On December 16, 1911, a Norwegian exploring party headed by Captain
Roald Amundsen reached the South Pole. The discovery thus followed with
surprising closeness after Peary's triumph in reaching the North Pole
in 1909.
Antarctic exploration had never attracted so much attention as that of
the far north; partly because an almost impossible ice barrier a
hundred feet high was known to extend across the southern ocean at
about the parallel of the Antarctic Circle. In 1908, however, an
English expedition under Lieutenant Shackleton managed to penetrate
beyond this barrier in the region south of New Zealand and reached to
within less than two hundred miles of the pole. They established the
fact that in contrast to the deep waters which flow above the northern
Pole, the southern Pole is raised upon an Antarctic mountain continent
many thousand feet in height. Shackleton's success led to several other
expeditions, and in 1910 three separate parties made almost
simultaneous efforts to reach the Pole, one from Japan and one from
England, as well as the Norwegian one.
We give here Captain Amundsen's own account of his expedition as first
explained by him before the Berlin Geographical Society and published
by the New York Geographical Society in their bulletin.
The glowing success of Amundsen's expedition throws into sharpest
relief the tragedy of the parallel English expedition. Captain Scott,
the leader of this party, also reached the Pole after a far more
desperate struggle. But he reached it on January 18, 1912, only to find
that his Norwegian rival had preceded him, and he and his entire party
died of starvation and exhaustion on their return journey toward their
camp.
The first aim of my expedition was the attainment of the South Pole. I
have the honor to report the accomplishment of the plan.
I can only mention briefly here the expeditions which have worked in
the region which we had selected for our starting-point. As we wished
to reach the South Pole our first problem was to go south as far as
possible with our ship and there establish our station. Even so, the
sled journeys would be long enough. I knew that the English expedition
would again choose their old winter quarters in McMurdo Sound, South
Victoria Land, as their starting-point. From newspaper report it was
known that the Japanese had selected King Edward VII. Land. In order to
avoid these two expeditions we had to establish our station on the
Great Ice Barrier as far as possible from the starting-points of the
two other expeditions.
The Great Ice Barrier, also called the Ross Barrier, lies between South
Victoria Land and King Edward VII. Land and has an extent of about 515
miles. The first to reach this mighty ice formation was Sir James Clark
Ross in 1841. He did not dare approach the great ice wall, 100 feet
high, with his two sailing ships, the _Erebus_ and the _Terror_, whose
progress southward was impeded by this mighty obstacle. He examined the
ice wall from a distance, however, as far as possible. His observations
showed that the Barrier is not a continuous, abrupt ice wall, but is
interrupted by bays and small channels. On Ross's map a bay of
considerable magnitude may be seen.
The next expedition was that of the _Southern Cross_ in 1900. It is
interesting to note that this party found the bay mentioned above at
the same place where Ross had seen it in 1841, nearly sixty years
before; that this expedition also was able to land a few miles to the
east of the large bay in a small bay, named Balloon Bight, and from
there to ascend the Ice Barrier, which heretofore had been considered
an insurmountable obstacle to further advance toward the south.
In 1901 the _Discovery_ steamed along the Barrier and confirmed in
every respect what the _Southern Cross_ had observed. Land was also
discovered in the direction indicated by Ross, namely, King Edward VII.
Land. Scott, too, landed in Balloon Bight, and, like his predecessors,
saw the large bay to the west.
In 1908 Shackleton arrived there on the _Nimrod_. He, too, followed
along the edge of the Ice Barrier. He came to the conclusion that
disturbances had taken place in the Ice Barrier. The shore line of
Balloon Bight, he thought, had changed and merged with the large bay to
the west. This large bay, which he thought to be of recent origin, he
named Bay of Whales. He gave up his original plan of landing there, as
the Ice Barrier appeared to him too dangerous for the establishment of
winter quarters.
It was not difficult to determine that the bay shown on Ross's map and
the so-called Bay of Whales are identical; it was only necessary to
compare the two maps. Except for a few pieces that had broken off from
the Barrier, the bay had remained the same for the last seventy years.
It was therefore possible to assume that the bay did not owe its origin
to chance and that it must be underlaid by land, either in the form of
sand banks or otherwise.
This bay we decided upon as our base of operations. It lies 400 miles
from the English station in McMurdo Sound and 115 miles from King
Edward VII. Land. We could therefore assume that we should be far
enough from the English sphere of interest and need not fear crossing
the route of the English expedition. The reports concerning the
Japanese station on King Edward VII. Land were indefinite: we took it
for granted, however, that a distance of 115 miles would suffice.
On August 9, 1910, we left Norway on the _Fram_, the ship that had
originally been built for Nansen. We had ninety-seven superb Eskimo
dogs and provisions for two years. The first harbor we reached was
Madeira. There the last preparations were made for our voyage on the
Ross Barrier--truly not an insignificant distance which we had to
cover, namely, 16,000 nautical miles from Norway to the Bay of Whales.
We had estimated that this trip would require five months. The _Fram_,
which has justly been called the stanchest polar ship in the world, on
this voyage across practically all of the oceans, proved herself to be
extremely seaworthy. Thus we traversed without a single mishap the
regions of the northeast and of the southeast trades, the stormy seas
of the "roaring forties," the fogs of the fifties, the ice-filled
sixties, and reached our field of work at the Ice Barrier on January
14, 1911. Everything had gone splendidly.
The ice in the Bay of Whales had just broken up, and we were able to
advance considerably farther south than any of our predecessors had
done. We found a quiet little nook behind a projecting ice cape; from
here we could transfer our equipment to the Barrier with comparative
safety. Another great advantage was that the Barrier at this place
descended very gradually to the sea ice, so that we had the best
possible surface for our sleds. Our first undertaking was to ascend the
Barrier in order to get a general survey and to determine a suitable
place for the erection of the house which we had brought with us. The
supposition that this part of the Barrier rests on land seemed to be
confirmed immediately by our surroundings. Instead of the smooth, flat
surface which the outer wall of the Barrier presents, we here found the
surface to be very uneven. We everywhere saw sharp hills, and points
between which there were pressure-cracks and depressions filled with
large masses of drift. These features were not of recent date. On the
contrary, it was easy to see that they were very old and that they must
have had their origin at a time which long preceded the period of
Ross's visit.
Originally we had planned to establish our station several miles from
the edge of the Barrier, in order not to subject ourselves to the
danger of an unwelcome and involuntary sea trip, which might have
occurred had the part of the Barrier on which we erected our house
broken off. This precaution, however, was not necessary, as the
features which we observed on our first examination of the area offered
a sufficient guaranty for the stability of the Barrier at this point.
In a small valley, hardly two and a half miles from the ship's
anchorage, we therefore selected a place for our winter quarters. It
was protected from the wind on all sides. On the next day we began
unloading the ship. We had brought with us material for house-building
as well as equipment and provisions for nine men for several years. We
divided into two groups, the ship's group and the land group. The first
was composed of the commander of the ship, Captain Nilsen, and the nine
men who were to stay on board to take the _Fram_ out of the ice and to
Buenos Aires. The other group consisted of the men who were to occupy
the winter quarters and march on to the south. The ship's group had to
unload everything from the ship upon the ice. There the land group took
charge of the cargo and brought it to the building site. At first we
were rather unaccustomed to work, as we had had little exercise on the
long sea voyage. But before long we were all "broken in," and then the
transfer to the site of our home "Framheim" went on rapidly; the house
grew daily.
When all the material had been landed our skilled carpenters, Olav
Bjaaland and Jorgen Stubberud, began building the house. It was a
ready-made house, which we had brought with us; nothing had to be done
but to put together the various numbered parts. In order that the house
might brave all storms, its bottom rested in an excavation four feet
beneath the surface. On January 28th, fourteen days after our arrival,
the house was completed, and all provisions had been landed. A gigantic
task had been performed; everything seemed to point toward a propitious
future. But no time was to be lost; we had to make use of every minute.
The land group had in the mean time been divided into two parties, one
of which saw to it that the provisions and equipment still lacking were
taken out of the ship. The other party was to prepare for an excursion
toward the south which had in view the exploration of the immediate
environs and the establishment of a depot.
On February 10th the latter group marched south. There were four of us
with eighteen dogs and three sleds packed with provisions. That morning
of our start is still vividly in my memory. The weather was calm, the
sky hardly overcast. Before us lay the large, unlimited snow plain,
behind us the Bay of Whales with its projecting ice capes and at its
entrance our dear ship, the _Fram_. On board the flag was hoisted; it
was the last greeting from our comrades of the ship. No one knew
whether and when we should see each other again. In all probability our
comrades would no longer be there when we returned; a year would
probably elapse before we could meet again. One more glance backward,
one more parting greeting and then--forward.
Our first advance on the Barrier was full of excitement and suspense.
So many questions presented themselves: What will be the nature of the
region we have to cross? How will the sleds behave? Will our equipment
meet the requirements of the situation? Have we the proper hauling
power? If we were to accomplish our object, everything had to be of the
best. Our equipment was substantially different from that of our
English competitors. We placed our whole trust on Eskimo dogs and skis,
while the English, as a result of their own experience, had abandoned
dogs as well as skis, but, on the other hand, were well equipped with
motor-sleds and ponies.
We advanced rapidly on the smooth, white snow plain. On February 14th
we reached 80° S. We had thus covered ninety-nine miles. We established
a depot here mainly of 1,300 pounds of provisions which we intended to
use on our main advance to the south in the spring. The return journey
occupied two days; on the first we covered forty miles and on the
second fifty-seven miles. When we reached our station the _Fram_ had
already left. The bay was lonely and deserted; only seals and penguins
were in possession of the place.
The first excursion to the south, although brief, was of great
importance to us. We now knew definitely that our equipment and our
pulling power were eminently suited to the demands upon them. In their
selection no mistake had been made. It was now for us to make use of
everything to the best advantage.
Our sojourn at the station was only a short one. On February 22d we
were ready again to carry supplies to a more southern depot. We
intended to push this depot as far south as possible. On this occasion
our expedition consisted of eight men, seven sleds, and forty-two dogs.
Only the cook remained at "Framheim."
On February 27th, we passed the depot which we had established at 80°
S.; we found everything in the best of order. On March 4th we reached
the eighty-first parallel and deposited there 1,150 pounds of
provisions. Three men returned from here to the station while the five
others continued toward the south and reached the eighty-second
parallel on March 8th, depositing there 1,375 pounds of provisions. We
then returned, and on March 22d were again at home. Before the winter
began we made another excursion to the depot in 80° S., and added to
our supplies there 2,400 pounds of fresh salt meat and 440 pounds of
other provisions. On April 11th we returned from this excursion; this
ended all of our work connected with the establishment of depots. Up to
that date we had carried out 6,700 pounds of provisions and had
distributed these in three repositories.
The part of the Barrier over which we had gone heretofore has an
average height of 165 feet and looked like a flat plain which continued
with slight undulations without any marked features that could have
served for orientation. It has heretofore been the opinion that on such
an endless plain no provisions can be cached without risking their
loss. If we were, however, to have the slightest chance of reaching our
goal we had to establish depots, and that to as great an extent as
possible. This question was discussed among us, and we decided to
establish signs across our route, and not along it, as has been
generally done heretofore. We therefore set up a row of signs at right
angles to our route, that is, in an east-west direction from our
depots. Two of these signs were placed on opposite sides of each of the
three depots, at a distance of 5.6 miles (9 kilometers) from them; and
between the signs and the depot two flags were erected for every
kilometer. In addition, all flags were marked so that we might know the
direction and distance of the depot to which it referred. This
provision proved entirely trustworthy; we were able to find our depots
even in dense fog. Our compasses and pedometers were tested at the
station; we knew that we could rely upon them.
By our excursions to the depots we had gained a great deal. We had not
only carried a large amount of provisions toward the south, but we had
also gained valuable experience. That was worth more and was to be of
value to us on our final advance to the Pole.
The lowest temperature we had observed on these depot excursions was
-50° Centigrade. The fact that it was still summer when we recorded
this temperature warned us to see that our equipment was in good
condition. We also realized that our heavy sleds were too unwieldy and
that they could easily be made much lighter. This criticism was equally
applicable to the greater part of our equipment.
Several days before the disappearance of the sun were devoted to
hunting seal. The total weight of the seals killed amounted to 132,000
pounds. We therefore had ample provisions for ourselves as well as for
our 115 dogs.
Our next problem was to supply a protective roof for our dogs. We had
brought with us ten large tents in which sixteen men could easily find
room. They were set up on the Ice Barrier; the snow was then dug out to
a depth of six and a half feet inside the tents, so that each dog hut
was nearly twenty feet high. The diameter of a dog hut on the ground
was sixteen feet. We made these huts spacious so that they might be as
airy as possible, and thus avert the frost which is so injurious to
dogs. Our purpose was entirely attained, for even in the severest
weather no dogs were frozen. The tents were always warm and
comfortable. Twelve dogs were housed in each, and every man had to take
care of his own pack.
After we had seen to the wants of the dogs we could then think of
ourselves. As early as April the house was entirely covered by snow. In
this newly drifted snow, passageways were dug connecting directly with
the dog huts. Ample room was thus at our disposal without the need on
our part of furnishing building material. We had workshops, a
blacksmith shop, a room for sewing, one for packing, a storage room for
coal, wood, and oil, a room for regular baths and one for steam baths.
The winter might be as cold and stormy as it would; it could do us no
harm.
On April 21st the sun disappeared and the longest night began which had
ever been experienced by man in the Antarctic. We did not need to fear
the long night, for we were well equipped with provisions for years and
had a comfortable, well-ventilated, well-situated and protected house.
In addition we had our splendid bathroom where we could take a bath
every week. It really was a veritable sanatorium.
After these arrangements had been completed we began preparations for
the main advance in the following spring. We had to improve our
equipment and make it lighter. We discarded all our sleds, for they
were too heavy and unwieldy for the smooth surface of the Ice Barrier.
Our sleds weighed 165 pounds each. Bjaaland, our ski and sledmaker,
took the sleds in hand, and when spring arrived he had entirely made
over our sledge equipment. These sleds weighed only one-third as much
as the old ones. In the same way it was possible to reduce the weight
of all other items of our equipment. Packing the provisions for the
sledge journey was of the greatest importance. Captain Johansen
attended to this work during the winter. Each of the 42,000 loaves of
hard bread had to be handled separately before it could be assigned to
its proper place. In this way the winter passed quickly and agreeably.
All of us were occupied all the time. Our house was warm, dry, light
and airy, and we all enjoyed the best of health. We had no physician
and needed none.
Meteorological observations were taken continuously. The results were
surprising. We had thought that we should have disagreeable, stormy
weather, but this was not the case. During the whole year of our
sojourn at the station we experienced only two moderate storms. The
rest of the time light breezes prevailed, mainly from an easterly
direction. Atmospheric pressure was as a rule very low, but remained
constant. The temperature sank considerably, and I deem it probable
that the mean annual temperature which we recorded, -26° Centigrade, is
the lowest mean temperature which has ever been observed. During five
months of the year we recorded temperatures below -50° Centigrade. On
August 23d the lowest temperature was recorded, -59°. The _aurora
australis_, corresponding to the northern lights of the Arctic, was
observed frequently and in all directions and forms. This phenomenon
changed very rapidly, but, except in certain cases, was not very
intensive.
On August 24th the sun reappeared. The winter had ended. Several days
earlier we had put everything in the best of order, and when the sun
rose over the Barrier we were ready to start. The dogs were in fine
condition.
From now on we observed the temperature daily with great interest, for
as long as the mercury remained below -50° a start was not to be
thought of. In the first days of September all signs indicated that the
mercury would rise. We therefore resolved to start as soon as possible.
On September 8th the temperature was -30°. We started immediately, but
this march was to be short. On the next day the temperature began to
sink rapidly, and several days later the thermometer registered -55°
Centigrade. We human beings could probably have kept on the march for
some time under such a temperature, for we were protected against the
cold by our clothing; but the dogs could not have long withstood this
degree of cold. We were therefore glad when we reached the eightieth
parallel. We deposited there our provisions and equipment in the depot
which we had previously erected and returned to "Framheim."
The weather now became very changeable for a time--the transitional
period from winter to summer; we never knew what weather the next day
would bring. Frostbites from our last march forced us to wait until we
definitely knew that spring had really come. On September 24th we saw
at last positive evidence that spring had arrived: the seals began to
clamber up on the ice. This sign was hailed with rejoicing--not a whit
less the seal meat which Bjaaland brought on the same day. The dogs,
too, enjoyed the arrival of spring. They were ravenous for fresh seal
meat. On September 29th another unrefutable sign of spring appeared in
the arrival of a flock of Antarctic petrels. They flew around our house
inquisitively to the joy of all, not only of ourselves, but also of the
dogs. The latter were wild with joy and excitement, and ran after the
birds in hopes of getting a delicate morsel. Foolish dogs! Their chase
ended with a wild fight among themselves.
On October 20th the weather had at last become so stable that we could
start. We had, meanwhile, changed our original plan, which was that we
should all advance southward together. We realized that we could travel
with perfect safety in two groups, and thus accomplish much more. We
arranged that three men should go to the east to explore King Edward
VII. Land; the remaining five men were to carry out the main plan, the
advance on the South Pole.
October 20th was a beautiful day. Clear, mild weather prevailed. The
temperature was 1° Centigrade above zero. Our sleds were light, and we
could advance rapidly. We did not need to hurry our dogs, for they were
eager enough themselves. We numbered five men and fifty-two dogs with
four sleds. Together with the provisions which we had left in the three
depots at the eightieth, the eighty-first, and the eighty-second
parallels we had sufficient sustenance for 120 days.
Two days after our departure we nearly met with a serious accident.
Bjaaland's sled fell into one of the numerous crevasses. At the
critical moment we were fortunately able to come to Bjaaland's aid; had
we been a moment later the sled with its thirteen dogs would have
disappeared in the seemingly bottomless pit.
On the fourth day we reached our depot at 80° S. We remained there two
days and gave our dogs as much seal meat as they would eat.
Between the eightieth and the eighty-first parallel the Barrier ice
along our route was even, with the exception of a few low undulations;
dangerous hidden places were not to be found. The region between the
eighty-first and the eighty-second parallel was of a totally different
character. During the first nineteen miles we were in a veritable
labyrinth of crevasses, very dangerous to cross. At many places yawning
abysses were visible because large pieces of the surface had broken
off; the surface, therefore, presented a very unsafe appearance. We
crossed this region four times in all. On the first three times such a
dense fog prevailed that we could only recognize objects a few feet
away. Only on the fourth occasion did we have clear weather. Then we
were able to see the great difficulties to which we had been exposed.
On November 5th we reached the depot at the eighty-second parallel and
found everything in order. For the last time our dogs were able to have
a good rest and eat their fill; and they did so thoroughly during their
two days' rest.
Beginning at the eightieth parallel we constructed snow cairns which
should serve as sign-posts on our return. In all we erected 150 such
sign-posts, each of which required sixty snow blocks. About 9,000 snow
blocks had therefore to be cut out for this purpose. These cairns did
not disappoint us, for they enabled us to return by exactly the same
route we had previously followed.
South of the eighty-second parallel the Barrier was, if possible, still
more even than farther north; we therefore advanced quite rapidly. At
every unit parallel which we crossed on our advance toward the south we
established a depot. We thereby doubtlessly exposed ourselves to a
certain risk, for there was no time to set up sign-posts around the
depots. We therefore had to rely on snow cairns. On the other hand, our
sleds became lighter, so that it was never hard for the dogs to pull
them.
When we reached the eighty-third parallel we saw land in a
southwesterly direction. This could only be South Victoria Land,
probably a continuation of the mountain range which runs in a
southeasterly direction and which is shown on Shackleton's map. From
now on the landscape changed more and more from day to day: one
mountain after another loomed up, one always higher than the other.
Their average elevation was 10,000 to 16,000 feet. Their crest-line was
always sharp; the peaks were like needles. I have never seen a more
beautiful, wild, and imposing landscape. Here a peak would appear with
somber and cold outlines, its head buried in the clouds; there one
could see snow fields and glaciers thrown together in hopeless
confusion. On November 11th we saw land to the south and could soon
determine that a mountain range, whose position is about 86° S. and
163° W., crosses South Victoria Land in an easterly and northeasterly
direction. This mountain range is materially lower than the mighty
mountains of the rest of South Victoria Land. Peaks of an elevation of
1,800 to 4,000 feet were the highest. We could see this mountain chain
as far as the eighty-fourth parallel, where it disappeared below the
horizon.
On November 17th we reached the place where the Ice Barrier ends and
the land begins. We had proceeded directly south from our winter
quarters to this point. We were now in 85° 7' S. and 165° W. The place
where we left the Barrier for the land offered no special difficulties.
A few extended undulating reaches of ice had to be crossed which were
interrupted by crevasses here and there. Nothing could impede our
advance. It was our plan to go due south from "Framheim" and not to
deviate from this direction unless we should be forced to by obstacles
which nature might place in our path. If our plan succeeded it would be
our privilege to explore completely unknown regions and thereby to
accomplish valuable geographic work.
The immediate ascent due south into the mountainous region led us
between the high peaks of South Victoria Land. To all intents and
purposes no great difficulties awaited us here. To be sure, we should
probably have found a less steep ascent if we had gone over to the
newly discovered mountain range just mentioned. But as we maintained
the principle that direct advance due south was the shortest way to our
goal, we had to bear the consequences.
At this place we established our principal depot and left provisions
for thirty days. On our four sleds we took provisions with us for sixty
days. And now we began the ascent to the plateau. The first part of the
way led us over snow-covered mountain slopes, which at times were quite
steep, but not so much so as to prevent any of us from hauling up his
own sled. Farther up, we found several glaciers which were not very
broad but were very steep. Indeed, they were so steep that we had to
harness twenty dogs in front of each sled. Later the glaciers became
more frequent, and they lay on slopes so steep that it was very hard to
ascend them on our skis. On the first night we camped at a spot which
lay 2,100 feet above sea level. On the second day we continued to climb
up the mountains, mainly over several small glaciers. Our next camp for
the night was at an altitude of 4,100 feet above the sea.
On the third day we made the disagreeable discovery that we should have
to descend 2,100 feet, as between us and the higher mountains to the
south lay a great glacier which crossed our path from east to west.
This could not be helped. The expedition therefore descended with the
greatest possible speed and in an incredibly short time we were down on
the glacier, which was named Axel Heiberg Glacier. Our camp of this
night lay at about 3,100 feet above sea level. On the following day the
longest ascent began; we were forced to follow Axel Heiberg Glacier. At
several places ice blocks were heaped up so that its surface was
hummocky and cleft by crevasses. We had therefore to make detours to
avoid the wide crevasses which, below, expanded into large basins.
These latter, to be sure, were filled with snow; the glacier had
evidently long ago ceased to move. The greatest care was necessary in
our advance, for we had no inkling as to how thick or how thin the
cover of snow might be. Our camp for this night was pitched in an
extremely picturesque situation at an elevation of about 5,250 feet
above sea level. The glacier was here hemmed in by two mountains which
were named "Fridtjof Nansen" and "Don Pedro Christophersen," both
16,000 feet high.
Farther down toward the west at the end of the glacier "Ole Engelstad
Mountain" rises to an elevation of about 13,000 feet. At this
relatively narrow place the glacier was very hummocky and rent by many
deep crevasses, so that we often feared that we could not advance
farther. On the following day we reached a slightly inclined plateau
which we assumed to be the same which Shackleton describes. Our dogs
accomplished a feat on this day which is so remarkable that it should
be mentioned here. After having already done heavy work on the
preceding days, they covered nineteen miles on this day and overcame a
difference in altitude of 5,700 feet. On the following night we camped
at a place which lay 10,800 feet above sea level. The time had now come
when we were forced to kill some of our dogs. Twenty-four of our
faithful comrades had to die. The place where this happened was named
the "Slaughter House." On account of bad weather we had to stay here
for four days. During this stay both we and the dogs had nothing except
dog meat to eat. When we could at last start again on November 26th,
the meat of ten dogs only remained. This we deposited at our camp;
fresh meat would furnish a welcome change on our return. During the
following days we had stormy weather and thick snow flurries, so that
we could see nothing of the surrounding country. We observed, however,
that we were descending rapidly. For a moment, when the weather
improved for a short time, we saw high mountains directly to the east.
During the heavy snow squall on November 28th we passed two peculiarly
shaped mountains lying in a north-south direction; they were the only
ones that we could see on our right hand. These "Helland-Hansen
Mountains" were entirely covered by snow and had an altitude of 9,200
feet. Later they served as an excellent landmark for us.
On the next day the clouds parted and the sun burst forth. It seemed to
us as if we had been transferred to a totally new country. In the
direction of our advance rose a large glacier, and to the east of it
lay a mountain range running from southeast to northwest. Toward the
west, impenetrable fog lay over the glacier and obscured even our
immediate surroundings. A measurement by hypsometer gave 8,200 feet for
the point lying at the foot of this, the "Devil's Glacier." We had
therefore descended 2,600 feet since leaving the "Slaughter House."
This was not an agreeable discovery, as we, no doubt, would have to
ascend as much again, if not more. We left provisions here for six days
and continued our march.
From the camp of that night we had a superb view of the eastern
mountain range. Belonging to it we saw a mountain of more wonderful
form than I have ever seen before. The altitude of the mountain was
12,300 feet; its peaks roundabout were covered by a glacier. It looked
as if Nature, in a fit of anger, had dropped sharp cornered ice blocks
on the mountain. This mountain was christened "Helmer-Hansen Mountain,"
and became our best point of reference. There we saw also the "Oscar
Wisting Mountains," the "Olav Bjaaland Mountains," the "Sverre Hassel
Mountains," which, dark and red, glittered in the rays of the midnight
sun and reflected a white and blue light. In the distance the mountains
seen before loomed up romantically; they looked very high when one saw
them through the thick clouds and masses of fog which passed over them
from time to time and occasionally allowed us to catch glimpses of
their mighty peaks and their broken glaciers. For the first time we saw
the "Thorvald Nilsen Mountain," which has a height of 16,400 feet.
It took us three days to climb the "Devil's Glacier." On the first of
December we had left behind us this glacier with its crevasses and
bottomless pits and were now at an elevation of 9,350 feet above sea
level. In front of us lay an inclined block-covered ice plateau which,
in the fog and snow, had the appearance of a frozen lake. Traveling
over this "Devil's Ball Room," as we called the plateau, was not
particularly pleasant. Southeasterly storms and snow flurries occurred
daily, during which we could see absolutely nothing. The floor on which
we were walking was hollow beneath us; it sounded as if we were going
over empty barrels. We crossed this disagreeable and uncanny region as
quickly as was compatible with the great care we had to exercise, for
during the whole time we were thinking of the unwelcome possibility of
sinking through.
On December 6th we reached our highest point--according to hypsometric
measurement 11,024 feet above sea level. From there on the interior
plateau remained entirely level and of the same elevation. In 88° 23'
S. we had reached the place which corresponded to Shackleton's
southernmost advance. We camped in 88° 25' S. and established there our
last--the tenth--depot, in which we left 220 pounds of provisions. Our
way now gradually led downward. The surface was in excellent condition,
entirely level, without a single hill or undulation or other obstacle.
Our sleds forged ahead to perfection; the weather was beautiful; we
daily covered seventeen miles. Nothing prevented us from increasing our
daily distance. But we had time enough and ample provisions; we thought
it wiser, also, to spare our dogs and not to work them harder than
necessary. Without a mishap we reached the eighty-ninth parallel on
December 11th. It seemed as if we had come into a region where good
weather constantly prevails. The surest sign of continued calm weather
was the absolutely level surface. We could push a tent-pole seven feet
deep into the snow without meeting with any resistance. This proved
clearly enough that the snow had fallen in equable weather; calm must
have prevailed or a slight breeze may have blown at the most. Had the
weather been variable--calms alternating with storms--snow strata of
different density would have formed, a condition which we would
immediately have noticed when driving in our tent-poles.
Our dead reckoning had heretofore always given the same results as our
astronomical observations. During the last eight days of our march we
had continuous sunshine. Every day we stopped at noon in order to
measure the meridian altitude and every evening we made an observation
for azimuth. On December 13th the meridian altitude gave 89° 37', dead
reckoning, 89° 38'. In latitude 88° 25' we had been able to make our
last good observation of azimuth. Subsequently this method of
observation became valueless. As these last observations gave
practically the same result and the difference was almost a constant
one, we used the observation made in 88° 25' as a basis. We calculated
that we should reach our goal on December 14th.
December 14th dawned. It seemed to me as if we slept a shorter time, as
if we ate breakfast in greater haste, and as if we started earlier on
this morning than on the preceding days. As heretofore, we had clear
weather, beautiful sunshine, and only a very light breeze. We advanced
well. Not much was said. I think that each one of us was occupied with
his own thoughts. Probably only one thought dominated us all, a thought
which caused us to look eagerly toward the south and to scan the
horizon of this unlimited plateau. Were we the first, or----?
The distance calculated was covered. Our goal had been reached.
Quietly, in absolute silence, the mighty plateau lay stretched out
before us. No man had ever yet seen it, no man had ever yet stood on
it. In no direction was a sign to be seen. It was indeed a solemn
moment when, each of us grasping the flagpole with one hand, we all
hoisted the flag of our country on the geographical South Pole, on
"King Haakon VII Plateau."
During the night, as our watches showed it to be, three of our men went
around the camp in a circle 10 geographical miles (11.6 statute miles)
in diameter and erected cairns, while the other two men remained in the
tent and made hourly astronomical observations of the sun. These gave
89° 55' S. We might well have been satisfied with this result, but we
had time to spare and the weather was fine. Why should we not try to
make our observations at the Pole itself? On December 16th, therefore,
we transported our tent the remaining 5-3/4 miles to the south and
camped there. We arranged everything as comfortably as possible in
order to make a round of observations during the twenty-four hours. The
altitude was measured every hour by four men with the sextant and
artificial horizon. These observations will be worked out at the
University of Christiania. This tent camp served as the center of a
circle which we drew with a radius of 5-1/6 miles [on the circumference
of which] cairns were erected. A small tent, which we had brought with
us in order to designate the South Pole, was put up here and the
Norwegian flag with the pennant of the _Fram_ was hoisted above it.
This Norwegian home received the name of "Polheim." According to the
observed weather conditions, this tent may remain there for a long
time. In it we left a letter addressed to His Majesty, King Haakon VII,
in which we reported what we had done. The next person to come there
will take the letter with him and see to its delivery. In addition, we
left there several pieces of clothing, a sextant, an artificial
horizon, and a hypsometer.
On December 17th we were ready to return. On our journey to the Pole we
had covered 863 miles, according to the measurements of the odometer;
our mean daily marches were therefore 15 miles. When we left the Pole
we had three sleds and seventeen dogs. We now experienced the great
satisfaction of being able to increase our daily rations, a measure
which previous expeditions had not been able to carry out, as they were
all forced to reduce their rations, and that at an early date. For the
dogs, too, the rations were increased, and from time to time they
received one of their comrades as additional food. The fresh meat
revived the dogs and undoubtedly contributed to the good results of the
expedition.
One last glance, one last adieu, we sent back to "Polheim." Then we
resumed our journey. We still see the flag; it still waves to us.
Gradually it diminishes in size and finally entirely disappears from
our sight. A last greeting to the Little Norway lying at the South
Pole!
We left King Haakon VII Plateau, which lay there bathed in sunshine, as
we had found it on our outward journey. The mean temperature during our
sojourn there was--13° Centigrade. It seemed, however, as though the
weather was much milder.
I shall not tire you by a detailed description of our return, but shall
limit myself to some of the interesting episodes.
The splendid weather with which we were favored on our return displayed
to us the panorama of the mighty mountain range which is the
continuation of the two ranges which unite in 86° S. The newly
discovered range runs in a southeasterly direction and culminates in
domes of an elevation of 10,000 to over 16,000 feet. In 88° S. this
range disappears in the distance below the horizon. The whole complex
of newly discovered mountain ranges, which may extend a distance of
over 500 miles, has been named the Queen Maud Ranges.
We found all of our ten provision depots again. The provisions, of
which we finally had a superabundance, were taken with us to the
eightieth parallel and cached there. From the eighty-sixth parallel on
we did not need to apportion our rations; every one could eat as much
as he desired.
After an absence of ninety-nine days we reached our winter quarters,
"Framheim," on January 25th. We had, therefore, covered the journey of
864 miles in thirty-nine days, during which we did not allow ourselves
any days of rest. Our mean daily march, therefore, amounted to 22.1
miles. At the end of our journey two of our sleds were in good
condition and eleven dogs healthy and happy. Not once had we needed to
help our dogs and to push the sleds ourselves.
Our provisions consisted of pemmican, biscuits, desiccated milk, and
chocolate. We therefore did not have very much variety, but it was
healthful and robust nourishment which built up the body, and it was,
of course, just this that we needed. The best proof of this was that we
felt well during the whole time and never had reason to complain of our
food, a condition which has occurred so often on long sledge journeys
and must be considered a sure indication of improper nourishment.
Simultaneously with our work on land, scientific observations were made
on board the _Fram_ by Captain Nilsen and his companions which probably
stamp this expedition as the most valuable of all. The _Fram_ made a
voyage from Buenos Aires to the coast of Africa and back, covering a
distance of 8,000 nautical miles, during which a series of
oceanographical observations was made at no less than sixty stations.
The total length of the _Fram's_ journey equaled twice the
circumnavigation of the globe. The _Fram_ has successfully braved
dangerous voyages which made high demands upon her crew. The trip out
of the ice region in the fall of 1911 was of an especially serious
character. Her whole complement then comprised only ten men. Through
night and fog, through storm and hurricane, through pack ice and
between icebergs the _Fram_ had to find her way. One may well say that
this was an achievement that can be realized only by experienced and
courageous sailors, a deed that honors the whole nation.
In conclusion, you will allow me to say that it was these same ten men,
who on February 15, 1911, hoisted the flag of their country, the
Norwegian flag, on a more southerly point of the earth than the crew of
any other ship whose keel ever cleft the waves. This is a worthy record
in our record century. Farthest north, farthest south did our dear old
_Fram_ penetrate.