Chapter VI: Making Winter Quarters at Cape Evans (9)

The 21st of August was a calm, clear day. The sun was due in a day or
two now. Nelson was having some trouble with his soundings at the
“Igloo.” So seven of us marched out to help him free his rope. It was
quite a procession, Nelson going first to fix a block and tackle
(pronounced _taikle_!) on his obdurate rope. Then Atkinson and
Clissold—who worked the fish trap, and so were professionals in such
jobs—walked along in a dignified way. Then long Day on ski, followed
by Debenham also on ski, and causing some amusement by his “croppers.”
Finally, “Trigger” Gran started long after us, and “flapping” along on
his ski easily caught us up. I could easily keep up over a couple of
miles without ski, but over a longer distance there is no doubt as to
the advantage of the ski. We all hauled on the “taikle,” and so broke
Nelson’s rope away from the bottom, where it seemed to have frozen in.
Then dropping the “earth” wire of his telephone circuit into the water
I rang up Simpson in the hut, and heard him with great ease through
the bare aluminium surface wire.

Debenham and I climbed Inaccessible Isle to try and see the sun first.
We went up by the usual route, but had to kick steps in the thick snow
which now covered the gravel slopes. There is a magnificent windblown
gravel ridge on the lee side of Inaccessible Isle. The blizzards shoot
_up_ the southern face and drop their dust contents beyond the central
notch on the northern slope in the form of a long ridge about fifty
feet high.

We obtained a fine view of the western cwm valleys below Mount Lister
from this elevation (520 feet). To the north we could see a bright
glow over the Barne Glacier and good sun shadows on Mount Lister, the
first time for four months! But we did not see the sun’s disc at all.

The sun was due on August 22, so it was natural that a blizzard should
spoil all chances of seeing him! We took him on trust to the extent of
champagne at lunch, when Scott toasted Lieutenant Campbell’s birthday
also.

“A snorting blizzard; never saw such thick drift. It wet one, so that
one’s hands froze in no time. None went outside the hut.”

The table resembled a grocer’s shop from now on, for Birdie started
bagging provisions for the sledge journeys. Pemmican was taken out of
the tins, broken up, and bagged first, and then cocoa, butter, sugar,
in fact everything but biscuit, which was left in the 40-lb. tins as
sent to us.

“2.30 a.m. on the 24th.—It is now my night-watch, and I have finished
making the slides for my next lecture; I have read M. Beaucaire, had
two slices of toast, gone on the roof and cleaned out the blizzometer
tubes, and washed my feet. The sooner 3.30 arrives (and Nelson with
it) the better!

“In two months we shall be away on the veldt again. I have lots of
prints to make, and must continue my German and physiography; but I
have done about as much as I intended, and found the winter a very
pleasant and busy time. It is wonderful how exhilarating a fine day
is, though the last few days have been the limit.”

Next day it was still blizzing, with the temperature up to +11°! The
drift was lower, and Nelson managed to get out to his igloo on the
sea-ice.

Captain Scott asked Debenham and myself to map Cape Evans in
considerable detail; while Lieutenant Evans carried out the coast
survey and Wright obtained heights and ice-cliff data. As a result
Debenham and I were out with our plane tables fairly continuously in
the next few weeks and got to know almost every rock upon our little
promontory.

Wright and I climbed the Ramp in our anxiety to see if the sun was
still alive! but without avail. The clouds on Erebus were worthy of
note. During the day huge billows collected to the south below the
summit, and at 7 p.m. these disappeared, and the steam cloud (which
had hardly showed before) shot up several thousand feet and then
spread out as a banner to the _north_. This latter direction was
unusual, as the upper air currents usually went due _south_.

On our return we found that Simpson had seen the rim of the sun about
3 p.m. from Wind Vane Hill (at noon it was hidden by the Barne
Glacier), so that the meteorologist was the first to welcome His
Majesty’s return.

On the 24th I gave a lantern lecture on Polar and Temperate
Glaciation. As usual Ponting kindly made most of the lantern slides
and operated the lantern. Afterwards he showed us some of his
magnificent Swiss slides.

On the 26th I managed to improvise a satisfactory plane-table from a
telescope tripod and my drawing board. We had a spare sight-ruler, and
with this primitive instrument I successfully mapped my section of
Cape Evans.

We could always orient on far distant peaks, such as the Matterhorn,
fifty miles north-west; or Castle Rock, twelve miles south; and this
saved a lot of trouble with the usual “three-point resection” method.
I climbed up the Ramp and read “Bertram.” I could see the sun shining
on Inaccessible Isle, and even on Hut Point far to the south, but it
would need to get considerably higher before it illumined the Ramp.
Lieut. Evans was setting up signal flags on the prominent debris
cones, and we returned together _viâ_ the “Slippery Slopes,” Evans
justifying the name!

“Just before I reached the Hut I felt exactly like Peter Pan, and saw
that I had regained my shadow! I walked up to Wind Vane Hill, and
there was the old sun showing half his disc over Cape Barne Glacier!
About 2 p.m. I went out with the ‘mousetrap’ camera, and took some
photos to celebrate the event. I gave four seconds (with F. 45) on
snow banks, etc., lit by the low-lying sun. This was too much, I
believe, but the photos were fairly satisfactory and worth the trouble
considering when they were taken.”

Wilson reported some queer algæ deposits above Gully Bay, so we went
off to investigate them. There were two layers (about fifty feet above
the glacieret) in the soft kenyte gravel. I had little doubt that they
were lake algæ which had grown when the water was held in by a larger
ancestor of the present glacieret. Just to the west were beautiful
examples of these ice-dammed lakelets, with “Glenroy terraces” marking
various contours on their shores, just as in the historic Glenroy
region in Scotland. Only in these Antarctic specimens the ice dams are
still evident, whereas their absence in Scotland made the origin of
the Scotch terraces a puzzle for many years.

I have made frequent mention of the debris cones on the Ramp. Their
origin was often discussed by Scott, Wilson, Debenham, Wright, and
myself. Scott and Wilson believed they were dumped over at re-entrant
angles in a bygone ice-barrier wall. Debenham compared them to the
cones and hollows we had seen over in the western moraines and thought
they were due to the melting of submarine ice. Wright and I believed
them to be due to the weathering of huge erratics.

LAKELETS OF CAPE EVANS, SEPT. 29, 1911.

Due to glacierets of drifted snow forming across small gulleys. (The
drifts are always blown to the north.) These ice dams explain the
formation of Glenroy Terraces, Scotland. The rugged outcrops of
Kenyte Lava run chiefly east and west. The Tunnel Berg in the
sea-ice appears to the west.
]

On the 27th Gran and I made the rather obvious test of cutting one
open. It was six feet high and lay just on the edge of the steep slope
of the Ramp, whence all debris would slip down the Ramp and save
cartage. The upper face was a friable dry gravel. We heaved out two
huge blocks the size of a man’s body and found them fitting into other
blocks of the same rock. We cleared away the top portion of one half,
and then came to a huge block evidently extending to the foot of the
cone and right through it. All this was frozen stiff into the kenyte
soil of the Ramp, and it was beyond our powers to shift it. However,
we had definitely proved that this symmetrical cone was solid, and was
piled around a core of kenyte blocks.

“I met the ‘Owner’ after lunch and introduced him to the ‘dissected
cone.’ He seemed to think it a strong argument in favour of our
long-held theory. Wilson basely hit back at me for upsetting his
argument with a caricature in the _South Polar Times_, which is here
reproduced.

“The difficulty in disposing of all the instruments needed by a
geological surveyor is also hinted at in the gear encrusting the queer
object on the debris cone.”

“_August 30._—A cold day, −33° with wind. Natheless, Deb and I went
out about noon plane-tabling. I had finished my stations and carted
the table about, filling in details. But it was mostly a ‘cabman’s war
dance,’ jumping and flapping one’s arms to keep warm. I found that a
great deal of the ice-sheet to the north was only six inches thick
over gravel, the latter appearing in the eddy gutters to the south of
every big boulder.

“It got too cold to work, but I swore I would stay out as long as
Debenham. Finally, at 1.15, I could stand it no longer, and made a
beeline for the Hut, finding he had returned a minute or two earlier!”

The next few days were similarly occupied. I made a pantograph (to
reduce or enlarge drawings), and so obtained a fairly accurate plot of
all the sections of our map. The result is given herewith.

One can readily see some method now in the queer physiographic
features of Cape Evans. It can be subdivided into several zones, which
may be tabulated as follows, proceeding inland (east) towards Erebus:—

1. Kenyte cliffs and ridges, of rock _in situ_ (about fifty feet above
sea-level and chiefly to the south and west of the Cape).

2. Low-lying plains with lakes about twenty feet above sea-level, due
to erosion and deposition from 1 (chiefly in the north-east of the
cape).

A Peculiar Animal seated on the Top of a Debris Cone.
]

3. Glacierets and ice dams running north and south, and due chiefly to
drifts distributed by the southern blizzards. On the low cape and on
the Ramp also.

4. The continuous “Ramp”; a steep slope (30°) extending from “Low
Cliff” practically to Land’s End Cliff, i.e. about two miles. It
varies in height from 100 to 150 feet above sea-level. Partly composed
of rock _in situ_ and partly of moraine just uncovered by the
retreating glacier of Erebus.

Physiographic features of Cape Evans, due largely to the retreat of
the Erebus Glacier.
]

5. The boulder-strewn plateau parallel to and east of the latter, and
about 150 to 200 feet high. It is largely ground-moraine, but contains
some ancient ice masses, and is affected by soil-creep or solifluxion.

6. A zone of large blocks (with ice between) which occurs chiefly in
the north-east, and merges into the Erebus Glacier. Both 5 and 6
contain numerous debris cones, which are especially large in the
south-east over Land’s End cliffs.

7. The continuous Erebus Glacier which extends uninterruptedly from
Cape Barne to Turk’s Head, and walls in Cape Evans to the east. There
is not much movement in it just behind the cape, for there is no ice
“wall” but a gradual merging of rock and ice.

My diary proceeds as follows:—

“_September 1._—I fear I must give this a miss. Titus Oates says, ‘You
were probably caulking and coughing, or blatting. But if the latter
you’d remember!’ (These rude words refer to a slight cough that
worried me at this time. ‘Caulking’ is sleeping, and ‘blatting’ is
arguing.) The Conservatives were evidently waking up, for I note one
of Atkinson’s remarks. Colonials go to London and murmur ceaselessly,
‘Change and decay, in all around I see, Except in me, O Lord, except
in me!’ This misquotation afforded the ‘True-Blues’ (Cherry, Birdie,
Titus, and Atch) great joy about twenty times a day. We Liberals
scorned to use such feeble wit in upholding our principles.”

The next lecture was one delivered by Birdie Bowers on the Evolution
of Polar Clothing. I took fairly full notes of this lecture, which
represented much reading on Birdie’s part in our extensive library of
Polar journals.

LECTURE ON “EVOLUTION OF POLAR CLOTHING”

BY BOWERS.

_September 1, 1911._

There are many fabrics which can be used, for instance, cotton is
very satisfactory for some purposes, as we see in our windproof
overalls. Fur was naturally first used, and Ross, on his magnetic
pole expedition, was the first to employ fur sleeping-bags. Weddell
found boots a great difficulty, and had to cut up all his gear to
make new ones. Some Arctic explorers used blanket squares (sixteen
inches across) instead of socks. One must be careful not to have
boot-soles too rigid, for this induces frostbite. It is curious that
the Eskimo garments leave the skin completely bare at back and knee.

A book-plate illustrating Polar clothing.
]

Bird-skin clothes are very warm and very light. In one expedition
devices were painted on the backs of the white jackets to give the
men behind something dark to look at, and so minimize
snow-blindness.

With regard to mits, thumbless gloves are best for very cold
weather. Greely had gloves with two thumbs, so that they could be
used on either hand.

It is foolish to rub frostbites with snow, for the skin is chafed;
flannel or a bare warm hand, etc., is better. Wool absorbs
perspiration the best of all textures. White cotton does so to only
half the amount. So the latter evaporates quicker, and soon feels
chilly. Nansen says goat-hair socks attract the moisture. “Oh! as
you were!” No, I don’t mean that! (G. T.—I find I’ve omitted the
correction, however!) Personally, I think that an old sock makes an
excellent nose-nip!

Sverdrup used to use a double tent for warmth with good results. I
think we might modify the tent opening, and make the tent floorcloth
wider. If the sleeping-bags were provided with a separate hood, they
would not get so wet. On our midwinter trip we found that eiderdown
inner bags were no use after fourteen days. It was best to change
sides with the fur bags and scrape them. The hair inside was warmer,
but held the perspiration more.

The wind helmet should certainly be made fast to the blouse; and I
think lanyards fasten the bag-flaps much better than toggles. These
are the only improvements I can suggest in our clothing.

The seamen played six-handed euchre most evenings, while the two
Russians looked at illustrated papers and turned in somewhat early.
The mess deck used to read the books in the library, and especially
Debenham’s paper-backs. When I ran short I raided their small private
stock. I was assured by Taff Evans that one by Hichens “is no good,
for no one in the mess deck can read it!” Needless to say I did not
always agree with this stalwart board of navy critics.

On the 8th of September the second volume of _S. P. T._ appeared.
Cherry wrote the Editorial in the best style of the _Times_. Some
eighteen pages were devoted to a skit on life in the Hut, called the
“Bipes.” Its redeeming feature is a series of coloured illustrations
by Uncle Bill. In it I gave a somewhat garbled but recognizable view
of various personalities at headquarters. The tenants of the Diarist’s
Den (i.e. our cubicle) as well as the Conservative party (the
“Bunderlohg”) came in for their share of attention on the part of the
inquisitive rabbit; who is here supposed to observe the habits and
customs of the so-called Bipes.

Simpson contributed a gruesome account of the decline and fall of the
human race in the last days of the earth’s habitation. The only
panacea seemed to be certain elixirs to be obtained near Mount Erebus.
There was a beautifully illustrated rhyme dealing with the midwinter
party at Cape Crozier. I could never discover who was the writer
unless it was the Owner himself. Simpson’s career was described in a
semi-serious article, “Celebrities in Glass Houses.” There were two
poems called into being by the return of the sun, both due to
Australians. Some one, I suspect Nelson, wove Uncle Bill and myself
into a “nightmare interview.” There were some beautiful photo plates
by Ponting and three of Wilson’s inimitable Egyptian tablets; besides
various cartoons and silhouettes by Wilson and Lillie.

Guessing at the authors furnished considerable amusement. Even the
astute Nelson fell in! On p. 19 there is a plan of the hut showing
_inter alia_ the engine in one corner. Nelson made the rash statement
that Uncle Bill had drawn it the wrong way round. I immediately bet
him that Bill hadn’t. Nelson went over to the engine and came back
ready to stake his life on it! Then I told him that I had drawn the
plan; so that Bill couldn’t have made a mistake! He proceeded to say
that he would have put me down as the author of the “Bipes,” only I
was so unmercifully described therein; while Simpson amused me by
assuring me that Scott wrote the poem, “The Errant Sun.” I gave the
palm to Nelson’s poem on “Uncle Bill,” “You are old, Uncle William.”

Captain Scott was now preparing for a fortnight’s sledge-trip over to
the west. He proposed to Simpson that he should take this chance of
some sledging, and so the meteorology was left in my hands. Simpson
kindly coached me in the special minutiæ, and I started the records on
the 11th (before he left), so as to get into swing.

Nelson gave us a particularly well-illustrated lecture on the 11th on
Invertebrates generally.

He told us of the pleasant habit of the _hydra_ which turns itself
inside out, and converts its skin into a stomach lining, and _vice
versa_! He discussed the huge arthropod, remarkably like a flea (but
eight inches long), which Meares declared was found in a bunk in the
hut, though Ponting said he obtained it on the beach.

We envied the Pycnogonids (sea-spiders), which grow an extra pair of
legs in Antarctica, though they have only eight in less strenuous
latitudes. Two more limbs would help us so greatly in sledging! He
called on me to lecture on the corals, and I gave a brief account of
the biology of the forerunners of this family (the _Archeocyathinæ_),
which occur fossil on the Beardmore Glacier. I discussed Darwin’s and
Murray’s theories with special reference to my observations on the
coral reefs of the Great Barrier. Debenham instanced Funafuti—that
coral islet bored by Professor David to show the depth of a reef
formation. Birdie wanted to know why a sea anemone wasn’t a plant? And
some one thereupon asked Nelson if he could explain why a Birdie
wasn’t a cabbage? But this problem proved too difficult for the
lecturer.

Wilson with his usual kindness was now copying some of my western
sketches and turning them into splendid pen and ink drawings. He spent
many hours coaching me in drawing, but indeed he would always help any
one if it lay in his power. I think what touched some of us as much as
anything was his willingness to take the last and longest hour of any
one’s night-watch! He used to say, “I don’t mind getting up at seven;
I’ll get on with my painting. Just put a kettle on to boil, and wake
me, and then you can turn in!” I’m afraid I took advantage of this,
when my watch lasted through to the morning, though usually I shared
it with Nelson.

About this time Scott and Bowers spent their leisure in photographic
work. Ponting was untiring in coaching them, and the excellent results
obtained by these absolute tyros on the southern journey speaks well
for teacher and pupils. Bowers handed over the pony “Chinaman” to
Wright, who “gets run away with, with great regularity.” Cherry was
typing out those sections from the “Heart of the Antarctic” which
would help Scott in his southern journey.

On the 15th of September Captain Scott set out for a trip to the
Ferrar Glacier and thereabouts. They carried about 200 lbs. of food
for us to Butter Point, where we were to pick it up later. Nelson and
I helped them along for three miles, though the party, consisting of
Scott, Bowers, Simpson, and Taff Evans, needed us little. It was −40°
starting, but luckily there was no wind. A big shear crack about two
and a half miles out marked a permanent crack in the sea-ice extending
between Inaccessible Isle and Cape Royds. It had developed into a
fractured wall, as much as ten feet high in places, where the floes
ground together, and gave us some trouble. However, Nelson and I were
able to steady the sledge and guard the sledge-meter, and so they soon
negotiated it.

On the 17th of September we actually had a “fine bright sun, so that
films of snow melt on the black rock.” This is an interesting date,
for though the air temperature was only +7°—that is, twenty-five
degrees below freezing!—yet the radiant heat from the black rock
produced a little water.

Let us accompany the meteorologist, and see how a first-class weather
station is run at 77½° S. lat. The weather man has to rise about an
hour before the others. (It was pleasant to see Sunny Jim lying in his
bunk till 8.30 on the 14th—as he pathetically put it—for the first
time since he’d landed!) I find I am dressed five minutes too soon, so
I hit Wright with a book to get him up in time to check the
chronometers, which is his “pigeon”!

1. When I hear the automatic signal I have to fly around and mark all
the recording instruments to show exactly eight o’clock on their
charts.

2. I read the large standard barometer and its attached thermometer.

3. Change the chronograph papers and put ink on the pens, for the
blizzometer, thermograph, barograph, and wind velocity charts. (In all
these chronograph drums the “clock” part (carrying the paper) revolves
about the central axle—which is just the opposite of an ordinary
clock!)

4. Wind up the various chronograph clocks (once a week, on Monday).

Then I muffle myself in wind clothes and gloves, and collect the gear
for the outdoor apparatus.

A. A clock set to nearest half-minute.

B. Sunshine paper for the record burnt by the glass ball.

C. Tablet and pencil.

5. I stagger up to the top of Wind Vane Hill—a long operation and a
cold one in September, for it is not far from August, the coldest and
roughest month. At a definite minute I read the anemometer figures
alongside the anemometer cups.

6. Then I press four times on a button alongside, and this is
electrically transmitted to the record in the hut, and so gives a
datum each day on that record.

7. I walk across to the screen and read the three
thermometers—present, maximum, and minimum. Then I readjust the two
latter and read again.

8. By this time three minutes have elapsed, and I return a few paces
to the anemometer and read the latter figures again. (This gives the
revolutions in three minutes, and therefore the velocity per hour at
that time. This is another check on the automatic record.)

9. Read the wind direction from the arrow on the hill, and note the
steam-cloud direction on Erebus.

10. Change the blue paper in the sunshine recorder and clean the glass
sphere. This is an awful job, for the frost crystals cling like glue
to the five-inch glass ball, and have to be melted off by rubbing with
the bare hands. A slow and painful job at −40°!

11. Read the outside thermometer at the south-east corner of the hut,
just below the anemometer tubes.

A FINE STEAM CLOUD BLOWING SOUTH FROM EREBUS, SEPT. 19, 1911.

The illustration shows also the station on Wind Vane Hill. The
thermometer screen on the left, the flagstaff and the wind
instruments on the right. One anemometer is rotating; the other is
blocked (for the photo).
]

A GLACIERET NEAR ISLAND LAKE (C. EVANS) DUE TO WINDBLOWN SNOW, SEPT.
23, 1911.

The blizzard builds and also prunes these small glaciers. In the
distance are the debris cones on the ramp and the south-west slopes
of Erebus.
]

Each morning at 8.15 I used to predict the weather, as I went out to
Wind Vane Hill. This was received with great joy by the mess deck.
Crean was especially congratulatory. I have explained my method—_i.e._
“that after four days’ calm it’s certain to blizz;” and it worked as
well as most weather rules. However, even when this standby failed,
Crean was always consoling. At last the other seamen got nettled. “Go
on, sir! he’s only kidding; he wants your long sea-boots when you
return!” It was “cupboard love,” I fear!

On Thursday (21st) I believe the wind was blowing seventy miles per
hour when I reached the screen. The temperature was pretty high (-7°),
but a wind that nearly blew me away soon robbed one of one’s bodily
heat. My fingers took about ten minutes to “come back,” and only by
degrees lost their dead feeling, though they did not reach the dead
white colour of bad frostbites.

The early morning sun was throwing fine earth shadows, which moved
round quite rapidly. Thus on the 24th, at 8 a.m., Erebus cast a shadow
right over the western mountains, while at 9 a.m. the shadow could be
seen to the south-west of Erebus itself.

Debenham had been doing long-distance geology! He fixed up a telescope
and trained it on the south slope of the crater of Erebus. He could
see hundreds of snow structures on the side, each representing the
vent of a “fumarole” from which steam was issuing. This side of Erebus
must resemble a gigantic pepper-box!

Inside the hut Day was doing some ingenious turning. His lathe was
certainly unique! Many of the hardwood rollers for the motor sledges
needed renewal. So he attached a block of hardwood to the flywheel
shaft of the oil-engine, and he sat on the floor and, using a box as a
tool-rest, he turned out rollers quite successfully, if not very
rapidly.

The morning of the 24th was quite clear, so I got my camera into
working order, only to find the sky clouding over for a blizzard so
soon as I ventured out, about noon. Ponting was lost for about two
hours in the thick fog in the evening. We fired off guns, and it
looked as if Atkinson’s mishap was to be repeated. However, luckily he
had a compass, and so got back to the hut quite safely in the end.

The weather was hopeless, and the coast survey party very sensibly
returned to await better conditions. The following scurrilous rhyme
pinned to Gran’s diary affected them not a whit:—

“Three bold explorers hied them forth
For to explore the plain;
Although so bold,
They found it cold,
So hied them home again!”

Next day was again gloomy and cold. It took me ten minutes to rub the
sunshine ball clean. The record for yesterday showed clearly the
sudden cessation of sunshine about noon, just when I was ready to use
my camera.

Every one was now busy with sledging outfit. Bernard Day and Cherry
each gave me thin gloves for my forthcoming theodolite work; Hooper
washed some of my clothes, and kindly sewed a huge pocket on the
jersey. One great improvement was to my socks. I sewed canvas
heel-tips to most of them, cut out of my specimen bags, of which I had
more than I required.

Clissold had boiled Oates’ famous home-made canvas breeches, and
scrubbed blubber out of them for an hour. He donned them with joy, and
they now hung in graceful folds in place of being as stiff as
stove-piping. Every one laughed when he was caught solemnly dancing to
the pianola in them!

The one great lack on our previous journey had been strong soles to
our boots. “Titus electrified us by saying that he had a stock of
hobnails. I offered him five pairs of socks for them, or anything he
liked. He enjoyed this hugely, and finally said, ‘Well, I’m interested
in a military magazine. If you’ll write a five-page article on
“Physiography for Soldiers,” you can have them!’ I agreed willingly;
but my visions of a boxful were unfulfilled. There were barely enough
for two soles.

“The western trippers returned early on the 29th. They had finished up
with a stiff day, doing twenty miles in very bad weather. They had got
across in two days and four hours. The depôt on Butter Point was
invisible, bar one tin! No staff or flag. They dumped our two cases on
top. (Birdie counsels taking an extra tank for biscuits.) The Owner
thinks the south tongue of the Ferrar is due to a tributary glacier,
but they didn’t go near it. Then up to the Cathedral Rocks. Here they
found an apparent movement of a foot in C. S. W.’s stakes. Of course
the glacier _must move_ to keep the end of the tongue stationary
(_i.e._ ablation replaced), but this is an important amount of
corroboration. Then they returned and coasted round to Dry Valley.
There is a huge ice-foot here, probably preserved by the sheltered
position of these cliffs. They climbed up the Kukri Hills near where
Evans and I put Station I., and saw the Taylor Glacier, etc., quite
well. Then across to Cape Bernacchi. Here they got some kenyte and
were much bucked, but we also got much of it further west in Dry
Valley. They marched about twenty miles north and saw a huge berg.
This had a stake on it, and ‘B. A. E. Expedition’ on a board. They
found it was our glacier tongue, which had drifted across to this
position, about seventy miles to the north-west! Beyond was Dunlop
Island, sixty feet high and half a mile long. Many rolled pebbles on
it and raised beaches. The Owner got a good specimen of granite,
showing rounded erosion above and angular below, where it was bedded
in the beach.

“Near here there was a cliff of schist-limestone with quartz veins,
and here the Owner got a strong vein of copper pyrites. The adjacent
limestone (or marble) they thought was quartz. This has a blackish
mineral in it, perhaps copper glance. Then they returned to Marble
Point and then in a beeline to the Hut. They were caught two days in a
blizzard and had an awful time getting up the tent. Sunny Jim was
nearly frostbitten holding up the poles.

“The Owner didn’t think we could retreat over the shore, for it
consisted of ice slopes with crevasses. But there are so many bergs
there that he was sure that an ice margin would form there quickly;
and he thought we could count on reaching Hut Point by April 1....”
(As will be seen later, the sea-ice broke up quite abnormally; and we
should not have got round till next spring if we had not retreated in
February over the ice slopes. Atkinson tried this journey in April,
just as Scott suggested, and found it impossible! which is but one
more illustration of the irrationality of Antarctic conditions.)

Now that the sun was back again, it was very enjoyable to tramp round
our headquarters and “snap” pictures with the camera. I realized more
than ever that a geologist is _always_ in a position to enjoy nature.
In civilized regions a botanist may run him close, but down south the
former would have a poor time, whereas there are always rocks or ice,
even in Antarctica. The snow ridges were most beautiful objects, all
lying on the northern (lee) side of various projections. For instance,
a great promontory of snow jutted out over the sea-ice from the
Northern Glacieret, and clearly marked the origin of the latter, as
consolidated snowdrift. A little further the sea-ice at low tide,
evidently bumped on to a great boulder, and the ice was cracked and
bent into a low dome, exactly as a granite boss is supposed by
geologists to crack the earth’s crust. Beyond this the snow cornice
due to blizzard drift was busy bridging the tide crack, and this
accretion from one side, gradually extending to the other, led to a
theory of crevasse-bridges, which explains the greater thickness in
the centre of such bridges.

The sculpturing of the kenyte boulders was most remarkable. Just
behind the hut was a quaint boulder, carved by wind and frost into
something resembling a Galapagos turtle! This we called the
Antarcticosaurus. On the Ramp to the east of this was another block
shaped like the power-shears used in machine shops for cutting iron
plate. In the same region were great blocks several feet across split
clean in half by the action of the frost.

ICE-QUAKES IN THE SEA-ICE, SEPT. 23, 1911.

The ice has settled down with the tide on a huge boulder and so formed
radiating cracks, just as has happened in the earth’s crust. The ice
is six feet thick. In the distance is the fallen “Arch Berg” just
west of Cape Evans.
]

THE TIDE CRACK AT THE NORTH-WEST CORNER OF CAPE EVANS, SEPT. 23, 1911.

On the right is the moving sea-ice, on the left the fixed ice-foot.
The blizzard “bridges” the crack by cornices built from the south.
The overhanging snow fills crevasses similarly, and thus arises the
wedge shape of the bridges—for these cornices are thickest in the
middle. Behind is Inaccessible Island with its windblown sand ridges
on the right.
]

Small lakes, debris cones in all stages, solifluction furrows, ice
dams, kenyte columns, wind-ridges, etc., etc., there was no end to the
interesting photos one could obtain now the sun was with us again.
Still it took a long time for him to illuminate the southern cliffs of
the Cape, for he would dip behind the mountains to the west for
several weeks to come, quite early in the afternoon.

On the 29th of September I tramped across to Tent Island, which lay
four miles south of Cape Evans. The island was approximately square
and about 800 yards along each side. The west side was fairly steep
and the island sloped gradually thence to the east. At the south was a
well-marked ice-foot, just like the one on which we camped in the
blizzard on Little Razorback. It is probably due to spray and snow
blown on to the windward face by the southern blizzards.

There were a number of small water-cut gullies furrowing the slopes.
The surface was quite peculiar. The kenyte gravel was so small and
uniform that it looked like a well-raked garden, and was like velvet
to walk on! I found a few small granite erratics, just as Oates had
prophesied. The latter had visited the isle a few days earlier, and
was delighted to hear that Debenham had missed the granite boulders
which Titus had seen! The geologist had been handicapped by a bad
light and some snowfall; but it may readily be imagined how little
that affected the cavalryman’s pride in his discovery!

The evidence of water erosion in the Antarctic was important. One
gully was quite 25 feet deep with a steep grade and was about 30 yards
wide. It ended in a fan which spread out over the ice-foot. I could
not climb down the latter, and so reached the sea-ice where I had
climbed up, further to the north.

I had a long talk with the Owner about my plans for the forthcoming
summer. He was much averse to our trying to return by the Piedmont
Glacier, probably because of the greatly increased risk of falling
into crevasses if your path lies _along_ their length (instead of
across them, as in traversing ordinary outlet glaciers). I think our
party were the first to do any considerable distance over such a
glacier, and I must confess that I would infinitely prefer to ascend a
_normal_ glacier for twice the distance.

In one important respect the environment of our hut was scientifically
more interesting than that of 1902 or 1907. We were only a few
minutes’ walk from the huge face of an important glacier. This meant
that many hours could be spent studying ice conditions, without being
at a dangerous distance from safety if a blizzard suddenly sprang up.
Almost every day Wright and myself prowled around High Cliff and the
vertical 150-foot face of the Barne Glacier.

As one walked north from the cape on to the sea-ice, the ice-covered
slopes of the Ramp (which we called Slippery Slopes) merged into the
ice of the Barne glacier. Just at the northern “root” of Cape Evans
was Low Cliff, a mass of kenyte _in situ_. Further north every few
hundred yards was a permanent snow ramp leading up to the glacier
surface 100 feet above. At High Cliff an outcrop of kenyte was exposed
below the ice mass, and a little further north was another lower
outcrop at sea-level. Between these two—and about a mile from the
hut—Gran worked hard to convert a snow slope into a suitable ski-run.
It looked a ferocious jump to the tyro, and ended in a jumble of
sea-ice blocks which usually upset even our champion ski-er! (_I_ did
not tackle this particular spot, having a desire to keep sound limbs
for the ensuing summer, but nothing ever harmed Gran, as far as we
could see!)

A stiff pull up the ski slope brought one to the top of the glacier.
Here the edge of the latter was closely corrugated by small thaw
streams, while the sun had etched out the face of the ice and left
great blocks of englacial kenyte projecting like the gargoyles of
Notre Dame. The silt bands and texture of the glacier hereabouts,
which was unusually rich in included debris, are well shown in the
accompanying photographs.

The last volume of _S.P.T._ for 1911 was now in preparation. The
editor honoured me with an order for another skit on the lines of the
Bipe research. So I wrote a second dealing with sledging trials,
purporting to be love-letters between a McCormick Skua and a Weddell
Seal. This was illustrated in similar style by Uncle Bill.

HIGH CLIFF AND THE SOUTH END OF THE BARNE GLACIER, OCT. 21, 1911.

Ski Slope leads up to the glacier on the left. The debris cones show
up well on the right. The banded nature of the glacier ice shows
clearly to the right of High Cliff. The glacier and cliff are here
about 120 feet high. Erebus is 12 miles off.
]

This is an original copy (reduced) of Bill’s poem showing the footnote
he added (in imitation of my earlier directions). Also showing his
corrections after Cherry’s criticism, thus giving the poem in its
first and also its final form.
]

One day when I was typing this copy on Cherry’s typewriter, Bill came
to me with a poem he had written. He asked me to type it so that
Cherry should not recognize his writing. He wanted it to be perfectly
anonymous, for he knew anything of Bill’s would go in from our
admiration of the writer! I saw that he had copied my footnote (so as
to puzzle Cherry further) asking that an illustration be appended by
the artist on the staff!

(This poem is that forming the introduction to the second volume of
Scott’s Last Expedition.) A few days later Cherry brought me all the
MS. and was graciously pleased to compliment me on the lot—especially
the poem “Barrier Silence”! So I had to disclaim authorship—in spite
of the footnote. After some time I think he believed me, but he wanted
two lines cleared up a little and asked me to do it. I declined to
alter it, but said that evidently the author expected Bill (as artist)
to see the poem, and that I was sure that whatever he and Bill agreed
to would satisfy the author! Whereat I heard Bill chuckle, and later
it was returned to me emended as shown in the annexed facsimile.

Two explanations are perhaps helpful. The surface of the Barrier over
large areas often sinks suddenly to a slight degree when it is
disturbed by a sledge party, and this “shudder” has a very eerie
sound. The glare from the blinding surface affects the eyes much as
does a hot substance, and this is independent of the temperature.
Hence the remark, “Scorched and froze us through and through.”

Evans, Gran, and Forde had done a rapid and useful dash south to see
if the first depôts were in good order. They experienced awfully low
temperatures (below −70°!), but managed to dig out the cases at the
depôt, and restore them to a more noticeable position. It must have
been an awful job, and there was evidence of this after their return.
Forde awoke next morning to find three of his fingers black, and one
was soon attacked with gangrene! For months his right hand was bound
up, and he was unable to use it fully right through our western
journey next summer.

The geologists had to be very active, and make the most of the next
week or two to study the numerous problems confronting us in the
vicinity of Cape Evans. The sunlight made it possible to go longer
distances, and I examined Inaccessible Island, Turk’s Head, Tent
Island, Glacier Tongue, and Cape Royds in greater detail than I had
been able to do before. Thus on the 4th October I tramped six miles
south to join the survey party at Turk’s Head.

Captain Scott had brought down a bicycle—given by a New Zealand
firm—on representations from Day and myself. I had ridden many miles
over snow in France, and thought it would be useful for short trips
round headquarters on the sea-ice. I got it out this day, but could
not find the pump, and so did not use the bicycle.

I reached Turk’s Head about noon, and found the survey tent; but the
party were four hundred feet up on top of Turk’s Head. I could just
see Debenham on the summit, and got a photograph with his figure on
the skyline.

It was tolerably easy to climb up the north-east gully, and so attain
the cup-shaped hollow on the summit, which enclosed a small frozen
tarn. Wonderful crags bounded the Bluff to the south. Great pinnacles
and couloirs etched out of the basic lava cliffs, due to the biting
breath of the southern blizzard. At the head of the bay, to the north,
were steep ice-falls. These moulded themselves round slender jagged
pinnacles of rock, which one would expect to have been eroded with
great ease by almost any type of glacier.

We marched back to the survey tent in a cove two miles north, and ate
the currant cake which I had provided for lunch. Great ice-falls came
into the cove, and a huge cave was formed where they shot over the
cliff. It was thirty feet high, and went a long way into the glacier.
The sea-ice near the tent was ridged into pressure waves eight feet
high by the thrust of this glacier. I heard that they had altered in
shape while the party had been there. It was amazing to me to find so
little trace of polishing or planation under this huge glacier. We
returned close to another low outcrop called the “Slipper,” and
closely examined it. There was practically no sign of glacial action
on the rock surface just below the ice. Of course kenyte is somewhat
friable, and we occasionally found coarse bruised grooves marked on
the side of a boulder, but never any definite striæ or polishing.

Perhaps the most interesting event of the day was that we heard a
mysterious tinkle in the corner of the hut. This was Meares ringing up
headquarters from the Old Discovery Hut some fifteen miles south! He
took a roll of bare aluminum wire on the dog sledge, and just unrolled
it as he sped off to Hut Point—surely the most primitive and simplest
method of telephone-laying extant! I rang him up and asked him to keep
a look-out for my geological hammer, and then proceeded to beat Wright
at chess.

On the 8th I had a very unpleasant experience, largely owing to my own
foolhardiness. I obtained permission from Captain Scott to go off to
Turk’s Head, and said I hoped to be back by 4 p.m. He said, “Well, you
must return by dinner-time.” It was a fine, clear day; I had found the
bicycle pump, and was keen to make some use of the bicycle. I set off
boldly “to the admiration of those engaged in mending the tide gauge.
But it went stiffly, even through fairly hard snow, and I realised it
was not going to be much of a help. I had to walk half of the first
two miles, and seriously thought of leaving the bicycle at east base,
but hoped that the surface would improve. It was so hard that my boots
hardly sank in the snow, but the wheels cut a two-inch rut, while the
freewheel was of the roller type, and slipped when I put on extra
pressure. I pushed on to Glacier Tongue and had to walk half the eight
miles, and found it very tiring.”

The tongue was most interesting. In outline it somewhat resembled an
Aztec sword, where jagged bits of obsidian are inserted fairly close
together along the edge. Here the ice edge consisted of alternate
promontories and bays—owing to the sea-water occupying the troughs of
the undulating glacier. I thankfully left the bicycle here, and
climbed into the tongue. I was very stiff, and had apparently strained
my leg with unwonted exercise.

There seemed to be a very interesting cliff outcrop at the northern
root of the tongue, and I decided to visit it. It looked about half a
mile off, but the deceptive distances proved my undoing. After a rapid
walk of half an hour I only arrived at the outer zone of pressure ice
at the head of the bay. I could see that it was an interesting
spot—where the glacier capped a rock outcrop—but I dared not go
further. So I turned back, and was pretty done up when I reached the
bicycle again. It was now 3.30, and I had had nothing to eat since
8.30, and had still seven miles to do. I rested for a few minutes and
then began to feel anxious, for I got very cold. So I plugged on a
mile or so till I couldn’t walk any further, and had to rest again.
This time I felt myself chilling rapidly, and was in a quandary. I was
too knocked up to walk, and it was too cold for me to stop. “Then I
saw some one trying to climb up Turk’s Head about two miles away. I
couldn’t make him hear, and pushed on to try and intercept his return.
I didn’t get a return signal for an awful time, till he was just
passing me. It was Wright, without his glasses. He hadn’t heard me at
first, but was finally attracted by the motions of an apparently crazy
seal!” We plodded on slowly and got within a mile of the hut when I
knocked out completely. He pushed on to bring out a sledge, and found
the hut in a state of excitement; for Clissold had been brought in
nearly unconscious only a short time before.

After a short rest I managed to reach the hut unassisted, and food and
sleep made me practically all right. Poor Clissold had fallen thirty
feet off an iceberg, and was confined to his bunk for several weeks in
consequence.

I made a vow that the first bicycle ride in the Antarctic should be
_my_ last, and have every intention of keeping that vow.

On the 11th Debenham and I explored Tent Island again. As I was taking
a photograph at the south-east corner, I heard a queer noise which I
traced to a seal hole about a yard long. Inside this was a big seal
trying to get out, but with little success. I thought at first he was
trying to rub away the ice with his snout bristles, but he was really
rasping right and left with his upper teeth—making horizontal grooves
in the ice, and gradually wearing it away. We watched him for a long
time from a few feet distance, which did not seem to worry him at all.
It made my teeth ache to see the energetic way he dug into the ice;
but after trying unsuccessfully to photo him I left without seeing
that he had made much progress. These seals were now appearing in some
numbers. We counted fourteen near Tent Island, and eight just north of
Inaccessible Island, as we returned to the hut.

On Sunday, 15th September, the third volume of _S.P.T._ was published.
It was in the same style as the preceding copies. There was a dramatic
account in blank verse of the _Terra Nova’s_ visit to South Trinidad,
which I attributed to Nelson (but was really by Mather). Meares wrote
an ode to Ponting in which my new word “to pont” (_i.e._ to spend a
deuce of a time posing in an uncomfortable position for a photograph)
was freely used. The Eastern Party was enshrined in a “Glass House”
this time, while Bill recorded on his Egyptian tablets the wanderings
of the Western trippers during September.

Bill’s illustrations to “The Ladies’ Page,” a record of Antarctic
fashions, were some of the best he had done; especially Madame Bowers
and Miss Jessie Debenham, coyly proposing to Titus Oates!

I have given the history of Wilson’s pathetic poem previously. We used
to talk a good deal about the advantages of “wireless,” and I tried to
embody the idea in a poem of sorts, which here follows, in which are
mentioned scenes familiar to various members, such as Oxford (Cherry);
Cambridge (Wilson, Wright, Nelson, Taylor); Ski-ing in Norway (Gran);
the Canadian muskeg (Wright); Australian Alps (Debenham, Taylor);
Japan (Ponting, Meares); India (Simpson, Oates, Bowers).

I.

When the southern blizzard surges from the white plains of the
Barrier,
Covering all with deadly snow-wreaths, blotting out both land and
sea:
Can it break the magic cables linking us to every region
Where we spent our days of study, days of youth and revelry?
Half the world is our possession, nought can curb imagination,
Though we’re wrapped in folds of deerskin, camped amid a field of
ice,
By the blessed help of fancy, still we’re free to wander gaily
Through the wooded lanes of England—true explorer’s paradise.

II.

By the happy help of fancy we can leave the land of glaciers,
Hear the tolling from Tom Tower, or the chimes from Cambridge
arches,
Sense the thrill of ski-ers’ prowess on the slopes of Holmens Kol;
Once again can feel the tump-line as we cross the Muskeg Marshes;
We can change the Slopes of Terror to the sward of Kosciusko,
Where a thousand steers are grazing ’mid the tarns and green
moraines;
See the land of Cherry Blossom and the maidens of Japan,
Or the peaks of Himalaya hung above the Indian plains.

III.

Lightly fades the lonely igloo; merges in the college gray ...
In the firesides of Old England, thirteen thousand miles away.
Thus from Lonelands to the Homelands all our thoughts are speeding
forth,
Faster far than wire or wireless—on “stretched wings towards the
north.”[9]

_Cape Evans_, 27.10.11.

I had an interesting midnight walk early on the 15th October. “I had
no gloves on, and it was light enough to photograph. There was a
beautiful red sunset due south. To the north the bay ice was
pea-green, while Erebus shone out with purple shadows. I laid boundary
stones at the ice margins of both Skua and Island lakes, to determine
how quickly the ice ablated in the spring. That evening I caused a
sensation by having a shave, the first since leaving New Zealand.
Birdie, Simpson, and Cherry behaved most foolishly as a result. Day
did the deed!”

We found the Hut Point telephone useful for weather forecasting. For
instance, on the 16th Meares rang up at 11 a.m. to say that it was
blizzing (with force 9) from the south with a temperature of −16° F.
At this time, though only fifteen miles away, we were experiencing a
moderate north wind (force 3) with a temperature of −3° F. “As a
result Titus bet Teddy Evans that the blizzard would arrive before
noon. The wager was six cigarettes. No blizzard arrived at all, so
that Teddy won, but as he had given up smoking for some months he only
took one for Debenham!”