1911] HARD PULLING 161 
We had so far had neither time nor opportunity to examine 
the geology of the coast we were skirting. It was apparent 
also that as we proceeded northwards the glaciers had retreated 
less, and except on the capes no rock was exposed. From our 
low position we could only see the summits of the ‘ facetted’ 
walls marking the three great valley glaciers which opened into 
the Piedmont Glacier. Far away to the east, Erebus was throw- 
ing a huge steam banner to the south. Later in the evening, 
after some premonitory pufis, the banner shifted to the 
north. We now had an imposing view of the great black ‘ fang’ 
of the old crater wall, and just behind this the lower dark 
dome of Terror contrasted strongly with its snow-covered rival 
Erebus. 
It was very warm in the tent (though the air temperature 
outside was only + 18°) and owing to the sun effect on the 
dark tent water lay in little pools on the cloth valance. Luckily 
this altered before we started, or the surface would have rivalled 
seccotine! I finished my day’s notes with the remark: ‘I don’t 
take very full geological notes for obvious reasons—we only see 
a piece of rock about every three days!’ 
I will copy some notes I made on our sledge routine at this 
time. ‘Our first movement, when we try to take 1200 lbs. at 
one fell swoop, is to “break out” the sledges, so as to free 
the runners from ice. Then I give a Hipp! cautioning Deben- 
ham not to strain hard, and the runners come away grudgingly 
and you feel as if they were pulling you asunder. Once under 
way they improve and we can do as much as three-quarters of 
a mile in an hour, while the sweat rolls off us, groans rend the 
air, and Forde curses audibly! Gran slips about on the ice and 
nearly kicks out Forde’s patella. I get up steam too much on 
easy ground till I hear Forde out of time. We come to an ice 
ridge and there’s bound to be soft snow just beyond. You step 
into this just as the sledges start up the little slope, slip down 
nearly to the knee, flounder about, and the whole caravan stops! 
So twisted I my right leg and it twinges all the time, while Gran 
diagnoses burst veins with great gusto. . . ... How Debenham 
got through with his disabled knee I don’t know. We used to 
yell out ‘ Crack’ as Gran and I stepped into them first, and so 
he managed to keep out of some, but he suffered some awful 
wrenches with gallant fortitude. 
VOLES ti—11 
