C Ihe Ladies c cu. V'VVAN - History and Classics, Department of

I2I(r; A TumiPointWe slept on sand that night at Barrier River camp, and a very hard bed itwas. Sand has no power of giving, whereas pebbles, as we proved to our own satisfaction,afford nestling pockets for the softer parts of the body. On some of theshorter days we slept on delicious beds of spruce tips or poplar twigs, but therewere evenings on which neither we nor our guides could summon enough energyto cut and lay such luxurious bedding.As I look back now on that camp, I see it as the turning point of our strugglewith the Rat. The worst difficulties, though we did not realise this at the time,were behind us. The mosquitoes were still thick as ever and other tormentsawaited us in the nature of the ground over which we would have to walk or hopor jump, but battling at a slant across rapids and navigating swift water against thecurrent, were things of the past and never again did we have to camp dangerouslyclose to the level of a rising flood. On the other hand our reserves of energy werelow. Continual struggle with undergrowth, continual wading through streams,long days and short nights, the unremitting persecution of mosquitoes, all thesethings were beginning to tell on us. We got up a little more reluctantly eachmorning, and each night went to bed more exhausted. A significant entry in mydiary at this stage betrays the fact that we were flagging. "Short hours of sleep andlong hours on the march, with hardly ever a sit-down in peace from mosquitoes,are beginning to make us feel a bit empty."Remembering clearly, as I do, our evening feelings of exhaustion at that stageof the journey, I regard this entry as an understatement.