With us we kept the dog teams pulling 600 lb. of our own weights and the 200 lb. gross for placing in the Lower Glacier Depot.
Soft snow made the dragging very heavy, and in the afternoon, working on ski, I am sorry to say my party dropped astern and got into camp an hour late—it could not be helped, we had borne the brunt of the hard work; Lashly and I had man-hauled daily for five weeks, and Atkinson and Wright for some time also. I had a long talk next morning after breakfast with Captain Scott. He was disappointed with our inability to keep up with the speed of the main party, but I pointed out that we could not expect to do the same as fresh men—the other eight had only put on the sledge harness for the first time on December 10: Scott agreed, but seemed worried and fretful. However that may be, we got into the lunch camp first of the three sledges, to have our short-lived triumph turned to disaster by a very poor show after the meal—Scott was much disappointed and dissatisfied: he appeared to think Atkinson was done; Wilson said Wright was played out and Lashly tired. They both seemed to think I was all right, but all the same I felt that my unit had been called on to do more than its share and was suffering as a natural consequence. The depot was built in a conspicuous position, and this done, Meares's work ended. He and Dimitri came along with us for a while and then turned back for a long, lonely run over the inhospitable Barrier.
To help us Meares and the Russian dog-boy had travelled farther South than their return rations allowed for, and for the 450 mile Northward march to Cape Evans the two of them went short one meal a day rather than deplete the depots. It is a dreadful thing on an Antarctic sledge journey to forfeit a whole meal daily, and Meares's generosity should not be forgotten.
The advance of Scott's men up the Beardmore was retarded considerably by the deep, wet snow which had accumulated in the lower reaches of the Glacier.
Panting and sweating we could only make 4 mile marches until the 13th December, and even then the soft snow was 18 inches deep. On the 14th we made a good 9 miles, but only by dint of our utmost efforts—we worked on ski, and I tremble to think what we should have done here without them. The aneroids gave us a rise of about 500 feet a day. Things were improving now, and on December 15 we passed the 84 degree parallel—about this time we succeeded in covering 9 to 10 miles daily, and to do this we marched that same number of hours. A good deal of snow covering the mountain ranges, but some remarkable outcrops of rock to vary the scenery. The temperature was very high, and we were punished severely on this account, for the snow was like beef dripping, and we flopped about in it and hove our sledges along with no glide whatever to help us move forward. Such panting, puffing, and sweating, but all in good humour and bent on doing our best. Snowing hard in the latter part of the afternoon just as the surface was improving—we were forced to camp before the proper time on this account. On camping we calculated that we were 2500 feet above the Barrier, the surface promising better things, for there was hard blue ice six inches from the surface, and the snow itself was fairly close-packed and good for ski.
On December 16 we were out of our sleeping bags at 5 and we were under way by 7 a.m., marching till noon, when we lunched and took sights and angles. The surface remained fairly good until 2 p.m., when it took an unaccountable turn for the worse. We covered 12 miles.
Several of us dropped a leg down crevasses here and there, nothing alarming. We reached 3000 feet altitude, and the day ended in the most perfect weather. For the first time since leaving Corner Camp we felt that our ration was sufficient; we had now commenced the "Summit ration," which contained considerable extra fats. Snow-blindness caused trouble here and there, due principally to our removing our goggles when they clouded up—due to sweating so much in the high temperature. The goggles, which Wilson was responsible for, served excellently. Yellow and orange glasses were popular, but some preferred green. As we progressed and our eyes had to be used for long periods without glasses for clearing crevasses, etc., we found that a double glass acted best, and used this whenever the going was easy and goggles could be used.
The contrast between the goggled and the ungoggled state was extraordinary—when one lifted one's orange-tinted snow glasses it was to find a blaze of light that could scarcely be endured. Snow-blindness gave one much the same sensations as those experienced by standing over a smoking bonfire keeping eyes open.
Sunday, December 17, differed from the preceding days, for we got into huge pressure ridges—we hauled our sledges up these and tobogganed down the other sides, progressing half the forenoon thus. We wore our excellent crampons and made lighter work of our loads than we had done since facing the Beardmore, and now that the summer season was well advanced the surface snow on the Glacier had mostly disappeared through the effects of the all day sun added to the early summer winds. The clouding of our goggles made the crevasses more difficult to spot, and one or other of the party got legs or feet down pretty often.
This and the following day were precursors to good marches and easy times. We made the Mid-Glacier Depot in Latitude 84 degrees 33 minutes 6 seconds S., Longitude 169 degrees 22 minutes 2 seconds E., and set therein one half-week's provision. We marked the depot cairn with bamboo and red flag to show up against the ice as well as to contrast with the land. Hitherto only black flags had been employed to mark depots.