Last, but not least, there was the enormous advantage that it was comparatively easy to reach in the vessel. No expedition had yet been prevented from coming in here.
I knew that this plan of wintering on the Barrier itself would be exposed to severe criticism as recklessness, foolhardiness, and so forth, for it was generally assumed that the Barrier was afloat here, as in other places. Indeed, it was thought to be so even by those who had themselves seen it. Shackleton's description of the conditions at the time of his visit did not seem very promising.
Mile after mile had broken away, and he thanked God he had not made his camp there. Although I have a very great regard for Shackleton, his work and his experience, I believe that in this case his conclusion was too hasty -- fortunately, I must add. For if, when Shackleton passed the Bay of Whales on January, 24, 1908, and saw the ice of the bay in process of breaking up and drifting out, he had waited a few hours, or at the most a couple of days, the problem of the South Pole would probably have been solved long before December, 1911. With his keen sight and sound judgment, it would not have taken him long to determine that the inner part of the bay does not consist of floating barrier, but that the Barrier there rests upon a good, solid foundation, probably in the form of small islands, skerries, or shoals, and from this point he and his able companions would have disposed of the South Polar question once for all. But circumstances
willed it otherwise, and the veil was only lifted, not torn away.
I had devoted special study to this peculiar formation in the Barrier, and had arrived at the conclusion that the inlet that exists to-day in the Ross Barrier under the name of the Bay of Whales is nothing else than the self-same bight that was observed by Sir James Clark Ross -- no doubt with great changes of outline, but still the same. For seventy years, then, this formation -- with the exception of the pieces that had broken away -- had persisted in the same place. I therefore concluded that it could be no accidental formation. What, once, in the dawn of time, arrested the mighty stream of ice at this spot and formed a lasting bay in its edge, which with few exceptions runs in an almost straight line, was not merely a passing whim of the fearful force that came crashing on, but something even stronger than that -- something that was firmer than the hard ice -- namely, the solid land. Here in this spot, then, the Barrier piled itself up and formed the bay we now call the Bay of Whales. The observations we made during our stay there confirm the correctness of this theory. I therefore had no misgivings in placing our station on this part of the Barrier.
The plan of the shore party was, as soon as the hut was built and provisions landed, to carry supplies into the field, and lay down depots as far to the south as possible. I hoped to get such a quantity of provisions brought down to lat. 80º S., that we should be able to regard this latitude as the real starting-place of the actual sledge journey to the Pole. We shall see later that this hope was more than fulfilled, and a labour many times greater than this was performed. By the time this depot work was accomplished winter would be before us, and with the knowledge we had of the conditions in the Antarctic regions, every precaution would have to be taken to meet the coldest and probably the most stormy weather that any Polar expedition had hitherto encountered. My object was, when winter had once set in, and everything in the station was in good working order, to concentrate all our forces upon the one object -- that of reaching the Pole.
I intended to try to get people with me who were specially fitted for outdoor work in the cold. Even more necessary was it to find men who were experienced dog-drivers; I saw what a decisive bearing this would have on the result. There are advantages and disadvantages in having experienced people with one on an expedition like this. The advantages are obvious. If a variety of experiences are brought together and used with common sense, of course a great deal can be achieved. The experience of one man will often come in opportunely where that
of another falls short. The experiences of several will supplement each other, and form something like a perfect whole; this is what I hoped to obtain. But there is no rose without a thorn; if it has its advantages, it also has its drawbacks. The drawback to which one is liable in this case is that someone or other may think he possesses so much experience that every opinion but his own is worthless. It is, of course, regrettable when experience takes this turn, but with patience and common sense it can be broken of it. In any case, the advantages are so great and predominant that I had determined to have experienced men to the greatest extent possible. It was my plan to devote the entire winter to working at our outfit, and to get it as near to perfection as possible. Another thing to which we should have to give some time was the killing of a sufficient number of seals to provide fresh meat both for ourselves and our dogs for the whole time. Scurvy, the worst enemy of Polar expeditions, must be kept off at all costs, and to achieve this it was my intention to use fresh meat every day. It proved easy to carry out this rule, since everyone, without exception, preferred seal meat to tinned foods. And when spring came I hoped that my companions and I would be ready, fit and well, with an outfit complete in every way.
The plan was to leave the station as early in the spring as possible. If we had set out to capture this record, we must at any cost get there first. Everything must be staked upon this. From the very moment when I had formed the plan, I had made up my mind that our course from the Bay of Whales must be set due south, and follow the same meridian, if possible, right up to the Pole. The effect of this would be that we should traverse an entirely new region, and gain other results besides beating the record.
I was greatly astonished to hear, on my return from the South, that some people had actually believed we had set our course from the Bay of Whales for Beardmore Glacier -- Shackleton's route -- and followed it to the south. Let me hasten to assure them that this idea never for a single instant crossed my mind when I made the plan. Scott had announced that he was going to take Shackleton's route, and that decided the matter. During our long stay at Framheim not one of us ever hinted at the possibility of such a course. Without discussion Scott's route was declared out of bounds.
No; due south was our way, and the country would have to be difficult indeed to stop our getting on to the plateau. Our plan was to go south, and not to leave the meridian unless we were forced to do so by insuperable difficulties. I foresaw, of course, that there would be some who would attack me and accuse me of
"shabby rivalry," etc., and they would perhaps have had some shadow of justification if we had really thought of taking Captain Scott's route. But it never occurred to us for a moment. Our starting-point lay 350 geographical miles from Scott's winter quarters in McMurdo Sound, so there could be no question of encroaching upon his sphere of action. Moreover, Professor Nansen, in his direct and convincing way, has put an end once for all to this twaddle, so that I need not dwell upon it any longer.
I worked out the plan, as here given, at my home on Bundefjord, near Christiania, in September, 1909, and as it was laid, so was it carried out to the last detail. That my estimate of the time it would take was not so very far out is proved by the final sentence of the plan: "Thus we shall be back from the Polar journey on January 25." It was on January 25, 1912, that we came into Framheim after our successful journey to the Pole.
This was not the only time our calculations proved correct; Captain Nilsen showed himself to be a veritable magician in this way. While I contented myself with reckoning dates, he did not hesitate to go into hours. He calculated that we should reach the Barrier on January 15, 1911; this is a distance of 16,000
geographical miles from Norway. We were at the Barrier on January 14, one day before the time. There was not much wrong with that estimate.
In accordance with the Storthing's resolution of February 9, 1909, the Fram was lent for the use of the expedition, and a sum of 75,000 kroner (4,132 pounds sterling) was voted for repairs and necessary alterations.
The provisions were chosen with the greatest care, and packed with every precaution. All groceries were soldered in tin boxes, and then enclosed in strong wooden cases. The packing of tinned provisions is of enormous importance to a Polar expedition; it is impossible to give too much attention to this part of the supplies. Any carelessness, any perfunctory packing on the part of the factory, will as a rule lead to scurvy. It is an interesting fact that on the four Norwegian Polar expeditions -- the three voyages of the Fram and the Gjöa's voyage -- not a single case of scurvy occurred. This is good evidence of the care with which these expeditions were provisioned.
In this matter we owe a deep debt of gratitude above all to Professor Sophus Torup, who has always been the supervising authority in the matter of provisioning, this time as well as on the former occasions.
Great praise is also due to the factories that supplied our tinned goods. By their excellent and conscientious work they deserved well of the expedition. In this case a part of the supplies was entrusted to a Stavanger factory, which, in addition to the goods supplied to order, with great generosity placed at the disposal of the expedition provisions to the value of 2,000 kroner (£110). The other half of the tinned foods required was ordered from a firm at Moss. The manager of this firm undertook at the same time to prepare the necessary pemmican for men and dogs, and executed this commission in a way that I cannot sufficiently praise. Thanks to this excellent preparation, the health both of men and dogs on the journey to the Pole was always remarkably good. The pemmican we took was essentially different from that which former expeditions had used. Previously the pemmican had contained nothing but the desired mixture of dried meat and lard; ours had, besides these, vegetables and oatmeal, an addition which greatly improves its flavour, and, as far as we could judge, makes it easier to digest.
This kind of pemmican was first produced for the use of the Norwegian Army; it was intended to take the place of the "emergency ration." The experiment was not concluded at the time the expedition left, but it may be hoped that the result has proved satisfactory. A more stimulating, nourishing, and appetizing food, it would be impossible to find.
But besides the pemmican for ourselves, that for our dogs was equally important, for they are just as liable to be attacked by scurvy as we men. The same care had therefore to be devoted to the preparation of their food. We obtained from Moss two kinds of pemmican, one made with fish and the other with meat. Both kinds contained, besides the dried fish (or meat) and lard, a certain proportion of dried milk and middlings. Both kinds were equally excellent, and the dogs were always in splendid condition. The pemmican was divided into rations of 1 pound 1.5 ounces, and could be served out to the dogs as it was. But before we should be able to use this pemmican we had a five months' voyage before us, and for this part of the expedition I had to look for a reliable supply of dried fish. This I found through the agent of the expedition at Tromsö, Mr. Fritz Zappfe. Two well-known firms also placed large quantities of the best dried fish at my disposal. With all this excellent fish and some barrels of lard we succeeded in bringing our dogs through in the best of condition.
One of the most important of our preparations was to find good dogs. As I have said, I had to act with decision and promptitude if I was to succeed in getting
everything in order. The day after my decision was made, therefore, I was on my way to Copenhagen, where the Inspectors for Greenland, Messrs. Daugaard-Jensen and Bentzen, were to be found at that moment. The director of the Royal Greenland Trading Company, Mr. Rydberg, showed, as before, the most friendly interest in my undertaking, and gave the inspectors a free hand. I then negotiated with these gentlemen, and they undertook to provide 100 of the finest Greenland dogs and to deliver them in Norway in July, 1910. The dog question was thus as good as solved, since the choice was placed in the most expert hands. I was personally acquainted with Inspector Daugaard-Jensen from former dealings with him, and knew that whatever he undertook would be performed with the greatest conscientiousness. The administration of the Royal Greenland Trading Company gave permission for the dogs to be conveyed free of charge on board the Hans Egede and delivered at Christiansand.
Before I proceed to our further equipment, I must say a few more words about the dogs. The greatest difference between Scott's and my equipment lay undoubtedly in our choice of draught animals. We had heard that Scott, relying on his own experience, and that of Shackleton, had come to the conclusion that Manchurian ponies were superior to dogs on the Barrier. Among those who were acquainted with the Eskimo dog, I do not suppose I was the only one who was startled on first hearing this. Afterwards, as I read the different narratives and was able to form an accurate opinion of the conditions of surface and going, my astonishment became even greater. Although I had never seen this part of the Antarctic regions, I was not long in forming an opinion diametrically opposed to that of Shackleton and Scott, for the conditions both of going and surface were precisely what one would desire for sledging with Eskimo dogs, to judge from the descriptions of these explorers. If Peary could make a record trip on the Arctic ice with dogs, one ought, surely, with equally good tackle, to be able to beat Peary's record on the splendidly even surface of the Barrier. There must be some misunderstanding or other at the bottom of the Englishmen's estimate of the Eskimo dog's utility in the Polar regions. Can it be that the dog has not understood his master? Or is it the master who has not understood his dog? The right footing must be established from the outset; the dog must understand that he has to obey in everything, and the master must know how to make himself respected. If obedience is once established, I am convinced that the dog will be superior to all other draught animals over these long distances.
Another very important reason for using the dog is that this small creature can much more easily cross the numerous slight snow-bridges that are not to be
avoided on the Barrier and on the glaciers. If a dog falls into a crevasse there is no great harm done; a tug at his harness and he is out again; but it is another matter with a pony. This comparatively large and heavy animal of course falls through far more easily, and if this happens, it is a long and stiff job to get the beast hauled up again -- unless, indeed, the traces have broken and the pony lies at the bottom of a crevasse 1,000 feet deep.
And then there is the obvious advantage that dog can be fed on dog. One can reduce one's pack little by little, slaughtering the feebler ones and feeding the chosen with them. In this way they get fresh meat. Our dogs lived on dog's flesh and pemmican the whole way, and this enabled them to do splendid work.
And if we ourselves wanted a piece of fresh meat we could cut off a delicate little fillet; it tasted to us as good as the best beef. The dogs do not object at all; as long as they get their share they do not mind what part of their comrade's carcass it comes from. All that was left after one of these canine meals was the teeth of the victim -- and if it had been a really hard day, these also disappeared.
If we take a step farther, from the Barrier to the plateau, it would seem that every doubt of the dog's superiority must disappear. Not only can one get the dogs up over the huge glaciers that lead to the plateau, but one can make full use of them the whole way. Ponies, on the other hand, have to be left at the foot of the glacier, while the men themselves have the doubtful pleasure of acting as ponies.
As I understand Shackleton's account, there can be no question of hauling the ponies over the steep and crevassed glaciers. It must be rather hard to have to abandon one's motive power voluntarily when only a quarter of the distance has been covered. I for my part prefer to use it all the way.
From the very beginning I saw that the first part of our expedition, from Norway to the Barrier, would be the most dangerous section. If we could only reach the Barrier with our dogs safe and well, the future would be bright enough.
Fortunately all my comrades took the same view of the matter, and with their cooperation we succeeded not only in bringing the dogs safely to our field of operations, but in landing them in far better condition than when we received them. Their number was also considerably increased on the way, which seems to be another proof of a flourishing state of things. To protect them against damp and heat we laid a loose deck of planed boards about 3 inches above the fixed deck, an arrangement by which all the rain and spray ran underneath the dogs. In this way we kept them out of the water, which must always be running from side
to side on the deck of a deep-laden vessel on her way to the Antarctic Ocean.
Going through the tropics this loose deck did double service. It always afforded a somewhat cool surface, as there was a fresh current of air between the two decks. The main deck, which was black with tar, would have been unbearably hot for the animals; the false deck was high, and kept fairly white during the whole voyage. We carried awnings in addition, chiefly on account of the dogs.
These awnings could be stretched over the whole vessel and give the dogs constant protection from the burning sun.
I still cannot help smiling when I think of the compassionate voices that were raised here and there -- and even made their way into print -- about the "cruelty to animals" on board the Fram. Presumably these cries came from tender-hearted individuals who themselves kept watch-dogs tied up.
Besides our four-footed companions, we took with us a two-footed one, not so much on account of the serious work in the Polar regions as for pleasant entertainment on the way. This was our canary "Fridtjof." It was one of the many presents made to the expedition, and not the least welcome of them. It began to sing as soon as it came on board, and has now kept it going on two circumnavigations through the most inhospitable waters of the earth. It probably holds the record as a Polar traveller among its kind.
Later on we had a considerable collection of various families: pigs, fowls, sheep, cats, and -- rats. Yes, unfortunately, we knew what it was to have rats on board, the most repulsive of all creatures, and the worst vermin I know of. But we have declared war against them, and off they shall go before the Fram starts on her next voyage. We got them in Buenos Aires, and the best thing will be to bury them in their native land.
On account of the rather straitened circumstances the expedition had to contend with, I had to look twice at every shilling before I spent it. Articles of clothing are an important factor in a Polar expedition, and I consider it necessary that the expedition should provide each of its members with the actual "Polar clothing."
If one left this part of the equipment to each individual, I am afraid things would look badly before the journey was done. I must admit that there was some temptation to do this. It would have been very much cheaper if I had simply given each man a list of what clothes he was required to provide for himself. But by so doing I should have missed the opportunity of personally supervising the quality of the clothing to the extent I desired.
