OHYAT: Flag Day

The hauling had, for the most part, been hard, since the Polar Party and Second Returning Party split ways. In large part this was due to the lack of wind: the still air allowed ice crystals to grow on the surface of the snow, which greatly increased the friction. Nevertheless the Polar Party appear to have been fairly cheerful, despite Scott's constant agonizing over distances travelled. 'What lots of things we think of on these monotonous marches!' he wrote, the day after the two groups parted. 'What castles one builds now hopefully that the Pole is ours.' They had reason to think they had a chance of reaching it first: the Beardmore Glacier was the only known route from the Barrier, through the Transantarctic Mountains, to the polar plateau. There had been no sign of the Norwegians on the glacier or anywhere else. They couldn't have known that Amundsen's party had discovered a new glacier, and that it had been navigable by their dogs, until ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO TODAY:

The worst has happened, or nearly the worst. We marched well in the morning and covered 7 1/2 miles. Noon sight showed us in Lat. 89º 42′ S., and we started off in high spirits in the afternoon, feeling that to-morrow would see us at our destination. About the second hour of the March Bowers’ sharp eyes detected what he thought was a cairn; he was uneasy about it, but argued that it must be a sastrugus. Half an hour later he detected a black speck ahead. Soon we knew that this could not be a natural snow feature. We marched on, found that it was a black flag tied to a sledge bearer; near by the remains of a camp; sledge tracks and ski tracks going and coming and the clear trace of dogs’ paws – many dogs. This told us the whole story. The Norwegians have forestalled us and are first at the Pole. It is a terrible disappointment, and I am very sorry for my loyal companions. Many thoughts come and much discussion have we had. To-morrow we must march on to the Pole and then hasten home with all the speed we can compass. All the day dreams must go; it will be a wearisome return.

– R.F. Scott