We could not have
advanced at all had it not been for our ski: "on foot one sinks to the
knees, and if pulling on a sledge to half way between knee and
thigh."[226]
On December 13, "the sledges sank in over twelve inches, and all the
gear, as well as the thwartship pieces, were acting as breaks. The tugs
and heaves we enjoyed, and the number of times we had to get out of our
ski to upright the sledge, were trifles compared with the strenuous
exertion of every muscle and nerve to keep the wretched drag from
stopping when once under weigh; and then it would stick, and all the
starting operations had to be gone through afresh. We did perhaps half a
mile in the forenoon. Anticipating a better surface in the afternoon we
got a shock. Teddy [Evans] led off half an hour earlier to pilot a way,
and Captain Scott tried some fake with his spare runners [he lashed them
under the sledge to prevent the cross-pieces ploughing the snow] that
involved about an hour's work. We had to continually turn our runners up
to scrape the ice off them, for in these temperatures they are liable to
get warm and melt the snow on them, and that freezes into knobs of ice
which act like sandpaper or spikes on a pair of skates. We bust off
second full of hope having done so well in the forenoon, but pride goeth
[before a fall]. We stuck ten yards from the camp, and nine hours later
found us little more than half a mile on.
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