The following remarks on the South Pole area were written by Bowers in the Meteorological Log, apparently on January 17 and 18: "Within 120 miles of the South Pole the sastrugi crossed seem to indicate belts of certain prevalent winds. These were definitely S.E.ly. up to about Lat. 78° 30' S., where the summit was passed and we started to go definitely downhill toward the Pole. An indefinite area was then crossed S.E.ly, S.ly and S.W.ly sastrugi. Later, in about 79° 30' S., those from the S.S.W. predominated. At this point also the surface of the ice-cap became affected by undulations running more or less at right angles to our course. These resolved themselves into immense waves some miles in extent,[288] with a uniform surface both in hollow and crust. The whole surface was carpeted with a deposit of ice-crystals which, while we were there, fell sometimes in the form of minute spicules and sometimes in plates. These caused an almost continuous display of parhelia.
"The flags left a month previously by the Norwegian expedition were practically undamaged and so could not have been exposed to very heavy wind during that time. Their sledging and ski tracks, where marked, were raised slightly, also the dogs' footprints. In the neighbourhood of their South Pole Camp the drifts were S.W.ly, but there was one S.S.E. drift to leeward of tent. They had pitched their tent to allow for S.W.ly wind. For walking on foot the ground was all pretty soft, and on digging down the crystalline structure of the snow was found to alter very little, and there were no layers of crust such as are found on the Barrier. The snow seems so lightly put together as not to cohere, and makes very little water for its bulk when melted. The constant and varied motion of cirrus, and the forming and motion of radiant points, shows that in the upper atmosphere at this time of the year there is little or no tranquillity."[289]
That is the bare bones of what was without any possible doubt a great shock. Consider! These men had been out 2½ months and were 800 miles from home. The glacier had been a heavy grind: the plateau certainly not worse, probably better, than was expected, as far as that place where the Last Return Party left them. But then, in addition to a high altitude, a head wind, and a temperature which averaged -18.7°, came this shower of ice-crystals, turning the surface to sand, especially when the sun was out. They were living in cirrus clouds, and the extraordinary state seems to have obtained that the surface of the snow was colder when the sun was shining than when clouds checked the radiation from it. They began to descend. Things began to go not quite right: they felt the cold, especially Oates and Evans: Evans' hands also were wrong—ever since the seamen made that new sledge. The making of that sledge must have been fiercely cold work: one of the hardest jobs they did. I am not sure that enough notice has been taken of that.
And then: "The Norwegians have forestalled us and are first at the Pole. It is a terrible disappointment, and I am very sorry for my loyal companions. Many thoughts come and much discussion have we had. To-morrow we must march on to the Pole and then hasten home with all the speed we can compass. All the day-dreams must go; it will be a wearisome return." "The Pole. Yes, but under very different circumstances from those expected ... companions labouring on with cold feet and hands.... Evans had such cold hands we camped for lunch ... the wind is blowing hard, T. -21°, and there is that curious damp, cold feeling in the air which chills one to the bone in no time.... Great God! this is an awful place...."[290]
This is not a cry of despair. It is an ejaculation provoked by the ghastly facts. Even now in January the temperature near the South Pole is about 24° lower than it is during the corresponding month of the year (July) near the North Pole,[291] and if it is like this in mid-summer, what is it like in mid-winter? At the same time it was, with the exception of the sandy surfaces, what they had looked for, and every detail of organization was working out as well as if not better than had been expected.
Bowers was so busy with the meteorological log and sights which were taken in terribly difficult circumstances that he kept no diary until they started back. Then he wrote on seven consecutive days, as follows:
"January 19. A splendid clear morning with a fine S.W. wind blowing. During breakfast time I sewed a flap attachment on to the hood of my green hat so as to prevent the wind from blowing down my neck on the march. We got up the mast and sail on the sledge and headed north, picking up Amundsen's cairn and our outgoing tracks shortly afterwards. Along these we travelled till we struck the other cairn and finally the black flag where we had made our 58th outward camp. We then with much relief left all traces of the Norwegians behind us, and headed on our own track till lunch camp, when we had covered eight miles.
"In the afternoon we passed No. 2 cairn of the British route, and fairly slithered along before a fresh breeze. It was heavy travelling for me, not being on ski, but one does not mind being tired if a good march is made. We did sixteen (miles) altogether for the day, and so should pick up our Last Depôt to-morrow afternoon. The weather became fairly thick soon after noon, and at the end of the afternoon there was considerable drift, with a mist caused by ice-crystals, and parhelion."
"January 20. Good sailing breeze again this morning. It is a great pleasure to have one's back to the wind instead of having to face it. It came on thicker later, but we sighted the Last Depôt soon after 1 P.M. and reached it at 1.45 P.M. The red flag on the bamboo pole was blowing out merrily to welcome us back from the Pole, with its supply of necessaries of life below. We are absolutely dependent upon our depôts to get off the plateau alive, and so welcome the lonely little cairns gladly. At this one, called the Last Depôt, we picked up four days' food, a can of oil, some methylated spirit (for lighting purposes) and some personal gear we had left there. The bamboo was bent on to the floor-cloth as a yard for our sail instead of a broken sledge-runner of Amundsen's which we had found at the Pole and made a temporary yard of.
"As we had marched extra long in the forenoon in order to reach the depôt, our afternoon march was shorter than usual. The wind increased to a moderate gale with heavy gusts and considerable drift. We should have had a bad time had we been facing it. After an hour I had to shift my harness aft so as to control the motions of the sledge. Unfortunately the surface got very sandy latterly, but we finished up with 16.1 miles to our credit and camped in a stiff breeze, which resolved itself into a blizzard a few hours later. I was glad we had our depôt safe."
"January 21. Wind increased to force 8 during night with heavy drift. In the morning it was blizzing like blazes and marching was out of the question. The wind would have been of great assistance to us, but the drift was so thick that steering a course would have been next to impossible. We decided to await developments and get under weigh as soon as it showed any signs of clearing. Fortunately it was shortlived, and instead of lasting the regulation two days it eased up in the afternoon, and 3.45 found us off with our sail full. It was good running on ski but soft plodding for me on foot. I shall be jolly glad to pick up my dear old ski. They are nearly 200 miles away yet, however. The breeze fell altogether latterly and I shifted up into my old place as middle number of the five. Our distance completed was 5.5 miles, when camp was made again. Our old cairns are of great assistance to us, also the tracks, which are obliterated in places by heavy drift and hard sastrugi, but can be followed easily."
"January 22. We came across Evans' sheepskin boots this morning. They were almost covered up after their long spell since they fell off the sledge (on January 11). The breeze was fair from the S.S.W. but got lighter and lighter. At lunch camp we had completed 8.2 miles. In the afternoon the breeze fell altogether, and the surface, acted on by the sun, became perfect sawdust. The light sledge pulled by five men came along like a drag without a particle of slide or give. We were all glad to camp soon after 7 P.M. I think we were all pretty tired out. We did altogether 19.5 miles for the day. We are only thirty miles from the 1½ Degree Depôt, and should reach it in two marches with any luck." (The minimum temperature this night was -30° (uncorrected).)
"January 23. Started off with a bit of a breeze which hel
ped us a little (temperature -28°). After the first two hours it increased to force 4, S.S.W., and filling the sail we sped along merrily, doing 8¾ miles before lunch. In the afternoon it was even stronger, and I had to go back on the sledge and act as guide and brakesman. We had to lower the sail a bit, but even then she ran like a bird.
"We are picking up our old cairns famously. Evans got his nose frost-bitten, not an unusual thing with him, but as we were all getting pretty cold latterly we stopped at a quarter to seven, having done 16½ miles. We camped with considerable difficulty owing to the force of the wind."[292]
The same night Scott wrote: "We came along at a great pace, and should have got within an easy march of our (One and a Half Degree) Depôt had not Wilson suddenly discovered that Evans' nose was frost-bitten—it was white and hard. We thought it best to camp at 6.45. Got the tent up with some difficulty, and now pretty cosy after good hoosh.
"There is no doubt Evans is a good deal run down—his fingers are badly blistered and his nose is rather seriously congested with frequent frost-bites. He is very much annoyed with himself, which is not a good sign. I think Wilson, Bowers and I are as fit as possible under the circumstances. Oates gets cold feet. One way and another I shall be glad to get off the summit!... The weather seems to be breaking up."[293]
Bowers resumes the tale:
"January 24. Evans has got his fingers all blistered with frost-bites, otherwise we are all well, but thinning, and in spite of our good rations get hungrier daily. I sometimes spend much thought on the march with plans for making a pig of myself on the first opportunity. As that will be after a further march of 700 miles they are a bit premature.
"It was blowing a gale when we started and it increased in force. Finally with the sail half down, one man detached tracking ahead and Titus and I breaking back, we could not always keep the sledge from overrunning. The blizzard got worse and worse till, having done only seven miles, we had to camp soon after twelve o'clock. We had a most difficult job camping, and it has been blowing like blazes all the afternoon. I think it is moderating now, 9 P.M. We are only seven miles from our depôt and this delay is exasperating."[294]
[Scott wrote: "This is the second full gale since we left the Pole. I don't like the look of it. Is the weather breaking up? If so, God help us, with the tremendous summit journey and scant food. Wilson and Bowers are my stand-by. I don't like the easy way in which Oates and Evans get frost-bitten."[295]]
"January 25. It was no use turning out at our usual time (5.45 A.M.), as the blizzard was as furious as ever; we therefore decided on a late breakfast and no lunch unless able to march. We have only three days' food with us and shall be in Queer Street if we miss the depôt. Our bags are getting steadily wetter, so are our clothes. It shows a tendency to clear off now (breakfast time) so, D.V., we may march after all. I am in tribulation as regards meals now as we have run out of salt, one of my favourite commodities. It is owing to Atkinson's party taking back an extra tin by mistake from the Upper Glacier Depôt. Fortunately we have some depôted there, so I will only have to endure another two weeks without it.
"10 P.M.—We have got in a march after all, thank the Lord. Assisted by the wind we made an excellent rundown to our One and a Half Degree Depôt, where the big red flag was blowing out like fury with the breeze, in clouds of driving drift. Here we picked up 1¼ cans of oil and one week's food for five men, together with some personal gear depôted. We left the bamboo and flag on the cairn. I was much relieved to pick up the depôt: now we only have one other source of anxiety on this endless snow summit, viz. the Three Degree Depôt in latitude 86° 56' S.
"In the afternoon we did 5.2 miles. It was a miserable march, blizzard all the time and our sledge either sticking in sastrugi or overrunning the traces. We had to lower the sail half down, and Titus and I hung on to her. It was most strenuous work, as well as much colder than pulling ahead. Most of the time we had to brake back with all our strength to keep the sledge from overrunning. Bill got a bad go of snow glare from following the track without goggles on.
"This day last year we started the Depôt Journey. I did not think so short a time would turn me into an old hand at polar travelling, neither did I imagine at the time that I would be returning from the Pole itself."[296]
Wilson was very subject to these attacks of snow blindness, and also to headaches before blizzards. I have an idea that his anxiety to sketch whenever opportunity offered, and his willingness to take off his goggles to search for tracks and cairns, had something to do with it. This attack was very typical. "I wrote this at lunch and in the evening had a bad attack of snow blindness." ... "Blizzard in afternoon. We only got in a forenoon march. Couldn't see enough of the tracks to follow at all. My eyes didn't begin to trouble me till to-morrow [yesterday], though it was the strain of tracking and the very cold drift which we had to-day that gave me this attack of snow glare." ... "Marched on foot in the afternoon as my eyes were too bad to go on ski. We had a lot of drift and wind and very cold. Had ZuSO_4 and cocaine in my eyes at night and didn't get to sleep at all for the pain—dozed about an hour in the morning only." ... "Marched on foot again all day as I couldn't see my way on ski at all, Birdie used my ski. Eyes still very painful and watering. Tired out by the evening, had a splendid night's sleep, and though very painful across forehead to-night they are much better."[297]
The surface was awful: in his diary of the day after they left the Pole (January 19) Wilson wrote an account of it. "We had a splendid wind right behind us most of the afternoon and went well until about 6 P.M. when the sun came out and we had an awful grind until 7.30 when we camped. The sun comes out on sandy drifts, all on the move in the wind, and temp. -20°, and gives us an absolutely awful surface with no glide at all for ski or sledge, and just like fine sand. The weather all day has been more or less overcast with white broken alto-stratus, and for 3 degrees above the horizon there is a grey belt looking like a blizzard of drift, but this in reality is caused by a constant fall of minute snow crystals, very minute. Sometimes instead of crystal plates the fall is of minute agglomerate spicules like tiny sea-urchins. The plates glitter in the sun as though of some size, but you can only just see them as pin-points on your burberry. So the spicule collections are only just visible. Our hands are never warm enough in camp to do any neat work now. The weather is always uncomfortably cold and windy, about -23°, but after lunch to-day I got a bit of drawing done."[298]
All the joy had gone from their sledging. They were hungry, they were cold, the pulling was heavy, and two of them were not fit. As long ago as January 14 Scott wrote that Oates was feeling the cold and fatigue more than the others[299] and again he refers to the matter on January 20.[300] On January 19 Wilson wrote: "We get our hairy faces and mouths dreadfully iced up on the march, and often one's hands very cold indeed holding ski-sticks. Evans, who cut his knuckle some days ago at the last depôt, has a lot of pus in it to-night." January 20: "Evans has got 4 or 5 of his finger-tips badly blistered by the cold. Titus also his nose and cheeks—al[so] Evans and Bowers." January 28: "Evans has a number of badly blistered finger-ends which he got at the Pole. Titus' big toe is turning blue-black." January 31: "Evans' finger-nails all coming off, very raw and sore." February 4: "Evans is feeling the cold a lot, always getting frost-bitten. Titus' toes are blackening, and his nose and cheeks are dead yellow. Dressing Evans' fingers every other day with boric vaseline: they are quite sweet still." February 5: "Evans' fingers suppurating. Nose very bad [hard] and rotten-looking."[301]
Scott was getting alarmed about Evans, who "has dislodged two finger-nails to-night; his hands are really bad, and, to my surprise, he shows signs of losing heart over it. He hasn't been cheerful since the accident."[302] "The party is not improving in condition, especially Evans, who is becoming rather dull and incapable." "Evans' nose is almost as bad as his fingers. He is a good deal crocked up."[303]
Bowers' diary, quoted above, finished on January 25, on which day they picked up their One and a
Half Degree Depôt. "I shall sleep much better with our provision bag full again," wrote Scott that night. "Bowers got another rating sight to-night—it was wonderful how he managed to observe in such a horribly cold wind." They marched 16 miles the next day, but got off the outward track, which was crooked. On January 27 they did 14 miles on a "very bad surface of deep-cut sastrugi all day, until late in the afternoon when we began to get out of them."[304] "By Jove, this is tremendous labour," said Scott.
They were getting into the better surfaces again: 15.7 miles for January 28, "a fine day and a good march on very decent surface."[305] On January 29 Bowers wrote his last full day's diary: "Our record march to-day. With a good breeze and improving surface we were soon in among the double tracks where the supporting party left us. Then we picked up the memorable camp where I transferred to the advance party. How glad I was to change over. The camp was much drifted up and immense sastrugi were everywhere, S.S.E. in direction and S.E. We did 10.4 miles before lunch. I was breaking back on sledge and controlling; it was beastly cold and my hands were perished. In the afternoon I put on my dogskin mitts and was far more comfortable. A stiff breeze with drift continues: temperature -25°. Thank God our days of having to face it are over. We completed 19.5 miles [22 statute] this evening, and so are only 29 miles from our precious [Three Degree] Depôt. It will be bad luck indeed if we do not get there in a march and a half anyhow."[306]