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The South Pole, Volumes 1 and 2

R >> Roald Amundsen >> The South Pole, Volumes 1 and 2




As evidence of how pleased we who took part in the long sledge journey
were with these stockings, I may mention that when we reached the depot
in 80°S. -- on the homeward trip, be it noted; that is, when we looked
upon the journey as over -- we found there some bags with various
articles of clothing. In one of these were two pairs of windproof
stockings -- the bag presumably belonged to an opponent of the idea --
and it may be imagined that there was some fun. We all wanted them --
all, without exception. The two lucky ones each seized his pair and
hid it, as if it was the most costly treasure. What they wanted with
them I cannot guess, as we were at home; but this example shows how
we had learnt to appreciate them.

I recommend them most warmly to men who are undertaking similar
expeditions. But -- I must add -- they must give themselves the trouble
of taking off their foot-gear every evening, and brushing the rime off
their stockings; if one does not do this, of course, the rime will thaw
in the course of the night, and everything will be soaking wet in the
morning. In that case you must not blame the stockings, but yourself.

After this it was the turn of the underclothing; there was nothing
in the tailoring and outfitting department that Wisting could not
manage. Among our medical stores we had two large rolls of the most
beautiful fine light flannel, and of this he made underclothing for
all of us. What we had brought out from home was made of extremely
thick woollen material, and we were afraid this would be too
warm. Personally, I wore Wisting's make the whole trip, and have never
known anything so perfect. Then he had covers for the sleeping-bags
to sew and patch, and one thing and another. Some people give one the
impression of being able to make anything, and to get it done in no
time -- others not.

Hanssen had his days well occupied, industrious and handy as he
was. He was an expert at anything relating to sledges, and knew
exactly what had to be done. Whatever he had a hand in, I could
feel sure of; he never left anything to chance. Besides lashing
the sledges, he had a number of other things to do. Amongst them,
he was to prepare all the whips we required -- two for each driver,
or fourteen altogether. Stubberud was to supply the handles. In
consultation with the "Carpenters' Union," I had chosen a handle
made of three narrow strips of hickory. I assumed that if these were
securely lashed together, and the lashings covered with leather,
they would make as strong a handle as one could expect to get. The
idea of the composite handle of three pieces of wood was that it would
give and bend instead of breaking. We knew by experience that a solid
whip-handle did not last very long. It was arranged, then, that the
handles were to be made by Stubberud, and passed on to Hanssen.

The whip-lashes were made by Hassel, in the course of the winter, on
the Eskimo model. They were round and heavy -- as they should be --
and dangerous to come near, when they were wielded by an experienced
hand. Hanssen received these different parts to join them together and
make the whip. As usual, this was done with all possible care. Three
strong lashings were put on each handle, and these again were covered
with leather. Personally, Hanssen was not in favour of the triple
hickory handle, but he did the work without raising any objection. We
all remarked, it is true, that at this time, contrary to his habit,
he spent the hours after supper with Wisting. I wondered a little at
this, as I knew Hanssen was very fond of a game of whist after supper,
and never missed it unless he had work to do. I happened one evening
to express my surprise at this, and Stubberud answered at once:
"He's making handles." -- "What sort of handles?" -- "Whip-handles;
but," Stubberud added, "I'll guarantee those hickory handles I'm
making. You can't have anything tougher and stronger than those." He
was rather sore about it, that was easy to see; the idea was his own,
too. Then -- talk of the devil -- in walked Hanssen, with a fine big
whip in his hand. I, of course, appeared extremely surprised. "What,"
I said, "more whips?" -- "Yes," said he; "I don't believe in those
I'm making in the daytime. But here's a whip that I can trust." I
must admit that it looked well. The whole handle was covered, so that
one could not see what it was made of. "But," I ventured to object,
"are you sure it is as strong as the others?" -- "Oh, as to that,"
he answered, "I'm quite ready to back it against any of those --
" He did not say the word, nor was there any need. His meaning was
unmistakable, and "rotten whips" sounded in our ears as plainly as
if he had shouted it. I had no time to observe the effect of this
terrible utterance, for a determined voice called out: "We'll see
about that!" I turned round, and there was Stubberud leaning against
the end of the table, evidently hurt by Hanssen's words, which he took
as a personal affront. "If you dare risk your whip, come on." He had
taken down one of the insulted triple-handled whips from the shelf in
his bunk, and stood in a fighting attitude. This promised well. We
all looked at Hanssen. He had gone too far to be able to draw back;
he had to fight. He took his weapon in his hand, and entered the
"ring." The conditions were arranged and accepted by both parties;
they were to fight until one of the handles was broken. And then the
whip duel began. The opponents were very serious over it. One, two,
three -- the first blow fell, handle against handle. The combatants
had shut their eyes and awaited the result; when they opened them
again, they shone with happy surprise -- both handles were as whole as
before. Now each of them was really delighted with his own handle,
and the blows fell faster. Stubberud, who was standing with his
back to the table, got so excited over the unexpected result that,
every time he raised his weapon, he gave the edge of the table a
resounding smack without knowing it. How many rounds had been fought
I do not know, when I heard a crack, followed by the words: "There
you can see, old man!" As Stubberud left the ring, I was able to see
Hanssen. He stood on the battle-field, eyeing his whip; it looked like
a broken lily. The spectators had not been silent; they had followed
the fight with excitement, amid laughter and shouts. "That's right,
Stubberud. Don't give in!" "Bravo, Hanssen! that's a good one!"

The whips afterwards turned out remarkably well -- not that they lasted
out the trip, but they held together for a long while. Whip-handles
are a very perishable commodity; if one used nothing but the lash,
they would be everlasting, but, as a rule, one is not long satisfied
with that. It is when one gives a "confirmation," as we call it, that
the handle breaks. A confirmation is generally held when some sinner
or other has gone wrong and refuses to obey. It consists in taking the
first opportunity, when the sledge stops, of going in among the dogs,
taking out the defiant one, and laying into him with the handle. These
confirmations, if they occur frequently, may use up a lot of handles.

It was also arranged that Hanssen should prepare goggles in the Eskimo
fashion, and he began this work; but it soon appeared that everyone
had some patent of his own which was much better. Therefore it was
given up, and every man made his own goggles.

Stubberud's chief work was making the sledge cases lighter, and
he succeeded in doing this, but not without hard work. It took far
longer than one would have thought. The wood had a good many knots,
and he often had to work against the grain; the planing was therefore
rather difficult and slow. He planed a good deal off them, but could
"guarantee them," as he said. Their sides were not many millimetres
thick; to strengthen them in the joints, corners of aluminium were
put on.

In addition to remaking the sledges, Bjaaland had to get the ski
ready. To fit the big, broad boots we should wear, the Huitfeldt
fittings had to be much broader than usual, and we had such with us,
so that Bjaaland had only to change them. The ski-bindings were like
the snow-goggles; everyone had his own patent. I found the bindings
that Bjaaland had put on for himself so efficient that I had no
hesitation in ordering similar ones for myself; and it may be said
to their honour, and to the honour of him who made them, that they
were first-rate, and served me well during the whole trip. They were,
after all, only a retention of the old system, but, with the help of
hooks and eyes, they could be put on and taken off in an instant. And
those were the conditions we demanded of our bindings -- that they
should hold the foot as firmly as a vice, and should be easy to hook
on and take off. For we always had to take them off on the journey;
if one left one's bindings out for a night, they were gone in the
morning. The dogs looked upon them as a delicacy. The toe-strap also
had to be removed in the evening; in other words, the ski had to be
left absolutely bare.

Johansen, besides his packing, was occupied in making weights and
tent-pegs. The weights were very ingeniously made; the steelyard
system was adopted. If they were never used, it was not the fault of
the weights -- they were good enough. But the reason was that we had
all our provisions so arranged that they could be taken without being
weighed. We were all weighed on August 6, and it then appeared that
Lindström was the heaviest, with 13 st. 8 lbs. On that occasion he was
officially christened "Fatty." The tent-pegs Johansen made were the
opposite of what such pegs usually are; in other words, they were flat
instead of being high. We saw the advantage at once. Besides being
so much lighter, they were many times stronger. I do not know that
we ever broke a peg on the trip; possibly we lost one or two. Most
of them were brought home undamaged.

Hassel worked at his whip-lashes down in the petroleum store. It was
an uncomfortable place for him -- always cold; but he had the lashes
ready by the time he had promised them.

Prestrud made charts and copied out tables. Six of us were to have
these copies. In each sledge there was a combined provision and
observation book, bearing the same number as the sledge. It contained,
first, an exact list of the provisions contained in each case on that
sledge, and, in addition, the necessary tables for our astronomical
observations. In these books each man kept a daily account of every
scrap of provisions he took out; in this way we could always check
the contents of the cases, and know what quantity of provisions we
had. Farther on in the book the observations were entered, and the
distance covered for the day, course, and so on.

That is a rough outline of what we were doing in the course of the
winter in "working hours." Besides this there were, of course,
a hundred things that every man had to do for his personal
equipment. During the winter each man had his outfit served out
to him, so that he might have time to make whatever alterations he
found necessary. Every man received a heavy and a lighter suit of
reindeer-skin, as well as reindeer-skin mits and stockings. He also
had dogskin stockings and sealskin kamiks. In addition, there was a
complete outfit of underclothing and wind-clothes. All were served
alike; there was no priority at all. The skin clothing was the first
to be tackled, and here there was a good deal to be done, as nothing
had been made to measure. One man found that the hood of his anorak
came too far down over his eyes, another that it did not come down far
enough; so both had to set to work at alterations, one cutting off,
the other adding a piece. One found his trousers too long, another
too short, and they had to alter those. However, they managed it;
the needle was always at work, either for sewing a piece on, or for
hemming the shortened piece. Although we began this work in good time,
it looked as if we should never have finished. The room orderly had
to sweep out huge piles of strips and reindeer-hair every morning,
but the next morning there were just as many. If we had stayed there,
I am sure we should still be sitting and sewing away at our outfit.

A number of patents were invented. Of course, the everlasting mask for
the face was to the fore, and took the form of nose-protectors. I,
too, allowed myself to be beguiled into experimenting, with good
reason, as I thought, but with extremely poor results. I had hit upon
something which, of course, I thought much better than anything that
had been previously tried. The day I put on my invention, I not only
got my nose frozen, but my forehead and cheek as well. I never tried
it again. Hassel was great at new inventions; he wore nose-protectors
all over him. These patents are very good things for passing the time;
when one actually takes the field, they all vanish. They are useless
for serious work.

The sleeping-bags were also a great source of interest. Johansen
was at work on the double one he was so keen on. Heaven knows how
many skins he put into it! I don't, nor did I ever try to find
out. Bjaaland was also in full swing with alterations to his. He
found the opening at the top inconvenient, and preferred to have it
in the middle; his arrangement of a flap, with buttons and loops,
made it easy to mistake him for a colonel of dragoons when he was
in bed. He was tremendously pleased with it; but so he was with his
snow-goggles, in spite of the fact that he could not see with them,
and that they allowed him to become snow-blind. The rest of us kept
our sleeping-bags as they were, only lengthening or shortening them
as required. We were all greatly pleased with the device for closing
them -- on the plan of a sack. Outside our bags we had a cover of
very thin canvas; this was extremely useful, and I would not be
without it for anything. In the daytime the sleeping-bag was always
well protected by this cover; no snow could get in. At night it was
perhaps even more useful, as it protected the bag from the moisture
of the breath. Instead of condensing on the skin and making it wet,
this settled on the cover, forming in the course of the night a film
of ice, which disappeared again during the day, breaking off while the
bag ay stretched on the sledge. This cover ought to be of ample size;
it is important that it should be rather longer than the sleeping-bag,
so that one may have plenty of it round the neck, and thus prevent
the breath from penetrating into the bag. We all had double bags --
an inner and an outer one. The inner one was of calf-skin or thin
female reindeer-skin, and quite light; the outer one was of heavy
buck reindeer-skin, and weighed about 13 pounds. Both were open at
the end, like a sack, and were laced together round the neck. I have
always found this pattern the easiest, simplest, most comfortable,
and best. We recommend it to all.

Novelties in the way of snow-goggles were many. This was, of course, a
matter of the greatest importance and required study -- it was studied,
too! The particular problem was to find good goggles without glass. It
is true that I had worn nothing but a pair of ordinary spectacles,
with light yellow glasses, all the autumn, and that they had proved
excellent; but for the long journey I was afraid these would give
insufficient protection. I therefore threw myself into the competition
for the best patent. The end of it was that we all went in for leather
goggles, with a little slit for the eyes. The Bjaaland patent won the
prize, and was most adopted. Hassel had his own invention, combined
with a nose-protector; when spread out it reminded me of the American
eagle. I never saw him use it. Nor did any of us use these new goggles,
except Bjaaland. He used his own goggles the whole way, but then,
he was the only one who became snow-blind. The spectacles I wore --
Hanssen had the same; they were the only two pairs we had -- gave
perfect protection; not once did I have a sign of snow-blindness. They
were exactly like other spectacles, without any gauze at all round the
glasses; the light could penetrate everywhere. Dr. Schanz, of Dresden,
who sent me these glasses, has every right to be satisfied with his
invention; its beats anything I have ever tried or seen.

The next great question was our boots. I had expressly pointed out
that boots must be taken, whether the person concerned intended to
wear them or not; for boots were indispensable, in case of having
to cross any glacier, which was a contingency we had to reckon with,
from the descriptions we had read of the country. With this proviso
everyone might do as he pleased, and all began by improving their
boots in accordance with our previous experience. The improvement
consisted in making them larger. Wisting took mine in hand again,
and began once more to pull them to pieces. It is only by tearing a
thing to pieces that one can see what the work is like. We gained a
good insight into the way our boots had been made; stronger or more
conscientious work it would be impossible to find. It was hard work
pulling them to pieces. This time mine lost a couple more soles. How
many that made altogether I do not remember, but now I got what I had
always called for -- room enough. Besides being able to wear all the
foot-coverings I had, I could also find room for a wooden sole. That
made me happy; my great object was achieved. Now the temperature could
be as low as it liked; it would not get through the wooden soles and
my various stockings -- seven pairs, I think, in all. I was pleased
that evening, as the struggle had been a long one; it had taken me
nearly two years to arrive at this result.

And then there was the dog-harness, which we must all have in
order. The experience of the last depot journey, when two dogs fell
into a crevasse through faulty harness, must not be allowed to repeat
itself, We therefore devoted great care and attention to this gear,
and used all the best materials we had. The result rewarded our pains;
we had good, strong harness for every team.


This description will, perhaps, open the eyes of some people, and show
them that the equipment of an expedition such as we were about to enter
upon is not the affair of a day. It is not money alone that makes for
the success of such an expedition -- though, Heaven knows, it is a good
thing to have -- but it is in a great measure -- indeed, I may say
that this is the greatest factor -- the way in which the expedition
is equipped -- the way in which every difficulty is foreseen, and
precautions taken for meeting or avoiding it. Victory awaits him who
has everything in order -- luck, people call it. Defeat is certain for
him who has neglected to take the necessary precautions in time; this
is called bad luck. But pray do not think this is an epitaph I wish
to have inscribed on my own tomb. No; honour where honour is due --
honour to my faithful comrades, who, by their patience, perseverance
and experience, brought our equipment to the limit of perfection,
and thereby rendered our victory possible.


On August 16 we began to pack our sledges; two were placed in the
Crystal Palace and two in the Clothing Store. It was a great advantage
to be able to do this work under cover; at this time the temperature
was dancing a cancan between -58° and -75°F., with an occasional
refreshing breeze of thirteen or fourteen miles an hour. It would have
been almost an impossibility to pack the sledges out of doors under
these conditions if it was to be done carefully and firmly; and,
of course, it had to be so done. Our fixed wire-rope lashings had
to be laced together with lengths of thin rope, and this took time;
but when properly done, as it was now, the cases were held as though
in a vice, and could not move. The zinc plates we had had under the
sledges to keep them up in loose snow had been taken off; we could not
see that we should have any use for them. In their place we had lashed
a spare ski under each sledge, and these were very useful later. By
August 22 all the sledges were ready, waiting to be driven away.

The dogs did not like the cold weather we had now had for so long;
when the temperature went down between -58° and -75° F., one could
see by their movements that they felt it. They stood still and raised
their feet from the ground in turn, holding each foot up for a while
before putting it down again on the cold surface. They were cunning and
resourceful in the extreme. They did not care very much for fish, and
some of them were difficult to get into the tents on the evenings when
they knew there was fish. Stubberud, especially, had a great deal of
trouble with one of the young dogs -- Funcho was his name. He was born
at Madeira during our stay there in September, 1910. On meat evenings
each man, after fastening up his dogs, went, as has been described,
up to the wall of the meat-tent and took his box of chopped-up meat,
which was put out there. Funcho used to watch for this moment. When he
saw Stubberud take the box, he knew there was meat, and then he came
quietly into the tent, as though there was nothing the matter. If, on
the other hand, Stubberud showed no sign of fetching the box, the dog
would not come, nor was it possible to get hold of him. This happened
a few times, but then Stubberud hit upon a stratagem. When Funcho,
as usual -- even on a fish evening -- watched the scene of chaining up
the other dogs from a distance, Stubberud went calmly up to the wall,
took the empty box that lay there, put it on his shoulder, and returned
to the tent. Funcho was taken in. He hurried joyfully into the tent,
delighted, no doubt, with Stubberud's generosity in providing meat two
evenings running. But there, to his great surprise, a very different
reception awaited him from that he expected. He was seized by the neck
and made fast for the night. After an ugly scowl at the empty box,
he looked at Stubberud; what he thought, I am not sure. Certain it
is that the ruse was not often successful after that. Funcho got a
dried fish for supper, and had to be content with it.

We did not lose many dogs in the course of the winter. Two -- Jeppe
and Jakob -- died of some disease or other. Knægten was shot, as he
lost almost all his hair over half his body. Madeiro, born at Madeira,
disappeared early in the autumn; Tom disappeared later -- both these
undoubtedly fell into crevasses. We had a very good opportunity --
twice -- of seeing how this might happen; both times we saw the dog
disappear into the crevasse, and could watch him from the surface. He
went quite quietly backwards and forwards down below without uttering
a sound. These crevasses were not deep, but they were steep-sided,
so that the dog could not get out without help. The two dogs I have
mentioned undoubtedly met their death in this way: a slow death
it must be, when one remembers how tenacious of life a dog is. It
happened several times that dogs disappeared, were absent for some
days, and then came back; possibly they had been down a crevasse, and
had finally succeeded in getting out of it again. Curiously enough,
they did not pay much attention to the weather when they went on trips
of this kind. When the humour took them, they would disappear, even
if the temperature was down in the fifties below zero, with wind and
driving snow. Thus Jaala, a lady belonging to Bjaaland, took it into
her head to go off with three attendant cavaliers. We came upon them
later; they were then lying quietly behind a hummock down on the ice,
and seemed to be quite happy. They had been away for about eight days
without food, and during that time the temperature had seldom been
above -58° F.

August 23 arrived: calm, partly overcast, and -43.6°F. Finer weather
for taking out our sledges and driving them over to the starting-point
could not be imagined. They had to be brought up through the door
of the Clothing Store; it was the largest and the easiest to get
through. We had first to dig away the snow, which latterly had been
allowed to collect there, as the inmates of this department had
for some time past used the inner passage. The snow had blotted out
everything, so that no sign of the entrance could be seen; but with
a couple of strong shovels, and a couple of strong men to use them,
the opening was soon laid bare. To get the sledges up was a longer
business; they weighed 880 pounds apiece, and the way up to the surface
was steep. A tackle was rigged, and by hauling and shoving they slowly,
one by one, came up into daylight. We dragged them away to a place
near the instrument-screen, so as to get a clear start away from the
house. The dogs were fresh and wild, and wanted plenty of room; a case,
not to mention a post, still less the instrument-screen, would all
have been objects of extreme interest, to which, if there had been
the slightest opportunity, their course would infallibly have been
directed. The protests of their drivers would have been of little
avail. The dogs had not been let loose that morning, and every man
was now in his tent harnessing them. Meanwhile I stood contemplating
the packed sledges that stood there ready to begin the long journey.

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