrugi, but we forced our way 13 miles against the ... wind which burned like a flame, oh, oh what a life." [2]
"[The] plateau over which we are travelling resembles a frozen sea," Amundsen wrote, "a domed cupola of ice ... excellent going for a skater, but unfortunately unsuitable for our dogs and ourselves. I drag myself with my sticks ahead on skis. It is not easy. The dog drivers are without skis, at the side of their sledges, ready to help the animals." [3]
Notes:
[1] R.F. Scott, diary, 1 December, 1911, quoted in Scott's Last Expedition : the Journals, v.1.
[2] Olav Bjaaland, diary, 2 December, 1911, quoted by Roland Huntford in Scott and Amundsen (New York : Putnam, 1980, c1979), p.457.
[3] Roald Amundsen, diary, 2 December, 1911, quoted by Roland Huntford in Scott and Amundsen (New York : Putnam, 1980, c1979), p.457.
"To-night against some opinion I decided Christopher must go," wrote Scott. "He has been shot; less regret goes with him than the others, in remembrance of all the trouble he gave at the outset, and the unsatisfactory way he has gone of late. Here we leave a depôt so that no extra weight is brought on the other ponies." [1]
This was the Southern (or Lower) Barrier depot, at 82° 47'.
The pony snowshoes were tried again, and Nobby "came along splendidly on them for about four miles, then the wretched affairs racked and had to be taken off. There is no doubt that these snowshoes are the thing for ponies, and had ours been able to use them from the beginning they would have been very different in appearance at this moment. I think the sight of land has helped the animals, but not much."
"We started in bright warm sunshine," he added, "and with the mountains wonderfully clear on our right hand, but towards the end of the march clouds worked up from the east and a thin broken cumulo-stratus now overspreads the sky, leaving the land still visible but dull. A fine glacier descends from Mount Longstaff. It has cut very deep and the walls stand at an angle of at least 50°. Otherwise, although there are many cwms on the lower ranges, the mountains themselves seem little carved. They are rounded massive structures. A cliff of light yellow-brown rock appears opposite us, flanked with black or dark brown rock, which also appears under the lighter colour. One would be glad to know what nature of rock these represent. There is a good deal of exposed rock on the next range also."
Amundsen
"The Devil's Nameday." The snow and drift was so thick, wrote Bjaaland, that "we couldn't see in front of our nose tips, and our faces were white and hard as wax candles.... Wisting's jaw looks like the snout of a Jersey cow. Helmer has thick scabs [from frostbite] and skin as rough as a file. It was a damned hard day, the hounds slid on the ice, and stopped when the sledges hit a sastrugi, but we forced our way 13 miles against the ... wind which burned like a flame, oh, oh what a life." [2]
"[The] plateau over which we are travelling resembles a frozen sea," Amundsen wrote, "a domed cupola of ice ... excellent going for a skater, but unfortunately unsuitable for our dogs and ourselves. I drag myself with my sticks ahead on skis. It is not easy. The dog drivers are without skis, at the side of their sledges, ready to help the animals." [3]
Notes:
[1] R.F. Scott, diary, 1 December, 1911, quoted in Scott's Last Expedition : the Journals, v.1.
[2] Olav Bjaaland, diary, 2 December, 1911, quoted by Roland Huntford in Scott and Amundsen (New York : Putnam, 1980, c1979), p.457.
[3] Roald Amundsen, diary, 2 December, 1911, quoted by Roland Huntford in Scott and Amundsen (New York : Putnam, 1980, c1979), p.457.
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