and disturbances, with three nunataks or mountains sticking through the ice-sheet like islands—­the disturbance is mostly to the left (Eastwards) of these, and the road here looks cruelly steep even where it is not broken up.  Down the Glacier the great white way is broken here and there where tributary glaciers join it, and above the Cloudmaker the glacier is cut up badly in several places, how badly we were not to know until the middle of January, 1912—­but of that more anon.  To the left (S.E.) a great broad river of ice, the Mill Glacier, and so on.

The land is extraordinary—­gigantic snow drifts like huge waves breaking against a stone pier beset the lower cliff faces and steeper slopes, then dark red-brown rock carved by glaciers long since vanished, and above this rocky bands of limestone, sandstone; and dolerite.  Some rocky talus showing through the big snow drifts, and in some cases talus alone.

From my letter to be taken by the next homeward party in case I missed the ship: 

   “The Wild range is extraordinary in its curious stratification, and
   one feels when gazing at it some-thing of a wish to scramble along the
   crests, if only to feel land underfoot instead of ice, ice, ice.

“The prevailing colours here are blacks, grays, reds, like the cliffs at Teignmouth and Exmouth, and another more chocolate red.  Then the whites in all kind of shade—­fancy different shades of white, but there are here any amount of them, and a certain sparkle of blue ice down the Glacier where the sun is shining on it that reminds one of a tropical sea.  Except when marching we don’t spend much time out of our tents, but I take a breather now and again when surveying, and then I sit on a sledge-box and wonder what is in store for us and where all this will lead us.  Amundsen has certainty not come this way, although dogs could work here easily enough.”

On December 20 Scott came into our tent after supper and told us that the first return party would be Atkinson (in charge), Wright, Cherry-Garrard, and Keohane, and that they would turn back after the next day’s march.  We were all very sad, but each one thus detailed loyally abided by the decision of our chief.  I worked till nearly midnight getting out copy of route and bearings for Wright to navigate back on.

Here is a specimen page of my diary: 

   “December 21.

“Out at 5.45 a.m. and away at 8.  Had a very heavy pull up steep slope close to S.E. point of Buckley Island.  Passed over many crevasses and dropped into some.  Once I fell right down in a bottomless chasm to the length of my harness.  I was pulled out by the others, Bowers and Cherry helping with their Alpine rope.  Not hurt but amused.  All of us dropped often to our waists and Atkinson completely disappeared once, but we got him out.  We got into a very bad place at noon, and a fog coming on had to stop and lunch as one could not see far.  This has