The South Pole, Volume 2 by Roald Amundsen

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We took a little rest -- it was not a long one -- and then started. We
were impatient to see whether we could get forward up above. There
could be no question of reaching the height without double teams;
first we had to get Hanssen's and Wisting's sledges up, and then
the two others. We were not particularly keen on thus covering the
ground twice, but the conditions made it imperative. We should have
been pleased just then if we had known that this was to be the last
ascent that would require double teams; but we did not know this,
and it was more than any of us dared to hope. The same hard work, and
the same trouble to keep the dogs at an even pace, and then we were
up under the ridge amongst the open chasms. To go farther without a
careful examination of the ground was not to be thought of. Doubtless,
our day's march had not been a particularly long one, but the piece
we had covered had indeed been fatiguing enough. We therefore camped,
and set our tent at an altitude of 5,650 feet above the sea.

We at once proceeded to reconnoitre, and the first thing to be
examined was the way we had seen from below. This led in the right
direction -- that is, in the direction of the glacier, east and west
-- and was thus the shortest. But it is not always the shortest way
that is the best; here, in any case, it was to be hoped that another
and longer one would offer better conditions. The shortest way was
awful -- possibly not altogether impracticable, if no better was to
be found. First we had to work our way across a hard, smooth slope,
which formed an angle of 45 degrees, and ended in a huge, bottomless
chasm. It was no great pleasure to cross over here on ski, but with
heavily-laden sledges the enjoyment would be still less. The prospect
of seeing sledge, driver, and dogs slide down sideways and disappear
into the abyss was a great one. We got across with whole skins on
ski, and continued our exploration. The mountain-side along which
we were advancing gradually narrowed between vast fissures above and
vaster fissures below, and finally passed by a very narrow bridge --
hardly broader than the sledges -- into the glacier. On each side of
the bridge, one looked down into a deep blue chasm. To cross here did
not look very inviting; no doubt we could take the dogs out and haul
the sledges over, and thus manage it -- presuming the bridge held --
but our further progress, which would have to be made on the glacier,
would apparently offer many surprises of an unpleasant kind. It was
quite possible that, with time and patience, one would be able to
tack through the apparently endless succession of deep crevasses;
but we should first have to see whether something better than this
could not be found in another direction. We therefore returned to camp.

Here in the meantime everything had been put in order, the tent set
up, and the dogs fed. Now came the great question: What was there on
the other side of the ridge? Was it the same desperate confusion,
or would the ground offer better facilities? Three of us went off
to see. Excitement rose as we neared the saddle; so much depended on
finding a reasonable way. One more pull and we were up; it was worth
the trouble. The first glance showed us that this was the way we had to
go. The mountain-side ran smooth and even under the lofty summit-like a
gabled church tower -- of Mount Don Pedro Christophersen, and followed
the direction of the glacier. We could see the place where this long,
even surface united with the glacier; to all appearance it was free
from disturbance. We saw some crevasses, of course, but they were far
apart, and did not give us the idea that they would be a hindrance. But
we were still too far from the spot to be able to draw any certain
conclusions as to the character of the ground; we therefore set off
towards the bottom to examine the conditions more closely. The surface
was loose up here, and the snow fairly deep; our ski slipped over it
well, but it would be heavy for dogs. We advanced rapidly, and soon
came to the huge crevasses. They were big enough and deep enough, but
so scattered that, without much trouble, we could find a way between
them. The hollow between the two mountains, which was filled by the
Heiberg Glacier, grew narrower and narrower towards the end, and,
although appearances were still very pleasant, I expected to find some
disturbance when we arrived at the point where the mountain-side passed
into the glacier. But my fears proved groundless; by keeping right
under Don Pedro we went clear of all trouble, and in a short time,
to our great joy, we found ourselves above and beyond that chaotic
part of the Heiberg Glacier which had completely barred our progress.

Up here all was strangely peaceful; the mountain-side and the glacier
united in a great flat terrace -- a plain, one might call it --
without disturbance of any kind. We could see depressions in the
surface where the huge crevasses had formerly existed, but now they
were entirely filled up, and formed one with the surrounding level. We
could now see right to the end of this mighty glacier, and form some
idea of its proportions. Mount Wilhelm Christophersen and Mount Ole
Engelstad formed the end of it; these two beehive-shaped summits,
entirely covered with snow, towered high into the sky. We understood
now that the last of the ascent was before us, and that what we saw
in the distance between these two mountains was the great plateau
itself. The question, then, was to find a way up, and to conquer
this last obstruction in the easiest manner. In the radiantly clear
air we could see the smallest details with our excellent prismatic
glasses, and make our calculations with great confidence. It would
be possible to clamber up Don Pedro himself; we had done things as
difficult before. But here the side of the mountain was fairly steep,
and full of big crevasses and a fearful quantity of gigantic blocks
of ice. Between Don Pedro and Wilhelm Christophersen an arm of the
glacier went up on to the plateau, but it was so disturbed and broken
up that it could not be used. Between Wilhelm Christophersen and Ole
Engelstad there was no means of getting through. Between Ole Engelstad
and Fridtjof Nansen, on the other hand, it looked more promising,
but as yet the first of these mountains obstructed our view so much
that we could not decide with certainty. We were all three rather
tired, but agreed to continue our excursion, and find out what was
here concealed. Our work to-day would make our progress to-morrow so
much the easier. We therefore went on, and laid our course straight
over the topmost flat terrace of the Heiberg Glacier. As we advanced,
the ground between Nansen and Engelstad opened out more and more, and
without going any farther we were able to decide from the formations
that here we should undoubtedly find the best way up. If the final
ascent at the end of the glacier, which was only partly visible,
should present difficulties, we could make out from where we stood
that it would be possible, without any great trouble, to work our way
over the upper end of the Nansen Mountain itself, which here passed
into the plateau by a not too difficult glacier. Yes, now we were
certain that it was indeed the great plateau and nothing else that we
saw before us. In the pass between the two mountains, and some little
distance within the plateau, Helland Hansen showed up, a very curious
peak to look at. It seemed to stick its nose up through the plateau,
and no more; its shape was long, and it reminded one of nothing so
much as the ridge of a roof. Although this peak was thus only just
visible, it stood 11,000 feet above the sea.

After we had examined the conditions here, and found out that on
the following day -- if the weather permitted -- we should reach the
plateau, we turned back, well satisfied with the result of our trip. We
all agreed that we were tired, and longing to reach camp and get some
food. The place where we turned was, according to the aneroid, 8,000
feet above the sea; we were therefore 2,500 feet higher than our tent
down on the hill-side. Going down in our old tracks was easier work,
though the return journey was somewhat monotonous. In many places the
slope was rapid, and not a few fine runs were made. On approaching
our camping-ground we had the sharpest descent, and here, reluctant
as we might be, we found it wiser to put both our poles together and
form a strong brake. We came down smartly enough, all the same. It
was a grand and imposing sight we had when we came out on the ridge
under which -- far below -- our tent stood. Surrounded on all sides by
huge crevasses and gaping chasms, it could not be said that the site
of our camp looked very inviting. The wildness of the landscape seen
from this point is not to be described; chasm after chasm, crevasse
after crevasse, with great blocks of ice scattered promiscuously about,
gave one the impression that here Nature was too powerful for us. Here
no progress was to be thought of.

It was not without a certain satisfaction that we stood there and
contemplated the scene. The little dark speck down there -- our
tent -- in the midst of this chaos, gave us a feeling of strength
and power. We knew in our hearts that the ground would have to be
ugly indeed if we were not to manoeuvre our way across it and find a
place for that little home of ours. Crash upon crash, roar upon roar,
met our ears. Now it was a shot from Mount Nansen, now from one of the
others; we could see the clouds of snow rise high into the air. It was
evident that these mountains were throwing off their winter mantles
and putting on a more spring-like garb.

We came at a tearing pace down to the tent, where our companions had
everything in most perfect order. The dogs lay snoring in the heat
of the sun, and hardly condescended to move when we came scudding
in among them. Inside the tent a regular tropical heat prevailed;
the sun was shining directly on to the red cloth and warming it. The
Primus hummed and hissed, and the pemmican-pot bubbled and spurted. We
desired nothing better in the world than to get in, fling ourselves
down, eat, and drink. The news we brought was no trifling matter --
the plateau to-morrow. It sounded almost too good to be true; we
had reckoned that it would take us ten days to get up, and now we
should do it in four. In this way we saved a great deal of dog food,
as we should be able to slaughter the superfluous animals six days
earlier than we had calculated. It was quite a little feast that
evening in the tent; not that we had any more to eat than usual --
we could not allow ourselves that -- but the thought of the fresh
dog cutlets that awaited us when we got to the top made our mouths
water. In course of time we had so habituated ourselves to the idea
of the approaching slaughter that this event did not appear to us
so horrible as it would otherwise have done. Judgment had already
been pronounced, and the selection made of those who were worthy of
prolonged life and those who were to be sacrificed. This had been,
I may add, a difficult problem to solve, so efficient were they all.

The rumblings continued all night, and one avalanche after another
exposed parts of the mountain-sides that had been concealed from
time immemorial. The following day, November 20, we were up and away
at the usual time, about 8 a.m. The weather was splendid, calm and
clear. Getting up over the saddle was a rough beginning of the day
for our dogs, and they gave a good account of themselves, pulling
the sledges up with single teams this time. The going was heavy,
as on the preceding day, and our advance through the loose snow was
not rapid. We did not follow our tracks of the day before, but laid
our course directly for the place where we had decided to attempt the
ascent. As we approached Mount Ole Engelstad, under which we had to
pass in order to come into the arm of the glacier between it and Mount
Nansen, our excitement began to rise. What does the end look like? Does
the glacier go smoothly on into the plateau, or is it broken up and
impassable? We rounded Mount Engelstad more and more; wider and wider
grew the opening. The surface looked extremely good as it gradually
came into view, and it did not seem as though our assumption of the
previous day would be put to shame. At last the whole landscape opened
out, and without obstruction of any kind whatever the last part of the
ascent lay before us. It was both long and steep from the look of it,
and we agreed to take a little rest before beginning the final attack.

We stopped right under Mount Engelstad in a warm and sunny place,
and allowed ourselves on this occasion a little lunch, an indulgence
that had not hitherto been permitted. The cooking-case was taken out,
and soon the Primus was humming in a way that told us it would not
be long before the chocolate was ready. It was a heavenly treat, that
drink. We had all walked ourselves warm, and our throats were as dry
as tinder. The contents of the pot were served round by the cook --
Hanssen. It was no use asking him to share alike; he could not be
persuaded to take more than half of what was due to him -- the rest he
had to divide among his comrades. The drink he had prepared this time
was what he called chocolate, but I had some difficulty in believing
him. He was economical, was Hanssen, and permitted no extravagance;
that could be seen very well by his chocolate. Well, after all, to
people who were accustomed to regard "bread and water" as a luxury,
it tasted, as I have said, heavenly. It was the liquid part of the
lunch that was served extra; if anyone wanted something to eat, he
had to provide it himself -- nothing was offered him. Happy was he
who had saved some biscuits from his breakfast! Our halt was not a
very long one. It is a queer thing that, when one only has on light
underclothing and windproof overalls, one cannot stand still for long
without feeling cold. Although the temperature was no lower than -4deg.
F., we were glad to be on the move again. The last ascent was fairly
hard work, especially the first half of it. We never expected to
do it with single teams, but tried it all the same. For this last
pull up I must give the highest praise both to the dogs and their
drivers; it was a brilliant performance on both sides. I can still
see the situation clearly before me. The dogs seemed positively
to understand that this was the last big effort that was asked of
them; they lay flat down and hauled, dug their claws in and dragged
themselves forward. But they had to stop and get breath pretty often,
and then the driver's strength was put to the test. It is no child's
play to set a heavily-laden sledge in motion time after time. How they
toiled, men and beasts, up that slope! But they got on, inch by inch,
until the steepest part was behind them. Before them lay the rest
of the ascent in a gentle rise, up which they could drive without a
stop. It was stiff, nevertheless, and it took a long time before we
were all up on the plateau on the southern side of Mount Engelstad.

We were very curious and anxious to see what the plateau
looked. like. We had expected a great, level plain,
extending boundlessly towards the south; but in this we were
disappointed. Towards the south-west it looked very level and fine,
but that was not the way we had to go. Towards the south the ground
continued to rise in long ridges running east and west, probably a
continuation of the mountain chain running to the south-east, or a
connection between it and the plateau. We stubbornly continued our
march; we would not give in until we had the plain itself before
us. Our hope was that the ridge projecting from Mount Don Pedro
Christophersen would be the last; we now had it before us. The
going changed at once up here; the loose snow disappeared, and a few
wind-waves (sastrugi) began to show themselves. These were specially
unpleasant to deal with on this last ridge; they lay from south-east
to north-west, and were as hard as flints and as sharp as knives. A
fall among them might have had very serious consequences. One would
have thought the dogs had had enough work that day to tire them,
but this last ridge, with its unpleasant snow-waves, did not seem
to trouble them in the least. We all drove up gaily, towed by the
sledges, on to what looked to us like the final plateau, and halted
at 8 p.m. The weather had held fine, and we could apparently see
a very long way. In the far distance, extending to the north-west,
rose peak after peak; this was the chain of mountains running to the
south-east, which we now saw from the other side. In our own vicinity,
on the other band, we saw nothing but the backs of the mountains so
frequently mentioned. We afterwards learned how deceptive the light
can be. I consulted the aneroid immediately on our arrival at the
camping-ground, and it showed 10,920 feet above the sea, which the
hypsometer afterwards confirmed. All the sledge-meters gave seventeen
geographical miles, or thirty-one kilometres (nineteen and a quarter
statute miles). This day's work -- nineteen and a quarter miles,
with an ascent of 5,750 feet -- gives us some idea of what can be
performed by dogs in good training. Our sledges still had what might
be considered heavy loads; it seems superfluous to give the animals
any other testimonial than the bare fact.

It was difficult to find a place for the tent, so hard was the snow
up here. We found one, however, and set the tent. Sleeping-bags
and kit-bags were handed in to me, as usual, through the tent-door,
and I arranged everything inside. The cooking-case and the necessary
provisions for that evening and the next morning were also passed in;
but the part of my work that went more quickly than usual that night
was getting the Primus started, and pumping it up to high-pressure. I
was hoping thereby to produce enough noise to deaden the shots that I
knew would soon be heard -- twenty-four of our brave companions and
faithful helpers were marked out for death. It was hard -- but it
had to be so. We had agreed to shrink from nothing in order to reach
our goal. Each man was to kill his own dogs to the number that had
been fixed.

The pemmican was cooked remarkably quickly that evening, and I believe
I was unusually industrious in stirring it. There went the first shot
-- I am not a nervous man, but I must admit that I gave a start. Shot
now followed upon shot -- they had an uncanny sound over the great
plain. A trusty servant lost his life each time. It was long before
the first man reported that he had finished; they were all to open
their dogs, and take out the entrails to prevent the meat being
contaminated. The entrails were for the most part devoured warm on
the spot by the victims' comrades, so voracious were they all. Suggen,
one of Wisting's dogs, was especially eager for warm entrails; after
enjoying this luxury, he could be seen staggering about in a quite
misshapen condition. Many of the dogs would not touch them at first,
but their appetite came after a while.

The holiday humour that ought to have prevailed in the tent that
evening -- our first on the plateau -- did not make its appearance;
there was depression and sadness in the air -- we had grown so fond
of our dogs. The place was named the "Butcher's Shop." It had been
arranged that we should stop here two days to rest and eat dog. There
was more than one among us who at first would not hear of taking any
part in this feast; but as time went by, and appetites became sharper,
this view underwent a change, until, during the last few days before
reaching the Butcher's Shop, we all thought and talked of nothing
but dog cutlets, dog steaks, and the like. But on this first evening
we put a restraint on ourselves; we thought we could not fall upon
our four-footed friends and devour them before they had had time to
grow cold.

We quickly found out that the Butcher's Shop was not a hospitable
locality. During the night the temperature sank, and violent gusts
of wind swept over the plain; they shook and tore at the tent, but
it would take more than that to get a hold of it. The dogs spent the
night in eating; we could hear the crunching and grinding of their
teeth whenever we were awake for a moment. The effect of the great and
sudden change of altitude made itself felt at once; when I wanted to
turn round in my bag, I had to do it a bit at a time, so as not to
get out of breath. That my comrades were affected in the same way,
I knew without asking them; my ears told me enough.

It was calm when we turned out, but the weather did not look
altogether promising; it was overcast and threatening. We occupied
the forenoon in flaying a number of dogs. As I have said, all the
survivors were not yet in a mood for dog's flesh, and it therefore
had to be served in the most enticing form. When flayed and cut up,
it went down readily all along the line; even the most fastidious
then overcame their scruples. But with the skin on we should not
have been able to persuade them all to eat that morning; probably
this distaste was due to the smell clinging to the skins, and I must
admit that it was not appetizing. The meat itself, as it lay there
cut up, looked well enough, in all conscience; no butcher's shop
could have exhibited a finer sight than we showed after flaying and
cutting up ten dogs. Great masses of beautiful fresh, red meat, with
quantities of the most tempting fat, lay spread over the snow. The
dogs went round and sniffed at it. Some helped themselves to a piece;
others were digesting. We men had picked out what we thought was
the youngest and tenderest one for ourselves. The whole arrangement
was left to Wisting, both the selection and the preparation of the
cutlets. His choice fell upon Rex, a beautiful little animal -- one
of his own dogs, by the way. With the skill of an expert, he hacked
and cut away what he considered would be sufficient for a meal. I
could not take my eyes off his work; the delicate little cutlets
had an absolutely hypnotizing effect as they were spread out one by
one over the snow. They recalled memories of old days, when no doubt
a dog cutlet would have been less tempting than now -- memories of
dishes on which the cutlets were elegantly arranged side by side,
with paper frills on the bones, and a neat pile of petits pois in
the middle. Ah, my thoughts wandered still farther afield -- but that
does not concern us now, nor has it anything to do with the South Pole.

I was aroused from my musings by Wisting digging his axe into the
snow as a sign that his work was done, after which he picked up the
cutlets, and went into the tent. The clouds had dispersed somewhat,
and from time to time the sun appeared, though not in its most genial
aspect. We succeeded in catching it just in time to get our latitude
determined -- 85deg. 36' S. We were lucky, as not long after the wind got
up from the east-south-east, and, before we knew what was happening,
everything was in a cloud of snow. But now we snapped our fingers
at the weather; what difference did it make to us if the wind howled
in the guy-ropes and the snow drifted? We had, in any case, made up
our minds to stay here for a while, and we had food in abundance. We
knew the dogs thought much the same so long as we have enough to eat,
let the weather go hang. Inside the tent Wisting was getting on well
when we came in after making these observations. The pot was on,
and, to judge by the savoury smell, the preparations were already far
advanced. The cutlets were not fried; we had neither frying-pan nor
butter. We could, no doubt, have got some lard out of the pemmican,
and we might have contrived some sort of a pan, so that we could
have fried them if it had been necessary; but we found it far easier
and quicker to boil them, and in this way we got excellent soup into
the bargain. Wisting knew his business surprisingly well; he had put
into the soup all those parts of the pemmican that contained most
vegetables, and now he served us the finest fresh meat soup with
vegetables in it. The clou of the repast was the dish of cutlets. If
we had entertained the slightest doubt of the quality of the meat,
this vanished instantly on the first trial. The meat was excellent,
quite excellent, and one cutlet after another disappeared with
lightning-like rapidity. I must admit that they would have lost
nothing by being a little more tender, but one must not expect too
much of a dog. At this first meal I finished five cutlets myself,
and looked in vain in the pot for more. Wisting appeared not to have
reckoned on such a brisk demand.

We employed the afternoon in going through our stock of provisions, and
dividing the whole of it among three sledges; the fourth -- Hassel's --
was to be left behind. The provisions were thus divided. Sledge No.1
(Wisting's) contained

Biscuits, 3,700 (daily ration, 40 biscuits per man).

Dogs' pemmican, 277 3/4 pounds (1/2 kilogram, or 1 pound 1 1/2 ounces
per dog per day).

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