And so when we tried to start on June 30 we found we could not move both sledges together.  There was nothing for it but to take one on at a time and come back for the other.  This has often been done in daylight when the only risks run are those of blizzards which may spring up suddenly and obliterate tracks.  Now in darkness it was more complicated.  From 11 A.M. to 3 P.M. there was enough light to see the big holes made by our feet, and we took on one sledge, trudged back in our tracks, and brought on the second.  Bowers used to toggle and untoggle our harnesses when we changed sledges.  Of course in this relay work we covered three miles in distance for every one mile forward, and even the single sledges were very hard pulling.  When we lunched the temperature was -61 deg..  After lunch the little light had gone, and we carried a naked lighted candle back with us when we went to find our second sledge.  It was the weirdest kind of procession, three frozen men and a little pool of light.  Generally we steered by Jupiter, and I never see him now without recalling his friendship in those days.

We were very silent, it was not very easy to talk:  but sledging is always a silent business.  I remember a long discussion which began just now about cold snaps—­was this the normal condition of the Barrier, or was it a cold snap?—­what constituted a cold snap?  The discussion lasted about a week.  Do things slowly, always slowly, that was the burden of Wilson’s leadership:  and every now and then the question, Shall we go on? and the answer Yes.  “I think we are all right as long as our appetites are good,” said Bill.  Always patient, self-possessed, unruffled, he was the only man on earth, as I believe, who could have led this journey.

That day we made 31/4 miles, and travelled 10 miles to do it.  The temperature was -66 deg. when we camped, and we were already pretty badly iced up.  That was the last night I lay (I had written slept) in my big reindeer bag without the lining of eider-down which we each carried.  For me it was a very bad night:  a succession of shivering fits which I was quite unable to stop, and which took possession of my body for many minutes at a time until I thought my back would break, such was the strain placed upon it.  They talk of chattering teeth:  but when your body chatters you may call yourself cold.  I can only compare the strain to that which I have been unfortunate enough to see in a case of lock-jaw.  One of my big toes was frost-bitten, but I do not know for how long.  Wilson was fairly comfortable in his smaller bag, and Bowers was snoring loudly.  The minimum temperature that night as taken under the sledge was -69 deg.; and as taken on the sledge was -75 deg..  That is a hundred and seven degrees of frost.