hour. We were now in the habit of living from catch to catch, filling up
on meat at the end of each successful hunt, and waiting for pot-luck for
the next meal. The sledges were too heavily loaded to carry additional
weight. Furthermore, the temperature was too low to split up frozen
meat. Indeed, most of our axes had been broken in trying to divide meat
as dog food. It was plainly an economy of axes and fuel to fill up on
warm meat as the skin was removed, and wait for the next plunder.
We had been two days without setting eyes on an appetizing meal of
steaming meat. Not a living speck had crossed our horizon; and,
therefore, when we noted the little cloud of steam rise from a side
hill, and guessed that under it were herds of musk ox, our palates
moistened with anticipatory joys. A camping place was sought. Two domes
of snow were erected as a shelter.
Through the glasses we counted twenty-one musk oxen. Some were digging
up snow to find willows; others were sleeping. All were unsuspecting.
After the experience we had in this kind of hunting, we confidently
counted the game as ours. A holiday was declared for the morrow, to
dispose of the surplus. Nourishment in prospect, one hundred dogs
started with a jump, under the lashes of ten Eskimos. Our sledges began
shooting the boreal shoots. After rushing over minor hills, the dog
noses sank into bear tracks. A little farther along, we realized we had
rivals. Two bears were far ahead, approaching the musk oxen.
The dogs scented their rivals. The increased bounding of the sledges
made looping-the-loop seem tame. But we were too late; the bears ran
into the bunch of animals, and spoiled our game with no advantage to
themselves. Giving a half-hearted chase, they rose to a bank of snow,
deliberately sat down, and turned to a position to give us the laugh.
The absence of musk ox did not slacken the pace of the dogs. The bears
were quick to see the force of our intent. They scattered and climbed. A
bear is an expert Alpinist; he requires no ice axe and no lantern. The
moon came out, and the snow slopes began to glare with an electric
incandescence.
In this pearly light, the white bear seemed black, and was easily
located. One bear slipped into a ravine and was lost. All attention was
now given to the other, which was ascending an icy ridge to a commanding
precipice. We cut the dogs from the sledges. They soared up the white
slope as if they had wings. The bear gained the crest in time to cuff
away each rising antagonist. The dogs tumbled over each other, down
several hundred feet into a soft snow-padded gully. Other dogs continued
to rise on the ridge to keep the bear guessing. The dogs in the pit
discovered a new route, and made a combined rear attack. Bruin was
surprised, and turned to face his enemies. Backing from a sudden
assault, he stepped over a precipice, and tumbled in a heap into the
dog-strewn pit. The battle was now on in full force. Finding four feet
more useful than one mouth, the bear turned on his back and sent his
paws out with telling effect. The dogs, although not giving up the
battle, scattered, for the swing of the creature's feet did not suit
their battle methods. Sitting on curled tails, they filled the air with
murderous howls and raised clouds of frozen breath in the flying snow.
We were on the scene at a safe distance, each with a tight grip on his
gun, expecting the bear to make a sudden plunge. But he was not given a
choice of movement, and we could not shoot into the darting pit of dogs
without injuring them. At this moment Ah-we-lah, youngest of the party,
advanced. Leaving his gun, he descended through the dog ranks into the
pit, with the spiked harpoon shaft. The bear threw back its head to meet
him. A score of dogs grabbed the bear's feet. Ah-we-lah raised his arm.
A sudden savage thrust sank the blunt steel into the bear's chest.
Cracking whips, we scattered the guarding dogs. The prize was quickly
divided.
On our advance to the Polar sea, I found that there is considerable art
in building snowhouses. The casual observer is likely to conclude that
it is an easy problem to pile up snow-blocks, dome-shaped, but to do
this properly, so that the igloo will withstand wind, requires adept
work. From the lessons of my companions in this art I now became more
alert to learn, knowing the necessity of protection on our Polar dash.
The first problem is to find proper snow. One has often to seek for
banks where the snow is just hard enough. If it is too hard, it cannot
be easily cut with knives. If it is too soft, the blocks will crush, and
cause the house to cave in. Long knives are the best instruments--one of
fifteen inches and another about ten. From sixty to seventy-five blocks,
fifteen by twenty-four inches, are required to make a house ten feet by
ten. The blocks are cut according to the snow, but fifteen by
twenty-four by eight inches is the best size.
The lower tiers of blocks are set in slight notches in the snow, to
prevent the blocks from slipping out. A slight tilt begins from the
first tiers; the next tier tilts still more, and so the next. The blocks
are set so that the upper blocks cover the breaks in the lower tier. The
fitting is done mostly with the blocks in position, the knife being
passed between the blocks to and fro, with a pressure on the blocks with
the other hand. The hardest task is to make the blocks stick without
holding in the upper tiers. This is done by deft cuts with the knife and
a slight thump of the blocks.
The dome is the most difficult part to build. In doing this all blocks
are leveled and carefully set to arch the roof.
When the structure is completed, a candle is lit and the cracks are
stuffed by cutting the edges off the nearest blocks, and pressing the
broken snow into the cracks with the mittens. After this process, the
interior arrangement is worked out. The foot space is first cut out in
blocks. If the snow is on a slope, as it often happens, these blocks are
raised and the upper slopes are cut down to a level plane.
The foot space is a very important matter, first for the comfort of
sitting, and also to let off the carbonic acid gas, which quickly
settles in these temperatures and extinguishes the fires. It, of course,
has also an important bearing on human breathing.
Inhalation of very cold air at this time forced an unconscious
expenditure of very much energy. The extent of this tax can be gauged
only by the enormous difference between the temperature of the body and
that of the air. One day it was -72 deg. F. The difference was, therefore,
170 deg.. It is hard to conceive of normal breathing under such
difficulties; but when properly clothed and fed, no great discomfort or
ill-effects are noted. The membranes of the air passages are, however,
overflushed with blood. The chest circulation is forced to its limits,
and the heart beats are increased and strengthened. The organs of
circulation and respiration, which do ninety per cent. of the work of
the body, are taxed with a new burden that must be counted in estimating
one's day's task. This loss of power in breathing extreme frost is
certain to reduce working time and bodily force.
The land whose coast we were following to the shores of the Polar sea is
part of the American hemisphere, and one of the largest islands of the
world, spreading 30 deg. longitude and rising 7 deg. of latitude. What is its
name? The question must remained unanswered, for it not only has no
general name, but numerous sections are written with names and outlines
that differ to a large extent with the caprice of the explorers who have
been there.
The south is called Lincoln Land; above it, Ellesmere Land. Then comes
Schley Land, Grinnell Land, Arthur Land, and Grant Land, with other
lands of later christening by Sverdrup and others.
No human beings inhabit the island. No nation assumes the responsibility
of claiming or protecting it. The Eskimo calls the entire country
Acpohon, or "the Land of Guillemots," which are found in great abundance
along the southeast point. I have, therefore, to avoid conflictions,
affixed the name of Acpohon as the general designation.
We had now advanced beyond the range of all primitive life. No human
voice broke the frigid silence. The Eskimos had wandered into the
opening of the musk ox pass. Sverdrup had mapped the channels of the
west coast. But here was no trace of modern or aboriginal residence.
There is no good reason why men should not have followed the musk oxen
here, but the nearest Eskimos on the American side are those on
Lancaster Sound.
I found an inspiration in being thus alone at the world's end. The
barren rocks, the wastes of snow-fields, the mountains stripped of
earlier ice-sheets, and every phase of the landscape, assured a new
interest. There was a note of absolute abandon on the part of nature. If
our own resources failed, or if a calamity overtook us, there would be
no trace to mark icy graves forever hidden from surviving loved ones.
My Eskimo comrades were enthusiastic explorers. The game trails gave a
touch of animation to their steps, which meant much to the progress of
the expedition. We not only saw musk oxen in large herds, but tracks of
bears and wolves were everywhere in line with our course. On the sea-ice
we noted many seal blow-holes. Already the natives talked of coming here
on the following year to cast their lot in the new wilds.
The picturesque headland of Schie we found to be a huge triassic rock of
the same general formation as that indicated along Eureka Sound. Its
west offered a series of grassy slopes bared by persistent winds, upon
which animal life found easy access to the winter-cured grass. A narrow
neck of land connected what seemed like an island with the main land.
Here caches of fur and fuel were left for the return. In passing Snag's
Fiord the formation changed. Here, for several marches, game was scarce.
The temperature rose as we neared the Polar sea. The snow became much
deeper but it was hardened by stronger winds and increased humidity.
High glacier-abandoned valleys with gradual slopes to the water's edge,
gave the Heiberg shores on Nansen Sound a different type of landscape
from that of the opposite shores. Here and there we found pieces of
lignite coal, and as we neared Svartevoeg the carboniferous formation
became more evident.
Camping in the lowlands just south of Svartevoeg Cliffs we secured seven
musk oxen and eighty-five hares. Here were immense fields of grass and
moss bared by persistent winter gales. By a huge indentation here,
through which we saw the sea-level ice of the west, the shores seemed to
indicate that the point of Heiberg is an island, but of this we were not
absolutely sure. To us it was a great surprise that here, on the shores
of the Polar sea, we found a garden spot of plant luxuriance and animal
delight. For this assured, in addition to the caches left en route, a
sure food supply for the return from our mission to the North.
THE TRANS-BOREAL DASH BEGINS
BY FORCED EFFORTS AND THE USE OF AXES SPEED IS MADE OVER THE
LAND--ADHERING PACK ICE OF POLAR SEA--THE MOST DIFFICULT TRAVEL OF THE
PROPOSED JOURNEY SUCCESSFULLY ACCOMPLISHED--REGRETFUL PARTING WITH THE
ESKIMOS
XIII
FIVE HUNDRED MILES FROM THE POLE
Svartevoeg is a great cliff, the northernmost point of Heiberg Land,
which leaps precipitously into the Polar sea. Its negroid face of black
scarred rocks frowns like the carven stone countenance of some hideously
mutilated and enraged Titan savage. It expresses, more than a human face
could, the unendurable sufferings of this region of frigid horrors. It
is five hundred and twenty miles from the North Pole.
From this point I planned to make my dash in as straight a route as
might be possible. Starting from our camp at Annoatok late in February,
when the curtain of night was just beginning to lift, when the chill of
the long winter was felt at its worst, we had forced progress through
deep snows, over land and frozen seas, braving the most furious storms
of the season and traveling despite baffling darkness, and had covered
in less than a month about four hundred miles--nearly half the distance
between our winter camp and the Pole.
Arriving at land's end my heart had cause for gratification. We had
weathered the worst storms of the year. The long bitter night had now
been lost. The days lengthened and invaded with glitter the decreasing
nights. The sun glowed more radiantly daily, rose higher and higher to a
continued afterglow in cheery blues, and sank for periods briefer and
briefer in seas of running color. Our hopes, like those of all mankind,
had risen with the soul-lifting sun. We had made our progress mainly at
the expense of the land which we explored, for the game en route had
furnished food and clothing.
The supplies we had brought with us from Annoatok were practically
untouched. We had stepped in overfed skins, were fired by a resolution
which was recharged by a strength bred of feeding upon abundant raw and
wholesome meat. Eating to repletion on unlimited game, our bodies were
kept in excellent trim by the exigencies of constant and difficult
traveling.
As a man's mental force is the result of yesteryears' upbuilding, so his
strength of to-day is the result of last week's eating. With the surge
of ambition which had been formulating for twenty years, and my body in
best physical shape for the supreme test, the Pole now seemed almost
near.
As the great cliffs of Svartevoeg rose before us my heart leaped. I felt
that the first rung in the ladder of success had been climbed, and as I
stood under the black cliffs of this earth's northernmost land I felt
that I looked through the eyes of long experience. Having reached the
end of Nansen Sound, with Svartevoeg on my left, and the tall, scowling
cliffs of Lands-Lokk on my right, I viewed for the first time the rough
and heavy ice of the untracked Polar sea, over which, knowing the
conditions of the sea ice, I anticipated the most difficult part of our
journey lay. Imagine before you fields of crushed ice, glimmering in the
rising sunlight with shooting fires of sapphire and green; fields which
have been slowly forced downward by strong currents from the north, and
pounded and piled in jagged mountainous heaps for miles about the land.
Beyond this difficult ice, as I knew, lay more even fields, over which
traveling, saving the delays of storms and open leads, would be
comparatively easy. To encompass this rough prospect was the next step
in reaching my goal. I felt that no time must be lost. At this point I
was now to embark upon the Polar sea; the race for my life's ambition
was to begin here; but first I had finally to resolve on the details of
my campaign.
I decided to reduce my party to the smallest possible number consistent
with the execution of the problem in hand. In addition, for greater
certainty of action over the unknown regions beyond, I now definitely
resolved to simplify the entire equipment. An extra sled was left at the
cache at this point to insure a good vehicle for our return in case the
two sleds which we were to take should be badly broken en route. I
decided to take only two men on the last dash. I had carefully watched
and studied every one of my party, and had already selected
E-tuk-i-shook and Ah-we-lah, two young Eskimos, each about twenty years
old, as best fitted to be my sole companions in the long run of destiny.
Twenty-six of the best dogs were picked, and upon two sleds were to be
loaded all our needs for a trip estimated to last eighty days.
To have increased this party would not have enabled us to carry supplies
for a greater number of days.
The sleds might have been loaded more heavily, but I knew this would
reduce the important progress of the first days.
With the character of ice which we had before us, advance stations were
impossible. A large expedition and a heavy equipment would have been
imprudent. We must win or lose in a prolonged effort at high pressure.
Therefore, absolute control and ease of adaptability to a changing
environment was imperative.
From past experience I knew it was impossible to control adequately the
complex human temperament of white men in the Polar wilderness. But I
felt certain the two Eskimo boys could be trusted to follow to the limit
of my own endurance. So our sleds were burdened only with absolute
necessaries.
Because of the importance of a light and efficient equipment, much care
had to be taken to reduce every ounce of weight. The sleds were made of
hickory, the lightest wood consistent with great endurance, and every
needless fibre was gouged out. The iron shoes were ground thin, and up
to the present had stood the test of half the Polar battle.
Eliminating everything not actually needed, but selecting adequate food,
I made the final preparations.
The camp equipment selected included the following articles: One blow
fire lamp (jeuel), three aluminum pails, three aluminum cups, three
aluminum teaspoons, one tablespoon, three tin plates, six pocket
knives, two butcher knives (ten inches), one saw knife (thirteen
inches), one long knife (fifteen inches), one rifle (Sharp's), one rifle
(Winchester .22), one hundred and ten cartridges, one hatchet, one
Alpine axe, extra line and lashings, and three personal bags.
The sled equipment consisted of two sleds weighing fifty-two pounds
each; one twelve-foot folding canvas boat, the wood of which formed part
of a sled; one silk tent, two canvas sled covers, two reindeer skin
sleeping bags, floor furs, extra wood for sled repairs, screws, nails
and rivets.
My instruments were as follows: One field glass; one pocket compass; one
liquid compass; one aluminum surveying compass, with azimuth attachment;
one French surveyor's sextant, with radius 71/2, divided on silver to
10', reading by Vernier to 10'' (among the extra attachments were a
terrestrial and an astronomical telescope, and an extra night telescope
mounted in aluminum, and also double refracting prisms, thermometers,
etc.--the instrument was made by Hurleman of France and bought of
Keuffel & Esser); one glass artificial horizon; three Howard pocket
chronometers; one Tiffany watch; one pedometer; map-making material and
instruments; three thermometers; one aneroid barometer; one camera and
films; notebook and pencils.
The personal bags contained four extra pairs of kamiks, with fur
stockings, a woolen shirt, three pairs of sealskin mittens, two pairs of
fur mittens, a piece of blanket, a sealskin coat (netsha), extra fox
tails and dog harness, a repair kit for mending clothing, and much other
necessary material.
On the march we wore snow goggles, blue fox coats (kapitahs) and
birdskin shirts (Ah-tea), bearskin pants (Nan-nooka), sealskin boots
(Kam-ik), hare-skin stockings (Ah-tee-shah), and a band of fox tails
under the knee and about the waist.
The food supply, as will be seen by the following list, was mostly
pemmican:
Eight hundred and five pounds of beef pemmican, one hundred and thirty
pounds of walrus pemmican, fifty pounds of musk ox tenderloin,
twenty-five pounds of musk ox tallow, two pounds of tea, one pound of
coffee, twenty-five pounds of sugar, forty pounds of condensed milk,
sixty pounds of milk biscuit, ten pounds of pea soup powdered and
compressed, fifty pounds of surprises, forty pounds petroleum, two
pounds of wood alcohol, three pounds of candles and one pound of
matches.
We planned our future food supply with pemmican as practically the sole
food; the other things were to be mere palate satisfiers. For the eighty
days the supply was to be distributed as follows:
For three men: Pemmican, one pound per day for eighty days, two hundred
and forty pounds. For six dogs: Pemmican, one pound per day for eighty
days, four hundred and eighty pounds. This necessitated a total of seven
hundred and twenty pounds of pemmican.
Of the twenty-six dogs, we had at first figured on taking sixteen over
the entire trip to the Pole and back to our caches on land, but in this
last calculation only six were to be taken. Twenty, the least useful,
were to be used one after the other, as food on the march, as soon as
reduced loads and better ice permitted. This, we counted, would give one
thousand pounds of fresh meat over and above our pemmican supply. We
carried about two hundred pounds of pemmican above the expected
consumption, and in the final working out the dogs were used for
traction purposes longer than we anticipated. But, with a cautious
saving, the problem was solved somewhat more economically than any
figuring before the start indicated.
Every possible article of equipment was made to do double service; not
an ounce of dead weight was carried which could be dispensed with.
After making several trips about Svartevoeg, arranging caches for the
return, studying the ice and land, I decided to make the final start on
the Polar sea on March 18, 1908.
The time had come to part with most of our faithful Eskimo companions.
Taking their hands in my manner of parting, I thanked them as well as I
could for their faithful service to me. "_Tigishi ah yaung-uluk!_" (The
big nail!), they replied, wishing me luck.
Then, in a half gale blowing from the northwest and charged with snow,
they turned their backs upon me and started upon the return track. They
carried little but ammunition, because we had learned that plenty of
game was to be provided along the return courses.
Even after they were out of sight in the drifting snowstorm their voices
came cheerily back to me. The faithful savages had followed me until
told that I could use them no longer; and it was not only for their
simple pay of knives and guns, but because of a real desire to be
helpful. Their parting enforced a pang of loneliness.[10]
With a snow-charged blast in our faces it was impossible for us to start
immediately after the Eskimos returned. Withdrawing to the snow igloo,
we entered our bags and slept a few hours longer. At noon the horizon
cleared. The wind veered to the southwest and came with an endurable
force. Doubly rationed the night before, the dogs were not to be fed
again for two days. The time had come to start. We quickly loaded our
sleds. Hitching the dogs, we let the whips fall, and with bounds they
leaped around deep ice grooves in the great paleocrystic floes.
Our journey was begun. Swept of snow by the force of the preceding
storm, the rough ice crisply cracked under the swift speed of our sleds.
Even on this uneven surface the dogs made such speed that I kept ahead
of them only with difficulty. Their barking pealed about us and
re-echoed from the black cliffs behind. Dashing about transparent
ultramarine gorges, and about the base of miniature mountains of ice, we
soon came into a region of undulating icy hills. The hard irregularity
of the ice at times endangered our sleds. We climbed over ridges like
walls. We jumped dangerous crevasses, keeping slightly west by north;
the land soon sank in the rear of us. Drifting clouds and wind-driven
snows soon screened the tops of black mountains. Looking behind, I saw
only a swirling, moving scene of dull white and nebulous gray. On every
side ice hummocks heaved their backs and writhed by. Behind me followed
four snugly loaded sleds, drawn by forty-four selected dogs, under the
lash of four expert Eskimo drivers. The dogs pranced; the joyous cries
of the natives rose and fell. My heart leaped; my soul sang. I felt my
blood throb with each gallop of the leaping dog teams. The sound of
their feet pattering on the snow, the sight of their shaggy bodies
tossing forward, gave me joy. For every foot of ice covered, every
minute of constant action, drew me nearer, ever nearer, to my goal.
Our first run was auspicious; it seemed to augur success. By the time we
paused to rest we had covered twenty-six miles.
We pitched camp on a floeberg of unusual height; about us were many big
hummocks, and to the lee of these banks of hardened snow. Away from land
it is always more difficult to find snow suitable for cutting building
blocks. There, however, was an abundance. We busily built, in the course
of an hour, a comfortable snow igloo. Into it we crept, grateful for
shelter from the piercing wind.