We got to Safety Camp on the evening of March 1 and found two notes from Captain Scott directing us to make for Hut Point via Castle Rock, and notifying us that the sea ice was all on the move.  We had an interesting climb next day, but a very difficult one, for we were on the go from 9 a.m. until after 11 that night.  First we found our way over the Barrier Ice to the foot of the slope leading up to the ice ridge northward of Castle Rock.  Here we tethered James Pigg and spent some hours getting our gear and sledges up the slope.  We had no crampons for this work as they were all on Scott’s own sledge, so that it was necessary at times to pull up the slopes on hands and knees, assisted by our ski sticks, an unusual procedure but the only one possible to employ on the steeper blue ice.  We took the sledges up one by one and then went down with an Alpine rope to help James Pigg.  We found the pony very bored at our long absence; he neighed and whinnied when we came down to him, and, to our great surprise, went up the long, steep slope with far greater ease than we did ourselves.

It was out of the question for us to proceed the four and a half miles along the ridges which led down to Hut Point, for darkness had set in and we had no wish to repeat the performance of an earlier expedition when a man lost his life hereabouts through slipping right over one of these steep slopes into the sea on the western side of the promontory ridge which terminates at Hut Point.

It was snowing when we turned in and still snowing on March 3 when we turned out of our sleeping-bags.  James Pigg, quite snug, clothed in his own, Blossom’s, and Bluecher’s rugs, had a little horseshoe shelter built up round him.  We did not know at this time of the pony disaster, but, thinking Captain Scott might be anxious if he got no word as to our whereabouts or movements, Atkinson and I started to march along the ice ridges of Castle Rock and make our way to Hut Point.  It was blowing hard and very cold, but the joy of walking on firm ice without a sledge to drag was great.  When finally we came to the old “Discovery” hut at lunch time, we found Wilson, Meares, and Gran in very low spirits.  They told us that Bowers and Cherry-Garrard were adrift on an ice floe and the remainder of the party had gone to the rescue along the Barrier edge.  We were much downcast by this news, and after a meal of biscuit and tea, started back for our camp.  The weather was now clearer, and we could see some way out over the Barrier; we could also see the sea looking very blue against the white expanse of ice.