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Wed 26th Dec. Camp VII. Survey station LL2.
At 6 a.m. the whiteout seemed to be thinning, so we breakfasted. Indeed, 8 a.m. a pale disc of sun showed fleetingly through the cloud, although the stiff breeze with drifting snow were uninviting.
However, 120 miles 200 km upwind, Harry Gair's party sat in a blizzard, awaiting re-supply of their almost exhausted food stocks, as we learned by radio. Even John Millen’s party some 25 miles 40 km away reported weather substantially worse than our own.
Indeed, by the time we were ready to leave for LL2, the weather reported upwind was making its way to us, and cloud obliterated many of the landmarks. Gerald decided that the chance of a clear view from the summit was too slight to justify the ordeal of climbing in those conditions, so we returned to the sack. Frequent lookouts saw no improvement by 11 a.m., so we fell asleep.
However, 12:30 p.m. brought a great improvement, so we hurriedly dressed and set off for LL2 by 12:50. A half-hour walk over the névé preceded an exhilarating climb up the west ridge of quartzite. Large, yellow blocks of rock gave firm holds for hands and feet, such a pleasure after the loose holds common for NZ rock. Evan and John had enjoyed that ascent two days before, though without the extra thrill of rock climbing with 35-pound 16-kg packs of cumbersome and expensive surveying gear.
By 3:30 p.m. we were on top, and began the usual routine of a photo pan panorama with the theodolite-mounted camera, and hours of measuring horizontal and vertical angles. With growing experience and the pressure of the weather, this was the most efficient survey station to date, yet it was 8 p.m. before the surveying was complete.
Oddly enough, the instrument man scarcely notices the weather – provided the targets are visible – except that the finger tips get numb through the thin wool gloves necessary to operate the theodolite. Mild frostbite of the fingers is a chronic issue for Antarctic surveyors. However, the frigid conditions must have been unpleasant for Gerald, patiently identifying targets and preparing sketches to supplement the photogrammetry.
For the descent we traversed the mountain on the eastern ridge, whence Gerald cut steps down the snowfield on the north side. Most mountains in the Quartzite Ranges have a snowy north face, and a south face of sheer bare rock inclined between 60° and overhanging. A walk around the base to the west ridge returned us to the campsite shortly after 10 p.m.
During the descent, cumulus cloud intensified from the northwest, blocking out most surrounding peaks, including LL2, which we had just occupied. The loss of visibility dampened an earlier suggestion that we might break camp and sledge onwards that night, some eight miles 13 km to the next campsite near EE2. So we dined as usual on pemmican stew, with John Moir's milk pudding for a treat, and were abed by 12:15.
Thu 27th Dec. Camp VII – Camp VIII. Survey station EE2.
At 6 a.m. we began to listen to the radio for a schedule with Harry Gair. At 8 a.m., news came that a plane would be leaving McMurdo at 10:30 a.m. to re-supply the Gair party. Scott Base instructed John and Gerald not to move until further instructions pending the air re-supply. So it was 11 a.m. before we had packed the sledges to resume the march southeast.
The slope undulated, yet always upwards, but at a welcome milder grade than for the previous two days. The gentler grade, and a firm snow surface produced by the fierce winds of the previous two days, and the energy from Christmas feasting, almost made it feel as if an unseen hand were pushing our sledge.
With improved hauling Gerald’s stride lengthened, which Frank tried to emulate, as efficient hauling depends on marching in unison. But Frank still felt like a small dog trotting along, so Gerald suggested walking with ski sticks, to help keep rhythm.
We stopped only twenty minutes for lunch so as not to cool off, then resumed at a strong pace. At 3:10 p.m. we camped, about ½ mile ¾ km from landmark EE2, the southeast nunatak of the West Quartzite Range. We pitched the tent and prepared a brew for Evan and John, who arrived about 4 p.m. at a less frenzied pace.
By 4:25 p.m. we all left together for EE2. Upon arrival, surveying involved the usual photo pan, observation of angles, and sketching, while the geologists found yet more stones to gather. A small cloud enveloped Pyramid Peak (G2). Waiting for the cloud to clear, everyone collected rocks for a larger- than-usual summit cairn. However, our 5½-foot 1.7-m high cairn was a runt compared with the ten-foot 3-m tall giants constructed by the 1957-58 Tucker Glacier survey party, which had more people for such work.
Leaving the summit at 8 p.m., we soon reached the campsite, where John welcomed us with a brew. By 10 p.m., after another bloating pemmican stew, we crawled into our cosy sleeping bags.
Fri 28th Dec. Camp VIII – Camp IX.
Gerald perceptively recognised a 7 a.m. whiteout as ground fog rather than cloud, predicting that it would soon disperse. Indeed, the sky was clearing by 9 a.m., by which time we had struck camp and were marching southwest.
Later, under a cloudless sky, energetic hauling uphill made the calm day seem balmy. But a sudden zephyr sliced through our wool clothing – as a reminder that it was still chilly at perhaps -20°C – so without delay we stopped and donned anoraks.
Unfortunately, some hard-won altitude was squandered when the route descended slightly. The dip was a sign that we had not left the Rennick Glacier basin, which drains to the Oates Coast of the Antarctic Ocean, where the south magnetic pole resides. At some unknown point, our path would cross a divide into the Tucker Glacier drainage basin to the Ross Sea, where the aircraft would pick us up.
Forty minutes of resolute uphill plodding regained most of the lost altitude by noon, near nunatak WW2. We lunched, then for a blithe hour-and-a half we scrambled over the nunatak, building a cairn on top, as a survey marker. By 2 p.m. we were back in the harness, headed for the pass between point VV2 and a small nunatak to its east. A Plateau Loop map, presented earlier, shows the locations of survey landmarks and campsites.
Distances are deceptive on featureless ice slopes. Even a slight upgrade – estimated at 2% – steadily saps one’s energy. Not until 4 p.m. did we reach the base of the slope to the pass east of VV2, to discover that it had a grade of perhaps 10%. Gerald wisely decided that the pass was not feasible for man-hauling. The aerial photographs gave scant indication of the grade of snowfields, so steeper patches sometimes came as a surprise, notwithstanding the value of the photos otherwise.
Turning south, a gut-wrenching slog up some 200 feet 60 m led to a plateau between landmarks VV2 and Pyramid (G2). A pleasant surprise awaited there, for points VV2 and G2 were revealed to be closer to one another than expected. That might permit surveying from both stations on a single day. Considering the day saved by hauling and surveying yesterday, time may now permit a second survey baseline, despite earlier delays.
A short stretch of welcome downhill sledging took us to the campsite at 5:30 p.m., bringing relief to weary bodies. By 6:30 p.m. we had consumed three pints of brews and were attacking a huge pemmican stew, before bed at 8:30 p.m.
Sat 29th Dec. Camp IX: Survey baseline and astronomy.
Frank confesses to great shame at having committed the most heinous offence in the Antarctic, of which more anon.
We awoke at 6 a.m. for solar sightings for longitude and azimuth from 6:45 to 7:15, the most comfortable astronomical set-up so far, showing the value of practice. Strato-cumulus cloud from the northeast threatened to block out landmarks, so Gerald and Frank hurried to chain the baseline. We had to construct the baseline cairns before surveying from the peaks, in order to triangulate to the cairns from the peaks.
A ¾-1 mile 1-1½ km long baseline was intended. However, after measuring for that distance, the tents that would mark the home end of the baseline were out of sight, in an unseen gentle dip on the plateau. So we continued measuring outwards. Even after measuring 114 chains 2¼ km, the tents had not come into view.
Gerald suggested that we build a cairn of snow blocks there, and then shift the home cairn from the tent site to somewhere nearby the tents in view of this new cairn. Forty-five minutes later Cairn G stood 8 feet 2.4 m high. Gerald and Frank hurried back to reach the tents, barely in time to observe the sun’s transit at 12:35 for latitude.
During the morning, cloud thickened from the northeast with a chilly five-knot 9-km/hour breeze. By the time of the solar transit, the cloud and solar filter darkened the view too much to see the theodolite crosshairs, when observing the sun. So Frank decided hastily and imprudently to remove the filter in order to see the crosshairs.
About ten chains 200 m from the tent, the morning’s baseline cairn became visible, so we built a second baseline cairn there (Cairn H) . However, cloud now obscured many key landmarks, which precluded surveying. Besides, the enthusiastic geologists Evan and John had already built a fine cairn on VV2 in the course of their morning’s rambling, which Gerald and Frank were loathe to dismantle, as would be needed to survey from there.
Light snow was falling now – large, delicate flakes, distinctly hexagonal in shape, wafting down in leisurely spirals as if graceful, live creatures – to blanket the world in purest white. By comparison, the soggy NZ snow would seem like a hail.
About 4 p.m. – with visibility lost for surveying – Gerald and Frank retired to the tent for tea and calculations. Gerald prepared a masterpiece of pemmican and porridge with morsels of bacon, which is the subject of the aforementioned great wrong, because the stuff refused to remain even in Frank’s cast-iron belly. But by 9 p.m. the tragedy was over and we were in dreamland.
Sun 30th Dec. Camp IX: Gentle blizzard.
Waking to a ‘gentle blizzard’ brought the welcome prospect of a few more hours in bed. This we put to use scribbling until about 4 p.m. with breaks for lunch, chocolate, naps and nature calls. Frank began a draft of the survey report.
Last night’s stew still tasted good despite the previous evening’s shame, and this time it stayed down. In a 7 p.m. radio schedule, Gerald shared our situation with John Millen, who was experiencing a similar ten-knot 18-km/hour northeast wind with snow.
Mon 31st Dec 1962. Camp IX. Survey station VV2.
At 6 a.m. a strong wind sent us back to bed until breakfast at 9 a.m. All day, cloud to the south and a ten-knot 18-km/hr wind precluded surveying, so we continued survey computations and reports and idleness.
About 4 p.m. the wind subsided. So Gerald and Frank observed the sun for longitude, and during that beautiful evening at last occupied station VV2. A low southerly sun cast dramatic patterns on the sastrugi ripples.
Upon arrival at camp at midnight, we headed for Evan and John’s tent to quaff copious mugs of coffee. Evan dispensed cigars, which were dispatched with great relish. The cigars had become broken, so we had to smoke them in two halves. After eating and drinking in the New Year, we were in bed by 1:45 a.m.
Tue 1st Jan 1963. Camp IX. Survey station G2.
The detested alarm clock jangled at 7 a.m., arousing us bleary-eyed after the partying. But the weather was perfect, so by 9 a.m. we were on our way to Pyramid (G2), a remarkable tetrahedral peak, with faces in the cardinal directions. The most direct southwest ridge took us to the summit by noon, an enjoyable climb on steeply dipping greywacke, which formed a convenient series of natural steps.
Gerald sketched and collected geological and soils samples while Frank surveyed. Evan and John arrived about 5:30 p.m., upon which Gerald and John returned by the northwest ridge, to keep a 7 p.m. radio schedule. Evan continued with geology until Frank had finished survey observations at 6:30, with a record number of sightings from this unparalleled vantage.
Evan and Frank returned by the southwest ridge, which Evan had not traversed. From the base of Pyramid we walked 1½ miles 2½ km to Cairn G of Baseline 2. From 8:15 to 9 p.m., Frank observed angles from there to other landmarks, while Evan waited patiently. Another pleasant 1½-mile 2½-km walk returned us to camp at 9:40 p.m.
Gerald had prepared a marvelous meal of freeze-dried meatballs, which we consumed with pleasure, before sleep claimed us. However, at 2 a.m., Frank wasted some of Gerald’s fine cuisine by rising to barf, and it wasn't even pemmican!
Wed 2nd Jan. Camp IX – Depôt.
Gerald observed angles from baseline Cairn H while Frank struck the tent and packed, as the tent blocked sightings to certain landmarks from the cairn. By 10:45 a.m. we were sledging towards the depôt, at first slightly downgrade.
In the shallow dip that we sledged into, the wind-formed waves of sastrugi crust stood fully two feet 600 mm high. At our approach, the sastrugi wind slab collapsed about us into the soft snow beneath it, with disconcerting “whoomph” sounds.
We continued, rising in a sidle around a small nunatak to the east of Pyramid. By noon all lost altitude was recovered, and we stopped for lunch. There, a couple of contented hours passed pottering aimlessly on the clean rock of the nunatak, while Evan examined a dyke of metamorphosed sedimentary rock.
Leaving at 2:20 p.m., a long fast tramp on a slight upgrade followed, encased hot in anoraks due to the breeze, sledges lightened by the food consumed. An oddly familiar depôt landscape slowly itself wrapped about as we approached the depôt, arriving at 6 p.m.
In spite of the vagaries of the weather, Gerald had timed the plateau loop perfectly, because the polar plateau loop had taken us right to the end of the last of the three ration boxes that we carried. Gerald's continual urging was well-founded.
What a reward awaited! Frozen beef steak – real meat! – two cans of frozen beer each (thawed in hot water), and fruit and other contents of the luxury boxes. We had quite a feast that night. One vivid memory is gazing – buzzed by the beer – over the icy wasteland of the polar plateau stretching southwards under a sun seeping pallid through the overcast.
Thu 3rd Jan. Depôt – Camp X, Pearl Harbour Glacier.
We awoke at 7:30 a.m. to measure a round of angles from Cairn A near the campsite. Next came the chore of sorting and deciding the fate of each item of excess food and gear that John Millen’s team had left at the depôt for Gerald’s team. Both teams would leave the plateau heavily laden.
Weight was especially critical for John’s team, who faced uphill sledging to cross the divide from the Upper Pearl Harbour Glacier into the head of the Tucker Glacier. Gerald’s sledges also looked decidedly higher and felt heavier than before. Reluctantly, we abandoned a worn-out pair of mukluks, a little food, and a few other items not worth their passage.
Sledge traces tightened at 11:50 a.m., and by 1 p.m. we had covered the couple of miles 3 km from the depôt to the crest of Toboggan Gap, which crosses the Millen Range into the Upper Pearl Harbour Glacier. Toboggan Gap marked the start of the second major portion of the journey, the glacier phase.
Gerald and Evan wrapped the sledge runners with rope for brakes in order to descend from Toboggan Gap into the Upper Pearl Harbour Glacier. During the descent, Gerald found that the grade was up to 35° 70%.
Meanwhile, before leaving the polar plateau, John Hayton and Frank walked 35 minutes from Toboggan Gap back to Cairn D, to complete survey observations from there. Upon arrival, the cairn tilted comically, perhaps from the wind or the sun over the preceding three weeks. John carved a face in the snow top of the cairn, and we photographed one another in ridiculous poses with the “Super Tower of Pizza”.
Having toppled the cairn, all that remained was to measure horizontal angles from that point to the other polar plateau snow cairns A, B, and C, for triangulation of the survey baseline extension. By the time John and Frank returned to Toboggan Gap at 4:20, Gerald and Evan had already moved the sledges down some two miles 3 km into the Upper Pearl Harbour Glacier.
After reuniting, we all continued hauling through soft snow, greatly aided by the downgrade, despite irregular undulations. In some places the glacier fell steeply enough for the sledges to run without pulling, obliging us to stagger clumsily through the soft snow as fast as we could, just to keep ahead of the sledges. Even the flatter downgrades of 2% were a respite from hauling the opposite upgrade on the plateau.
We pitched camp at 7:20 p.m. While filling the kerosene bottle, Frank spilled fuel on his hand. Shortly after, his finger looked white and waxy, and lacked feeling. Gerald pinched it, saying that it felt like a piece of wood, a condition of second-degree frostbite. Later in the evening some colour and feeling returned to the finger. Similar but less severe frostbite to the fingers resulted from surveying wearing only light gloves.
Fri 4th Jan. Camp X. Survey station YY2.
We awoke at 7 a.m. to a cloudless sky but a strong katabatic wind – as cold, dense air from the polar plateau poured down the glacier – which delayed our departure for surveying. At 10 a.m., Gerald led on skis, with Frank on foot, towards the ridge to the south of the Upper Pearl Harbour Glacier.
As we climbed, a distant view of the Tucker Glacier emerged, with a backdrop of its great peaks and icefalls. The ascent was straightforward, though we roped up and strapped on crampons to cross a schrund, before the final rocky scramble to survey station YY2 by noon, at perhaps 8200 feet 2500 m.
After lunch came the photo panorama, then the usual routine of target identification and sketching by Gerald, and survey observation by Frank. The day was mild and sunny, so it was a welcome change to climb and work in shirtsleeves.
Evan and John arrived about 5:30 p.m., having collected yet more rocks during their ascent. Then Evan and Gerald departed to meet the 7 p.m. radio schedule. After completing survey observations, John and Frank built a snow cairn before descending. That mild evening, sitting around outside for the first time, we chatted mostly about geology, until bedtime at 10:30 p.m.
Sat 5th Jan. Camp X – Camp XI.
Despite waking at 7 a.m., we didn’t leave until 11:10 a.m. Frank hadn’t slept a wink on account of sunburn. Stumbling about sleepily, he was little help striking camp. That must have been frustrating for Gerald, though he didn’t say a word.
Down into the Pearl Harbour Glacier we sledged, descending in a series of steps as before, sometimes so steep that the sledge ran by itself. However, riding the sledge seldom was advantageous, because the glacier fell in a different direction from our sidling route.
Presently, the Pearl Harbour Glacier turned east – called the glacial portal – from where John Millen's team had climbed west over a saddle to reach the Tucker Glacier.
Shortly after, a sudden up-glacier breeze obliged us to pull on anoraks, hats and gloves, especially Evan who had been hauling in a tee shirt.
Steadily throughout the afternoon, a stately succession of warm-front clouds sailed across the sky from the west. The previous day’s high cirrus gave way to the classic warm front sequence of descending cloud layers, until by 5 p.m., when we camped, the morrow looked unpromising. Antarctica’s continental weather patterns seemed easy to read, after NZ’s erratic climate. However, sky conditions remained steady through the evening.
Sun 6th Jan. Camp XI. Survey station AC (Mt. Holdsworth).
The sky had tricked us, for bright sun greeted us at 7 a.m., except for a little alto-cumulus to the west. Today’s objective was Mt. Holdsworth (AC), an imposing peak to the north, interesting geologically as the first outcrop of Tucker granodiorite that we would encounter.
Gerald discovered that the two-way radio was not working, so he decided to try to fix it while Evan, John and Frank continued to the summit. By 11 a.m. Evan and Frank were skiing uphill into the valley separating peaks AC and AB.
Looking back half an hour later showed no sign of John Hayton, who apparently had not yet left camp. That was worrisome, because John was to bring the theodolite legs, which would be needed to survey from the summit.
Another concern was keeping the party together in order to cross schrunds safely. So we waited while Evan studied some rock at an outcrop. Soon, Gerald and John could be seen leaving camp. Two hours more skiing took Evan and Frank to the base of a slope too steep to ski, at which point we cached the skis and began a trudge through soft snow to a col.
The upper snow slope was broken with schrunds near an icefall, so Evan and Frank roped up for more trudging through a snow basin, then crossed a bergschrund to reach the granodiorite summit rocks 2½ hours after leaving the skis. Gerald and John arrived only a few minutes later, having taken the steeper directissimo rock route.
The weather was deteriorating, threatening loss of the magnificent vistas north across the Tucker Glacier to the mighty peaks beyond, and south across the Pearl Harbour to the Millen Range. It was a race to take the photo panorama and “shoot” peaks before they clouded over. So lunch awaited completion of the photo pan at 4 p.m.
When Frank completed measuring of angles with the theodolite, to his dismay the horizontal angles did not check back to their starting values. Perhaps he had bumped a theodolite leg, or the instrument had settled. Even a slight movement upsets the instrument.
Under normal circumstances, if that happens, the surveyor simply repeats the readings. But here, with rapidly diminishing visibility, some readings to survey landmarks might be lost. Wynn Croll of the 1957-58 NZ Tucker Glacier expedition had told of the loss of theodolite calibration on occasion, ascribed to differential melting of theodolite legs into the snow, or differential expansion of the sunny side of the instrument.
Gerald and John left at 5:30 p.m. for a radio schedule at 7 p.m., which must have been quite a race for them. Eventually, by 8 p.m., all target landmarks had clouded over and snowfall began. Evan and Frank hurriedly packed, built a rock cairn, and roped down over the same terrain as for the ascent, following footsteps in the snow.
By 9 p.m. we reached the skis, which were a godsend. Without skis, the soft snow would have been murderously deep to wade through, especially with heavy surveying backpacks. Occasionally, the slope was steep enough for the skis to coast, bringing a luxurious sensation of effortless motion, after so much legwork.
Onwards, Evan and Frank skied through white nothingness, guided only by the morning’s ski tracks. At last, at 10:20 p.m., the tents loomed ahead.
A wonderful dehydrated beef stew awaited, with drink after drink of cocoa and dried apricot juice. Dehydration may have been debilitating than the effort of the day, as the small thermos flask could replenish only a little of the body fluid lost to the dry Antarctic air.
We were scarcely in bed at 12:15 when jovial, irrepressible John Hayton appeared at the tent door, for a social visit on some vague pretext. Perhaps he stayed for an hour.
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