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The South Pole, Volumes 1 and 2

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




Case No. 1 contains about 5,300 biscuits, and weighs 111 pounds.

Case No. 2: 112 rations of dogs' pemmican; 11 bags of dried milk,
chocolate, and biscuits. Total gross weight, 177 pounds.

Case No. 3: 124 rations of dogs' pemmican; 10 bags of dried milk and
biscuits. Gross weight, 161 pounds.

Case No. 4: 39 rations of dogs' pemmican; 86 rations of men's pemmican;
9 bags of dried milk and biscuits. Gross weight, 165 pounds.

Case No. 5: 96 rations of dogs' pemmican. Weight, 122 pounds.

Total net weight of provisions per sledge, 668 pounds.

With the outfit and the weight of the sledge itself, the total came
to pretty nearly 880 pounds.

Hanssen's sledge differed from the others, in that it had aluminium
fittings instead of steel and no sledge-meter, as it had to be free
from iron on account of the steering-compass he carried. Each of
the other three sledges had a sledge-meter and compass. We were thus
equipped with three sledge-meters and four compasses. The instruments
we carried were two sextants and three artificial horizons -- two
glass and one mercury -- a hypsometer for measuring heights, and one
aneroid. For meteorological observations, four thermometers. Also two
pairs of binoculars. We took a little travelling case of medicines
from Burroughs Wellcome and Co. Our surgical instruments were not
many: a dental forceps and -- a beard-clipper. Our sewing outfit
was extensive. We carried a small, very light tent in reserve; it
would have to be used if any of us were obliged to turn back. We also
carried two Primus lamps. Of paraffin we had a good supply: twenty-two
and a half gallons divided among three sledges. We kept it in the
usual cans, but they proved too weak; not that we lost any paraffin,
but Bjaaland had to be constantly soldering to keep them tight. We
had a good soldering outfit. Every man carried his own personal bag,
in which he kept reserve clothing, diaries and observation books. We
took a quantity of loose straps for spare ski-bindings. We had double
sleeping-bags for the first part of the time; that is to say, an
inner and an outer one. There were five watches among us, of which
three were chronometer watches.

We had decided to cover the distance between 80° and 82° S. in daily
marches of seventeen miles. We could easily have done twice this,
but as it was more important to arrive than to show great speed,
we limited the distance; besides which, here between the depots we
had sufficient food to allow us to take our time. We were interested
in seeing how the dogs would manage the loaded sledges. We expected
them to do well, but not so well as they did.

On October 25 we left 80° S. with a light north-westerly breeze,
clear and mild. I was now to take up my position in advance of
the sledges, and placed myself a few paces in front of Hanssen's,
with my ski pointing in the right direction. A last look behind me:
"All ready?" and away I went. I thought -- no; I didn't have time
to think. Before I knew anything about it, I was sent flying by the
dogs. In the confusion that ensued they stopped, luckily, so that
I escaped without damage, as far as that went. To tell the truth,
I was angry, but as I had sense enough to see that the situation,
already sufficiently comic, would be doubly ridiculous if I allowed
my annoyance to show itself, I wisely kept quiet. And, after all,
whose fault was it? I was really the only one to blame; why in the
world had I not got away faster? I now changed my plan entirely --
there is nothing to be ashamed of in that, I hope -- and fell in with
the awkward squad; there I was more successful. "All ready? Go!" And
go they did. First Hanssen went off like a meteor; close behind him
came Wisting, and then Bjaaland and Hassel. They all had ski on, and
were driving with a line. I had made up my mind to follow in the rear,
as I thought the dogs would not keep this up for long, but I soon had
enough of it. We did the first six and a quarter miles in an hour. I
thought that would do for me, so I went up to Wisting, made a rope
fast to his sledge, and there I stood till we reached 85° 5' S. --
three hundred and forty miles. Yes; that was a pleasant surprise. We
had never dreamed of anything of the sort -- driving on ski to the
Pole! Thanks to Hanssen's brilliant talents as a dog-driver, we could
easily do this. He had his dogs well in hand, and they knew their
master. They knew that the moment they failed to do their duty they
would be pulled up, and a hiding all round would follow. Of course,
as always happens, Nature occasionally got the better of discipline;
but the "confirmation" that resulted checked any repetition of such
conduct for a long while. The day's march was soon completed in this
way, and we camped early.

On the following day we were already in sight of the large
pressure-ridges on the east, which we had seen for the first time
on the second depot journey between 81° and 82° S., and this showed
that the atmosphere must be very clear. We could not see any greater
number than the first time, however. From our experience of beacons
built of snow, we could see that if we built such beacons now, on
our way south, they would be splendid marks for our return journey;
we therefore decided to adopt this system of landmarks to the greatest
possible extent. We built in all 150 beacons, 6 feet high, and used in
their construction 9,000 blocks, cut out of the snow with specially
large snow-knives. In each of them was deposited a paper, giving the
number and position of the beacon, and indicating the distance and
the direction to be taken to reach the next beacon to the north. It
may appear that my prudence was exaggerated, but it always seemed
to me that one could not be too careful on this endless, uniform
surface. If we lost our way here, it would be difficult enough to
reach home. Besides which, the building of these beacons had other
advantages, which we could all see and appreciate. Every time we
stopped to build one, the dogs had a rest, and they wanted this,
if they were to keep up the pace.

We erected the first beacon in 80° 23' S. To begin with, we contented
ourselves with putting them up at every thirteenth or fifteenth
kilometre. On the 29th we shot the first dog, Hanssen's Bone. He was
too old to keep up, and was only a hindrance. He was placed in depot
under a beacon, and was a great joy to us -- or rather to the dogs --
later on.

On the same day we reached the second important point -- the depot
in 81° S. Our course took us very slightly to the east of it. The
small pieces of packing-case that had been used as marks on each
side of the depot could be seen a long way off. On a subsequent
examination they showed no sign of snowfall; they stood just as
they had been put in. In the neighbourhood of the depot we crossed
two quite respectable crevasses; they were apparently filled up, and
caused us no trouble. We reached the depot at 2 p.m.; everything was
in the best of order. The flag was flying, and hardly looked as if it
had been up a day, although it had now been waving there for nearly
eight months. The drifts round the depot were about 1 1/2 feet high.

The next day was brilliant -- calm and clear. The sun really baked the
skin of one's face. We put all our skin clothing out to dry; a little
rime will always form at the bottom of a sleeping-bag. We also availed
ourselves of this good opportunity to determine our position and check
our compasses; they proved to be correct. We replaced the provisions
we had consumed on the way, and resumed our journey on October 31.

There was a thick fog next morning, and very disagreeable weather;
perhaps we felt it more after the previous fine day. When we passed
this way for the first time going south, Hanssen's dogs had fallen
into a crevasse, but it was nothing to speak of; otherwise we had
no trouble. Nor did we expect any this time; but in these regions
what one least expects frequently happens. The snow was loose and the
going heavy; from time to time we crossed a narrow crevasse. Once we
saw through the fog a large open hole; we could not have been very far
from it, or we should not have seen it, the weather was so thick. But
all went well till we had come thirteen and a half miles. Then Hanssen
had to cross a crevasse a yard wide, and in doing it he was unlucky
enough to catch the point of his ski in the traces of the hindmost
dogs, and fall right across the crevasse. This looked unpleasant. The
dogs were across, and a foot or two on the other side, but the sledge
was right over the crevasse, and had twisted as Hanssen fell, so that
a little more would bring it into line with the crevasse, and then,
of course, down it would go. The dogs had quickly scented the fact that
their lord and master was for the moment incapable of administering a
"confirmation," and they did not let slip the golden opportunity. Like
a lot of roaring tigers, the whole team set upon each other and fought
till the hair flew. This naturally produced short, sharp jerks at the
traces, so that the sledge worked round more and more, and at the same
time the dogs, in the heat of the combat, were coming nearer and nearer
to the brink. If this went on, all was irretrievably lost. One of us
jumped the crevasse, went into the middle of the struggling team, and,
fortunately, got them to stop. At the same time, Wisting threw a line
to Hanssen and hauled him out of his unpleasant position -- although,
I thought to myself, as we went on: I wonder whether Hanssen did not
enjoy the situation? Stretched across a giddy abyss, with the prospect
of slipping down it at any moment -- that was just what he would
like. We secured the sledge, completed our seventeen miles, and camped.

From 81° S. we began to erect beacons at every nine kilometres. The
next day we observed the lowest temperature of the whole of this
journey: -30.1° F The wind was south-south-east, but not very
strong. It did not feel like summer, all the same. We now adopted the
habit which we kept up all the way to the south -- of taking our lunch
while building the beacon that lay half-way in our day's march. It
was nothing very luxurious -- three or four dry oatmeal biscuits, that
was all. If one wanted a drink, one could mix snow with the biscuit --
"bread and water." It is a diet that is not much sought after in our
native latitudes, but latitude makes a very great difference in this
world. It anybody had offered us more "bread and water," we should
gladly have accepted it.

That day we crossed the last crevasse for a long time to come, and
it was only a few inches wide. The surface looked grand ahead of us;
it went in very long, almost imperceptible undulations. We could
only notice them by the way in which the beacons we put up often
disappeared rather rapidly.

On November 2 we had a gale from the south, with heavy snow. The
going was very stiff, but the dogs got the sledges along better than
we expected. The temperature rose, as usual, with a wind from this
quarter: +14° F. It was a pleasure to be out in such a temperature,
although it did blow a little. The day after we had a light breeze
from the north. The heavy going of the day before had completely
disappeared; instead of it we had the best surface one could desire,
and it made our dogs break into a brisk gallop. That was the day we
were to reach the depot in 82° S., but as it was extremely thick,
our chances of doing so were small. In the course of the afternoon
the distance was accomplished, but no depot was visible. However,
our range of vision was nothing to boast of -- ten sledge-lengths;
not more. The most sensible thing to do, under the circumstances,
was to camp and wait till it cleared.

At four o'clock next morning the sun broke through. We let it get
warm and disperse the fog, and then went out. What a morning it
was -- radiantly clear and mild. So still, so still lay the mighty
desert before us, level and white on every side. But, no; there
in the distance the level was broken: there was a touch of colour
on the white. The third important point was reached, the extreme
outpost of civilization. Our last depot lay before us; that was an
unspeakable relief. The victory now seemed half won. In the fog we
had come about three and a half miles too far to the west; but we now
saw that if we had continued our march the day before, we should have
come right into our line of flags. There they stood, flag after flag,
and the little strip of black cloth seemed to wave quite proudly,
as though it claimed credit for the way in which it had discharged
its duty. Here, as at the depot in 81° S., there was hardly a sign
of snowfall. The drift round the depot had reached the same height
as there -- 1 1/2 feet. Clearly the same conditions of weather had
prevailed all over this region. The depot stood as we had made it,
and the sledge as we had left it. Falling snow and drift had not been
sufficient to cover even this. The little drift that there was offered
an excellent place for the tent, being hard and firm. We at once set
about the work that had to be done. First, Uranus was sent into the
next world, and although he had always given us the impression of
being thin and bony, it was now seen that there were masses of fat
along his back; he would be much appreciated when we reached here on
the return. Jaala did not look as if she would fulfil the conditions,
but we gave her another night. The dogs' pemmican in the depot was just
enough to give the dogs a good feed and load up the sledges again. We
were so well supplied with all other provisions that we were able to
leave a considerable quantity behind for the return journey.

Next day we stayed here to give the dogs a thorough rest for the last
time. We took advantage of the fine weather to dry our outfit and
check our instruments. When evening came we were all ready, and now
we could look back with satisfaction to the good work of the autumn;
we had fully accomplished what we aimed at -- namely, transferring our
base from 78° 38' to 82° S. Jaala had to follow Uranus; they were both
laid on the top of the depot, beside eight little ones that never saw
the light of day. During our stay here we decided to build beacons
at every fifth kilometre, and to lay down depots at every degree of
latitude. Although the dogs were drawing the sledges easily at present,
we knew well enough that in the long-run they would find it hard work
if they were always to have heavy weights to pull. The more we could
get rid of, and the sooner we could begin to do so, the better.

On November 6, at 8 a.m., we left 82° S. Now the unknown lay before
us; now our work began in earnest. The appearance of the Barrier was
the same everywhere -- flat, with a splendid surface. At the first
beacon we put up we had to shoot Lucy. We were sorry to put an end to
this beautiful creature, but there was nothing else to be done. Her
friends -- Karenius, Sauen, and Schwartz -- scowled up at the beacon
where she lay as they passed, but duty called, and the whip sang
dangerously near them, though they did not seem to hear it. We had
now extended our daily march to twenty-three miles; in this way we
should do a degree in three days.

On the 7th we decided to stop for a day's rest. The dogs had been
picking up wonderfully every day, and were now at the top of their
condition, as far as health and training went. With the greatest ease
they covered the day's march at a pace of seven and a half kilometres
(four miles and two-thirds) an hour. As for ourselves, we never had to
move a foot; all we had to do was to let ourselves be towed. The same
evening we had to put an end to the last of our ladies -- Else. She
was Hassel's pride and the ornament of his team; but there was no
help for it. She was also placed at the top of a beacon.

When we halted that evening in 82° 20' S., we saw on the south-western
horizon several heavy masses of drab-coloured cloud, such as are
usually to be seen over land. We could make out no land that evening,
however; but when we came out next morning and directed our glasses
to that quarter, the land lay there, lofty and clear in the morning
sun. We were now able to distinguish several summits, and to determine
that this was the land extending south-eastward from Beardmore Glacier
in South Victoria Land. Our course had been true south all the time; at
this spot we were about 250 miles to the east of Beardmore Glacier. Our
course would continue to be true south.

The same evening -- November 8 -- we reached 83° S. by dead
reckoning. The noon altitude next day gave 83° 1' S. The depot we
built here contained provisions for five men and twelve dogs for
four days; it was made square -- 6 feet each way -- of hard, solid
blocks of snow. A large flag was placed on the top. That evening a
strange thing happened -- three dogs deserted, going northward on
our old tracks. They were Lucy's favourites, and had probably taken
it into their heads that they ought to go back and look after their
friend. It was a great loss to us all, but especially to Bjaaland;
they were all three first-rate animals, and among the best we had. He
had to borrow a dog from Hanssen's team, and if he did not go quite
so smoothly as before, he was still able to keep up.

On the 10th we got a bearing of the mountain chain right down in
south by west true. Each day we drew considerably nearer the land,
and could see more and more of its details: mighty peaks, each loftier
and wilder than the last, rose to heights of 15,000 feet. What struck
us all were the bare sides that many of these mountains showed; we had
expected to see them far more covered with snow. Mount Fridtjof Nansen,
for example, had quite a blue-black look. Only quite at the summit was
it crowned by a mighty hood of ice that raised its shining top to some
15,000 feet. Farther to the south rose Mount Don Pedro Christophersen;
it was more covered with snow, but the long, gabled summit was to a
great extent bare. Still farther south Mounts Alice Wedel Jarlsberg,
Alice Gade, and Ruth Gade, came in sight; all snow-clad from peak
to base. I do not think I have ever seen a more beautiful or wilder
landscape. Even from where we were, we seemed to be able to see a
way up from several places. There lay Liv's Glacier,[1] for instance,
which would undoubtedly afford a good and even ascent, but it lay too
far to the north. It is of enormous extent, and would prove interesting
to explore. Crown Prince Olav's Mountains looked less promising, but
they also lay too far to the north. A little to the west of south lay
an apparently good way up. The mountains nearest to the Barrier did not
seem to offer any great obstruction. What one might find later, between
Mounts Pedro Christophersen and Fridtjof Nansen, was not easy to say.

On the 12th we reached 84° S. On that day we made the interesting
discovery of a chain of mountains running to the east; this, as it
appeared from the spot where we were, formed a semicircle, where it
joined the mountains of South Victoria Land. This semicircle lay true
south, and our course was directed straight towards it.

In the depot in 84° S. we left, besides the usual quantity of
provisions for five men and twelve dogs for four days, a can of
paraffin, holding 17 litres (about 34 gallons). We had abundance of
matches, and could therefore distribute them over all the depots. The
Barrier continued as flat as before, and the going was as good as it
could possibly be. We had thought that a day's rest would be needed by
the dogs for every degree of latitude, but this proved superfluous;
it looked as if they could no longer be tired. One or two had shown
signs of bad feet, but were now perfectly well; instead of losing
strength, the dogs seemed to become stronger and more active every
day. Now they, too, had sighted the land, and the black mass of Mount
Fridtjof Nansen seemed specially to appeal to them; Hanssen often had
hard work to keep them in the right course. Without any longer stay,
then, we left 84° S. the next day, and steered for the bay ahead.

That day we went twenty-three miles in thick fog, and saw nothing
of the land. It was hard to have to travel thus blindly off an
unknown coast, but we could only hope for better weather. During the
previous night we had heard, for a change, a noise in the ice. It was
nothing very great, and sounded like scattered infantry fire -- a few
rifle-shots here and there underneath our tent; the artillery had not
come up yet. We took no notice of it, though I heard one man say in
the morning: "Blest if I didn't think I got a whack on the ear last
night." I could witness that it had not cost him his sleep, as that
night he had very nearly snored us all out of the tent. During the
forenoon we crossed a number of apparently newly-formed crevasses;
most of them only about an inch wide. There had thus been a small
local disturbance occasioned by one of the numerous small glaciers
on land. On the following night all was quiet again, and we never
afterwards heard the slightest sound.

On November 14 we reached 84° 40' S. We were now rapidly
approaching land; the mountain range on the east appeared to turn
north-eastward. Our line of ascent, which we had chosen long ago
and now had our eyes fixed upon as we went, would take us a trifle
to the west of south, but so little that the digression was of no
account. The semicircle we saw to the south made a more disquieting
impression, and looked as if it would offer great irregularities. On
the following day the character of the surface began to change;
great wave-like formations seemed to roll higher and higher as they
approached the land, and in one of the troughs of these we found
the surface greatly disturbed. At some bygone time immense fissures
and chasms would have rendered its passage practically impossible,
but now they were all drifted up, and we had no difficulty in crossing.

That day -- November 15 -- we reached 85° S., and camped at the top of
one of these swelling waves. The valley we were to cross next day was
fairly broad, and rose considerably on the other side. On the west,
in the direction of the nearest land, the undulation rose to such
a height that it concealed a great part of the land from us. During
the afternoon we built the usual depot, and continued our journey on
the following day. As we had seen from our camping-ground, it was
an immense undulation that we had to traverse; the ascent on the
other side felt uncomfortably warm in the powerful sun, but it was
no higher than 300 feet by the aneroid. From the top of this wave
the Barrier stretched away before us, flat at first, but we could see
disturbances of the surface in the distance. Now we are going to have
some fun in getting to land, I thought, for it seemed very natural that
the Barrier, hemmed in as it was here, would be much broken up. The
disturbances we had seen consisted of some big, old crevasses, which
were partly filled up; we avoided them easily. Now there was another
deep depression before us; with a correspondingly high rise on the
other side. We went over it capitally; the surface was absolutely
smooth, without a sign of fissure or hole anywhere. Then we shall
get them when we are on the top, I thought. It was rather stiff work
uphill, unaccustomed as we were to slopes. I stretched my neck more
and more to get a view. At last we were up; and what a sight it was
that met us! Not an irregularity, not a sign of disturbance; quietly
and evenly the ascent continued. I believe that we were then already
above land; the large crevasses that we had avoided down below probably
formed the boundary. The hypsometer gave 930 feet above the sea.

We were now immediately below the ascent, and made the final decision
of trying it here. This being settled, we pitched our camp. It was
still early in the day, but we had a great deal to arrange before the
morrow. Here we should have to overhaul our whole supply of provisions,
take with us what was absolutely necessary for the remainder of the
trip, and leave the rest behind in depot. First, then, we camped,
worked out our position, fed the dogs and let them loose again, and
then went into our tent to have something to eat and go through the
provision books.

We had now reached one of the most critical points of our journey. Our
plan had now to be laid so that we might not only make the ascent as
easily as possible, but also get through to the end. Our calculations
had to be made carefully, and every possibility taken into account. As
with every decision of importance, we discussed the matter jointly. The
distance we had before us, from this spot to the Pole and back, was
683 miles. Reckoning with the ascent that we saw before us, with other
unforeseen obstructions, and finally with the certain factor that
the strength of our dogs would be gradually reduced to a fraction of
what it now was, we decided to take provisions and equipment for sixty
days on the sledges, and to leave the remaining supplies -- enough for
thirty days -- and outfit in depot. We calculated, from the experience
we had had, that we ought to be able to reach this point again with
twelve dogs left. We now had forty-two dogs. Our plan was to take
all the forty-two up to the plateau; there twenty-four of them were
to be slaughtered, and the journey continued with three sledges and
eighteen dogs. Of these last eighteen, it would be necessary, in our
opinion, to slaughter six in order to bring the other twelve back to
this point. As the number of dogs grew less, the sledges would become
lighter and lighter, and when the time came for reducing their number
to twelve, we should only have two sledges left. This time again our
calculations came out approximately right; it was only in reckoning
the number of days that we made a little mistake -- we took eight
days less than the time allowed. The number of dogs agreed exactly;
we reached this point again with twelve.

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