The South Pole, Volume 2 by Roald Amundsen

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We were all rejoicing that we had now conquered this treacherous
glacier, and congratulating ourselves on having at last arrived on
the actual plateau. As we were going along, feeling pleased about
this, a ridge suddenly appeared right ahead, telling us plainly that
perhaps all our sorrows were not yet ended. The ground had begun
to sink a little, and as we came nearer we could see that we had to
cross a rather wide, but not deep, valley before we arrived under the
ridge. Great lines of hummocks and haycock-shaped pieces of ice came
in view on every side; we could see that we should have to keep our
eyes open.

And now we came to the formation in the glacier that we called the
Devil's Ballroom. Little by little the covering of snow that we had
praised in such high terms disappeared, and before us lay this wide
valley, bare and gleaming. At first it went well enough; as it was
downhill, we were going at a good pace on the smooth ice. Suddenly
Wisting's sledge cut into the surface, and turned over on its
side. We all knew what had happened -- one of the runners was in
a crevasse. Wisting set to work, with the assistance of Hassel,
to raise the sledge, and take it out of its dangerous position;
meanwhile Bjaaland had got out his camera and was setting it
up. Accustomed as we were to such incidents, Hanssen and I were
watching the scene from a point a little way in advance, where we had
arrived when it happened. As the photography took rather a long time,
I assumed that the crevasse was one of the filled ones and presented no
particular danger, but that Bjaaland wanted to have a souvenir among
his photographs of the numerous crevasses and ticklish situations
we had been exposed to. As to the crack being filled up, there was
of course no need to inquire. I hailed them, and asked how they were
getting on. "Oh, all right," was the answer; "we've just finished." --
"What does the crevasse look like?" -- "Oh, as usual," they shouted
back; "no bottom." I mention this little incident just to show how
one can grow accustomed to anything in this world. There were these
two -- Wisting and Hassel -- lying over a yawning, bottomless abyss,
and having their photograph taken; neither of them gave a thought
to the serious side of the situation. To judge from the laughter and
jokes we heard, one would have thought their position was something
quite different.

When the photographer had quietly and leisurely finished his work
-- he got a remarkably good picture of the scene -- the other two
together raised the sledge, and the journey was continued. It was at
this crevasse that we entered his Majesty's Ballroom. The surface
did not really look bad. True, the snow was blown away, which made
it difficult to advance, but we did not see many cracks. There were
a good many pressure-masses, as already mentioned, but even in the
neighbourhood of these we could not see any marked disturbance. The
first sign that the surface was more treacherous than it appeared to
be was when Hanssen's leading dogs went right through the apparently
solid floor. They remained hanging by their harness, and were easily
pulled up again. When we looked through the hole they had made in the
crust, it did not give us the impression of being very dangerous, as,
2 or 3 feet below the outer crust, there lay another surface, which
appeared to consist of pulverized ice. We assumed that this lower
surface was the solid one, and that therefore there was no danger
in falling through the upper one. But Bjaaland was able to tell us
a different story. He had, in fact, fallen through the outer crust,
and was well on his way through the inner one as well, when he got
hold of a loop of rope on his sledge and saved himself in the nick of
time. Time after time the dogs now fell through, and time after time
the men went in. The effect of the open space between the two crusts
was that the ground under our feet sounded unpleasantly hollow as we
went over it. The drivers whipped up their dogs as much as they could,
and with shouts and brisk encouragement they went rapidly over the
treacherous floor. Fortunately this curious formation was not of great
extent, and we soon began to observe a change for the better as we came
up the ridge. It soon appeared that the Ballroom was the glacier's last
farewell to us. With it all irregularities ceased, and both surface
and going improved by leaps and bounds, so that before very long we
had the satisfaction of seeing that at last we had really conquered
all these unpleasant difficulties. The surface at once became fine
and even, with a splendid covering of snow everywhere, and we went
rapidly on our way to the south with a feeling of security and safety.

CHAPTER XII

At the Pole

In lat. 87deg. S. -- according to dead reckoning -- we saw the last of the
land to the north-east. The atmosphere was then apparently as clear
as could be, and we felt certain that our view covered all the land
there was to be seen from that spot. We were deceived again on this
occasion, as will be seen later. Our distance that day (December 4)
was close upon twenty-five miles; height above the sea, 10,100 feet.

The weather did not continue fine for long. Next day (December 5) there
was a gale from the north, and once more the whole plain was a mass
of drifting snow. In addition to this there was thick falling snow,
which blinded us and made things worse, but a feeling of security had
come over us and helped us to advance rapidly and without hesitation,
although we could see nothing. That day we encountered new surface
conditions -- big, hard snow-waves (sastrugi). These were anything
but pleasant to work among, especially when one could not see them. It
was of no use for us "forerunners" to think of going in advance under
these circumstances, as it was impossible to keep on one's feet. Three
or four paces was often the most we managed to do before falling
down. The sastrugi were very high, and often abrupt; if one came on
them unexpectedly, one required to be more than an acrobat to keep on
one's feet. The plan we found to work best in these conditions was to
let Hanssen's dogs go first; this was an unpleasant job for Hanssen,
and for his dogs too, but it succeeded, and succeeded well. An upset
here and there was, of course, unavoidable, but with a little patience
the sledge was always righted again. The drivers had as much as they
could do to support their sledges among these sastrugi, but while
supporting the sledges, they had at the same time a support for
themselves. It was worse for us who had no sledges, but by keeping
in the wake of them we could see where the irregularities lay, and
thus get over them. Hanssen deserves a special word of praise for his
driving on this surface in such weather. It is a difficult matter to
drive Eskimo dogs forward when they cannot see; but Hanssen managed it
well, both getting the dogs on and steering his course by compass. One
would not think it possible to keep an approximately right course
when the uneven ground gives such violent shocks that the needle flies
several times round the compass, and is no sooner still again than it
recommences the same dance; but when at last we got an observation,
it turned out that Hanssen had steered to a hair, for the observations
and dead reckoning agreed to a mile. In spite of all hindrances,
and of being able to see nothing, the sledge-meters showed nearly
twenty-five miles. The hypsometer showed 11,070 feet above the sea;
we had therefore reached a greater altitude than the Butcher's.

December 6 brought the same weather: thick snow, sky and plain all
one, nothing to be seen. Nevertheless we made splendid progress. The
sastrugi gradually became levelled out, until the surface was
perfectly smooth; it was a relief to have even ground to go upon
once more. These irregularities that one was constantly falling over
were a nuisance; if we had met with them in our usual surroundings
it would not have mattered so much; but up here on the high ground,
where we had to stand and gasp for breath every time we rolled over,
it was certainly not pleasant.

That day we passed 88deg. S., and camped in 88deg. 9' S. A great surprise
awaited us in the tent that evening. I expected to find, as on the
previous evening, that the boiling-point had fallen somewhat; in
other words, that it would show a continued rise of the ground, but
to our astonishment this was not so. The water boiled at exactly the
same temperature as on the preceding day. I tried it several times,
to convince myself that there was nothing wrong, each time with the
same result. There was great rejoicing among us all when I was able
to announce that we had arrived on the top of the plateau.

December 7 began like the 6th, with absolutely thick weather, but, as
they say, you never know what the day is like before sunset. Possibly
I might have chosen a better expression than this last -- one
more in agreement with the natural conditions -- but I will let it
stand. Though for several weeks now the sun had not set, my readers
will not be so critical as to reproach me with inaccuracy. With a
light wind from the north-east, we now went southward at a good
speed over the perfectly level plain, with excellent going. The
uphill work had taken it out of our dogs, though not to any serious
extent. They had turned greedy -- there is no denying that -- and the
half kilo of pemmican they got each day was not enough to fill their
stomachs. Early and late they were looking for something -- no matter
what -- to devour. To begin with they contented themselves with such
loose objects as ski-bindings, whips, boots, and the like; but as
we came to know their proclivities, we took such care of everything
that they found no extra meals lying about. But that was not the end
of the matter. They then went for the fixed lashings of the sledges,
and -- if we had allowed it -- would very quickly have resolved the
various sledges into their component parts. But we found a way of
stopping that: every evening, on halting, the sledges were buried
in the snow, so as to hide all the lashings. That was successful;
curiously enough, they never tried to force the "snow rampart." I
may mention as a curious thing that these ravenous animals, that
devoured everything they came across, even to the ebonite points of
our ski-sticks, never made any attempt to break into the provision
cases. They lay there and went about among the sledges with their
noses just on a level with the split cases, seeing and scenting the
pemmican, without once making a sign of taking any. But if one raised
a lid, they were not long in showing themselves. Then they all came
in a great hurry and flocked about the sledges in the hope of getting
a little extra bit. I am at a loss to explain this behaviour; that
bashfulness was not at the root of it, I am tolerably certain.

During the forenoon the thick, grey curtain of cloud began to grow
thinner on the horizon, and for the first time for three days we could
see a few miles about us. The feeling was something like that one has
on waking from a good nap, rubbing one's eyes and looking around. We
had become so accustomed to the grey twilight that this positively
dazzled us. Meanwhile, the upper layer of air seemed obstinately
to remain the same and to be doing its best to prevent the sun
from showing itself. We badly wanted to get a meridian altitude,
so that we could determine our latitude. Since 86deg. 47' S. we had
had no observation, and it was not easy to say when we should get
one. Hitherto, the weather conditions on the high ground had not
been particularly favourable. Although the prospects were not very
promising, we halted at 11 a.m. and made ready to catch the sun if
it should be kind enough to look out. Hassel and Wisting used one
sextant and artificial horizon, Hanssen and I the other set.

I don't know that I have ever stood and absolutely pulled at the sun
to get it out as I did that time. If we got an observation here which
agreed with our reckoning, then it would be possible, if the worst came
to the worst, to go to the Pole on dead reckoning; but if we got none
now, it was a question whether our claim to the Pole would be admitted
on the dead reckoning we should be able to produce. Whether my pulling
helped or not, it is certain that the sun appeared. It was not very
brilliant to begin with, but, practised as we now were in availing
ourselves of even the poorest chances, it was good enough. Down it
came, was checked by all, and the altitude written down. The curtain
of cloud was rent more and more, and before we had finished our work --
that is to say, caught the sun at its highest, and convinced ourselves
that it was descending again -- it was shining in all its glory. We had
put away our instruments and were sitting on the sledges, engaged in
the calculations. I can safely say that we were excited. What would the
result be, after marching blindly for so long and over such impossible
ground, as we had been doing? We added and subtracted, and at last
there was the result. We looked at each other in sheer incredulity:
the result was as astonishing as the most consummate conjuring trick
-- 88deg. 16' S., precisely to a minute the same as our reckoning, 88deg.
16' S. If we were forced to go to the Pole on dead reckoning, then
surely the most exacting would admit our right to do so. We put away
our observation books, ate one or two biscuits, and went at it again.

We had a great piece of work before us that day nothing less than
carrying our flag farther south than the foot of man had trod. We
had our silk flag ready; it was made fast to two ski-sticks and laid
on Hanssen's sledge. I had given him orders that as soon as we had
covered the distance to 88deg.S., which was Shackleton's farthest south,
the flag was to be hoisted on his sledge. It was my turn as forerunner,
and I pushed on. There was no longer any difficulty in holding one's
course; I had the grandest cloud-formations to steer by, and everything
now went like a machine. First came the forerunner for the time being,
then Hanssen, then Wisting, and finally Bjaaland. The forerunner who
was not on duty went where he liked; as a rule he accompanied one
or other of the sledges. I had long ago fallen into a reverie --
far removed from the scene in which I was moving; what I thought
about I do not remember now, but I was so preoccupied that I had
entirely forgotten my surroundings. Then suddenly I was roused from
my dreaming by a jubilant shout, followed by ringing cheers. I turned
round quickly to discover the reason of this unwonted occurrence,
and stood speechless and overcome.

I find it impossible to express the feelings that possessed me at
this moment. All the sledges had stopped, and from the foremost of
them the Norwegian flag was flying. It shook itself out, waved and
flapped so that the silk rustled; it looked wonderfully well in the
pure, clear air and the shining white surroundings. 88deg. 23' was past;
we were farther south than any human being had been. No other moment
of the whole trip affected me like this. The tears forced their way
to my eyes; by no effort of will could I keep them back. It was the
flag yonder that conquered me and my will. Luckily I was some way in
advance of the others, so that I had time to pull myself together and
master my feelings before reaching my comrades. We all shook hands,
with mutual congratulations; we had won our way far by holding
together, and we would go farther yet -- to the end.

We did not pass that spot without according our highest tribute of
admiration to the man, who -- together with his gallant companions
-- had planted his country's flag so infinitely nearer to the
goal than any of his precursors. Sir Ernest Shackleton's name will
always be written in the annals of Antarctic exploration in letters
of fire. Pluck and grit can work wonders, and I know of no better
example of this than what that man has accomplished.

The cameras of course had to come out, and we got an excellent
photograph of the scene which none of us will ever forget. We went
on a couple of miles more, to 88deg. 25', and then camped. The weather
had improved, and kept on improving all the time. It was now almost
perfectly calm, radiantly clear, and, under the circumstances, quite
summer-like: -0.4deg. F. Inside the tent it was quite sultry. This was
more than we had expected.

After much consideration and discussion we had come to the conclusion
that we ought to lay down a depot -- the last one -- at this spot. The
advantages of lightening our sledges were so great that we should
have to risk it. Nor would there be any great risk attached to it,
after all, since we should adopt a system of marks that would lead
even a blind man back to the place. We had determined to mark it not
only at right angles to our course -- that is, from east to west --
but by snow beacons at every two geographical miles to the south.

We stayed here on the following day to arrange this depot. Hanssen's
dogs were real marvels, all of them; nothing seemed to have any effect
on them. They had grown rather thinner, of course, but they were still
as strong as ever. It was therefore decided not to lighten Hanssen's
sledge, but only the two others; both Wisting's and Bjaaland's teams
had suffered, especially the latter's. The reduction in weight that
was effected was considerable -- nearly 110 pounds on each of the
two sledges; there was thus about 220 pounds in the depot. The snow
here was ill-adapted for building, but we put up quite a respectable
monument all the same. It was dogs' pemmican and biscuits that
were left behind; we carried with us on the sledges provisions for
about a month. If, therefore, contrary to expectation, we should be
so unlucky as to miss this depot, we should nevertheless be fairly
sure of reaching our depot in 86deg. 21' before supplies ran short. The
cross-marking of the depot was done with sixty splinters of black
packing-case on each side, with 100 paces between each. Every other
one had a shred of black cloth on the top. The splinters on the east
side were all marked, so that on seeing them we should know instantly
that we were to the east of the depot. Those on the west had no marks.

The warmth of the past few days seemed to have matured our frost-sores,
and we presented an awful appearance. It was Wisting, Hanssen, and
I who had suffered the worst damage in the last south-east blizzard;
the left side of our faces was one mass of sore, bathed in matter and
serum. We looked like the worst type of tramps and ruffians, and would
probably not have been recognized by our nearest relations. These
sores were a great trouble to us during the latter part of the
journey. The slightest gust of wind produced a sensation as if one's
face were being cut backwards and forwards with a blunt knife. They
lasted a long time, too; I can remember Hanssen removing the last
scab when we were coming into Hobart -- three months later. We were
very lucky in the weather during this depot work; the sun came out
all at once, and we had an excellent opportunity of taking some good
azimuth observations, the last of any use that we got on the journey.

December 9 arrived with the same fine weather and sunshine. True,
we felt our frost-sores rather sharply that day, with -18.4deg. F. and
a little breeze dead against us, but that could not be helped. We
at once began to put up beacons -- a work which was continued with
great regularity right up to the Pole. These beacons were not so big
as those we had built down on the Barrier; we could see that they
would be quite large enough with a height of about 3 feet, as it
was, very easy to see the slightest irregularity on this perfectly
flat surface. While thus engaged we had an opportunity of becoming
thoroughly acquainted with the nature of the snow. Often -- very often
indeed -- on this part of the plateau, to the south of 88deg. 25', we had
difficulty in getting snow good enough -- that is, solid enough for
cutting blocks. The snow up here seemed to have fallen very quietly,
in light breezes or calms. We could thrust the tent-pole, which was
6 feet long, right down without meeting resistance, which showed that
there was no hard layer of snow. The surface was also perfectly level;
there was not a sign of sastrugi in any direction.

Every step we now took in advance brought us rapidly nearer the goal;
we could feel fairly certain of reaching it on the afternoon of the
14th. It was very natural that our conversation should be chiefly
concerned with the time of arrival. None of us would admit that he
was nervous, but I am inclined to think that we all had a little
touch of that malady. What should we see when we got there? A vast,
endless plain, that no eye had yet seen and no foot yet trodden; or --
No, it was an impossibility; with the speed at which we had travelled,
we must reach the goal first, there could be no doubt about that. And
yet -- and yet -- Wherever there is the smallest loophole, doubt creeps
in and gnaws and gnaws and never leaves a poor wretch in peace. "What
on earth is Uroa scenting?" It was Bjaaland who made this remark,
on one of these last days, when I was going by the side of his sledge
and talking to him. "And the strange thing is that he's scenting to
the south. It can never be -- " Mylius, Ring, and Suggen, showed the
same interest in the southerly direction; it was quite extraordinary
to see how they raised their heads, with every sign of curiosity,
put their noses in the air, and sniffed due south. One would really
have thought there was something remarkable to be found there.

From 88deg. 25' S. the barometer and hypsometer indicated slowly but
surely that the plateau was beginning to descend towards the other
side. This was a pleasant surprise to us; we had thus not only found
the very summit of the plateau, but also the slope down on the far
side. This would have a very important bearing for obtaining an idea
of the construction of the whole plateau. On December 9 observations
and dead reckoning agreed within a mile. The same result again on
the 10th: observation 2 kilometres behind reckoning. The weather
and going remained about the same as on the preceding days: light
south-easterly breeze, temperature -18.4deg. F. The snow surface was
loose, but ski and sledges glided over it well. On the 11th, the same
weather conditions. Temperature -13deg. F. Observation and reckoning
again agreed exactly. Our latitude was 89deg. 15' S. On the 12th we
reached 89deg. 30', reckoning 1 kilometre behind observation. Going and
surface as good as ever. Weather splendid -- calm with sunshine. The
noon observation on the 13th gave 89deg. 37' S. Reckoning 89deg. 38.5'
S. We halted in the afternoon, after going eight geographical miles,
and camped in 89deg. 45', according to reckoning.

The weather during the forenoon had been just as fine as before;
in the afternoon we had some snow-showers from the south-east. It
was like the eve of some great festival that night in the tent. One
could feel that a great event was at hand. Our flag was taken out
again and lashed to the same two ski-sticks as before. Then it was
rolled up and laid aside, to be ready when the time came. I was
awake several times during the night, and had the same feeling that
I can remember as a little boy on the night before Christmas Eve --
an intense expectation of what was going to happen. Otherwise I think
we slept just as well that night as any other.

On the morning of December 14 the weather was of the finest, just as
if it had been made for arriving at the Pole. I am not quite sure,
but I believe we despatched our breakfast rather more quickly than
usual and were out of the tent sooner, though I must admit that we
always accomplished this with all reasonable haste. We went in the
usual order -- the forerunner, Hanssen, Wisting, Bjaaland, and the
reserve forerunner. By noon we had reached 89deg. 53' by dead reckoning,
and made ready to take the rest in one stage. At 10 a.m. a light
breeze had sprung up from the south-east, and it had clouded over,
so that we got no noon altitude; but the clouds were not thick, and
from time to time we had a glimpse of the sun through them. The going
on that day was rather different from what it had been; sometimes the
ski went over it well, but at others it was pretty bad. We advanced
that day in the same mechanical way as before; not much was said,
but eyes were used all the more. Hanssen's neck grew twice as long
as before in his endeavour to see a few inches farther. I had asked
him before we started to spy out ahead for all he was worth, and he
did so with a vengeance. But, however keenly he stared, he could not
descry anything but the endless flat plain ahead of us. The dogs had
dropped their scenting, and appeared to have lost their interest in
the regions about the earth's axis.

At three in the afternoon a simultaneous "Halt!" rang out from the
drivers. They had carefully examined their sledge-meters, and they
all showed the full distance -- our Pole by reckoning. The goal
was reached, the journey ended. I cannot say -- though I know it
would sound much more effective -- that the object of my life was
attained. That would be romancing rather too bare-facedly. I had
better be honest and admit straight out that I have never known any
man to be placed in such a diametrically opposite position to the
goal of his desires as I was at that moment. The regions around the
North Pole -- well, yes, the North Pole itself -- had attracted me
from childhood, and here I was at the South Pole. Can anything more
topsy-turvy be imagined?

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