Friday August 21st.

Up quite early to start loading: it all went frightfully easily - of course there was much less than when we arrived, and the boxes all disappeared from the shore in no time. Karl was in a very bad temper, and I was detailed to accompany him in his boat to see that he didn't gossip and spread stories about us when unloading into Heimland. He was in a most intractable mood, and we spent most of the time arguing, so that he never stopped to say anything to anybody on the ship! Then he gradually cooled down.

Then "Polarbjorn" arrived - she has been sounding all round Spitzbergen, and has been the sort of mother ship to a seaplane that has surveyed the whole of Spitzbergen and would have done Northeastland as well if there had been time. Dr. Hoel who is director of the Norge-Svalbard office in Oslo - almost prime minister of Svalbard - was on board, and came ashore to see things. Sandy and John went on board to see him and discuss the map with him, and he offered to take John to Walden Island to complete the triangulation, and Sandy asked me to go with him to book. So we finished packing, and went on board "Polarbjorn".

It was a dull day, which made our good-bye to Brandy Bay as little unpleasant as possible. They were all grand on board, and it's a marvellous ship, almost as good as a cross-channel boat! Meals on a table-cloth, civilized food and waited on by white clothed stewards. They have an echo-sounder on board, automatically registering all the time, and if the ship had drawn more water we would have run aground, as there is a bar in the mouth of the bay where it is only 15ft. deep. After about 3 hours we reached Walden Island, and one of the English-speaking members of Hoel's expedition came ashore too to help us with the building of the cairn: an incredibly active fellow, and we had great difficulty even in keeping up with him.

It's a precipitous island about a mile long, and it was very difficult to find a way up; the top was in mist when we started, but it was clear when we got there. However, there was a lot of fog about and it was quite dark, so that John couldn't see Scoresby Island through the fog, or Base mountain cairn on account of the darkness and because it's not on the skyline. I was mad about that. However, John definitely identified that this top where we found the old cairn fallen down was definitely the point to which he observed from Lindhagen. We helped to finish the cairn our Norwegian friend had nearly built, and then set out for home; he collected a huge pile of geological specimens for Hoel on the way back. We got a wonderful view of Snotoppen from here with the big re-entrant from Bird Bay, as if somebody had taken a chisel and cut a slice out of the hill vertically from the top to bottom.

We had refreshments on "Polarbjorn" when we get there, beautiful coffee and bread and butter: yes, I'll be seasick after all this, but it's worth it. Then all gathered for a birthday party beginning at midnight. We made a faux pas by giving our presents to the wrong man - they were 1lb of pemmican and a tube of Redoxon, which we had with us, for originally it was planned that we should be left on Walden Island and be picked up later by Heimland. However, this man misunderstood and thought we wanted him to act as interpreter, so he passed them on later to the right man - one of the seaplane pilots. A grand party, all imbibing much whisky. At last it ended, for Heimland came up and we changed boats, and to bed almost at once.

Saturday August 22nd.

Spent most of the day in a prone position: it's been pretty calm most of the time except when we passed the north of Hinlopen, where it was very rough and everybody retired to their bunks. It's dull and foggy, though, and at last I'm managing to get some sleep.

Sunday August 23rd.

It was quiet down the west coast, and quite early in the morning, before breakfast, we were in King's Bay. We stopped at New Aalesund, for the boat had some timber to discharge here. It was foggy going into the bay but then it lifted and we could get in, but the grand view was obscured by mist all over the mountains.

Went ashore with Robert to look around: not much of a town and the coal-mine is not working now, so there are only a few watchmen and their families living here, in quite nice-looking wooden two-storied houses of the north Norwegian pattern. We walked on to the mine entrance and near to the skeleton of the hangar of the "Norge" and the "Italia". The mooring-mast seemed disappointingly small. All of a sudden the mist began to clear, and revealed high steep mountains all round with most picturesque pinnacles. However, all that there was to be seen was seen in a short time, and we returned to the ship for breakfast. Hundreds of fulmars and glaucous swimming about in the harbour, and an eiderduck with young swimming untroubled within a few yards of the ship. The pier is built on the Vega - the ship on which Nordenskjiold made the first N.E. passage - which was filled with stones and sunk in position: she is such a strong ship that she won't break up.

The skipper had intended to go between Prince Charles foreland and the mainland - but the fog was too thick, as the strait is narrow and dangerous, so we had to go out to open sea. Wrote up my diary of the N. coast survey, and read John's excellent account, and gossiped with David - he and I share a good bunk and a bad one, and take turns about - and went to sleep when the ship began to roll in the evening.

AND THAT IS THE END OF THE JOURNAL WHICH MY DAD KEPT ON HIS FIRST ARCTIC EXPEDITION - NORTHEASTLAND - JULY 1935 - AUGUST 1936.

17th day. Tin Camp. 11p.m. 5th. August

Up at 8a.m. this morning, when it was calm and the sun shining in a cloudless sky. After breakfast we started off to climb Comb. Mt. It was terrifically hot. Half way up the hill John said "this should be a fine place for ptarmigan," and a few seconds later he saw three in summer plumage, all of which we bagged. We got a good view from the top - it is an important station - and were able to plan the next points to be visited. Considered for a long time whether to walk on to Mt. Conway afterwards or to walk there tomorrow from camp, or to portage camp nearer to reduce the distance; John dislikes long walks before theodoliting, but I prefer to go slowly and have a long day - but of course it is he that does the work. We decided not to go to Conway tonight at any rate. On the way home I just said to John: "I wish the glacier would calve" and before the sentence was finished there was a movement on the ice cliff, and a huge spray, and a few seconds later the sound of the crash reached our ears.

Home about 9p.m; ptarmigan to add to our supper - very good.

18th day. Tin camp. a.m. august 7th.

East meets West, as John says; today we occupied Mt. Conway (which has been our objective since we started) being the first station we have visited to (?) which John observed on the Survey journey.

There was no low cloud about when we started off about 11a.m. It was a long walk, and soon after we started the mist settled in various places, some hilltops, some valleys, and threatened us with no result to our walk. We decided that if we were unsuccessful we would portage the necessities of our camp into the neighbourhood of Conway, and then wait our chance to climb it. However, when at last we got to the top, the bays and the whole Platen peninsula were clear, and by observing to the Comb Mt. later when the mist cleared off it, we saw all that mattered. There was a cold wind blowing on top: we built a cairn and put a message in it and were glad to leave the cold summit when all the work was done. An hour later when we looked back there was a cloud on the top - our good luck is astounding. No luck with the rifle today, but we had an extra large supper tonight to celebrate our success, for we have reached Conway exactly a week before schedule. All the coast is now done, and we now start off doing the ice edge and the Rijps valley as we wend our way home.

John has now come to the conclusion that we will be back on the morning of the 10th. instead of 20th. - so now we have more food to enlarge the daily ration. We really are eating our fill nowadays.

A golden and russet brown sky in the north at midnight tonight. The sun is beginning to get lowish at night now: in three weeks it will be setting, another three brings the equinox, and then in three more it will set for the winter. I wonder if we will start for home before the sun sets? Beginning now to think a lot about homegoing, not because this journey is not enjoyable, but because one has so much time just to think over things: would like it best if this journey lasts until one week before the ship sails, and then we would have enough time, but not too much, at the base before leaving.

19th. day. Tin camp. 1a.m. August 8th.

We had intended to lie up for half a day to celebrate our reaching Conway, and have a rest, and also so that we would move off to the moraine above High Hill on a night surface. However, all day we have been in mist, making survey impossible and travel not out of the question, but as John wanted to take some observations on the way, we did not go. Only at midnight now, is it showing signs of lifting.

Nice to lie in your sleeping-bag and not to have to worry about anything. We lay quite a long time before breakfast. Since then we've been reading, mending, talking, and John taught me navigation. The trouble is that you want to eat so much, and though the food situation is good, it is so chiefly in pemmican and oats which is not the sort of thing you want when laying up. Of course we did not know the time at all, as the sun has been invisible, but we had a lunch of pemmican hoosh not long after breakfast and later decided to have half our supper pemmican hoosh for afternoon tea. Then at midnight it began to clear, so we have given up our supper and are having scones instead, and then to sleep, as we expect the weather to be better towards noon tomorrow.

21st. day. High Hill camp. 3p.m. 9th. August.

We have had a short day today. After 5 hours sleep John saw that though it was still fair it was looking rather threatening, so we breakfasted and set off for High Hill not more than 2½ miles from camp here. Quite pleasant on top, theodoliting and building a cairn. We saw the moon (last quarter) today - it's the first time I've noticed him for a long time. Supper when we got back, and then bed again.

22nd. Day. Rijps valley moraine camp. 4.30p.m. 10th. August

John announced this morning that we are now going home as quickly as convenient. Felt in good spirits this morning for the first time for months - always feeling lethargic this summer. We swopped our footwear for a change, for John has blisters, so I went ahead on ski. It soon cleared to be a glorious morning and it was exhilarating to slide along so easily on ski. We skirted a morass at first, then over some crevasses, still bridged with snow, and then a long trail to a nunatak where John theodolited - with an immense cubical boulder on top - John says it's the best natural cairn he's ever sen. After theodoliting we opened the boxes and made a poemmican (?) for lunch! It was windless and very hot, and got more monotonous afterwards, It's always a good view, but it changes so slowly. Then just when we were wondering where we were, on reaching the top of a ridge the whole Rijps valley lay in front of us - we had been going too far west before.

We decided to camp on a moraine point in the distance, but as usual, it was much further away than it looked, and it took us a long time to reach it. We had just been having crevasses and John went up to the armpits in one, and now we ran into streams again. There was very little water in them, but they had deep gorges and we had to go up two of them for a quarter of a mile before we could cross. Poor John can't manage the ski any better than I; it's so amusing to listen to him struggle. A nice camp on the moraine. We will be home in a few days now, and are eating much too much now!

23rd. Day. East Tijps valley camp. 9.30a.m. 11th. August.

Up at midnight: the weather was fair but there were streaks of mist in the Rijps valley below, and in an hour's time the whole valley was full of fog, and we could only see over to the West Ice nunataks over the top of it. This was unfortunate, as we have to find a good way across the valley, where the distance between the ice-caps is small, and where there are many snow patches on the way.

We went off at 1.30a.m. keeping high up - John in front with ski today - and had an uneventful day - very few and easy streams - except when we came to a region of old stream beds where there were high vertical walls of hard snow some three feet high to be crossed. After that we began to come down, and seeing that we must be in the best place according to the map we went right down into the valley, hoping that the visibility would be better there. It was not, though, for we could only see a few hundred yards. So we had to camp, and we are in bed now, hoping that the weather will clear soon. We're taking life easily now, and always read Nansen's "First Crossing of Greenland" before going to sleep.

West Rijps valley camp. 24th. day. 10a.m. 12th August.

I had not been looking forward to today, but it turned out to be one of the most enjoyable of the journey. By soon after 5a.m. the fog had cleared out of the valley, and we got up. First we started with a pack each until we found a snowpatch, and then left them and went ahead to reconnoitre: a little to our left was a small ice-cap with plenty of snow patches on the way. Between this little ice-cap and the East Ice was a lake, and the East Ice ended in a cliff into it at one side, and there were icebergs floating about in it: in October Andrew and John were surprised to find icebergs inland on the Leigh Smith journey, and it must have been these. So until we reached the end of this little ice-cap we got on by sledging over snow patches, and carrying the load and the sledge over the intermediate parts. Beyond the little ice-cap there was no snow to speak of, and we had to pack-carry for the four miles between there and the West Ice, and let the dogs pull the empty sledge.

We went for about a mile and a half with the first load, and then went back for another and the sledge and took it to where we had dumped the first load. With everything unlashed it was so easy to put up a tent and have a pemmican lunch, so of course we did. Poor John has had bad feet worse than ever today; his boots have been pressing on to his toes, so we changed round our footwear. We arrived here - the best camp-site we have had, about a quarter of a mile from the bottom of the West Ice, about 8a.m. after a most enjoyable day, for there has been so much variety and the portaging has not been exacting. We should be home in two days now, i.e. only one more evening to eat the food we have here, so we are overeating grossly.

25th. Day. Mid-west Ice camp. 1p.m. 13th August.

The first snow of winter fell today - a little while we were packing up this morning, and off and on when we were on the ice-cap. We were up about 9p.m. after the best camp of the journey - level, smooth, dry, near water and with a good dog anchor. John remended and retinned the broken runner, while I started portaging up to the ice edge. The portaging is so much easier now, as the load's so small; we have been eating our full recently, and have not much left, and it appears that one of our biggest pieces of luck was when we lost the dog pemmican tin, for since then we have only fed the dogs on the days on which they worked, and they have shown no signs of hunger, and have therefore been saved the energy required to pull that 50lbs all the way, and greater still, we have not had to portage it, and thus have been able to do everything in two relays only. John managed the dogs today, while I went ahead on ski. We met only one stream and that not a difficult one. At one time when I stopped I heard a roar like a train in a tunnel: it was a stream underneath, and digging about we found quite a small crevasse, but there must have been a lot of water flowing in it.

Progress became very slow, for, though all the morasses were hard, the crust was breaking all the time, making it very hard going, even on ski. Then we got into a region of crevasses, some partly open and some bridged, and John put his foot down one that was quite invisible. The sun shone at times making the surface worse, and at 10.30a.m. we decided it would be best to wait for tonight's frost, so camped. We feel so confident that we will reach the Advanced Base tomorrow, that John has made toffee out of the sugar and margarine left.

26th. day. Advanced Base. 1p.m. August 14th.

We were off about 11p.m. The crust was a little harder, but not enough, and the dogs, sledge and short ski sunk right in. John led on ski. It was a bit misty at first, and this kept on coming and going so that the landscape did not seem to change as slowly as usual. At last we got to the top of the Toil ridge - now clear and sunny - and an entrancing view over west NorthEastLand to Spitzbergen, with Mt. Newton standing up very clearly. To the right we could see the Old Man, then Mt. Franklin and Brandy Bay, and "490" the end of the ridge running back from Dog Point at the top of the Advanced Base glacier, and further to the right lay Mt. Toil.

John tried to make the last part less dreary by writing messages word by word in the snow, which I read as I reached them, but the short ski were at their worst, sinking deep into the snow even when the dogs don't. At last we reached the top of the glacier, but couldn't see the dump flag, and took a most unconventional route down it: John skied ahead, while I sat on the sledge while we went down at quite a good pace over smallish crevasses, but a safe route all the way. We thought we would have to portage at the end, and wondered if the dogs would recognise where they were when they reached the bottom: only Kangusenak showed any excitement, and he whined and howled and pulled, setting such a good example, that they took the whole sledge and load to the Advanced Base without much difficulty. We found a note from David saying he had been down days before, reporting all well and promising to come down again on the 18th., and saying where they had put the sealmeat they had thoughtfully brought down. At the end of a journey it is usual to make a hog of yourself at the Advanced Base, but we just didn't feel like anything and just took a snack before going to bed.

In the diary I have almost only said bad things about other people. I never seem to think of saying anything nice about anybody, but at the end of this journey I must just say what an ideal person John is to go on a journey like this with. Never for a second have I regretted coming, nor wished for anybody else to be my companion. I am sure he must often have got annoyed with my inefficiency, but never for a second has he shown any outward sign of annoyance. I will envy anybody who goes on a journey with him in the future.

Saturday August 15th.

Up towards midnight, and after a breakfast started to walk to the base. How much easier it is without pack, or rifle or anything. A cloudy day with wind and later some rain, but it was cool and I enjoyed the 19 miles walk and only stopped once for a few minutes to eat some scones. The sea was quite rough up by the base - curious to see waves again but in a week's time (if we have left by then) they won't be so pleasant.

Arrived at the base soon after 8a.m. G.M.T. and, as expected, found everybody asleep. So I settled down comfortably in the living-room, and while refreshing myself with cocoa I found a wire from Emily wishing me a good journey home - and a message from Brownie saying that conditions were bad and that he had sent off only part of my message home - just typical of him: never prepared to take any trouble about anything for anybody else, and the message he sent was quite inadequate. I just started getting the fire started when Archie came in, and soon all the others woke up and gave their news.

Andrew, Brownie and Robert had left at the end of July, picked up David and crossed Hinlopen to New Friesland. Here Andrew and Brownie started on their climbing trip, while David and Robert went back and fetched Dan and stuff from Murchison Bay, and started off home. David was dropped on Low Island, and while Robert and Dan had some fun with ice, David plane-tabled Low Island, and then they all returned to the base. Sandy and Karl were long overdue, and David and Dan were just going off in the whale boat to look for them when Vesteres - a sealing ship - sailed in with Sandy and Karl on board. They had had many adventures, and a successful journey. Dan's heart was not bitter and he had not tried his Klepper journey, but he went off on Vesteris to see how sealing is done, so we probably won't see him again. The ionosphere had just broken down and Archie has been as busy as ever packing: so far as we know! 'Heimland' comes on the 20th, but we haven't got through to Bear Island recently. In the meantime when John arrives we should be a pleasant party.

Talked for a long time and then did a bit of packing, and in the evening when the sea had fallen a lot, David and Robert went off to the Advanced Base to fetch John. Then I went to bed.

Sunday August 16th.

Woke up and got up hours before the others, and after packing and cleaning up, was just beginning to bake a cake when I saw the Advanced Base party coming: they had not stayed the night, but had patched the launch and got it afloat, and with the whale-boat in tow brought everything from the Advanced Base. They only brought Kungasenak and Merratark, for they had shot Ayo, Pamiok, Akuliak and Kayunguak, as they cannot be sold, poor things. I've now learned the meaning of 'a dog's life'. Robert and David slept in the open under the cliffs, and John in the ionosphere hut, while the rest of us got on with the packing. John and David were going off in the evening with the theodolite to Extreme Hock(?) and I to the Base Mountain to build a cairn, but the weather turned murky and it started raining, so it was useless to go: so I went to bed.

Monday august 17th.

After weeks of sleeping in fresh air in a tent, I just can't sleep in the hut; I tried for three hours last night,and then gave up, but in the perfect peace that reigned while all the others were sleeping, I managed to get on well with the packing. After breakfast John and David set off in the whale boat to Zeipel Bay, whence to Extreme Hock to theodolite; they dropped me at the Snotoppen glacier, whence I climbed to the top of the Base mountain. I found the old piece of a cairn there, and set to to build a really good one. After all John's patient instruction I wanted to build a really good one, and I took several hours over it and built a cairn bigger than any we had built on the north coast, and went home pleased with it, arriving only half an hour before the others. More packing in the evening when the weather got murky again. We got through to Bear Island: Robert could read quite a lot, Archie some, but I had forgotten it and was useless.

Tuesday August 18th.

Everybody packing hard. I swore I wouldn't go to bed tonight until I had done all mine, so that I could go over to Cape Hansteen tomorrow to theodolite, and thanks to much help, especially from Robert, managed it easily. A day of strong wind, driving mist and a heavy sea, but rather pleasant and cool outside nevertheless. It seems to be darker nowadays, and we have the lamp on quite a lot at night. Have taken to sleeping in the loft as it's cooler there.

Wednesday August 19th.

Packing is almost finished, and David Robert and I spent a lot of time when packing, gossiping in the loft! Eyes are continually turned towards the horizon, and in the afternoon a ship came in towards us and we saw two more on the horizon. Somehow I hoped none of them were "Heinlamd", as I didn't feel like leaving just yet; fortunately we soon perceived it was a motor ship, and so couldn't be "Heimland". It was "Viking", and they anchored and three of them came ashore, one of them a young German who spoke English well. We gave them some sort of a meal, and talked before they left. They gave Sandy and Karl provisions in Rijps Bay, and now we were luckily able to give them 2½ barrels of salt that they badly needed. After that we tidied up, and John gave me a theodolite lesson. David and I have been waiting for a good opportunity to get over to Cape Hansteen to theodolite today, but it has been too rough all the time. Robert and Archie got through to Bear Island; Heimland is due tomorrow at 2p.m.

Thursday August 20th.

We were to sleep long, for we expected to be loading all night. However, after much rain during the night it was calm and quiet, so after much difficulty in getting up David, and breakfast, we started off in the whaleboat with outboard. With the prospect of letters arriving when we were away, I've never met anybody as unwilling to come as David!

Soon after we started, we could see Heimland on the horizon beyond Low Island. It was calm, and we got over in practically no time. We fetched some things for Karl out of the Cape Hansteen hut, and then landed a little south of it on a beach, and pulled up the boat as far as we could. We had taken Pat with us for fun: he didn't like the boat at all but enjoyed the land, especially when he found some snow to walk about on.

Just when we had set up the theodolite and taken one or two angles, mist blew up, and we couldn't start. We sheltered behind the cairn, and David drew panoramas during the intervals. We argued for a long time as to whether we should go and as to how long we should wait for the mists to clear away, and just as we were coming to no conclusion it became clearer, though still windy and cold. So we cut down the work to a minimum so that we should finish it in case the mist blew up, and David booked while I worked the theodolite. My cairn on the Base mountain looked fine.

As soon as we had finished, we rushed off the top and returned to the beach only just in time. The wind had got up and the tide risen, so that the boat was on its side in the sea and full of water and the oars just about to float away, but luckily nothing had been washed out. We had some difficulty in getting the boat afloat and facing the waves, as each wave filled it with water again, but we managed it in the end, and got Pat on board and got away. The side of the boat had been a bit bashed and was leaking a bit, and we had to bale occasionally. It was a bumpy return - David in his element managing the little motor.

Heimland had arrived at the base when we were at Cape Hansteen - we heard the greeting rifle shots even over there - and we circled round her before landing. Letters when we got back - such depressing news about Daddy. Closed up boxes, and as it was rough and the crew of Heimland had been working long, loading was postponed till tomorrow.

1st. day. A camp. 10a.m. July 20th.

Got up soon after 6p.m. and after breakfast started loading up the sledge. When we were nearly finished, Archie, and Robert, with a damaged ankle, arrived: this was great relief to us, as it meant they would look after the Dupelik team. In the morning I had taken our sledge and half our load on the rigid to the bottom of the glacier and now we took the other half with a certain amount of difficulty, but Archie came to help and we all pushed to the bottom of the glacier. There we put everything on the Nansen (John is really an expert at lashing up a sledge) and towing the empty rigid, we started off at 11p.m.

It was hard work going up the glacier, but we reached the dump-flag eventually and from then on it was only slightly up hill; but though the surface was quite good, we could get no pace out of the dogs. We went uneventfully along the line of flags, all the time getting a fine view to the West and over to Spitzbergen. At the flag where the direction of the line changes we were rather stumped, as we didn't know how far we were from A or whether we had hit one of the V flags. We could only see one flag ahead, and it was always a bit misty on the higher side of our course. However, it cleared and then we could see a line of flags, and then all the way to A. We passed B without stopping and went on for a few hours until the clock said 9.30 but the sun 12. Very tired: out of training, and I'm not used to the short ski I've been wearing. We pitched camp quite quickly for the first time, and tied the dogs to ski stuck well into the snow.

2nd. Day. Wahlenberg Glacier Camp. 1.30p.m. July 21st.

Up after a fine sleep of about 7 hours in the tent which seems a success. It is adequately wide and there is lots of room below our feet, and at each side of the "sideboard" we have more or less a private locker. Our clock broke almost at once, and a few minutes later I didn't see the thermometer that John had stuck on the rigid, and knocked it off and it broke. It was misty when we went off and we saw that it was thick in the bay, which was a nuisance as we had to find our way down. We went down and down and soon found streams on the glacier: these we had to cross and they gave some trouble, as ski are such a nuisance then, but almost indespensible otherwise. A little earlier we saw a bear-track coming up the glacier - he's stayed too late in the south so he has got to cross the ice-cap to get north. It cleared, and we saw the way down the glacier. We made for the moraine at the side, and then stopped and went ahead on foot to look for the dump: this we found in the middle of an enormous river. John waded to it on stepping-stones, while I went back for the dogs to get the sledge down on the other side of the river, from which it was easier to reach the dump. All went well for a bit until I came to a stream in a deep and wide gorge, which I clearly could not manage by myself. So we decided to leave the dogs and take the sledge down ourselves. By going up and down each stream until we found a good crossing place, we got across them all and then down to the dump. It was all absolutely soaking, of course, and the chocolate, which was in tins which were supposed to be hermetically sealed, was rotten. We were furious with Cadburys. We threw away one tin and kept the rest hoping it would be better.

We got back up the glacier a bit before crossing any streams. First we tried throwing the boxes over, but John missed the opposite bank with a dog pemmican tin, and it went floating down the stream till John did a magnificent rugger tackle at it in the water. After that we bridged the streams with the sledge, and while John held it steady I handed the boxes over. We found the biggest stream bridged at one place, which was fortunate and the sledge got over all right though I fell through, but not seriously. We reached the dogs, and then by going up the glacier parallel to the streams we got up to where we had left the rigid with half the load. It was getting late, and we were very tired and the dogs couldn't manage the whole load, so we dumped about half the load, and taking things that were necessary we struck for the moraine on the East side of the glacier and reached it after a little more trouble with streams. We camped on land this time: it's drier and nicer except when windy. After supper we went to bed - still very hungry.

We must be a fine pair with our skis: neither of us can control them: my short ski are hopeless in streams, and I gave them up after a bit and wore gumboots instead.

3rd. Day. Wahlenberg Bay camp. After mid-day. 22nd. July

We did not sleep for long, and went off almost at once to fetch the rigid and the rest of the load. No new adventures. I found the aneroid broken in my windproof pocket - John had put it there without my knowing, so I probably crashed it on the ground! We then took the whole load down a tongue of snow for nearly a mile. Then we took part of it on the rigid down a narrow snow gulley and then over stones, but it ran terrible badly, and when we got to the beach the runners dug in, and even with quite a small load the six dogs and two men could hardly move it. So we left it and the dogs, and taking on our backs two 50lb pemmican tins and the theodolite, we went ahead to reconnoitre.

We went along the shore of the bay for a bit and crossed quite a big river without much difficulty where it was wide near its mouth. We then went out towards Carfax (?) hill, but kept to the left of it. It's wonderfully fertile here and we saw many birds, including a turnstone, and reindeer, and the ground was quite yellow with the Arctic poppy. At last, after a walk of about 7 miles, we reached another river near the end of the valley, beyond which there was sort of shelf ice, and we dumped our load - very tired - and returned. We took the dogs off the rigid, and went back and camped at the bottom of the snow tongue where we had left the sledge etc.

It's been wet and cloudy, but it is better to get this weather over now and then it may be fine when the survey starts. We don't get enough to eat with all this manual work!

4th. Day Lagoon camp. About 7p.m. 23rd July.

It rained a lot during the night, but the tent proved quite watertight. After breakfast we portaged the rest of our stuff down to the rigid, and then took down the Nansen with nothing but skis on it. It ran very well on the beach and John decided to risk taking loads of nearly 200lbs on it. So we proceeded thus till we met the first stream, and then returned for the rest, leaving the rigid and a note on it saying that all was well but that we found the rigid hopeless and were proceeding with the Nansen. After this first stream we had a fine run of nearly two miles, even if the rate was a bit slow. I went ahead to pick a route while John drove, then back again to fetch the rest of the load. Relaying is certainly a nuisance, but better than carrying everything!

We were very lucky in finding the big river bridged by snow high up. We made about 4 miles altogether, relaying in this way, before we found the runners wearing too much, and John decided we must portage the rest and take the sledge along empty. So we carried loads of about 70lbs in three loads, but we gave up before reaching the dump we dropped yesterday: we had been on the move about 20 hours and, tired out, decided to camp. Our last three days have been 27 hours long, and not more than 7 in bed. The portaging is very backbreaking, and the carriers dig into your back. It's funny how one occupies the mind during the day. I spent a lot of the time trying to think of all the New College dons! We are both very hungry: John shot at a duck but missed it; we refreshed ourselves at one time by digging sugar lumps into the margarine and eating both.

5th. Day Ivory Gull camp. 7.30p.m. July 24th.

There was more rain during the night, but the sun was up to tell us the time when we got up. After breakfast (how inadequate is 4oz porridge and 1 biscuit for this sort of existence) we carried our loads to the next river, and lastly brought along the sledge. The river was wide but very easy to cross. We saw about 35 geese slowly making their way across the lagoon. Beyond the river the ground was covered with hard snow, rather like shelf ice, cut up by many stream beds. The dogs could easily manage the whole load now, and we managed the streams without trouble though the runners bent badly, till when we were crossing quite a small one there was a loud snap and one of the runners was broken. This usually means the end of all things, but John devised a repair by cutting some of the ash off the handlebars and binding it on top of the broken runner, screwing the broken parts together and covering the binding with tin sunk into the runner in front to avoid catching. While John went ahead to find a way up on to the ice-cap, I started on the runner, and when he came back, having found a way up, we finished it together and also strengthened the other one in the same way. Then we went off again.

There was a very tricky stream to cross at the end, but I put crampons on my gumboots and this proved a very good combination. After that we had to carry everything up a steep moraine to the edge of the ice-cap about 150 ft above the stream. Just on the land at the edge of the ice at the top here we made a really nice camp: a glorious evening with charming view, and even the ugly Wahlenberg Bay looking quite pretty. Remembered another New College don! Feeling encouraged tonight: we have been slow, but we have reached the East Ice and finished crossing the Rijps valley.

6th. Day. First East Ice camp. 25th. July

It was beginning to get murky when we started off. Above us were rocks where many Ivory gulls were nesting, but none of them came near enough to us for us to add them to our larder. It was real hard work for us all at the beginning, getting the whole load over a lot of melting hummocks, John sweating hard and pulling in front and driving the dogs as well. At last we got over the hummocks and on to a hard honeycombed surface, good for the sledge and not bad for the dogs, though their feet bled a little. It was up hill all the time, and then we ran into a few smaller morasses which took us a long time to get out of. You are so helpless in them: if you wear ski you are almost immovable, for it is like walking in treacle and you can hardly move your feet: if you take your ski off - and in my case that takes a few minutes - you sink down probably well above the knee. The dogs just hate it too, and as soon as they reach the better stuff beyond they just sit down with the sledge still in the morass.

On and up without much more trouble from morasses until we got into a really big one and could find no way out. If only we had a decent sledge with turn-ups at each end all would be better, for then you can always put the dogs on at the other end and get out the same way as you got in. But to turn in anything but a very large circle is impossible. We sweated and pulled for ages, and in the end had to take half the load off the sledge, and by taking a very wide circle we got it down to some moraine running up from the Rijps valley, and then fetched the rest of the load. We had not expected these morasses on the East Ice and had left the toboggan bottom in the valley, and it would really have been a help now. Afterwards we had better luck, and on getting higher, we got on to drier stuff and at last pitched camp. It was clear by now and we got a good view back towards Wahlenberg Bay and to the north of Rijps valley. Still very hungry.

7th.Day Mid-East Ice camp. 2p.m. 26th. July?

It was fine and clear when we pushed off on quite a good surface. After a bit John noticed that he had dropped his gloves, and skied back to fetch them while I went on with the sledge. After a bit I ran into a morass which I could not see. It was no use going on and it took me at least three quarters of an hour getting it out again. Two men are really necessary for a sledge at this season. Got out just before John caught up after finding his gloves. After that all went well, the surface being quite good, and we got a grand view to the N and W, steering a course of 60º across the ice-cap.

I soon began to find that this ice-cap sledging is not so much fun, for though all goes well we could get no pace out of the dogs, and though the view is fine it changes so terribly slowly that you soon get bored. For about eight hours it must be bad enough, but we are doing about 12 hours a day now, and it is terribly monotonous. Remembered another New College don!

After a bit we took to reading in turns and I read the cricket part of the "Lonsdale Anthology of sporting verse and prose." Really I got quite absorbed in the players and the green fields, and then looked up to see nothing in front but six dogs and snow for miles and miles. We are now on to a tin of lump sugar, and have 27 lumps per day. I keep them all for sledging, and eat none in the first two hours after breakfast, then one each twenty minutes for the next nine hours, and then none in the last hour when the thought of the approaching pemmican hoosh (?) is enough to keep you going. The lumps help you to estimate the time if the sun is invisible. All decent chocolate finished now and we are on to the filthy wet stuff. How we curse Cadburys!

Eventually we camped high up on the ice-cap. We often make scones for supper now, and how glorious they are. We are about half way over the ice-cap and have just seen an ivory gull. Also a bear-track - apparently en route from Cape Leigh Smith to Rijps Bay.

John's opinion of the tent is going down: we pitched it rather badly today with the door too near the head, and also now the tin on the runners collects snow during the day, and in the tent drips continuously after our lighting the primus.

8th. day. Morass Camp. 3p.m. 27th. July?

Again a fine morning and the sun shining in the north when we started, but all the land was covered in a low mist. So we continued on our compass- course and avoided a few morasses and saw another bear-track. John skied ahead and navigated, while I drove the dogs. Then we began to get down into the mists - and morasses. Now we were really in for trouble, for the mists obscured everything. The dogs were soon absolutely demoralised, and we had to treat them with the whip handle to get them to move at all - and it broke. Old Ayo is rather done, and Pamiok absolutely knocked up. Whichever way we went the morasses got worse and worse. We found a bear-track and thought he would have chosen a good way up, but we soon had to give up following it, as it went too far off the course. I think John was over-enthusiastic today: it would really have been more sensible to camp and wait for clearer weather - as it was, we floundered literally for hours making practically no distance.

We dumped half our load and went ahead - there is no danger in doing this as we are leaving enormous tracks - but we only found more and more morasses and one or two streams. If only we could have persuaded the dogs to go down the bed of a wide shallow stream all would have been easy, but they hate the water and we couldn't manage them. In the end we had to turn back as we could not camp anywhere there, and returned to a drier patch near where we had dumped. It was not easy to tie up the dogs tonight, and in the end we had to tie them to two pemmican tins: one of them had had its soldered tag slightly torn so that there was a slight hole, and before long old Ayo had got it open. He is a wonderfully clever old beast. John noticed before they had opened it much. A wet camp, and we are soaking too - and ravenous.

9th Day. Van Otter (?) camp. 28th July

It's the ups and downs that make life so worthwhile. John woke after a few hours and saw the mist had cleared, but was too tired to get up and proceed, and went to sleep again, having unpleasant dreams owing to a troubled conscience. But it's as well he didn't, for when we were up at 10p.m. it was most glorious; the mist had cleared away, the sun was shining in a cloudless sky, the ice-cap was glittering as if it had diamonds scattered over it, the black land was quite close though we couldn't see much owing to the convex shape of the ice-cap, and out to sea we could see the islands of Foyn and Broch (?) and Charles Xll - and to be practical there was a beautiful frozen crust on the snow.

John went off on ski to find the way down while I got things out to dry in the sun, and made a new whip-handle, and did a few other jobs. John was not long and came back to say that our goal, Van Otter's Island, was below us, and the morasses were frozen hard on top; so after relaying just for the first quarter of a mile we took the whole load through the morasses without any trouble. We had a little trouble with the streams at the bottom, and Pamiok cut his foot badly in one, and we had to put a boot on it.

When we reached the moraine at the bottom we pitched camp - we have taken 8½ days to reach here, a bit more than we had hoped, but our difficulties have been great, and I think some people thought we would never make it at all. John theodolited, while I pitched the camp and substituted the tin from a dog-pemmican tin that we have just opened for the chocolate tin on the broken runner. We then had a lunch and set out to theodolite.

What a joy to walk on ones' feet and on land! At a big river we nearly had a serious accident. We have broken or lost most things, but as long as the theodolite and angle-book remain intact the journey will not be in vain. We crossed the river about 100 yds above the sea. I could cross it easily in my gumboots but could not get up the other side, so took off the carrier to hand to John who had already climbed up the snow bank. As I did so, the theodolite slipped out sideways into the fast stream and was hurtled towards the sea a hundred yards away. It was a terrible moment, but I dived at it as it floated away, and threw it on the bank. The water had hardly got into the case, and the bump on landing seems to have done no harm.

It was sunny and fine and there were lots of ducks at the water's edge, but it was an off-shore wind and we would not have been able to recover any we shot. We saw two reindeer very close on a snow patch before they ran away. By the time we had reached the top of the hill a mist had settled on it - John's usual luck - and we discovered we had climbed the wrong peak; so we trudged home, apparently tired as we both fell asleep when we sat down for a rest. A feast at night, including a tin of sausages to celebrate our arrival at van Otter's Island.

10th day. Earthquake camp. 2a.m. 30th. July

We had a good sleep and got up about mid-day. John built a cairn, and while he was doing so he thought he saw the site of the dump to the east of us, while yesterday he said he thought it was to the west. So he went down and brought some of it back, while I broke up camp and packed up and wasted time. When he came back we unlashed everything, and I went off with the dogs and empty sledge to fetch the rest. Had difficulty with one stream, but no more. On the way back the dogs got mad, and I could not stop them following their old tracks, so they crossed the bad stream at the same bad place. The sledge fell in and I hung on while they pulled it vertically up the bank, and I was dragged along for quite a time before another stream made them hesitate, and I got on to the sledge and safely back to camp. Unfortunately I lost a crampon: it was tied on by its canvas bindings to the sledge, but these must have broken, and since it is quite likely that it was in a stream that it fell off we did not think it worth while to go back and look for it.

Then we started off for the next camp, and reached it without any serious trouble, on a moraine stretching far into the ice-ocap. The streams, of course, slow us up terribly, but they are rather fun, and each presents its own crossing problem. We are always so afraid of breaking our runners again. Today our method of crossing was thus: a bit more than half the load was lashed permanently on the sledge and the rest quickly lashed on top. At a stream we would take the top load off, throw it over the stream, then throw the dogs over, then John would jump over at a convenient place, and, with a rope on the forearm he would pull and I push and let the sledge down gently until it bridged the gorge. Then we would attach the dogs, and pull it up the opposite bank. The tail of the sledge always dips in, but with a lightened load the runners stood up to all the shocks. What will happen when we meet a stream that John cannot jump or the sledge will not bridge, we don't know.

Supper and bed after reaching camp, as we have had too long a day to do any theodoliting on top of it. Great jubilation, for there is lots of man-food, dog-food and paraffin in the dump - and also an undamaged tin of ovaltine chocolate.

11th day. Calamity Camp. July 31st.

We visited Bear head this morning; it was fine and hot walking there. The usual procedure when we occupy a station is that while John's setting up the theodolite I take photographs all round. Then he takes a round of azimuth angles, which I write down and work out differences and means, to see that he makes no obvious mistake, then elevations; then he draws a panorama of the coast and ice edge and then takes depression angles to the coast and angles to conspicuous points of the ice edge. At intervals, to keep warm, we build a cairn. We saw two divers on a lake on the way home, but had no luck with the rifle. When we got back we had a lunch before moving on, and felt a big "firnstoss."

Soon after starting, we met a bigger stream than ever. John jumped across and we did not doubt but that we would manage it in the same way as the others. We threw the dogs and some of the top lashing over and let down the sledge very slowly. However, the gorge was nearly too narrow, and with sloping banks each side, and we slowly slipped down and all finished in the stream. It was a fast stream, about 18 inches deep with an absolutely smooth ice bottom, and we were swirled down at 8 or 10 miles an hour, hanging on to the back of the sledge and hoping to jam it at one of the many turns, but it was always much too smooth. After a bit John turns round and says "this will end in an ice-cavern" (they all go underground at the edge of the ice-cap.) Still we were whirled along helplessly, and after about a quarter of a mile John says "Get out" - he had nailed boots and managed to scramble out, but I could get no grip at all with my gumboots and was swept along for another 100 yards, where the stream split into two and strong eddies had made deep furrows in the bottom, and I managed to stop and get out.

John meantime had raced down the bank and caught the sledge at the moraine by a boulder. I had banged my knee badly and scraped all the skin off my left hand (and lost a mitten) in trying to get a grip on the bank. No serious damage to the sledge except that the handlebars were broken. We took everything up to where we had tried to cross the stream, and decided to camp and get warm and dry and carry out repairs, and then go on tomorrow. Unfortunately there were still some things on the other side of the river, and John jumped over to throw them over, but when he tried to throw a dog-pemmican tin it was too heavy and fell short, and it was whirled down the stream. We ran down the banks for a bit, but never saw it again. For the next boxes I threw a rope over, and John lashed it round the box and threw it, while I held the rope for safety, and they all came across without loss. And so we camped, very wet, but our losses have been surprisingly small - one dog-pemmican tin (8 days), one mitten, one pair outer gloves and two pairs inners, some lumps of sugar and some margarine.

12th day. Question Mark Moraine Camp. August 1st.

Up about 12. After breakfast, I went ahead to reconnoitre while John mended the handlebars. It was rather morassy, but not bad, and then I came to a stream I did not try to cross alone - on an expedition it is foolish to take unnecessary risks, and it's not fair on the others - but it seemed to be the only one, and this one did not look as if it would give much trouble. So I returned to camp, and with a view to lightening our load and making it more convenient we went through all our things and threw away the clock, three komagers, our 1 gallon tin of paraffin (now half full) and some other articles, and thus managed to do with one (?), and this with the loss of the pemmican tin made a lot of difference. Then we started off.

The morassy stuff gave us no trouble and when we reached the stream we tried a new method of crossing it. We threw the dogs over - we did not disentangle their traces this time, and did not throw at a good place, and they were all washed down the stream for about 50 yards, until one got a grip on the bank and they all walked out, shook themselves and rolled up in a ball. We then unlashed all the load, and John jumped over with a rope and we let the empty sledge over slowly and jammed its bow into the bank, and John stood on the bow to keep it steady while I passed things over, using the sledge as a bridge. It's a good thing too to tie the dogs on to the sledge, for they get such a wonderful grip and if the bridge slips and the sledge goes in, we do not lose it. Our policy now is safety rather than speed.

Unfortunately I lost the other crampon in the stream today - I had not tied it on adequately and it was washed off my foot. As long as we are among streams we do not lash up the sledge, as it all sits on so well, and thus we waste little time at each stream. The next stream was wide and splitting and by choosing our route we crossed a lot of smaller bits without taking off the load, and went through the last part where it was 15 ft. wide, and correspondingly shallow and slow. As we were approaching the moraine we saw something on the snow just ahead, greatly excited, as we naturally hoped it would be an 'Italia" relic, but it turned out to be Andrew's balaclava and a candle end left in a camp on the Leigh Smith journey in November. A good camp in the moraine: John theodolited while I put up camp.

13th day. Question Mark Moraine Camp. 5a.m. August 2nd.

It was a murky morning, and we were not sorry: slept on and mended windproofs etc and read a bit. Then the weather improved and we went off to Canine Point, where it was cold and windy and we were glad of a sheltered ridge from which some of the work could be done. On the way we found that both the next streams are bridged a little lower below the level of the camp, and there appeared to be no more streams further on. Many birds on the cliffs of Canine Pt. We have lost nothing today, nor have we got wet!

14th day. Half-way camp. 2a.m. August 3rd.

A bank holiday in England, I suppose, but not for us. Moved on to our next camp, over the glacier, and this was easy as the crevasses were obvious and must have drained all the water, as we met no streams to speak of. Then after pitching camp we went to theodolite on Glacier Point, and did the usual. We saw a fine spout of water in the moraine, where one of the ice-cap streams that go underground when they meet the moraine, spouts out again. On the way home we had some difficulty in finding camp again, for we had not observed our position carefully, and returned by a different route. A big supper at night with many scones.

15th. day. Half-way camp. 4a.m. 4th. August

It was sunny and very windy at breakfast, so we did not start out immediately afterwards, but John improved his "Emir" balaclava which he made the other day out of a vest to replace his lost balaclava, while I, I'm afraid, slept - my hand is always painful in the morning now, and it keeps me a lot from sleeping, as I can't get into a comfortable position. Poor John, he had to do a lot of things nowadays that I cannot manage with one hand and teeth etc.

Then we set off for Flat Pt. (or Cape Brunn), promising to be our largest walk up to now. In the sun it was very hot walking. I have only two things to complain about John, one is his pace of walking, which compels me to run at intervals if I am to keep up; and the other is that he likes very thick pemmican hooshes, while I like them thin. When we got to the flatter beach John shot a duck which we thought we could recover, but we couldn't and it went slowly out to sea. We must have passed near a skua's nest as two of them flew round and round and pretended to have broken wings to divert our attention. We (mostly John) shot 14 shots at them, but killed neither.

At last we reached the top of Flat Pt. where we found a cairn partly tumbled down and a stone with the initials B.M.T. and O.N.T. scratched on it. We think it must have been put up by Nordenskjiold's men. Afterwards we ascended the Camel's Hump to theodolite again and on the way John killed the skua first shot. We returned to camp after a long day (during which I lost my balaclava), and we were glad to have the skua to help to satisfy our big appetite.

16th. day. King Edward Vlll Glacier or Tin camp. 1.30a.m. 5th. August.

We had a good sleep of nearly 10 hours: it was hot in the tent with the sun shining on it, but below and around it was misty, so we could not move as we had to cross the glacier. Did various jobs - we both made mittens and gloves out of old stockings - and I cleaned my hand. It got cleaner slowly, and at 6p.m. we decided to lunch and then get away. We are getting on so well that we hope to be home a few days earlier than expected, and are eating three days food. John still very hungry.

With the clear sky the ice-cap surface was frozen hard, and though very rough it was a good surface. John went ahead on ski while I managed the sledge - a good arrangement, and we went better than we have for a long time, the dogs showing some signs of life. We had one bit where there were smallish crevasses; rather fun as you knock pieces of ice down, and as they fall you can hear them hit the side emitting a higher and higher note the further they fall. Merratark fell down one that was nearly full of water, but got out quite easily. Pamiok has been pulling better today.

Suddenly we found the streams flowing in the opposite direction, and on our left was a hollow in the ice-cap - the ice must be very thin here. As we neared the edge of the glacier we came into a region of melt hummocks, and we left the sledge and prospected ahead. We saw that we could get off the glacier on to the moraine without any difficulty and since it was no use taking the sledge over the hummocks we pitched camp on top of a bit flat hummock. The bay is still full of mist, so we are going to bed hoping it will clear as the sun gets higher tomorrow. A few yards away a small stream flows into a crevasse with a deep gurgling note - as if we were in some power house.

Barter has started: John is always hungry, but I am getting enough now and don't think much of the wet Cadbury chocolate, so am bartering 1 slab of it, 8oz, per half a slab of ovaltine chocolate (ie 2½oz) - he gains enormously in quantity, I in quality.

Monday June 15th.

Lots of rain early this morning. After Robert had shaved and let Karl cut his hair, I set off for the Advanced Base with the rigid and two seal carcasses for the dogs when they arrive, pulled by Euphemia, K2, Pat and No.8. Brownie ran ahead for some hundred yards at the beginning to start them, and Robert came 3 or 4 miles as he wanted to shoot seals on the way home. Usually one of us ran in front while the other sat or ran behind, but on occasions we both ran behind and I drove them. When Robert left I led them for about an hour at about 6 miles an hour with only one stop of about two minutes, and when we reached the driftwood cairn I was much more tired than they: they were much too energetic to lie down while I resected (?) myself there.

Once again I got a different position according as to which trig. points I used - I think 225 is not very accurate, and so I used Mt. Franklin, David's Cairn and Observatory. I drove the puppies for a bit down to Boat point, but they go much better when led, and since I think it is a good thing to get them really used to pulling as a team, I led them most of the way and only drove them for short intervals afterwards. Resected myself again at Boat Point and Black rock before going to the Advanced Base, so we had to go off the direct course, but nevertheless we got in by 9.30p.m., which was awfully good going. They really are fine the little Blacks, especially Pat and K2. Euphemia is most enthusiastic, but was a bit tired at the end; No.8 did quite well, but is the weakness of the team. Now they are prowling about outside, tails up as usual, but they are a little unhappy at being away from home for the first time. What a change since I was here ten days ago! All the snow is off the bay now and you have to splash most of the way through water, which, however is not objectionable and means easy going. All the snow is off the ground too, and the whole place looks quite different. Sandy and Andrew not arrived here yet. Feeling most pleased tonight.

Tuesday June 16th.

A fine day. With difficulty I got the puppies to take the rigid to the bottom of the glacier. After that we all went out plane-tabling: going cross-country now is difficult: streams to cross, stones to clamber over and beds of deep soft snow to wade through. With feet still painful made slow progress, but got some work done. The puppies think quite a lot of plant-tabling, and sit around respectfully - usually in the way - except Pat who always insists in sitting in between the legs. Saw the sledgers going down the glacier, but it was a long time before I got back. They were in bad tempers: they had sledged 50 miles, found nobody at B, and then complained that the Advanced base was in a frightful state. Really only tiredness can excuse such fussiness; I had done a certain amount of tidying up in the morning, but it's mad to waste such a rare thing as a fine day doing that; the floor was certainly untidy, but that cannot have inconvenienced them at all, and there were some dishes long left uncleaned by Brownie or Robert or Karl, but they had their own utensils with them so that needn't have upset them. Those two are the untidiest members of the expedition (John excepted!), but after a long day, I suppose, one expects to find everything perfect waiting for you. They seem certainly to have done frightfully well on their journey, and done almost all that John and Archie probably will be unable to do, as they are being held up so much by bad weather. Now all plans are being changed: Sandy and Karl are going off to Rijjps Bay to geologise, and help cairn the Rijps valley, while Andrew and Robert survey the Rijps valley and Wahlenberg Bay.

Wednesday June 17th

It rained hard during the night, but cleared in the morning - or afternoon, as we overslept very long. I got up to do the breakfast and on going outside saw two reindeer, with good heads, about 100 yds away and walking straight towards the hut. I called the others to get up and help tie up dogs, but they and the dogs were too tired still to take any notice and I got them all tied up except Akuliak who saw the reindeer when they were but 40 yds away and put them to flight, returning himself in half an hour. Sandy and Andrew went off after a bit, two sledges and they took my puppies to help, so I've been very lonely since then. Incidentally they left the floor in just as much of a mess as they found it! The clouds were still on trig. stations so I couldn't do anything, and though they lifted later it was not definitely clear till late, when I had already decided to give my feet a rest from the boots today and have a long one tomorrow.

Thursday June 18th.

Got through a little plane-tabling, before clouds on hill-tops and then snow put an end to it all. Gumboots are definitely the footwear now, and I have been most comfortable all day. Shot a duck on the lagoon late this evening, and enjoyed fried ivory gull for supper. A rotten selection of books here. Snowing now, so we will probably miss the eclipse early tomorrow morning.

Friday June 19th - Tuesday June 23rd.

Have got so out of phase with the clock recently that a daily diary would be too interrupted by new dates. I got out of bed at 5a.m. on 19th to see the eclipse: it was snowing very slightly, but the sun was visible through the clouds; too bright to look at though, and since I had no dark glasses, decided bed was better. At 2p.m. left for base, and arrived there at 6.30p.m.: a dull walk - I'm tired or the main road between the two bases, the view changes so slowly. There was an abundance of seals out - never seen so many before though it was a dull day. It's funny the way things get on your brain: almost all the way over the bay I pictured and heard old John B -"he died of enteric fever - Er ist an einem Nervenkranken gestorben." It seems wrong; I can't get it right!

All were in bed when I got there except Karl; the early morning ionosphere runs have upset times a bit. Sandy and Andrew said they would be at the Advanced Base at 9p.m. that evening, but of course they weren't. It's always like that, and yet they get annoyed when they arrive a day late at A to find that Robert hasn't waited. The last of the eclipse ionosphere runs took place 3.30 to 7.30a.m. every half hour on the morning of 20th. All the others got off at 1.m. that afternoon with all dogs and puppies, except Kayunguak who had gone off after reindeer. It was raining hard, and we had some difficulty getting the puppies on to the sledge, especially as the ice is all broken at the shore and we had to jump from floe to floe. They are going to evacuate A, and then start off on their survey. Noticed an hour afterwards that Robert had left the plane-tabling legs behind. Then to bed. In the evening we got through some messages to Bear Island - probably the last talk with the present crew there as they hope to change over on 22nd. Finished reading the Polar journey in "Scott's Last Expedition" - frightfully disappointed in it. Scott seemed beaten from the day he started, always pessimistic and complaining and with no suggestion anywhere of congratulations to Amundsen - most conspicuous, "we photographed ourselves by our poor slighted flag." Terrible.

I started off at midnight to go over to the Valley hut to fetch my gum boots and some other things of Karl's and the sail off the roof of the hut. Another dreary trudge over the bay. Back at 9.30 after quite a heavy pull, but I'm glad at last that this is done: it's been on my conscience for some time, and travelling over the bay ice may become impossible any day now. There were eight eiders swimming on the large tide crack in front of the Valley hut. Brownie shot one in Zeipel bay in the evening, which we ate roast next day. I made a new planetable outfit out of the auroral camera. Special solstice ionosphere international day began 4p.m. 22nd. with a run each hour until 4p.m. 23rd. We are getting so quick now that we have done almost all the developing as well - up to 1p.m.

Poor Karl turned up in horrid weather on evening of 22nd, having walked 28 miles from Ice-cap to fetch the plane-table legs. Why Robert didn't come himself we can't understand: it's just the sort of thing that Karl doesn't like being made a dogsbody for anybody else, and unless there was a real reason it was tactless of Sandy to send him. Karl's devotion to Sandy is astounding - and Sandy certainly always is frightfully nice to Karl. The reason why Karl wanted the sail taken off his hut was that he thought the whale boat will sell better if it has a mast and sail - "poor Mar Glen is having such a time with the finances." Old man retired to his bunk "for an hour's smoke", and woke up 15 hours later. Great state and rushed off expecting a raspberry from Sandy for being so long.

It snowed with very strong wind during the night - at midsummer. It's about time we got some sun and summer. The ice seems loose to the north, for the NNW wind has just formed some small pressure ridges off Cairn Point. We wish the wind would reverse and push all the ice north of the point away. I spent many hours during the international day skinning the duck I shot at the Advanced Base the other day. I thought it was just an ordinary duck, but - according to Karl - it rarely comes up here, and only during hot summers. I miss the little Blacks a lot: it's the first time we have had no animals here at all, and it's dull not seeing them when you go outside. Pinkiak, Pat, K2 and Euphemia are such characters that it is always a treat to see them.

Wednesday June 24th.

One of us was to go to the Advanced base today to fetch back some things and the four puppies that are not being used on the journey to Rijps Bay. Brownie has always said that only one of us need go, and as he always says he enjoys walking so much, and I am fed up with it, I'm afraid I shoved him off alone. But it was a most unpleasant day with light driving rain, and I'm sure I have a lot more work to do here than he has - or would do, at any rate. So he went off at 1 p.m. I had a profitable day here: developed the remaining strips, cleared up all round, got all the meteorological records in order and also the day-ozone ones, and got on well with the auroral ones. While doing this, I had on the gramophone all the records not in our usual repertoire of about half a dozen, and found a few more worth while.

Quite a lot of ice has been pushed into a pressure ridge a few yards from the shore in our North Bay forming a wall at times 8 or 10 feet high. Wish we had seen it forming. Small leads here and there, and the ice is rather treacherous - I went through with one leg once.

Thursday June 25th.

Brownie returned soon after 7a.m. this morning, empty-handed as the others hadn't returned from A yet. I was furious, for it only means I'll have to go down now, and couldn't help asking him why he didn't wait a bit for the others. "I didn't want to stay at the Advanced Base, and besides I've got a Times report to get off," was the reply. Well, it doesn't matter when in the next two or three weeks the Times despatch goes off, and it was obvious the former was the real reason. Typical of him: he's often helpful in small things but his whole life's thought is for his own comfort and convenience. Well, I'm jolly well going to wait till the weather gets better, and am not going off on a day on which I cannot do some plane-tabling on the way. Driving sleet and snow all day. Brownie got through a lot of the Times despatch to the Post Office this evening: the radiator seems to have developed a leak, and before he noticed it, all the water ran out and the engine seized. However, it recovered and afterwards I filled up the radiator every quarter of an hour, to avoid a recurrence.

Friday June 26th.

Driving rain, snow or sleet again almost all day. Had an involuntary bath today when a 10 sq. ft. lump of ice broke off the floe I was standing on and toppled me in - just on the shore: surprised to find how warm the water felt. Brownie finished sending off the Times report this evening; today the radiator didn't leak at all. Brownie shot an eider in the tide crack in front of the base - it is now about 20 yds wide in our bay - but it seemed to get away. In the evening, however, it floated down on the tide and I got out the whale boat to fetch it, and to see what needed to be done to the boat.

Saturday June 27th.

Brownie said he wanted to go to the Advanced Base, so I was greatly relieved. It's difficult to get on to the ice now as the tide crack is so unsafe, and I fell in when trying to find him a way on to the bay near the point. Busied myself making a harpoon, rope grommets etc for the boat. Still windy, but only showers of rain and snow.

Sunday June 28th.

A day of real tragedy: at 7a.m. Brownie rushed in all wet: he was bringing a sledge back with Upik and four puppies and - he hadn't taken an ice stick - came too near to the land and the sledge had gone through the ice some 40 yards from our point: he had no knife to cut the dogs' traces and only managed to get Fatima out of her harness before he kept on going through himself and had to swim and break his way home. We both tried to get out to them again on ski, but it was no good, and he lost another pair and I lost one.

The only thing was for me to go out in the whale boat, but it took me two hours to make that 40 yards: the ice was rotten but thick and spongy - you couldn't stand on it, but it all had to be broken for the boat to get along, and under the surface the ice wouldn't crack, though it was easy enough to pierce. Fatima walked to the boat, I lifted her in and she rolled herself up contentedly in the stern, but unhappily when at last the boat reached the sledge, Upik, Euphemia and Fuzziak were all drowned and only No.8, who had found a firmer piece of ice and sat on it, was alive. I cut all the traces and got No.8 and the sledge and most of the contents on board. But having got out there it proved almost impossible to get back against a strong wind; the ice certainly was rotten, but even where broken it obstructed the boat when going backwards just as much as when unbroken, and you had to push the ice away, but there was no place to push it to, and of course the oars were difficult to manage. I tried to turn so as to go bow first, but that was quite impossible. I made an easy 6 yards in the first few minutes, but in the next hour not an inch, and the rotten oars began to break. Brownie, who was very exhausted, tried to throw a line, but in vain, so I just had to "swim" it too and bring the rope as far as possible. There was a long thick rope on the stern of the boat,and to this I attached quite a long piece of trace rope as this would be easier to swim with. So I jumped in: it was a curious experience, for the ice was too rotten to support you, and you had to break it with your fists or elbow, and then swim along breaking the ice every few yards. Got to shore safely with the help of a line from Brownie for the last 10 yards through open water, but I had had to drop the boat rope after taking it about 15 yards, as it was sinking and impeding me. A rush to the hut: my feet and hands were absolutely numbed, and Brownie undressed me and gave me a rough dry, and with a drink of rum I crept into my sleeping-bag. It took a long time to get warm and to get to breathe normally, and as I lay there I was thinking that it is probably commem. Sunday at Clifton - probably everybody hot in their best clothes and packed like sardines in Chapel to hear exactly the same service as they hear every year. After about an hour I was warm and got up to have another dry and put on another dry pair of pyjamas, then slept warmly for some hours.

After a good meal we started off on the second rescue at 8p.m. We managed to get Karl's dory out of the house and launched it, and (this time with a shore line attached) after a long time in the unsteadiest of boats at last reached the end of the rope, and Brownie pulled in both boats till we stuck, but then we could just join the thick painter of the whale boat to my thick shore line, so proceeded home in the dory under my own steam and we both pulled in the whale boat: Fatima and No.8 were none the worse for their adventures, but were glad to run about on the shore. But poor Upik, it's terrible to think we'll have her no more. The biggest loss really was poor Brownie's beautiful shot-gun, which was lying on top of the sledge and must have gone right through, as I couldn't see it anywhere. A terrible day.

Brownie had found the sledgers at the Advanced Base: they had finished evacuating A and were hoping to leave as soon as the weather cleared.

Monday June 29th.

For a week now the temperature has never been above 33℉ nor below 30℉, and the wind between 18m.p.h. and 30m.p.h. from N.W. After such a day we were thinking of going to bed soon after midnight, when a sledge was seen at the edge of the ice and two people behind. We shouted to them to keep away: it was Karl and Robert, and when Karl had fallen through once they left the sledge and landed at a safe place. We got out the whale boat, and Karl, Robert and I went out in it to the ice-edge and broke our way into it a bit. Then Karl got out, and with the help of the ladder went up to the dogs and cut their traces. Then we broke the ice and rowed up to the rigid and rescued everything, tho' very wet. Getting back against the wind was difficult but with three of us it was possible, and we got out of the ice and then crawled along its edge to the shore, and then Brownie towed us round into the harbour. They had come to fetch and bring one or two things: owing to the persistent bad weather's having wasted so much of their time, they've given up triangulating from Rijps Bay to the Wahlenberg Bay, and wanted a time signal set so as to fix the latter astronomically - though when he was here and Andrew suggested it Sandy said it would be quite inadequate!

Tuesday - Wednesday June 30 - July 1

It has been snowing hard and the ground is all white. The stream has stopped flowing, but there has been a lot of pressure to the north - there is quite a high pile at Bear Point - and from the ridge just beyond the tide crack we can select conveniently sized pieces of sea-ice for melting to water. It is not very well known that sea-ice becomes fresh during the period intervening between its formation and the end of the first summer thereafter. Spent most of the time getting things ready for Robert and Karl. They left about 6a.m. on Wednesday - we carried the sledge and stuff to beyond Cape Upik and got it out safely on to the ice there and they got away without accident. Earlier in the morning Brownie had got through to Johnson, but again he was in a hurry. He really had been disappointing. It's kind of him to deal with the traffic at all, but he might do it thoroughly: time and again he has been unsatisfactory - busy or going away - and we could quite likely have found somebody else to do it who would have been more reliable.

Written 7p.m. Friday July 3rd.

Days and dates are quite meaningless now. I am trying to get back to normal by a thirty hour day, 20 up and 10 in bed: it gives me a better chance of being able to sleep. Yesterday morning before breakfast Sandy and Karl turned up, chiefly to bring a message to be sent to England. It's always pleasant to see Sandy alone. They went back again after a few hours. The Wahlenberg Bay journey has now been postponed until it can be done by boat at the same time as relieving David and Dan, as the bay-ice is so unsafe, and Robert and Andrew are going to Lady Franklin Bay to map there. In the afternoon we got a small seal in the water in front of the hut with the short rifle: Brownie is a fine shot with it, and is getting eiders with it now. Today the wind is blowing out of the cliffs from the N.E.! It's finer, though, and promises better for the future. I dug a pit in the glacier today - but there were only two puppies to play, so sad.

Written Thursday July 9th.

The time is more and more upset. But what does that matter? The great advantage of this place is that you are not limited by time boundaries. I've only been able to sleep once since Monday morning! The feature of Saturday July 4th was that the sun shone for a few minutes. What the expedition as a whole wants is sun permanently and calm mixed with strong southerly winds to drive away the ice. On Sunday morning - again sunny - we saw some loose dogs coming along the shore towards the base, and on going out to Cape Upik found Robert and Andrew - this time they had come back for the co-ordinates of Mt. Celcius. They stayed overnight, and later a fox wandered up to the house: only Kayunguak saw him, but the fox made a false move and escaped from the dog into the engine-room, where we shut him in and got the camera and took some photographs of him. It was put in one of the cages to get more pictures in the morning, but the poor thing died during the night; it must have been absolutely starving to come up to the hut, but it would eat nothing.

The open water in front of the base is getting bigger and bigger and our larder is full of eiders,but the seals only look up for a second when we've got the rifle, though when it isn't handy they are much more curious. I shot an eider with the short rifle the other day, but we couldn't get the boat afloat at low tide, and when we went out later the duck was eaten up by a glaucous gull. So now we only shoot if the boat is ready. I spent Sunday evening plotting out a new map - rather fun, but I'm afraid it was rather bad, as there was no instrument for drawing right angles. Robert and Andrew let on Monday afternoon - intending to do a little survey on the way over to the W. side of Lady Franklin glacier. Then when they have finished that side, Andrew is to leave Robert in a camp on the E. side of Lady Franklin bay, and Andrew comes home with the dogs, and I go and join Robert on foot and we plane-table from there to the Advanced Base, and from there up the E. side of Brandy bay occupying camps where Andrew has already left some food dumps.

I left at 5.30p.m. that evening and was out plane-tabling until 12.30 next afternoon - and probably travelled only 22 - 25 miles in 19 hours. It was fun, as the weather was superb and the two puppies came too, but the walking is still beastly, tho' improving. Brownie went out when I got home, correcting the coast along to the glacier. International day from 4p.m. Wed 8th. to 4p.m. Thur. 9th. At 10.10a.m. on the 9th, I heard two shots out in the bay, but saw nothing; but a few minutes later I saw a sledge coming and guessed it was John and Archie. We went round to Cape Upik to warn them of the ice conditions if we could. They landed safely at Merratark Island. It was really grand to see them both again, though they have had rotten luck with weather and Archie's rifle going wrong. John wants to go back to Cape Leigh Smith again and do the North coast, and wants me to go with him. I hope we will arrange it so.

Written 8.30a.m. July 18th.

Too busy to write for the last few days. We have assumed that there would be no objections to John's and my going off to Cape Leigh Smith, and have been preparing for the journey accordingly. The chief job has been the tent-sledge-boat. John's idea is that we must save weight as much as possible, and we must have a boat, so using the sledge upside down with the handlebars resting on a ration box and the bow on another as a framework, we built a tent of it by throwing the canvas of the boat (which we made during the winter) over the top, and anchoring it down with stones or snow on the flaps. We had to sew on part of the pyramid tent with the door in it, to enlarge the covering and to give us a reasonable door. The structure is made firmer and the canvas kept out at the head by lashing two ski sticks to the handlebar end of the sledge runners. We got the boat complete and tried it out one day. We both got in, but it was very wobbly, and when I got out very clumsily the boat went over and poor John was tipped into the water. We saw, therefore, that it would be better if the bottom were flatter and that it will be best with only one person it it, and made the necessary alterations. In addition Brownie made a toboggan bottom for the sledge to prevent it sinking so deep in soft snow that the boxes on the sledge are below the snow level and plough it up.

Andrew returned on the night of the 14th. He left Robert on Jöderin Bay, but when he got near the Advance Base he found all the ice had gone, and he had to abandon the sledge and walk all the way to the Base. On the way he found some eider's eggs, so we had our first eggs of the season. He was bringing the Blacks with him, but lost them on the way, which was bad news for us as we did not want the Dupeliks. After some time approved of John's plan and we really got down to things: there is the old Nansen sledge at the Advanced Base, apparently in quite good condition,so that will save us the difficult job of carrying ours down there. Archie has kindly agreed to go to Robert instead of me.

I spent most of the 15th. preparing and packing away all my things and leaving instructions about packing up instruments, for it is possible, but extremely improbable that we would arrive after the boat sailed and we would have to find our way to Advent Bay in the whale boat. Everybody most helpful. wind round to S.E. at last.

We started off to the Advanced Base soon after noon on the 16th: Brownie and Andrew came with us to portage our loads, and Archie carried some of ours as well as his own. We set off on the 17 mile walk with packs of about 39lbs each. We did not bring any dogs, as Andrew and Brownie wanted the Dupeliks for Spitzbergen, and we really wanted the Blacks (for strength and also in case we had to kill them) and hoped to find them at the Advanced Base, or on the way. However, Fatima and No.8 came of course, and naturally Amalortok came with Fatima - he's just cracked on her. These we couldn't get rid of and came all the way. Dupelik and one or two others persisted in following us as far as the Snotopppen glacier, before stones and harsh words compelled them to return to the base.

It was a warm and sunny day, and we took the walk of 19 miles or so easily, and we all enjoyed it to the utmost. We saw a large patch of open water in the middle of Brandy Bay stretching right over to Hansteen valley. If the E. wind (slight though it be) continues, it will help to clear the ice away if only the pack outside can get more broken up and go too. No sign of the dogs on the way; John lost one of the lenses out of his spectacles. On reaching the top of the ridge running back from Dog Point we got the most heavenly view of the Advanced Base bay, now full of calm blue water, surrounded by the red coloured rocks, all the colours brought out by the white ice-floes in the bay, and by the white of the ice-cap and glacier. In the distance Mt. Celcius and Spitzbergen were visible, but to the north the Seven Islands were obscured by clouds on the Snotoppen peninsula. No sign of the dogs at the Advanced Base. The others went to bed almost at once after supper, while John and I fetched the sledge from a little way along the shore and put up our tent. It was really hot that night, and I slept by the door, naked in only a single sleeping bag.

John saw a ptarmigan and young near a stream, when getting water.

Brownie and Andrew left about 8p.m. (17th.) for the base. Their help in portaging had been invaluable. John went with them to fetch the Dupelik team as there were still no signs of the Blacks. Archie stayed some time to do work on our sledge, he is such a good worker with his hands, and I spent the day getting more things ready for the journey - toboggan bottom to be remade, rope-ends whipped and eye-splices made, food collected, harpoon sharpened etc.

I was indoors at about 3a.m. (18th) when I heard a yelp and looking out there was Ayo and all the black dogs. They seemed hungry and routed round at old skins etc. and when they had found all the scraps they could I gave them a lump of pemmican each and tied up Ayo. Had a good sleep, and then went on with the jobs until all I could do profitably without seeing John seemed done. Seemed tired and so, though I hadn't been up so very long, I went to bed soon after midnight. Was awakened by the noise of dogs outside about 9a.m. (19th) - it was John arriving with the Dupeliks. What he must have thought of me finding me in bed I don't know, but it was a bad beginning. We put the Dupeliks in the doghouse and after a meal John went to bed, and I did some more jobs before going to bed again.