The South Pole, Volume 2 by Roald Amundsen

R >> Roald Amundsen >> The South Pole, Volume 2

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25

That day we went twenty-three miles in thick fog, and saw nothing
of the land. It was hard to have to travel thus blindly off an
unknown coast, but we could only hope for better weather. During the
previous night we had heard, for a change, a noise in the ice. It was
nothing very great, and sounded like scattered infantry fire -- a few
rifle-shots here and there underneath our tent; the artillery had not
come up yet. We took no notice of it, though I heard one man say in
the morning: "Blest if I didn't think I got a whack on the ear last
night." I could witness that it had not cost him his sleep, as that
night he had very nearly snored us all out of the tent. During the
forenoon we crossed a number of apparently newly-formed crevasses;
most of them only about an inch wide. There had thus been a small
local disturbance occasioned by one of the numerous small glaciers
on land. On the following night all was quiet again, and we never
afterwards heard the slightest sound.

On November 14 we reached 84deg. 40' S. We were now rapidly
approaching land; the mountain range on the east appeared to turn
north-eastward. Our line of ascent, which we had chosen long ago
and now had our eyes fixed upon as we went, would take us a trifle
to the west of south, but so little that the digression was of no
account. The semicircle we saw to the south made a more disquieting
impression, and looked as if it would offer great irregularities. On
the following day the character of the surface began to change;
great wave-like formations seemed to roll higher and higher as they
approached the land, and in one of the troughs of these we found
the surface greatly disturbed. At some bygone time immense fissures
and chasms would have rendered its passage practically impossible,
but now they were all drifted up, and we had no difficulty in crossing.

That day -- November 15 -- we reached 85deg. S., and camped at the top of
one of these swelling waves. The valley we were to cross next day was
fairly broad, and rose considerably on the other side. On the west,
in the direction of the nearest land, the undulation rose to such
a height that it concealed a great part of the land from us. During
the afternoon we built the usual depot, and continued our journey on
the following day. As we had seen from our camping-ground, it was
an immense undulation that we had to traverse; the ascent on the
other side felt uncomfortably warm in the powerful sun, but it was
no higher than 300 feet by the aneroid. From the top of this wave
the Barrier stretched away before us, flat at first, but we could see
disturbances of the surface in the distance. Now we are going to have
some fun in getting to land, I thought, for it seemed very natural that
the Barrier, hemmed in as it was here, would be much broken up. The
disturbances we had seen consisted of some big, old crevasses, which
were partly filled up; we avoided them easily. Now there was another
deep depression before us; with a correspondingly high rise on the
other side. We went over it capitally; the surface was absolutely
smooth, without a sign of fissure or hole anywhere. Then we shall
get them when we are on the top, I thought. It was rather stiff work
uphill, unaccustomed as we were to slopes. I stretched my neck more
and more to get a view. At last we were up; and what a sight it was
that met us! Not an irregularity, not a sign of disturbance; quietly
and evenly the ascent continued. I believe that we were then already
above land; the large crevasses that we had avoided down below probably
formed the boundary. The hypsometer gave 930 feet above the sea.

We were now immediately below the ascent, and made the final decision
of trying it here. This being settled, we pitched our camp. It was
still early in the day, but we had a great deal to arrange before the
morrow. Here we should have to overhaul our whole supply of provisions,
take with us what was absolutely necessary for the remainder of the
trip, and leave the rest behind in depot. First, then, we camped,
worked out our position, fed the dogs and let them loose again, and
then went into our tent to have something to eat and go through the
provision books.

We had now reached one of the most critical points of our journey. Our
plan had now to be laid so that we might not only make the ascent as
easily as possible, but also get through to the end. Our calculations
had to be made carefully, and every possibility taken into account. As
with every decision of importance, we discussed the matter jointly. The
distance we had before us, from this spot to the Pole and back, was
683 miles. Reckoning with the ascent that we saw before us, with other
unforeseen obstructions, and finally with the certain factor that
the strength of our dogs would be gradually reduced to a fraction of
what it now was, we decided to take provisions and equipment for sixty
days on the sledges, and to leave the remaining supplies -- enough for
thirty days -- and outfit in depot. We calculated, from the experience
we had had, that we ought to be able to reach this point again with
twelve dogs left. We now had forty-two dogs. Our plan was to take
all the forty-two up to the plateau; there twenty-four of them were
to be slaughtered, and the journey continued with three sledges and
eighteen dogs. Of these last eighteen, it would be necessary, in our
opinion, to slaughter six in order to bring the other twelve back to
this point. As the number of dogs grew less, the sledges would become
lighter and lighter, and when the time came for reducing their number
to twelve, we should only have two sledges left. This time again our
calculations came out approximately right; it was only in reckoning
the number of days that we made a little mistake -- we took eight
days less than the time allowed. The number of dogs agreed exactly;
we reached this point again with twelve.

After the question had been well discussed and each had given his
opinion, we went out to get the repacking done. It was lucky the
weather was so fine, otherwise this taking stock of provisions might
have been a bitter piece of work. All our supplies were in such a
form that we could count them instead of weighing them. Our pemmican
was in rations of 2 kilogram (1 pound 12 ounces). The chocolate was
divided into small pieces, as chocolate always is, so that we knew what
each piece weighed. Our milk-powder was put up in bags of 102 ounces
just enough for a meal. Our biscuits possessed the same property --
they could be counted, but this was a tedious business, as they were
rather small. On this occasion we had to count 6,000 biscuits. Our
provisions consisted only of these four kinds, and the combination
turned out right enough. We did not suffer from a craving either for
fat or sugar, though the want of these substances is very commonly
felt on such journeys as ours. In our biscuits we had an excellent
product, consisting of oatmeal, sugar, and dried milk. Sweetmeats,
jam, fruit, cheese, etc., we had left behind at Framheim.

We took our reindeer-skin clothing, for which we had had no use as yet,
on the sledges. We were now coming on to the high ground, and it might
easily happen that it would be a good thing to have. We did not forget
the temperature of -40deg. F. that Shackleton had experienced in 88deg. S.,
and if we met with the same, we could hold out a long while if we had
the skin clothing. Otherwise, we had not very much in our bags. The
only change we had with us was put on here, and the old clothes hung
out to air. We reckoned that by the time we came back, in a couple
of months, they would be sufficiently aired, and we could put them
on again. As far as I remember, the calculation proved correct. We
took more foot-gear than anything else: if one's feet are well shod,
one can hold out a long time.

When all this was finished, three of us put on our ski and made
for the nearest visible land. This was a little peak, a mile and
three-quarters away -- Mount Betty. It did not look lofty or imposing,
but was, nevertheless, 1,000 feet above the sea. Small as it was,
it became important to us, as it was there we got all our geological
specimens. Running on ski felt quite strange, although I had now
covered 385 miles on them; but we had driven the whole way, and were
somewhat out of training. We could feel this, too, as we went up
the slope that afternoon. After Mount Betty the ascent became rather
steep, but the surface was even, and the going splendid, so we got on
fast. First we came up a smooth mountain-side, about 1,200 feet above
the sea, then over a little plateau; after that another smooth slope
like the first, and then down a rather long, flat stretch, which
after a time began to rise very gradually, until it finally passed
into small glacier formations. Our reconnaissance extended to these
small glaciers. We had ascertained that the way was practicable,
as far as we were able to see; we had gone about five and a half
miles from the tent, and ascended 2,000 feet. On the way back we went
gloriously; the last two slopes down to the Barrier gave us all the
speed we wanted. Bjaaland and I had decided to take a turn round by
Mount Betty for the sake of having real bare ground under our feet;
we had not felt it since Madeira in September, 1910, and now we were
in November, 1911. No sooner said than done. Bjaaland prepared for
an elegant "Telemark swing," and executed it in fine style. What I
prepared to do, I am still not quite sure. What I did was to roll over,
and I did it with great effect. I was very soon on my feet again,
and glanced at Bjaaland; whether he had seen my tumble, I am not
certain. However, I pulled myself together after this unfortunate
performance, and remarked casually that it is not so easy to forget
what one has once learnt. No doubt he thought that I had managed the
"Telemark swing"; at any rate, he was polite enough to let me think so.

Mount Betty offered no perpendicular crags or deep precipices to
stimulate our desire for climbing; we only had to take off our ski,
and then we arrived at the top. It consisted of loose screes, and
was not an ideal promenade for people who had to be careful of their
boots. It was a pleasure to set one's foot on bare ground again,
and we sat down on the rocks to enjoy the scene. The rocks very soon
made themselves felt, however, and brought us to our feet again. We
photographed each other in "picturesque attitudes," took a few stones
for those who had not yet set foot on bare earth, and strapped on our
ski. The dogs, after having been so eager to make for bare land when
they first saw it, were now not the least interested in it; they lay on
the snow, and did not go near the top. Between the bare ground and the
snow surface there was bright, blue-green ice, showing that at times
there was running water here. The dogs did what they could to keep
up with us on the way down, but they were soon left behind. On our
return, we surprised our comrades with presents from the country, but
I fear they were not greatly appreciated. I could hear such words as,
"Norway-stones -- heaps of them," and I was able to put them together
and understand what was meant. The "presents" were put in depot,
as not absolutely indispensable on the southern journey.

By this time the dogs had already begun to be very
voracious. Everything that came in their way disappeared; whips,
ski-bindings, lashings, etc., were regarded as delicacies. If one
put down anything for a moment, it vanished. With some of them this
voracity went so far that we had to chain them.

CHAPTER XI

Through the Mountains

On the following day -- November 17 -- we began the ascent. To provide
for any contingency, I left in the depot a paper with information of
the way we intended to take through the mountains, together with our
plan for the future, our outfit, provisions, etc. The weather was fine,
as usual, and the going good. The dogs exceeded our expectations;
they negotiated the two fairly steep slopes at a jog-trot. We began
to think there was no difficulty they could not surmount; the five
miles or so that we had gone the day before, and imagined would be
more than enough for this day's journey, were now covered with full
loads in shorter time. The small glaciers higher up turned out fairly
steep, and in some places we had to take two sledges at a time with
double teams. These glaciers had an appearance of being very old,
and of having entirely ceased to move. There were no new crevasses to
be seen; those that there were, were large and wide, but their edges
were rounded off everywhere, and the crevasses themselves were almost
entirely filled with snow. So as not to fall into these on the return,
we erected our beacons in such a way that the line between any two
of them would take us clear of any danger. It was no use working in
Polar clothing among these hills; the sun, which stood high and clear,
was uncomfortably warm, and we were obliged to take off most of our
things. We passed several summits from 3,000 to 7,000 feet high;
the snow on one of them had quite a reddish-brown tint.

Our distance this first day was eleven and a half miles, with a rise of
2,000 feet. Our camp that evening lay on a little glacier among huge
crevasses; on three sides of us were towering summits. When we had
set our tent, two parties went out to explore the way in advance. One
party -- Wisting and Hanssen -- took the way that looked easiest from
the tent -- namely, the course of the glacier; it here rose rapidly
to 4,000 feet, and disappeared in a south-westerly direction between
two peaks. Bjaaland formed the other party. He evidently looked upon
this ascent as too tame, and started up the steepest part of the
mountain -- side. I saw him disappear up aloft like a fly. Hassel
and I attended to the necessary work round about and in the tent.

We were sitting inside chatting, when we suddenly heard someone come
swishing down towards the tent. We looked at each other; that fellow
had some pace on. We had no doubt as to who it was -- Bjaaland, of
course. He must have gone off to refresh old memories. He had a lot
to tell us; amongst other things, he had found "the finest descent"
on the other side. What he meant by "fine" I was not certain. If it
was as fine as the ascent he had made, then I asked to be excused. We
now heard the others coming, and these we could hear a long way
off. They had also seen a great deal, not to mention "the finest
descent." But both parties agreed in the mournful intelligence that
we should have to go down again. They had both observed the immense
glacier that stretched beneath us running east and west. A lengthy
discussion took place between the two parties, who mutually scorned
each other's "discoveries." "Yes; but look here, Bjaaland, we could
see that from where you were standing there's a sheer drop -- " --
"You couldn't see me at all. I tell you I was to the west of the peak
that lies to the south of the peak that" I gave up trying to follow
the discussion any longer. The way in which the different parties had
disappeared and come in sight again gave me every reason to decide
in favour of the route the last arrivals had taken. I thanked these
keen gentlemen for their strenuous ramble in the interests of the
expedition, and went straight off to sleep. I dreamed of mountains
and precipices all night, and woke up with Bjaaland whizzing down
from the sky. I announced once more that I had made up my mind for
the other course, and went to sleep again.

We debated next morning whether it would not be better to take the
sledges two by two to begin with; the glacier before us looked quite
steep enough to require double teams. It had a rise of 2,000 feet
in quite a short distance. But we would try first with the single
teams. The dogs had shown that their capabilities were far above
our expectation; perhaps they would be able to do even this. We
crept off: The ascent began at once -- good exercise after a quart
of chocolate. We did not get on fast, but we won our way. It often
looked as if the sledge would stop, but a shout from the driver and
a sharp crack of the whip kept the dogs on the move. It was a fine
beginning to the day, and we gave them a well-deserved rest when we
got up. We then drove in through the narrow pass and out on the other
side. It was a magnificent panorama that opened before us. From the
pass we had come out on to a very small flat terrace, which a few
yards farther on began to drop steeply to a long valley. Round about
us lay summit after summit on every side. We had now come behind the
scenes, and could get our bearings better. We now saw the southern
side of the immense Mount Nansen; Don Pedro Christophersen we could
see in his full length. Between these two mountains we could follow
the course of a glacier that rose in terraces along their sides. It
looked fearfully broken and disturbed, but we could follow a little
connected line among the many crevasses; we saw that we could go a
long way, but we also saw that the glacier forbade us to use it in
its full extent. Between the first and second terraces the ice was
evidently impassable. But we could see that there was an unbroken
ledge up on the side of the mountain; Don Pedro would help us out. On
the north along the Nansen Mountain there was nothing but chaos,
perfectly impossible to get through. We put up a big beacon where we
were standing, and took bearings from it all round the compass.

I went back to the pass to look out over the Barrier for the
last time. The new mountain chain lay there sharp and clear; we
could see how it turned from the east up to east-north-east, and
finally disappeared in the north-east -- as we judged, about 84deg.
S. From the look of the sky, it appeared that the chain was continued
farther. According to the aneroid, the height of the terrace on which
we stood was 4,000 feet above the sea. From here there was only one
way down, and we began to go. In making these descents with loaded
sledges, one has to use the greatest care, lest the speed increase
to such a degree that one loses command over the sledge. If this
happens, there is a danger, not only of running over the dogs, but of
colliding with the sledge in front and smashing it. This was all the
more important in our case, as the sledges carried sledge-meters. We
therefore put brakes of rope under our runners when we were to go
downhill. This was done very simply by taking a few turns with a thin
piece of rope round each runner; the more of these turns one took,
the more powerful, of course, was the brake. The art consisted in
choosing the right number of turns, or the right brake; this was not
always attained, and the consequence was that, before we had come
to the end of these descents, there were several collisions. One
of the drivers, in particular, seemed to have a supreme contempt
for a proper brake; he would rush down like a flash of lightning,
and carry the man in front with him. With practice we avoided this,
but several times things had an ugly look.

The first drop took us down 800 feet; then we had to cross a wide,
stiff piece of valley before the ascent began again. The snow between
the mountains was loose and deep, and gave the dogs hard work. The next
ascent was up very steep glaciers, the last of which was the steepest
bit of climbing we had on the whole journey -- stiff work even for
double teams. Going in front of the dogs up these slopes was, I could
see, a business that Bjaaland would accomplish far more satisfactorily
than I, and I gave up the place to him. The first glacier was steep,
but the second was like the side of a house. It was a pleasure to watch
Bjaaland use his ski up there; one could see that he had been up a hill
before. Nor was it less interesting to see the dogs and the drivers go
up. Hanssen drove one sledge alone; Wisting and Hassel the other. They
went by jerks, foot by foot, and ended by reaching the top. The second
relay went somewhat more easily in the tracks made by the first.

Our height here was 4,550 feet, the last ascent having brought us
up 1,250 feet; we had arrived on a plateau, and after the dogs had
rested we continued our march. Now, as we advanced, we had a better
view of the way we were going; before this the nearest mountains had
shut us in. The mighty glacier opened out before us, stretching, as we
could now see, right up from the Barrier between the lofty mountains
running east and west. It was by this glacier that we should have to
gain the plateau; we could see that. We had one more descent to make
before reaching it, and from above we could distinguish the edges
of some big gaps in this descent, and found it prudent to examine it
first. As we thought, there was a side-glacier coming down into it,
with large, ugly crevasses in many places; but it was not so bad as
to prevent our finally reaching, with caution and using good brakes,
the great main ice-field -- Axel Heiberg Glacier. The plan we had
proposed to ourselves was to work our way up to the place where the
glacier rose in abrupt masses between the two mountains. The task
we had undertaken was greater than we thought. In the first place,
the distance was three times as great as any of us had believed;
and, in the second place, the snow was so loose and deep that it was
hard work for the dogs after all their previous efforts. We set our
course along the white line that we had been able to follow among
the numerous crevasses right up to the first terrace. Here tributary
glaciers came down on all sides from the mountains and joined the main
one; it was one of these many small arms that we reached that evening,
directly under Don Pedro Christophersen.

The mountain below which we had our camp was covered with a chaos of
immense blocks of ice. The glacier on which we were was much broken
up, but, as with all the others, the fissures were of old date, and,
to a large extent, drifted up. The snow was so loose that we had to
trample a place for the tent, and we could push the tent-pole right
down without meeting resistance; probably it would be better higher
up. In the evening Hanssen and Bjaaland went out to reconnoitre, and
found the conditions as we had seen them from a distance. The way up
to the first terrace was easily accessible; what the conditions would
be like between this and the second terrace we had still to discover.

It was stiff work next day getting up to the first terrace. The arm
of the glacier that led up was not very long, but extremely steep
and full of big crevasses; it had to be taken in relays, two sledges
at a time. The state of the going was, fortunately, better than on
the previous day, and the surface of the glacier was fine and hard,
so that the dogs got a splendid hold. Bjaaland went in advance up
through this steep glacier, and had his work cut out to keep ahead of
the eager animals. One would never have thought we were between 85deg.
and 86deg. S.; the heat was positively disagreeable, and, although lightly
clad, we sweated as if we were running races in the tropics. We were
ascending rapidly, but, in spite of the sudden change of pressure,
we did not yet experience any difficulty of breathing, headache,
or other unpleasant results. That these sensations would make their
appearance in due course was, however, a matter of which we could
be certain. Shackleton's description of his march on the plateau,
when headache of the most violent and unpleasant kind was the order
of the day, was fresh in the memory of all of us.

In a comparatively short time we reached the ledge in the glacier
that we had noticed a long way off; it was not quite flat, but sloped
slightly towards the edge. When we came to the place to which Hanssen
and Bjaaland had carried their reconnaissance on the previous evening,
we had a very fine prospect of the further course of the glacier. To
continue along it was an impossibility; it consisted here -- between
the two vast mountains -- of nothing but crevasse after crevasse,
so huge and ugly that we were forced to conclude that our further
advance that way was barred. Over by Fridtjof Nansen we could not
go; this mountain here rose perpendicularly, in parts quite bare,
and formed with the glacier a surface so wild and cut up that
all thoughts of crossing the ice-field in that direction had to be
instantly abandoned. Our only chance lay in the direction of Don Pedro
Christophersen; here, so far as we could see, the connection of the
glacier and the land offered possibilities of further progress. Without
interruption the glacier was merged in the snow-clad mountain-side,
which rose rapidly towards the partially bare summit. Our view,
however, did not extend very far. The first part of the mountain-side
was soon bounded by a lofty ridge running east and west, in which
we could see huge gaps here and there. From the place where we were
standing, we had the impression that we should be able to continue our
course up there under the ridge between these gaps, and thus come out
beyond the disturbed tract of glacier. We might possibly succeed in
this, but we could not be certain until we were up on the ridge itself.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25