amp, cold feeling in the air which
chills one to the bone in no time.... Great God! this is an awful
place...."[309]

This is not a cry of despair. It is an ejaculation provoked by the
ghastly facts. Even now in January the temperature near the South Pole is
about 24 deg. lower than it is during the corresponding month of the year
(July) near the North Pole,[310] and if it is like this in mid-summer,
what is it like in mid-winter? At the same time it was, with the
exception of the sandy surfaces, what they had looked for, and every
detail of organization was working out as well as if not better than had
been expected.

Bowers was so busy with the meteorological log and sights which were
taken in terribly difficult circumstances that he kept no diary until
they started back. Then he wrote on seven consecutive days, as follows:

"_January 19._ A splendid clear morning with a fine S.W. wind blowing.
During breakfast time I sewed a flap attachment on to the hood of my
green hat so as to prevent the wind from blowing down my neck on the
march. We got up the mast and sail on the sledge and headed north,
picking up Amundsen's cairn and our outgoing tracks shortly afterwards.
Along these we travelled till we struck the other cairn and finally the
black flag where we had made our 58th outward camp. We then with much
relief left all traces of the Norwegians behind us, and headed on our own
track till lunch camp, when we had covered eight miles.

"In the afternoon we passed No. 2 cairn of the British route, and fairly
slithered along before a fresh breeze. It was heavy travelling for me,
not being on ski, but one does not mind being tired if a good march is
made. We did sixteen [miles] altogether for the day, and so should pick
up our Last Depot to-morrow afternoon. The weather became fairly thick
soon after noon, and at the end of the afternoon there was considerable
drift, with a mist caused by ice-crystals, and parhelion."

"_January 20._ Good sailing breeze again this morning. It is a great
pleasure to have one's back to the wind instead of having to face it. It
came on thicker later, but we sighted the Last Depot soon after 1 P.M.
and reached it at 1.45 P.M. The red flag on the bamboo pole was blowing
out merrily to welcome us back from the Pole, with its supply of
necessaries of life below. We are absolutely dependent upon our depots to
get off the plateau alive, and so welcome the lonely little cairns
gladly. At this o