PIONEERING THE WAY--BREAKING SLEDGES
March 11, 1909: Clear, 45°. Off we go! Marvin and Borup have not yet
shown up, but the lead is shut and the orders since yesterday afternoon
have been to stand by for only twelve hours more; and while the tea is
brewing I am using the warmth to write. We could have crossed thirty
hours ago, but Commander Peary would not permit us to take chances; he
wants to keep the party together as long as possible, and expects to
have to send at least eight men back after the next march. MacMillan is
not fit, and there are four or five of the natives who should be sent
away. Three Esquimos apiece are too many, and I think Commander Peary is
about ready to split the different crews of men and dogs. He himself is
in very good shape and, due to his example, Captain Bartlett has again
taken the field. A heavy storm of wind and snow is in progress, but the
motion of the ice remains satisfactory.
This is not a regular camp. We are sheltered north of a huge
paleocrystic floeberg; and the dogs are at rest, with their noses in
their tails. Dr. Goodsell has set his boys to work building an igloo,
which will not be needed, for I see Ooqueah and Egingwah piling up the
loads on their sledges, and Professor MacMillan is very busy with his
own personal sledge. No halt, only a breathing spell and, as I have
predicted, we are on our way again. This is an extremely dangerous zone
to halt or hazard in. The ice is liable to open here at any moment and
let us either sink in the cold, black water or drift on a block of
frozen ice, much too thin to enable us to get on to the heavy ice again.
Three miles wide at least.
The foregoing was written while out on the ice of the Arctic Ocean, just
after crossing the raftered hummocks of the ice of the Big Lead. While
we were waiting for the rest of the expedition to gather in, I slumped
down behind a peak of land or paleocrystic ice, and made the entry in my
diary. We were not tired out; we had had more than six days' rest at
the lead; and when it closed we pushed on across the pressure-ridges on
to the heavy and cumbrous ice of the circumpolar sea. We were sure that
we had passed the main obstruction, and in spite of the failure of
Marvin and Borup to come in with the essentials of fuel-alcohol and
food, Commander Peary insisted on pushing forward.
Prof. Donald B. MacMillan was with the party, but Commander Peary knew,
without his telling him, that he was really no longer fit to travel, and
Dr. Goodsell was not as far north of the land as original plans
intended, so when both MacMillan and Goodsell were told that they must
start back to the ship, I was not surprised.
It was on March 14 that the first supporting-party finally turned back.
It was my impression that Professor MacMillan would command it, but
Commander Peary sent the Doctor back in charge, with the two boys Arco
and Wesharkoupsi. A few hours before the turning back of Dr. Goodsell,
an Esquimo courier from Professor Marvin's detachment had overtaken us,
with the welcome news that both Borup and Marvin, with complete loads,
were immediately in our rear, safe across the lead that had so long
delayed us. I was given instructions to govern my conduct for the
following five marches and I was told to be ready to start right after
breakfast.
Dr. Goodsell came to me, congratulated me and, with the best wishes for
success, bade me good-by. He was loath to go back, but he returned to
the ship with the hearty assurance of every one that he had done good
and effective work, equal to the best efforts of the more experienced
members of the party.
My boys, Ootah, Ahwatingwah, and Koolootingwah, under my command started
north, to pioneer the route for five full marches, and it was with a
firm resolve that I determined to cover a big mileage. We had been
having extreme cold weather, as low as 59° below zero, and on the
morning my party started the thermometers in the camp showed 49° below
zero.
An hour's travel brought us to a small lead, which was avoided by making
a detour, and about four miles beyond this lead we came up to heavy old
floes, on which the snow lay deep and soft. The sledges would sink to
the depth of the cross-bars. Traveling was slow, and the dogs became
demons; at one time, sullen and stubborn; then wildly excited and
savage; and in our handling of them I fear we became fiendlike
ourselves. Frequently we would have to lift them bodily from the pits of
snow, and snow-filled fissures they had fallen into, and I am now sorry
to say that we did not do it gently. The dogs, feeling the additional
strain, refused to make the slightest effort when spoken to or touched
with the whip, and to break them of this stubbornness, and to prevent
further trouble, I took the leader or king dog of one team and, in the
presence of the rest of the pack, I clubbed him severely. The dogs
realized what was required of them, and that I would exact it of them in
spite of what they would do, and they became submissive and pulled
willingly, myself and the Esquimos doing our share at the upstanders.
We got over the heavy floe-ice, to find ourselves confronted with
jagged, rough ice, where we had to pickax our way. In one place we came
to pressure-ridges separated by a deep gulch of very rough and uneven
ice, in crossing which it took two men to manage each sledge, and
another man to help pull them up on to the more even ice. We crossed
several leads, mostly frozen over, and kept on going for over twelve
hours. The mileage was small and, instead of elation, I felt
discouragement. Two of the sledges had split their entire length and had
to be repaired, and the going had been such that we could not cover any
distance. We had a good long rest at the Big Lead for over six days, but
at the end of this, my first day's pioneering, I was as tired out as I
have ever been. It should be understood that while I was pioneering I
was carrying the full-loaded sledges with about 550 pounds, while the
other parties that were in the lead never carried but half of the
regular load, which made our progress much slower.
March 15: Bright, clear, and I am sure as cold as the record-breaking
cold of the day previous. We made an early start, with hopes high; but
the first two hours' traveling was simply a repetition of the going of
the day before. But after that, and to the end of the day's march, the
surface of the ice over which we traveled was most remarkably smooth.
The fallen snow had packed solid into the areas of rough ice and on the
edges of the large floes. The dogs, with tails up and heads out, stamped
off mile after mile in rapid succession, and when we camped I
conservatively made the estimate fifteen miles. It has to be good going
to make such a distance with loaded sledges, but we made it and I was
satisfied.
March 16: We started going over ice conditions similar to the good part
of the day before, but our hopes were soon shattered when the ice
changed completely and, from being stationary, a distinct motion become
observable. The movement of the ice increased, and the rumbling and
roaring, as it raftered, was deafening. A dense fog, the sure indication
of open water, overhung us, and in due time we came to the open lead,
over which small broken floes were scattered, interspersed with thin
young ice. These floes were hardly thick enough to hold a dog safely,
but, there being no other way, we were obliged to cross on them. We set
out with jaws squared by anxiety. A false step by any one would mean the
end. With the utmost care, the sledges were placed on the most solid
floes, and, with Ootah, the most experienced, in the lead, we followed
in single file. Once started, there was no stopping; but push on with
the utmost care and even pressure. You know that we got across, but
there were instants during the crossing when I had my strongest doubts.
After crossing the lead, the ice condition became horrible. Almost at
the same time, three of the sledges broke, one sledge being completely
smashed to pieces. We were forced to camp and start to work making two
whole sledges from the wreckage of the three broken ones.
We had barely completed this work when the Commander, the Captain,
Marvin, Borup, and Esquimos came in. I was glad to see them all again,
especially the smiling face of George Borup, whom I had not seen since
the day he left Cape Columbia.
We learned that MacMillan had been sent back to the ship on the 15th,
that the party had been delayed on the second day's march by a new lead,
which widened so rapidly and to such an extent that it was feared to be
the twin sister of the Big Lead farther back.
March 17: The whole party, with the exception of Professor Marvin and
his detachment, remained in camp. Marvin was sent ahead to plot a route
for the next marches of the column, and the party in camp busied itself
in the general work of repairing sledges and equipment.
The morning of the 18th found the main column ready to start, and start
it did, in spite of the dreary outlook due to the condition of the
weather and of the ice. Thermometer 40° below zero, and the loose ice to
our right and in front distinctly in motion, but fortunately moving to
the northward. A heavy wind of the force of a gale was at our backs, and
for the first three miles our progress was slow. The hummocks of ice in
wild disarrangement, and so difficult to cross that repeatedly the
sledges were overturned; and one sledge was broken so badly that a halt
had to be made to repair it. While repairing the sledge, our midday
lunch of crackers was eaten. The dogs were not fed anything, experience
having taught us that dogs will work better with hope for a reward in
the future than when it is past.
All that day the air was thick with haze and frost and we felt the cold
even more than when the temperature was lower with the air clear. The
wind would find the tiniest opening in our clothing and pierce us with
the force of driving needles. Our hoods froze to our growing beards and
when we halted we had to break away the ice that had been formed by the
congealing of our breaths and from the moisture of perspiration exhaled
by our bodies. When we finally camped and built our igloos, it was not
with any degree of comfort that we lay down to rest. Actually it was
more comfortable to keep on the march, and when we did rest it was
fatigue that compelled.