The South Pole, Volume 2 by Roald Amundsen

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Next morning, November 29, brought considerably clearer weather,
and allowed us a very good survey of our position. We could now see
that the two mountain ranges uniting in 86deg. S. were continued in a
mighty chain running to the south-east, with summits from 10,000 to
15,000 feet. Mount Thorvald Nilsen was the most southerly we could
see from this point. Mounts Hanssen, Wisting, Bjaaland, and Hassel
formed, as we had thought the day before, a group by themselves,
and lay separated from the main range.

The drivers had a warm morning's work. They had to drive with great
circumspection and patience to grapple with the kind of ground we
had before us; a slight mistake might be enough to send both sledge
and dogs with lightning rapidity into the next world. It took,
nevertheless, a remarkably short time to cover the distance we had
explored on the previous evening; before we knew it, we were at
Hell's Gate.

Bjaaland took an excellent photograph here, which gives a very good
idea of the difficulties this part of the journey presented. In the
foreground, below the high snow-ridge that forms one side of a very
wide but partly filled-up crevasse, the marks of ski can be seen in the
snow. This was the photographer, who, in passing over this snow-bridge,
struck his ski into it to try the strength of the support. Close to
the tracks can be seen an open piece of the crevasse; it is a pale
blue at the top, but ends in the deepest black -- in a bottomless
abyss. The photographer got over the bridge and back with a whole skin,
but there could be no question of risking sledges and dogs on it, and
it can be seen in the photograph that the sledges have been turned
right round to try another way. The two small black figures in the
distance, on the right, are Hassel and I, who are reconnoitring ahead.

It was no very great distance that we put behind us that day-nine
and a quarter miles in a straight line. But, taking into account all
the turns and circuits we had been compelled to make, it was not so
short after all. We set our tent on a good, solid foundation, and were
well pleased with the day's work. The altitude was 8,960 feet above
the sea. The sun was now in the west, and shining directly upon the
huge mountain masses. It was a fairy landscape in blue and white, red
and black, a play of colours that defies description. Clear as it now
appeared to be, one could understand that the weather was not all that
could be wished, for the south-eastern end of Mount Thorvald Nilsen
lost itself in a dark, impenetrable cloud, which led one to suspect
a continuation in that direction, though one could not be certain.

Mount Nilsen -- ah! anything more beautiful, taking it altogether,
I have never seen. Peaks of the most varied forms rose high into the
air, partly covered with driving clouds. Some were sharp, but most
were long and rounded. Here and there one saw bright, shining glaciers
plunging wildly down the steep sides, and merging into the underlying
ground in fearful confusion. But the most remarkable of them all was
Mount Helmer Hanssen; its top was as round as the bottom of a bowl,
and covered by an extraordinary ice-sheet, which was so broken up and
disturbed that the blocks of ice bristled in every direction like the
quills of a porcupine. It glittered and burned in the sunlight -- a
glorious spectacle. There could only be one such mountain in the world,
and as a landmark it was priceless. We knew that we could not mistake
that, however the surroundings might appear on the return journey,
when possibly the conditions of lighting might be altogether different.

After camping, two of us went out to explore farther. The prospect from
the tent was not encouraging, but we might possibly find things better
than we expected. We were lucky to find the going so fine as it was
on the glacier; we had left our crampons behind at the Butcher's Shop,
and if we had found smooth ice, instead of a good, firm snow surface,
such as we now had, it would have caused us much trouble. Up --
still up, among monsters of crevasses, some of them hundreds of feet
wide and possibly thousands of feet deep. Our prospects of advancing
were certainly not bright; as far as we could see in the line of our
route one immense ridge towered above another, concealing on their
farther sides huge, wide chasms, which all had to be avoided. We went
forward -- steadily forward -- though the way round was both long and
troublesome. We had no rope on this time, as the irregularities were
so plain that it would have been difficult to go into them. It turned
out, however, at several points, that the rope would not have been
out of place. We were just going to cross over one of the numerous
ridges -- the surface here looked perfectly whole -- when a great
piece broke right under the back half of Hanssen's ski. We could
not deny ourselves the pleasure of glancing down into the hole. The
sight was not an inviting one, and we agreed to avoid this place when
we came on with our dogs and sledges. Every day we had occasion to
bless our ski. We often used to ask each other where we should now
have been without these excellent appliances. The usual answer was:
Most probably at the bottom of some crevasse. When we first read
the different accounts of the aspect and nature of the Barrier, it
was clear to all of us, who were born and bred with ski on our feet,
that these must be regarded as indispensable. This view was confirmed
and strengthened every day, and I am not giving too much credit to our
excellent ski when I say that they not only played a very important
part, but possibly the most important of all, on our journey to the
South Pole. Many a time we traversed stretches of surface so cleft
and disturbed that it would have been an impossibility to get over
them on foot. I need scarcely insist on the advantages of ski in deep,
loose snow.

After advancing for two hours, we decided to return. From the raised
ridge on which we were then standing, the surface ahead of us looked
more promising than ever; but we had so often been deceived on the
glacier that we had now become definitely sceptical. How often,
for instance, had we thought that beyond this or that undulation
our trials would be at an end, and that the way to the south would
lie open and free; only to reach the place and find that the ground
behind the ridge was, if possible, worse than what we had already been
struggling with. But this time we seemed somehow to feel victory in
the air. The formations appeared to promise it, and yet -- had we been
so often deceived by these formations that we now refused to offer
them a thought? Was it possibly instinct that told us this? I do not
know, but certain it is that Hanssen and I agreed, as we stood there
discussing our prospects, that behind the farthest ridge we saw, we
should conquer the glacier. We had a feverish desire to go and have
a look at it; but the way round the many crevasses was long, and --
I may as well admit it -- we were beginning to get tired. The return,
downhill as it was, did not take long, and soon we were able to tell
our comrades that the prospects for the morrow were very promising.

While we had been away, Hassel had measured the Nilsen Mountain,
and found its height to be 15,500 feet above the sea. How well
I remember that evening, when we stood contemplating the glorious
sight that Nature offered, and believing the air to be so clear that
anything within range of vision must have shown itself; and how well,
too, I remember our astonishment on the return journey on finding
the whole landscape completely transformed! If it had not been for
Mount Helmer Hanssen, it would have been difficult for us to know
where we were. The atmosphere in these regions may play the most
awkward tricks. Absolutely clear as it seemed to us that evening,
it nevertheless turned out later that it had been anything but
clear. One has, therefore, to be very careful about what one sees
or does not see. In most cases it has proved that travellers in the
Polar regions have been more apt to see too much than too little;
if, however, we had charted this tract as we saw it the first time,
a great part of the mountain ranges would have been omitted.

During the night a gale sprang up from the south-east, and blew so
that it howled in the guy-ropes of the tent; it was well that the
tent-pegs had a good hold. In the morning, while we were at breakfast,
it was still blowing, and we had some thoughts of waiting for a time;
but suddenly, without warning, the wind dropped to such an extent
that all our hesitation vanished. What a change the south-east wind
had produced! The splendid covering of snow that the day before had
made ski-running a pleasure, was now swept away over great stretches
of surface, exposing the hard substratum. Our thoughts flew back;
the crampons we had left behind seemed to dance before my eyes,
backwards and forwards, grinning and pointing fingers at me. It would
be a nice little extra trip back to the Butcher's to fetch them.

Meanwhile, we packed and made everything ready. The tracks of the day
before were not easy to follow; but if we lost them now and again
on the smooth ice surface, we picked them up later on a snow-wave
that had resisted the attack of the wind. It was hard and strenuous
work for the drivers. The sledges were difficult to manage over the
smooth, sloping ice; sometimes they went straight, but just as often
cross-wise, requiring sharp attention to keep them from capsizing. And
this had to be prevented at all costs, as the thin provision cases
would not stand many bumps on the ice; besides which, it was such
hard work righting the sledges again that for this reason alone
the drivers exercised the greatest care. The sledges were put to a
severe test that day, with the many great and hard irregularities we
encountered on the glacier; it is a wonder they survived it, and is
a good testimonial for Bjaaland's work.

The glacier that day presented the worst confusion we had yet had
to deal with. Hassel and I went in front, as usual, with the rope
on. Up to the spot Hanssen and I had reached the evening before our
progress was comparatively easy; one gets on so much quicker when one
knows that the way is practicable. After this point it became worse;
indeed, it was often so bad that we had to stop for a long time and
try in various directions, before finding a way. More than once the
axe had to be used to hack away obstructions. At one time things
looked really serious; chasm after chasm, hummock after hummock, so
high and steep that they were like mountains. Here we went out and
explored in every direction to find a passage; at last we found one,
if, indeed, it deserved the name of a passage. It was a bridge so
narrow that it scarcely allowed room for the width of the sledge;
a fearful abyss on each side. The crossing of this place reminded
me of the tight-rope walker going over Niagara. It was a good thing
none of us was subject to giddiness, and that the dogs did not know
exactly what the result of a false step would be.

On the other side of this bridge we began to go downhill, and our
course now lay in a long valley between lofty undulations on each
side. It tried our patience severely to advance here, as the line of
the hollow was fairly long and ran due west. We tried several times
to lay our course towards the south and clamber up the side of the
undulation, but these efforts did not pay us. We could always get up on
to the ridge, but we could not come down again on the other side; there
was nothing to be done but to follow the natural course of the valley
until it took us into the tract lying to the south. It was especially
the drivers whose patience was sorely tried, and I could see them now
and then take a turn up to the top of the ridge, not satisfied with
the exploration Hassel and I had made. But the result was always the
same; they had to submit to Nature's caprices and follow in our tracks.

Our course along this natural line was not entirely free from
obstruction; crevasses of various dimensions constantly crossed our
path. The ridge or undulation, at the top of which we at last arrived,
had quite an imposing effect. It terminated on the east in a steep drop
to the underlying surface, and attained at this point a height of over
100 feet. On the west it sloped gradually into the lower ground and
allowed us to advance that way. In order to have a better view of the
surroundings we ascended the eastern and highest part of the ridge,
and from here we at once had a confirmation of our supposition of the
day before. The ridge we had then seen, behind which we hoped to find
better conditions, could now be seen a good way ahead. And what we
then saw made our hearts beat fast with joy. Could that great white,
unbroken plain over there be real, or was it only an illusion? Time
would show.

Meanwhile Hassel and I jogged on, and the others followed. We had
to get through a good many difficulties yet before we reached that
point, but, compared with all the breakneck places we had already
crossed, these were of a comparatively tame description. It was
with a sigh of relief that we arrived at the plain that promised so
well; its extent was not very great, but we were not very exacting
either in this respect, after our last few days' march over the
broken surface. Farther to the south we could still see great masses
piled up by pressure, but the intervals between them were very great
and the surface was whole. This was, then, the first time since we
tackled the Devil's Glacier that we were able to steer true south
for a few minutes.

As we progressed, it could be seen that we had really come upon another
kind of ground; for once we had not been made fools of. Not that we
had an unbroken, level surface to go upon -- it would be a long time
before we came to that -- but we were able to keep our course for long
stretches at a time. The huge crevasses became rarer, and so filled up
at both ends that we were able to cross them without going a long way
round. There was new life in all of us, both dogs and men, and we went
rapidly southward. As we advanced, the conditions improved more and
more. We could see in the distance some huge dome-shaped formations,
that seemed to tower high into the air: these turned out to be the
southernmost limit of the big crevasses and to form the transition
to the third phase of the glacier.

It was a stiff climb to get up these domes, which were fairly high
and swept smooth by the wind. They lay straight in our course, and
from their tops we had a good view. The surface we were entering upon
was quite different from that on the northern side of the domes. Here
the big crevasses were entirely filled with snow and might be crossed
anywhere. What specially attracted one's attention here was an immense
number of small formations in the shape of haycocks. Great stretches
of the surface were swept bare, exposing the smooth ice.

It was evident that these various formations or phases in the glacier
were due to the underlying ground. The first tract we had passed,
where the confusion was so extreme, must be the part that lay
nearest the bare land; in proportion as the glacier left the land,
it became less disturbed: In the haycock district the disturbance
had not produced cracks in the surface to any extent, only upheaval
here and there. How these haycocks were formed and what they looked
like inside we were soon to find out. It was a pleasure to be able to
advance all the time, instead of constantly turning and going round;
only once or twice did we have to turn aside for the larger haycocks,
otherwise we kept our course. The great, clean-swept stretches of
surface that we came upon from time to time were split in every
direction, but the cracks were very narrow -- about half an inch wide.

We had difficulty in finding a place for the tent that evening;
the surface was equally hard everywhere, and at last we had to set
it on the bare ice. Luckily for our tent-pegs, this ice was not of
the bright, steely variety; it was more milky in appearance and
not so hard, and we were thus able to knock in the pegs with the
axe. When the tent was up, Hassel went out as usual to fetch snow
for the cooker. As a rule he performed this task with a big knife,
specially made for snow; but this evening he went out armed with an
axe. He was very pleased with the abundant and excellent material
that lay to his hand; there was no need to go far. Just outside the
tent door, two feet away, stood a fine little haycock, that looked
as if it would serve the purpose well. Hassel raised his axe and
gave a good sound blow; the axe met with no resistance, and went in
up to the haft. The haycock was hollow. As the axe was pulled out
the surrounding part gave way, and one could hear the pieces of ice
falling down through the dark hole. It appeared, then, that two feet
from our door we had a most convenient way down into the cellar. Hassel
looked as if he enjoyed the situation. "Black as a sack," he smiled;
"couldn't see any bottom." Hanssen was beaming; no doubt he would
have liked the tent a little nearer. The material provided by the
haycock was of the best quality, and well adapted for cooking purposes.

The next day, December 1, was a very fatiguing one for us all. From
early morning a blinding blizzard raged from the south-east,
with a heavy fall of snow. The going was of the very worst kind --
polished ice. I stumbled forward on ski, and had comparatively easy
work. The drivers had been obliged to take off their ski and put
them on the loads, so as to walk by the side, support the sledges,
and give the dogs help when they came to a difficult place; and that
was pretty often, for on this smooth ice surface there were a number
of small scattered sastrugi, and these consisted of a kind of snow
that reminded one more of fish-glue than of anything else when the
sledges came in contact with it. The dogs could get no hold with
their claws on the smooth ice, and when the sledge came on to one
of these tough little waves, they could not manage to haul it over,
try as they might. The driver then had to put all his strength into
it to prevent the sledge stopping. Thus in most cases the combined
efforts of men and dogs carried the sledge on.

In the course of the afternoon the surface again began to be more
disturbed, and great crevasses crossed our path time after time. These
crevasses were really rather dangerous; they looked very innocent,
as they were quite filled up with snow, but on a nearer acquaintance
with them we came to understand that they were far more hazardous
than we dreamed of at first. It turned out that between the loose
snow-filling and the firm ice edges there was a fairly broad, open
space, leading straight down into the depths. The layer of snow
which covered it over was in most cases quite thin. In driving out
into one of these snow-filled crevasses nothing happened as a rule;
but it was in getting off on the other side that the critical moment
arrived. For here the dogs came up on to the smooth ice surface, and
could get no hold for their claws, with the result that it was left
entirely to the driver to haul the the sledge up. The strong pull he
then had to give sent him through the thin layer of snow. Under these
circumstances he took a good, firm hold of the sledge-lashing, or of
a special strap that had been made with a view to these accidents. But
familiarity breeds contempt, even with the most cautious, and some of
the drivers were often within an ace of going down into "the cellar."

If this part of the journey was trying for the dogs, it was certainly
no less so for the men. If the weather had even been fine, so that we
could have looked about us, we should not have minded it so much, but
in this vile weather it was, indeed, no pleasure. Our time was also
a good deal taken up with thawing noses and cheeks as they froze --
not that we stopped; we had no time for that. We simply took off a mit,
and laid the warm hand on the frozen spot as we went; when we thought
we had restored sensation, we put the hand back into the mit. By
this time it would want warming. One does not keep one's hands bare
for long with the thermometer several degrees below zero and a storm
blowing. In spite of the unfavourable conditions we had been working
in, the sledge-meters that evening showed a distance of fifteen and a
half miles. We were well satisfied with the day's work when we camped.

Let us cast a glance into the tent this evening. It looks cosy
enough. The inner half of the tent is occupied by three sleeping-bags,
whose respective owners have found it both comfortable and expedient
to turn in, and may now be seen engaged with their diaries. The outer
half -- that nearest the door -- has only two sleeping-bags, but
the rest of the space is taken up with the whole cooking apparatus
of the expedition. The owners of these two bags are still sitting
up. Hanssen is cook, and will not turn in until the food is ready and
served. Wisting is his sworn comrade and assistant, and is ready to
lend him any aid that may be required. Hanssen appears to be a careful
cook; he evidently does not like to burn the food, and his spoon stirs
the contents of the pot incessantly. "Soup!" The effect of the word
is instantaneous. Everyone sits up at once with a cup in one hand and
a spoon in the other. Each one in his turn has his cup filled with
what looks like the most tasty vegetable soup. Scalding hot it is,
as one can see by the faces, but for all that it disappears with
surprising rapidity. Again the cups are filled, this time with more
solid stuff pemmican. With praiseworthy despatch their contents are
once more demolished, and they are filled for the third time. There is
nothing the matter with these men's appetites. The cups are carefully
scraped, and the enjoyment of bread and water begins. It is easy to
see, too, that it is an enjoyment -- greater, to judge by the pleasure
on their faces, than the most skilfully devised menu could afford. They
positively caress the biscuits before they eat them. And the water --
ice-cold water they all call for -- this also disappears in great
quantities, and procures, I feel certain from their expression,
a far greater pleasure and satisfaction than the finest wine that
was ever produced. The Primus hums softly during the whole meal,
and the temperature in the tent is quite pleasant.

When the meal is over, one of them calls for scissors and
looking-glass, and then one may see the Polar explorers dressing their
hair for the approaching Sunday. The beard is cut quite short with the
clipper every Saturday evening; this is done not so much from motives
of vanity as from considerations of utility and comfort. The beard
invites an accumulation of ice, which may often be very embarrassing. A
beard in the Polar regions seems to me to be just as awkward and
unpractical as -- well, let us say, walking with a tall hat on each
foot. As the beard-clipper and the mirror make their round, one
after the other disappears into his bag, and with five "Good-nights,"
silence falls upon the tent. The regular breathing soon announces that
the day's work demands its tribute. Meanwhile the south-easter howls,
and the snow beats against the tent. The dogs have curled themselves
up, and do not seem to trouble themselves about the weather.

The storm continued unabated on the following day, and on account of
the dangerous nature of the ground we decided to wait awhile. In the
course of the morning -- towards noon, perhaps -- the wind dropped
a little, and out we went. The sun peeped through at times, and
we took the welcome opportunity of getting an altitude -- 86deg. 47'
S. was the result.

At this camp we left behind all our delightful reindeer-skin clothing,
as we could see that we should have no use for it, the temperature
being far too high. We kept the hoods of our reindeer coats, however;
we might be glad of them in going against the wind. Our day's march
was not to be a long one; the little slackening of the wind about
midday was only a joke. It soon came on again in earnest, with a
sweeping blizzard from the same quarter -- the south-east. If we
had known the ground, we should possibly have gone on; but in this
storm and driving snow, which prevented our keeping our eyes open,
it was no use. A serious accident might happen and ruin all. Two and
half miles was therefore our whole distance. The temperature when we
camped was -5.8deg. F. Height above the sea, 9,780 feet.

In the course of the night the wind veered from south-east to north,
falling light, and the weather cleared. This was a good chance for us,
and we were not slow to avail ourselves of it. A gradually rising ice
surface lay before us, bright as a mirror. As on the preceding days,
I stumbled along in front on ski, while the others, without their ski,
had to follow and support the sledges. The surface still offered filled
crevasses, though perhaps less frequently than before. Meanwhile small
patches of snow began to show themselves on the polished surface,
and soon increased in number and size, until before very long they
united and covered the unpleasant ice with a good and even layer of
snow. Then ski were put on again, and we continued our way to the
south with satisfaction.

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