“January 24. Evans has got his fingers all blistered with frostbites, 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 depot and this delay is exasperating.”
[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 standby. I don’t like the easy way in which Oates and Evans get frostbitten.”]
“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 depot. 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 Depot. Fortunately we have some depoted 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 Depot, 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 depoted. We left the bamboo and flag on the cairn. I was much relieved to pick up the depot: now we only have one other source of anxiety on this endless snow summit, viz. the Three Degree Depot in latitude 86° 6′ 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 Depot 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.”