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The South Pole, Volumes 1 and 2

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After the question had been well discussed and each had given his
opinion, we went out to get the repacking done. It was lucky the
weather was so fine, otherwise this taking stock of provisions might
have been a bitter piece of work. All our supplies were in such a
form that we could count them instead of weighing them. Our pemmican
was in rations of 2 kilogram (1 pound 12 ounces). The chocolate was
divided into small pieces, as chocolate always is, so that we knew what
each piece weighed. Our milk-powder was put up in bags of 102 ounces
just enough for a meal. Our biscuits possessed the same property --
they could be counted, but this was a tedious business, as they were
rather small. On this occasion we had to count 6,000 biscuits. Our
provisions consisted only of these four kinds, and the combination
turned out right enough. We did not suffer from a craving either for
fat or sugar, though the want of these substances is very commonly
felt on such journeys as ours. In our biscuits we had an excellent
product, consisting of oatmeal, sugar, and dried milk. Sweetmeats,
jam, fruit, cheese, etc., we had left behind at Framheim.

We took our reindeer-skin clothing, for which we had had no use as yet,
on the sledges. We were now coming on to the high ground, and it might
easily happen that it would be a good thing to have. We did not forget
the temperature of -40° F. that Shackleton had experienced in 88° S.,
and if we met with the same, we could hold out a long while if we had
the skin clothing. Otherwise, we had not very much in our bags. The
only change we had with us was put on here, and the old clothes hung
out to air. We reckoned that by the time we came back, in a couple
of months, they would be sufficiently aired, and we could put them
on again. As far as I remember, the calculation proved correct. We
took more foot-gear than anything else: if one's feet are well shod,
one can hold out a long time.

When all this was finished, three of us put on our ski and made
for the nearest visible land. This was a little peak, a mile and
three-quarters away -- Mount Betty. It did not look lofty or imposing,
but was, nevertheless, 1,000 feet above the sea. Small as it was,
it became important to us, as it was there we got all our geological
specimens. Running on ski felt quite strange, although I had now
covered 385 miles on them; but we had driven the whole way, and were
somewhat out of training. We could feel this, too, as we went up
the slope that afternoon. After Mount Betty the ascent became rather
steep, but the surface was even, and the going splendid, so we got on
fast. First we came up a smooth mountain-side, about 1,200 feet above
the sea, then over a little plateau; after that another smooth slope
like the first, and then down a rather long, flat stretch, which
after a time began to rise very gradually, until it finally passed
into small glacier formations. Our reconnaissance extended to these
small glaciers. We had ascertained that the way was practicable,
as far as we were able to see; we had gone about five and a half
miles from the tent, and ascended 2,000 feet. On the way back we went
gloriously; the last two slopes down to the Barrier gave us all the
speed we wanted. Bjaaland and I had decided to take a turn round by
Mount Betty for the sake of having real bare ground under our feet;
we had not felt it since Madeira in September, 1910, and now we were
in November, 1911. No sooner said than done. Bjaaland prepared for
an elegant "Telemark swing," and executed it in fine style. What I
prepared to do, I am still not quite sure. What I did was to roll over,
and I did it with great effect. I was very soon on my feet again,
and glanced at Bjaaland; whether he had seen my tumble, I am not
certain. However, I pulled myself together after this unfortunate
performance, and remarked casually that it is not so easy to forget
what one has once learnt. No doubt he thought that I had managed the
"Telemark swing"; at any rate, he was polite enough to let me think so.

Mount Betty offered no perpendicular crags or deep precipices to
stimulate our desire for climbing; we only had to take off our ski,
and then we arrived at the top. It consisted of loose screes, and
was not an ideal promenade for people who had to be careful of their
boots. It was a pleasure to set one's foot on bare ground again,
and we sat down on the rocks to enjoy the scene. The rocks very soon
made themselves felt, however, and brought us to our feet again. We
photographed each other in "picturesque attitudes," took a few stones
for those who had not yet set foot on bare earth, and strapped on our
ski. The dogs, after having been so eager to make for bare land when
they first saw it, were now not the least interested in it; they lay on
the snow, and did not go near the top. Between the bare ground and the
snow surface there was bright, blue-green ice, showing that at times
there was running water here. The dogs did what they could to keep
up with us on the way down, but they were soon left behind. On our
return, we surprised our comrades with presents from the country, but
I fear they were not greatly appreciated. I could hear such words as,
"Norway-stones -- heaps of them," and I was able to put them together
and understand what was meant. The "presents" were put in depot,
as not absolutely indispensable on the southern journey.

By this time the dogs had already begun to be very
voracious. Everything that came in their way disappeared; whips,
ski-bindings, lashings, etc., were regarded as delicacies. If one
put down anything for a moment, it vanished. With some of them this
voracity went so far that we had to chain them.



CHAPTER XI

Through the Mountains

On the following day -- November 17 -- we began the ascent. To provide
for any contingency, I left in the depot a paper with information of
the way we intended to take through the mountains, together with our
plan for the future, our outfit, provisions, etc. The weather was fine,
as usual, and the going good. The dogs exceeded our expectations;
they negotiated the two fairly steep slopes at a jog-trot. We began
to think there was no difficulty they could not surmount; the five
miles or so that we had gone the day before, and imagined would be
more than enough for this day's journey, were now covered with full
loads in shorter time. The small glaciers higher up turned out fairly
steep, and in some places we had to take two sledges at a time with
double teams. These glaciers had an appearance of being very old,
and of having entirely ceased to move. There were no new crevasses to
be seen; those that there were, were large and wide, but their edges
were rounded off everywhere, and the crevasses themselves were almost
entirely filled with snow. So as not to fall into these on the return,
we erected our beacons in such a way that the line between any two
of them would take us clear of any danger. It was no use working in
Polar clothing among these hills; the sun, which stood high and clear,
was uncomfortably warm, and we were obliged to take off most of our
things. We passed several summits from 3,000 to 7,000 feet high;
the snow on one of them had quite a reddish-brown tint.

Our distance this first day was eleven and a half miles, with a rise of
2,000 feet. Our camp that evening lay on a little glacier among huge
crevasses; on three sides of us were towering summits. When we had
set our tent, two parties went out to explore the way in advance. One
party -- Wisting and Hanssen -- took the way that looked easiest from
the tent -- namely, the course of the glacier; it here rose rapidly
to 4,000 feet, and disappeared in a south-westerly direction between
two peaks. Bjaaland formed the other party. He evidently looked upon
this ascent as too tame, and started up the steepest part of the
mountain -- side. I saw him disappear up aloft like a fly. Hassel
and I attended to the necessary work round about and in the tent.

We were sitting inside chatting, when we suddenly heard someone come
swishing down towards the tent. We looked at each other; that fellow
had some pace on. We had no doubt as to who it was -- Bjaaland, of
course. He must have gone off to refresh old memories. He had a lot
to tell us; amongst other things, he had found "the finest descent"
on the other side. What he meant by "fine" I was not certain. If it
was as fine as the ascent he had made, then I asked to be excused. We
now heard the others coming, and these we could hear a long way
off. They had also seen a great deal, not to mention "the finest
descent." But both parties agreed in the mournful intelligence that
we should have to go down again. They had both observed the immense
glacier that stretched beneath us running east and west. A lengthy
discussion took place between the two parties, who mutually scorned
each other's "discoveries." "Yes; but look here, Bjaaland, we could
see that from where you were standing there's a sheer drop -- " --
"You couldn't see me at all. I tell you I was to the west of the peak
that lies to the south of the peak that" I gave up trying to follow
the discussion any longer. The way in which the different parties had
disappeared and come in sight again gave me every reason to decide
in favour of the route the last arrivals had taken. I thanked these
keen gentlemen for their strenuous ramble in the interests of the
expedition, and went straight off to sleep. I dreamed of mountains
and precipices all night, and woke up with Bjaaland whizzing down
from the sky. I announced once more that I had made up my mind for
the other course, and went to sleep again.

We debated next morning whether it would not be better to take the
sledges two by two to begin with; the glacier before us looked quite
steep enough to require double teams. It had a rise of 2,000 feet
in quite a short distance. But we would try first with the single
teams. The dogs had shown that their capabilities were far above
our expectation; perhaps they would be able to do even this. We
crept off: The ascent began at once -- good exercise after a quart
of chocolate. We did not get on fast, but we won our way. It often
looked as if the sledge would stop, but a shout from the driver and
a sharp crack of the whip kept the dogs on the move. It was a fine
beginning to the day, and we gave them a well-deserved rest when we
got up. We then drove in through the narrow pass and out on the other
side. It was a magnificent panorama that opened before us. From the
pass we had come out on to a very small flat terrace, which a few
yards farther on began to drop steeply to a long valley. Round about
us lay summit after summit on every side. We had now come behind the
scenes, and could get our bearings better. We now saw the southern
side of the immense Mount Nansen; Don Pedro Christophersen we could
see in his full length. Between these two mountains we could follow
the course of a glacier that rose in terraces along their sides. It
looked fearfully broken and disturbed, but we could follow a little
connected line among the many crevasses; we saw that we could go a
long way, but we also saw that the glacier forbade us to use it in
its full extent. Between the first and second terraces the ice was
evidently impassable. But we could see that there was an unbroken
ledge up on the side of the mountain; Don Pedro would help us out. On
the north along the Nansen Mountain there was nothing but chaos,
perfectly impossible to get through. We put up a big beacon where we
were standing, and took bearings from it all round the compass.

I went back to the pass to look out over the Barrier for the
last time. The new mountain chain lay there sharp and clear; we
could see how it turned from the east up to east-north-east, and
finally disappeared in the north-east -- as we judged, about 84°
S. From the look of the sky, it appeared that the chain was continued
farther. According to the aneroid, the height of the terrace on which
we stood was 4,000 feet above the sea. From here there was only one
way down, and we began to go. In making these descents with loaded
sledges, one has to use the greatest care, lest the speed increase
to such a degree that one loses command over the sledge. If this
happens, there is a danger, not only of running over the dogs, but of
colliding with the sledge in front and smashing it. This was all the
more important in our case, as the sledges carried sledge-meters. We
therefore put brakes of rope under our runners when we were to go
downhill. This was done very simply by taking a few turns with a thin
piece of rope round each runner; the more of these turns one took,
the more powerful, of course, was the brake. The art consisted in
choosing the right number of turns, or the right brake; this was not
always attained, and the consequence was that, before we had come
to the end of these descents, there were several collisions. One
of the drivers, in particular, seemed to have a supreme contempt
for a proper brake; he would rush down like a flash of lightning,
and carry the man in front with him. With practice we avoided this,
but several times things had an ugly look.

The first drop took us down 800 feet; then we had to cross a wide,
stiff piece of valley before the ascent began again. The snow between
the mountains was loose and deep, and gave the dogs hard work. The next
ascent was up very steep glaciers, the last of which was the steepest
bit of climbing we had on the whole journey -- stiff work even for
double teams. Going in front of the dogs up these slopes was, I could
see, a business that Bjaaland would accomplish far more satisfactorily
than I, and I gave up the place to him. The first glacier was steep,
but the second was like the side of a house. It was a pleasure to watch
Bjaaland use his ski up there; one could see that he had been up a hill
before. Nor was it less interesting to see the dogs and the drivers go
up. Hanssen drove one sledge alone; Wisting and Hassel the other. They
went by jerks, foot by foot, and ended by reaching the top. The second
relay went somewhat more easily in the tracks made by the first.

Our height here was 4,550 feet, the last ascent having brought us
up 1,250 feet; we had arrived on a plateau, and after the dogs had
rested we continued our march. Now, as we advanced, we had a better
view of the way we were going; before this the nearest mountains had
shut us in. The mighty glacier opened out before us, stretching, as we
could now see, right up from the Barrier between the lofty mountains
running east and west. It was by this glacier that we should have to
gain the plateau; we could see that. We had one more descent to make
before reaching it, and from above we could distinguish the edges
of some big gaps in this descent, and found it prudent to examine it
first. As we thought, there was a side-glacier coming down into it,
with large, ugly crevasses in many places; but it was not so bad as
to prevent our finally reaching, with caution and using good brakes,
the great main ice-field -- Axel Heiberg Glacier. The plan we had
proposed to ourselves was to work our way up to the place where the
glacier rose in abrupt masses between the two mountains. The task
we had undertaken was greater than we thought. In the first place,
the distance was three times as great as any of us had believed;
and, in the second place, the snow was so loose and deep that it was
hard work for the dogs after all their previous efforts. We set our
course along the white line that we had been able to follow among
the numerous crevasses right up to the first terrace. Here tributary
glaciers came down on all sides from the mountains and joined the main
one; it was one of these many small arms that we reached that evening,
directly under Don Pedro Christophersen.

The mountain below which we had our camp was covered with a chaos of
immense blocks of ice. The glacier on which we were was much broken
up, but, as with all the others, the fissures were of old date, and,
to a large extent, drifted up. The snow was so loose that we had to
trample a place for the tent, and we could push the tent-pole right
down without meeting resistance; probably it would be better higher
up. In the evening Hanssen and Bjaaland went out to reconnoitre, and
found the conditions as we had seen them from a distance. The way up
to the first terrace was easily accessible; what the conditions would
be like between this and the second terrace we had still to discover.

It was stiff work next day getting up to the first terrace. The arm
of the glacier that led up was not very long, but extremely steep
and full of big crevasses; it had to be taken in relays, two sledges
at a time. The state of the going was, fortunately, better than on
the previous day, and the surface of the glacier was fine and hard,
so that the dogs got a splendid hold. Bjaaland went in advance up
through this steep glacier, and had his work cut out to keep ahead of
the eager animals. One would never have thought we were between 85°
and 86° S.; the heat was positively disagreeable, and, although lightly
clad, we sweated as if we were running races in the tropics. We were
ascending rapidly, but, in spite of the sudden change of pressure,
we did not yet experience any difficulty of breathing, headache,
or other unpleasant results. That these sensations would make their
appearance in due course was, however, a matter of which we could
be certain. Shackleton's description of his march on the plateau,
when headache of the most violent and unpleasant kind was the order
of the day, was fresh in the memory of all of us.

In a comparatively short time we reached the ledge in the glacier
that we had noticed a long way off; it was not quite flat, but sloped
slightly towards the edge. When we came to the place to which Hanssen
and Bjaaland had carried their reconnaissance on the previous evening,
we had a very fine prospect of the further course of the glacier. To
continue along it was an impossibility; it consisted here -- between
the two vast mountains -- of nothing but crevasse after crevasse,
so huge and ugly that we were forced to conclude that our further
advance that way was barred. Over by Fridtjof Nansen we could not
go; this mountain here rose perpendicularly, in parts quite bare,
and formed with the glacier a surface so wild and cut up that
all thoughts of crossing the ice-field in that direction had to be
instantly abandoned. Our only chance lay in the direction of Don Pedro
Christophersen; here, so far as we could see, the connection of the
glacier and the land offered possibilities of further progress. Without
interruption the glacier was merged in the snow-clad mountain-side,
which rose rapidly towards the partially bare summit. Our view,
however, did not extend very far. The first part of the mountain-side
was soon bounded by a lofty ridge running east and west, in which
we could see huge gaps here and there. From the place where we were
standing, we had the impression that we should be able to continue our
course up there under the ridge between these gaps, and thus come out
beyond the disturbed tract of glacier. We might possibly succeed in
this, but we could not be certain until we were up on the ridge itself.

We took a little rest -- it was not a long one -- and then started. We
were impatient to see whether we could get forward up above. There
could be no question of reaching the height without double teams;
first we had to get Hanssen's and Wisting's sledges up, and then
the two others. We were not particularly keen on thus covering the
ground twice, but the conditions made it imperative. We should have
been pleased just then if we had known that this was to be the last
ascent that would require double teams; but we did not know this,
and it was more than any of us dared to hope. The same hard work, and
the same trouble to keep the dogs at an even pace, and then we were
up under the ridge amongst the open chasms. To go farther without a
careful examination of the ground was not to be thought of. Doubtless,
our day's march had not been a particularly long one, but the piece
we had covered had indeed been fatiguing enough. We therefore camped,
and set our tent at an altitude of 5,650 feet above the sea.

We at once proceeded to reconnoitre, and the first thing to be
examined was the way we had seen from below. This led in the right
direction -- that is, in the direction of the glacier, east and west
-- and was thus the shortest. But it is not always the shortest way
that is the best; here, in any case, it was to be hoped that another
and longer one would offer better conditions. The shortest way was
awful -- possibly not altogether impracticable, if no better was to
be found. First we had to work our way across a hard, smooth slope,
which formed an angle of 45 degrees, and ended in a huge, bottomless
chasm. It was no great pleasure to cross over here on ski, but with
heavily-laden sledges the enjoyment would be still less. The prospect
of seeing sledge, driver, and dogs slide down sideways and disappear
into the abyss was a great one. We got across with whole skins on
ski, and continued our exploration. The mountain-side along which
we were advancing gradually narrowed between vast fissures above and
vaster fissures below, and finally passed by a very narrow bridge --
hardly broader than the sledges -- into the glacier. On each side of
the bridge, one looked down into a deep blue chasm. To cross here did
not look very inviting; no doubt we could take the dogs out and haul
the sledges over, and thus manage it -- presuming the bridge held --
but our further progress, which would have to be made on the glacier,
would apparently offer many surprises of an unpleasant kind. It was
quite possible that, with time and patience, one would be able to
tack through the apparently endless succession of deep crevasses;
but we should first have to see whether something better than this
could not be found in another direction. We therefore returned to camp.

Here in the meantime everything had been put in order, the tent set
up, and the dogs fed. Now came the great question: What was there on
the other side of the ridge? Was it the same desperate confusion,
or would the ground offer better facilities? Three of us went off
to see. Excitement rose as we neared the saddle; so much depended on
finding a reasonable way. One more pull and we were up; it was worth
the trouble. The first glance showed us that this was the way we had to
go. The mountain-side ran smooth and even under the lofty summit-like a
gabled church tower -- of Mount Don Pedro Christophersen, and followed
the direction of the glacier. We could see the place where this long,
even surface united with the glacier; to all appearance it was free
from disturbance. We saw some crevasses, of course, but they were far
apart, and did not give us the idea that they would be a hindrance. But
we were still too far from the spot to be able to draw any certain
conclusions as to the character of the ground; we therefore set off
towards the bottom to examine the conditions more closely. The surface
was loose up here, and the snow fairly deep; our ski slipped over it
well, but it would be heavy for dogs. We advanced rapidly, and soon
came to the huge crevasses. They were big enough and deep enough, but
so scattered that, without much trouble, we could find a way between
them. The hollow between the two mountains, which was filled by the
Heiberg Glacier, grew narrower and narrower towards the end, and,
although appearances were still very pleasant, I expected to find some
disturbance when we arrived at the point where the mountain-side passed
into the glacier. But my fears proved groundless; by keeping right
under Don Pedro we went clear of all trouble, and in a short time,
to our great joy, we found ourselves above and beyond that chaotic
part of the Heiberg Glacier which had completely barred our progress.

Up here all was strangely peaceful; the mountain-side and the glacier
united in a great flat terrace -- a plain, one might call it --
without disturbance of any kind. We could see depressions in the
surface where the huge crevasses had formerly existed, but now they
were entirely filled up, and formed one with the surrounding level. We
could now see right to the end of this mighty glacier, and form some
idea of its proportions. Mount Wilhelm Christophersen and Mount Ole
Engelstad formed the end of it; these two beehive-shaped summits,
entirely covered with snow, towered high into the sky. We understood
now that the last of the ascent was before us, and that what we saw
in the distance between these two mountains was the great plateau
itself. The question, then, was to find a way up, and to conquer
this last obstruction in the easiest manner. In the radiantly clear
air we could see the smallest details with our excellent prismatic
glasses, and make our calculations with great confidence. It would
be possible to clamber up Don Pedro himself; we had done things as
difficult before. But here the side of the mountain was fairly steep,
and full of big crevasses and a fearful quantity of gigantic blocks
of ice. Between Don Pedro and Wilhelm Christophersen an arm of the
glacier went up on to the plateau, but it was so disturbed and broken
up that it could not be used. Between Wilhelm Christophersen and Ole
Engelstad there was no means of getting through. Between Ole Engelstad
and Fridtjof Nansen, on the other hand, it looked more promising,
but as yet the first of these mountains obstructed our view so much
that we could not decide with certainty. We were all three rather
tired, but agreed to continue our excursion, and find out what was
here concealed. Our work to-day would make our progress to-morrow so
much the easier. We therefore went on, and laid our course straight
over the topmost flat terrace of the Heiberg Glacier. As we advanced,
the ground between Nansen and Engelstad opened out more and more, and
without going any farther we were able to decide from the formations
that here we should undoubtedly find the best way up. If the final
ascent at the end of the glacier, which was only partly visible,
should present difficulties, we could make out from where we stood
that it would be possible, without any great trouble, to work our way
over the upper end of the Nansen Mountain itself, which here passed
into the plateau by a not too difficult glacier. Yes, now we were
certain that it was indeed the great plateau and nothing else that we
saw before us. In the pass between the two mountains, and some little
distance within the plateau, Helland Hansen showed up, a very curious
peak to look at. It seemed to stick its nose up through the plateau,
and no more; its shape was long, and it reminded one of nothing so
much as the ridge of a roof. Although this peak was thus only just
visible, it stood 11,000 feet above the sea.

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