The South Pole, Volumes 1 and 2 by Roald Amundsen

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The ice of the bay was furrowed by numerous leads, and while the
hunters were busy cutting up the seals, I tried to get a sounding,
but the thirty fathoms of Alpine rope I had were not enough; no
bottom was reached. After having something to eat we went down again,
in order if possible to find out the depth. This time we were better
supplied with sounding tackle two reels of thread, a marlinspike,
and our geological hammer.

First the marlinspike was sent down with the thread as a line. An
inquisitive lout of a seal did all it could to bite through the thread,
but whether this was too strong or its teeth too poor, we managed
after a lot of trouble to coax the marlinspike up again, and the
interfering rascal, who had to come up to the surface now and then
to take breath, got the spike of a ski-pole in his thick hide. This
unexpected treatment was evidently not at all to his liking, and
after acknowledging it by a roar of disgust, he vanished into the
depths. Now we got on better. The marlinspike sank and sank until
it had drawn with it 130 fathoms of thread. A very small piece of
seaweed clung to the thread as we hauled it in again; on the spike
there was nothing to be seen. As its weight was rather light for so
great a depth -- a possible setting of current might have carried it
a little to one side -- we decided to try once more with the hammer,
which was considerably heavier, in order to check the result. The
hammer, on the other hand, was so heavy, that with the delicate thread
as a line the probability of successfully carrying out the experiment
seemed small, but we had to risk it. The improvised sinker was well
smeared with blubber, and this time it sank so rapidly to the bottom
as to leave no doubt of the correctness of the sounding -- 130 fathoms
again. By using extreme care we succeeded in getting the hammer up
again in safety, but no specimen of the bottom was clinging to it.

On the way back to camp we dragged with us the carcass of the young
seal. It was past three when we got into our sleeping-bags that night,
and, in consequence, we slept a good deal later than usual the next
morning. The forenoon was spent by Johansen and Stubberud in hauling
up another seal from the bay and packing as much flesh on the sledges
as possible. As fresh meat is a commodity that takes up a great deal
of space in proportion to its weight, the quantity we were able to
take with us was not large. The chief advantage we had gained was
that a considerable supply could be stored on the spot, and it might
be useful to fall back upon in case of delay or other mishaps.

I took the observation for longitude and latitude, found the height by
hypsometer, and took some photographs. After laying down the depot and
erecting beacons, we broke camp at 3 p.m. South of the head of the bay
there were a number of elevations and pressure masses, exactly like the
formations to be found about Framheim. To the east a prominent ridge
appeared, and with the glass it could be seen to extend inland in a
south-easterly direction. According to our observations this must be
the same that Captain Scott has marked with land-shading on his chart.

We made a wide detour outside the worst pressure-ridges, and then set
our course east-north-east towards the ridge just mentioned. It was a
pretty steep rise, which was not at all a good thing for the dogs. They
had overeaten themselves shockingly, and most of the seal's flesh
came up again. So that their feast should not be altogether wasted,
we stopped as soon as we had come far enough up the ridge to be able
to regard the surface as comparatively safe; for in the depression
round the bay it was somewhat doubtful.

On the following morning -- Sunday, November 26 -- there was a gale
from the north-east with sky and Barrier lost in driving snow. That
put an end to our plans of a long Sunday march. In the midst of
our disappointment I had a sudden bright idea. It was Queen Maud's
birthday! If we could not go on, we could at least celebrate the day
in a modest fashion. In one of the provision cases there was still a
solitary Stavanger tin, containing salt beef and peas. It was opened
at once, and its contents provided a banquet that tasted better to us
than the most carefully chosen menu had ever done. In this connection
I cannot help thinking of the joy it would bring to many a household
in this world if its master were possessed of an appetite like
ours. The wife would then have no need to dread the consequences,
however serious the shortcomings of the cuisine might be. But to
return to the feast. Her Majesty's health was drunk in a very small,
but, at the same time, very good tot of aquavit, served in enamelled
iron mugs. Carrying alcohol was, of course, against regulations,
strictly speaking; but, as everyone knows, prohibition is not an
easy thing to put into practice. Even in Antarctica this proved to be
the case. Lindstrom had a habit of sending a little surprise packet
with each sledging party that went out, and on our departure he had
handed us one of these, with the injunction that the packet was only
to be opened on some festive occasion; we chose as such Her Majesty's
birthday. On examination the packet was found to contain a little flask
of spirits, in which we at once agreed to drink the Queen's health.

The 27th brought the same nasty weather, and the 28th was not much
better, though not bad enough to stop us. After a deal of hard work
in hauling our buried belongings out of the snow, we got away and
continued our course to the north-eastward. It was not exactly an
agreeable morning: a brisk wind with driving snow right in one's
face. After trudging against this for a couple of hours I heard
Stubberud call "Halt!" -- half his team were hanging by the traces in a
crevasse. I had gone across without noticing anything; no doubt owing
to the snow in my face. One would think the dogs would be suspicious
of a place like this; but they are not -- they plunge on till the
snow-bridge breaks under them. Luckily the harness held, so that it
was the affair of a moment to pull the poor beasts up again. Even a
dog might well be expected to be a trifle shaken after hanging head
downwards over such a fearful chasm; but apparently they took it very
calmly, and were quite prepared to do the same thing over again.

For my own part I looked out more carefully after this, and although
there were a good many ugly fissures on the remaining part of the
ascent, we crossed them all without further incident.

Unpleasant as these crevasses are, they do not involve any direct
danger, so long as the weather is clear and the light favourable. One
can then judge by the appearance of the surface whether there is danger
ahead; and if crevasses are seen in time, there is always a suitable
crossing to be found. The case is somewhat different in fog, drift,
or when the light is such that the small inequalities marking the
course of the crevasse do not show up. This last is often the case in
cloudy weather, when even a fairly prominent rise will not be noticed
on the absolutely white surface until one falls over it. In such
conditions it is safest to feel one's way forward with the ski-pole;
though this mode of proceeding is more troublesome than effective.

In the course of the 28th the ascent came to an end, and with it
the crevasses. The wind fell quite light, and the blinding drift was
succeeded by clear sunshine. We had now come sufficiently high up to
have a view of the sea far to the north-west. During the high wind
a quantity of ice had been driven southward, so that for a great
distance there was no open water to be seen, but a number of huge
icebergs. From the distance of the sea horizon we guessed our height
to be about 1,000 feet, and in the evening the hypsometer showed the
guess to be very nearly right.

November 29. -- Weather and going all that could be wished on breaking
camp this morning; before us we had a level plateau, which appeared
to be quite free from unpleasant obstructions. When we halted for the
noon observation the sledge-meter showed ten geographical miles, and
before evening we had brought the day's distance up to twenty. The
latitude was then 77deg. 32'. The distance to the Barrier edge on the
north was, at a guess, about twenty geographical miles. We were now
a good way along the peninsula, the northern point of which Captain
Scott named Cape Colbeck, and at the same time a good way to the
east of the meridian in which he put land-shading on his chart. Our
height above the sea, which was now about 1,000 feet, was evidence
enough that we had firm land under us, but it was still sheathed in
ice. In that respect the landscape offered no change from what we had
learnt to know by the name of "Barrier." It cannot be denied that at
this juncture I began to entertain a certain doubt of the existence
of bare land in this quarter.

This doubt was not diminished when we had done another good day's
march to the eastward on November 30. According to our observations we
were then just below the point where the Alexandra Mountains should
begin, but there was no sign of mountain ranges; the surface was a
little rougher, perhaps. However, it was still too soon to abandon
the hope. It would be unreasonable to expect any great degree of
accuracy of the chart we had to go by; its scale was far too large for
that. It was, moreover, more than probable that our own determination
of longitude was open to doubt.

Assuming the approximate accuracy of the chart, by holding on to
the north-east we ought soon to come down to the seaboard, and with
this object in view we continued our march. On December 1, in the
middle of the day, we saw that everything agreed. From the top of an
eminence the sea was visible due north, and on the east two domed
summits were outlined, apparently high enough to be worthy of the
name of mountains. They were covered with snow, but on the north
side of them there was an abrupt precipice, in which many black
patches showed up sharply against the white background. It was still
too soon to form an idea as to whether they were bare rock or not;
they might possibly be fissures in the mass of ice. The appearance
of the summits agreed exactly with Captain Scott's description of
what he saw from the deck of the Discovery in 1902. He assumed that
the black patches were rocks emerging from the snow-slopes. As will
be seen later, our respected precursor was right.

In order to examine the nature of the seaboard, we began by steering
down towards it; but in the meantime the weather underwent an
unfavourable change. The sky clouded over and the light became
as vile as it could be. The point we were anxious to clear up was
whether there was any Barrier wall here, or whether the land and
sea-ice gradually passed into each other in an easy slope. As the
light was, there might well have been a drop of 100 feet without our
seeing anything of it. Securely roped together we made our way down,
until our progress was stopped by a huge pressure-ridge, which,
as far as could be made out, formed the boundary between land and
sea-ice. It was, however, impossible in the circumstances to get
any clear view of the surroundings, and after trudging back to the
sledges, which had been left up on the slope, we turned to the east
to make a closer examination of the summits already mentioned. I went
in front, as usual, in the cheerful belief that we had a fairly level
stretch before us, but I was far out in my calculation. My ski began
to slip along at a terrific speed, and it was advisable to put on the
brake. This was easily done as far as I was concerned, but with the
dogs it was a different matter. Nothing could stop them when they
felt that the sledge was running by its own weight; they went in a
wild gallop down the slope, the end of which could not at present be
seen. I suppose it will sound like a tall story, but it is a fact,
nevertheless, that to our eyes the surface appeared to be horizontal
all the time. Snow, horizon and sky all ran together in a white chaos,
in which all lines of demarcation were obliterated.

Fortunately nothing came of our expectation that the scamper would
have a frightful ending in some insidious abyss. It was stopped quite
naturally by an opposing slope, which appeared to be as steep as the
one we had just slid down. If the pace had been rather too rapid
before, there was now no ground of complaint on that score. Step
by step we crawled up to the top of the ridge; but the ground was
carefully surveyed before we proceeded farther.

In the course of the afternoon we groped our way forward over a
whole series of ridges and intervening depressions. Although nothing
could be seen, it was obvious enough that our surroundings were now
of an entirely different character from anything we had previously
been accustomed to. The two mountain summits had disappeared in the
fleecy mist, but the increasing unevenness of the ground showed that
we were approaching them. Meanwhile I considered it inadvisable to
come to close quarters with them so long as we were unable to use
our eyes, and, remembering what happens when the blind leads the
blind, we camped. For the first time during the trip I had a touch of
snow-blindness that afternoon. This troublesome and rightly dreaded
complaint was a thing that we had hitherto succeeded in keeping off
by a judicious use of our excellent snow-goggles. Among my duties
as forerunner was that of maintaining the direction, and this, at
times, involved a very severe strain on the eyes. In thick weather
it is only too easy to yield to the temptation of throwing off the
protective goggles, with the idea that one can see better without
them. Although I knew perfectly well what the consequence would be,
I had that afternoon broken the commandment of prudence. The trifling
smart I felt in my eyes was cured by keeping the goggles on for
a couple of hours after we were in the tent. Like all other ills,
snow-blindness may easily be dispelled by taking it in time.

Next morning the sun's disc could just be made out through a veil
of thin stratus clouds, and then the light was more or less normal
again. As soon as we could see what our surroundings were, it was clear
enough that we had done right in stopping the game of blind man's buff
we had been playing on the previous day. It might otherwise have had
an unpleasant ending. Right across our line of route and about 500
yards from our camp the surface was so broken up that it was more
like a sieve than anything else. In the background the masses of
snow were piled in huge drifts down a steep slope on the north-west
side of the two mountains. It was impossible to take the sledges any
farther on the way we had hitherto been following, but in the course
of the day we worked round by a long detour to the foot of the most
westerly of the mountains. We were then about 1,000 feet above the
sea; to the north of us we had the abrupt descent already mentioned,
to the south it was quite flat. Our view to the east was shut in by
the two mountains, and our first idea was to ascend to the tops of
them, but the powers of the weather again opposed us with their full
force. A stiff south-east wind set in and increased in the course of
half an hour to a regular blizzard. Little as it suited our wishes,
there was nothing to be done but to creep back into the tent. For
a whole month now we had seen scarcely anything but fair weather,
and the advance of summer had given us hopes that it would hold;
but just when it suited us least of all came a dismal change.

The light Antarctic summer night ran its course, while the gusts
of wind tugged and tore at the thin sides of our tent; no snowfall
accompanied the south-easterly wind, but the loose snow of the surface
was whirled up into a drift that stood like an impenetrable wall round
the tent. After midnight it moderated a little, and by four o'clock
there was comparatively fair weather. We were on our feet at once, put
together camera, glasses, aneroids, axe, Alpine rope, with some lumps
of pemmican to eat on the way, and then went off for a morning walk
with the nearer of the two hills as our goal. All three of us went,
leaving the dogs in charge of the camp. They were not so fresh now that
they would not gladly accept all the rest that was offered them. We
had no need to fear any invasion of strangers; the land we had come
to appeared to be absolutely devoid of living creatures of any kind.

The hill was farther off and higher than it appeared at first; the
aneroid showed a rise of 700 feet when we reached the top. As our
camp lay at a height of 1,000 feet, this gave us 1,700 feet as the
height of this hill above the sea. The side we went up was covered
by neve, which, to judge from the depth of the cracks, must have been
immense. As we approached the summit and our view over the surrounding
ground became wider, the belief that we should see so much as a crag
of this King Edward Land grew weaker and weaker. There was nothing
but white on every side, not a single consolatory little black patch,
however carefully we looked. And to think that we had been dreaming
of great mountain masses in the style of McMurdo Sound, with sunny
slopes, penguins by the thousand, seals and all the rest! All these
visions were slowly but surely sunk in an endless sea of snow, and
when at last we stood on the highest point, we certainly thought
there could be no chance of a revival of our hopes.

But the unexpected happened after all. On the precipitous northern
side of the adjacent hill our eyes fell upon bare rock -- the
first glimpse we had had of positive land during the year we had
been in Antarctica. Our next thought was of how to get to it and
take specimens, and with this object we at once began to scale the
neighbouring hill, which was a trifle higher than the one we had
first ascended. The precipice was, however, perpendicular, with a
huge snow cornice over-hanging it. Lowering a man on the rope would be
rather too hazardous a proceeding; besides which, a length of thirty
yards would not go very far. If we were to get at the rock, it would
have to be from below. In the meantime we availed ourselves of the
opportunity offered by the clear weather to make a closer examination
of our surroundings. From the isolated summit, 1,700 feet high, on
which we stood, the view was fairly extensive. Down to the sea on
the north the distance was about five geographical miles. The surface
descended in terraces towards the edge of the water, where there was
quite a low Barrier wall. As might be expected, this stretch of the
ice-field was broken by innumerable crevasses, rendering any passage
across it impossible.

On the east extended a well-marked mountain-ridge, about twenty
geographical miles in length, and somewhat lower than the summit on
which we stood. This was the Alexandra Mountains. It could not be
called an imposing range, and it was snow-clad from one end to the
other. Only on the most easterly spur was the rock just visible.

On the south and south-west nothing was to be seen but the usual
undulating Barrier surface. Biscoe Bay, as Captain Scott has named
it, was for the moment a gathering-place for numerous icebergs; one
or two of these seemed to be aground. The inmost corner of the bay
was covered with sea-ice. On its eastern side the Barrier edge could
be seen to continue northward, as marked in Captain Scott's chart;
but no indication of bare land was visible in that quarter.

Having built a snow beacon, 6 feet high, on the summit, we put on our
ski again and went down the eastern slope of the hill at a whizzing
pace. On this side there was an approach to the level on the north
of the precipice, and we availed ourselves of it. Seen from below
the mountain crest looked quite grand, with a perpendicular drop
of about 1,000 feet. The cliff was covered with ice up to a height
of about 100 feet, and this circumstance threatened to be a serious
obstacle to our obtaining specimens of the rocks. But in one place
a nunatak about 250 feet high stood out in front of the precipice,
and the ascent of this offered no great difficulty.

A wall of rock of very ordinary appearance is not usually reckoned
among things capable of attracting the attention of the human eye
to any marked extent; nevertheless, we three stood and gazed at it,
as though we had something of extraordinary beauty and interest before
us. The explanation is very simple, if we remember the old saying about
the charm of variety. A sailor, who for months has seen nothing but
sea and sky, will lose himself in contemplation of a little islet,
be it never so barren and desolate. To us, who for nearly a year
had been staring our eyes out in a dazzling white infinity of snow
and ice, it was indeed an experience to see once more a bit of the
earth's crust. That this fragment was as poor and bare as it could
be was not taken into consideration at the moment.

The mere sight of the naked rock was, however, only an anticipatory
pleasure. A more substantial one was the feeling of again being able
to move on ground that afforded a sure and trustworthy foothold. It
is possible that we behaved rather like children on first reaching
bare land. One of us, in any case, found immense enjoyment in rolling
one big block after another down the steep slopes of the nunatak. At
any rate, the sport had the interest of novelty.

This little peak was built up of very heterogenous materials. As the
practical result of our visit, we brought away a fairly abundant
collection of specimens of all the rocks to be found there. Not
being a specialist, I cannot undertake any classification of the
specimens. It will be the task of geologists to deal with them, and
to obtain if possible some information as to the structure of the
country. I will only mention that some of the stones were so heavy
that they must certainly have contained metallic ore of one kind or
another. On returning to camp that evening, we tried them with the
compass-needle, and it showed very marked attraction in the case of
one or two of the specimens. These must, therefore, contain iron-ore.

This spur, which had been severely handled by ice-pressure and the
ravages of time, offered a poor chance of finding what we coveted most
-- namely, fossils -- and the most diligent search proved unsuccessful
in this respect. From finds that have been made in other parts of
Antarctica it is known that in former geological periods -- the
Jurassic epoch -- even this desolate continent possessed a rich and
luxurious vegetation. The leader of the Swedish expedition to Graham
Land, Dr. Nordenskjold, and his companion, Gunnar Andersson, were
the first to make this exceedingly interesting and important discovery.

While it did not fall to our lot to furnish any proof of the existence
of an earlier flora in King Edward Land, we found living plants of
the most primitive form. Even on that tiny islet in the ocean of
snow the rock was in many places covered with thick moss. How did
that moss come there? Its occurrence might, perhaps, be quoted in
support of the hypothesis of the genesis of organic life from, dead
matter. This disputed question must here be left open, but it may be
mentioned in the same connection that we found the remains of birds'
nests in many places among the rocks. Possibly the occupants of these
nests may have been instrumental in the conveyance of the moss.

Otherwise, the signs of bird life were very few. One or two solitary
snowy petrels circled round the summit while we were there; that
was all.

It was highly important to obtain some successful photographs from
this spot, and I was setting about the necessary preparations, when
one of my companions made a remark about the changed appearance of the
sky. Busy with other things, I had entirely neglected to keep an eye
on the weather, an omission for which, as will be seen, we might have
had to pay dearly. Fortunately, another had been more watchful than
I, and the warning came in time. A glance was enough to convince me
of the imminent approach of a snow-storm; the fiery red sky and the
heavy ring round the sun spoke a language that was only too clear. We
had a good hour's march to the tent, and the possibility of being
surprised by the storm before we arrived was practically equivalent
to never arriving at all.

We very soon put our things together, and came down the nunatak
even more quickly. On the steep slopes leading up to the plateau on
which the tent stood the pace was a good deal slower, though we made
every possible effort to hurry. There was no need to trouble about
the course; we had only to follow the trail of our own ski -- so
long as it was visible. But the drift was beginning to blot it out,
and if it once did that, any attempt at finding the tent would be
hopeless. For a long and anxious quarter of an hour it looked as if
we should be too late, until at last the tent came in sight, and we
were saved. We had escaped the blizzard so far; a few minutes later
it burst in all its fury, and the whirling snow was so thick that it
would have been impossible to see the tent at a distance of ten paces,
but by then we were all safe and sound inside. Ravenously hungry
after the twelve hours that had passed since our last proper meal, we
cooked an extra large portion of pemmican and the same of chocolate,
and with this sumptuous repast we celebrated the event of the day --
the discovery of land. From what we had seen in the course of the day
it might be regarded as certain that we should be disappointed in our
hopes of finding any great and interesting field for our labours in
this quarter; King Edward Land was still far too well hidden under
eternal snow and ice to give us that. But even the establishment of
this, to us, somewhat unwelcome fact marked an increase of positive
human knowledge of the territory that bears the name of King Edward
VII.; and with the geological specimens that we had collected, we were
in possession of a tangible proof of the actual existence of solid
ground in a region which otherwise bore the greatest resemblance to
what we called "Barrier" elsewhere, or in any case to the Barrier as
it appears in the neighbourhood of our winter-quarters at Framheim.