Plan and Preparations
"The deity of success is a woman, and she insists on being won,
not courted. You've got to seize her and bear her off, instead of
standing under her window with a mandolin." -- Rex Beach.
"The North Pole is reached."
In a flash the news spread over the world. The goal of which so
many had dreamed, for which so many had laboured and suffered and
sacrificed their lives, was attained. It was in September, 1909,
that the news reached us.
At the same instant I saw quite clearly that the original plan of
the Fram's third voyage -- the exploration of the North Polar basin
-- hung in the balance. If the expedition was to be saved, it was
necessary to act quickly and without hesitation. Just as rapidly as
the message had travelled over the cables I decided on my change of
front -- to turn to the right-about, and face to the South.
It was true that I had announced in my plan that the Fram's third
voyage would be in every way a scientific expedition, and would have
nothing to do with record-breaking; it was also true that many of
the contributors who had so warmly supported me had done so with the
original plan before them; but in view of the altered circumstances,
and the small prospect I now had of obtaining funds for my original
plan, I considered it neither mean nor unfair to my supporters to
strike a blow that would at once put the whole enterprise on its feet,
retrieve the heavy expenses that the expedition had already incurred,
and save the contributions from being wasted.
It was therefore with a clear conscience that I decided to postpone
my original plan for a year or two, in order to try in the meantime
to raise the funds that were still lacking. The North Pole, the
last problem but one of popular interest in Polar exploration,
was solved. If I was now to succeed in arousing interest in my
undertaking, there was nothing left for me but to try to solve the
last great problem -- the South Pole.
I know that I have been reproached for not having at once made
the extended plan public, so that not only my supporters, but the
explorers who were preparing to visit the same regions might have
knowledge of it. I was well aware that these reproaches would come,
and had therefore carefully weighed this side of the matter. As
regards the former -- the contributors to my expedition -- my mind
was soon at rest. They were all men of position, and above discussing
the application of the sums they had dedicated to the enterprise. I
knew that I enjoyed such confidence among these people that they
would all judge the circumstances aright, and know that when the time
came their contributions would be used for the purpose for which they
were given. And I have already received countless proofs that I was
not mistaken.
Nor did I feel any great scruples with regard to the other Antarctic
expeditions that were being planned at the time. I knew I should be
able to inform Captain Scott of the extension of my plans before he
left civilization, and therefore a few months sooner or later could
be of no great importance. Scott's plan and equipment were so widely
different from my own that I regarded the telegram that I sent him
later, with the information that we were bound for the Antarctic
regions, rather as a mark of courtesy than as a communication which
might cause him to alter his programme in the slightest degree. The
British expedition was designed entirely for scientific research. The
Pole was only a side-issue, whereas in my extended plan it was the
main object. On this little détour science would have to look after
itself; but of course I knew very well that we could not reach the
Pole by the route I had determined to take without enriching in a
considerable degree several branches of science.
Our preparations were entirely different, and I doubt whether Captain
Scott, with his great knowledge of Antarctic exploration, would
have departed in any point from the experience he had gained and
altered his equipment in accordance with that which I found it best
to employ. For I came far short of Scott both in experience and means.
As regards Lieutenant Shirase in the Kainan Maru, I understood it to
be his plan to devote his whole attention to King Edward VII. Land.
After thus thoroughly considering these questions, I came to the
conclusions I have stated, and my plan was irrevocably fixed. If at
that juncture I had made my intention public, it would only have given
occasion for a lot of newspaper discussion, and possibly have ended
in the project being stifled at its birth. Everything had to be got
ready quietly and calmly. My brother, upon whose absolute silence
I could blindly rely, was the only person I let into the secret of
my change of plan, and he did me many important services during the
time when we alone shared the knowledge. Then Lieutenant Thorvald
Nilsen -- at that time first officer of the Fram, now her commander --
returned home, and I considered it my duty to inform him immediately
of my resolve. The way in which he received it made me feel safe in
my choice of him. I saw that in him I had found not only a capable
and trustworthy man, but a good comrade as well; and this was a point
of the highest importance. If the relations between the chief and the
second in command are good, much unpleasantness and many unnecessary
worries can be avoided. Besides which, a good understanding in this
quarter gives an example to the whole ship. It was a great relief to
me when Captain Nilsen came home in January, 1910, and was able to
help -- which he did with a good will, a capability, and a reliability
that I have no words to commend.
The following was the plan of the Fram's southern voyage: Departure
from Norway at latest before the middle of August. Madeira was to be
the first and only place of call. From there a course was to be made on
the best route for a sailing-ship -- for the Fram cannot be regarded
as anything else -- southward through the Atlantic, and then to the
east, passing to the south of the Cape of Good Hope and Australia,
and finally pushing through the pack and into Ross Sea about New
Year, 1911.
As a base of operations I had chosen the most southerly point we could
reach with the vessel -- the Bay of Whales in the great Antarctic
Barrier. We hoped to arrive here about January 15. After having
landed the selected shore party -- about ten men -- with materials
for a house, equipment, and provisions for two years, the Fram was
to go out again and up to Buenos Aires, in order to carry out from
there an oceanographical voyage across the Atlantic to the coast of
Africa and back. In October she was to return to the Bay of Whales
and take off the shore party. So much, but no more, could be settled
beforehand. The further progress of the expedition could only be
determined later, when the work in the South was finished.
My knowledge of the Ross Barrier was due to descriptions alone;
but I had so carefully studied all the literature that treats of
these regions, that, on first encountering this mighty mass of ice,
I felt as if I had known it for many years.
After thorough consideration, I fixed upon the Bay of Whales as a
winter station, for several reasons. In the first place, because we
could there go farther south in the ship than at any other point
-- a whole degree farther south than Scott could hope to get in
McMurdo Sound, where he was to have his station. And this would be
of very great importance in the subsequent sledge journey toward the
Pole. Another great advantage was that we came right on to our field
of work, and could see from our hut door the conditions and surface we
should have to deal with. Besides this, I was justified in supposing
that the surface southward from this part of the Barrier would be
considerably better, and offer fewer difficulties than the piled-up
ice along the land. In addition, animal life in the Bay of Whales was,
according to the descriptions, extraordinarily rich, and offered all
the fresh meat we required in the form of seals, penguins, etc.
Besides these purely technical and material advantages which the
Barrier seemed to possess as a winter station, it offered a specially
favourable site for an investigation of the meteorological conditions,
since here one would be unobstructed by land on all sides. It would be
possible to study the character of the Barrier by daily observations on
the very spot better than anywhere else. Such interesting phenomena as
the movement, feeding, and calving of this immense mass of ice could,
of course, be studied very fully at this spot.
Last, but not least, there was the enormous advantage that it was
comparatively easy to reach in the vessel. No expedition had yet been
prevented from coming in here.
I knew that this plan of wintering on the Barrier itself would be
exposed to severe criticism as recklessness, foolhardiness, and so
forth, for it was generally assumed that the Barrier was afloat here,
as in other places. Indeed, it was thought to be so even by those who
had themselves seen it. Shackleton's description of the conditions
at the time of his visit did not seem very promising. Mile after
mile had broken away, and he thanked God he had not made his camp
there. Although I have a very great regard for Shackleton, his work
and his experience, I believe that in this case his conclusion was
too hasty -- fortunately, I must add. For if, when Shackleton passed
the Bay of Whales on January, 24, 1908, and saw the ice of the bay in
process of breaking up and drifting out, he had waited a few hours,
or at the most a couple of days, the problem of the South Pole would
probably have been solved long before December, 1911. With his keen
sight and sound judgment, it would not have taken him long to determine
that the inner part of the bay does not consist of floating barrier,
but that the Barrier there rests upon a good, solid foundation,
probably in the form of small islands, skerries, or shoals, and from
this point he and his able companions would have disposed of the South
Polar question once for all. But circumstances willed it otherwise,
and the veil was only lifted, not torn away.
I had devoted special study to this peculiar formation in the Barrier,
and had arrived at the conclusion that the inlet that exists to-day in
the Ross Barrier under the name of the Bay of Whales is nothing else
than the self-same bight that was observed by Sir James Clark Ross
-- no doubt with great changes of outline, but still the same. For
seventy years, then, this formation -- with the exception of the
pieces that had broken away -- had persisted in the same place. I
therefore concluded that it could be no accidental formation. What,
once, in the dawn of time, arrested the mighty stream of ice at this
spot and formed a lasting bay in its edge, which with few exceptions
runs in an almost straight line, was not merely a passing whim of
the fearful force that came crashing on, but something even stronger
than that -- something that was firmer than the hard ice -- namely,
the solid land. Here in this spot, then, the Barrier piled itself up
and formed the bay we now call the Bay of Whales. The observations we
made during our stay there confirm the correctness of this theory. I
therefore had no misgivings in placing our station on this part of
the Barrier.
The plan of the shore party was, as soon as the hut was built and
provisions landed, to carry supplies into the field, and lay down
depots as far to the south as possible. I hoped to get such a quantity
of provisions brought down to lat. 80° S., that we should be able to
regard this latitude as the real starting-place of the actual sledge
journey to the Pole. We shall see later that this hope was more than
fulfilled, and a labour many times greater than this was performed. By
the time this depot work was accomplished winter would be before us,
and with the knowledge we had of the conditions in the Antarctic
regions, every precaution would have to be taken to meet the coldest
and probably the most stormy weather that any Polar expedition had
hitherto encountered. My object was, when winter had once set in, and
everything in the station was in good working order, to concentrate
all our forces upon the one object -- that of reaching the Pole.
I intended to try to get people with me who were specially fitted for
outdoor work in the cold. Even more necessary was it to find men who
were experienced dog-drivers; I saw what a decisive bearing this would
have on the result. There are advantages and disadvantages in having
experienced people with one on an expedition like this. The advantages
are obvious. If a variety of experiences are brought together and
used with common sense, of course a great deal can be achieved. The
experience of one man will often come in opportunely where that
of another falls short. The experiences of several will supplement
each other, and form something like a perfect whole; this is what I
hoped to obtain. But there is no rose without a thorn; if it has its
advantages, it also has its drawbacks. The drawback to which one is
liable in this case is that someone or other may think he possesses
so much experience that every opinion but his own is worthless. It
is, of course, regrettable when experience takes this turn, but
with patience and common sense it can be broken of it. In any case,
the advantages are so great and predominant that I had determined
to have experienced men to the greatest extent possible. It was my
plan to devote the entire winter to working at our outfit, and to
get it as near to perfection as possible. Another thing to which we
should have to give some time was the killing of a sufficient number
of seals to provide fresh meat both for ourselves and our dogs for
the whole time. Scurvy, the worst enemy of Polar expeditions, must
be kept off at all costs, and to achieve this it was my intention
to use fresh meat every day. It proved easy to carry out this rule,
since everyone, without exception, preferred seal meat to tinned
foods. And when spring came I hoped that my companions and I would
be ready, fit and well, with an outfit complete in every way.
The plan was to leave the station as early in the spring as
possible. If we had set out to capture this record, we must at any
cost get there first. Everything must be staked upon this. From the
very moment when I had formed the plan, I had made up my mind that
our course from the Bay of Whales must be set due south, and follow
the same meridian, if possible, right up to the Pole. The effect
of this would be that we should traverse an entirely new region,
and gain other results besides beating the record.
I was greatly astonished to hear, on my return from the South, that
some people had actually believed we had set our course from the Bay
of Whales for Beardmore Glacier -- Shackleton's route -- and followed
it to the south. Let me hasten to assure them that this idea never
for a single instant crossed my mind when I made the plan. Scott
had announced that he was going to take Shackleton's route, and that
decided the matter. During our long stay at Framheim not one of us
ever hinted at the possibility of such a course. Without discussion
Scott's route was declared out of bounds.
No; due south was our way, and the country would have to be difficult
indeed to stop our getting on to the plateau. Our plan was to go
south, and not to leave the meridian unless we were forced to do so
by insuperable difficulties. I foresaw, of course, that there would
be some who would attack me and accuse me of "shabby rivalry," etc.,
and they would perhaps have had some shadow of justification if we had
really thought of taking Captain Scott's route. But it never occurred
to us for a moment. Our starting-point lay 350 geographical miles from
Scott's winter quarters in McMurdo Sound, so there could be no question
of encroaching upon his sphere of action. Moreover, Professor Nansen,
in his direct and convincing way, has put an end once for all to this
twaddle, so that I need not dwell upon it any longer.
I worked out the plan, as here given, at my home on Bundefjord, near
Christiania, in September, 1909, and as it was laid, so was it carried
out to the last detail. That my estimate of the time it would take
was not so very far out is proved by the final sentence of the plan:
"Thus we shall be back from the Polar journey on January 25." It was
on January 25, 1912, that we came into Framheim after our successful
journey to the Pole.
This was not the only time our calculations proved correct; Captain
Nilsen showed himself to be a veritable magician in this way. While I
contented myself with reckoning dates, he did not hesitate to go into
hours. He calculated that we should reach the Barrier on January 15,
1911; this is a distance of 16,000 geographical miles from Norway. We
were at the Barrier on January 14, one day before the time. There
was not much wrong with that estimate.
In accordance with the Storthing's resolution of February 9, 1909,
the Fram was lent for the use of the expedition, and a sum of 75,000
kroner (4,132 pounds sterling) was voted for repairs and necessary
alterations.
The provisions were chosen with the greatest care, and packed with
every precaution. All groceries were soldered in tin boxes, and then
enclosed in strong wooden cases. The packing of tinned provisions
is of enormous importance to a Polar expedition; it is impossible to
give too much attention to this part of the supplies. Any carelessness,
any perfunctory packing on the part of the factory, will as a rule lead
to scurvy. It is an interesting fact that on the four Norwegian Polar
expeditions -- the three voyages of the Fram and the Gjöa's voyage --
not a single case of scurvy occurred. This is good evidence of the
care with which these expeditions were provisioned.
In this matter we owe a deep debt of gratitude above all to Professor
Sophus Torup, who has always been the supervising authority in the
matter of provisioning, this time as well as on the former occasions.
Great praise is also due to the factories that supplied our tinned
goods. By their excellent and conscientious work they deserved well
of the expedition. In this case a part of the supplies was entrusted
to a Stavanger factory, which, in addition to the goods supplied to
order, with great generosity placed at the disposal of the expedition
provisions to the value of 2,000 kroner (£110). The other half of the
tinned foods required was ordered from a firm at Moss. The manager
of this firm undertook at the same time to prepare the necessary
pemmican for men and dogs, and executed this commission in a way that
I cannot sufficiently praise. Thanks to this excellent preparation,
the health both of men and dogs on the journey to the Pole was always
remarkably good. The pemmican we took was essentially different from
that which former expeditions had used. Previously the pemmican had
contained nothing but the desired mixture of dried meat and lard;
ours had, besides these, vegetables and oatmeal, an addition which
greatly improves its flavour, and, as far as we could judge, makes
it easier to digest.
This kind of pemmican was first produced for the use of the Norwegian
Army; it was intended to take the place of the "emergency ration." The
experiment was not concluded at the time the expedition left, but
it may be hoped that the result has proved satisfactory. A more
stimulating, nourishing, and appetizing food, it would be impossible
to find.
But besides the pemmican for ourselves, that for our dogs was equally
important, for they are just as liable to be attacked by scurvy as
we men. The same care had therefore to be devoted to the preparation
of their food. We obtained from Moss two kinds of pemmican, one made
with fish and the other with meat. Both kinds contained, besides the
dried fish (or meat) and lard, a certain proportion of dried milk
and middlings. Both kinds were equally excellent, and the dogs were
always in splendid condition. The pemmican was divided into rations of
1 pound 1.5 ounces, and could be served out to the dogs as it was. But
before we should be able to use this pemmican we had a five months'
voyage before us, and for this part of the expedition I had to look
for a reliable supply of dried fish. This I found through the agent of
the expedition at Tromsö, Mr. Fritz Zappfe. Two well-known firms also
placed large quantities of the best dried fish at my disposal. With
all this excellent fish and some barrels of lard we succeeded in
bringing our dogs through in the best of condition.
One of the most important of our preparations was to find good
dogs. As I have said, I had to act with decision and promptitude if
I was to succeed in getting everything in order. The day after my
decision was made, therefore, I was on my way to Copenhagen, where
the Inspectors for Greenland, Messrs. Daugaard-Jensen and Bentzen,
were to be found at that moment. The director of the Royal Greenland
Trading Company, Mr. Rydberg, showed, as before, the most friendly
interest in my undertaking, and gave the inspectors a free hand. I then
negotiated with these gentlemen, and they undertook to provide 100
of the finest Greenland dogs and to deliver them in Norway in July,
1910. The dog question was thus as good as solved, since the choice
was placed in the most expert hands. I was personally acquainted
with Inspector Daugaard-Jensen from former dealings with him, and
knew that whatever he undertook would be performed with the greatest
conscientiousness. The administration of the Royal Greenland Trading
Company gave permission for the dogs to be conveyed free of charge
on board the Hans Egede and delivered at Christiansand.
Before I proceed to our further equipment, I must say a few more
words about the dogs. The greatest difference between Scott's and
my equipment lay undoubtedly in our choice of draught animals. We
had heard that Scott, relying on his own experience, and that of
Shackleton, had come to the conclusion that Manchurian ponies were
superior to dogs on the Barrier. Among those who were acquainted with
the Eskimo dog, I do not suppose I was the only one who was startled
on first hearing this. Afterwards, as I read the different narratives
and was able to form an accurate opinion of the conditions of surface
and going, my astonishment became even greater. Although I had never
seen this part of the Antarctic regions, I was not long in forming
an opinion diametrically opposed to that of Shackleton and Scott, for
the conditions both of going and surface were precisely what one would
desire for sledging with Eskimo dogs, to judge from the descriptions
of these explorers. If Peary could make a record trip on the Arctic
ice with dogs, one ought, surely, with equally good tackle, to be
able to beat Peary's record on the splendidly even surface of the
Barrier. There must be some misunderstanding or other at the bottom
of the Englishmen's estimate of the Eskimo dog's utility in the Polar
regions. Can it be that the dog has not understood his master? Or
is it the master who has not understood his dog? The right footing
must be established from the outset; the dog must understand that
he has to obey in everything, and the master must know how to make
himself respected. If obedience is once established, I am convinced
that the dog will be superior to all other draught animals over these
long distances.
Another very important reason for using the dog is that this small
creature can much more easily cross the numerous slight snow-bridges
that are not to be avoided on the Barrier and on the glaciers. If a
dog falls into a crevasse there is no great harm done; a tug at his
harness and he is out again; but it is another matter with a pony. This
comparatively large and heavy animal of course falls through far more
easily, and if this happens, it is a long and stiff job to get the
beast hauled up again -- unless, indeed, the traces have broken and
the pony lies at the bottom of a crevasse 1,000 feet deep.
And then there is the obvious advantage that dog can be fed on
dog. One can reduce one's pack little by little, slaughtering the
feebler ones and feeding the chosen with them. In this way they get
fresh meat. Our dogs lived on dog's flesh and pemmican the whole way,
and this enabled them to do splendid work.
And if we ourselves wanted a piece of fresh meat we could cut off a
delicate little fillet; it tasted to us as good as the best beef. The
dogs do not object at all; as long as they get their share they do not
mind what part of their comrade's carcass it comes from. All that was
left after one of these canine meals was the teeth of the victim --
and if it had been a really hard day, these also disappeared.
If we take a step farther, from the Barrier to the plateau, it would
seem that every doubt of the dog's superiority must disappear. Not
only can one get the dogs up over the huge glaciers that lead to the
plateau, but one can make full use of them the whole way. Ponies, on
the other hand, have to be left at the foot of the glacier, while the
men themselves have the doubtful pleasure of acting as ponies. As I
understand Shackleton's account, there can be no question of hauling
the ponies over the steep and crevassed glaciers. It must be rather
hard to have to abandon one's motive power voluntarily when only a
quarter of the distance has been covered. I for my part prefer to
use it all the way.
From the very beginning I saw that the first part of our expedition,
from Norway to the Barrier, would be the most dangerous section. If we
could only reach the Barrier with our dogs safe and well, the future
would be bright enough. Fortunately all my comrades took the same view
of the matter, and with their cooperation we succeeded not only in
bringing the dogs safely to our field of operations, but in landing
them in far better condition than when we received them. Their number
was also considerably increased on the way, which seems to be another
proof of a flourishing state of things. To protect them against damp
and heat we laid a loose deck of planed boards about 3 inches above
the fixed deck, an arrangement by which all the rain and spray ran
underneath the dogs. In this way we kept them out of the water, which
must always be running from side to side on the deck of a deep-laden
vessel on her way to the Antarctic Ocean. Going through the tropics
this loose deck did double service. It always afforded a somewhat cool
surface, as there was a fresh current of air between the two decks. The
main deck, which was black with tar, would have been unbearably hot
for the animals; the false deck was high, and kept fairly white during
the whole voyage. We carried awnings in addition, chiefly on account
of the dogs. These awnings could be stretched over the whole vessel
and give the dogs constant protection from the burning sun.
I still cannot help smiling when I think of the compassionate voices
that were raised here and there -- and even made their way into
print -- about the "cruelty to animals" on board the Fram. Presumably
these cries came from tender-hearted individuals who themselves kept
watch-dogs tied up.
Besides our four-footed companions, we took with us a two-footed one,
not so much on account of the serious work in the Polar regions as for
pleasant entertainment on the way. This was our canary "Fridtjof." It
was one of the many presents made to the expedition, and not the
least welcome of them. It began to sing as soon as it came on board,
and has now kept it going on two circumnavigations through the most
inhospitable waters of the earth. It probably holds the record as a
Polar traveller among its kind.
Later on we had a considerable collection of various families: pigs,
fowls, sheep, cats, and -- rats. Yes, unfortunately, we knew what it
was to have rats on board, the most repulsive of all creatures, and
the worst vermin I know of. But we have declared war against them,
and off they shall go before the Fram starts on her next voyage. We
got them in Buenos Aires, and the best thing will be to bury them in
their native land.
On account of the rather straitened circumstances the expedition had
to contend with, I had to look twice at every shilling before I spent
it. Articles of clothing are an important factor in a Polar expedition,
and I consider it necessary that the expedition should provide each
of its members with the actual "Polar clothing." If one left this
part of the equipment to each individual, I am afraid things would
look badly before the journey was done. I must admit that there was
some temptation to do this. It would have been very much cheaper if
I had simply given each man a list of what clothes he was required
to provide for himself. But by so doing I should have missed the
opportunity of personally supervising the quality of the clothing to
the extent I desired.
It was not an outfit that cut a dash by its appearance, but it was warm
and strong. From the commissariat stores at Horten I obtained many
excellent articles. I owe Captain Pedersen, the present chief of the
Commissariat Department, my heartiest thanks for the courtesy he always
showed me when I came to get things out of him. Through him I had about
200 blankets served out to me. Now, the reader must not imagine a bed
and bedding, such as he may see exhibited in the windows of furniture
shops, with thick, white blankets, so delicate that in spite of their
thickness they look as if they might float away of their own accord,
so light and fine do they appear. It was not blankets like these
that Captain Pedersen gave us; we should not have known what to do
with them if he had. The blankets the commissariat gave us were of an
entirely different sort. As to their colour -- well, I can only call
it indeterminable -- and they did not give one the impression that
they would float away either, if one let go of them. No, they would
keep on the ground right enough; they were felted and pressed together
into a thick, hard mass. From the dawn of time they had served our
brave warriors at sea, and it is by no means impossible that some of
them had gruesome stories to tell of the days of Tordenskjold. The
first thing I did, on obtaining possession of these treasures, was
to get them into the dyeing-vat. They were unrecognizable when I
got them back -- in ultramarine blue, or whatever it was called. The
metamorphosis was complete: their warlike past was wiped out.
My intention was to have these two hundred blankets made into Polar
clothing, and I took counsel with myself how I might get this done. To
disclose the origin of the stuff would be an unfortunate policy. No
tailor in the world would make clothes out of old blankets, I was
pretty sure of that. I had to hit upon some stratagem. I heard of
a man who was a capable worker at his trade, and asked him to come
and see me. My office looked exactly like a woollen warehouse, with
blankets everywhere. The tailor arrived. "Was that the stuff?" "Yes,
that was it. Just imported from abroad. A great bargain. A lot of
samples dirt cheap." I had put on my most innocent and unconcerned
expression. I saw the tailor glance at me sideways; I suppose he
thought the samples were rather large. "A closely woven stuff,"
said he, holding it up to the light. "I could almost swear it was
'felted.'" We went carefully through every single sample, and took
the number. It was a long and tedious business, and I was glad when
I saw that at last we were nearing the end. Over in a corner there
lay a few more; we had reached the one hundred and ninety-third, so
there could not be many in the pile. I was occupied with something
else, and the tailor went through the remainder by himself. I was
just congratulating myself on the apparently fortunate result of the
morning's work when I was startled by an exclamation from the man
in the corner. It sounded like the bellow of a mad bull. Alas! there
stood the tailor enveloped in ultramarine, and swinging over his head
a blanket, the couleur changeante of which left no doubt as to the
origin of the "directly imported" goods. With a look of thunder the man
quitted me, and I sank in black despair. I never saw him again. The
fact was that in my hurry I had forgotten the sample blanket that
Captain Pedersen had sent me. That was the cause of the catastrophe.
Well, I finally succeeded in getting the work executed, and it is
certain that no expedition has ever had warmer and stronger clothing
than this. It was in great favour on board.
I also thought it best to provide good oilskins, and especially
good sea-boots for every man. The sea-boots were therefore made to
measure, and of the very best material. I had them made by the firm
I have always regarded as the best in that branch. How, then, shall
I describe our grief when, on the day we were to wear our beautiful
sea-boots, we discovered that most of them were useless? Some of the
men could dance a hornpipe in theirs without taking the boots off
the deck. Others, by exerting all their strength, could not squeeze
their foot through the narrow way and reach paradise. The leg was so
narrow that even the most delicate little foot could not get through
it, and to make up for this the foot of the boot was so huge that
it could comfortably accommodate twice as much as its owner could
show. Very few were able to wear their boots. We tried changing,
but that was no use; the boots were not made for any creatures of
this planet. But sailors are sailors wherever they may be; it is not
easy to beat them. Most of them knew the proverb that one pair of
boots that fit is better than ten pairs that you can't put on, and
had brought their own with them. And so we got out of that difficulty.
We took three sets of linen underclothing for every man, to wear
in the warm regions. This part of the equipment was left to each
individual; most men possess a few old shirts, and not much more is
wanted through the tropics. For the cold regions there were two sets
of extra thick woollen underclothing, two thick hand-knitted woollen
jerseys, six pairs of knitted stockings, Iceland and other lighter
jackets, socks and stockings from the penitentiary.
Besides these we had a quantity of clothing from the army depots. I
owe many thanks to General Keilhau for the kind way in which he fell
in with all my wishes. From this quarter we obtained outer clothing for
both cold and warm climates, underclothes, boots, shoes, wind-clothing,
and cloths of different kinds.
As the last item of our personal equipment I may mention that each
man had a suit of sealskin from Greenland. Then there were such things
as darning-wool, sewing-yarn, needles of all possible sizes, buttons,
scissors, tapes -- broad and narrow, black and white, blue and red. I
may safely assert that nothing was forgotten; we were well and amply
equipped in every way.
Another side of our preparations which claimed some attention was
the fitting up of the quarters we were to inhabit, the saloons and
cabins. What an immense difference it makes if one lives in comfortable
surroundings. For my part, I can do twice the amount of work when I
see tidiness and comfort around me. The saloons on the Fram were very
handsomely and tastefully fitted. Here we owe, in the first place, our
respectful thanks to King Haakon and Queen Maud for the photographs
they presented to us; they were the most precious of our gifts. The
ladies of Horten gave us a number of pretty things for decorating the
cabins, and they will no doubt be glad to hear of the admiration they
aroused wherever we went. "Is this really a Polar ship?" people asked;
"we expected to see nothing but wooden benches and bare walls." And
they began to talk about "boudoirs" and things of that sort. Besides
splendid embroideries, our walls were decorated with the most wonderful
photographs; it would have rejoiced the giver of these to hear all
the words of praise that have been bestowed upon them.
The sleeping quarters I left to individual taste: every man could
take a bit of his home in his own little compartment. The bedclothes
came from the naval factory at Horten; they were first-class work,
like everything else that came from there. We owe our best thanks to
the giver of the soft blankets that have so often been our joy and
put warmth into us after a bitter day; they came from a woollen mill
at Trondhjem.
I must also mention our paper-supply, which was in all respects as fine
and elegant as it could possibly be: the most exquisite notepaper,
stamped with a picture of the Fram and the name of the expedition,
in large and small size, broad and narrow, old style and new style --
every kind of notepaper, in fact. Of pens and penholders, pencils,
black and coloured, india-rubber, Indian ink, drawing-pins and
other kinds of pins, ink and ink-powder, white chalk and red chalk,
gum arabic and other gums, date-holders and almanacs, ship's logs
and private diaries, notebooks and sledging diaries, and many other
things of the same sort, we have such a stock that we shall be able to
circumnavigate the earth several times more before running short. This
gift does honour to the firm which sent it; every time I have sent
a letter or written in my diary, I have had a grateful thought for
the givers.
From one of the largest houses in Christiania we had a complete set
of kitchen utensils and breakfast and dinner services, all of the
best kind. The cups, plates, knives, forks, spoons, jugs, glasses,
etc., were all marked with the ship's name.
We carried an extraordinarily copious library; presents of books were
showered upon us in great quantities. I suppose the Fram's library
at the present moment contains at least 3,000 volumes.
For our entertainment we also had a good many different games. One
of these became our favourite pastime in leisure evenings down in
the South. Packs of cards we had by the dozen, and many of them have
already been well used. A gramophone with a large supply of records
was, I think, our best friend. Of musical instruments we had a piano,
a violin, a flute, mandolins, not forgetting a mouth-organ and an
accordion. All the publishers had been kind enough to send us music,
so that we could cultivate this art as much as we wished.
Christmas presents streamed in from all sides; I suppose we had about
five hundred on board. Christmas-trees and decorations for them,
with many other things to amuse us at Christmas, were sent with us
by friends and acquaintances. People have indeed been kind to us,
and I can assure the givers that all their presents have been, and
are still, much appreciated.
We were well supplied with wines and spirits, thanks to one of the
largest firms of wine-merchants in Christiania. An occasional glass of
wine or a tot of spirits were things that we all, without exception,
were very glad of. The question of alcohol on Polar expeditions has
often been discussed. Personally, I regard alcohol, used in moderation,
as a medicine in the Polar regions -- I mean, of course, so long as
one is in winter quarters. It is another matter on sledge journeys:
there we all know from experience that alcohol must be banished --
not because a drink of spirits can do any harm, but on account of
the weight and space. On sledging journeys one has, of course, to
save weight as much as possible, and to take only what is strictly
necessary; and I do not include alcohol under the head of strictly
necessary things. Nor was it only in winter quarters that we had use
for alcohol, but also on the long, monotonous voyage through raw, cold,
and stormy regions. A tot of spirits is often a very good thing when
one goes below after a bitter watch on deck and is just turning in. A
total abstainer will no doubt turn up his nose and ask whether a cup
of good warm coffee would not do as well. For my part, I think the
quantity of coffee people pour into themselves at such times is far
more harmful than a little Lysholmer snaps. And think of the important
part a glass of wine or toddy plays in social gatherings on such a
voyage. Two men who have fallen out a little in the course of the week
are reconciled at once by the scent of rum; the past is forgotten,
and they start afresh in friendly co-operation. Take alcohol away from
these little festivities, and you will soon see the difference. It is
a sad thing, someone will say, that men absolutely must have alcohol to
put them in a good humour -- and I am quite ready to agree. But seeing
that our nature is what it is, we must try to make the best of it. It
seems as though we civilized human beings must have stimulating drinks,
and that being so, we have to follow our own convictions. I am for a
glass of toddy. Let who will eat plum-cake and swill hot coffee --
heartburn and other troubles are often the result of this kind of
refreshment. A little toddy doesn't hurt anybody.
The consumption of alcohol on the Fram's third voyage was as follows:
One dram and fifteen drops at dinner on Wednesdays and Sundays,
and a glass of toddy on Saturday evenings. On holidays there was an
additional allowance.
We were all well supplied with tobacco and cigars from various firms
at home and abroad. We had enough cigars to allow us one each on
Saturday evenings and after dinner on Sundays.
Two Christiania manufacturers sent us their finest bonbons and drops,
and a foreign firm gave us "Gala Peter," so that it was no rare thing
to see the Polar explorers helping themselves to a sweetmeat or a
piece of chocolate. An establishment at Drammen gave us as much fruit
syrup as we could drink, and if the giver only knew how many times
we blessed the excellent product he supplied, I am sure he would be
pleased. On the homeward march from the Pole we looked forward every
day to getting nearer to our supply of syrup.
From three different firms in Christiania we received all our
requirements in the way of cheese, biscuits, tea, sugar, and
coffee. The packing of the last-named was so efficient that, although
the coffee was roasted, it is still as fresh and aromatic as the day
it left the warehouse. Another firm sent us soap enough for five
years, and one uses a good deal of that commodity even on a Polar
voyage. A man in Christiania had seen to the care of our skin, hair,
and teeth, and it is not his fault if we have not delicate skins,
abundant growth of hair, and teeth like pearls, for the outfit was
certainly complete enough.
An important item of the equipment is the medical department, and
here my advisers were Dr. Jacob Roll and Dr. Holth; therefore nothing
was wanting. A chemist in Christiania supplied all the necessary
medicines as a contribution, carefully chosen, and beautifully
arranged. Unfortunately no doctor accompanied the expedition, so that
I was obliged to take all the responsibility myself.
Lieutenant Gjertsen, who had a pronounced aptitude both for drawing
teeth and amputating legs, went through a "lightning course" at the
hospital and the dental hospital. He clearly showed that much may be
learnt in a short time by giving one's mind to it. With surprising
rapidity and apparent confidence Lieutenant Gjertsen disposed of the
most complicated cases -- whether invariably to the patient's advantage
is another question, which I shall leave undecided. He drew teeth
with a dexterity that strongly reminded one of the conjurer's art;
one moment he showed an empty pair of forceps, the next there was a
big molar in their grip. The yells one heard while the operation was
in progress seemed to indicate that it was not entirely painless.
A match factory gave us all the safety matches we wanted. They were
packed so securely that we could quite well have towed the cases
after us in the sea all the way, and found the matches perfectly dry
on arrival. We had a quantity of ammunition and explosives. As the
whole of the lower hold was full of petroleum, the Fram had a rather
dangerous cargo on board. We therefore took all possible precautions
against fire; extinguishing apparatus was fitted in every cabin and
wherever practicable, and pumps with hose were always in readiness
on deck.
The necessary ice-tools, such as saws from 2 to 6 metres long,
ice-drills, etc., were not forgotten.
We had a number of scientific instruments with us. Professors Nansen
and Helland-Hansen had devoted many an hour to our oceanographical
equipment, which was therefore a model of what such an equipment
should be. Lieutenants Prestrud and Gjertsen had both gone through the
necessary course in oceanography under Helland-Hansen at the Bergen
biological station. I myself had spent a summer there, and taken part
in one of the oceanographical courses. Professor Helland-Hansen was a
brilliant teacher; I am afraid I cannot assert that I was an equally
brilliant pupil.
Professor Mohn had given us a complete meteorological outfit. Among the
instruments belonging to the Fram I may mention a pendulum apparatus,
an excellent astronomical theodolite, and a sextant. Lieutenant
Prestrud studied the use of the pendulum apparatus under Professor
Schiotz and the use of the astronomical theodolite under Professor
Geelmuyden. We had in addition several sextants and artificial
horizons, both glass and mercury. We had binoculars of all sizes,
from the largest to the smallest.
So far I have been dealing with our general outfit, and shall now pass
to the special equipment of the shore party. The hut we took out was
built on my property on Bundefjord, so that I was able to watch the
work as it progressed. It was built by the brothers Hans and Jörgen
Stubberud, and was throughout a splendid piece of work, which did
honour to both the brothers. The materials proved excellent in every
way. The hut was 26 feet long by 13 feet wide; its height from the
floor to the ridge of the roof was about 12 feet. It was built as an
ordinary Norwegian house, with pointed gable, and had two rooms. One
of these was 19 1/2 feet long, and was to serve as our dormitory,
dining-room, and sitting-room; the other room was 6 1/2 feet long,
and was to be Lindström's kitchen. From the kitchen a double trap-door
led to the loft, where we intended to keep a quantity of provisions and
outfit. The walls consisted of 3-inch planks, with air space between;
panels outside and inside, with air space between them and the plank
walling. For insulation we used cellulose pulp. The floor and the
ceiling between the rooms and the loft were double, while the upper
roof was single. The doors were extraordinarily thick and strong, and
fitted into oblique grooves, so that they closed very tightly. There
were two windows -- a triple one in the end wall of the main room,
and a double one in the kitchen. For the covering of the roof we
took out roofing-paper, and for the floor linoleum. In the main room
there were two air-pipes, one to admit fresh air, the other for the
exhaust. There were bunks for ten men in two stages, six on one wall
and four on the other. The furniture of the room consisted of a table,
a stool for each man, and a Lux lamp.
One half of the kitchen was occupied by the range, the other by shelves
and cooking utensils. The hut was tarred several times, and every part
was carefully marked, so that it could easily be set up. To fasten it
to the ground and prevent the Antarctic storms from blowing it away I
had strong eyebolts screwed into each end of the roof-ridge and the
four corners of the roof; we carried six strong eyebolts, a metre
long, to be rammed into the barrier; between these bolts and those
on the hut, steel wires were to be stretched, which could be drawn
quite tight. We also had two spare cables, which could be stretched
over the roof if the gales were too severe. The two ventilating pipes
and the chimney were secured outside with strong stays.
As will be seen, every precaution was taken to make the hut warm and
comfortable, and to hold it down on the ground. We also took on board
a quantity of loose timber, boards and planks.
Besides the hut we took with us fifteen tents for sixteen men each. Ten
of these were old, but good; they were served out to us from the naval
stores; the other five were new, and we bought them from the army
depots. It was our intention to use the tents as temporary houses;
they were easily and quickly set up, and were strong and warm. On the
voyage to the South Rönne sewed new floors of good, strong canvas to
the five new tents.
All cases of provisions that were intended for winter quarters were
marked and stowed separately in the hold in such a way that they
could be put out on to the ice at once.
We had ten sledges made by a firm of sporting outfitters in
Christiania. They were built like the old Nansen sledges, but rather
broader, and were 12 feet long. The runners were of the best American
hickory, shod with steel. The other parts were of good, tough Norwegian
ash. To each sledge belonged a pair of spare runners, which could
easily be fitted underneath by means of clamps, and as easily removed
when not required. The steel shoeing of the runners was well coated
with red lead, and the spare runners with tar. These sledges were
extremely strongly built, and could stand all kinds of work on every
sort of surface. At that time I did not know the conditions on the
Barrier as I afterwards came to know them. Of course, these sledges
were very heavy.
We took twenty pairs of ski, all of the finest hickory; they were
8 feet long, and proportionately narrow. I chose them of this length
with a view to being able to cross the numerous cracks in the glaciers;
the greater the surface over which the weight could be distributed, the
better prospect we should have of slipping over the snow-bridges. We
had forty ski-poles, with ebonite points. The ski-bindings were a
combination of the Huitfeldt and the Höyer Ellefsen bindings. We also
had quantities of loose straps.
We had six three-man tents, all made in the navy workshops. The
workmanship could not have been better; they were the strongest and
most practical tents that have ever been used. They were made of the
closest canvas, with the floor in one piece. One man was sufficient to
set up the tent in the stiffest breeze; I have come to the conclusion
that the fewer poles a tent has, the easier it is to set up, which
seems quite natural. These tents have only one pole. How often one
reads in narratives of Polar travel that it took such and such a time
-- often hours -- to set up the tent, and then, when at last it was
up, one lay expecting it to be blown down at any moment. There was
no question of this with our tents. They were up in a twinkling,
and stood against all kinds of wind; we could lie securely in our
sleeping-bags, and let it blow.
The arrangement of the door was on the usual sack principle, which is
now recognized as the only serviceable one for the Polar regions. The
sack patent is quite simple, like all patents that are any good. You
cut an opening in the tent of the size you wish; then you take a sack,
which you leave open at both ends, and sew one end fast round the
opening of the tent. The funnel formed by the open sack is then the
entrance. When you have come in, you gather up the open end of the
funnel or sack, and tie it together. Not a particle of snow can get
into a tent with the floor sewed on and an entrance of this kind,
even in the worst storm.
The cases for sledging provisions were made of fairly thin, tough ash,
which came from the estate of Palsgaard in Jutland, and the material
did all it promised. These cases were 1 foot square and 15 1/2 inches
high. They had only a little round opening on the top, closed with an
aluminium lid, which fitted exactly like the lid of a milk-can. Large
lids weaken the cases, and I had therefore chosen this form. We did
not have to throw off the lashing of the case to get the lid off,
and this is a very great advantage; we could always get at it. A case
with a large lid, covered by the lashing, gives constant trouble;
the whole lashing has to be undone for every little thing one wants
out of the case. This is not always convenient; if one is tired and
slack, it may sometimes happen that one will put off till to-morrow
what ought to be done to-day, especially when it is bitterly cold. The
handier one's sledging outfit, the sooner one gets into the tent and
to rest, and that is no small consideration on a long journey.
Our outfit of clothing was abundant and more complete, I suppose, than
that of any former Polar expedition. We may divide it into two classes,
the outfit for specially low temperatures and that for more moderate
temperatures. It must be remembered that no one had yet wintered on
the Barrier, so we had to be prepared for anything. In order to be
able to grapple with any degree of cold, we were supplied with the
richest assortment of reindeer-skin clothing; we had it specially
thick, medium, and quite light. It took a long time to get these
skin clothes prepared. First the reindeer-skins had to be bought
in a raw state, and this was done for me by Mr. Zappfe at Tromsö,
Karasjok, and Kaatokeino. Let me take the opportunity of thanking
this man for the many and great services he has rendered me, not
only during my preparations for the third voyage of the Fram, but
in the fitting out of the Gjöa expedition as well. With his help
I have succeeded in obtaining things that I should otherwise never
have been able to get. He shrank from no amount of work, but went
on till he had found what I wanted. This time he procured nearly
two hundred and fifty good reindeer-skins, dressed by the Lapps,
and sent them to Christiania. Here I had great trouble in finding
a man who could sew skins, but at last I found one. We then went
to work to make clothes after the pattern of the Netchelli Eskimo,
and the sewing went on early and late -- thick anoraks and thin ones,
heavy breeches and light, winter stockings and summer stockings. We
also had a dozen thin sleeping-bags, which I thought of using inside
the big thick ones if the cold should be too severe. Everything was
finished, but not until the last moment. The outer sleeping-bags were
made by Mr. Brandt, furrier, of Bergen, and they were so excellent,
both in material and making-up, that no one in the world could
have done better; it was a model piece of work. To save this outer
sleeping-bag, we had it provided with a cover of the lightest canvas,
which was a good deal longer than the bag itself. It was easy to tie
the end of the cover together like the mouth of the sack, and this kept
the snow out of the bag during the day's march. In this way we always
kept ourselves free from the annoyance of drifting snow. We attached
great importance to having the bags made of the very best sort of skin,
and took care that the thin skin of the belly was removed. I have seen
sleeping-bags of the finest reindeer-skin spoilt in a comparatively
short time if they contained a few patches of this thin skin, as
of course the cold penetrates more easily through the thin skin,
and gives rise to dampness in the form of rime on meeting the warmth
of the body. These thin patches remain damp whenever one is in the
bag, and in a short time they lose their hair. The damp spreads,
like decay in wood, and continually attacks the surrounding skin,
with the result that one fine day you find yourself with a hairless
sleeping-bag. One cannot be too careful in the choice of skins. For
the sake of economy, the makers of reindeer-skin sleeping-bags are in
the habit of sewing them in such a way that the direction of the hair
is towards the opening of the bag. Of course this suits the shape of
the skins best, but it does not suit the man who is going to use the
bag. For it is no easy matter to crawl into a sleeping-bag which is
only just wide enough to allow one to get in, and if the way of the
hair is against one it is doubly difficult. I had them all made as
one-man bags, with lacing round the neck; this did not, of course,
meet with the approval of all, as will be seen later. The upper
part of this thick sleeping-bag was made of thinner reindeer-skin,
so that we might be able to tie it closely round the neck; the thick
skin will not draw so well and fit so closely as the thin.
Our clothing in moderate temperatures consisted of thick woollen
underclothing and Burberry windproof overalls. This underclothing
was specially designed for the purpose; I had myself watched the
preparation of the material, and knew that it contained nothing
but pure wool. We had overalls of two different materials: Burberry
"gabardine" and the ordinary green kind that is used in Norway in the
winter. For sledge journeys, where one has to save weight, and to work
in loose, easy garments, I must unhesitatingly recommend Burberry. It
is extraordinarily light and strong, and keeps the wind completely
out. For hard work I prefer the green kind. It keeps out the wind
equally well, but is heavier and more bulky, and less comfortable
to wear on a long march. Our Burberry wind-clothes were made in the
form of anorak (blouse) and trousers, both very roomy. The others
consisted of trousers and jacket with hood.
Our mits were for the most part such as one can buy in any shop; we
wanted nothing else in and around winter quarters. Outside the mits
we wore an outer covering of windproof material, so as not to wear
them out too quickly. These mits are not very strong, though they are
good and warm. Besides these, we had ten pairs of ordinary kid mits,
which were bought at a glove-shop in Christiania, and were practically
impossible to wear out. I wore mine from Framheim to the Pole and back
again, and afterwards on the voyage to Tasmania. The lining, of course,
was torn in places, but the seams of the mits were just as perfect as
the day I bought them. Taking into consideration the fact that I went
on ski the whole way and used two poles, it will be understood that
the mits were strongly made. We also had a number of woollen gloves,
which, curiously enough, the others greatly prized. For myself, I was
never able to wear such things; they simply freeze the fingers off me.
But most important of all is the covering of the feet, for the feet
are the most exposed members and the most difficult to protect. One
can look after the hands; if they grow cold it is easy to beat them
into warmth again. Not so with the feet; they are covered up in the
morning, and this is a sufficiently troublesome piece of work to make
one disinclined to undo it again until one is turning in. They cannot
be seen in the course of the day, and one has to depend entirely on
feeling; but feeling in this case often plays curious tricks. How
often has it happened that men have had their feet
frozen off without knowing it! For if they had known it, they could not
possibly have let it go so far. The fact is that in this case sensation
is a somewhat doubtful guide, for the feet lose all sensation. It
is true that there is a transitional stage, when one feels the
cold smarting in one's toes, and tries to get rid of it by stamping
the feet. As a rule this is successful; the warmth returns, or the
circulation is restored; but it occasionally happens that sensation is
lost at the very moment when these precautions are taken. And then one
must be an old hand to know what has happened. Many men conclude that,
as they no longer feel the unpleasant smarting sensation, all is well;
and at the evening inspection a frozen foot of tallow-like appearance
presents itself. An event of this kind may ruin the most elaborately
prepared enterprise, and it is therefore advisable in the matter of
feet to carry one's caution to lengths which may seem ridiculous.
Now, it is a fact that if one can wear soft foot-gear exclusively
the risk of frost-bite is far less than if one is compelled to wear
stiff boots; in soft foot-gear, of course, the foot can move far more
easily and keep warm. But we were to take ski and to get full use
out of them, so that in any case we had to have a stiff sole for the
sake of the bindings. It is of no use to have a good binding unless
you can use it in the right way. In my opinion, on a long journey
such as that we had before us, the ski must be perfectly steady. I
do not know anything that tires me more than a bad fastening -- that
is, one that allows the foot to shift in the binding. I want the
ski to be a part of oneself, so that one always has full command of
them. I have tried many patents, for I have always been afraid of a
stiff fastening in cold temperatures; but all these patents, without
exception, are worthless in the long-run. I decided this time to
try a combination of stiff and soft foot-gear, so that we could use
the splendid Huitfeldt-Höyer Ellefsen bindings; but this was no easy
matter. Of our whole outfit nothing caused me more worry or gave us
all more work in the course of the expedition than the stiff outer
covering which we had to have; but we solved the problem at last. I
applied to one of the leading makers of ski-boots in Christiania, and
explained the difficulty to him; fortunately I had found a man who
was evidently interested in the question. We agreed that he should
make a sample pair after the pattern of ski-boots. The sole was to
be thick and stiff -- for we had to be prepared to use crampons --
but the uppers as soft as possible. In order to avoid leather, which
usually becomes stiff and easily cracked in the cold, he was to use
a combination of leather and thin canvas for the uppers -- leather
nearest the sole, and canvas above it.
The measurements were taken from my foot, which is not exactly a
child's foot, with two pairs of reindeer-skin stockings on, and ten
pairs were made. I well remember seeing these boots in civilized
Christiania. They were exhibited in the bootmaker's windows -- I
used to go a long way round to avoid coming face to face with these
monsters in public. We are all a trifle vain, and dislike having our
own shortcomings shown up in electric light. If I had ever cherished
any illusions on the subject of "a dainty little foot," I am sure the
last trace of such vanity died out on the day I passed the shoemaker's
window and beheld my own boots. I never went that way again until
I was certain that the exhibition was closed. One thing is certain,
that the boots were a fine piece of workmanship. We shall hear later
on of the alterations they had to undergo before we at last made them
as large as we wanted, for the giant boots turned out much too small!
Among other equipment I must mention our excellent Primus cooking
apparatus. This all came complete from a firm in Stockholm. For cooking
on sledge journeys the Primus stove ranks above all others; it gives
a great deal of heat, uses little oil, and requires no attention --
advantages which are important enough anywhere, but especially when
sledging. There is never any trouble with this apparatus; it has come
as near perfection as possible. We took five Nansen cookers with
us. This cooker utilizes the heat more completely than any other;
but I have one objection to make to it -- it takes up space. We used
it on our depot journeys, but were unfortunately obliged to give it up
on the main southern journey. We were so many in a tent, and space was
so limited, that I dared not risk using it. If one has room enough,
it is ideal in my opinion.
We had with us ten pairs of snow-shoes and one hundred sets of
dog-harness of the Alaska Eskimo pattern. The Alaska Eskimo drive
their dogs in tandem; the whole pull is thus straight ahead in the
direction the sledge is going, and this is undoubtedly the best way of
utilizing the power. I had made up my mind to adopt the same system
in sledging on the Barrier. Another great advantage it had was that
the dogs would pass singly across fissures, so that the danger of
falling through was considerably reduced. The exertion of pulling is
also less trying with Alaska harness than with the Greenland kind,
as the Alaska harness has a shallow, padded collar, which is slipped
over the animal's head and makes the weight of the pull come on his
shoulders, whereas the Greenland harness presses on his chest. Raw
places, which occur rather frequently with the Greenland harness, are
almost entirely avoided with the other. All the sets of harness were
made in the navy workshops, and after their long and hard use they
are as good as ever. There could be no better recommendation than this.
Of instruments and apparatus for the sledge journeys we carried
two sextants, three artificial horizons, of which two were glass
horizons with dark glasses, and one a mercury horizon, and four spirit
compasses, made in Christiania. They were excellent little compasses,
but unfortunately useless in cold weather -- that is to say, when the
temperature went below -40° F.; at this point the liquid froze. I had
drawn the maker's attention to this beforehand and asked him to use as
pure a spirit as possible. What his object was I still do not know,
but the spirit he employed was highly dilute. The best proof of this
was that the liquid in our compasses froze before the spirits in a
flask. We were naturally inconvenienced by this. Besides these we had
an ordinary little pocket-compass, two pairs of binoculars, one by
Zeiss and the other by Goertz, and snow-goggles from Dr. Schanz. We
had various kinds of glasses for these, so that we could change when
we were tired of one colour. During the whole stay on the Barrier I
myself wore a pair of ordinary spectacles with yellow glasses of quite
a light tint. These are prepared by a chemical process in such a way
that they nullify the harmful colours in the sun's rays. How excellent
these glasses are appears clearly enough from the fact that I never
had the slightest touch of snow-blindness on the southern journey,
although the spectacles were perfectly open and allowed the light to
enter freely everywhere. It will perhaps be suggested that I am less
susceptible to this ailment than others, but I know from personal
experience that such is not the case. I have previously had several
severe attacks of snow-blindness.
We had two photographic cameras, an air thermometer, two aneroids with
altitude scale to 15,000 feet, and two hypsometers. The hypsometer
is only an instrument for determining the boiling-point, which gives
one the height above the sea. The method is both simple and reliable.
The medical stores for sledging were given by a London firm,
and the way in which the things were packed speaks for the whole
outfit. There is not a speck of rust on needles, scissors, knives,
or anything else, although they have been exposed to much damp. Our
own medical outfit, which was bought in Christiania, and according
to the vendor's statement unusually well packed, became in a short
time so damaged that the whole of it is now entirely spoilt.
The sledging provisions must be mentioned briefly. I have already
spoken of the pemmican. I have never considered it necessary to
take a whole grocer's shop with me when sledging; the food should be
simple and nourishing, and that is enough -- a rich and varied menu
is for people who have no work to do. Besides the pemmican, we had
biscuits, milk-powder, and chocolate. The biscuits were a present
from a well-known Norwegian factory, and did all honour to their
origin. They were specially baked for us, and were made of oatmeal with
the addition of dried milk and a little sugar; they were extremely
nourishing and pleasant to the taste. Thanks to efficient packing,
they kept fresh and crisp all the time. These biscuits formed a great
part of our daily diet, and undoubtedly contributed in no small degree
to the successful result. Milk-powder is a comparatively new commodity
with us, but it deserves to be better known. It came from the district
of Jæderen. Neither heat nor cold, dryness nor wet, could hurt it;
we had large quantities of it lying out in small, thin linen bags in
every possible state of the weather: the powder was as good the last
day as the first. We also took dried milk from a firm in Wisconsin;
this milk had an addition of malt and sugar, and was, in my opinion,
excellent; it also kept good the whole time. The chocolate came from
a world-renowned firm, and was beyond all praise. The whole supply
was a very acceptable gift.
We are bringing all the purveyors of our sledging provisions samples
of their goods that have made the journey to the South Pole and back,
in gratitude for the kind assistance they afforded us.