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The South Pole, Volume 2

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Meanwhile the new sights we expected were slow in coming. We marched
for four days due east without seeing a sign of change in the ground;
there was the same undulating surface that we knew so well from
previous expeditions. The readings of the hypsometer gave practically
the same result day after day; the ascent we were looking for failed
to appear.

Stubberud, who for the first day or two after leaving the depot had
been constantly stretching himself on tiptoe and looking out for
mountain-tops, finally gave it as his heartfelt conviction that this
King Edward Land we were hunting for was only a confounded "Flyaway
Land," which had nothing to do with reality. We others were not yet
quite prepared to share this view; for my own part, in any case, I was
loth to give up the theory that assumed a southward continuation of
King Edward Land along the 158th meridian; this theory had acquired
a certain force during the winter, and was mainly supported by the
fact that on the second depot journey we had seen, between the 81st
and 82nd parallels, some big pressure-ridges, which suggested the
presence of bare land in a south-easterly direction.

On November 16 we found ourselves at the 158th meridian, but on
every side the eye encountered the level, uninterrupted snow surface
and nothing else. Should we go on? It was tempting enough, as the
probability was that sooner or later we should come upon something;
but there was a point in our instructions that had to be followed, and
it said: Go to the point where land is marked on the chart. This point
was now about 120 geographical miles to the north of us. Therefore,
instead of going on to the east in uncertainty, we decided to turn to
the left and go north. The position of the spot where we altered our
course was determined, and it was marked by a snow beacon 7 feet high,
on the top of which was placed a tin box containing a brief report.

On that part of the way which we now had before us there was little
prospect of meeting with surprises; nor did any fall to our lot. In
day's marches that varied from seventeen to twenty geographical miles,
we went forward over practically level ground. The nature of the
surface was at first ideal; but as we came farther north and thus
nearer to the sea, our progress was impeded by a great number of big
snow-waves (sastrugi), which had probably been formed during the long
period of bad weather that preceded our departure from Framheim. We
did not escape damage on this bad surface. Stubberud broke the forward
part of the spare ski he had lashed under his sledge, and Johansen's
sledge also suffered from the continual bumping against the hard
sastrugi. Luckily he had been foreseeing enough to bring a little
hickory bar, which came in very handy as a splint for the broken part.

As we were now following the direction of the meridian, or in other
words, as our course was now true north, the daily observations of
latitude gave a direct check on the readings of the sledge-meter. As
a rule they agreed to the nearest minute. Whilst I was taking
the noon altitude my companions had the choice of standing by the
side of their sledges and eating their lunch, or setting the tent
and taking shelter. They generally chose the latter alternative,
making up for it by going an hour longer in the afternoon. Besides
the astronomical observations, the barometric pressure, temperature,
force and direction of the wind, and amount of cloud were noted three
times daily; every evening a hypsometer reading was taken.

If I were to undertake the description of a long series of days like
those that passed while we were travelling on the flat Barrier,
I am afraid the narrative would be strikingly reminiscent of the
celebrated song of a hundred and twenty verses, all with the same
rhyme. One day was very much like another. One would think that
this monotony would make the time long, but the direct opposite was
the case. I have never known time fly so rapidly as on these sledge
journeys, and seldom have I seen men more happy and contented with
their existence than we three, when after a successful day's march
we could set about taking our simple meal, with a pipe of cut plug to
follow. The bill of fare was identically the same every day, perhaps
a fault in the eyes of many; variety of diet is supposed to be the
thing. Hang variety, say I; appetite is what matters. To a man who
is really hungry it is a very subordinate matter what he shall eat;
the main thing is to have something to satisfy his hunger.

After going north for seven days, we found that according to
observations and sledge-meter we ought to be in the neighbourhood of
the sea. This was correct. My diary for November 23 reads:

"To-day we were to see something besides sky and snow. An hour after
breaking camp this morning two snowy petrels came sailing over us;
a little while later a couple of skua gulls. We welcomed them as the
first living creatures we had seen since leaving winter-quarters. The
constantly increasing 'water-sky' to the north had long ago warned
us that we were approaching the sea; the presence of the birds told
us it was not far off. The skua gulls settled very near us, and the
dogs, no doubt taking them for baby seals, were of course ready to
break the line of march, and go off hunting, but their keenness soon
passed when they discovered that the game had wings.

"The edge of the Barrier was difficult to see, and, profiting by
previous experience of how easy it is to go down when the light is bad,
we felt our way forward step by step. At four o'clock we thought we
could see the precipice. A halt was made at a safe distance, and I
went in advance to look over. To my surprise I found that there was
open water right in to the wall of ice. We had expected the sea-ice
to extend a good way out still, seeing it was so early in summer; but
there lay the sea, almost free of ice as far as the horizon. Black
and threatening it was to look at, but still a beneficent contrast
to the everlasting snow surface on which we had now tramped for 300
geographical miles.

The perpendicular drop of 100 feet that forms the boundary between
the dead Barrier and the sea, with its varied swarm of life, is
truly an abrupt and imposing transition. The panorama from the top
of the ice-wall is always grand, and it can be beautiful as well. On
a sunny day, or still more on a moonlit night, it has a fairylike
beauty. To-day a heavy, black sky hung above a still blacker sea, and
the ice-wall, which shines in the light with a dazzling white purity,
looked more like an old white-washed wall than anything else. There
was not a breath of wind; the sound of the surf at the bottom of the
precipice now and then reached my ears -- this was the only thing
that broke the vast silence. One's own dear self becomes so miserably
small in these mighty surroundings; it was a sheer relief to get back
to the company of my comrades."

As things now were, with open water up to the Barrier itself, our
prospect of getting seals here at the edge of the ice seemed a poor
one. Next morning, however, we found, a few miles farther east, a
bay about four miles long, and almost entirely enclosed. It was still
frozen over, and seals were lying on the ice by the dozen. Here was
food enough to give both ourselves and the dogs an extra feed and to
replenish our supplies. We camped and went off to examine the ground
more closely. There were plenty of crevasses, but a practicable descent
was found, and in a very short time three full-grown seals and a fat
young one were despatched. We hauled half a carcass up to the camp
with the Alpine rope. As we were hard at work dragging our spoil up
the steep slope, we heard Stubberud sing out, "Below, there!" --
and away he went like a stone in a well. He had gone through the
snow-bridge on which we were standing, but a lucky projection stopped
our friend from going very far down, besides which he had taken a
firm round turn with the rope round his wrist. It was, therefore,
a comparatively easy matter to get him up on the surface again. This
little intermezzo would probably have been avoided if we had not been
without our ski, but the slope was so steep and smooth that we could
not use them. After a few more hauls we had the seal up by the tent,
where a large quantity of it disappeared in a surprisingly short time
down the throats of fifteen hungry dogs.

The ice of the bay was furrowed by numerous leads, and while the
hunters were busy cutting up the seals, I tried to get a sounding,
but the thirty fathoms of Alpine rope I had were not enough; no
bottom was reached. After having something to eat we went down again,
in order if possible to find out the depth. This time we were better
supplied with sounding tackle two reels of thread, a marlinspike,
and our geological hammer.

First the marlinspike was sent down with the thread as a line. An
inquisitive lout of a seal did all it could to bite through the thread,
but whether this was too strong or its teeth too poor, we managed
after a lot of trouble to coax the marlinspike up again, and the
interfering rascal, who had to come up to the surface now and then
to take breath, got the spike of a ski-pole in his thick hide. This
unexpected treatment was evidently not at all to his liking, and
after acknowledging it by a roar of disgust, he vanished into the
depths. Now we got on better. The marlinspike sank and sank until
it had drawn with it 130 fathoms of thread. A very small piece of
seaweed clung to the thread as we hauled it in again; on the spike
there was nothing to be seen. As its weight was rather light for so
great a depth -- a possible setting of current might have carried it
a little to one side -- we decided to try once more with the hammer,
which was considerably heavier, in order to check the result. The
hammer, on the other hand, was so heavy, that with the delicate thread
as a line the probability of successfully carrying out the experiment
seemed small, but we had to risk it. The improvised sinker was well
smeared with blubber, and this time it sank so rapidly to the bottom
as to leave no doubt of the correctness of the sounding -- 130 fathoms
again. By using extreme care we succeeded in getting the hammer up
again in safety, but no specimen of the bottom was clinging to it.

On the way back to camp we dragged with us the carcass of the young
seal. It was past three when we got into our sleeping-bags that night,
and, in consequence, we slept a good deal later than usual the next
morning. The forenoon was spent by Johansen and Stubberud in hauling
up another seal from the bay and packing as much flesh on the sledges
as possible. As fresh meat is a commodity that takes up a great deal
of space in proportion to its weight, the quantity we were able to
take with us was not large. The chief advantage we had gained was
that a considerable supply could be stored on the spot, and it might
be useful to fall back upon in case of delay or other mishaps.

I took the observation for longitude and latitude, found the height by
hypsometer, and took some photographs. After laying down the depot and
erecting beacons, we broke camp at 3 p.m. South of the head of the bay
there were a number of elevations and pressure masses, exactly like the
formations to be found about Framheim. To the east a prominent ridge
appeared, and with the glass it could be seen to extend inland in a
south-easterly direction. According to our observations this must be
the same that Captain Scott has marked with land-shading on his chart.

We made a wide detour outside the worst pressure-ridges, and then set
our course east-north-east towards the ridge just mentioned. It was a
pretty steep rise, which was not at all a good thing for the dogs. They
had overeaten themselves shockingly, and most of the seal's flesh
came up again. So that their feast should not be altogether wasted,
we stopped as soon as we had come far enough up the ridge to be able
to regard the surface as comparatively safe; for in the depression
round the bay it was somewhat doubtful.

On the following morning -- Sunday, November 26 -- there was a gale
from the north-east with sky and Barrier lost in driving snow. That
put an end to our plans of a long Sunday march. In the midst of
our disappointment I had a sudden bright idea. It was Queen Maud's
birthday! If we could not go on, we could at least celebrate the day
in a modest fashion. In one of the provision cases there was still a
solitary Stavanger tin, containing salt beef and peas. It was opened
at once, and its contents provided a banquet that tasted better to us
than the most carefully chosen menu had ever done. In this connection
I cannot help thinking of the joy it would bring to many a household
in this world if its master were possessed of an appetite like
ours. The wife would then have no need to dread the consequences,
however serious the shortcomings of the cuisine might be. But to
return to the feast. Her Majesty's health was drunk in a very small,
but, at the same time, very good tot of aquavit, served in enamelled
iron mugs. Carrying alcohol was, of course, against regulations,
strictly speaking; but, as everyone knows, prohibition is not an
easy thing to put into practice. Even in Antarctica this proved to be
the case. Lindström had a habit of sending a little surprise packet
with each sledging party that went out, and on our departure he had
handed us one of these, with the injunction that the packet was only
to be opened on some festive occasion; we chose as such Her Majesty's
birthday. On examination the packet was found to contain a little flask
of spirits, in which we at once agreed to drink the Queen's health.

The 27th brought the same nasty weather, and the 28th was not much
better, though not bad enough to stop us. After a deal of hard work
in hauling our buried belongings out of the snow, we got away and
continued our course to the north-eastward. It was not exactly an
agreeable morning: a brisk wind with driving snow right in one's
face. After trudging against this for a couple of hours I heard
Stubberud call "Halt!" -- half his team were hanging by the traces in a
crevasse. I had gone across without noticing anything; no doubt owing
to the snow in my face. One would think the dogs would be suspicious
of a place like this; but they are not -- they plunge on till the
snow-bridge breaks under them. Luckily the harness held, so that it
was the affair of a moment to pull the poor beasts up again. Even a
dog might well be expected to be a trifle shaken after hanging head
downwards over such a fearful chasm; but apparently they took it very
calmly, and were quite prepared to do the same thing over again.

For my own part I looked out more carefully after this, and although
there were a good many ugly fissures on the remaining part of the
ascent, we crossed them all without further incident.

Unpleasant as these crevasses are, they do not involve any direct
danger, so long as the weather is clear and the light favourable. One
can then judge by the appearance of the surface whether there is danger
ahead; and if crevasses are seen in time, there is always a suitable
crossing to be found. The case is somewhat different in fog, drift,
or when the light is such that the small inequalities marking the
course of the crevasse do not show up. This last is often the case in
cloudy weather, when even a fairly prominent rise will not be noticed
on the absolutely white surface until one falls over it. In such
conditions it is safest to feel one's way forward with the ski-pole;
though this mode of proceeding is more troublesome than effective.

In the course of the 28th the ascent came to an end, and with it
the crevasses. The wind fell quite light, and the blinding drift was
succeeded by clear sunshine. We had now come sufficiently high up to
have a view of the sea far to the north-west. During the high wind
a quantity of ice had been driven southward, so that for a great
distance there was no open water to be seen, but a number of huge
icebergs. From the distance of the sea horizon we guessed our height
to be about 1,000 feet, and in the evening the hypsometer showed the
guess to be very nearly right.

November 29. -- Weather and going all that could be wished on breaking
camp this morning; before us we had a level plateau, which appeared
to be quite free from unpleasant obstructions. When we halted for the
noon observation the sledge-meter showed ten geographical miles, and
before evening we had brought the day's distance up to twenty. The
latitude was then 77° 32'. The distance to the Barrier edge on the
north was, at a guess, about twenty geographical miles. We were now
a good way along the peninsula, the northern point of which Captain
Scott named Cape Colbeck, and at the same time a good way to the
east of the meridian in which he put land-shading on his chart. Our
height above the sea, which was now about 1,000 feet, was evidence
enough that we had firm land under us, but it was still sheathed in
ice. In that respect the landscape offered no change from what we had
learnt to know by the name of "Barrier." It cannot be denied that at
this juncture I began to entertain a certain doubt of the existence
of bare land in this quarter.

This doubt was not diminished when we had done another good day's
march to the eastward on November 30. According to our observations we
were then just below the point where the Alexandra Mountains should
begin, but there was no sign of mountain ranges; the surface was a
little rougher, perhaps. However, it was still too soon to abandon
the hope. It would be unreasonable to expect any great degree of
accuracy of the chart we had to go by; its scale was far too large for
that. It was, moreover, more than probable that our own determination
of longitude was open to doubt.

Assuming the approximate accuracy of the chart, by holding on to
the north-east we ought soon to come down to the seaboard, and with
this object in view we continued our march. On December 1, in the
middle of the day, we saw that everything agreed. From the top of an
eminence the sea was visible due north, and on the east two domed
summits were outlined, apparently high enough to be worthy of the
name of mountains. They were covered with snow, but on the north
side of them there was an abrupt precipice, in which many black
patches showed up sharply against the white background. It was still
too soon to form an idea as to whether they were bare rock or not;
they might possibly be fissures in the mass of ice. The appearance
of the summits agreed exactly with Captain Scott's description of
what he saw from the deck of the Discovery in 1902. He assumed that
the black patches were rocks emerging from the snow-slopes. As will
be seen later, our respected precursor was right.

In order to examine the nature of the seaboard, we began by steering
down towards it; but in the meantime the weather underwent an
unfavourable change. The sky clouded over and the light became
as vile as it could be. The point we were anxious to clear up was
whether there was any Barrier wall here, or whether the land and
sea-ice gradually passed into each other in an easy slope. As the
light was, there might well have been a drop of 100 feet without our
seeing anything of it. Securely roped together we made our way down,
until our progress was stopped by a huge pressure-ridge, which,
as far as could be made out, formed the boundary between land and
sea-ice. It was, however, impossible in the circumstances to get
any clear view of the surroundings, and after trudging back to the
sledges, which had been left up on the slope, we turned to the east
to make a closer examination of the summits already mentioned. I went
in front, as usual, in the cheerful belief that we had a fairly level
stretch before us, but I was far out in my calculation. My ski began
to slip along at a terrific speed, and it was advisable to put on the
brake. This was easily done as far as I was concerned, but with the
dogs it was a different matter. Nothing could stop them when they
felt that the sledge was running by its own weight; they went in a
wild gallop down the slope, the end of which could not at present be
seen. I suppose it will sound like a tall story, but it is a fact,
nevertheless, that to our eyes the surface appeared to be horizontal
all the time. Snow, horizon and sky all ran together in a white chaos,
in which all lines of demarcation were obliterated.

Fortunately nothing came of our expectation that the scamper would
have a frightful ending in some insidious abyss. It was stopped quite
naturally by an opposing slope, which appeared to be as steep as the
one we had just slid down. If the pace had been rather too rapid
before, there was now no ground of complaint on that score. Step
by step we crawled up to the top of the ridge; but the ground was
carefully surveyed before we proceeded farther.

In the course of the afternoon we groped our way forward over a
whole series of ridges and intervening depressions. Although nothing
could be seen, it was obvious enough that our surroundings were now
of an entirely different character from anything we had previously
been accustomed to. The two mountain summits had disappeared in the
fleecy mist, but the increasing unevenness of the ground showed that
we were approaching them. Meanwhile I considered it inadvisable to
come to close quarters with them so long as we were unable to use
our eyes, and, remembering what happens when the blind leads the
blind, we camped. For the first time during the trip I had a touch of
snow-blindness that afternoon. This troublesome and rightly dreaded
complaint was a thing that we had hitherto succeeded in keeping off
by a judicious use of our excellent snow-goggles. Among my duties
as forerunner was that of maintaining the direction, and this, at
times, involved a very severe strain on the eyes. In thick weather
it is only too easy to yield to the temptation of throwing off the
protective goggles, with the idea that one can see better without
them. Although I knew perfectly well what the consequence would be,
I had that afternoon broken the commandment of prudence. The trifling
smart I felt in my eyes was cured by keeping the goggles on for
a couple of hours after we were in the tent. Like all other ills,
snow-blindness may easily be dispelled by taking it in time.

Next morning the sun's disc could just be made out through a veil
of thin stratus clouds, and then the light was more or less normal
again. As soon as we could see what our surroundings were, it was clear
enough that we had done right in stopping the game of blind man's buff
we had been playing on the previous day. It might otherwise have had
an unpleasant ending. Right across our line of route and about 500
yards from our camp the surface was so broken up that it was more
like a sieve than anything else. In the background the masses of
snow were piled in huge drifts down a steep slope on the north-west
side of the two mountains. It was impossible to take the sledges any
farther on the way we had hitherto been following, but in the course
of the day we worked round by a long detour to the foot of the most
westerly of the mountains. We were then about 1,000 feet above the
sea; to the north of us we had the abrupt descent already mentioned,
to the south it was quite flat. Our view to the east was shut in by
the two mountains, and our first idea was to ascend to the tops of
them, but the powers of the weather again opposed us with their full
force. A stiff south-east wind set in and increased in the course of
half an hour to a regular blizzard. Little as it suited our wishes,
there was nothing to be done but to creep back into the tent. For
a whole month now we had seen scarcely anything but fair weather,
and the advance of summer had given us hopes that it would hold;
but just when it suited us least of all came a dismal change.

The light Antarctic summer night ran its course, while the gusts
of wind tugged and tore at the thin sides of our tent; no snowfall
accompanied the south-easterly wind, but the loose snow of the surface
was whirled up into a drift that stood like an impenetrable wall round
the tent. After midnight it moderated a little, and by four o'clock
there was comparatively fair weather. We were on our feet at once, put
together camera, glasses, aneroids, axe, Alpine rope, with some lumps
of pemmican to eat on the way, and then went off for a morning walk
with the nearer of the two hills as our goal. All three of us went,
leaving the dogs in charge of the camp. They were not so fresh now that
they would not gladly accept all the rest that was offered them. We
had no need to fear any invasion of strangers; the land we had come
to appeared to be absolutely devoid of living creatures of any kind.

The hill was farther off and higher than it appeared at first; the
aneroid showed a rise of 700 feet when we reached the top. As our
camp lay at a height of 1,000 feet, this gave us 1,700 feet as the
height of this hill above the sea. The side we went up was covered
by névé, which, to judge from the depth of the cracks, must have been
immense. As we approached the summit and our view over the surrounding
ground became wider, the belief that we should see so much as a crag
of this King Edward Land grew weaker and weaker. There was nothing
but white on every side, not a single consolatory little black patch,
however carefully we looked. And to think that we had been dreaming
of great mountain masses in the style of McMurdo Sound, with sunny
slopes, penguins by the thousand, seals and all the rest! All these
visions were slowly but surely sunk in an endless sea of snow, and
when at last we stood on the highest point, we certainly thought
there could be no chance of a revival of our hopes.

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