Cape Evans, day 1. It\u2019s the first of November in 1911 AD.
\nThe moment has come. We\u2019ve departed due south in detachments on sledges and ski.
\nI\u2019m keeping this log wrapped in oilskin – it seems like a lifeline to lands I once knew.
\nGod knows – maybe scholars will read it some day, though it is not applause I pursue.<\/p>\n
Amundsen, finally!, why all the secrecy? Why would I stop you and how?<\/em> Day 32. The weather is worsening. All are soaked through and nigh blind. Day 54. It is Christmas. We\u2019ve laboured a good 18 miles through the storm. Terra, Terra Nova, last white patch on the map and a promise unsaid,<\/strong> Day 65. 88 degrees south. I have chosen for strength and esprit: Day 74. Lord, I\u2019m tired. My toes feel like marble and start to turn black. Amundsen, say, do you care who I am? Does it sting when they mention my name?<\/em> Day 75. He was first. We\u2019re defeated. A tiring trip back lies ahead. Terra, Terra Nova, grey horizons close in in a strangling embrace,<\/strong> Day 105. There\u2019s a shortage of oil – it appears our tins were unsound. Day 133 – – – or four? I lost count a few pages ago. Amundsen, how I am struggling to wish you fair skies and a swift, safe return!<\/em> Day 142. Pray, England, provide for our wives when we\u2019re gone. Amundsen – – – Roald, somehow you were here by my side in these frozen, lost lands –<\/em> Terra, Terra Nova, past the ridges and rifts when the north winds have died,<\/strong> lyrics: 04-10-2008. music: 08-22-2012 Cape Evans, day 1. It\u2019s the first of November in 1911 AD. The moment has come. We\u2019ve departed due south in detachments on sledges and ski. I\u2019m keeping this log wrapped in oilskin – it seems like a lifeline to lands I once knew. God knows – maybe scholars will read it some day, though… <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":625,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-636","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/pairodice.de\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/636","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/pairodice.de\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/pairodice.de\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pairodice.de\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pairodice.de\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=636"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/pairodice.de\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/636\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":859,"href":"https:\/\/pairodice.de\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/636\/revisions\/859"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pairodice.de\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/625"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/pairodice.de\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=636"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nI’ve faced fate before, I have never shown fear nor regret, and I\u2019m not starting now.<\/em>
\nThe Pole\u2019s so much more than a dot on the map where meridian lines interlace.<\/em>
\nWe\u2019re politely denying; \u201eIt\u2019s science\u201c, we\u2019re lying, and yet – we both know it\u2019s a race.<\/em><\/p>\n
\nThe motorized sledges won\u2019t work in the cold – we\u2019ve unloaded and left them behind.
\nTwo ponies were ailing and had to be shot – they were spending themselves in this snow.
\nOnce we climb Beardmore Glacier it\u2019s bound to clear up. We\u2019ll raise speed on the polar plateau.<\/p>\n
\nHad pony-hoosh, plum-duff and biscuits for dinner, our tent overcrowded, but warm.
\nWe sang a few carols, then sat in a hush while the wind sang its answer outside.
\nThe world seemed so vast – we sought refuge in laughter, yet, deeper, the emptiness cried.<\/p>\n
\nTerra, Terra Nova – always just one pace ahead. . .<\/strong><\/p>\n
\nFive men for the pole – Laurence Oates, Edward Wilson, \u201aTaff\u2019 Evans, H. Bowers – and me.
\nThe others turn back – their support shift is over. They\u2019re brooding and hard to console.
\nTeddy left me the handkerchief flag from his wife – I have pledged it would fly on the pole.<\/p>\n
\nWe\u2019ve now man-hauled the sledges for 400 miles and I feel every step in my back.
\nStill, we\u2019re cheerful and blithe – we\u2019re so close to our goal! One more day at this speed might suffice.
\nOur hearts race ahead – we can hardly keep up. There is something ahead on the ice. . .<\/p>\n
\nMy men give account of your poise and good nature. My jealousy fills me with shame.<\/em>
\nStill – it\u2019s I who broke ground – you\u2019ve not challenged my claim, your blunt telegram was but a dare.<\/em>
\nFor all set-backs and strains, we have not given up – do you hear me? We almost are there!<\/em><\/p>\n
\nAmundsen left us some stores, meaning well, but it feels like derision instead.
\nWe\u2019re disheartened. Great God! What a desolate waste of harsh edges and pitiless light.
\nNo prize for our toil and no nightfall to veil the offence of that flag in the white.<\/p>\n
\nTerra, Terra Nova, where do we go from this place?<\/strong><\/p>\n
\nMinus 40 degrees. Each 200-pound-sledge starts to clog up and freeze to the ground.
\nEvans has fallen – he\u2019s addled and weak. I\u2019m afraid he won\u2019t last at this pace.
\nStep by step we walk into a hazy, bright void and the winds cover up every trace.<\/p>\n
\nLaurence Oates knew his illness was slowing us down. In the evening, he left for the snow.
\nWhen he opened the flap, said \u201eI may be some time\u201c, we were struck by the courage he showed.
\nThere was greatness and strength in that quiet, last choice, though it was not in line with the code.<\/p>\n
\nSurvivor and victor. I smile as I watch our last oil feebly flare up and burn.<\/em>
\nYet, each day, in my mirror, your eyes hold my gaze, so alike in ambition and pride.<\/em>
\nIn the books, maybe, I will live on for a while as your shadow – the Captain Who Tried.<\/em><\/p>\n
\nWilson and Bowers have not stirred for hours. I\u2019ve hardly the strength to write on.
\nBarely 12 miles to the depot, and yet – – – half a world and a lifetime away.
\nI\u2019ve lain waiting for almost a week in this blizzard. . . drawing closer each day. . .<\/p>\n
\nalmost a friend midst a terrible beauty that no-one but us understands.<\/em>
\nIt was done. In the face of that feat it seems vain who was first, if we came back or not.<\/em>
\nAnyway, thanks that you stayed till the end. Robert Falcon Scott.<\/em><\/p>\n
\nTerra, Terra Nova – only one step to the side. . .<\/strong><\/p>\n
\nIn Memoriam Robert Falcon Scott.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"