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Декабря 1911 года. Четверг, 7 декабря. Лагерь 30






Четверг, 7 декабря. Лагерь 30. Пурга продолжается. Положение становится серьёзным. Корма, и то не полный рацион, после сегодняшнего дня остается всего на один день. Завтра надо идти или придется пожертвовать лошадьми. Это еще не беда: с помощью собак можно будет продвинуться дальше, но хуже всего то, что мы сегодня уже попользовались частью той провизии, которая, по расчету, должна расходоваться на глетчере. Первая вспомогательная партия сможет идти не более двух недель с сегодняшнего дня.

Буря, по-видимому, еще не собирается утихать. Мелькнувший было вчера вечером проблеск обманул: около 3 ч утра температура воздуха и ветер снова поднялись, и все опять пошло по-прежнему. Не вижу признака конца. Все согласны со мной, что нет возможности тронуться с места. Остается одно: покориться, но это нелегко. Нельзя не признать такое бедствие незаслуженным, когда планы были составлены так тщательно и принятые меры отчасти уже увенчались успехом. Если пришлось бы начинать сначала, не вижу, что можно было бы в этих планах изменить. Сообразно с пережитым опытом были широко приняты в расчет и возможные полосы дурной погоды. Декабрь у нас здесь лучший из всех месяцев, и самый осторожный организатор не мог предвидеть такого декабря. Тяжко лежать в спальном мешке и думать, как все это ужасно, а между тем при сплошном свинцовом небе положение наше с каждым часом ухудшается. А температура 0°C.

Мирз от снега временно ослеп на один глаз. Надеюсь, этот отдых ему поможет. Он говорит, что глаз уже давно у него болел. В такую погоду не может быть хорошего настроения, но наши ребята всегда готовы развеселиться, и вчера, во время краткого проблеска надежды, уже слышался смех.

Полночь. Нисколько не лучше или почти нисколько. Барометр поднимается. В этом, пожалуй, слабый луч надежды. Такое положение – вынужденное бездействие, когда каждый час на счету, – хоть кого выведет из терпения. Сидеть тут и созерцать испещренные пятнами зеленые стены палатки, лоснящиеся мокрые бамбуковые шесты, развешанные посредине грязные, промокшие носки и другие предметы, печальные лица товарищей, прислушиваться к неумолкаемому шлепанью мокрого снега и к хлопанью парусины под напором ветра, чувствовать, как прилипает одежда и все, к чему прикасаешься, и знать, что там, за этой парусиной, нет ничего, кроме окружающей тебя со всех сторон сплошной белой стены, – таково наше занятие. Если к этому прибавить горькое чувство, с которым мы вынуждены признать возможность провала всего нашего плана, то каждый поймет, как незавидно наше положение. Все же возможно продолжать борьбу, находя новый стимул в самих этих постоянно возникающих затруднениях.

Camp 24. The most dismal start imaginable. Thick as a hedge, snow falling and drifting with keen southerly wind. The men pulled out at 3.15 with Chinaman and James Pigg. We followed at 4.20, just catching the party at the lunch camp at 8.30. Things got better half way; the sky showed signs of clearing and the steering improved. Now, at lunch, it is getting thick again. When will the wretched blizzard be over? The walking is better for ponies, worse for men; there is nearly everywhere a hard crust some 3 to 6 inches down. Towards the end of the march we crossed a succession of high hard south-easterly sastrugi, widely dispersed. I don’t know what to make of these.

Second march almost as horrid as the first. Wind blowing strong from the south, shifting to S.E. as the snowstorms fell on us, when we could see little or nothing, and the driving snow hit us stingingly in the face. The general impression of all this dirty weather is that it spreads in from the S.E. We started at 4 A.M., and I think I shall stick to that custom for the present. These last four marches have been fought for, but completed without hitch, and, though we camped in a snowstorm, there is a more promising look in the sky, and if only for a time the wind has dropped and the sun shines brightly, dispelling some of the gloomy results of the distressing marching.

Chinaman, ‘The Thunderbolt, ’ has been shot to-night. Plucky little chap, he has stuck it out well and leaves the stage but a few days before his fellows. We have only four bags of forage (each one 30 lbs.) left, but these should give seven marches with all the remaining animals, and we are less than 90 miles from the Glacier. Bowers tells me that the barometer was phenomenally low both during this blizzard and the last. This has certainly been the most unexpected and trying summer blizzard yet experienced in this region. I only trust it is over. There is not much to choose between the remaining ponies. Nobby and Bones are the strongest, Victor and Christopher the weakest, but all should get through. The land doesn’t show up yet.

Camp 16. The surface a little better. Sastrugi becoming more and more definite from S.E. Struck a few hard patches which made me hopeful of much better things, but these did not last long. The crocks still go. Jehu seems even a little better than yesterday, and will certainly go another march. Chinaman reported bad the first half march, but bucked up the second. The dogs found the surface heavy. To-morrow I propose to relieve them of a forage bag. The sky was slightly overcast during the march, with radiating cirro-stratus S.S.W.-N.N.E. Now very clear and bright again. Temp, at night -14º, now 4º. A very slight southerly breeze, from which the walls protect the animals well. I feel sure that the long day’s rest in the sun is very good for all of them.

Our ponies marched very steadily last night. They seem to take the soft crusts and difficult plodding surface more easily. The loss of condition is not so rapid as noticed to One Ton Camp, except perhaps in Victor, who is getting to look very gaunt. Nobby seems fitter and stronger than when he started; he alone is ready to go all his feed at any time and as much more as he can get. The rest feel fairly well, but they are getting a very big strong ration. I am beginning to feel more hopeful about them. Christopher kicked the bow of his sledge in towards the end of the march. He must have a lot left in him though.Camp 13. Atkinson started about 8.30. We came on about 11, the whole of the remainder. The lunch camp was 7 1/2 miles. Atkinson left as we came in. He was an hour before us at the final camp, 13 1/4 (geo.) miles. On the whole, and considering the weights, the ponies did very well, but the surface was comparatively good. Christopher showed signs of trouble at start, but was coaxed into position for the traces to be hooked. There was some ice on his runner and he had a very heavy drag, therefore a good deal done on arrival; also his load seems heavier and deader than the others. It is early days to wonder whether the little beasts will last; one can only hope they will, but the weakness of breeding and age is showing itself already.

The crocks have done wonderfully, so there is really no saying how long or well the fitter animals may go. We had a horribly cold wind on the march. Temp. -18°, force 3. The sun was shining but seemed to make little difference. It is still shining brightly, temp. 11°. Behind the pony walls it is wonderfully warm and the animals look as snug as possible.Camp 9. Our marches are uniformly horrid just at present. The surface remains wretched, not quite so heavy as yesterday, perhaps, but very near it at times. Five miles out the advance party came straight and true on our last year’s Bluff depot marked with a flagstaff. Here following I found a note from Evans, cheerful in tone, dated 7 A.M. 7th inst. He is, therefore, the best part of five days ahead of us, which is good. Atkinson camped a mile beyond this cairn and had a very gloomy account of Chinaman. Said he couldn’t last more than a mile or two. The weather was horrid, overcast, gloomy, snowy. One’s spirits became very low. However, the crocks set off again, the rearguard came up, passed us in camp, and then on the march about 3 miles on, so that they camped about the same time. The Soldier thinks Chinaman will last for a good many days yet, an extraordinary confession of hope for him. The rest of the animals are as well as can be expected – Jehu rather better. These weather appearances change every minute. When we camped there was a chill northerly breeze, a black sky, and light falling snow. Now the sky is clearing and the sun shining an hour later. The temperature remains about -10º in the daytime.Camp 6. Sticking to programme, we are going a little over the 10 miles (geo.) nightly. Atkinson started his party at 11 and went on for 7 miles to escape a cold little night breeze which quickly dropped. He was some time at his lunch camp, so that starting to join the rearguard we came in together the last 2 miles. The experience showed that the slow advance guard ponies are forced out of their place by joining with the others, whilst the fast rearguard is reduced in speed. Obviously it is not an advantage to be together, yet all the ponies are doing well. An amusing incident happened when Wright left his pony to examine his sledgemeter. Chinaman evidently didn’t like being left behind and set off at a canter to rejoin the main body. Wright’s long legs barely carried him fast enough to stop this fatal stampede, but the ridiculous sight was due to the fact that old Jehu caught the infection and set off at a sprawling canter in Chinaman’s wake. As this is the pony we thought scarcely capable of a single march at start, one is agreeably surprised to find him still displaying such commendable spirit.

Christopher is troublesome as ever at the start; I fear that signs of tameness will only indicate absence of strength. The dogs followed us so easily over the 10 miles that Meares thought of going on again, but finally decided that the present easy work is best.

Things look hopeful. The weather is beautiful – temp. -12º, with a bright sun. Some stratus cloud about Discovery and over White Island. The sastrugi about here are very various in direction and the surface a good deal ploughed up, showing that the Bluff influences the wind direction even out as far as this camp. The surface is hard; I take it about as good as we shall get.


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