The South Pole, Volume 1 by Roald Amundsen

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I tried to work up a little poetry -- "the ever-restless spirit of
man " -- "the mysterious, awe-inspiring wilderness of ice" -- but it
was no good; I suppose it was too early in the morning. I abandoned
my efforts, after coming to the conclusion that each sledge gave one
more the idea of a coffin than of anything else, all the cases being
painted black.

It was as we had expected: the dogs were on the verge of
exploding. What a time we had getting them all into the traces! They
could not stand still an instant; either it was a friend they wanted
to wish good-morning, or it was an enemy they were longing to fly
at. There was always something going on; when they kicked out with
their hind-legs, raising a cloud of snow, or glared defiantly at each
other, it often caused their driver an anxious moment. If he had his
eye on them at this stage, he might, by intervening quickly and firmly,
prevent the impending battle; but one cannot be everywhere at once,
and the result was a series of the wildest fights. Strange beasts! They
had been going about the place comparatively peacefully the whole
winter, and now, as soon as they were in harness, they must needs
fight as if their lives depended on it. At last we were all ready
and away. It was the first time we had driven with teams of twelve,
so that we were anxious to see the result.

It went better than we had expected; of course, not like an express
train, but we could not expect that the first time. Some of the dogs
had grown too fat in the course of the winter, and had difficulty in
keeping up; for them this first trip was a stiff pull. But most of them
were in excellent condition -- fine, rounded bodies, not lumpish. It
did not take long to get up the hill this time; most of them had to
stop and get their wind on the slope, but there were some that did
it without a halt. Up at the top everything looked just as we had
left it in April. The flag was still standing where we had planted
it, and did not look much the worse for wear. And, what was still
stranger, we could see our old tracks southward. We drove all our
sledges well up, unharnessed the dogs, and let them go. We took it
for granted that they would all rush joyfully home to the flesh-pots,
nor did the greater number disappoint us. They set off gaily homewards,
and soon the ice was strewn with dogs. They did not behave altogether
like good children. In some places there was a sort of mist over the
ice; this was the cloud of snow thrown up by the combatants. But on
their return they were irreproachable; one could not take any notice
of a halt here and there. At the inspection that evening, it appeared
that ten of them were missing. That was strange -- could all ten have
gone down crevasses? It seemed unlikely.

Next morning two men went over to the starting-point to look for
the missing dogs. On the way they crossed a couple of crevasses, but
there was no dog to be seen. When they arrived at the place where the
sledges stood, there lay all ten curled up asleep. They were lying
by their own sledges, and did not seem to take the slightest notice
of the men's arrival. One or two of them may have opened an eye,
but that was all. When they were roused and given to understand by
unmistakable signs that their presence was desired at home, they seemed
astonished beyond all bounds. Some of them simply declined to believe
it; they merely turned round a few times and lay down again on the
same spot. They had to be flogged home. Can anything more inexplicable
be imagined? There they lay, three miles from their comfortable home,
where they knew that abundance of food awaited them -- in a temperature
of -40deg.F. Although they had now been out for twenty-four hours, none of
them gave a sign of wanting to leave the spot. If it had been summer,
with warm sunshine, one might have understood it; but as it was -- no!

That day -- August 24 -- the sun appeared above the Barrier again for
the first time in four months. He looked very smiling, with a friendly
nod for the old pressure-ridges he had seen for so many years; but
when his first beams reached the starting-point, his face might well
show surprise. "Well, if they're not first, after all! And I've been
doing all I could to get here!" It could not be denied; we had won
the race, and reached the Barrier a day before him.

The day for our actual start could not be fixed; we should have to
wait until the temperature moderated somewhat. So long as it continued
to grovel in the depths, we could not think of setting out. All our
things were now ready up on the Barrier, and nothing remained but
to harness the dogs and start. When I say all our things were ready,
this is not the impression anyone would have gained who looked in on
us; the cutting out and sewing were going on worse than ever. What
had previously occurred to one as a thing of secondary importance,
which might be done if there was time, but might otherwise quite well
be dropped, now suddenly appeared as the most important part of the
whole outfit; and then out came the knife and cut away, until great
heaps of offcuts and hair lay about the floor; then the needle was
produced, and seam after seam added to those there were already.

The days went by, and the temperature would give no sign of spring;
now and then it would make a jump of about thirty degrees, but only
to sink just as rapidly back to -58deg. F. It is not at all pleasant to
hang about waiting like this; I always have the idea that I am the only
one who is left behind, while all the others are out on the road. And
I could guess that I was not the only one of us who felt this.

"I'd give something to know how far Scott is to-day."

"Oh, he's not out yet, bless you! It's much too cold for his ponies."

"Ah, but how do you know they have it as cold as this? I expect it's
far warmer where they are, among the mountains; and you can take your
oath they're not lying idle. Those boys have shown what they can do."

This was the sort of conversation one could hear daily. The uncertainty
was worrying many of us -- not all -- and, personally, I felt it a
great deal. I was determined to get away as soon as it was at all
possible, and the objection that much might be lost by starting too
early did not seem to me to have much force. If we saw that it was
too cold, all we had to do was to turn back; so that I could not see
there was any risk.

September came, with -43.6deg. F. That is a temperature that one can
always stand, but we had better wait and see what it is going to do;
perhaps it will only play its old tricks again. Next day, -63.4deg.
F.; calm and clear. September 6, -20.2deg. F. At last the change had
come, and we thought it was high time. Next day, -7.6deg. F. The little
slant of wind that came from the east felt quite like a mild spring
breeze. Well, at any rate, we now had a good temperature to start
in. Every man ready; to-morrow we are off.

September 8 arrived. We turned out as usual, had breakfast, and were
then on the move. We had not much to do. The empty sledges we were to
use for driving up to the starting-point were ready; we only had to
throw a few things on to them. But it turned out that the mere fact
of having so few things was the cause of its taking a long time. We
were to harness twelve dogs to the empty sledges, and we had an idea
that it would cost us a struggle to get away. We helped each other,
two and two, to bring the dogs to the sledges and harness them. Those
who were really careful had anchored their sledges to a peg firmly
fixed in the snow; others had contented themselves with capsizing
their sledges; and others, again, were even more reckless. We all
had to be ready before the first man could start; otherwise, it would
have been impossible for those who were behind to hold in their dogs,
and the result would have been a false start.

Our dogs were in a fearful state of excitement and confusion that
morning, but at last everything was ready, barring one or two
trifles. Then I suddenly heard a wild yell, and, spinning round,
I saw a team tearing off without a driver. The next driver rushed
forward to help, with the result that his dogs made off after the
others. The two sledges were on ahead, and the two drivers after them
in full gallop; but the odds were too unequal -- in a few moments
the drivers were beaten. The two runaway teams had made off in a
south-westerly direction, and were going like the wind. The men had
hard work; they had long ago stopped running, and were now following
in the tracks of the sledges. The dogs had disappeared behind the
ridges, which the men did not reach till much later.

Meanwhile the rest of us waited. The question was, what would those
two do when at last they had come up with their sledges? Would they
turn and go home, or would they drive up to the starting-point? Waiting
was no fun under any circumstances, and so we decided to go on to the
starting-point, and, if necessary, wait there. No sooner said than
done, and away we went. Now we should see what command the fellows had
over their dogs, for, in all canine probability, these teams would now
try to follow the same course that the runaways had taken. This fear
turned out not to be groundless; three managed to turn their dogs and
put them in the right direction, but the other two were off on the
new course. Afterwards, of course, they tried to make out that they
thought we were all going that way. I smiled, but said nothing. It
had happened more than once that my own dogs had taken charge; no
doubt I had felt rather foolish at the time, but after all ....

It was not till noon that we all assembled with our sledges. The
drivers of the runaways had had stiff work to catch them, and were
wet through with their exertions. I had some thoughts of turning
back, as three young puppies had followed us; if we went on, we
should have to shoot them. But to turn back after all this work,
and then probably have the same thing over again next morning, was
not a pleasant prospect. And, above all, to see Lindstrom standing
at the door, shaking with laughter -- no, we had better go on. I
think we were all agreed in this. The dogs were now harnessed to the
loaded sledges, and the empty ones were stacked one above another. At
1.30 p.m. we were off. The old tracks were soon lost sight of, but we
immediately picked up the line of flags that had been set up at every
second kilometre on the last depot journey. The going was splendid,
and we went at a rattling pace to the south. We did not go very far
the first day -- eleven and three-quarter miles -- and pitched our
camp at 3.30 p.m. The first night out is never very pleasant, but this
time it was awful. There was such a row going on among our ninety dogs
that we could not close our eyes. It was a blessed relief when four in
the morning came round, and we could begin to get up. We had to shoot
the three puppies when we stopped for lunch that day. The going was
the same; nothing could be better. The flags we were following stood
just as we had left them; they showed no trace of there having been any
snowfall in the interval. That day we did fifteen and a half miles. The
dogs were not yet in training, but were picking up every hour.

By the 10th they seemed to have reached their full vigour; that day
none of us could hold in his team. They all wanted to get forward, with
the result that one team ran into another, and confusion followed. This
was a tiresome business; the dogs wore themselves out to no purpose,
and, of course, the time spent in extricating them from one another
was lost. They were perfectly wild that day. When Lassesen, for
instance, caught sight of his enemy Hans, who was in another team,
he immediately encouraged his friend Fix to help him. These two then
put on all the speed they could, with the result that the others in
the same team were excited by the sudden acceleration, and joined
in the spurt. It made no difference how the driver tried to stop
them; they went on just as furiously, until they reached the team
that included the object of Lassesen's and Fix's endeavours. Then
the two teams dashed into each other, and we had ninety-six dogs'
legs to sort out. The only thing that could be done was to let those
who could not hold in their teams unharness some of the dogs and tie
them on the sledge. In this way we got things to work satisfactorily
at last. We covered eighteen and a half miles that day.

On Monday, the 11th, we woke up to a temperature of -67.9deg. F. The
weather was splendid, calm, and clear. We could see by the dogs
that they were not feeling happy, as they had kept comparatively
quiet that night. The cold affected the going at once; it was slow
and unyielding. We came across some crevasses, and Hanssen's sledge
was nearly in one; but it was held up, and he came out of it without
serious consequences. The cold caused no discomfort on the march;
on the contrary, at times it was too warm. One's breath was like a
cloud, and so thick was the vapour over the dogs that one could not
see one team from the next, though the sledges were being driven
close to one another.

On the 12th it was -61.6deg. F., with a breeze dead against us. This
was undeniably bitter. It was easy to see that the temperature
was too much for the dogs; in the morning, especially, they were
a pitiful sight. They lay rolled up as tightly as possible, with
their noses under their tails, and from time to time one could see a
shiver run through their bodies; indeed, some of them were constantly
shivering. We had to lift them up and put them into their harness. I
had to admit that with this temperature it would not pay to go on;
the risk was too great. We therefore decided to drive on to the
depot in 80deg. S., and unload our sledges there. On that day, too,
we made the awkward discovery that the fluid in our compasses had
frozen, rendering them useless. The weather had become very thick,
and we could only guess vaguely the position of the sun. Our progress
under these circumstances was very doubtful; possibly we were on
the right course, but it was just as probable -- nay, more so --
that we were off it. The best thing we could do, therefore, was to
pitch our camp, and wait for a better state of things. We did not
bless the instrument-maker who had supplied those compasses.

It was 10 a.m. when we stopped. In order to have a good shelter for the
long day before us, we decided to build two snow-huts. The snow was
not good for this purpose, but, by fetching blocks from all sides,
we managed to put up the huts. Hanssen built one and Wisting the
other. In a temperature such as we now had, a snow-hut is greatly
preferable to a tent, and we felt quite comfortable when we came in
and got the Primus going. That night we heard a strange noise round
us. I looked under my bag to see whether we had far to drop, but
there was no sign of a disturbance anywhere. In the other but they
had heard nothing. We afterwards discovered that the sound was only
due to snow "settling." By this expression I mean the movement that
takes place when a large extent of the snow surface breaks and sinks
(settles down). This movement gives one the idea that the ground is
sinking under one, and it is not a pleasant feeling. It is followed
by a dull roar, which often makes the dogs jump into the air -- and
their drivers, too, for that matter. Once we heard this booming on
the plateau so loud that it seemed like the thunder of cannon. We
soon grew accustomed to it.

Next day the temperature was -62.5deg. F., calm, and perfectly clear. We
did eighteen and a half miles, and kept our course as well as we could
with the help of the sun. It was -69.3deg. F. when we camped. This time
I had done a thing that I have always been opposed to: I had brought
spirits with me in the form of a bottle of Norwegian aquavit and a
bottle of gin. I thought this a suitable occasion to bring in the
gin. It was as hard as flint right through. While we were thawing it
the bottle burst, and we threw it out into the snow, with the result
that all the dogs started to sneeze. The next bottle -- "Aquavit,
No. 1" -- was like a bone, but we had learnt wisdom by experience,
and we succeeded with care in thawing it out. We waited till we were
all in our bags, and then we had one. I was greatly disappointed;
it was not half so good as I had thought. But I am glad I tried it,
as I shall never do so again. The effect was nil; I felt nothing,
either in my head or my feet.

The 14th was cool -- the temperature remained at -68.8deg. F. Fortunately
it was clear, so that we could see where we were going. We had not gone
far before a bright projection appeared on the level surface. Out with
the glasses -- the depot! There it lay, right in our course. Hanssen,
who had driven first the whole way, without a forerunner, and for
the most part without a compass, had no need to be ashamed of his
performance. We agreed that it was well done, and that, no doubt,
was all the thanks he got. We reached it at 10.15 a.m., and unloaded
our sledges at once. Wisting undertook the far from pleasant task of
getting us a cup of warm milk at -68.8deg. F. He put the Primus behind
one of the cases of provisions, and set it going; strangely enough,
the paraffin was still liquid in the vessel, but this was no doubt
because it had been well protected in the case. A cup of Horlick's
Malted Milk tasted better that day than the last time I had tried it --
in a restaurant in Chicago.

Having enjoyed that, we threw ourselves on the almost empty sledges,
and set our course for home. The going was difficult, but, with the
light weight they now had to pull, the dogs went along well. I sat
with Wisting, as I considered his team the strongest. The cold held
on unchanged, and I was often surprised that it was possible to sit
still on the sledges, as we did, without freezing; but we got on quite
well. One or two I saw off their sledges all day, and most of us jumped
off from time to time and ran by the side to get warm. I myself took to
my ski and let myself be pulled along. This so-called sport has never
appealed to me, but under the circumstances it was permissible; it
warmed my feet, and that was the object of it. I again had recourse to
this "sport" of ski-driving later on, but that was for another reason.

On the 15th, as we sat in the tent cooking and chatting, Hanssen
suddenly said: "Why, I believe my heel's gone!" Off came his stockings,
and there was a big, dead heel, like a lump of tallow. It did not look
well. He rubbed it until he thought he "could feel something again,"
and then put his feet back in his stockings and got into his bag. Now
it was Stubberud's turn. "Blest if I don't think there's something
wrong with mine, too." Same proceeding -- same result. This was
pleasant -- two doubtful heels, and forty-six miles from Framheim! When
we started next morning it was fortunately milder -- "almost summer":
-40deg. F. It felt quite pleasant. The difference between -40deg. and -60deg.
is, in my opinion, very perceptible. It may perhaps be thought that
when one gets so far down, a few degrees one way or the other do not
make any difference, but they do.

While driving that day we were obliged to let loose several of the
dogs, who could not keep up; we supposed that they would follow our
tracks. Adam and Lazarus were never seen again. Sara fell dead on
the way without any previous symptom. Camilla was also among those
let loose.

On the way home we kept the same order as on the previous days. Hanssen
and Wisting, as a rule, were a long way ahead, unless they stopped and
waited. We went at a tearing pace. We had thought of halting at the
sixteen-mile flag, as we called it -- the mark at thirty kilometres
from Framheim -- and waiting for the others to come up, but as the
weather was of the best, calm and clear, and with our tracks on the
way south perfectly plain, I decided to go on. The sooner we got the
bad heels into the house, the better. The two first sledges arrived
at 4 p.m.; the next at 6, and the two following ones at 6.30. The
last did not come in till 12.30 a.m. Heaven knows what they had been
doing on the way!

With the low temperatures we experienced on this trip, we noticed a
curious snow-formation that I had never seen before. Fine -- extremely
fine -- drift-snow collected, and formed small cylindrical bodies
of an average diameter of 1 1/4 inches, and about the same height;
they were, however, of various sizes. They generally rolled over the
surface like a wheel, and now and then collected into large heaps,
from which again, one by one, or several together, they continued
their rolling. If you took one of these bodies in the hand, there
was no increase of weight to be felt -- not the very slightest. If
you took one of the largest and crushed it, there was, so to speak,
nothing left. With the temperature in the -40's, we did not see them.

As soon as we came home, we attended to the heels. Prestrud had both
his heels frozen, one slightly, the other more severely, though, so
far as I could determine, not so badly as the other two. The first
thing we did was to lance the big blisters that had formed and let out
the fluid they contained; afterwards we put on boracic compresses,
night and morning. We kept up this treatment for a long time; at
last the old skin could be removed, and the new lay there fresh and
healthy. The heel was cured.

Circumstances had arisen which made me consider it necessary to
divide the party into two. One party was to carry out the march to
the south; the other was to try to reach King Edward VII. Land, and
see what was to be done there, besides exploring the region around
the Bay of Whales. This party was composed of Prestrud, Stubberud,
and Johansen, under the leadership of the first-named.

The advantages of this new arrangement were many. In the first place,
a smaller party could advance more rapidly than a larger one. Our
numbers, both of men and dogs, on several of the previous trips had
clearly shown the arrangement to be unfortunate. The time we took to
get ready in the morning -- four hours -- was one of the consequences
of being a large party. With half the number, or only one tent full,
I hoped to be able to reduce this time by half. The importance of the
depots we had laid down was, of course, greatly increased, since they
would now only have to support five members of the party originally
contemplated, and would thus be able to furnish them with supplies
for so much more time. From a purely scientific point of view, the
change offered such obvious advantages that it is unnecessary to
insist upon them. Henceforward, therefore, we worked, so to speak,
in two parties. The Polar party was to leave as soon as spring came
in earnest. I left it to Prestrud himself to fix the departure of
the party he was to lead; there was no such hurry for them -- they
could take things more easily.

Then the same old fuss about the outfit began all over again, and the
needles were busy the whole time. Two days after our return, Wisting
and Bjaaland went out to the thirty-kilometre mark with the object
of bringing in the dogs that had been let loose on that part of the
route and had not yet returned. They made the trip of sixty kilometres
(thirty-seven and a half miles) in six hours, and brought all the
stragglers -- ten of them -- back with them. The farthest of them
were found lying by the flag; none of them showed a sign of getting
up when the sledges came. They had to be picked up and harnessed,
and one or two that had sore feet were driven on the sledges. In all
probability most of them would have returned in a few days. But it
is incomprehensible that healthy, plucky dogs, as many of them were,
should take it into their heads to stay behind like that.

On September 24 we had the first tidings of spring, when Bjaaland
came back from the ice and told us he had shot a seal. So the seals
had begun to come up on to the ice; this was a good sign. The next day
we went out to bring it in, and we got another at the same time. There
was excitement among the dogs when they got fresh meat, to say nothing
of fresh blubber. Nor were we men inclined to say no to a fresh steak.

On September 27 we removed the roof that had covered over the window
of our room. We had to carry the light down through a long wooden
channel, so that it was considerably reduced by the time it came in;
but it was light -- genuine daylight -- and it was much appreciated.

On the 26th Camilla came back, after an absence of ten days. She had
been let loose sixty-eight miles from Framheim on the last trip. When
she came in, she was as fat as ever; probably she had been feasting
in her solitude on one of her comrades. She was received with great
ovations by her many admirers.

On September 29 a still more certain sign of spring appeared --
a flight of Antarctic petrels. They came flying up to us to bring
the news that now spring had come -- this time in earnest. We were
delighted to see these fine, swift birds again. They flew round
the house several times to see whether we were all there still;
and we were not long in going out to receive them. It was amusing
to watch the dogs: at first the birds flew pretty near the ground;
when the dogs caught sight of them, they rushed out -- the whole
lot of them -- to catch them. They tore along, scouring the ground,
and, of course, all wanted to be first. Then the birds suddenly rose
into the air, and presently the dogs lost sight of them. They stood
still for a moment, glaring at each other, evidently uncertain of
what was the best thing to do. Such uncertainty does not, as a rule,
last long. They made up their minds with all desirable promptitude
and flew at each other's throats.

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