whereon my crampons had made their mark. From here I easily traced my
footmarks back, and was soon in company with my friends. They were truly
relieved at my news. On consulting my watch I found that I had been away
one hour. It took us actually three times as long to work our sledge out
into the smooth ice of the glacier, but this reached, we camped and made
some tea before marching on to the depot, which lay but a few miles from
us.

We ate the last of our biscuits at this camp and finished everything but
tea and sugar, then, new men, we struck our little camp, harnessed up and
swept down over the smooth ice with scarcely an effort needed to move the
sledge along. When we reached the depot we had another meal and slept
through the night and well on into the next day.

Consulting my old Antarctic diary I see that the last sentence written on
the 17th January says, "I had to keep my goggles off all day as it was a
matter of life or death with us, and snow blindness must be risked after
..." (a gap follows here until 29th January). The next day I had an awful
attack of snow blindness, but the way down the glacier was so easy that
it did not matter. I forgot whether Lashly or Crean led then, but I
marched alongside, keeping in touch with the trace by hitching the
lanyard of my sundial on to it and holding this in my hand. I usually
carried the sundial slung round my neck, so that it was easy to pick it
up and consult it. That day I was in awful pain, and although we had some
dope for putting on our eyes when so smitten, I found that the greatest
relief of all was obtained by bandaging my eyes with a poultice made of
tea leaves after use--quaint places, quaint practices but the tip is
worth considering for future generations of explorers and alpine
climbers.