SLEDGING TO CAPE COLUMBIA--HOT SOLDERING IN COLD WEATHER
If you will get out your geography and turn to the map of the Western
Hemisphere you will be able to follow me. Take the seventieth meridian,
west. It is the major meridian of the Western Hemisphere, its northern
land extremity being Cape Columbia, Grant Land; southward it crosses our
own Cape Cod and the island of Santo Domingo, and runs down through the
Andes to Cape Horn, the southern extremity of South America.
The seventieth meridian was our pathway to the Pole, based on the west
longitude of 70°. Both Professor Marvin and Captain Bartlett took their
observations at their respective farthests, and at the Pole, where all
meridians meet, Commander Peary took his elevations of the sun, based on
the local time of the Columbian meridian.
Cape Columbia was discovered over fifty years ago, by the intrepid
Captain Hall, who gave his life to Arctic exploration, and lies buried
on the Greenland coast. From the time of the arrival of the _Roosevelt_
at Cape Sheridan, the previous September, communications with Cape
Columbia were opened up, the trail was made and kept open all through
the winter by constant travel between the ship and the cape. Loads of
supplies, in anticipation of the start for the Pole, were sledged there.
The route to Cape Columbia is through a region of somber magnificence.
Huge beetling cliffs overlook the pathway; dark savage headlands, around
which we had to travel, project out into the ice-covered waters of the
ocean, and vast stretches of wind-swept plains meet the eye in alternate
changes. From Cape Sheridan to Cape Columbia is a distance of
ninety-three miles. In ordinary weather, it took about three and a half
marches, although on the return from the Pole it was covered in two
marches, men and dogs breezing in.
On February 18, 1909, I left the _Roosevelt_ on what might be a
returnless journey. The time to strike had come. Captain Bartlett and
Dr. Goodsell had already started. The Commander gave me strict orders to
the effect that I must get to Porter Bay, pick up the cache of alcohol
left there late in the previous week, solder up the leaks, and take it
to Cape Columbia, there to await his arrival. The cause of the
alcohol-leakage was due to the jolting of the sledges over the rough
ice, puncturing the thin tin of the alcohol-cases.
I wish you could have seen me soldering those tins, under the conditions
of darkness, intense cold, and insufficient furnace arrangement I had to
endure. If there ever was a job for a demon in Hades, that was it. I
vividly recall it. At the same instant I was in imminent danger of
freezing to death and being burned alive; and the mental picture of
those three fur-clad men, huddled around the little oil-stove heating
the soldering-iron, and the hot solder dripping on the tin, is amusing
now; but we were anything but amused then. The following is transcribed
from my diary:
February 18, 1909: Weather clear, temperature 28° at five A. M. We were
ready to leave the ship at seven-thirty A. M., but a blinding gale
delayed our start until nine A. M. Two parties have left for Columbia:
Professor MacMillan, three boys, four sledges, and twenty-four dogs; and
my party of three boys and the same outfit. Each sledge is loaded with
about two hundred and fifty pounds of provisions, consisting of
pemmican, biscuits, tea, and alcohol. The Arctic night still holds sway,
but to-day at noon, far to the south, a thin band of twilight shows,
giving promise of the return of the sun, and every day now will increase
in light. Heavy going to Porter Bay, where we are to spend the night,
and as soon as rested start to work soldering up the thirty-six leaky
alcohol tins left there by George Borup last week. Professor MacMillan
and his party have not shown up yet. They dropped behind at Cape
Richardson and we are keeping a watch for them. Snow still drifting and
the wind howling like old times. Have had our evening meal of
travel-rations; pemmican, biscuits, and tea and condensed milk, which
was eaten with a relish. Two meals a day now, and big work between
meals. No sign of Professor MacMillan and his crew, so we are going to
turn in. The other igloo is waiting for him and the storm keeps up.
February 19, 1909: It was six A. M. when I routed out the boys for
breakfast. I am writing while the tea is brewing. Had a good sleep last
night when I did get to sleep. Snoring, talk about snoring! Sleeping
with Esquimos on either side, who have already fallen asleep, is
impossible. The only way to get asleep is to wake them up, get them good
and wide-awake, inquire solicitously as to their comfort, and before
they can get to sleep fall asleep yourself. After that, their rhythmic
snores will only tend to soothe and rest you.
Worked all day soldering the tins of alcohol, and a very trying job it
was. I converted the oil-stove into an alcohol-burner, and used it to
heat the irons. It took some time for me to gauge properly the height
above the blue flame of the alcohol at which I would get the best
results in heating the irons, but at last we found it. A cradle-shaped
support made from biscuit-can wire was hung over the flame about an inch
above it, and while the boys heated the irons, I squatted on my knees
with a case of alcohol across my lap and got to work. I had watched Mr.
Wardwell aboard the ship solder up the cases and I found that watching a
man work, and doing the same thing yourself, were two different matters.
I tried to work with mittens on; I tried to work with them off. As soon
as my bare fingers would touch the cold metal of the tins, they would
freeze, and if I attempted to use the mittens they would singe and burn,
and it was impossible to hold the solder with my bearskin gloves on. But
keeping everlastingly at it brings success, and with the help of the
boys the work was slowly but surely done.
Early this evening Professor MacMillan and his caravan arrived. He
complimented me on the success of my work and informed me that they
camped at Cape Richardson last night and that the trail had been pretty
well blown over by the storm, but that the sledge-tracks were still to
be seen. Dead tired, but not cold or uncomfortable. The stew is ready
and so am I. Goodnight!
February 20: Wind died down, sky clear, and weather cold as usual. Our
next point is Sail Harbor and after breakfast we set out. The Professor
has asked me the most advisable way; whether to keep to the sea-ice or
go overland, and we have agreed to follow the northern route, overland
across Fielden Peninsula, using Peary's Path. By this route we estimate
a saving of eight miles of going, and we will hit the beach at James
Ross Bay.
Five P. M.: Sail Harbor. Stopped writing to eat breakfast, and then we
loaded up and started. Reached here about an hour ago and from the fresh
tracks in the snow, the Captain's or the Doctor's party have just
recently left. It was evidently Doctor Goodsell and his crew who were
here last; for Captain Bartlett left the _Roosevelt_ on February 15 and
the Doctor did not leave until the 16th. The going has been heavy, due
to loose snow and heavy winds. Also intense cold; the thermometers are
all out of commission, due to bubbles; but a frozen bottle of brandy
proves that we had at least 45° of cold. The igloo I built last December
5 is the one my party are camped in. Professor MacMillan and his party
kept up with us all day, and it was pleasant to have his society.
Writing is difficult, the kettle is boiled, so here ends to-day's
entry.
February 21: Easy wind, clear sky, but awful cold. Going across Clements
Markham Inlet was fine, and we were able to steal a ride on the sledges
most of the way, but we all had our faces frosted, and my short flat
nose, which does not readily succumb to the cold, suffered as much as
did MacMillan's. Even these men of iron, the Esquimos, suffered from the
cold, Ootah freezing the great toe of his right foot. Perforce, he was
compelled to thaw it out in the usual way; that is, taking off his kamik
and placing his freezing foot under my bearskin shirt, the heat of my
body thawing out the frozen member.
Cape Colan was reached about half past nine this morning. There we
reloaded, and I fear overloaded, the sledges, from the cache which has
been placed there. Our loads average about 550 pounds per sledge and we
have left a lot of provisions behind.
We are at Cape Good Point, having been unable to make Cape Columbia, and
have had to build an igloo. With our overloaded sledges this has been a
hard day's work. The dogs pulled, and we pushed, and frequently lifted
the heavily loaded sledges through the deep, soft snow; but we did not
dump any of our loads. Although the boys wanted to, I would not stand
for it. The bad example of seeing some piles of provision-cases which
had been unloaded by the preceding parties was what put the idea in
their heads.
We will make Cape Columbia to-morrow and will have to do no
back-tracking. We are moving forward. I have started for a place, and do
not intend to run back to get a better start.
February 22, 1909: Cape Columbia. We left Cape Good Point at seven A. M.
and reached Cape Columbia at eight P. M. No wind, but weather thick and
hazy, and the same old cold. About two miles from Good Point, we passed
the Doctor's igloo. About a mile beyond this, we passed the "Crystal
Palace" that had been occupied by the Captain. Six miles farther north,
we passed a second igloo, which had been built by the Doctor's party.
How did we know who had built and occupied these igloos? It was easy, as
an Esquimo knows and recognizes another Esquimo's handwork, the same as
you recognize the handwriting of your friends. I noted the neat,
orderly, shipshape condition of the Captain's igloo, and the empty
cocoa-tins scattered around the Doctor's igloo. The Doctor was the only
one who had cocoa as an article of supply.
Following the trail four miles farther north, we passed the Captain's
second igloo. He had unloaded his three sledges here and gone on to Parr
Bay to hunt musk-oxen. We caught up with the Doctor and his party at the
end of the ice-foot and pushed on to Cape Columbia. We found but one
igloo here and I did the "after you my dear Alphonse," and the Doctor
got the igloo. My boys and I have built a good big one in less than an
hour, and we are now snug and warm.