We camped for
lunch after 5 miles. Going still better in the afternoon, except that
we crossed several crevasses. Oates' pony dropped his legs into two
of these and sank into one--oddly the other ponies escaped and we were
the last. Some 2 miles from our present position the cracks appeared to
cease, and in the last march we have got on to quite a hard surface on
which the ponies drag their loads with great ease. This part seems to
be swept by the winds which so continually sweep round Cape Crozier,
and therefore it is doubtful if it extends far to the south, but for
the present the going should be good. Had bright moonshine for the
march, but now the sky has clouded and it looks threatening to the
south. I think we may have a blizzard, though the wind is northerly
at present.
The ponies are in very good form; 'James Pigg' remarkably recovered
from his lameness.
8 P.M.--It is blowing a blizzard--wind moderate--temperature mild.
_Impressions_
The deep, dreamless sleep that follows the long march and the
satisfying supper.
The surface crust which breaks with a snap and sinks with a snap,
startling men and animals.
Custom robs it of dread but not of interest to the dogs, who come to
imagine such sounds as the result of some strange freak of hidden
creatures. They become all alert and spring from side to side,
hoping to catch the creature. The hope clings in spite of continual
disappointment.
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