First Crossing of Greenland E-Book

Fridtjof Nansen

• Herausgeber: Gibson Square
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2001

Beschreibung

After the successful publication of his biography (1998) and his brilliant polar journal Farthest North (2000), Fridtjof Nansen has in the past years recaptured his reputation as 'a modern Viking' (Daily Mail) which he enjoyed a century ago. This book is an abridgement of the two volumes of journals he edited of his daring crossing of the icy, treacherous snow plains of Greenland. At the time, before his famous arctic journey, no one had ever succeeded in penetrating the depths of Greenland. His ideas for crossing, upwards with dogs which would be eaten on the way, and downwards by skiing, were received with scathing contempt as contemporary thinking favoured large expeditions with numerous servants for survival.

Leseprobe

Contents

Introduction

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THE

FIRST CROSSING

OF

GREENLAND

 

FRIDTJOF NANSEN

Gibson Square

 ‘Nansen was the last of the Nordic gods… Tall, blond, and ridiculously handsome… The First Crossing Of Greenland is a… thrilling account of his earliest adventure… It was a hideous journey… Hair froze fast to headgear, beards solidified so that the lips could not be opened to speak… Polar exploration tends to attract more testosterone than talent… One man towers over the other ice-encrusted sledgers: Fridtjof Nansen, colossus of the glaciers… Of all the frozen beards… only Nansen communicated a sense of the true subjugation of the ego that endeavour can bring. Failure, he acknowledged, would mean “only disappointed human hopes, nothing more”.’

Sara Wheeler, Guardian

‘Seminal… demythologised the polar environment and revolutionised modern polar travel with the introduction of skis.’

Roland Huntford, The Times

‘Nansen defied that conventional wisdom, which dictated explorers proceed from the known to the unknown to maintain a line of retreat, by sailing first to the largely uncharted eastern coast of Greenland.’

Times Higher Education

‘The visionary Norse explorer.’

Jon Krakauer

First published in Great Britain by Longmans & Co 1890

(1892, 1893, 1895, 1896, 1897, 1898)

This edition published for the first time by Gibson Square

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All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior consent of the publisher. A catalogue record for this book is available from the Library of Congress and the British Library. .

CONTENTS

Introduction 5

1. The Equipment 15

2. Skis and Skiing 30

Map of the Greenland expedition35

3. Voyage to Iceland 36

4. Cruising the Ice 41

5. Point of No Return 48

6. Danger 52

7. Adrift 60

8. Land in Sight, at Last 69

9. Cape Bille 86

10 An Icy Greenland Idyll 93

11. Rapid Progress 104

12. Glaciers and “Nunataks” 114

13. The Conquest of the Inland Ice 122

14. 7930 Feet above Sea Level 134

15. Snowstorms of the Interior 145

16. Shipwreck on the Icy Plains 153

17. Water, but no Land 160

18. Rocks and Land 168

19. Splitting Up 176

20. A Change in Fortune 180

21. Ny Herrnhut 186

22. Civilisation 192

Up until 1888, the year of Nansen’s Greenland expedition, what the arctic interior looked like was unknown: its landmasses were still pristine, untouched by man or global warming. Despite several nineteenth-century attempts to cross Greenland, not much could be achieved without the proper equipment or rescue missions. Not true, however, thought a twenty-two-year-old student when reading about the latest attempt to conquer the polar regions in 1883.

Derided by experts, Nansen organised an expedition so modest that it did not even have its own vessel to reach Greenland, was financed by one private backer and had only five members. He and his expedition were looking at certain death, according to those who thought they knew. Not by nature a modest person, Nansen pressed on regardless. His expedition set off to Greenland via a steam passage to London and then Scotland, and then two more steamers before being dropped off somewhere among the icebergs floating in front of eastern Greenland.

Astonishingly, Nansen did become the first person ever to set eyes on the grim and solitary splendour of Greenland’s arctic landscape, and live to tell about it. What we know, but few realised at the time, is that his flash of genius was essentially right. He had been meticulous in his preparations and was correct in seeing safety in speed rather than equipment. Even so, he knew as little about Greenland conditions as anyone else. Any wrong decision could prove fatal for him and his companions. His many eloquent records of Greenland's strange beauty form a sharp contrast with the adrenaline rush underlying his laconic description of the voyage's hair-raising moments.

Written by Nansen himself, this book is based on his recollections and unique polar diaries, which are often quoted in the text. When Nansen returned, his success changed the nature of polar exploration forever and his book went on to become an instant bestseller and was immediately translated into English and began a whole new genre of books. The road lay open at last for the greatest conquests of all—the North and South Pole.

Introduction

In the summer of 1882 I was on board the Viking, a Norwegian sealer, which was caught in the ice off that part of the east coast of Greenland which is still unexplored, or, more precisely, somewhere in the neighbourhood of lat. 66° 50’ N. For more than three weeks we were absolutely fixed, and every day, to the terror of the crew, we drifted nearer to the rocky coast. Behind the fields of floating ice lay peaks and glaciers glittering in the day-light, and at evening and through the night, when the sun sank lowest and set the heavens in a blaze behind them, the wild beauty of the scene was raised to its highest. Many times a day from the maintop were my glasses turned westwards, and it is not to be wondered at that a young man’s fancy was drawn irresistibly to the charms and mysteries of this unknown world. Unceasingly did I ponder over plans for reaching this coast, which so many had sought in vain, and I came to the conclusion that it must be possible to reach it, if not by forcing a ship through the ice, which was the method tried hitherto, then by crossing the floes on foot and dragging one’s boat with one. One day, indeed, I incontinently proposed to make the attempt and walk over the ice to shore alone, but this scheme came to nothing because the captain conceived that he could not in the circumstances allow any one to leave the ship for a length of time.

On my return I was asked to write an article in the Danish Geografisk Tidskrift, and in this I expressed it as my opinion that it would be possible to reach the east coast of Greenland without any very great difficulty if the expedition forced their way as far as practicable into the ice on board a Norwegian sealer, and then left the ship and passed over the floes to shore. I will not say that I had not at this time some notion more or less visionary of penetrating from the coast into the interior, but it was not till a later occasion that the idea took a definite form.

One autumn evening in the following year – I remember it still as if it were only yesterday – I was sitting and listening indifferently as the day’s paper was being read. Suddenly my attention was roused by a telegram which told us that the explorer Nordenskiöld had come back safe from his expedition to the interior of Greenland, that he had found no oasis, but only endless snowfields, on which his Lapps were said to have covered, on their ski,1 an extraordinary long distance in an astonishingly short time. The idea flashed upon me at once of an expedition crossing Greenland on ski from coast to coast.

My idea, put briefly, was that if a party of good skiers were equipped in a practical and sensible way they must get across Greenland, if they began from the east side – this latter point being of extreme importance. For if they were to start, as all other expeditions have done, from the west side, they were practically certain never to get across. They would have all the flesh-pots of Egypt behind them, and in front the unexplored desert of ice and the east coast, which is little better. And furthermore, if they did get across, they would have the same journey back again in order to reach home. So it struck me that the only sure road to success was to force a passage through the floe-belt, land on the desolate and ice-bound east coast, and thence cross over to the inhabited west coast. In this way one would burn all one’s ships behind one, there would be no need to urge one’s men on, as the east coast would attract no one back, while in front would lie the west coast with all the allurements and amenities of civilisation. There was no choice of routes, “forward” being the only word. The order would be: “Death or the west coast of Greenland.”

Not till the autumn of 1887 did I resolve to give my serious attention to the scheme. My original idea had been to carry out the expedition with private means, but, as I was strongly urged on more than one side to apply to the Norwegian University for the necessary funds, in order to give the expedition a more public and national character, I sent to the authorities an application for a grant of 5000 kroner. My application received the warmest support from the University Council, and was passed on to the Government for their consideration, and in order that the proposal might be laid by them before the Storthing (National Assembly). The Government, however, answered that they could not see their way to give the scheme their support, and one of the newspapers even went so far as to maintain that there could be no conceivable reason why the Norwegian people should pay so large a sum as 5000 kr. in order to give a private individual a holiday trip to Greenland. Most people who heard of the scheme considered it simple madness, asked what was to be got in the interior of Greenland, and were convinced that I was either not quite right in the head or was simply tired of life. Luckily it was not necessary for me to procure help from Government, Storthing, or any one else.

At this time I received an offer from a gentleman in Copenhagen to provide the sum for which I had applied to Government. This was Augustin Gamél, who had already contributed to the cause of Arctic research by the equipment of the “Dijmphna” expedition. This offer, coming as it did from a foreigner, and one quite unacquainted with me personally, and in aid of an expedition which was generally considered to be the scheme of a madman, seemed to me so truly generous that I could not for a moment hesitate to accept it.

I first published my plan in January 1888 in the Norwegian magazine Naturen, in an article entitled “Greenland’s Inland Ice.” Having given some account of the earlier attempts to penetrate to the interior of Greenland, I continued:

With three or four of the best and strongest skiers I can lay my hands on, I mean to leave Iceland in the beginning of June on board a Norwegian sealer, make for the east coast of Greenland, and try in about lat. 66° N. to get as near to the shore as possible. If our vessel is not able to reach the shore – though the sealers, who have often been close in under this unexplored coast, do not consider such a thing improbable – the expedition will leave the ship at the farthest point that can be reached, and will pass over the ice to land. In the summer of 1884, for instance, there was extremely little ice, and the seal were taken almost close under the shore. For the purpose of crossing the open water which will probably be found near the coast, a light boat will be dragged on runners over the ice.

That such a crossing of the ice is possible, I feel I can assert with confidence from my previous experience. When I was in these regions in 1882 on board the Viking, and we were caught in the ice, and drifted for twenty-four days along the very coast where I now intend to land, I had numerous opportunities while out shooting and for other purposes of becoming familiar with the nature of the ice and conditions of snow, and besides, we were often obliged by sudden ‘nips,’ or jamming of the ice, to drag our boats over the floes for considerable distances. I therefore think there is every probability of our being able to reach land in this way. After having examined the coast as far as the time at our disposal will allow, we shall begin the crossing of the Inland ice at the first opportunity. If we reach land to the north of Cape Dan, we shall begin the ascent from the end of one of the fjords close by; if we land farther south, we shall push up to the end of Sermilikfjord before we take to the ice. Once upon the ice, we shall set our course for Christianshaab, on Disco Bay, and try to reach our destination as soon as possible. The distance from the point on the east coast where I intend to land in Disco Bay is about 670 kilometres or 420 miles. If we calculate that we shall be able to cover on a daily average from fifteen to twenty miles, which is exceedingly little for a skier, the crossing will not take more than a month, and if we carry with us provisions for double that time there seems to be every probability of our success. The provisions will have to be hauled on sledges of one kind or another, and besides skis we shall also take ‘truger,’ the Norwegian counterpart of the Canadian snowshoe; which may serve our purpose better when the snow is wet and soft. We shall also, of course, take the instruments necessary for observations.

It is no surprise that several more or less energetic protests against a plan of this kind appeared in the newspapers, but they were one and all distinguished by an astonishing ignorance of the various conditions of, and the possibility of passage over, extensive tracts of ice and snow.

In this connection I cannot deny myself the pleasure of reproducing some portions of a lecture delivered in Copenhagen by a young Danish traveller in Greenland, and printed in the Danish magazine Ny jord for February 1888. “Other plans,” the lecturer says, “have never passed beyond the stage of paper, like the proposals to cross the Inland ice in balloons, which were brought forward at the end of the last century. And among these paper-schemes we must include the proposal which has just emanated from the Norwegian zoologist, Fridtjof Nansen, of the Bergen Museum.” “There is much that is attractive in the fundamental idea of Nansen’s scheme, in his proposal to start from the east coast, and cross to the colonies on the other side instead of taking the reverse way, and in his intention, he being a good skier himself, to make ski his means of conveyance. But all who acknowledge the merits of the fundamental idea must, if they know anything of the real condition of things, refuse any further sanction to the scheme. The very method by which Nansen proposes to reach the coast, that is to say, by abandoning the firm ship’s-deck and creeping like a polar bear from one rocking ice-floe to another on his way to the shore, shows such absolute recklessness that it is scarcely possible to criticise it seriously.”

“Let us suppose, however, that fortune favours the brave, and that Nansen has reached the east coast of Greenland. How will he now set about getting up on to the real flat expanse of the‘Inland ice, or, in other words, how will he pass the outer edge, where peak upon peak rise through the ice-mantle, and in all probability present at nearly every point an impenetrable barrier?” “Nansen’s proposal to climb the high mountains of the coast and from their summits step upon the expanse of ice which is dammed up against them thus betrays absolute ignorance of the true conditions.” “With what can be seen from the shore my experience ends, and I will not attempt to criticise the idea of crossing the inner tract of ice on ski, or the possibility of taking enough provisions, or any similar questions. But I think that there is a probability that this part of the scheme may be carried out if Nansen can once pass the outer edge of the ice.

“But there is one very different question on which I think I am not only qualified but bound to speak. And I say that, in my opinion, no one has the moral right, by setting out upon a venturesome and profitless undertaking, to burden the Eskimo of Danish East Greenland with the obligation of helping him out of the difficulty into which he has wantonly thrust himself. The few of us who know anything of the condition of things in East Greenland have no doubt that if Nansen’s scheme be attempted in its present form, and the ship does not reach the coast and wait for him till he has been obliged to abandon his design, the chances are ten to one that he will either uselessly throw his own and perhaps others’ lives away, or that he will have to take refuge with the Eskimo and be conducted by them along the coast down to the Danish colonies on the western side. And I say that no one has a right to force upon the East Greenlanders a long journey, which will be in many ways injurious to them.”

There is no doubt that these passages were written with every good intention, but they are, nevertheless, characteristic of the almost superstitious terror with which many people, and among them some who pose as authorities, and claim to have special knowledge of the subject, have regarded the Inland ice of Greenland and the passage of tracts of ice and snow generally, even in these latter days. The writer of the above article had himself in the course of several years’ exploration passed along the edge of the Inland ice, but it seems never to have entered into his head to make a little incursion into the interior. The first few steps would certainly have cleared his mind of some of his absurd hallucinations, and he would eventually have learned what an “absolute ignorance of the true conditions” really means. In another article, which betrays, if possible, even less knowledge of the subject, the writer declared that even if Nansen himself were mad enough to make any such attempt he would not get a single man to accompany him. In England, too, the press delivered itself of several articles adverse to the plan of the expedition.

But, in spite of these warning voices and in spite of the general opinion that the whole scheme was simple madness, there were, nevertheless, plenty of men who wished to join me. I received more than forty applications from people of all sorts of occupations, including soldiers, sailors, apothecaries, peasants, men of business, and University students. There were many others, too, who did not apply, but who said they were more than eager to go, and would have sent in their names, had it been of the slightest use. Nor were these applicants all Norwegians, for I received many letters, too, from Danes, Dutchmen, Frenchmen, and Englishmen.

I could, however, take none who were not thoroughly accustomed to the use of ski and men, too, of proved energy and endurance. Finally, I chose three Norwegians Otto Sverdrup, a retired ship’s captain; Oluf Dietrichson, first-lieutenant in the Norwegian infantry; and Kristian Kristiansen Trana, a peasant from the north of Norway.

As I had originally thought of taking reindeer, and ima­gined besides that some Lapps would be of use to me – because they possess that sense of locality and power of adaptation to all sorts of circumstances which such men of nature have as a common birthright – I had written to two well-known men living in Finmarken, asking them if they could find me a couple of Mountain-Lapps2 willing to join the expedition. I stipulated that they should be resourceful men, who were known to be clever mountaineers and to possess powers of endurance above the average; that they should be made fully aware beforehand of the dangerous nature of the undertaking, and that the fact must be clearly impressed upon them that there was just as much probability of their never returning home again as of surviving. And I further added that they must be unmarried, of an age between thirty and forty, as I considered that at this time of life the powers of both body and mind are best prepared to meet the trials of such an undertaking.

It was a long time before I received an answer to my inquiry. The post among the inland districts of Finmarken is leisurely, and is taken across the mountains in reindeer sledges every fortnight. At last when the time fixed for our start was approaching, I received an answer telling me that I could have two men from Karasjok, if I was willing to pay them well. I accepted their terms and telegraphed to them to come at once. The next thing I heard was that they were on the way and would arrive on such and such a day. I was exceedingly anxious to see them, of course. They were expected one Saturday evening, and I had some people down at the station to meet them and take them to their lodgings. But no Lapps arrived that day or on Sunday either, and we all wondered what had become of them.

Then on Monday I was told that they really had come, and so indeed they had, but by a goods train instead of the ordinary express for passengers. I hurried down to their lodgings at once, found their door, and, as I entered, saw standing in the middle of the room a good-looking young fellow, but more like a Finn than a Lapp, and away in the corner an old man with long black hair hanging about his shoulders, small in stature, and looking more stunted still as he sat huddled up on a chest. He had a much more genuine Lappish look about him than the other. As I came into the room the elder man bent his head and waved his hand in the Oriental manner, while the younger greeted me in the ordinary way. The old Lapp knew very little Norwegian, and most of my conversation was with the younger. I asked them how they were, and why they came by the goods train.

“We do not understand trains,” answered he, “and, besides, it was a little cheaper.” “Well, how old are you both?” “I am twenty-six, and Ravna is forty-five,” was the answer. This was a pretty business, for I had stipulated that they should be between thirty and forty. “You are both Mountain-Lapps, I suppose?” “Oh no! only Ravna – I am settled at Karasjok.” This was still worse, as I had made a point of their being Mountain-Lapps. “But are not you afraid to go on this trip?” said I. “Yes, we are very much afraid, and people have been telling us on the way that the expedition is so dangerous that we shall never come home alive. So we are very much afraid, indeed!”

I was very much inclined to send them back, but it was too late to get any one else to take their place. So, as I had to keep them, it was best to console them as well as I could, and tell them that what people had been saying was all rubbish. It was no manner of use to discourage them at the outset, for they were likely to lose their spirits quite quickly enough anyhow. Though they did not perhaps look quite so strong and wiry as I could have wished, still they seemed to be good natured and trustworthy. These qualities, indeed, they have shown to the utmost, and in endurance they have proved little, if at all, inferior to us. In other respects I found them of no particular use, as far as the accomplishments which I expected to find in them are concerned, and, as a matter of fact, they were never used for reconnoitring purposes.

The Lapps Balto and Ravna on Board the Thyra, May 1888.

Balto, my younger Lapp, on his return home wrote a short account of his experiences while he was away. After describing his voyage from Finmarken and telling how people on the way discouraged them, and informed them, among other things, that I was a simple maniac, he continues: “On April 14th we left Trondhjem and reached Christiania on the 16th. Nansen had sent a man to the railway station to meet us. This was Sverdrup, who came up to us and asked: ‘Are you the two men who are going with Nansen?’ We answered that we were the two. Sverdrup then told us that he was going with Nansen too, and had come on purpose to meet us. ‘Come along with me,’ he said; and he took us to a hotel, which is in Toldbodgaden, No. 30. An hour afterwards Nansen and Dietrichson came to see us. It was a most glorious and wonderful thing to see this new master of ours, Nansen. He was a stranger, but his face shone in our eyes like those of the parents whom we had left at home; so lovely did his face seem to me, as well as the welcome with which he greeted us. All the strange people were very kind and friendly to us two Lapps while we were in Christiania town, and from this time we became happier and all went well with us.”

As through the whole course of my narrative we shall have the company of the five men, I have already mentioned, the most fitting thing I can do will be to present them to the reader, with some short account of the antecedents of each. I will begin with my own countrymen and take them in the order of their age.

Otto Sverdrup was born on October 21, 1855, at the farm of Haarstad, in Bindalen, in Helgeland. His father, Ulrik Sverdrup, a member of an old Norwegian family, was an owner of farm and forest property. Accustomed from childhood to wander in the forest and on the mountains on all kinds of errands and in all sorts of weather, he learned early to look after himself and to stand on his own legs. Early, too, he learned to use his ski and a rough and impracticable country like that of Bindalen naturally made him an active and clever skier.

Otto Sverdrup

At the age of seventeen he went to sea, and sailed for many years on American as well as Norwegian vessels. In 1878 he passed the necessary examination in Christiania and sailed as mate for several years, being during this period once wrecked with a Norwegian schooner off the west coast of Scotland. On this occasion he showed to the full the sort of stuff he was made of, and it was mainly his coolness and perseverance which saved his crew. Since this he has sailed as captain on a schooner and a steamer, and one year spent the fishing season with a smack on the banks off the coast of Nordland. Of late years he has for the most part remained at home with his father, the latter having meanwhile sold his property in Bindalen and moved southwards to the farm of Trana, near Stenkjer. Here he has spent his time at all sorts of work, in the forest, on the river, floating timber, in the smithy, and fishing at sea, where as boat’s-captain he was unsurpassed.

Some years ago a man was wanted at Gothenburg to take charge of the Nordenfeldt submarine boat which was to be taken across the North Sea to England. A reward was offered, but no one was found willing to undertake this risky task. Sverdrup at this juncture accidentally appeared, and he offered his services at once. He prevailed upon a relative to go with him as engineer, and the two proposed to navigate the strange craft across the North Sea without further help. The prospect to Sverdrup was one of pure sport, but at the last moment the authorities changed their minds, and the boat was eventually towed across.

It is plain that a man of this type was specially created for such an expedition as ours. In the course of his vagrant and chequered life he had learned to find his way out of all kinds of difficult situations, and I need scarcely add that we never found him wanting in either coolness or resource.

Oluf Christian Dietrichson was born in Skogn, near Levanger, on the 31st of May 1856, and was the son of Peter Wilhelm Prejdal Dietrichson, the official doctor of the district. He was educated at Levanger, Trondhjem, and Christiania, entered the military school as a cadet in 1877, and received a commission as second lieutenant in the Trondhjem brigade in 1880, being promoted to the rank of first lieutenant in 1886. During the present summer he has received his captaincy.

Oluf Christian Dietrichson

He has all his life been a keen sportsman, and by good physical training he has hardened and developed his naturally strong and well-built frame. Of late years he has every winter gone long tours on ski through the greater part of Southern Norway, has passed through most of our valleys, from Skien in the south to Trondhjem in the north, and there are not many who have seen so much of the country in its winter aspect as he.

The acquirements of his military education stood the expedition in good stead. He undertook our meteorological diary practically single-handed, and the results of our surveys and our maps are due to him. He discharged these duties with an amount of zeal and self-denial which are more than admirable, and the merit of such work as he produced in such circumstances will only be appreciated by those who have had a similar experience. To take observations and keep a meteorological diary with the usual exactitude and punctuality, when the temperature is below -20° F., when one is dead-tired, or when death and destruction are at hand; or to write when the fingers are so injured and swollen by the frost that it is almost impossible to hold a pencil, needs an amount of character and energy which is far from common.

Kristian Kristiansen Trana was no more than twenty-four years old when he joined the expedition. This was considerably below the age which I considered most suitable for such a task; but, as he was fearless and strong and exceedingly eager to go with us, I did not hesitate to take him on Sverdrup’s recommendation, and I had no reason whatever to regret my choice.

He was born on February 16, 1865, at a cottage on the farm of Trana, which is now the property of Sverdrup’s father. At his home he has been chiefly engaged in forest work, but had been to sea once or twice, and was therefore likely to be a handy man. He proved steady and trustworthy, and when Kristian said that he was going to take anything in hand, I always knew that it would be done.

Samuel Balto

Samuel Johannesen Balto is a Lapp settled at Karasjok, and was twenty-seven when he joined us. He is of average height, and has none of the outer Lapp characteristics; he belongs, in fact, to the so-called “River-Lapps,” who are generally people of some size and have much Finn blood in them. He has spent most of his time at forest work, but for several years he has been out in the fishing season, and for a while, too, he has helped to tend reindeer among the Mountain-Lapps, being for a part of the time in the service of Ravna. He is a lively, intelligent man; he did everything he undertook with great energy, and in this respect was very different from his companion Ravna. He showed some powers of endurance too, was always willing to lend a hand at any job, and was thus of great use to us. And, lastly, his ready tongue and broken Norwegian constituted him to a great extent the enlivening spirit of the expedition.

Ole Nielsen Ravna is a Mountain-Lapp from the neighbourhood of Karasjok, and when he joined the expedition was forty-five or forty-six, he not being quite sure of the year himself. He has spent all his nomadic life in a tent, and wandered with his reindeer about the mountain wastes of Finmarken. His herd, when he left it for Greenland, was of no great size, and contained from 200 to 300 deer. He was the only married member of the expedition, and left a wife and five children behind him at home. As I have already said, I did not know this beforehand, as I had insisted upon all my companions being unmarried.

Like all Mountain Lapps, he was pre-eminently lazy, and when we were not actually on the move no occupation pleased him so much as to sit quietly in a corner of the tent with his legs crossed, doing absolutely nothing, after he had once brushed himself clean of snow. Rarely indeed was he seen to undertake any work unless he were directly called upon to do so. He was very small, but surprisingly strong, and capable of any amount of endurance, though he always managed to save his strength and reserve his powers. When we started he knew very little Norwegian, but for this very reason his remarks were extremely comical and provided us with plenty of amusement. He could not write, and had no acquaintance with so modern an apparatus as a watch. But he could read, and his favourite book was his Lappish New Testament, from which he was never parted.

Both the Lapps had come, as they declared themselves, merely to gain money, and interest and adventure had no place in their minds. On the contrary, they were afraid of everything, and were easily scared, which is not to be wondered at when it is remembered how very little they understood of the whole business at the outset. That they did not come back so ignorant as they went will be seen from some of Balto’s observations, which I shall subsequently quote. Ravna and Balto were good-natured and amiable; their fidelity was often actually touching, and I grew very fond of them both.

The members of Nansen’s Greenland expedition

1 “Ski”, literally a “billet” or thin slip of wood, and connected etymologically with the Eng. “skid” and “chide,” is the Norwegian name for the form of snowshoe in general use among the northern nations of the old world. The pronunciation of the word in Norway may be considered practically identical with the Eng. “she.” The compounds of the word which will occur in the course of the narrative are ‘skilöber’, a snowshoer, and ‘skilöbning’, snowshoeing, both formed from the verb “löbe,” to run. The only reason why the established English term “snowshoe” should not have been employed throughout is that this course would have led to inevitable confusion with the very dissimilar Indian snowshoe, of which also frequent mention is made.

2 The Lappish population falls into several more or less distinct divisions. The most interesting section, the real nomadic Lapps of the reindeer-herd and skin-tent, form as a matter of fact a small part of the whole. They are commonly known in Norway as “Fjeldlapper” (Mountain-Lapps), and  it was from among them that I had intended to take my two men. Far the greater number of the Lapps are settled either on the Norwegian coast as “Sölapper” (Sea-Lapps), where they maintain themselves chiefly by fishing ; or in the interior, at such villages or centres as Karasjok, Kauto­keino, Jokkmokk, Kvickjock, and Karesuando, as well as in most of the upper valleys of northern Sweden. The “Elvelapper” (River-Lapps), to whom I refer below in connection with Balto’s origin, are merely a small colony settled by the river Tana, and are, as I have said, supposed to be of mixed Lappish and Finnish blood.

1.

The Equipment

It was my original intention to take, if possible, dogs or reindeer to drag our baggage. Plainly the advantage of such a course is considerable if one can only get the animals to the spot where the sledging will begin. Many men of experience have maintained that neither dogs nor reindeer are really any help for long sledging expeditions, because they can only drag their own food for a limited period. This argument I do not understand, for, surely, if one cannot use the animals for the whole journey, one can take them as far as their provender lasts and then kill them.

If one has a sufficient number of dogs or deer, and takes as much food for them as they can drag over and above the baggage of the expedition, then one can advance rapidly at the beginning without taxing one’s own powers to any extent. At the same time, too, there is this advantage, that one can always procure a supply of fresh meat by slaughtering the animals one by one. For this reason so large a quantity of other food will not be necessary. And so, when one is at last obliged to kill the remaining animals, the expedition ought to have advanced a considerable distance without any exhaustion of the strength of its members, while they the whole time will have been able to eat their fill of good fresh meat. This is an important point gained, for they will thus be able to take up the work as fresh and strong as when they started. It will no doubt be urged that these advantages will not be gained if dogs are taken. But I can answer from my own experience that hunger is a sufficiently good cook to render dog’s flesh anything but unpalatable. The Eskimo indeed reckon it a delicacy, and it is certain that any one who could not in the circumstances bring himself to eat it would not be a fit person to accompany such an expedition at all.

If I could have obtained good dogs, I should therefore have taken them. Dogs are in some important points preferable to reindeer, because they are much easier to transport and much easier to feed, since they eat much the same as the men; while reindeer must have their own provender, consisting mainly of reindeer-moss, which would be a bulky and heavy addition to the baggage. However, it was quite impossible for me to obtain dogs which I could use in the time at my disposal, and I had to give up this idea. I then thought of reindeer, and not only wrote to Finmarken to make inquiries, but even bought moss for them in the neighbourhood of Röros. But then I found that there would be so many difficulties in connection with their transportation, and still more when we should have to land them in Greenland, that I abandoned the scheme altogether, and determined to be content with men alone.

When every scrap of food on which a man is going to live will have to be dragged by himself, good care will be taken to make everything as light as possible, and to reduce food, implements, and clothing to a minimum of weight. When one is busy with an equipment of this kind one begins instinctively to estimate the value of a thing entirely with reference to its lightness, and even if the article in question be nothing but a pocket-knife, the same considerations hold good. But care must be taken, nevertheless, not to go too far in the direction of lightness, for all the implements must be strong, since they will have to stand many a severe test. The clothing must be warm, since one has no idea what amount of cold it will have to meet, the food must be nourishing and composed of different ingredients in suitable proportion, for the work will be hard-harder, probably, than anything to which the workers have hitherto been accustomed

The sledge Nansen used during his Greenland Expedition

One of the most important articles of equipment for a sledge expedition is, of course, the sledge. Considering that in the course of time so many Arctic expeditions have been sent out, and especially from England, one would suppose that the experience thus gained would have led to a high develop­ment in the form of the sledge. This is, however, not the case; and it is a matter for wonder, indeed, that polar expeditions so recent as the second German Expedition of 1869 and 1870 to the east coast of Greenland, the Austrian and Hungarian expedition of 1872-1874 to Franz Joseph Land, and even the great English expedition of 1875 and 1876 under Nares to Smith’s Sound, set out with such large, clumsy, and unpractical sledges. Certainly the two latest expeditions, that of Greely in 1881-1884, and the rescue party led by Schley and Soley, were better equipped in this respect. The general mistake has been that the sledges have been too heavily and inadequately built, and at the same time too large. And as in addition to this the runners were usually narrow, it is not difficult to understand that these sledges sank deep into the snow and were often almost immovable. Some expeditions have certainly made use of the Indian toboggan, which consists of a single board curved upwards in front. It is generally of birch or some similar wood, and is about eight feet long by eighteen inches or more broad.

Strangely enough, few organisers of expeditions have thought of placing their sledges on broad runners. We Norwegians look upon this expedient as simply natural, as we are accustomed to our old-fashioned “skikjaelke,” which is a low hand-sledge on broad runners, resembling our ordinary ski. This was my model for the form of sledge which we actually adopted. Our sledge seemed to possess all desirable qualities: it was strong and light, rode high in loose snow, and moved easily on all kinds of surfaces. I based my design partly, too, upon that of the sledge which is described in the narrative of the Greely Expedition, and was used by the rescue party.

All the woodwork of the sledges except the runners was of ash, and of as good and tough material as could be procured. And, as picked ash possesses such wonderful strength, we were able to make the upper parts of the sledge light and slender, without reducing their strength too much. The runners of two of the sledges were of elm, and those of the rest of a kind of maple, as these two woods glide remarkably well upon the snow. This, as it happened, was not a point of much importance, because I had the runners shod with thin steel plates, which I had intended to take off when we were once upon the loose snow, but which were nevertheless used the whole way except in the case of one sledge.

The accompanying photograph will no doubt give a sufficiently good idea of the structure of our sledge, and not much further description will be necessary. No nails or pegs were used, but all the joints were lashed, and the sledges were thus more elastic under shocks and strains, which would have often caused nails to start. As a matter of fact, nothing whatever was broken the whole journey through. The sledges were about 9 feet 6 inches long by 1 foot 8 inches broad, while the runners, measured from point to point along the steel plate, were 9 feet 53/4 Inches. The fact that they were turned up behind as well as in front gave the whole sledge more strength and elasticity, and there was this advantage besides, that, had the fore end of a sledge been broken, we could have turned it round and dragged it equally well the other way. The chair-back-like bow which is shown in the drawing was made of a slender bar of ash bent into position. It proved of great service for pushing and steering purposes, especially when we were passing over difficult ground, and were obliged to take two men to each sledge.

The weight of each sledge without the steel runners was about 25 lbs., and with them rather more than 28 lbs. Along the central line of these plates were attached narrow bars of steel with square edges, which were meant to serve as a kind of keel, and to make the sledges steer better on ice and to prevent them from swerving. This is an important point, for when one is passing along the crevasses of a glacier the swerving of a sledge may take it and its load, and even possibly one or more of the party, down into the depths of the ice. These bars were of excellent service while they lasted; but, as they were exposed to continual shocks and hard wear among the rough ice near the east coast, they were soon torn off, and this was especially the case when we climbed into low temperatures, as the steel then became as brittle as glass. Future expeditions, therefore, which make use of these keels under their runners, ought to have them attached in a different way. The strongest method would be, of course, to have them made in one piece with the steel plates, but in this case there would be the disadvantage that they could not be taken off at will.

As the image shows, there was a ridge running along the upper surface of each runner. The runners were made com­paratively thin for the sake of lightness, and these extra ridges gave them the necessary stiffness and elasticity.

I had calculated that each sledge should be sufficient work for one man; but, as it is a good thing, when one is on difficult ground, to send one of the party on ahead to explore, and as in loose snow the leader has the hardest work to do, I thought it most practical to take only five sledges, and always put two men to the first.

The advantage of having a number of small sledges instead of one or two larger ones is that on difficult ground, where the work is hard, it is very troublesome to have to manoeuvre large sledges with their heavy loads, and, in fact, we should have often found it a sheer impossibility to advance without unloading and making portages. We, on the contrary, could always put two or three of the party to each sledge, and thus push on without any such delay or inconvenience. Some­times, indeed, we had to carry them bodily, loads and all.