OHYAT: The Winter Journey
Jun. 27th, 2011 05:58 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tealinONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO TODAY
It's 11 am – nearly noon, though of course that makes little difference so far south of the Antarctic circle in the middle of winter, and it's the new moon besides – and three men stand outside the hut at Cape Evans with two sledges loaded with gear, about to set off into the inky blackness on 'the weirdest bird's-nesting expedition that has ever been or ever will be.'
First, though, they are photographed.
... and then they are off.
Why?
When Bill Wilson had been south previously, on the Discovery expedition, they had only seen the Cape Crozier Emperor rookery in the summertime, and discovered the chicks already hatched. Bill believed penguins were the most primitive birds, and subscribed to Haeckel's theory that as the embryo develops it goes through all the stages of evolution, from fish to whatever the destination species is, so he thought that studying the embryo of the most primitive possible bird would provide important clues to avian evolutionary history.
The prospect of studying the Emperors at egg-laying season (which he calculated to be in June sometime, based on the age of the chicks in the summer) was one of the main reasons Bill joined the Terra Nova expedition in the first place. When they arrived at Ross Island in January of 1910 they tried to establish a beachhead at Cape Crozier, but the surf was too high to land, and the lack of sea-ice would have made it very difficult to get supplies from the ship to shore. They sailed around for a couple more days until deciding Cape Evans had all the features they needed, but this meant that instead of just nipping around the corner to visit the Emperors, a lengthy midwinter journey had to be undertaken. This was Bill's pet project, though, so Scott could hardly deny him (though he did try to talk him out of it), but a couple of days before their departure, as Bill describes, 'he ... impressed upon me the necessity of bringing back my two companions unhurt from Cape Crozier for the southern journey.'
A group of friends accompanied them around the Cape and saw them off to trace their way across the familiar frozen bay between Cape Evans and Hut Point. Despite having done this trip several times, though, it was so dark that they didn't even notice they'd passed familiar landmarks until they blotted out the sky behind them. I'll let Cherry take over from here; I'm taking the liberty of editing him down a little, but if you want to read the full account you can do so here.
The limited rations were by way of an experiment for the journey to the Pole the next summer – Bill, in seemingly endless conversations with Scott on nutritional science, had lobbied for a greater ratio of fats to carbohydrates in the rations, so to see which regimen was best, each of the three men on the Winter Journey (as Cherry called it later) had a different nutritional emphasis in their diet. Another experiment was undertaken by Bill: impressed by how much difference the windproof clothing made on the depot journey and the stay at Hut Point, he was wearing two sets of windproofs rather than layering up extra wool.
They camped the first 'night' just short of Hut Point ... the temperature was -26°F. It was the most comfortable night they would have.
It's 11 am – nearly noon, though of course that makes little difference so far south of the Antarctic circle in the middle of winter, and it's the new moon besides – and three men stand outside the hut at Cape Evans with two sledges loaded with gear, about to set off into the inky blackness on 'the weirdest bird's-nesting expedition that has ever been or ever will be.'
First, though, they are photographed.
... and then they are off.
Why?
When Bill Wilson had been south previously, on the Discovery expedition, they had only seen the Cape Crozier Emperor rookery in the summertime, and discovered the chicks already hatched. Bill believed penguins were the most primitive birds, and subscribed to Haeckel's theory that as the embryo develops it goes through all the stages of evolution, from fish to whatever the destination species is, so he thought that studying the embryo of the most primitive possible bird would provide important clues to avian evolutionary history.
The prospect of studying the Emperors at egg-laying season (which he calculated to be in June sometime, based on the age of the chicks in the summer) was one of the main reasons Bill joined the Terra Nova expedition in the first place. When they arrived at Ross Island in January of 1910 they tried to establish a beachhead at Cape Crozier, but the surf was too high to land, and the lack of sea-ice would have made it very difficult to get supplies from the ship to shore. They sailed around for a couple more days until deciding Cape Evans had all the features they needed, but this meant that instead of just nipping around the corner to visit the Emperors, a lengthy midwinter journey had to be undertaken. This was Bill's pet project, though, so Scott could hardly deny him (though he did try to talk him out of it), but a couple of days before their departure, as Bill describes, 'he ... impressed upon me the necessity of bringing back my two companions unhurt from Cape Crozier for the southern journey.'
A group of friends accompanied them around the Cape and saw them off to trace their way across the familiar frozen bay between Cape Evans and Hut Point. Despite having done this trip several times, though, it was so dark that they didn't even notice they'd passed familiar landmarks until they blotted out the sky behind them. I'll let Cherry take over from here; I'm taking the liberty of editing him down a little, but if you want to read the full account you can do so here.
[T]hree men, one of whom at any rate is feeling a little frightened, stand panting and sweating out in McMurdo Sound. They have two sledges, one tied behind the other, and these sledges are piled high with sleeping-bags and other camping equipment, six weeks' provisions, and a venesta* case full of scientific gear for pickling and preserving. In addition there is a pickaxe, ice-axes, an Alpine rope, a large piece of green Willesden canvas and a bit of board. Scott's amazed remark when he saw our sledges two hours ago, 'Bill, why are you taking all this oil?' pointing to the six cans lashed to the tray on the second sledge, had a bite in it. Our weights for such travelling are enormous – 253 lbs a man.
*a type of plywood
It is midday but it is pitchy dark, and it is not warm.
But the sweat was freezing in our clothing and we moved on. ... That first camp only lives in my memory because it began our education of camp work in the dark. ... There was just enough wind to make us want to hurry: down harness, each man to a strap on the sledge – quick with the floor cloth – the bags to hold it down – now a good spread with the bamboos and the tent inner lining – hold them, Cherry, and over with the outer covering – snow onto the skirting and inside with the cook with his candle and a box of matches . . .
That is how we tied it: that is the way we were accustomed to do it ... But now it didn't work. 'We shall have to go a bit slower,' said Bill, and 'we shall get more used to working in the dark.' At this time, I remember, I was still trying to wear spectacles.
... We had already realised that cooking under these conditions would be a bad job, and that the usual arrangement by which one man was cook for the week would be intolerable. We settled to be cook alternately day by day. For food we brought only pemmican and biscuit and butter; for drink we had tea, and we drank hot water to turn in on.
The limited rations were by way of an experiment for the journey to the Pole the next summer – Bill, in seemingly endless conversations with Scott on nutritional science, had lobbied for a greater ratio of fats to carbohydrates in the rations, so to see which regimen was best, each of the three men on the Winter Journey (as Cherry called it later) had a different nutritional emphasis in their diet. Another experiment was undertaken by Bill: impressed by how much difference the windproof clothing made on the depot journey and the stay at Hut Point, he was wearing two sets of windproofs rather than layering up extra wool.
They camped the first 'night' just short of Hut Point ... the temperature was -26°F. It was the most comfortable night they would have.
