Scott had already made a great geographical journey in spite of adverse
weather conditions, which had severely handicapped him throughout, but he
was nevertheless behindhand in his expectations, and although the
attainment of the Pole was practically within his grasp, the long 900
mile march homeward from that spot had to be considered. It was
principally on this account that Captain Scott changed his marching
organisation and took Bowers from the last supporting party. After the
first day's homeward march I realised that the nine hours' marching day
was insufficient. We had to make average daily marches of 17 miles in
order to remain on full provisions whilst returning over that featureless
snow-capped plateau.

Although the first day northward bound was radiantly fine and the
travelling surface all that could be desired, we were compelled to push
on until quite late to ensure covering the prescribed distance--for a
short march on the first day would have augured a gloomy future for us.

Reluctant as I was to confess it to myself, I soon realised that the
ceding of one man from my party had been too great a sacrifice, but there
was no denying it, and I was eventually compelled to explain the
situation to Lashly and Crean and lay bare the naked truth. No man was
ever better served than I was by these two; they cheerfully accepted the
inevitable, and throughout our home-ward march the three of us literally
stole minutes and seconds from each day in order to add to our marches,
but it was a fight for life: The rarified air made our breathing more
difficult, and we suffered from shortness of breath whenever the
inequalities of the surface became severe, and sudden jerks conveyed
themselves to our tired bodies through the medium of the rope traces.