Monday 3rd February

A blizzard so that Andrew and David were unable to leave. The damaged rigid sledges were brought in and new handlebars fitted. I spent most of the day on maintenance - mending many rents in my windproofs, and putting pedritone on one of my pairs of komagers and on a pair of finneskos and a pair of gloves. Assaults on my beard are increasing in number and intensity; with an 'achtung-ping' it is gently pulled. Was up till nearly 3am, writing up diary.

Tuesday 4th. February

Up late, but in time for ionosphere run, with the news that poor little Leonidas was dead. I went out afterwards and found this to be untrue, but he was clearly in a bad condition and we brought him into the hall where it was warmer. When we saw him in the light, however, we found him in a simply terrible condition - too horrible to describe, and John kindly put an end to his life with a pistol shot. I put him in a coal sack with stones in it and took it right out to Cairn Point and threw it far out to sea. He had been caught for no scientific reason, but merely to help pay for the expedition, though we all signed agreements and the rules of the O U Exploration Club forbid hunting except for food. We have nearly all been against keeping these foxes, and have been as kind as possible to them in the way of feeding them and cleaning their cages out. As well as being sorry for the little fellow, I was extremely fond of him. Death has been severe on the animals of the expedition: Rudo, the generally favourite dog and the other nice ones Markujuk and Isijak, Annadark the most intelligent and friendly of the puppies, and now Leonidas. His death, however, is a relief, for it has been hateful keeping him in captivity all this time. If only I had noticed his condition some days ago we might at least have saved him several days waiting to die. He must have had scurvy.

Wednesday 5th February

After breakfast Andrew and I went along to the man-pemmican dump to see exactly where it lay in the better light, and also to examine again the course along the land up to the dump. Then after the ionosphere run Andrew took me for my first skiing lesson - with komagers and winter bindings. There is ot much to describe about this; it was exactly as I expected - I was rather rigid and clumsy and I fell backwards countless times and forwards only once (a good thing to do apparently). The slope we use is only just beyond the ionosphere hut; the surface was patchy and the wind strong and gusty.

Great cleaning up the bedroom in the afternoon. John made a wonderful spade to replace the broken one, and Brownie made another out of parts of the Benndorf (?). In the evening I acted as timekeeper for John who was continuing his astronomical observations; the timekeeper's job is to judge to the nearest tenth of a second on the chronometer the time at which he makes a short telephone ring following a longer warning ring.

Thursday 6th February

Up a bit earlier than usual this morning as there were a few extra things to be done to get the others off with the minimum of fuss. One of these was the catching of Ayo, but I could find none of the Blacks, though I searched right out to Cairn Point. After breakfast David went north to look for them and I went south.

It was a glorious morning, with a beautiful russet colour above the ice-cap. In England it would suggest a sunrise in 1½ hours time, but here it means 20 days. The wind had died down and the only sound was the lapping of the water on the ice shore. Shouting "Huk, Huk" all the way evoked no response, no echo. I had thought they may have visited the pemmican dump, but not a sign of them. About a quarter of a mile further along, as I was calling, out pranced the Oarks from behind a big boulder. This was encouraging, but they were making no footmarks on account of the hard crust, which was not so hopeful. They came with me for a bit and then came home. All over the place were our old tracks to confuse - and I never have shown any intelligence at all in the way of footprints. There were lots of old footmarks on the ice when I reached it, but they all looked old and nothing could be seen on the ice. I kept along the shore up to the glacier, but saw no tracks, tho' I saw other marks which worried me a lot. I thought of bears and around all was deathly silence; even the sea could not be heard; all I could hear was the continuous ring in my deaf ear. Then I would be startled by a thud, would look round expecting a bear but see nothing; then another thud in the opposite direction, and I realised it was only the ice readjusting itself under pressure. I shouted long and loudly at the glacier, and then turned back. On the way back I saw a very definite bear footmark on a softer patch of snow and wondered what I should do if I saw one now, as I had nothing but a box of matches for defence. Run home? - no, they do a good 20 mph.

On arriving back at the base found David had been equally unsuccessful. Andrew wasn't half as upset as I had expected - he usually is when something is amiss with his dogs - but David was very disappointed and fed up as he had been looking forward to this journey so much. Andrew suggested we should send a bigger party along to the bay ice and he, John, and I were just going off - David had offered to work the ionosphere as I wanted to examine those tracks in the snow again - when in ran Upik followed by all the others except Kungasenak. Andrew and David started off with Brownie after the ionosphere run and now that we knew the way got as far as Cape Upik without any difficulty, and there we saw Kungasenak racing home in the opposite direction, but he did not see us and raced past. I went home after him and found him howling lamentfully for he found the place deserted. After putting a trace on him he came docilely until he got near the team when he raced ahead nearly pulling me off my feet.

Sledging is such fun that I went with them as far as possible before I had to run home to do the met. Intended to ski with John afterwards but couldn't fit my boots into the skis and had to give up for the day. Was rather lazy for the rest of the day, but I was a bit tired after all the running about in the morning on top of only 5 hours in bed. Brownie came back at 8pm; they had reached Karl's hut and found him out. Brownie walked home with Dupelik who was too lame to go on, and had trouble with him on the way back. We brought him into the hall to get warmed and fed on bully soaked in rum; Colonel Sir Dupelik Dupelik is now lying stretched on the floor - drunk!

Friday January 31st - Sunday Feb 2nd

Others will probably polish off these days in a few lines, but to me the whole time was so novel and so enjoyable, that I must afford myself more space.

We were all to have helped to get the sledges along to the beginning of the bay ice, but unfortunately Brownie was ill during the night and he was in bed most of the morning. We postponed the time of departure till after 12.30 so that with John's help transmitting we did the ionosphere noon run and took the met readings at noon. Brownie got up a bit after breakfast, but he couldn't come with us and we left him at 1pm.

We got along all right for a few hundred yards, but then we reached a point where it was necessary to go up a short but steep slope of hard packed snow. The dogs were quite near the top when the sledge was at the bottom, but they (some of the blacks) couldn't manage it themselves and we all had to push and pull, quite unable with our komagers to get any grip at all. Time and again we would get it up and then some of us would slip and slide down to the bottom, and if one or two managed to hold it the others would get up again, but invariably after a few attempts the sledge would descend to the bottom again. We cut steps with an ice-axe, but then the dogs would go to one side and away from the line of steps. Eventually after over an hour's attempts somehow or other none of us slipped and it got safely to the top.

The dogs were pulling the rigid sledge with the Nansen lashed on, but after proceeding for a bit among the boulders, and having had several spills, the Nansen became loose and we had to take it off and leave it. We then went on rather unevenly with the rigid nearly to the bay ice and then while John stayed with it and the dogs, David and I went back for the Nansen while Andrew went back for Palase who had run home to his beloved Oarks ( all the dogs except the blacks were loose). After joining up again it was only a short way on to the ice where the loose dogs were put on the Nansen and off we went.

John and I had intended to help as far as the ice and then possibly accompany the others to the Advance Base and then walk home with some survey instruments. We had had a rather sweaty time reaching the bay ice and I think John was rather in favour of going straight home now, but I was determined to get away from the Base, and David saved the situation by suggesting that we should go straight on with them, arrive about 6pm, sleep from 9pm to 2am and then walk home. This pleased us all to off we went.

The surface was flat here, and since the sledge had practically no load we could all three ride on the back of the sledge, though we quite often had to get off and run to keep warm. The temperature was about -6℉ and we were going almost straight into a wind of force 4. The moon (half full) was shining rather milkily as we steered straight towards it, but the visibility was poor and we could not see Boat Point to which we should aim. The dogs went at an awkward pace - about 5 mph. - just too fast for a walk, but it was fun trotting behind with one hand on the sledge handle-bars. Once or twice we took some frozen chocolate for refreshment.

At about 5pm we saw that we were near Boat Point; here there were pressure lumps in the ice, and running was difficult on account of the poor diffuse light. It was just grand this sledging after months and months of pottering about at the Base, and I enjoyed every minute of it. The surface was more uneven after this and the visibility got worse, but it was smoother again after we had passed Dog Point, and John found the Advance Base without difficulty at about 7.10pm.

The first thing was to find Dupelik there with Dreng, and then in a few moments Hansigne was found - she will pup in a few days - but no sign of Wolle. Dupelik himself was lame, and Andrew thinks they must have found a bear. The hut had been left in a bad state, and it was sometime before anything was got going inside. The dog-houses had been completely filled with drift-snow and it was not till 11pm. before we got them emptied. Many packing cases were buried and had to be dug up etc etc., but at last the dogs were got to bed and we had supper with a bottle of champagne which was solid ice before we melted it out in the oven. There are three bunks, and with David choosing to sleep on the floor we went to sleep soon after 1am.

We had got so late that we abandoned the idea of walking back in time for the morning work, and so John and I were free to help Andrew and David to prepare for their journey, the start of which had to be postponed till Sunday 2nd. We didn't start till about 10.30am. and after breakfast went out to a gloriously clear morning; the hut is set in the prettiest of bays, and the moon was shining clearly in the dawn sky. There was no time to admire the scene, however, we had to dig up packing cases from several feet below the surface of the snow and fill up paraffin cans etc. Andrew and David found they had left the saucepan behind at the base, and since the journey is something in the nature of an experimental one - in food as in other things - it was a pity not to have the right utensil. Then a lot of time was spent hunting for candles, but none could be found. I got lunch ready, but it was a slow process; we naturally go for tinned food "ready for use", but these are frozen stiff and need a hammer and cold chisel to get out. Tinned meat pies solid, sardines frozen stiff in their oil, and then we had iced pineapple such as you would dream for on a hot day in England.

It's a cosy little place, the Advanced Base, not suitable for work but for talking and reading it must be grand. If only it had a good stove and easy to manage it would be ideal, but it's a smoky brute, and I haven't got used to it. It was during lunch that Andrew thought of the idea of going back to the base that evening to fetch the things, taking with us the dog food which is so badly needed at the base, and then start afresh on Sunday, and that two of us should make a dump of man and dog pemmican on the glacier before starting home, while the other two finished the preparations for the journey. Since they saw I wanted the sledging, David and John thoughtfully undertook the packing and Andrew took me under his wing.

Andrew started off with the Dupelik team, and I followed with the wild Blacks and lost a pemmican tin almost at once without noticing it. At first it was over the snow along the edge of the rocks at the bottom of the glacier, and then up the glacier itself. It was a case of riding at first, but then walking when we got to the slope. I got a bit behind, and when we stopped for the first time the Blacks were in a terrible muddle. After that Andrew and I changed sledges and he went ahead with the 7 Blacks and I had to follow with only 6 dogs, and that including lame Dupelik, and a heavier load. It was an unforgettable sight wending up the gleaming white glacier with black outcrops of rock all around, with the moon shining brilliantly and a faint aurora playing quietly straight ahead.

It was hard work; I had to push hard all the time with a big effort starting the sledge again when it stopped. Andrew had to stop several times to wait for me. It was extremely awkward to see, for my breath condensed on my spectacles, and if I took them off I could not see clearly. Andrew decided to push on yet further to the main dump; it was now not so difficult - not so steep and Andrew taught me some of the Eskimo words to shout at the dogs, and I had hardly to push any more. The dump could not be found, so we had to make another and mark it with flags.

I was bitterly disappointed not to be able to appreciate the view from the top owing to the spectacles difficulty, but the handicap was to become more serious now. All the dogs were loosed except Pamiok and Ayo on Andrew's sledge, and Dupelik and Dreng on mine, and we started down the slope. Andrew couldn't control his dogs, and nor could I mine. Andrew raced ahead but mine wouldn't start and I lost sight of Andrew. At last Dupelik and Dreng started off, but Andrew had to keep on stopping for me; I could never see him at all and had to trust the dogs to follow him. Then old Dupelik was lame and couldn't go very fast and I had to brake the sledge hard to prevent the sledge from overrunning him. I got completely lost.

Andrew's dogs took him off the course over blue ice and my dogs followed and the sledge was quite uncontrollable on it. I had no idea where Andrew was but at last heard him shout and gingerly went towards the sound. He didn't know where he was; the dogs wanted to go ahead over a precipice, but we decided we had better try the slope to the right of the rock outcrops in front. So he led away and I soon lost sight of him - apparently he overturned and then managed to right the sledge and reach the bottom in safety. My sledge soon overturned and started down the hill head over heels, twice hitting my legs as it fell over. I managed to get a grip on the handle-bars and after a bit with the dogs also braking we got the sledge to stop and I righted it.

Completely lost again, but on getting out my spectacles and taking a quick look, I saw the bay in front and decided how to reach it. On starting off I heard Andrew shout again, he was safely at the bottom and without any more adventures I joined him there - in a cheerful mood now that we were both safe at the bottom. Then I went ahead on the flat, but Andrew with the black pair dashed past; a fine finish after such an exciting afternoon - and Andrew found the pemmican tin.

Then John and David were not to be found. We shouted and fired the revolver, but no answer. At last we saw them coming down the glacier; they had finished their work and since we had been so much longer than we intended they had followed us up, but of course missed us coming home as we went off the usual way. They too had had some fun slipping about.

It was now 9.30pm and thought we had better have a meal before leaving so that needed more unfreezing. In the meantime we made a porridge mixture to put on the Nansen runners as an experiment; the idea is to put water on the next day so as to give an ice surface to the runners, the porridge mixture forming an uncracking base.

I tried a new arrangement of headgear on the way home so that I could wear spectacles too and as far as the test went it was entirely successful. This, rather than any other thing, made the journey home a great pleasure for after the day on the ice cap (I had not worn spectacles on the way over the bay) I had feared that I would be incapable ever of doing sledging if I did get another chance. We started off with a brilliant moon, Andrew and I with the Blacks on the first sledge, John and David on the other. Andrew showed me what to do and let me try to drive them a bit, but it was not very successful for I could never crack the whip when I wanted to. Then David came up to drive and Andrew went behind.

It was marvellous going though in spite of the bright moon there was little scenery. This time I could really see what was happening and distinguish one dog from another. It was a grand sight when the team of the back sledge got level with us and we could look along their line all pulling hard with their heads down and tongues hanging out - they certainly enjoy the sledging. Hansigne was pulling wonderfully. David let me have another try at driving, and then John came up. After a bit Dupelik dragged behind and had to be loosed, and he followed behind. When we stopped once he was not in sight so Andrew went back and found him exhausted and he had to be carried on the sledge and lashed on; his sweet little wife Hansigne used to come back and talk to him every time we stopped afterwards.

The moon began to get watery, and then we suddenly found we were at the ice edge. It was rather fascinating - a big sweep of ice in both directions with black water and mist ahead and the curious sound of seals diving every now and then. I was with Andrew on the back sledge now, and the other two led a very tortuous track past Zeipel island until suddenly Base Mountain loomed up just below the moon. In a few minutes we were on land.

Then began the hell at the end, at least so it was to the others though actually I rather enjoyed this last bit more than any other. In the dim diffused light it was impossible to see the contours of the snow and we were constantly slipping and putting our feet where the ground wasn't. Then we repeatedly got into places from which we couldn't see the way out. After a bit we dumped half the load and distributed the rest, and then the Blacks magnificently got their sledge up a steep slope with rocks on it and the other team followed suit. And so it went on; held up again, going ahead to see what it was like, arguments and opinions about the best way. The Dupelik team would go ahead and sort of explore a route while the Blacks were held up. Then the Blacks would be let off and they would dash off with great sparks from the steel runners on the rocks until the sledge turned over. Somehow we passed without noticing it the troublesome slope of yesterday, and I got a fine ride in for when we passed the last bad bit the Blacks dashed off and I sat on the sledge knocking over an erosion stake, and stopped in front of the house thanks to the sledge getting jammed between two rocks. Then the others came up and while they put the dogs away, I went in to light up and get refreshments. Brownie was asleep, but as soon as I got the Tilley alight his alarm went off; time to get up for the met. readings. However I could do this and he could lie in. I was marvellously tired - we all were - for the first time for months, so after tinned damsons, and coffee and rum - bed.

Though the temperature was about -10℉ Brownie managed to start the Petter so I was up again at 10.30 to work the ionosphere receiver. To bed again straight afterwards - Brownie again undertaking the met. - until he woke me at 3pm. The others decided not to get up for an hour and so I got breakfast ready for the others thus managing to get two for myself. A stiff and weary party we were at breakfast. John decided to sleep on - Old John is cracking up; he used always to be first up and last to bed, but now is showing less and less activity when here except, to his credit, when it is necessary. To bed after filling the Petter at midnight.

Saturday January 27th.

The dog food question being so serious it has been decided that Andrew, John and Brownie should go by boat to the Advance Base as soon as the wind drops. The whole boat has been almost buried in a snow drift and it took a long time digging it out to-day.

Monday January 27th

Some mild skiing has started in the neighbourhood. Brownie and Andrew are already experts, but David and John are only learning. I'm not going to risk my knee yet. Invented a cocktail to-day - califorange and rum.

Tuesday January 28th

Wind still high and ice in our harbour so the boat journey to the Advanced Base is out of the question. Since the England transmission period is so close now, I am to go on the journey instead of Brownie.

Breakfast lasted a long time to-day owing to a long discussion about George V. Andrew (who is very sentimentally patriotic) maintained that he was a great man, and that his death is the most important since the war. David and John (rational) and I opposed this strongly, and though neither side convinced the other, it was perhaps the best argument we have had up to now.

I've been being taught to use the dog whip by Andrew (or David) for some days now, and at last have progressed sufficiently to go on to Exercise 2. In the evening David and I put traces on the harnesses to distinguish the different sizes.

The dogs continue to be the chief source of amusement. Old Uncle Teriangniak has moved from his old seat on petrol boxes to a high pile of boxes in the corner at the side of the porch where he sits all day in a dignified manner. He is deeply offended about something. For some time Upik and the Oarks and Amalortok have come into the hall daily to be fattened with bully. Upik is a sweet little lady, a bit shy indoors and nothing will tempt her to venture through the door into the gentlemen's bedroom, though the others romp about everywhere. The Oarks are still electric, but are taming; once you get hold of them they are as quiet as anything, and I held Ionoark for a long time to-day while David made a sketch of her.

Wednesday January 29th

An important day for Andrew and Brownie went to the top of Snotoppen and skied down the glacier and from there saw that the bay ice was firm in the bottom of the bay, and that it reached the shore only 3/8 mile from the base. So it was decided that the Wahlenberg Bay journey should start on Friday.

Thursday January 30th

A day of preparation for Andrew and David's journey; lots of things to get ready and it should have been a most enjoyable day, but somehow it reminded me of the last day of the holidays; the others may have found it dull, but to me the last six weeks have been the most enjoyable ones of the expedition, and the thought of the departure of these two made this last day a bit gloomy.

Sunday January 19th.

This hot weather continues, and apart from one or two grounded bergs, there's not a piece of ice visible in the bay. Of course it's very pleasant to go outside in, etc, but it means that the spring program is held up as there is no way of getting to the advanced Base.

Brownie and Andrew did some skiing on a slope near here, but it was steep and they seem to have descended the slope in a sitting position most of the time and also managed to break one of the Tilleys. It's been a bad day for the lamps, for the other Tilley had its mantle broken twice, and now the Primus lamp has suddenly refused to work any longer.

A new departure in the tailoring line. Using my trousers as a pattern with David's help I put a patch on the seat of his; a different colour and it's terrific to look at, only he doesn't realise it. The greatest success up to now!

Monday 20th to Wednesday 22nd January

The seamstress department has been busy with heavy canvas work in the last few days, and the bedroom had been turned into Tyneside and we are all engaged building an experimental boat. The foundation is a Nansen sledge, and John and David made an ingenious but simple attachment to increase the volume so that the boat has a bigger capacity when its canvas (three sleeping bag covers sewn together) is roped round it. To-day (Wed), we gave it a trial; we floated it in North Bay, and then Andrew, David, John and I sat on it and paddled it round the point thus meeting the tide. It leaked very slightly, but really proved itself a great success and it takes only a few minutes to put together. Andrew and I have been busy making dog harnesses too; the big Singer is a brute, and the time when it works well is but a small fraction of the time spent in trying to get it to work.

At 12.30 on Tuesday after receiving the met. Bear Island said "Please have you heard that your king died last night at 1 o'clock. We are feeling with you in the great grief which has hit your country, old man." Very sad and sudden news, but we couldn't have received it in a nicer manner. If we had heard it for the first time from the chief announcer in the evening in his superior self-important voice it would have been terrible, but those Bear Island fellows are absolute friends over the wireless and though we've never seen one another, the fact of our being in much the same position makes us feel that we have very much in common. Later we spent some time trying to word, to the best of our ability, a telegram of sympathy to the Queen.

Thursday 23 - Friday 24th January

Last two days have been International Days and so nothing out of the usual has happened. This time my night companion was David and never before has time passed so quickly and pleasantly - in conversation most of the time for though he started reading and I writing met. records we always soon broke off to talk. During the intervals we tried "half-pound cake. I made an experimental model which hardly rose and was very soggy; it consisted of ½lb flour, ½lb raisins, ½lb currants, ½lb peel, ½lb sugar, baking powder and ½lb beer. Tasted terrific, but we suffered subsequently.

To-day my leg is admitted by Andrew to be quite all right, and I bicycled to the ice-cap in the evening.

The others are justifiably getting fed up with this hot weather. The bay is now as it was in September. There's only 5 more days of dog food and it's impossible for the bay to freeze in much less than a fortnight even if the warm spell suddenly stops. I have now left off pants again, and it's not cold going out only in shirt and flannel trousers with many holes in them. January in 80⁰N.

John Wright

John is pricelessly funny, and says he has come here to get cold and live in temperatures of -20℉; none of us quite knows whether to believe him or not, but he is probably sincere. John is in his element in the Arctic; I've hardly met him in England and can't imagine him there: a born explorer, I should say, and certainly an ideal man for an expedition like this; he is probably the most capable of us all scientifically - a keen critic of bad workmanship on the part of manufacturers, and an excellent companion in the house. On his previous visits to the base he has been inclined to be lazy and do practically nothing but read, but now having work of his own he has completely woken up and is a great man of action. He sees what needs to be done and does it without fuss or bother. Capable he is, but not one of these annoyingly efficient people; delightfully untidy and vague about things that concern him alone and he can never remember where he put things, but he never annoys you by losing your things. A great reader when in the mood, he is in a typical position now - one third of the way through a big book, in an armchair in front of the fire, with his tongue hanging out. He is our expert in polar history.