thread and wool.
Extra pair of finnesko.
Big safety-pins with which to hang up our socks.
And perhaps one small book.

My most vivid recollection of the day we started is the sight of Bowers,
out of breath, very hot, and in great pain from a bad knock which he had
given his knee against a rock, being led forward by his big pony Uncle
Bill, over whom temporarily he had but little control. He had been left
behind in the camp, giving last instructions about the storage of cases
and management of provisions, and had practically lost himself in trying
to follow us over what was then unknown ground. He was wearing all the
clothing which was not included in his personal gear, for he did not
think it fair to give the pony the extra weight. He had bruised his leg
in an ugly way, and for many days he came to me to bandage it. He was
afraid that if he let the doctors see it they would forbid him to go
forward. He had had no sleep for seventy-two hours.

That first night (January 24) we pitched our inexperienced camp not far
from Hut Point. But our first taste of sledging was not without incident.
Starting with the ponies only we walked them to Glacier Tongue, where the
ice and open water joined, and as we went we watched the ship pass us out
in the Strait and moor up to the end of the Tongue. Getting the ponies
across the Tongue with its shallow but numerous crevasses and holes was
ticklish work, but we tethered them safely off the Terra Nova, which
meanwhile was landing dogs, sledges and gear. Then we got some lunch on
board. A large lead in the sea-ice to the south of the Tongue
necessitated some hours' work in man-hauling all sledges along the back
of the Tongue until a way could be found down on to safe ice. We then
followed with the ponies. "If a pony falls into one of these holes I