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.