inually.
Especially, I remember, it came in useful when at the end of the march
with my feet frost-bitten, my heart beating slowly, my vitality at its
lowest ebb, my body solid with cold, I used to seize the shovel and go on
digging snow on to the tent skirting while the cook inside was trying to
light the primus. "You've got it in the neck--stick it--stick it--you've
got it in the neck," was the refrain, and I wanted every little bit of
encouragement it would give me: then I would find myself repeating "Stick
it--stick it--stick it--stick it," and then "You've got it in the neck."
One of the joys of summer sledging is that you can let your mind wander
thousands of miles away for weeks and weeks. Oates used to provision his
little yacht (there was a pickled herring he was going to have): I
invented the compactest little revolving bookcase which was going to hold
not books, but pemmican and chocolate and biscuit and cocoa and sugar,
and have a cooker on the top, and was going to stand always ready to
quench my hunger when I got home: and we visited restaurants and theatres
and grouse moors, and we thought of a pretty girl, or girls, and.... But
now that was all impossible. Our conditions forced themselves upon us
without pause: it was not possible to think of anything else. We got no
respite. I found it best to refuse to let myself think of the past or the
future--to live only for the job of the moment, and to compel myself to
think only how to do it most efficiently. Once you let yourself
imagine....

This day also (July 1) we were harassed by a nasty little wind which blew
in our faces. The temperature was -66 deg., and in such temperatures the
effect of even the lightest airs is blighting, and immediately freezes
any exposed part. But we all fitted the bits of wind-proof lined with
fur which we had made in the hut, across our balaclavas in front of our
noses, and these were of the greatest comfort. They formed other places
upon which our breath could freeze, and the lower parts of our faces were
soon covered with solid sheets of ice, which was in itself an additional
protection. This was a normal and not uncomfortable condition during the
journey: the hair on our faces kept the ice away from the skin, and for
myself I would rather have the ice than be without it, until I want to
get my balaclava off to drink my hoosh. We only made 21/4 miles, and it
took 8 hours.

It blew force 3 that night with a temperature of -65.