PREPARATIONS TO LEAVE THE ARCTIC COAST.--GREAT DANGER OF ENCOUNTERING
MELTING SNOW, OR RIVERS MADE DANGEROUS BY THE ICE BREAKING.--REINDEER
COME.--FAREWELL TO THE SEA LAPPS.--I LEAVE FOR MORE SOUTHERN LAND.
The advice the Sea Lapps had given me was not to be neglected, and I at
once made hasty preparations for my journey southward. There was not one
hour or one minute to be lost. I did not want to be caught in the midst
of vast tracts of half-melted snow, seven, eight, or ten feet deep, with
reindeer unable to travel further; or to drive over rivers and lakes
covered with treacherous ice, made the more dangerous by being hidden
under the snow--or, worst of all, to find no reindeer to carry me
onward; or delayed somewhere, waiting for the snow to melt and the land
to become dry and the rivers navigable, for during the time of thaw the
country is full of bogs and swamps, and the rivers become in many places
but roaring torrents, their waters dashing against huge boulders strewn
in their beds, or breaking over them in rapids and pouring cataracts.
My little sleigh, my skees, my bags, and winter outfits were landed, and
were before me. I left off my sou'wester and oilskin garments and
sea-boots, and I said to them: "We have had rough weather together on
this stormy Arctic sea. Henceforth I do not need you any more; I hope
you will keep the Sea Lapp to whom I give you as dry as you did me."
Then I donned my Lapp costume once more. Now the fur shoes of winter
were unsuitable to travel with, for being porous they are only good to
get over dry and crisp snow with. I had to wear henceforth the shoes or
boots that are without fur and the leather of which is prepared in such
a manner as to be impermeable to water or damp snow. I had provided
myself with two pairs of these, while at Haparanda on my way to "The
Land of the Long Night," for my return journey,--a short pair, of the
shape of the winter shoes, and a pair of boots coming as high as my
knees.
One of the Lapps smeared them with a preparation of tar and fat that he
used for his own shoes. When they were ready he said: "Now you are all
right, no dampness or water will penetrate them," and he gave me some of
the stuff to use on my journey, saying, "Rub your shoes every two days
with it." I thanked him. Then I put on a new pair of woollen socks. I
surrounded my feet with the Lapp grass, and wore my short boots.
While turning over in my mind the mishaps that might come to me on this
southward journey, I fancied the same friendly voices I had heard before
from across the Atlantic called to me: "Hurry on, Friend Paul! Hurry on!
for there is danger in delay; and when your journey is finished come
back to us at once."
"I will hurry on," I replied aloud. "Do not be afraid. I will return at
once to our dear United States." After this I was more impatient to
leave than before. I waited anxiously for the reindeer to arrive.
Henceforth I shall wear only one fur garment, instead of two as I did
during my journey northward, for the weather is getting warmer every
day. After I was dressed completely I looked affectionately at my little
sleigh, for I remembered the many hundreds of miles we had travelled
together, what fun I had had, and how hard it was at first to learn to
drive reindeer and to keep inside the sleigh, and all the sudden
upsettings I had.
Then I looked at my skees, and said: "Dear skees, we are again to tramp
over the snow together. I wish I could leap over chasms with you, as the
Lapps do. I cannot do that; but we will walk on the snow, and go down
hill riding a stick. This will be great fun for me anyhow."
Then I turned to the bags, and I said: "Dear bags, I have often thought
of you and how comfortable I was with you." I remembered how cosy I was
when I slept in them on the snow. I did not mind how hard the wind blew;
the harder it blew the more comfortable I felt inside of them. Near by
them was the big brown bearskin, which was safely fastened over me in
the sleigh. I said: "Dear bearskin, I think a great deal of you also,
for you have been my friend and have kept my legs so warm when I was
driving."
The next morning to my great joy the reindeer came,--one for me, one for
my guide, and a spare one; but how differently they looked compared with
those I had in the winter. They were thin, and were changing their
coats. I did not wonder that the poor reindeer did not look frisky--they
had had to work so hard for their living, digging the snow to reach the
moss during the whole of the winter.
I looked at the guide the kind Sea Lapps had provided for me. He was the
man who had come with the reindeer. His name was Mikel. He was a nomadic
Lapp, but had come to visit his sister, who had married a Sea Lapp. He
was about four feet eight inches in height, well built, broad
shouldered, nimble as a deer, about forty years old, with a face made by
the wind as red as a ripe tomato. He lived and pastured his herd of
reindeer south of Karesuando.
As we were introduced to each other we shook hands, and I said, "Mikel,
we are going to be friends."
"Yes," he replied, "we are to be friends."
Then all the Sea Lapps that were round us shouted with one voice:
"Paulus, we are all your friends! Mikel will take good care of you."
"I will," said Mikel. "I will take good care of Paulus." "Thank you,
Mikel," I replied. From that moment Mikel and I became fast friends.
An hour after the arrival of the reindeer and after a hearty meal of
codfish and black bread we were ready to start.
Before seating myself in the sleigh, I turned my face towards the North
Pole and looked at the Arctic Ocean beyond the fjord, and shouted:
"Farewell to thee! farewell, tempestuous Arctic Sea! farewell to thy
gales! farewell to thy snow and sleet storms. But I am glad I have been
through it all, for I have learned something I did not know before. I
have gained knowledge about the people and 'The Land of the Long
Night.'"
One of the Sea Lapps held my reindeer, and after I was seated another
drew my bearskin round me, and made it secure with the cord belonging to
my sleigh.
When Mikel saw that I was ready he jumped into his sleigh and we
started.
"Good-bye, good-bye, Paulus!" shouted all the Lapps.
"Good-bye, good-bye, dear Sea Lapps!"--I shouted back to them, and the
last words I heard were: "Lucky journey, Paulus, come to see us again,
come to see us again."