THE WHILE DESERT

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White Desert.

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KANSAS CITY. MO PUBLIC LIBRARY

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THE WHITE DESERT

The White Desert

The Official Account of

The Norwegian-British-Sivedish

Antarctic Expedition

BY
JOHN GIAEVER

With contributions by

GORDON DE Q. ROBIN, E. F. ROOTS,
VALTER SCHYTT and BRIAN WALFORD

and a Foreword by

J. M. WORDIE
President of the Royal Geographical Society

Translated from the Norwegian by
E. M, HUGGAIID

E. P. BUTTON & COMPANY, INC.
New Yorfc, 19SS

Copyright, 1954, by E. P. Dution 6- Co., Inc.
All rights reserved. Printed in the U.S.A.

FIKST EDITION

K No part of this book may be reproduced
in any form without permission in writing
from the publisher, except by a reviewer
who wishes to quote brief passages in con
nection with a review written for inclwion in
magazine or newspaper or radio broadcast.

by E. P, Dutton 6- Co,, Inc., Ittfrt

LIBRARY OF CONCJimS CATALOG CJAIU) NVMBKK: 54 10924

To

those who did not return

BERTIL EKSTROM

JOHN JELBART

LESLIE QUAR

CONTENTS

Page

Foreword by J. M. Wordie II

Chapter

I An International Expedition Comes into Being 17

n A Hectic Prelude 25

in The Wintering Paity 85

iv From Oslo to the Scotia Sea 38

v An Interlude in the Scotia Sea 48

vi Queen Maud Land 52

vu Toil and Trouble in the Pack Ice 60

viir Lauding in Norselbukta 73

ix Maudheim 78

x Fifteen Men Begin Housekeeping 85

xi From Days of Sun to Polar Night 00

xn The Season of Darkness 100

xui We Crawl Out of Our Winter Lair 1 13

xiv South with the Dogs 1 19

xv The Weasels Advance the* Depots 129

XVJE By Dog Sledge to the Mountains 137

xvn The Summer Tourists Come and Go 155

Contents

Chapter "Page

xvni A Disaster Overtakes Us 161

xix Untrodden Peaks and Glaciers 168

xx In a Land of Midday Twilight 181

xxi A Long Winter in Storm and Darkness 199

xxn Where Summer Starts in November 206

XXIH The Seismic Journey, 1951-1952, by Gordon do Q. Robin 216

xxiv The Expedition Comes to an End 231

APPENDICES:

i Air Operations, First Season, by Wing-Commandcr

Brian Wai ford 239

ii Biographical Data 246

in Glossary 252

iv Glossary of Geographical Names 255

ILLUSTRATIONS

Photographs

FACING PAGE

Plate 1. The Norsel alongside the factory ship Thorshfiudi

with whales as fenders 72

Plate 2. The Auster is made ready for reconnaissance 73

The Norsel unloading 73

Plate 3. The wintering party, 1950-1951 88

Plate 4, The Norsel departs from Maudheim, February 20, 1950 89

Drifting snow covers Maudheim 89

Plate 5. Schumacher on his way to the hydrogen generator 104

Plate 6. Charles Swithinbank using a theodolite 105

Valtcr Schylt in the "snow laboratory" 105

Fred Roots at the drafting board 105

Gosta Liljcquist on the meteorological mast 105

Plate 7. Dogs in drifting snow 120

Recce places a flag to mark a dangerous crevasse 120

Plate 8. Towards the mountains by dog sledge 121

Plate 9. On the roof of Maudheim, January, 1951 160

Plate 10, At the NorseVs departure on January SO, 1951 161

Plate 11. Camp in front of the Borgen Massif 192

Illustrations

FACING PAGE

Plate 12. Planning a route in the Borgen mountains 193

Plate 13. A Weddel seal on the ice in Norselbukta 200

Emperor penguins 200

Plate 14. The surveyors and geologists teams pause at the

top of a pass in the Hermann Range 201

The Advanced Base, at the foot of Pyramiden

nunatak, October, 1951 201

Plate 15. Roots prepares to descend an overhanging snow com ice 216

The dogs pause for a rest below the cliffs of Domon 216

Plate 16, Lowering the flags on January 15, 1952 217

Homeward bound though the pack ice 217

MAPS AND DIAGRAMS

?w

The Atlantic Ocean, showing the tracks of the 4 Nnrarl 21

Tracks of the Norad on iho three voyages to Quern Maud Land 01?

Section through largo hut No, 2 at Muudhoim 70

General layout of Miwdhdm ft I

The area around Maudheim 93

Journeys made by the gluciologists and seismic party 146

Journeys made by the geologists and surveyors 152

Profile showing ice thickness 220 227

Map of the ice front 034

Swedish flights during the last season 2^5

FOREWORD

By J. M. WORDEE
President of the Royal Geographical Society

DKEAMS seldom come true, but Professor Hans Ahlmann s wish to see
an international expedition concentrating on Antarctic glaciology
has actually taken place and succeeded even beyond the dreams of
its originator. At that time Professor of Geography at Stockholm, he
had felt that his glaciological studies were imperfect so long as knowl
edge of Antarctic conditions, comparable to those which he himself
had studied in the Arctic, was not available.

Ahlmann returned from his latest Arctic expedition, to East Green
land, in 1939. War had broken out, and there was no indication that
normal conditions would ever return. In 1943, however, I received a
letter from him, to ask what would be the reaction in England to a
combined Antarctic expedition. To receive such an inquiry during
the war was a stimulant, for it showed that a great neutral nation had
already made up its mind about the ultimate outcome of the struggle.
Apart from that I naturally welcomed the proposals and promised co
operation, even though it might be many years before they came to
life.

Less than two years, however, elapsed before the next move, and
in the winter session of 1944*45 there was already a suggestion of
Ahlmann putting forward the details of his scheme. The first attempt
did not succeed, but in the autumn of 1945, Ahlmann addressed the
Royal Geographical Society and set out his plan.

This was the beginning of what ultimately developed into the Nor
wegian-British-Swedish Expedition of 1949-52. It was natural that
Norway should now play the leading part, for it had been decided

11

Foreword

that the expedition was to visit Norwegian Antarctic territory, A for
tunate circumstance then occurred. Early in 1948 Dr. H. U. Sverdrup
returned from the U.S.A. to become Director of the Norwegian Polar
Institute. His enthusiasm for the project influenced the Norwegian
Government, who became principal sponsors of the expedition, while
he himself became Executive Director.

The organization of the expedition was as follows: Each of the
three countries had its own national committee, and the throe chair
men, Professor Harald Sverdrup in Norway, Professor Ahlmann in
Sweden, and myself in Great Britain, together formed an Interna
tional Committee which was expanded as occasion demanded by
the inclusion of experts from each of the countries concerned. In
England we had a joint Executive Committee of the Royal Geograph
ical Society and the Scott Polar Research Institute, under my chair
manship, consisting of Dr, G. C. L. Bertram, Dr, B. B. Roberts, Mr,
Leonard Brooks, the Rev. W. L. S. Fleming (now Bishop of Ports
mouth ) , Dr. V. E. Fuehs, Dr. N. A, Mackintosh, and Mr, L. P. Kirwan,
who acted as Secretary.

The leader of the expedition was Captain John Giaever, who had
had long experience behind him in the polar service of the Norwegian
Government. Giaever has now set out his story. Ho himself makes no
claims to being a scientist The various sides of a modern scientific
expedition, however, are vividly portrayed. Ho describes the daily
routine and fills it out with the humors and delights of life at the base,
Giaever has written what to my mind is the liveliest awl best account
of an Antarctic expedition such as takes place today.

In addition he has had the help of many contributors who have
supplied accounts of their numerous and varied exploratory journeys.
These journeys, whether with dogs or weasels, became more and more
extended with each successive season and culminated in the seismic
survey of the glacial cover towards the close of 1951. This was a trav
erse under Gordon Robin which first examined the depths of I ho ice
shelf south of Maudheim and finally ended a long way out on the
Antarctic plateau at a height of 8,800 feet The distance covered had
been nearly 400 miles from the base at Maudheim. This was the first
occasion that a traverse of this nature had taken place in the Antarctic

32

Foreword

and the results are of the very greatest importance to the study of ant
arctic glaciology and antarctic weather conditions.

The expedition achieved its purpose, but this could only have taken
place with the willing co-operation of all the members irrespective of
nationality. That it succeeded and that the various elements were
fused into a single unit was due above all to the leader s experience
and to his light touch. Giaever says somewhere that he felt like an old
crow among wise young owls. I agree, but it is a case where the crow
must also be credited with his full share of wisdom.

THE WHITE DESERT

I

AN INTERNATIONAL EXPEDITION
COMES INTO BEING

"Now THIS expedition is beginning at last!" The words came in a
lusty yell from Nils Roer, the Norwegian surveyor.

He stood knee-deep in a gory pile of whale meat, on the roof of
the R.A.F/s huge crate on motor vessel Norsel s afterdeck, flinging
the heavy bundles across the little Auster plane with such force
that red splashes hurtled all round him. Other members of the ex
pedition caught the meat behind the aircraft and hurled the pieces
farther abaft the cabin roof. It was the two years* supply of dog food,
scattered far and wide on the decks.

Exultation, released in us all, filled the whole craft from truck
to keelson. For Norsel really was going south at last on her way to
the ice and her goal.

It was January 14, 1950. We had just ended our task with the
whaling factory ship Thorshfivdi in the Scotia Sea south of South
Georgia we had had dumped upon us men and dogs, weasels (snow
tractors) and machines and meat, and no end of equipment. From
now on we were to take our own course.

At that precise moment I was standing aft on deck in a chaotic
jumble of barking huskies, slimy whale meat, cables and winches,
and high piles of firmly lashed sledges. The vessel rocle sedately on a
gentle swell Our course was roughly south-southeast. We could just
sight the ice edge far away down to starboard.

"Do you hear?" Nils called out again. "At last this blessed expedi
tion is beginning properly."

17

The White Desert

But, I thought, no matter what you may think and yell at me, my
good Nils, this expedition certainly began years and years ago.

Yes, this expedition had a remarkably long preparation, and for the
life of me, I couldn t say when it really began. The plain fact is that
the preparation of an expedition is something which has to be gone
through both by those who organize it and by those who arc to road
about it afterwards. We are therefore obliged to go back several
years in order to complete the picture.

The history of the expedition falls, is it wore, into three periods.
The first period covers the conception of the idea itself, That oc
curred at a time when, during the late war, the Swedish gluciologist
Professor Hans Ahlmann, in his Stockholm laboratory, was studying
maps and air photographs from the German Schwahcntand expedi
tion to the Antarctic in 1938-39. Those maps showed a mountain range
about 100-200 miles inland from the ice front 1 between about 20
east and 12 west in Queen Maud Land. The interest of the gluciolo-
gist was stirred especially by the local glaciers on and between the
mountains, the moraines of earlier glaciers, and the blue frozen lakes
at the foot of the peaks away in the heart of these ice-ago forma
tions.

Even the ordinary newspaper reader (in which category I class
myself) probably knows something about the recession of the gla
ciers in the northern hemisphere during the last thirty to forty years.
We have read that the earth is now perhaps facing a new climatologl-
cal epoch a slow, almost insidious change m climate which may
prove to be of the utmost importance in the daily life of ordinary
folk, both for goad and for ill, and most of us have fallowed the ro-
ports of the scientists with intense interest.

Professor Ahlmann was the scientist who, during the interwar
years, probably ranged farthest in the search which aimed at inter
preting these phenomena. His footprints will bo found all over Scan
dinavia, iu Svalhard (Spitsbergen), Iceland and Kast Greenland
It so happened that in Svalbard one summer ho collaborated with

^"Ice^ront" Is the term describing the floating HwwurtMudnfl cliffs of un
ice shelf. "The term "ice barrier/ now dropped, used to refer to both "lev front**
and "ice shelf."

18

An International Expedition Comes into Being

the Norwegian meteorologist Harald Sverdrup and one of his as
sistants in Norway many years ago was the present Norwegian
Foreign Minister, Halvard Lange.

The German maps and air photographs of Queen Maud Land
showed that climatic changes had taken place in the south also. The
moraines under the mountain slopes were a clear indication of this.
Earlier expeditions to other parts of Antarctica had indeed made
similar observations, but inland in Queen Maud Land the conditions
were exceptionally suitable for more searching investigation, if only
an expedition could be taken there. Otherwise very little was known
about the glaciological and meteorological conditions over most of
a frozen continent, which in the north would have covered an area
from Alaska to North Cape in Norway. So vast a continent of ice
must obviously have a strong influence on the earth s climate, and
there ought to be some relationship between the increase or decrease
of ice in the north and in the south. The question naturally arose:
arc the glaciers receding in the Antarctic also, reflecting a climatic
change which is synchronized with the shrinkage in the Arctic? Here
perhaps lay the solution to problems of the greatest significance. One
expedition might perhaps not solve the problems, the Antarctic con
tinent is so vast; but glaciological research in Queen Maud Land
could certainly bring the solution much nearer.

Here it becomes necessary to look at the globe. The ice cover in
the Arctic, from the North Pole down to Svalbard, Greenland, Canada,
Alaska and the Soviet Arctic, consists of waterof sea covered by
drifting ice. Most lands south of this sea are relatively low. The ice
cover in the Antarctic is quite different Antarctica, with its high pla
teau around the South Pole, is a vast mountainous continent covered
in ice. At the South Pole itself the plateau is approximately 10,000
feet above sea level; but it was assumed that not far inland in Queen
Maud Land the surface of the ice sheet would be from 15,000 to
17,000 feet above sea level Under this vast mass of ice there is land.
But as to what sort of land it is, very little, indeed practically nothing,
is known*

We may compare Antarctica to a huge iced cake. The snowfall
throughout the year on the surface of the "cake" rams down the

19

The White Desert

masses of ice and squeezes them in a downward and outward direc
tion to the edge and the ocean, where massive icebergs break off and
drift out to sea. Glaciological and meteorological research might
show whether this continuous but extremely slow northerly move
ment of ice is decreasing or increasing. At the same time, measure
ment of the local glaciers in the mountains might provide evidence
of climatic changes.

Here, in simple outline, was the basis of Professor Ahlmann s plan*
His idea was that an expedition to Queen Matid Land should be
undertaken by Great Britain, Sweden and Norway. The territory
being Norwegian, the initiative and leadership should be Norwegian.
In 1945 he put his plans before scientists in the three countries, who
welcomed them with enthusiasm. The very idea of an international
expedition in the Antarctic was in itself enticing and new.

The original plans were based on the assumption that the polar vet
eran Major General Hjalmer Riiser-Larsen would take a party of from
six to eight men down to the edge of the pack ice off Queen Matid
Land, in the Norwegian transport ship Svatbard With the bare mini
mum of equipment, the party was to be flown by Oatalina aircraft
from the open sea to the Wohlthat Massifa mountain group lying
about lat 72 south, long, 15 east landing on the inland ico. Here the
little group would dig themselves down in the snow and live us best
they could for one year. After that they were to be fetched back by air.
This method of wintering in quarters excavated in snow had already
been used on the Greenland ice sheet and in Svalbarcl, but air trans
port to the mountain region might perhaps be thought rather hazard
ous. Little more was known about the possibilities of landing than
could be gleaned from the German air photographs, and that was not
much. At this stage the program included only gluciology and me
teorology. Another object in view was to lay, if possible, a largo depot
of equipment that was desirable though not absolutely essential, out
on the ice shelf, to be fetched from there afterwards by dog sledge,

Judging from later experiences during our expedition, I think 1
am right in saying that it was lucky wo did not start on any such
basis* At least it is pretty clear that the depot on the ice shelf would
have been of little advantage to the wintering expedition,

20

7 >-, / / ISLANDS

X .-" ./?

X \ \ V"- \ SSSv SI A^ Mtl1l - tJ tiS In11 ,/"\ ..X / ...-- / /
\ "" \ \! m ^ y ^ \j("^ } " * KERGUEIEN

Atlantic Ocean with the tracks of the Norsel;
south in 1949-60, and returning north, 1952

The White Desert

At this stage I was asked to undertake the leadership of this ex
pedition, and I expressed my willingness to do so. I should also like
to explain that until that day in May, 1947, I had never dreamed of
such a possibility, even though I had taken part in several confer
ences about the expedition. At once I began the task of drawing up
lists of stores and general equipment of all kinds, while at the same
time I tried to draft a provisional budget for the expedition. In Nor
way, however, little was done during this second period, probably
because all those Norwegians primarily concerned were transferred
to posts abroad just then. Moreover, Professor JJverdrup had ac
cepted the position of Director of the Norwegian Polar Institute,
and it was naturally assumed that he would ultimately take charge
of the organization of any expedition to Norwegian territory in Ant
arctica.

During this time applications came pouring in from people who
wished to take part in the expedition. There were hundreds of letters
from all over the workl-except Russia; letters from as far afield as
India, South Africa and FinnmarL Among all these applicants there
were certainly several who were well fitted for the post of an all-
round man, but we were to have only one of that kind. The majority
were young men keen on adventure, but there were very few scien
tists or other specialists, It was hard to have to disappoint so many,

While we waited for Professor Sverdup s return home from Amer
ica, preparations were continued in the three countries; but their
scope depended upon the measure of optimism which a handful of
interested persons could contrive to maintain In circumstances so
very uncertain. The impatiently expectant band included Professor
Ahlmann s assistant, Valter Schytt, who at the outset had bean pro
posed as chief glaciologist to the expedition.

Professor Sverdrup arrived in Oslo April, 1948, Within a few days
he went through the records and made up his mind to take up the
plan of the expedition and become its controlling organizer.

The plans were now radically revised and the program was con
siderably extended. Gradually the new plans were agreed to by the
hitherto unofficial committees in England and Sweden* In its main
features the program followed the lines I shall now indicate. The

22

An International Expedition Comes into Being

expedition was to consist of from twelve to fourteen men who for
two years would carry on research in meteorology, glaciology and
geology, as well as map making and other activities, from a main base
to be set up somewhere on the coast of Queen Maud Land. Sverdrup
pointed to Kapp Norvegia. From this base the aim would be to take
a main depot by weasel transport a distance of from 120 to 180 miles
inland towards the mountains in the south. Thence the various scien
tific field parties were to work southward with dog sledges during
the spring and summer months of 1950-51 and 1951-52. It was also
decided that we should charter a large sealer as an expedition ship.

The authorities in the three countries had for some time discussed
confidential reports on the expedition project, and had displayed
great interest in the plans. One factor, by no means the least, that
contributed to this interest was the proposal for collaboration on a
purely scientific basis. Sverdrup sent the first definite proposal, with
a detailed program and estimate of cost, to the Norwegian Depart
ment of Industry in May, 1948. Secretary of State Lars Evensen took
the matter in hand and the Norwegian Parliament passed the neces
sary appropriation early in the summer. Official invitations to share
in the expedition were then sent to Great Britain and Sweden, and
late in the autumn replies came in acceptance. At last the enterprise
was on a sure footing. N,B,S,A.E. 2 was born,

In all three countries we had to get to work without delay. For
some time now we had been fully prepared with our respective plans
and lists; but naturally it had not been possible for us to begin the
discussion of such details between the committees. In many respects
there were immense advantages in the arrangement that three na
tions should share in the expedition. I will mention just two of these
points. The expedition was free to pick its members from among
young, well qualified men in the three countries, and it was possible
for us to buy equipment and stores practically everywhere, without
having to consider loo carefully the prevailing currency restrictions*
On the other hand there certainly were disadvantages in having three
centers of administration, This arrangement entailed a good deal of

2 N.B.S.A.R tho abbreviated term used for the "Norwegian-Brilish-Swedish
Antarctic Expedition, 1949-52,"

23

The White Desert

correspondence, which ran away with time. Personally, however,
I would say that the advantages, even from the purely practical
standpoint, far outweighed the drawbacks.

The Norwegian Parliament had assumed that the leadership of the
expedition would be Norwegian and that the expedition ship was to
sail under the Noz*wegian flag. This implied placing the enterprise
under the direction of the Norwegian Polar Institute, with Professor
Sverdrup as responsible head. It was assumed, moreover, that the
head of the wintering party would be a Norwegian, The main out
lines of the organization were agreed at a meeting of representatives
of the three national committees in London in November 1948.
Britain was to be responsible for the research in geology, Sweden for
that in glaciology and Norway for the meteorological and survey
work. In addition Norway would be responsible for the transport to
and from Queen Maud Land. It will bo seen, however, from the list
of expedition members given below, that collaboration far outstepped
the limits of these broad categories. Professor Sverdrup handed over
to me the leadership of the wintering partyprobably by virtue of
my position as office head at the Norwegian Polar Institute. Now I
should point out that when a man is getting on for fifty ho has usually
passed his heyday as far as wintering in polar latitudes is concerned.
Moreover, the extended program involved an increase in responsibil
ity, and for a layman it obviously looked rather a doubtful proposi
tion to take on the leadership of this much larger party of young ex
plorers. All the same, I accepted the task joyfully. It is grievous to
come to a full stop in an eventful life. A permanent office job meant
for me at least a very discouraging semicolon* At the same time the
international committee showed their confidence in mo by putting
me in charge for the voyage out in 1949-50 and by laying on ma the
full responsibility for choice of a winter base site a task of vital im
portance to the whole success of the expedition.

24

II

A HECTIC PRELUDE

PROFESSOR HARALD SVEBDRUP, a man better acquainted with condi
tions in the polar regions than anyone I know, said in a radio inter
view in 1950 that the expedition to Antarctica lay "within the bounds
of possibility."

True enough. Certainly not even a band of picked men could
have faced much worse conditions of daily life and work. For my own
part, I venture to say that the physical and mental strain endured in
two years on the Antarctic ice shelf is at least 50 per cent greater
than anything I myself have undergone in the Arctic. And I have had
plenty of experience there even though it does not include a winter
spent on the Greenland ice sheet.

The outcome of any polar expedition depends largely on right
planning, the right choice of men and a selection of supplies and
equipment that is both right and ample then perhaps most of all
on luckl

In the matter of planning and equipment our expedition was indeed
in a specially fortunate position. As time goes on, opportunities of
learning from the experiences of other polar explorers grow more and
more favorable. At the same time all-round progress brings ever in
creasing knowledge in all spheres, better instruments and machines,
new and better materials, more adequate supplies with better keep
ing qualities, more effective drugs and so on.

For us another important factor was that we were able to rely upon
intimate co-operation among polar and other experts at the Royal
Geographical Society in London, the Scott Polar Research Institute
in Cambridge, the Geographical Institute in Stockholm, the Meteor-

25

The White Desert

ological Institute and the Polar Institute in Oslo. We also received
great help from a host of other experts practically all over the world.
I owe a great debt of gratitude to Dr. Vilhjalmur Stef ansson of New
York; Commander Finn Ronne of Washington, D.C,; Colonel Bernt
Balchen; the Arctic Institute of North America in Montreal; Major
General Hjalmar Riiser-Larsen and Dr. Kara Roclahl, both of Oslo;
Arne Pleym of Vads0, Sheriff in Lapland; Mr, Birger Pederson, mer
chant, of Skipagurra in Finnrnark; and many others.

By 1948 central buying depots had already been established in the
three countries, and placed in charge of Dr. Brian Roberts and Lieu
tenant Kevin Walton in London, Commander N, Unn&rus and Valter
Schytt in Stockholm, and the Norwegian Polar Institute in Oslo, Be
sides this, the members of the expedition were set to work as soon as
they were appointed.

As I have said, we had begun in goo<l time to draw up lists of sup
plies and equipment; but not until the end of 1948 could a decision
be reached on how the buying should be distributed among the three
countries. The British were to procure clothing, electrical equipment
with diesel generators, everything to do with radio, sledging rations,
weasels, some dog sledges, tents, thirty dogs, and Alpine equipment
such as ice axes, ice spears, ropo and so on. Sweden undertook to
provide the bulk of the provisions, the houses, special packing mate
rials, stoves, cookers, Primuses, lamps, kitchen equipment and tools,
bedding, medical supplies, rifles with ammunition, outboard engines
for boats, office supplies and much more besides, Norway became
responsible for some of the provisioning, such as canned fish, dried
and canned fruit and vegetables, fruit drinks and syrups, some dog
sledges and tents, all skiing equipment, gasoline, kerosinc, lubricat
ing oils, painting gear and boats, at least thirty clogs and dog food,
leather garments and sleeping bags, and weasel trailer sledges with
towing wires. (Sweden supplied two types of sledges*) Norway was
to procure an expedition ship*

Of course we knew very little about the physical conditions in
Queen Maud Land. Of weather conditions in winter wa knew ab
solutely nothing. Should we get much storm and blizzard? Would the
temperature drop to 60 or more degrees below zero? Should we have

26

A Hectic Prelude

loose deep snow or hard steep drifts? We had not the remotest idea.

My policy therefore was to make full preparation for the worst,
while hoping for more tolerable conditions. When there was any
question on equipment or house construction, Sir Douglas Mawson s
The Home of the Blizzard was my "cook book" if possible seasoned
with additions from Amundsen, Scott, Shackleton, Byrd and Norden-
skjold.

A point of special interest in an account like this will obviously
be the practical field equipment. In this province there was really
something like a tug of war between the British and us Norwegians,
while the Swedes "thanked Heaven they had no particular wishes/
The British had their ideas with regard to polar equipment and we
had ours. And the Swedes, all the same, certainly had their ideas too.
With polar equipment, as with so much else, the problems have more
than one practical solution. Very soon, however, we agreed to a com
promiseto take out both British and Norwegian field equipment,
and choose the best after entirely objective testing "the hard way."

This turned out, as we shall see, a particularly fortunate decision
where vital necessities were concerned. Let no one imagine, however,
that at the end of two years collaboration we were in agreement on
every detail. As I have said, many things were equally good and suit
able, and we stuck to our own opinions.

An outline of my main ideas in the matter of kit may be of interest
at this point.

The head; Skiing cap of thick material, lined and with a wide peak
(particularly for protection against sun and wind, partly as a support
for the anorak hood); light, not windproof, pilot s fur helmet.

The neck: A double woolen scarf, five feet long and ten inches wide.
May be used singly or in folds round die neck as an ordinary scarf,
or pulled down over the head and neck.

The body: Thick woolen underclothing (not combinations), if
possible with a cotton jerkin and linen shorts underneath, to simplify
the most essential washing; pants preferably with elastic round the
waist. Good length in sleeves and legs of pants.

A woolen work shirt with a long tail and preferably a lapover front
opening,

27

The White Desert

"Icelanders" (heavy sweaters) with turnover collar, the sleeves
coming down over the wrists. Lighter sweaters for indoor use. Thin
leather patches on the elbows are advisable,

A windproof suit of anorak and trousers. The hood is edged with
wolverine or young polar bear skin (to counteract rime-formation),
with a drawstring, not a zipper. The drawstring round the waist is
put inside, to obviate freezing up. Fur edging at the wrist. The
trousers: a lamp wick drawstring round the waist, no front opening,
plenty of width and length, a lamp wick ticstring round the ankles.
Double material on knees and elbows. Large straight pockets with
edges doubled over to shut out driving snow.

Breeches of thick woolen material and of ordinary khaki* Large
overalls.

The feet; Thick woolen stockings or British "duffle-slippers", or
slippers of blanket material with inside soles of scnncgrass. Coarse
pullover stockings or socks of soft dogskin with the hairy side inward.
Insoles of felted wool with a metal spring stiffener, also Lapp shoes of
ox hide.

Heavy shoes with sewn soles* Polar boots; double, well-covered
nails in the soles, the heels fixed with hickory pegs.

Lapp moccasins, groused inside with tar compound

All boots and shoes must be at least two to three sizes larger than
the shoes normally used at home*

The hands: Wristlets. Fingcrloss mittens of wool and of dogskin.
Woolen finger mittens. Thick woolen mitts. Working gloves and
mitts of thin waterproof leather. Windproof mitts with leather palms.
Driving mitts of dog or reindeer skin.

In addition I obtained high felt shoes for indoor use, low rubber
boots for wear in summer and kncovhigh rubber hoots for use on board
ship* Very popular were the English knee-high boots made of canvas
with rubber soles.

Anorak and trousers of nylon proved best of all at tho base during
the summer, because the snow did not cling to the material; but for
sledging expeditions nylon is too close in texture, and in winter it
freezes stiff.

One important point about both clothing and footwear in tho polar

28

A Hectic Prelude

regions is that everything must be wide and roomy, light and supple
and with a windproof cover outside.

A fixed lining to fur or fabric in clothes, boots or shoes and mittens
is altogether objectionable; hard to dry properly, practically im
possible to mend. It is preferable by far to wear several separate
garments.

The rest of of the field equipment will be dealt with as the story
unfolds.

The food supply must also be treated in a later chapter. The list
was made out as ample provision for fourteen men for a period of
three years. The difficulty in provisioning an Antarctic expedition
from Europe is that most of the material has to be carried through
the tropics without adequate refrigeration space. Experience has
shown that one must really count on having a certain proportion of
the supplies spoiled, and the estimates have to allow for this. My
list of supplies may have looked far too generous (I myself thought
it was moderate) ; yet it turned out that we were obliged to have ad
ditional stocks brought by the Norsel in 1951. All the salt fish and
herring had been literally boiled to a pulp in the barrels, and much
of the salt meat went sour. Some of the canned food was badly
damaged.

Man docs not live on a mathematical diet of calories and vitamins
and salts alone. It s not much good relying entirely on the multiplica
tion table when one has to feed fourteen men in the Antarctic. Take
my word for it! The appetite certainly accepts no physiological
theories.

The large amount of equipment we should have to take with us
entailed use of fast mechanical transport. We chose weasels, al
though experience of these tracked vehicles had not been entirely
satisfactory. The weak points were the tracks; but our Swedish me
chanic, Bertil Ekstrom, thought they could be sufficiently reinforced.
Our three weasels were bought in England and carefully overhauled
in the Army workshops. Four weasel sledges were built in Norway
from our own design. Made of hickory, with iron under the runners,
they weighed approximately 400 pounds and were constructed to
take a load of l| tons (we often loaded them with three tons). The

29

The White Desert

towing lines were wire, but the two Swedish weasel sledges were
towed by iron rods coupled to the weasel.

Two sixteen-foot dories were obtained, of the same type as we
now use at the Norwegian hunting stations in northeast Greenland.
They are reinforced to take a twelve horsepower outboard. The
stern and the side are plated with sheet iron for protection against
drift ice, I insisted on taking these boats, however unlikely it might
seem that we should find any use for them at the base. I was thinking
of the possibility that in 1952 we might be compelled to put off from
the coast without any outside aid. Things did not turn out so; yet
time was to show that we had to avail ourselves of one boat in a
desperate situation.

One of the more conspicuous pieces of equipment which at this
time caused me the greatest anxiety was Valter Schytt s ice boring
machine. It was purchased from Canada, and when assembled
weighed about two tons, This colossus could quite well be dismantled
into separate sections of up to 900 pounds; but even so, for me the
creature was the cause of one long succession of nightmares. Still-
all that anxiety was utterly wasted. The machine was put ashore and
installed with no trouble at all

It would be too great a digression if I were to describe the hectic
buying period after January, 1949, in London, Stockholm and Oslo*
My normally tidy office was soon a depot for all sorts of goods, where
perpetual conferences were held among piles of fur and woolen kit,
cooking utensils and every imaginable kind of equipment On the
desk was a chaos of lists, maps and piles of letters which was enough
to denote an activity no less strenuous in both the other headquarters,
On had to work by day and think by night Commander Unn&rus in
Stockholm bore perhaps the greatest burden In these months, because
so much of the equipment had to be bought in Sweden, Ho had
hastened to the aid of his old friend Professor Ahlmann. Tilings at
the Swedish end would hardly have gone so smoothly without Com
mander Unn&rus combination of military order, business capacity
and keen interest But on one occasion he did send out an S.O.S.j
"Brethren, for God s sake come to Stockholm and help me! Tills is
the deluge!"

30

A Hectic Prelude

"The deluge" at one moment comprised, for instance, a colorful
selection of cups, dishes, drinking vessels, etc., in plastic, decoratively
arranged on my friend s desk. Proudly he pointed to the handsome
collection:

"Fine, Captain? Don t you think so?"

I put a match under a cup, and it melted. I flung dishes and vessels
on the floor, so that the pieces hurtled from wall to wall.

"Oh, hell! That s enough!"

Ahlmann in consternation peered out at us from his inner sanctum.

"What the devil are you up to there? Is it an earthquake? Or have
you come to blows?"

"Oh, no, Professor," replied Unn6rus in jubilant tones, "it s only
this confounded bull of a Norseman testing Antarctic equipment.
And he did that all right!"

"So I see!" said Ahlmann mournfully. "This gets me down."

"Well, now we know tJiat much!" said the commander. "It was a
splendid exhibition of efficiency."

"I believe you!" Ahlmann sighed. "Lets hope he s not going to test
the boring machine in the same way."

I doubt if the testing of materials went on in such a lively manner
in Larry Kirwan s office at the august Royal Geographical Society s
headquarters over in London, or indeed at the Scott Polar Research
Institute in Cambridge. Still I have no doubt that many of these
offices, on occasions at any rate, looked as much like village general
stores as did their opposite numbers in Stockholm and Oslo. And I
am sure, too, that Kirwan and his little staff worked like beavers to
get everything together and to be up to time. The details actually
depended on Lieutenant Kevin Walton, but I had a strong impression
that Dr. Brian Roberts was well to the fore. And Kirwan s mind was
for ever brooding over the piles of stores. The pressure of work over
there west of us was certainly on the same level and as full of in
terest as it was in Norway. As we learned later, all the work of our
British friends gave excellent results. I am personally much indebted
to Kirwan and his staff,

31

The White Desert

It gradually became evident that the expeditionary equipment
would be very bulky, and that we Norwegians hardly had a sealer
large enough.

For that reason we renounced the plan of providing the expedi
tion with escort as far as the whaling grounds by one of Thor Dahl
and Company s whaling factory ships. From there, if necessary, a
buoy boat was to have taken us in to the ice front

Nevertheless, we gladly accepted the shipping company s offer
to have the weasels, boring machine, about sixty dogs and five men
taken south as far as the ice edge * in the factory ship Thor$h0udL
There the expedition ship would meet the factory ship and take over
the men, dogs and equipment On the voyage the five men would work
at the reinforcement of the weasel tracks, and on arrival at the whaling
grounds put together about 6,000 day rations of "dog pemmicanT
made of whale meat powder, maize flour and whale oil. The expedi
tion ship thus escaped having to carry the heaviest deck cargo and the
dogs through the tropics and across the ocean south to Africa. In ad
dition we were promised a load of about twenty tons of whale meat,
to be taken aboard when we reached the whaling grounds* Through
some misunderstanding, however, the place of meeting was notified
to me as about 40 to 45 east, whereas the Thorshtfvdi was in fact to
operate south of South Georgia or between SO and 40 west. This
meant an intervening distance of about 80 of longitude, or 3,000
nautical miles.

Of our sixty picked sledge dogs, the British were to provide thirty
from their bases in Graham Land, while the Norwegians would
procure thirty from Greenland and Svalbard,

Now if we had had any idea that the Thorshtfodl was going to the
whaling grounds near South Georgia, it would have been a simple
matter for the British dogs to be taken there and then collected by the
expedition ship* As things were, however, these dogs had to be taken
all the way to England, kept there in quarantine during the waiting
period, and then shipped to Norway in the late autumn of 1049. In
spite of inoculation several dogs died of hard-pad in England, As a

1 "Ice edge" is th torm uscl for the edg$ of the pack ice; not to bo confused
with "ice front/* th ed&e of the ice shelf,

32

A Hectic Prelude

result of the misunderstanding I have mentioned, the poor dogs had
to pass through the tropics twice in the course of about six months.
And as for Sir Miles Clifford, Governor of the Falkland Islands, al
ways so ready with his support, the whole affair was enough to make
him turn gray with anxiety,

In August I received the first disquieting reports that hard-pad
had broken out among the dogs in England. I telegraphed at once to
the leader of the Polar Institute s expedition in Svalbard, naval
Lieutenant Kaare Lundquist, and asked him to obtain as many dogs
as possible from the Store Norske Spitsbergen Coal Company kennels
in Longyearbyen, and bring them to Oslo. The company proved very
kindly disposed, and Lieutenant Lundquist brought home twelve
wcll-broken-in dogs. They were the best dogs we had at Maudheim.

Meanwhile, the question of a ship was becoming an urgent prob
lem. In May, 1949, we received a proposal from the well-known Arc
tic shipping firm, Jakobsen Brothers of Troms0, Towards the end of
the occupation the Germans had had three ocean-going tugs in Nor
way; these were rather small, but strongly constructed as ice breakers.
One of these ships, the Hertfyfjord, had been reconstructed as a
sealer, and was lost on the return journey from Newfoundland that
spring. The second was now in the possession of the Norwegian Gov
ernment and not available. But the third had not been finished till
1945. The hull lay at a yard in Tonsberg.

Jakobsen Brothers offered to buy the hull, have it towed to a yard in
Flensburg, Germany, and fit it out as a combined sealing and expe
dition ship, which would be at our disposal from the end of October.
The offer was accepted and the necessary currency arrangements
were made, The hull was towed to Flensburg.

Put very briefly, that is the story of how Norsel came into being.
The German dockyard achieved the incredible within three months
a practically dismantled ship s hull was reconstructed and fitted out,
and on October 25, 1949, the completed Norsel was lying in Oslo
harbor.

Norsel $ dimensions are as follows: Gross registered tonnage 592,
Length 150 feet. Beam about thirty feet. Draught fifteen feet six
inches. Engine 1,200 horsepower cliesel, Speed in calm sea twelve

33

The White Desert

knots. Two winches with five and eight tons lifting capacity. Carrying
capacity, exclusive of oil, 18,400 cubic feet Crew on sealing voyage
thirty-four to thirty-eight men, on expedition thirteen to fifteen men.
Berths for expedition party (excluding crew) twenty. Deck sp^ce
600 square feet on foredeck and 1,100 on afterdeck. *

The ship was substantially reinforced and was equipped with the
most up-to-date navigation instruments.

For me personally it was a special satisfaction to secure my old
schoolfellow Captain Guttorm Jakobsen as master of the expedition
ship, and his brother Torgils Jakobsen as chief engineer. I venture to
say that these two young men represent the best my home town of
Troms0 can offer in qualified ice navigators. Guttorm Jakobsen was
one of Norway s foremost master mariners during the Second World
War, and he may be seen wearing (very seldom ) both the CXB.E, and
Lloyd s medal for bravery. Moreover, I knew for a certainty that this
old and highly esteemed shipping firm would do its utmost to .satisfy
the requirements of the expedition.

In 1949 the Royal Air Force offered to send with the expedition
two Auster planes with crews, in charge of Squadron Leader G. B.
Walford. The planes would be equipped with both floats and skis.
Their task would be to aid in navigation of the ship through the pack
ice, to fly along the coastal ice front in order to find a convenient
landing place and to undertake reconnaissance flights round the
winter base. The offer was gratefully accepted.

Finally an arrangement was made that we should have with us
for the first summer two observers-J. A, King, head of the Synoptic
and Forecasting Branch of the Union Weather Bureau in South
Africa, and P. G* Law, Officer in Charge of the Australian National
Antarctic Research Expeditions. They were to join the Nortel at
Gape Town,

34

Ill

THE WINTERING PARTY

So MANY expedition leaders have written about the special qualifica
tions required in men who are to spend a winter in the polar regions.
One thing certain is that a wintering party may be exposed to mental
as well as physical strain of the utmost severity.

Some like to choose men who neither drink nor smoke. Some favor
youth, others want rather older people. It is an axiom, too, that mem
bers of an expedition ought not to be too tall or too heavy. They must
be mentally well-balanced, but above all they should have a light-
hearted attitude toward life. And so on.

I agree that the choice of men is enormously important. For a
winter explorer, perfect health is obviously essential. I have seen the
most cheerful of optimists fall into a state of melancholy brooding and
homesickness during a polar winter, and I have seen the most talka
tive and hearty fellows turn sulky and silent and limp. Yes, the very
sturdiest of them have become unnerved and even shown fear of the
dark. There is really no rule in the matter. I have seen an apparently
delicate and nervous woman from the city stand three years of
captivity as well as any man.

Often one makes a wrong choice. But young fellows who are
sportsmen, thoroughly interested and in good health can usually
manage without any difficulty.

The larger the wintering party, the greater the demands made on
each individual member. A Danish polar explorer once said to me:
"Two men are ideal. Three men are too many. Ten men are hell."

There may be much truth in this. But on the whole that aspect
of polar expeditions is often dramatically exaggerated perhaps be
cause the reading public have been well trained to assume that "the
polar night" is bound to drive most human beings to the verge of
insanity.

35

The White Desert

In 1949 I was without any experience of expeditions on which fif
teen members were huddled in a single group. I had never gone
through a winter as one of a party that included both scientists and
laymen. And I had never lived on an altogether lifeless sheet of ice.

People said it would be tough work to get enthusiastic scientists
to collaborate with laymen for so long a period without friction. None
of us expected that all friction could be avoided.

People said that those who applied for jobs in such an expedition
must be strong individualists, and individualists were cgocen tries.
Scientists, according to these people, were intellectuals, and the more
intellect there was the more dogmatic and critical the attitude.

Finally, one was assured that it would be a threefold impossibility
to manage a band of individualists from five different nations.

Time had to answer such questions. My experience is that an
expedition leader will hold his own provided he does not fish for
popularity. It will be his plain and veiy unpleasant duty to act as the
scapegoat for criticism in order to obviate disputes among the mem
bers of die party. It is better for the whole band to be unanimous in
their fury against the leader than to quarrel among themselves.

Well in our case the leader s task was a comparatively simple one*
Time was to show that the wintering party was composed of the right
type of young man. Very few scientific specialists offered their ser
vices, and only one doctor. Providence willed it that the right men
should apply. When it came to the laymen of the party, the matter
was quite simple* I chose men I knew.

The composition of the party was as follows:

John Schelderup Giaever, leader (Norway).
Valter Schytt, glaciologist, second in command (Sweden),
Gordon da Quetteville Robin, physicist, third in command (Aus
tralia).

Nils J0rgen Schumacher, meteorologist (Norway).
Ernest Frederick Roots, geologist ( Canada ) .
Ove Wilson, doctor (Sweden).
Costa BL Liljequist, meteorologist (Sweden),
Nils Roer, surveyor ( Norway ) *

36

The Wintering Party

Alan Reece, assistant geologist (England).

Charles Swithinbank, assistant glaciologist (England).

Egil Rogstad, chief radio operator (Norway).

Bertil Ekstrom, mechanical engineer (Sweden).

Peter Melleby, mechanical engineer, in charge of dogs (Norway).

Leslie Quar, radio operator (England).

John Snarby, cook (Norway).

Biographical details about each of these men are given at the end
of this book. I should add that originally Schj01berg Nilsen carne
with us as cook, but he was taken ill and was ordered home when
the Norsel returned in 1950. Snarby and Leslie Quar were taken on
when the wintering party was landed.

The Expedition Committee thought it desirable that certain mem
bers go through some special training for the work they were to carry
out. Schytt went to Switzerland for further study of glaciology.
Robin studied seismic measurements in Sweden. Together with Schu
macher, he studied radio-sonde technique in Norway. Swithinbank
went to Sweden for glaciological study and there received some in-
truction from Schytt. Rogstad was sent to London to make himself
familiar with the radio sets. He also went through a course in tele-
photo work. Wilson learned to drive dog teams and took a course
in veterinary surgery in Stockholm, He also went through a course of
dentistry, and even learned haircutting. Melleby took a course in
navigation.

Several of the Swedish members were present at the trial erection
of the expedition huts in Ornskoldsvik, Sweden. Schytt was put in
charge of this work; and in addition he took a series of photographs
and notes which later proved to be of the greatest value during the
hut construction in February, 1950.

Schytt s large boring machine was tested on the Haxxlanger Glacier
in the spring of 1949tlus occasion being in itself something of an ex
pedition, shared in by several of the party.

In addition many of the members had their share in the planning,
buying and other preparations. They were thus well up in the details
of the equipment itself as well as its me.

37

IV

FROM OSLO TO THE SCOTIA SEA

IN THE summer of 1949 the polar deities almost stopped me from
joining the expedition to the Antarctic. I do not know myself what
difference this might have made in the long run, but the interlude was
an exciting one for me personally.

It turned out that I had, as usual, to take charge for that summer,
too, of the Norwegian relief expedition to northeast Greenland. We
generally look upon these summer voyages as being rather in the
nature of holiday trips, and I was really in need of a slight holiday
just then, The preparations for the big expedition to the south were
as far advanced by now as was possible at this stage. It was assumed
that I should be back in good time for the final spurt towards the
end of August. But northeast Greenland cold-shouldered us that sum
mer, and we experienced the most difficult ice conditions of any year
so far.

The expedition to northeast Greenland in the summer of 1949
might in itself have been the subject of a book, for the pack ice from
the north lay in a thick porridgelike mass outside Clavering Fjord
when we began to break through it towards the oast at the end of
August. I was prepared for a winter ice drift along the coast of Green
land, when the pack ice suddenly opened up exactly and only at the
spot where we lay held fast at almost 74 north in the middle of Sep
tember. We had by then endured a three weeks* nightmare, but in
the course of three days we forced our way out into the open sea,
through about 200 nautical miles of the worst pack ic I have seen*

Late in September I got back to my office at the Norwegian Polar

38

From Oslo to the Scotia Sea

Institute, and when I went through the list of what still had to be
accomplished for the Antarctic expedition I did feel rather despond
ent. Every single hour was precious now. But Professor Sverdrup
received me with these familiar words "Well, well, we shall just have
to do the impossible first and the essential afterwards." Which we
did in England, Sweden and Norway. And everything was ready
when Norsel put into Oslo on October 25, 1949. We have many to
thank for that miracle.

The vessel was inspected early one Sunday morning, and Professor
Sverdrup was able to assure Captain Guttorm Jakobsen that the
whole thing was every bit as good as we could have dared to hope.
Such a polar ship as this had surely never been seen before. I myself
clambered down into the forehold and looked at the reinforcements
from the bows aft and amidships. I went all over the vessel, and after
wards I could only nod my approval to Guttorm. Norsel was all a
polar navigator could ever wish. We had the modern expedition ship
of 1949. But it was for us to demonstrate what Norsel could achieve.
The ship was still moored in Oslo harbor.

It was pouring rain when the British party with dogs and weasels
reached Oslo on October 27 and were driven in trucks to Sande-
fjord. The following day the factory ship Thor$h0vdi went south
ward with Alan Reece, Charles Swithinbank, Bertil Ekstrom, Peter
Melleby and Schj^lberg Nilsen. With this the expedition had begun.
But I expected telegrams from Reece about dogs dying on the way.
And they camel

The next stage was the loading of all the Swedish equipment at
Gciteborg under the supervision of Commander Unn^rus. This con
sisted of hut sections, furniture, instruments, a varied stock of equip
ment and all kinds of stores. The rain came bucketing down and all
the things were soaked through before they arrived on board. And
the holds were filled up more than I had thought was possible before
all the material from Oslo and London had been put aboard.

"Why, the ship is full alreadyl" said Guttorm, He gave me a side
long glance full of reproach. But he was to say this again many times
in the months to come. My experience is that a polar vessel never
is fully laden. We put the insulation materials for the huts on deck,

39

The White Desert

and the sea washed most of these overboard. So we had to get cork
sheets which could stand sea water and later on frost. We were forced
to put ashore all the parts for one hut, in order to free some space on
board. This meant considerably less house room in the Antarctic, but
we just had to cut down. We got rid of all ready-made furniture in
any form. We should have to manage with empty packing-cases in
stead. A great deal of the cargo was restowed in Oslo. Every cubic
inch had to be made the most of. A ship s hold has probably never
before been so tightly packed.

"Now the ship is absolutely full I" said Captain Guttorm in weary
tones.

I dared not answer him as I thought of all the stores we must still
take aboard in London and Cape Town not to mention equipment
and whale meat from the ThorsJitfvdi, the planes and all the gasoline,
Guttorm declared the ship was going to split, and there and then he
got his first gray hair.

H. M. King Haakcm and IL R. H. Crown Prince Qlav, together
with Lars Evcnsen, the Minister of State, and Hcrr Zimmor, the offi
cial responsible for the expedition, paid us a visit cm board the NorscL
It was a delight to show the two royal visitors so fine u ship. They
wanted to see every tiling, and neither Sverdrup nor 1 could answer
all the specialist questions they put to us, Captain Guttorm came
thoroughly under fire*

"There s a pair of seamen for you!** he said afterwards.

But His Majesty said to me: "Now do not land on an ice shelf that
will break loose and drift out seal" Perhaps it is a king s duty to
know all about his own lands. I came to remember this wise advice
later, for we were on the point of doing precisely that.

The departure from Oslo on November 17, 1949: a gray, cold,
rainy day; a small band of relatives, journalists and broadcasting
staff on an obscure jetty in Oslo harbor. In the middle of the group
Major-General Riiscr-Larson was a commanding figure, and I
thought he is the only one who knows what we have in front of us
now. The Swedes who were joining us had arrived in Oslo the .same
morning.

London; Professors Sverdrup and Ahlmann went ashore very

40

From Oslo to the Scotia Sea

reluctantly, I imagine. A flood of journalists, photographers, broad
casting and television people broke like a wave over the ship and us.
In addition we had to take in much more expedition equipment, and
I avoided Captain Guttorm as far as possible.

Then came telegrams from the Thorsh0vdi about more and more
sick dogs. This was serious indeed, for unless we had at least fifty
dogs the field program of the expedition would be substantially cur
tailed. An anxious meeting at the Royal Geographical Society re
sulted in a telegram to the factory ship: "Kill the worst cases and use
penicillin."

In London the R.A.F. contingent came on board with its two
specially equipped Auster planes. This was part of the expedition
which Squadron Leader G. B. Walford had long been preparing
with impressive efficiency and interest. All the radio sets and other
such apparatus had been installed while the vessel lay in London.

Together with the Squadron Leader the unit was composed of
Flight Lieutenant K. M. H. Tudor, Sergeant P. D. Weston, Corporal
W. B. Gilbey, and Corporal L. A. Quar.

One of the planes was completely assembled (but without wings)
in an enormous crate which was arranged as a workshop. It fitted in
athwartships between the engine-room casing and the deckhouse aft.
The other plane, mounted into a smaller container, slipped into place
on the port side.

Then the stevedores swarmed aboard, while the quay was piled
high with the British equipment. Trucks belched out mountains of
packing cases. Norsel gave them a grudging reception.

We glided out of the Thames after a bustling farewell I went up
on the bridge, Guttorm said nothing. Nor did L We were both fagged
out

This was on November 23, 1949. In London we had also taken
aboard Fred Roots and Gordon Robin.

Someone murmured behind me: "Good-by to all that! For the
time being/

I felt that a great burden had been lifted off my shoulders. New
burdens lay ahead. But a long way ahead. That night I was lulled to
sleep on the rhythmic rise and fall of the ocean waves, while NorseTs

41

The White Desert

diesel-driven throbbing hammered my excited brain into uncon
sciousness.

Gales in the Bay of Biscay and off the Canaries proved to us that
Norsel was a capital sea boat. But seasickness kept a stubborn hold
on certain of the passengers. We had with us three budding mission
aries who were supposed to help in the galley for their passage to
Cape Town. We felt sorry for these pale young men when they
struggled bravely with the weakness of the flesh and the greasy
plates.

We came down into the belt of calms where the sun gradually
baked the deck plating into a single mass of wrought iron and trans
formed the steel ship into a kind of hot water bottle. The black
tropical nights were a wholly unnatural compound of humid dark
ness and unbearable heat Polar expedition indeed!

We crossed the Equator on a day of blazing sun, and Captain
Guttorm played Father Neptune. Robin smeared our scorched bodies
\vith soot and oil, in sadistic zeal. Tor, the engineer, played the engine
hose on us with multiple atmospheric pressure. It was a watery day,
and each of the newly ducked was given Dr. Wilson s professional
certificate,

Cape Town was a parenthesis. A long one, too, on account of Christ
mas; for the South Africans celebrate Christmas with a full week of
festivity and freedom. We ran into this historic harbor late at night
on December 20. The city authorities even the customs officials-
gave us a friondly welcome, with kind offers of help,

On the whole, the members of the expedition really had a holiday
in Cape Town. But that cannot be said of the Royal Air Force unit
We had to have more space on deck, and the small plane crate was
ordered off. Consequently it was necessary to assemble the one plane
and place it on the roof of the large plane container* There was in fact
no other solution, if we were to find room for all the gasoline, po
tatoes, dried fruit and so on.

Christmas Eve was celebrated on Norsefa foredeck with music
and song t after a festive and substantial dinner of turkey* The harbor
districts got no sleep that night The official Bra-watchman and police*

42

From Oslo to the Scotia Sea

man were pulled on board with gentle violence, and it turned out
that the one was an expert on the accordion and the other on the
banjo.

On December 28 we took aboard fifteen tons of gasoline and kero-
sine. The drums were placed on deck and the authorities directed
us to the outer harbor.

I collided with Guttorm in the dark on the boat deck.

"Look here " he began.

* the ship is overloaded," I said.

"Come down with me and have a cup of coffee," NorseTs captain
said with a sigh. "We still have some room aboard in the masts and
the lifeboats and on the poopdeck."

"Just you wait!" I said.

"Very welll" Guttorm answered, and his eyes flashed. "No dogs
and whale meat in my cabin. That s definite!"

We steer due south with a light breeze in brilliant weather.
Norsel rides easily in a smooth swell from the west.

The three meteorologists King, Schumacher and Liljequist take
observations every three hours round the clock. Rogstad sends the
"mets" to Cape Town and receives the weather reports. Daily weather
charts are prepared, on the basis of reports from several factory
ships and others. So for three members, at any rate, "the expedition
has begun." They enter upon a routine which is not to be interrupted
for more than two years we hope.

At about noon on December 30 we cross the latitude of 40 south
and have now reached tihe dreaded belt of storms. The sky clouds
over and white foam begins to spray from the wave crests.

On New Year s Eve we are running before the wind in a northwest
gale and boisterous sea. Again and again the heavy seas break over
the stern and the vessel dances like a jitterbug. The water forces up
the floor boards in the plane container and spurts up over the plane.
The mounted plane keeps hopping up and down on the roof with
wings quivering. The temperature falls quite suddenly to 50F. For
nearly a whole day and night we lie to.

43

The White Desert

This is my forty-eighth birthday, but the circumstances by no
means encourage celebration of the day or the approach to a new
half century. I lie on the couch well wedged in, eat pineapple, and
read Sverclrap s orders and admonitions. It might be a good thing
to repeat some of them here, as they give a picture of what lay before
us. My orders were beautifully brief and military:

(a) Decide Norsel s route, particularly through the pack ice into
Queen Maud Land. Where the ship s safety is concerned, NorscPs
captain has final authority.

(b) Give directions on employment of planes. Final decisions rest
with the leader of the Il.A.F. group.

(c) Choice of a place for the winter base, paying special atten
tion to the safety of the party and to the requirements for local glaeio-
logical work and for sledging expeditions to the mountains in the in
terior.

(d) Responsibility for discharging the vessel and establishment of
the base.

(<?) Responsibility for the work at the base and for the co-opera
tion between the various groups* Final authority in all matters of
dispute.

(/) Arrangement of all journeys, and sanction of all operations
beyond a radius of five statute miles from the base.

(g) Supervision of all radio communications from the base, apart
from meteorological reports.

(A) Choice of second in command within a month from the land
ingto whom any one of the above mentioned responsibilities may be
delegated,

Of supreme importance to begin with, however, was this point in
the orders:

"The expedition will establish a winter station on the coast, whore
the iee conditions allow for this and where it can bo assumed that
the ice shelf is aground The station should preferably bo located
somewhere between 5 East of Greenwich and 15 West of Green-

44

From Oslo to the Scotia Sea

wich. The farther eastward in this sector it is placed, the better, but
the ice conditions are probably best at the western end."

This extract from the orders states the extent of and limits to my
responsibility and my authority. The instructions could hardly be
other than these for an entirely unscientific leader in charge of an ex
pedition pursuing such intricate scientific aims as those of N.B.S.A.E.

There I lay on the couch and speculated as to whether any leader
of any expedition had ever had a more difficult task and yet at the
same time such a fine set of young men to carry it through.

Then I took up Sverdrup s last express letter to Cape Town, in which
he summarized the difficulties that lay immediately ahead:

To find the whaler Thorshtfvdi and tranship the heavy material
out at sea. To penetrate through the ice belt into the coast. To find
an adequate landing place. To find a safe place for the station. To
transport three to four hundred tons of equipment in to the base in
record time. And after that two years!

"But," Sverdrup wrote, "I can really give you no piece of advice
save this: Solve the problems as they come along. Do not meet
trouble halfway. Everything will be all right/ "

In my diary that night I wrote: "Extraordinarily high sea. Hurri
cane force in the squalls. We tried to get going about eleven o clock at
night, but had to give it up. All is well, for Thorsh0udi is lying directly
south of us,"

So we thought!

The storm abated at the New Year, and 1950 began with a fresh
breeze from the northwestsubsiding swell and mist from two o clock
in the afternoon. Thorshfivdi gave her position as about 51 and 41.
That 51 meant southern latitude one naturally took for granted. But
a doubt arose as to whether 41 meant east or west. East was what we
had arranged; but Melleby reported that he had forty-seven dogs,
some of them sick, and that thirteen or fourteen new dogs could be
fetched from Grytviken in South Georgia!

On January 2, however, Captain Guttorm came with a telegram
which had a really explosive effect: Thorshflvdi was hove to in the
Seotia Sea halfway between South Georgia and the South Orkneys.
We had no choice. We must cross the Atlantic from South Africa to

45

The White Desert

South America in a ship that was laden to capacity, and we must
reckon with a head wind the whole way. This enormous detour of
about 3,000 nautical miles would cost us three precious weeks.

Whereupon the course was altered to southwest. Thorshfivdi re
ported a calm sea and splendid weather, but at first we went pitching
through one gale after another, all from west-northwest. Spirits in
general were in a direct ratio to the low pressure of the weather chart.

Yet another high sea washed over Norsel and drove stripes of rust
over her white superstructure. This was a matter of life $nd death and
an ordeal for an Arctic vessel. Albatrosses like ghostly apparitions es
corted us. Cape pigeons and blue petrels skimmed through the air
all round the ship, and flocks of penguins splashed like schools of
salmon in the waves. The temperature of air and sea fell to freezing
pointor nearly.

At this time Dr. Wilson began to take samples of our bloodearly
in the morning and on an empty stomach to test the sugar content
and the proportion of adrenin, red and white blood corpuscles and
the rest. This was the introduction to a more than two years* struggle
for our living blood. Doc did not win much popularity this way, al
though his thirst for blood was no greater than that of ten rather
hungry gnats.

We passed Bouvet Island on the morning of January 6 in a slight
gale and a heavy head sea a dome of ice with rims of jagged black
mountains under racing storm clouds* And here we met the first
icebergs. On January 7 we observed forty-six of these tall, flat levia
thans, and Schytt, with the field glasses, stood rooted to the spot on
deck. The next day we saw no ice.

The South Sandwich Islands on January 10 the two peaks on
Saunders Island in the south and Candlemas Island to the north
under a veil of mist, gossamer-gray like Japanese silk. Here volcanoes
both active and dead tower up like barbs from one of earth s darkest
ocean depths* But we must go far southward, and Nar$et hastens past
through the snow squalls at her top speed* We are heading for a
tryst which can assuredly settle the fate of the expedition, and we are
nearly there.

The Antarctic midsummer s sparkling hours of sunshine are

46

From Oslo to the Scotia Sea

changed within a night and day into hours of driving snow. We
catch a glimpse of whale catchers in the mist with whales in tow
astern. The Cape pigeons crowd round the ship. The sea grows
calmer. We speak over the radio telephone and make a rendezvous
with Captain Thorvald Hanson on Thor$h0vdi. We have reached
the Scotia Sea after a twelve-day crossing without disaster.

47

V
AN INTERLUDE IN THE SCOTIA SEA

ABOUT noon on January 12 we knew by the smell that the factory ship
could not be far off, and soon she was ploughing toward us out of the
mists of driving snow. We swung up under the giant on the lee side,
but quickly pulled across to windward. Our colleagues were waving
to us from the deck, and we could hear the dogs howling* Captain
Hansen came through on the telephone and told us that the trans
shipment was awaited half in joy and half in terror. That was easy to
understand!

We arranged a few details. The meteorologists, however, had
prophesied storm, and they were right. The transshipment had to be
postponed. But we made preparations to receive what must come. A
whale catcher drew alongside and hoisted aboard the mail from
Cape Town*

Now the next day was both a Friday and January 13. Besides, the
gale had stirred up such a turmoil of heavy sea that any attempt to
bring the ships together would have been unavailing. We moved
southward to see if we could find a tongue in the drift ice which might
serve to break the force of the waves. But we found only an ice edge
of granulated and sea washed pack ice. This was our first meeting
with the Antarctic pack ice. We followed the ice edge eastward. It
was a day of sparkling sunshineand warm by comparison,

The same may be said of our great day January 14* That morning
die TJiorshffvdi hove to in the lee of a massive iceberg; but even so the
ocean swell was heavy*

"Believe me/ said Guttorm, with an anxious glance ut the surging
waves, "we re in for it nowF

And sure enough, there was Captain Hanson on the loudspeaker:
"Come along, Norscl, come along! We re making an attempt" That
was all. But it meant much,

48

An Interlude in the Scotia Sea

It meant that now the moment had arrived which for months I had
awaited with anxiety and which during months to come was to pur
sue me in torturing nightmares, For a failure in transshipment of
heavy gear in such a swell might mean an end to the whole expedi
tion.

"Well?" said Guttorm.

We must try," I answered.

"All right, try we will."

With that Guttorm took over, and I was simply an onlooker.

A buoy boat came over to us, towing two dead fin whales. We fas
tened them along the port side with thick wires. They were to serve
as fenders between the factory ship and Norsel soft cushions to
absorb all the shocks of the rolling. Swarms of Cape pigeons were
picking the parasites off the carcases.

We maneuvered cautiously up toward the Thorsh0udi. We rolled
and pitched on the long high swell. The giant vessel bulked over us
like a mountain a majestic and veiy active volcano vomiting smoke
from two craters.

At the highest point of the superstructure on the factory ship stood
Captain Hanson smiling clown with complete unconcern at Guttorm
on Norsel s bridge. Guttorm was not smiling. Nor was I.

Mandus lianscn, the mate, appeared at the rail on the factory
ship s foredeck a four-scjuare toughened sea dog, a clenched fist
of resolute assurance and iron nerve. His orders were rapped out,
their sharp tones reaching us down below.

He called down to us: "Which package will you have first?"

"The boring machine!" Guttorm answered.

A few minutes later Schytt s two ton monster was swinging out
over Thor(iti0vdi 9 $ rail. There it was suspended from a thin wire
about thirty feet above us. But it was not hanging steady at all. The
heavy factory ship and the light Norsel did not by any means keep
in sk p, The former rolled slowly and sedately in the ground swell
the latter bobbed up and down with swift, nervous motion on the
surface waves. The whale fenders were jammed quite flat between
the ships. And Valter s machine was descending upon us. Norsel was
rising to meet it But Mandus Hanson slightly moved the top joint

49

The White Desert

of his right hand little finger, and a winch man invisible to us gave
one centimeter s twist to a lever. The crate roseand catastrophe was
averted.

Hansen moved a little finger at the exact moment when Norsel
began her downward tilt. The crate went down again a little more
swiftly. The orders were rapped out, and numbers of men hauled
at the clearing lines. Just before Norsel reached the bottom of the
wave trough, Hansen made a small movement, as if he were flattening
out a fly. The crate stood neatly planted on our foredeck, silky
smooth and without one bruise. Now came the three weasels. Their
delivery was by no means painless. Never have I seen a ship s deck
looking so cramped. This was pure precision shooting at a moving
target from a moving range. It was a piece of incredible harmony
between two superb mariners Hansen, of the Antarctic and Jakobsen
of the Arctic. It was seamanship of the highest order, almost impromp
tu yet matter-of-course efficiency the concentrated product of every
day work.

After that the rest of the equipment followed: weasel belts, pack
ing cases with spare parts and with dog-pemmican, then the forty-
seven dogs, who were lowered in steel cages* Next came all the
meat. About twenty tons in eleven-pound bundles came down lik
hail on the poor Norsel from stem to stern* There were such showers
of meat that the blood splashed all round us. We did need the meat,
but this way of dealing it out struck some of us as unusually violent
and overpowering after so many years of rationing,

Guttorm and I were hoisted aboard the factory ship in an outsize
basket. We plumped down on Thorsh$vd$ hard iron deck and
peered out of the basket. Hera Mandus Hansen met us with a ter
rific handshake and a smile of relief. But there were beads of sweat
on his bronzed forehead still
"UghP he groaned, Tm glad that s overP
**Yes, damn itl It was a nasty job/* Guttorm answered.
When Guttorm and 1 finally soared aloft again in our basket be
tween Thor$h$vdi and Norsel, he said:

"Just one question, John* Cast your eye down over my ship. Is she
fully laden now?*

50

An Interlude in the Scotia Sea

I looked down at a vessel that was buried tinder equipment and
gory meat, on top of which human beings crawled about and dogs
were barking. On the afterdeck I could just see the outlines of a plane.
And I had to admit that Norsel now was loaded to sinking point.

The whale catcher Tharfinn came over and fetched our "fenders."
The two whale carcases were not much knocked about, but the Cape
pigeons protested in unison at the rubbing away of all the parasites.

Norsel waddled off, loaded up like a bus in the rush hour. We sent
our thanks and good-bys in three blasts of the siren. Thorsh0vdi gave
her phlegmatic reply in an oil drenched bass. Out on the horizon
catchers were arriving with whales in tow. We saw the plumes of
steam when they hailed us with good wishes; but we heard no sound.

Mate Mandus Hansen was standing on the factory ship s foredeck
and waving both his arms with motions that might have sunk a
battleship.

Nils Roer the surveyor was up to his knees in a heap of whale meat
on the roof of Walford s plane crate, hurling the heavy bundles
straight over the plane.

He called out: "Now this expedition is beginning at last!" whereas
it seemed to me that it had begun long ages before.

Next I went off to welcome the expedition members who had been
delivered by winch from ThorshfivdiAlsm Reece and Charles
Swithmbank (both unrecognizable in beards), Peter Melleby, Bertil
Ekstrom, Schj01berg Nilsen and forty-seven barking dogs.

"Knalle" Ekstrom took off his cap with Swedish politeness: "How
do, Captain," he said, "damned if it doesn t smell just as fiendishly
strong wherever one goes in these southern parts! Live dogs and
rotting whales! Phew!"

"That will soon improve, Ekstrom," I answered. "How are the
weasels?"

"Well, they don t smell. But they re red with rust, and goodness
knows if there s any life left in them. And by the way, my name is
Ekstrom right enough, but Knalle is what they call me. And where s
one to park oneself in this little tub?"

That was soon settled. And at half -past six in the evening Norsel
was steaming south westward towards Queen Maud Land*

51

VI
QUEEN MAUD LAND

HERE I must give a concise geographical account and a historical sur
vey of the portion of Antarctica where the Norwegian-British-Swedish
Antarctic Expedition was to look for its area of operation. Not very
much was known about the physical conditions there even as recently
as 1949, and up to 1930 practically nothing was known of the "land"
itself.

Queen Maud Land consists of the stretch of Antarctic mainland
between the much disputed Falkland Islands Dependencies in the
west (20 west) and the Australian Antarctic Territory in the east
(45 east),

In the seas off the coast of Queen Maud Land, as, for instance, off
east Greenland, there is a belt of pack ice. As everywhere else in polar
areas, this belt of pack ice is at its broadest (and partially frozen
together) late in the winter, and it may extend northwards to about
sixty-five degrees of latitude. In summer and autumn this belt of
pack ice is much narrower, that is to say, the ice edge lies farther to
the south. Even in these areas one talks of good and of difficult ice
years. During certain summers it is possible to sail close up to the ice
front in February-March without any appreciable hindrance from
the ice. In other summers the belt of pack ice may be broad, compact
and impenetrable.

Off Queen Maud Land there is qtiitc a strong westerly current
which carries the drifting ice along the coast and westward out into
the wide Wcddell Sea. As to the force and direction of the current
west of the Greenwich meridian, however, our knowledge is limited
to vague general principles,

We were aware of the fact that the current curves towards th
south and southwest into the Wedclcll Sea, carrying the belt of pack
ice with it along Crown Princess Martha Coast. We knew, more"-

52

Queen Maud Land

over, that the movement of ice sheered off again northwestward
and northward along the coast of Graham Land in the western part
of the Weddell Sea. This northerly movement draws the huge masses
of pack ice from the Weddell Sea out into the ocean, where in the
Scotia Sea they meet eastward-moving ice masses. The ocean cur
rents then draw all this ice eastward in a vast "tongue," which in the
summer months may extend from the northern tip of Graham Land in
a curve past the South Orkney and South Sandwich Islands and
farther east right on to something like 30 east and 55 south. But the
extent of this tongue of pack ice alters considerably from year to year.
Between this north- and eastward-moving tongue of pack ice from
the Weddell Sea and the westward-moving pack ice close off the
mainland, there exists in some years during the summer a broad
stretch of open sea-like a huge bay with an opening from the east
all the way in to longitude 30 west or even farther. In other summers
the pack ice runs in an unbroken stretch from the ice front and far
north into the ocean.

This coast is called land, as we know; but in reality it is chiefly
composed of nothing but floating ice and firm, solid, compressed
snow.

Even today Queen Maud Land s ice coast is known and mapped
only in broad outline. Generally speaking, one may say that the
coast itself consists partly of projecting areas of the inland ice which
rest on a sxibstratum of land, and partly of so-called ice shelf with an
ice front up to nearly a hundred feet high. The ice shelves consist of
flat stretches, often miles wide, of n6v6 and ice, which are found
all around the south polar ice sheet. The shelf is formed from inland
ice which over a very long period is pressed out into the sea and re
mains there like "shelves" of ice, usually floating. For an expedition
lasting more than one winter, like the Norwegian-British-Swedish
Antarctic Expedition, it is of the utmost importance to take note of
the fact that where an ice shelf is most actively moving outward
it happens most frequently that large areas break loose and drift out
to sea.

Before we left I received several warnings against setting up the
expedition base too near the edge of an ice shelf, as had happened in

53

The White Desert

the case of Filchner s Deutschland expedition. But "Framheim" and
"Little America" were at suitably selected points on ice shelves. In
the Antarctic one can seldom choose the ideal site.

Inland from the ice shelf the ice ascends southward. In Queen
Maud Land it is only at a distance of from 100 to 200 miles in from
the sea that the first real land occurs, where none save the topmost
peaks of a mountain range up to 13,000 feet high pierce the ice sheet
between about 30 east and 15 west

This was what we knew in 1949 of the geographical conditions in
and near Queen Maud Land,

The history of the region may be summarized as follows:

On January 17, 1773, the Englishman James Cook crossed the
Antarctic Circle with the ships Resolution and Adventure^ and later
the same day he was compelled by continuous ice to turn back at 67
15 south and 39 35 east. Until that time no one had ever been so
far south. This happened in the sea to the north of the present Prince
Harald Coast.

On his famous expedition of 1819-21 the Russian Thaddeus Bel
lingshausen penetrated close to the coast of Queen Maud Land in
several places. On January 28, 1820, he was at 69 17 south, 2 46
west, and observed "a solid stretch of ice running from east through
south to west" This was off Crown Princess Martha Coast Five days
later Bellingshausen s position was 69 25 south, 1 11 wast, and he
was then perhaps about thirty miles from the coast

It is possible that on February 17 of the same year Bellingshausen
saw the ice front. He states: "Its edge was perpendicular and formed
coves, whilst the surface sloped upwards towards the south to a dis
tance so far that its end was out of sight from the masthead/ He
was then about fifty miles off Princess Astrid Coast Visibility was
poor. The next day Bellingshausen s position was 89 06 south, 15
52 east; and he observes; "In the farther distance we saw ice-covered
mountains similar to those mentioned above and probably forming
a continuation of them/ 1

It seems remarkable that Bellingshausen, beyond what has been
quoted above, made no claim to have discovered land, Bellingshausen
presumably did not look upon an Ice shelf as land,

54

Queen Maud Land

Here it should also be mentioned that the Englishman James Wed-
dell on his expedition in 1822-24 penetrated as far south as the Wed-
dell Sea, the position 74 15 south, 34 IT west; but he never came
near the coast of Queen Maud Land.

The Englishman Sir James Clark Ross in 1839-43 sailed around
the Antarctic continent. In 1843, he went into the Weddell Sea and
was beset in the pack ice on January 9 at about 64 44 south, 56 53
west. On February 4 the ships worked free at 64 south, 54 west.
Ross then went southward along the ice edge and reported "the
appearance of land several times; after crossing 20 west, southeast
erly progress was made. ..."

In 1845 the Englishman T. E. L. Moore in the Pagoda was as far
south as 67 50 south, 39 41 east (north of Prince Harald Coast);
but he did not see the coast.

More than half a century later the Scottish National Antarctic
Expedition in the Scotia, led by W. S. Bruce, penetrated to the
Weddell Sea and discovered Coats Land. The northeastern part of
Bruce s discoveries lie within the area which afterwards became
Queen Maud Land.

One is forced to conclude that the earliest explorers must have been
favored with particularly good ice conditions, when with their com
paratively frail vessels they ventured and actually managed to go so
far south in these waters, which in my opinion are most formidable.
When, more than a hundred years later, one has oneself traversed
areas of the same frozen sea in a modern motor-powered steel ship,
one must take off one s hat to these pioneers in deep respect for their
exploits. It is a definite fact, too, that we in the Norsel in 1950 ended
by following Sir James Clark Ross route of 1843 into the Weddell Sea
and reached our goal.

It was not until 1929 that a ship again penetrated to this coast.
In the little sealer Norvegia, ( on Lars Christensen s third Norvegia
expedition), Captain Finn Lutzow-Holm sighted Enderby Land
(the most westerly part of the present Australian sector). On Janu
ary 15 and 16, 1930, he flew over new territory. He called it Dron-
ning Maud Land-Queen Maud Land. This is, by the way, the most
easterly part of the present Queen Maud Land. The airmen saw

55

The White Desert

mountain formations in the south and a great area of ice shelf. The
coast was sketched, as well as this could be done from tine small
aircraft, between approximately 55 and 43 east.

These flights marked the beginning of a series of discoveries on
the Antarctic mainland from Enderby Land in the east to Coats Land
in the west. Only one month later the skipper of the Norvegia, Cap
tain Nils Larson, saw Crown Princess Martha Coast.

This discovery of Cape Norvegia occurred on February 18, 1930.
What happened afterwards on the third Norvegia expedition was to
be important in its implications for our expedition in 1950. The vessel
sailed in through scattered ice floes toward the ice front about sixty-
five feet high, which here ran, roughly speaking, north to south. At
71 26 south, 11 31 west, approximately 150 yards from the coast,
a sounding of ninety fathoms was taken.

The weather was uncertain, with low cloud and poor visibility.
Riiscr-Larsen and Lut/.ow-IIolm flew southward as fur as 71 50
south, 11 25 west, making sketch maps and taking photographs as
they went. The ridge over Cape Norvegia was estimated to bo 1,150
feet high, but the clouds hid the land behind. On the way clown the
aircraft saw in Selbukta an ice front running southward which had
a low edge*

The low cloud finally forced the airmen to return to the ship. Con
ditions looked better to east-northeast and they then flow along the
ice front to about 8 west* The iee front northeast of Cape Norvegia
was so level and flat that one could safely assume it was a floating ice
shelf. No snow-free mountains were observed; but it could be seen
that the ice down in the south sloped upwards under the cloud
canopy.

The same afternoon Norvcgia went southward and into Selbukta*
The bay was open, but there was some drifting ice*

"Here I think would be a good position for a winter camp/* writes
Riiser-Larsen. Ho also notes that there was a series of icebergs which
had gone aground off Cape Norvegia.

Next day, February 19, Riiser-Larsen went southward to see if he
could find the connection between the newly discovered territory and
Coats Land. The weather was bad. The southwest wind during the

56

Queen Maud Land

night had pushed the pack ice off Cape Norvegia and into Selbukta.

And now Riiser-Larsen writes: < As already mentioned, there is
certainly harbor here for a winter camp (in Selbukta); but there is
a big c buf about the harbor the fact that it is probably not open
every year."

That the assumption of this polar veteran was quite correct, we
found out ourselves in 1950. It was precisely these observations that
led to the successful establishment of Maudheim.

Riiser-Larsen s account showed me at least what one might expect
in the way of storms off Crown Princess Martha Coast, and the Gen
eral s experiences were obviously of vital significance for my own
preparations and organization in 1950.

The discoveries along the coast of Queen Maud Land went on
meanwhile from year to year. On January 23, 1931, Captain H. Hal-
vorsen in the factory ship New Sevilla discovered Princess Astrid
Coast (see map) and in the same month Otto Borchgrevinck in the
Antarctic discovered new land behind what was later Crown Piince
Olav Coast

On the fourth Norvegia expedition Riiser-Larsen and Nils Larsen
flew over new, unknown stretches of coast and these were named
Princess Ragnhild Land (now Princess Ragnhild Coast). This coast
was observed the same year by Norwegian whale catchers.

On Consul Lars Christensen s highly successful expedition of 1936-
37 in the tanker Thorshavn, Viggo Wider0e (on February 4, 1937),
with Mrs. Ingrid Christensen as observer, flew over new land, and the
Norwegian flag was dropped from the aircraft at 69 30 south, 38
east, A mountain range was discovered to the southwest. On the fol
lowing day they again flew over the land and took photographs from
40 to 34 east. It could be seen that the mountain range extended at
least 185 miles westwards from about 71 30 south, 20 east, with
summits up to 10,000 feet high. It was assumed that these mountains
were part of a vast chain running along the edge of the Antarctic
plateau. The new land was named Prince Harald Land (now
"Coast"), and the air photographs are the basis of the maps which
were later prepared by Captain E. Hanscn.

Thus it was Lars Christcnscn s expedition that in 1937 discovered

57

The White Desert

the extensive mountain range in the northeastern part of Queen
Maud Land. This was then mapped from the air, as far as about 12
west, by the German Schwabenland expedition in 1939, and the Ger
man maps were again of vital importance for our own expedition.

At this point it is necessary to state that the Norwegian Govern
ment, by royal decree of January 14, 1939, passed the following
resolution:

"That part of the mainland coast in the Antarctic extending from
the limits of the Falkland Islands Dependencies in the west (the
boundary of Coats Land) to the limits of the Australian Antarctic
Territory in the east (45 east long.), with the land lying within
this coast and the environing sea, shall be brought under Norwegian
sovereignty."

The annexed territory received the name of Queen Maud Land,

This Norwegian annexation had, as we see, only one definitely
named boundary on the east.

After an exchange of notes, Great Britain and Norway on October
30, 1939 agreed to place the western boundary of Queen Maud
Land at 20 west

The said boundaries to east and west are fixed by mutual consent
of the British Commonwealth and Norway. Presumably, however,
there are several other powers who share an interest in the region.

Germany during the thirties had begun whaling in the Antarctic
and was interested in making this activity secure through annexation
of some portion of the Antarctic continent, The German Antarctic
Expedition, 1938-39, under the leadership of the German polar ex
plorer and airman, Alfred Ritscher, left Hamburg in December 1938
in the motor-catapult ship Schwahenland* The expedition was lavishly
equipped and among other things carried two ten ton Dornier-Wal
seaplanes, specially fitted for air survey operations.

The Germans succeeded in keeping this expedition a secret until,
on March 9, 1939, an official announcement was made that it had
discovered and surveyed 135,000 square miles in Antarctica, and
mapped the area from aircraft* In addition, comprehensive scientific
researches had been undertaken* The Swastika had been dropped on
a series of points within the area previously marked as "unexplored/*

58

Queen Maud Land

The area surveyed lay between about 22 east and 12 west; that
is to say, in the middle of the Norwegian land. It was named "New
Schwabenland." The first flight inland was made on January 20 six
days after the Norwegian annexation. No German claims for annexa
tion were advanced. The Germans at this period, to be sure, had more
obvious annexations to look after, and certainly counted on being
able to settle the matter after the war.

The results of the Schwabenland expedition have met with recogni
tion in scientific circles. As already mentioned, the German maps in
particular were of great importance for our expedition even though
eventually they were to prove rather inaccurate in those districts
where our people carried on their work. But the German air maps
were, of course, constructed without the ground control that must be
available for any practical air survey. Most of the Schwabenland
expedition s photographic material was unfortunately destroyed dur
ing the war. We must unreservedly acknowledge the merit of the
work carried out by the German explorers.

The 1946-47 U.S. Navy Antarctic Expedition ("Operation High
Jump"), led by Admirals Cruzen and Byrd, among other things
made flights over Queen Maud Land. This colossal summer expedi
tion operated all round the Antarctic mainland. It was, above all,
military in character, and reports of the results achieved up to the
presenthave naturally enough been very scanty.

Here it should be mentioned that the United States has made no
annexations in the Antarctic. Nor does the United States acknowledge
any annexation made by other countries. It reserves to itself,
however, all rights to make claims in regions where American citi
zens have carried out explorations.

And now this brief historical and geographical survey has arrived
at the Norwegian-British-Swedish Antarctic Expedition of 1949-52.

There are not many white spots left on the map of the world.
Many of us therefore imagine that we have been born at least a
century too late. But Queen Maud Land is in a twofold sense a white
spot on the map, Here, then, a task remained for us, even if we could
only manage to color over one little bit of the spot.

59

VII
TOIL AND TROUBLE IN THE PACK ICE

Norsel set out on her maiden voyage like a lively young filly, buoyant
and gay, fresh in her coat of gleaming white. Now she is more piti
lessly overladen than a donkey of Arabia and she lumbers along with
the heavy motions of a sow. For that matter, she is just as dirty too
and smells even worse*

It is true that an expedition ship must be loaded down; but our
ship was loaded to the gunwales. On every square ineh of all the
deeks from stem to stern, stores and equipment were crowded to
gether, sometimes in several layers and in high piles. On top of all
this was a thick, even layer of sticky meat. And dags were tethered in
every place where it was possible to put a dog. We waded in meat
and dogs.

Captain Guttorm was given orders to sail south to the ice edge
and to follow it eastward. As I have said earlier, my orders were that
in the first instance we should try to land as far east as about 5.
The distance from the ice front in to the mountains in the south is
much less there, and the concentrated mountain masses in the cast
provide far better working conditions for gUioiologists and geologists
than the more scattered heights farther wast

All the same I was not keen on the idea of landing east of the Green
wich meridian* It was true that we know very little indeed about the
ice conditions along the coast. But we did know that there should be
a westerly movement of ice close inshore, westward and southward
down into the Weddcll Sea. In theory at least this should mean that
tihe pnck ice must be more open west of 5 west where the coast turns
southward. But, of course, one never knew. Besides, it is one thing
to force one s way into a spot on the coast in a year when perhaps ice

CO

Toil and Trouble in the Pack Ice

conditions are good but a very different matter to get out again two
years later.

For a few days we went chiefly southeast and east into a head sea,
so that the spray washed the foredeck tarpaulins quite clean. The
weather was still and cloudy. All the time we had a "feeling" of the
ice edge down in the south. The ice edge that summer, with bights
and tongues, stretched from about latitude 61 south at approximately
32 west down to latitude 68 58 south at about 5 east. Wherever
within this range we came close to the ice edge, the pack ice
was still close-packed and without leads as far as we could see to
the south.

On January 17 one of the whale catchers from the factory ship
Sir James Clark Ross came down on a long detour to wish us good
luck. We saw quite a number of whales and reported them over the
radio to Ross.

In the strips of pack ice we found some seals here and there, Crab-
eaters and Leopard seals. In spite of all our whale meat we needed
still more dog food, and in any case it is almost "going against nature"
to sail past a seal on a floe. We shot the seals that were anywhere on
our course, and on the afterdeck the crew gave the wintering party
some necessary instruction in skinning. Most of the seals had horrible
sores and scars, probably from the teeth of Leopard seals.

The penguins set their stamp on the picture. These little gentlemen
in court dress meet us with dignified curiosity. They stand on their
ice floes like solemn policemen waving on the traffic. One of them
is taken aboard for more intimate acquaintance; but he is hoisted
overboard again as a result of improper behavior and overenthusias-
tic use of his beak. Sometimes we have roast penguin for dinner, but
we prefer the succulent whale steaks from Thorshfivdi. These are so
delicious that we passengers very often prepare nocturnal feasts,

Otherwise the days go on their rolling course over the slow swell.
The meteorologists take their observations and plot the weather
chart. Liljoquist and his assistants keep up the bird log and during
this time have noted down twenty-six species. We arrange a round-
the-cloek ice watch, to record amount of ice, thickness and type of
floes and so on.

61

The White Desert

The Antarctic Circle was crossed at 9:30 p.m. on January 20, and
yet another party was held this time without water.

On the morning of January 19 we had reached 65 52 south, in ap
proximately 14 west. The ice edge was very tightly packed. During
the days that followed we attempted several times to penetrate south
ward, while we headed in an easterly direction. Each time we felt
the same tense anxiety about our chances of coming straight through
to the coast. Each time just as unfailingly we were blocked by this
extraordinary ice. A compressed layer of tough, deep, sticky dough,
thick sludge with rotten, low ice floes, it ran along in a belt 100
nautical miles in width from the coast, a wet cement-like mass. The
sludge clung to the hull and stopped the intake of cooling water to
the ship s engines. The propeller churned helplessly in the choppy
thickness. We tried many times and in many places all in vain. There
were often moments when we believed we could see the ice front
to the south, and I thought of Bellingshausen.

Thursday, January 24. Position at noon 68 58 south, 4 58 east.
In the south a blue water sky catches a reflection from below. We
plough on with engines at full power. Often we are nipped fast It
is fine, calm weather with a radiant intensity of light. This is to be
the last attempt east of the Greenwich meridian. At four o clock in
the afternoon, however, the ice closes and we must give in for the
present.

But we do not give in easily. And we know a little of the strange
caprices of the pack ice. Make a landing preferably east of the Green
wich meridian, said our instructions* The ice edge looked open east
ward. We must make one more attempt. Position at noon on January
25: approximately 69 south, 6 east Stop at 8:15 p.m. Dead calm in
the evening with wonderful sunset. We caught a glimpse of the Ice
front and perhaps mountains under the low cloud to the south.

For most of the next clay we were at a standstill in the pack ice,
though trying to squeeze out sideways slightly to the southwest. The
westerly drift was only at about half a knot* Day temperature 30.5 F*
and at night down to 19,5 F.

Now 1 began to feel pretty desperate. Perhaps we were stuck here
with the ship for good and all* The sludge was frozen stiff all around

62

Toil and Trouble in the Pack Ice

us. Here and there the surface cracked and whales played about in
the black leads. The day after it snowed. Still we lay there unable to
move. And the next day we tried in vain to head northwestward.
Position at noon the day following 69 05 south. And there we were
still.

"We ll have to give in!" I said to Guttorm.

"Well," he frowned, "we re stuck here sure enough. 7 *

"Let s hope for a break, then we can head out westward."

But it did not happen that day either. At least twice we had cer
tainly seen the promised land.

We saw several Ross seals and shot one of them. As far as one
could learn from the sources available, up to then only about fifty
examples of this breed had been observed.

On the last day of January, we shot three Ross seals and saw ten
more. Moreover, we pushed our way out to the open sea at 68 28
south, 35 east. The ice belt had widened by fully ten nautical
miles within a week.

Walford fitted the floats on one of the planes. At 6:45 that evening
we sailed westward along the ice edge in a calm sea*

It was with slightly anxious feelings that I tore the January leaf off
the calendar. I suppose it is true that January here in the south only
corresponds to July up north, but the difference is otherwise unmis
takable. The Antarctic is considerably colder than the Arctic; and
in the matter of weather conditions one may say that January in the
south, comparatively speaking, corresponds to a northern November
in the same latitude.

We had to go down into the Weddell Sea, General Riiser-Larsen
had given us timely warning "Beware of the Weddell Sea!"

This huge gulf was ( and still is ) a rather unknown region. What we
knew about it was in any case not very encouraging. In the course of
more than a century, the expeditions that made their way south into
this sea were extremely few. Two of them were held fast in the ice.
The German expedition under W. Filchner in 1910-12 in the Deutsch-
land drifted in the pack ice for nine months. Shackleton in 1914-16

63

The White Desert

was drifting with the Endurance for ten months and finally the ship
was sunk by ice pressure. Norsel, however, a 600-ton icebreaker built
of steel, with her 1,200 horsepower, should have great advantages.
And yet we do know that where the ice becomes difficult there is
little help to be had from horsepower*

Anyhow, I concluded that we must try to push forward where our
predecessors had succeeded in doing so. I thought we should have
to begin the attempts at the eastern end, working westward. But we
still had fresh in mind the thought of the unbroken, tight-packed ice
edge wo had followed hero on the way down from meeting Thorshtfv-
dL Things did not look too promising.

On February I , we went westward along the coast in fine weather
with light clouds and a slight breeze from the southeast- At about
latitude 5 west, about 661 south, I asked Walforcl to make a re
connaissance flight to the south and west.

This affair of an Austcr plane on floats was something of an ex
periment, one that had never been tried before, and it would be put
ting the case mildly to say that I was anxious* What Brian Walford
felt I could not .see from his looks, at any rate. It took a bare half hour
to get the plane on the water and the whole operation lasted three
hours* Brian reported, among other tilings, packed ice without leads
to the south* Now wo know that Farther westward it was to be,
then. Position at 6 p.m.: 66 54 south, 5 40 west.

February 2 brought the solution. Flight Lieutenant Tudor took off
that morning with Captain Jakobsen as observer and flew duo south
from 67 SO 7 south, 12 22 west* After a flight of thirty-two nautical
miles they reported open pack ice for as far as they could see.

Norsel moved in through the ice to south and southwest in such
open pack that we were able, generally speaking, to set a course
toward Cape Norvegla, The ice floes ware so rotten at first that the
bow could plough straight through them. But about midnight we
met heavier pack ice, old and rafted. I asked Guttorm to bear west
ward as much as possible.

The weather helped us. During the night and the next day, Febru
ary 3, there was a fresh breeze from the southeast with a clear sky.
Since noon we had seen from an observed position, 70 03 south, 13

64

_ ... , . MAUDHEIM ro

Ope Norv&gh } C

Tracks of the Norsel on the three voyages to Queen Maud Land

The White Desert

10 west, a curious pink "cloud" low on the horizon down in the
southeast. We discussed whether it was a bank of cloud or if it could
be Riiser-Larsen s Cape Norvegia looming there. At 7:43 the same
evening the whole thing was clear. Schumacher shouted: "Land
aheadl And open water the whole way in."

Two hours later we were lying on a sea smooth and clear as a
mirror, close up to a high ice front off tine cape. Before midnight Wai-
ford took off and flew down over Selbukta. I was particularly anxious
to have his report, for it was just there that Riiser-Larsen had indi
cated a post where a good site with low ice front might be found for
a winter base.

Walford reported, however, that the northern part of the bay was
white and unbroken. His radio messages, by the way, were highly
poetical, a thing one can readily understand.

"I am flying over Cape Norvegia. To the south I can see nothing but
ice over Selbukta for many miles in, I am going northeast. Tell those
concerned that there are scattered floes of pack ice along the front that
way. This is a marvellous sight Vast tracts of immaculate ice. It is in
credibly beautiful. Anyone who has seen this has seen something
worth living for,"

That night we lay to in an open pool close up to the ice dome of
Cape Norvegia* WalorcTs report on the northernmost part of Sel
bukta was not so encouraging, and he had seen open sea in the north
east Later I reproached myself for not having first had the coast to
southward inspected by Hugh Tudor. But the temptation to make a
reconnaissance toward the open water to the northeast was too
strong; and during the forenoon of February 4 I asked Walford to
send Tudor for a run in that direction,

In the course of an hour s flying Hugh had told of three low inlets
in the ice front with possibilities for landing. It was too tempting not
to examine these possibilities first With comparatively open sea along
the ice edge it should not take so very long. At least so I thought,

At the first place, just north of Cape Norvegia, there was a low,
narrow ledge by the sea, but the slope beyond was much too steep
for loaded weasels. The depth of sea there was approximately thirty
fathoms* We continued to sail on towards the northeast,

06

Toil and Trouble in the Pack Ice

Here for the first time we met thick and hard old polar pack ice.
It lay like a belt four to five nautical miles in width along the coast.
The ice front, about 100 feet high, stretched in an unbroken line
southeast; yet I was still convinced that there must be many oppor
tunities available on so long a coast.

The ice shelf was flatter toward the northeast and the depth of
sea was greater. We were now going along past a floating ice shelf.
This tallied, by the way, with Riiser-Larson s observations in 1930.
On board we had a lively discussion as to whether we ought if possible
to land and set up the wintering base on a "floating ice shelf ; but
we were not unanimous in that view. There is always a possibility, of
course, that great stretches of ice shelf may break loose and drift away
as icebergs. The thought that we might eventually sail into the
Weddell Sea on top of an iceberg was not entirely pleasing.

As we followed the coast northeastward, at some distance from
it, we came to think that the chances of finding a landing place were
small.

Flight Lieutenant Tudor s last inlet looked promising to begin
with. Through quite open water we went straight into an apparently
ideal quay. The "valley" which he described dropped gently down
to an ice front ten feet high. But then we saw the crevasses going
inward right across the "valley". We went out again and I asked
Waif or d to let me go up in one of the planes.

Tudor flew me across the area. Being a passenger in an Auster plane
is like going skyward in a strait jacket. Meanwhile I was coming
to the conclusion that the crevasses in the "valley" would make weasel
transport immensely difficult Besides, it looked as though the "valley"
was simply one enormous crevasse, where a part of the ice shelf was
about to break away. It might take years, for all I knew or a week.

In the northeast the clouds were hanging low, but beneath them I
could see a large bay running towards the southeast. Here and there
patches of blue sea showed as though in a mirage.

I was most reluctant, however, to set up the station inside a bay.
For there the pack ice would be only too apt to tighten up and lie
still and close packed inshore. Time was to show how lucky it was
that we did not go farther northward into the bay.

67

The White Desert

We had by now gone around roughly the whole coast down here.
I decided to go back to Selbukta and from that point comb the whole
ice front in a northeasterly direction. The plan was to keep Norsel
in open water outside the pack ice belt along the coast, send the air
craft landward at certain intervals and take the ship in to make a
closer scrutiny wherever the plane discovered any possibilities.

On February 5 we again lay off Cape Norvegia. I should mention
that we had long ago organized a relief party on board in case the
plane should make a forced landing on the ice shelf. This party was
composed of those presumed to be our best skiers, together with
picked dogs, a sledge in full readiness, and the necessary equipment.

It was on this day that Captain Guttorm declared he would not
begin unloading anywhere on this coast without having protection
from the pack ice. I could not blame him. He knew more than I did
about the safety of the ship and ourselves.

On Monday, February 6, at 11:30 a.m. Walford again flew down
over Selbukta. His report was. "First more open pack ice, then tighter
pack in the southeast and west towards the bay." On Selbukta itself
he reported: "I would call it a continuous plain of ice with cracks in
it, but without water between the floes. The ice conditions are no
better for as far as I can see to the southwest and south/

After this I gave the order to begin "fine-combing" the coast north
eastward. This decision was by no means popular. The inexperienced
are not in a position to assess such a situation. But he who knows
least is always the most sure. Besides, it was fairly late in the summer
now. I had a message from Sverdrup that a landing place ought to
be found within a week. The excitement had been so constant that
excitement itself became monotonous. The pessimists began to talk
of a return to Cape Town. And then too, unfortunately, we began to
have a strong breeze from the east with driving snow.

The idea behind our plan was that when we had finally landed we
should move all the equipment farther back on to safe ice. Then the
vessel could go home. We were to live in two large Swedish Army
tents and sledge the equipment ( 300-400 tons ) farther inland to build
our wintering station. But as the quantity of equipment grew I began,
even before our departure, to have doubts as to whether the plan was

Toil and Trouble in the Pack Ice

a good one. And as the days passed and the period when storms
were likely drew nearer, I grew more and more anxious about the
whole affair.

It is one thing to get the heavy equipment placed direct on the
weasel sledges with the ship s winch and then drive the loads right
on to the base. But to accomplish all the loading by hand is quite
another matter.

I am bound to go into this point in some detail, as it is tremendously
important. One must, after all, learn from the experiences of one s
predecessors. And the short history of the Antarctic tells in plain
words and forceful pictures what may happen during a landing
the grueling exertions of the Shackleton expedition, the hardships
endured by Nordenskjold, Mawson s strenuous contest with the
storms, the Byrd expedition s inhuman struggle, and Riiser-Larsen s
disappointing luck. Yet all these expeditions had far less equipment
than ours in proportion to the number of men.

To find a landing place began to be quite a harassing problem;
but it was really a nightmare to think of what might happen after the
disembarkation so late in the season. Let us say, for instance, if half
way through the process of transportation and building we got a
hurricane such as Riiser-Larsen went through here in February
19301 The material buried under abysmal depths of drifted snow;
the light packages and house boarding literally carried away by the
wind; at best merely negative work for all the men during many
months but most probably a catastrophe.

To obviate this I got Captain Guttorm Jakobsen to promise that
Norsel should stay with us until all the equipment had been driven
right up to the station site and until the two houses had been roofed
over. In addition, the ship s crew were to help us both with the
transport and the building of the houses. Sverdrup at once sanc
tioned this arrangement. It was also a very considerable advantage
that the wintering party could sleep and eat on board during the
period of strenuous effort,

Well this time we were indeed lucky in every way quite incred
ibly lucky* We had a calm, fine autumn. Some shrugged their shoul
ders at my exaggerated caution, and some criticized my delaying of

69

The White Desert

the ship in these dangerous seas without good reason. But it was a
matter of luck that things went so well as they did.

Guttorm Jakobsen and his crew, at all events, deserve unqualified
thanks from the expedition for their help and for the way they took
chances in order to lighten the burden and lessen the riskfor us.

On February 10 we were still being buffeted in close pack ice, the
air around us thick with driving snow, north of Cape Norvegia, We
struggled out into a wide lead of quite open water. The snow squalls
came and went. When they eased off we sighted an inlet in the ice
front just beside a high projecting point I myself, to be honest, did
not think that the steep little sag in there gave promise of an adequate
landing place, and, besides, it was fully exposed to weather and
pack ice. Between us and the coast the ice now lay in tight patches.
Others believed we had a chance here and it certainly ought to be
explored.

It was not by any means flying weather; but at a quarter past ten
we lowered the Auster onto the water to have her ready for taking off
at short notice in a lull. Walford ordered "action stations" and the
crew were on the spot. Tudor in all his fur kit was ready on the after-
deck.

There was a vary low overcast sky. The snow showers swept along
the ice front like puffs of dark smoke* At noon things looked quite
hopeless. For four days and nights we had been stuck at more or less
the same spot, and for all I knew there might wall be some easily
accessible landing places just to the east of us. I gave the weather one
hour more; then at 12:55 Hugh flew inland, low above the pack ice, So
narrowly may a man miss taking a false step,

Never shall I forget Hugh s voice, metallic through the microphone.
It penetrated to the little group that stood shivering on the wheel
house roof* First we were told that there was a stretch of open sea
along the ice front,

"I am now over a bay/ said Tudor* "High ice front on both sides.
Visibility better. Do you hear me, Norseffl*

w Five-by-five. Go on, Hugh,** Walford answered*

Then it came-excitedly: "I can see a spot in here The ice front
looks very low, and there is a slope rising slowly up towards a vast

70

Toil and Trouble in the Pack Ice

area of flat ice to the south. I would like to take Captain Giaever up to
have a look at it. This just may be IT."

"Very good, indeed!" came from Walford, with a touch of triumph
in the tone. "Come right back. Captain Giaever is ready." Hugh re
turned. The plane wobbled like a fly tossed by the wind. Norsel
worked her way out into the open lead to the coast. Directly after
wards we were airborne.

The spot was not only good enough. It was altogether ideal the
perfect fulfilment of my brightest hopes and dreams, a quay of exact
ly the right height, near a nice little sheltered bay just inside the
entrance to the inlet. A gentle slope upwards to the ice shelf without
any visible crevasses. We flew inland. Through the canopy of snow
I could see that this slope was really a kind of rounded valley with
a sheer wall of ice at its southern end. Along the wall there was an
open fissure that turned southeastward and disappeared about half
a mile inland on the ice shelf. On we flew, dodging shower after
shower over a wide and unbroken expanse of snow.

Indeed, we could not expect to find a better spot than this. Walford
took Robin up for further observation and he agreed with us. Norsel
then went in and moored by the quay. A ski patrol of five, with Schytt
as leader, made a reconnaissance trip farther inland, with the special
aim of investigating whether there were crevasses in the ice shelf
behind. The report was reassuring.

The same evening we began the unloading.

We "landed," then, on a floating ice shelf. At about four nautical
miles from the ice front we had made a sounding of 190 fathoms. By
the quay it was 25 fathoms deeper. It was not likely that the ice shelf
had land beneath it within a distance of many miles. And even if
several expeditions had done this before, it was a ticklish affair to
land a on a rocking foundation", as Leif Jakobsen the mate discreetly
expressed it. The German Filchner expedition met with disaster in
1912 far south in the Weddell Sea, when areas of ice shelf extending
for miles suddenly broke loose and drifted out to sea. Byrd had his
"white nightmare" when the huge Ross Ice Shelf by Little America
began to move and split in the autumn of 1934. But we no longer had
any choice, we had to take the chance.

71

The White Desert

About this time Valter Schytt had been promoted second in com
mand of the party and Gordon Robin third in command.

The cook to the expedition, Schj01berg Nilsen, had not felt well
during the journey south, and Dr. Wilson advised him to return
home, which Schj01berg then agreed to do.

I took on two new men. For some time I had realized that we
needed a fitter-electrician and second radio operator. Robin was
indeed responsible for the electrical installation, but he had to look
after so much in addition to this. Rogstad, too, needed help with the
radio. The air unit s radio mechanic Leslie Quar had often spoken of
his wish to join a wintering party. He was a first-rate technician and
well liked by everyone. Walforcl readily agreed and made arrange
ments with the Air Ministry that the expedition should have Quar
on loan from the R.A.F. until 1952.

But we also needed a cook. I talked to NorseFs excellent steward
John Snarby and made him an offer. He would be free to go home
after a year if a ship called in 1951. John was given half an hour to
think it over. Then he accepted. The men of the wintering party
were jubilant I put the matter to Captain Guttorm and he said yes.
We telegraphed to Mrs* Snarby and she was brave.

Sverdrap sanctioned everything* His message to us on February
10 ran; "Congratulations to all of you. You ought to have heard the
stones fall from our hearts/

72

Charles $w*tbinb<tnk

Plate 1. The Norsel alongside the factory ship Thorshfivdi, with whales

as fenders

Plu* AustcT is mutlo rtnidv for rccoiuiaissancc

Nortel unloading

VIII
LANDING IN NORSELBUKTA

BETWEEN February 11 and 20 we had a hectic time. Captain Guttorm
set about the unloading with stupendous energy. The cargo broke
over the ship s side like a tidal wave. The bitter experiences of others
had taught us that the load cannot be allowed to accumulate on an
ice shelf which may break loose at any moment. And our quay was
loose, with cracks fretting and moaning in the swell several hundred
yards up the slope. So the wintering party had to keep at it for all they
were worth in order to get the equipment moved away from the ice
front.

The ship was hardly moored before the whale meat began to pour
out on the ice. At the outset the quay was on a level with the boat
deck, and it rose and fell with the tide just as the ship did. After the
meat there followed the greater part of the deck cargoweasels,
boats, sledges, packing cases and weasel tracks. With the weasels we
pulled all this equipment a little way in on the ice. Delighted dogs
sailed through the air, were caught up and tethered. Mad with joy,
they rolled over, ate snow and made a frightful din. At long last they
could be clean and dry.

Early in the morning of February 11, Schytt, Swithinbank, Ekstrom
and I drove up onto the ice shelf in two weasels and chose a site for
the station. At the same time we came to an arrangement about how
the stores and equipment should be stacked for the time being. All
the cases were marked with section numbers. Now it was for us to
place each one of them around the houses in such a way that the
weasels could drive from pile to pile and unload the cases without
too much loss of time, Orders were given, too, that all the piles must
from the very first moment be marked with stakes in case violent
storms should come and bury everything.

73

The White Desert

The next problem that haunted me was the safety of the station.
The farther in on the ice shelf, the greater the safety. But there are
limits to everything. How far in could I venture to go? That de
pended on time and the weasels. Time was precious now. The weasels
were in a very dubious condition. The experiences of others told us
that we must be prepared for many track breakages.

The long and the short of it was that Maudheim was placed
finally at 71 02.6 south, 10 55.5 west. The distance from the nearest
ice front towards Norselbukta was about one and a half miles and
from the farthest ice front about four miles. The height above sea
level was 123 feet> the thickness of the ice shelf about 600 feet, the
depth of sea about 220 fathoms. And the transport route from the
quay was about one and three-quarter miles.

The next day Schytt took on for the time being the job of foreman
on the quay, while Roer was given the post of discharging foreman.
Captain Guttorm and the crew worked frantically at the unloading,
Ekstrom was busy on weasel repairs at night, and during the day he
acted as transport manager. He took loads of up to three tons at one
go, and the weasels were driven hard. Everywhere one looked men
were toiling with demonic energy. The working day lasted from six
in the morning till ten at night.

For the first few days there were flurries of drift snow. The weasel
drivers often had difficulty in finding the way, despite the tracks in
the snow and the line of marks. All the same, our tempo was just as
rapid as that of the drift snow. The winter was upon us, with tem
peratures below freezing point; we simply had to get finished.

The weasels tore to and fro between the quay and Maudheim,
The tracks held, but the fan belts broke and the vehicles drank cool
ing fluid with alarming greed.

That fantastic man Eckstrom worked miracles "behind the seant
protection of a sheet of Musonite, The snow was blowing all around
him, Changing fan belts on weasels Is a complicated and tedious af
fair, even in warm weather. Now these mishaps cost us more than
a full day.

But the unloading and transport went on steadily. One runner of
a large sledge went down in a crevasse and the sledge collapsed. A

74

Landing in Norselbukta

weasel became troublesome at times. New steep drifts impeded the
driving. The men were thoroughly stiff and fagged out after such a
long period of idleness. Those feelings soon passed off, however.

On February 13 the erection of the houses could begin alongside
all the other work. Schytt was master builder. With the aid of build
ing plans and masses of photographs, he had also, during the voyage
out, instructed Roots and Roer in all the details. This now stood him
in good stead.

The site was cut out in the snow with carpenter s saws, to a depth
of one foot, and the foundation was made firm with iron rodssimply
frozen fast into the snow with water. Then the timbering for the first
house was put up. Everything was ready and only had to be joined
together with bolts. The outer boarding was laid on roof and walls in
thick driving snow, and on February 15 we were sure of the first house.

All this time the stores were coming up in a never-ending stream.
The weasels crawled to and fro like ants on a white sheet. Piles of
packing cases and rows of barrels and drums formed quite a little
"town" around the station, with main and side streets and alleyways.
Outside, the dogs were chained to long wires. Walford had presented
us with the heavy aircraft crate. It was dismantled and erected at
the base, making a splendid workshop which could house a weasel.

Thursday, February 16, was a day to remember. The ship s dis
charge was complete and she rode high at the quay. Most of the
stores had been taken up to the base. The foundations for the second
house were laid and the inside paneling was begun in the first. Wal
ford and Tudor each made a flight over Selbukta and all the way
south to 73, where they found two mountains. These were perhaps
the "Kraulgebirge," which the Germans had sighted in 1939; but in
that case the German map was very inaccurate.

So much accomplished without mishap in barely five effective
working days was a real achievement.

That evening there came a telegram to say that H.M. King Haakon
had sanctioned "Maudheim" as the name of the statxon-with enthu
siasm, I heard later. And we were just as enthusiastic.

The day for NorseTs departure was drawing near. On February 17
Walford took Captain Guttorm on a short flight out seaward, and

75

The White Desert

they saw a great deal of tight pack ice beyond. But Guttorm re
mained as calm as ever. In no circumstances would he leave us be
fore the base was secured, and we were given several more men to
help with the building. The wintering party, however, received or
ders to pack all personal baggage and be ready for speedy disem
barkation. Meanwhile the departure was officially fixed for the morn
ing of Monday, February 20. If house number two and the motor-
shed were roofed over by Saturday evening, Sunday was to be free
for everyone, for writing the very last letters and for a well-deserved
breathing space. Never, I should think, has permission for a school
holiday been greeted with such general enthusiasm.

My young companions this time had in front of them the inspiration
of a fresh harvest of concrete achievement, Fred Roots wrote in an
article at this time: "We look forward to the next two years, confident
that they will be memorable years, convinced that the interesting,
absorbing work we are doing is eminently worth while, and humbly
grateful for having been given the opportunity of being where we
are and doing what we are."

The weather turned out even better than the meteorologists had
promised. The men at the base put on a spurt and got finished. The
Sunday was a clay off letter writing, bathing, packing and talk.
The planes were taken aboard. I bought every movable chair that
was to be found in the ship, and the quay looked like a furniture
warehouse, The crew instituted a collection of polar kit for John
Snarby,

The morning of February 20 was our seventh occasion on this ex
pedition for a leave taking From someone, somewhere. The final
good by is always the worst, because it is decisive; yet it s good to
be alone.

Breakfast at seven o clock with masses of eggs and bacon. One after
another we sauntered ashore, Snarby was seen smuggling across the
gangway some stolen (but excellent) food supplies* The cameras
clicked and a cinecamera made a whirring noise*

Captain Guttorm said: *We have had helJ in Norwegian, luck in
English and tur in Swedish. May it go with you all the way!*

"And back with you!" I thanked him.

76

Landing in Norselbukta

At a quarter-past nine Norsel swung off from the ice front. We
waved and shouted. They waved and shouted. Three long blasts
from the siren. Then the ship vanished around the point.

Norselbukta had all at once become strangely empty and deserted.

77

IX
MAUDHEIM

has now become a bastion rather than an outpost of
civilization!"

This was the triumphant dispatch that Gordon Robin sent to the
Royal Geographical Society s director and secretary, Larry Kirwan,
early in April 1950. Yet during the difficult days at the end of Febru
ary the base was neither a bastion nor an outpost.

When I clambered up on a weasel and through the driving snow
of autumn looked out on this confused jumble of equipment, I real
ized that from three to four hundred tons of material is a very large
amount and that to make it safe from a frozen deluge is indeed a
hard task. I saw mountains of packing cases, piles of hut sections and
other timber, rows of kerosine and gasoline drums, a mound of whale
meat and dried fish, parts of radio masts, rolls of wire and cables. It
was an apparent chaos of cargo strewn over a few hundred square
yards of snow surface which was alive and billowing under the flur
rying drifts. A ceaselessly pouring, hissing stream of dry white pow
der, intensely fine, covered every single thing, inch by inch.

We toiled as if under the clenched fist of autumn s impending
storms. We might at any moment, for all we knew, have the hurricane
raging on top of us with a vortex of dense whirling snow.

To all appearances, however, we had come in for an unexpected
smile on the stern face of the Antarctic, No hurricane arrived. There
were indeed days and nights when the wind blew strong from the
east; and on February 25 we had a nasty gale that piled the heavy
drifts above us. Yet there were many fine, calm days of sunshine.

The work went on at a rattling pace. Obviously the two tasks of
pressing urgency were to secure and fit up the houses and to arrange

78

Maudheim

all the equipment around the buildings in permanent position for
easy access. All this had been planned beforehand,

As early as February 22 the meteorologists had set up their instru
ment screens and were beginning regular observations for the hours
from six in the morning till midnight. On the same day the first radio
masts were erected.

Section through large hut No. 2 at Maudheim

Here I must give a description of the houses. Practically every
polar expedition has, of course, its own type; but the good types are
in their main features pretty much alike. The construction must be
governed by the situation and local weather conditions.

The shape of the houses must be such that they expose the smallest
possible surface to the storms. They must hold their own against hur
ricane and crushing weights of snow. The construction must be sim
ple, with a view to speedy erection. It is also essential to have excep
tionally good insulation in roof, walls and floor. The ventilation is
tremendously important. The fittings must be simple and practical.
And an obvious necessity is an effective and easily managed heating
system. In the choice of materials one must also bear in mind the
risk of fire.

79

The White Desert

We all agreed to get "hut number two" (radio and meteorological
house) completed, or nearly so, first. This, however, meant that at
first the whole party would have to live in the half -finished "hut num
ber one," There a stack of insulation sheets, piled ceiling high, tow
ered above heaps of cases containing things that must not be exposed
to frost. Under the south window the cook reigned with his two splen
did Primus cookers and various boxes of provisions. In one corner
Rogstad and Quar had rigged up a temporary radio section with field
transmitters. In the middle of the floor stood the large provisional kero-
sine stove. Along one wall a makeshift dining and work table had been
put up. And in addition there was personal gear lying everywhere.

Actually the biggest problem was to arrange sleeping space for
fifteen men in the midst and on top of all this. We lay in large Ameri
can sleeping bags most of us higgledy-piggledy on the floor, and two
or three men on loose planks laid over the cross supports up under
the roof. As soon as possible some of the men moved in to the floor of
"hut number two." It was cold there, but at least not dangerous.

On March 1 we were already in direct contact with Bergen Radio.
The first telegram from Maudhcim went to H,M. King Haakon, Then
followed a series of greetings to the three kingdoms. Accompanied
by the roaring of a notoriously strong gale and the howls of forty-five
dogs, the first people in Queen Maud Land held their first polar
celebration.

While the building gang worked overtime indoors on fitting the
cork and Masonite sheets and hammering the wall sections in place
over mats of stone fiber, the transport gang labored out of doors on
equally important "constructional work."

No wintering expedition can find room for more than a fraction of
its equipment inside the houses. Over our piles waved little green
flags on tall bamboo rods. It was now the task of the transport gang
to drive the cases forward to the houses, and build them up in sec
tions, so that they formed a whole system of passages or corridors up
to six feet high and three feet wide. These were covered with tar
paulins. The roof over the corridors was strengthened with beams,
and the canvas was nailed firm, From the largest packing cases we
built garages for the weasels. In all there were about ninety yards of

80

10 20 30

I J 1

T77772 Packing cases

layout of Maudheim. A, large hut No. 1, B, large hut No 2; C

-

o eel 2, radio office, 3, dark room; 4, kitchen; 5 rnes, 6,
ator cave; 7, balloon-filling cave; 8, ramp to workshop; 9 la r n^ 1 BUO
aaraaes- 1 1, glaciological laboratory; 12, tunnel for dogs ; 13 e ntrancell950
H en is 119511, 5, hazard entrance, 16, storeroom; 17, w,ndow wells

The White Desert

such corridors; and the whole system was arranged and marked in
such a way that we could reach every single scrap of stores and
equipment without going out of doors.

The work of the transport gang was a ceaseless struggle against
the drifting snow in wind and gale. At first the matter was simple;
but soon the spades had to come out, and by degrees there was more
and more digging to be done. Towards the end of February not much
remained to be seen but the flag labels waving in the breeze.

But all this time someone else was toiling even more strenuously
than we were. By means of the radio from day to day we followed
with tense anxiety Norsel s struggle against the pack ice. Wo were
overjoyed when a message came through on February 26 to say that
the ship was out in the open sea.

It was delightful to see how the dogs were enjoying life now. It
had been impossible to keep them reasonably clean on board, Wet
and bedraggled and with soaking paws, most of them had been tied
up on very short chains and lived a miserable life. Now they were
clean and well fed. On board they had howled with misery; now
they "sang" with happiness. Now they would be getting their sum
mer coats just before the winter, and nobody had any idea how se
vere the south polar winter would bo at Maudheim, Polar dogs, how
ever, are always best in the open air, and we left them outside for
the time being anyhow.

Meanwhile work on the base was kept up with lively ssost The
second "house * had already been completed on February 28* Hoer
arranged the ventilation system, and the experts, Schytt and Ekstrom,
fixed the permanent oil heater, The bunks were allotted a few clays
later. In the **ratlio house** the meteorologists Schumacher and Liljc-
quist, and the radio men Rogstad and Quur, wore to live, to
gether with Robin the physicist, Dr Wilson, the mechanical engineer
Ekstrom, Melleby, who had charge of the dogs, and myself, line occu
pants of the "first house" or * 4 mess" were, therefore, the glaciologists*
Schytt and Swithinbanlc, the geologists, Roots and Reeco, Roer the
surveyor and Srmrby the cook. This distribution of the members of
our party in the two houses came about quite naturally and turned
out a success.

82

Maudheim

For Robin s "rawin" (radio wind) apparatus we had brought with
us a roomy, specially constructed hut in prefabricated sections. The
erection was begun on the day the radio-house was all complete, the
rawin hut was built a little over 100 yards south of the base, well clear
of masts, guy ropes and steep drifts.

March came in with strong drift snow from the northeast. The
drifts mounted rapidly over the piles of packing cases that were still
outside. We had to do a sprint in order to finish off all the outdoor
work. The cold in itself was not really trying.

Weather on March 3 was calm and fine; but the meteorologists
issued a new gale warning, and the building gang kept hard at it un
til late in the night to get the rawin hut roofed over. We lashed a long
wire around the hut and anchored it to a weasel in case of accidents.

And we did have a gale after that, storms and then a very strong
breeze for several days. But this did not matter now. The bulk of the
equipment was in position and under cover. The rawin hut was
shored up. The insulation and paneling could begin in the "mess" on
March 4, and Quar set about installing electric light in the houses
and corridors. We were to have "ordinary light" direct from the plant
and in addition <c battery light" for the lamps and appliances at night.
All this demanded extensive fitting of cables and fuse boxes; but Les
was an expert in such matters and Robin a capable amateur.

Now, however, a fresh problem presented itself, and one that was
far from pleasant. In the mess, water from melting snow trickled
from the roof, and in the radio house it was so cold that our teeth
chattered even if the stove was stoked to its hottest. The reason was
fairly obvious. As I mentioned earlier, we took the house material
aboard in Goteborg, where it had been drenched by rain. On the voy
age down the boards and sections had dried, becoming and remain
ing warped and crooked. In consequence, the houses were not weath
erproof. Draughts and driving snow made their way in through
chinks everywhere. The snow melted between the insulation plates;
hence a drip from the roof, and draughts. Much of the dripping from
the roof was due to condensation of steam from the kitchen section,
before the insulation and the ventilation were properly arranged in
that house. After Schytt and Roer had fixed steam cowls over the

83

The White Desert

stoves, we entered upon a phase of "fine dry weather on the whole,
with local showers."

The most unfortunate part of all this was that in order to maintain
a fairly respectable temperature in the houses we were obliged to
make unexpected inroads on our stock of kcrosinc. In consequence,
we were not going to have enough fuel for two years. In Cape Town,
as a precaution, I had bought two tons of kerosine by way of a re
serve; yet even so, consumption was too high. I had to telegraph to
Sverdrup, much as I disliked doing so, to say that the expedition re
quired fresh stocks for 1951, at least of kerosine and cooling fluid
for the weasels. This was a difficult yet necessary decision. It meant
three expedition voyages instead of two (as suggested in London in
November^ 1949); but our original plans were based on three calls,
and as things turned out the expedition of 1950-51 was of vital im
portance in many respects. In March, 1950> however, I knew nothing
about that and it was with a heavy heart that I sent the telegram
to Sverdrup.

It was encouraging that Hocr and the geologists at this early stage
suggested a short reconnaissance trip to the iee hills on the east and
southeast. To put the field equipment to the test was an excellent
idea, and besides, it would do the men good to get "the feel of an
expedition,"

On March 6 we put up the meteorological mast. It was thirty-three
feet in height, and a very heavy steel mast, on which Liljequist was to
have his wind gauges and thermometers at various heights above
"snowlavel" The task of erection seemed rather a problem to begin
with. **But we ll manage it/* said Knalle Ekstrom, f *if I just stop and
think a minutel" And straightway he hauled up the mast with a
weasel

At the same time Dr Wilson was fitting up the medical section in
the radio house* There the meteorologists and radio men had already
installed themselves over half the floor space, with a halfway parti
tion between the sections. But Ove Is by no means modest in his de
mands* He laid claim to the rest of the house for a medicine cupboard,
sterilizer, bench for "medical research" and heaven knows what else,
He was obliged, though, to modify his claims to some extent.

84

X

FIFTEEN MEN BEGIN HOUSEKEEPING

INDOORS there is appalling chaos* Equipment and sets of apparatus,
instruments and medicines come pouring in; wood wool and straw
overflow on our fine oak parquet floor. One has to be a contortionist
to move about in the houses and corridors. But the main thing is that
by the middle of March we have brought every scrap of equipment
and stores under cover. Nobody can complain about small discom
forts. In any case, we are agreed that all this material must be
squeezed into the houses and corridors and storerooms, vertically
and horizontally. Whatever overflows at the sides we must gradually
accommodate by digging down under the snow.

So now fifteen men must find out the most practical way of fitting
themselves into two houses, instead of the three originally planned,
to be there for two strenuous years. The space is extremely limited
and congested, a drawback for work indoors. In the long run the
nerves must be affected. And nerves have to be reckoned with as a
very important factor. It is not that the darkness makes such a great
difference. At about 71 south the winter night is comparatively
short in any case. But monotony is more trying than darkness. Also,
the utter impossibility of organizing any relief by air or sea, other
than the single annual visit of the expedition ship, which may or may
not get through the pack ice to the base, made the isolation much
more extreme than in the Arctic. Naturally there is always plenty of
work, in fact more than enough; but it is utterly impossible to relax
properly where fifteen men are herded together. Outdoors there is
little that can be of any permanent interest on a lifeless expanse of
barren snow. A chilly skiing trip is not especially tempting. There is
not a single thing for one to look at here except that same old "Pynten"
away to the north. (See map, p. 93)

85

The White Desert

Nils Roer s ground plan of our Maudheim (page 81), shows better
than any words how we arranged ourselves. Each man was given his
own separate cubicle measuring six and a half feet by four and a half
feet under the sloping roof along the walls. Such a cubicle is smaller
and considerably lower than the minimum size cow stall in an ordi
nary cow bairn, and the doorway is only covered with a curtain. Con
sequently there is no insulation against noise. But these "stalls" do at
least provide each man with a welcome opportunity for retirement
and some slight illusion of being alone. There he exists in his own
cramped quarters for work and for rest in comparative peace. During
the passage of two very long years, it is a good thing for the individual
and for the herd.

We are fifteen men fifteen individuals of singularly varied types
from five different nations. Nine of the number are scientists, with
the sense of superiority that is the natural consequence of an academic
training. The remaining six are without any special pretensions. We
come from Australia in the south, from as far north as Finnmark and
then from Sweden in the east and from as far west as British Colum
bia in Canada* We are all, irrespective of age, mature individualists
who have emerged from the experience of going through one or two
world wars with the march of events between thorn and the after
math. And the leader of such a wintering party will not have an alto
gether simple task particularly when he himself is without specialist
knowledge and feels like an experienced old crow among wise young
owls. In such a case one has to rely more on mutual respect than on
discipline. Military discipline is all too simple to maintain, but it
would be hardly appropriate for our community. We must rely upon
the will to co-operate. And in Mauclheim few orders are given.

The Canadian geologist Fred Roots makes two splendid dining
tables of oak parquet His English colleague, Alan Recce, covers the
walls in the mess with fine bookshelves, and arranges our library of
about five hundred volumes. The Norwegian surveyor, Nils Kocr, fits
up the kitchen and dining room with benches and cupboards and
shelves, so that the cook beams with delight and admiration. The
Swedish glaciologist, Valter Schytt, has proved a very competent mas
ter builder; and now he puts the final touches with the building of

80

Fifteen Men Begin Housekeeping

the latest thing in "outside conveniences." Robin, the physicist from
Australia, together with the Norwegian meteorologist Schumacher
and the Swedish meteorologist Liljequist, installs in an ice cellar un
der the rawin hut a regular gas factory (aluminum and caustic soda)
to charge the daily balloons for the radio-sonde ascents. Dr. Wilson
is discovered to be expert in the finest type of carpentry; while the
remaining members proved to have at least the technical skills one
had expected of them.

It was not until March 12 that I could give Ove instructions to in
stall a complete first aid section, in case of any major accidents. The
necessary equipment for dealing with minor accidents or injuries
had been accessible since our departure from Cape Town.

During the evening of March 13 we made direct radio-telephone
contact with Bergen Radio for the first time. After that Cape Town
came through on the radio-telephone. They heard us clearly at
"strength 5." We felt nearer to the outside world from this moment,
and in Maudheim that night our mood was one of wonder, with even
a hint of solemnity. The next day I "Vang up" Professor Sverdrup in
Oslo through the national telephone system! We heard everything he
said, but he apparently failed to catch the gist of my outpourings.

On March 15 the first radio-sonde balloon went up in a fresh breeze
and was a complete success. This was the first of many hundreds of
balloons that were sent up one every day with varying technique
and in practically all kinds of weather.

The next day Snarby the cook shot a huge Weddell seal down by
the quay, and it was hauled home by weasel. A sledge patrol to the
head of Norselbukta shot thirty-eight seals and came back with a load
of delicate liver. We had to fetch the carcases later.

These seals had stuffed themselves with small, herring-like fish and
amphipods (like our sand fleas). In addition, the stomach and guts
were full of entozoons of various kinds. A great many of the fish were
still so little decomposed that Wilson was able to collect from ten to
fifteen useful specimens to be preserved in formalin. An extremely
indirect and more than usually malodorous form of fishing.

On the whole, I think March 16 is the date which Maudheim men
will remember as being, in a sense, a turning point. That was the day

87

The White Desert

when the ordinary fitting up of the houses and the insulation of the
motor hut and plane crate were so near completion that we could
take a day off. And then the various departments could begin on at
least the preparations for our scientific work, though some of the
meteorological observations had by this time been under way for
almost a month.

Yes, on that day we looked upon Maudheim as fully established.
Moreover, we had entered upon a new period of calm, sunny days,
and we all felt that we had come through the whole thing with in
credible ease so far. With some small discomforts we had really
romped through an interlude which we knew had been extremely
critical for so many previous polar expeditions.

The following day Belle gave birth to five pups, the first such birth
in Queen Maud Land. Then one after another followed, until we had
nests of whimpering crawlers nearly everywhere in the corridors and
storerooms. In all there were about twenty-five puppies. Reece and
Melleby were appointed baby watchers. Wilson drew up dietaries of
dried milk, whale oil, bone meal and various vitamins and groats
with the gradual addition of thawed seal meat. Maudheim became
an absolute nursery, with crawling and whining babies everywhere.
But more dogs we must have; and even though some died from vari
ous causes, we had in the end a bevy of pups almost as fine as I have
ever seen.

Only the seasoned members of a wintering party realize the
importance of scrupulous personal hygiene and order in the camp.
Generally speaking, Maudheim people kept up a very high
standard. Still, young men are young men and when left to their
own devices, they do not take too seriously the admonitions of moth
ers or wives. They are free agents, and even the toothbrush remains
for most rather an instrument for use on ceremonial occasions.

Now the foodthat was on all occasions the acme of perfection.
We had our cook Snarby to thank for this* From the very first day he
cared for us in a way that won international recognition. Meal times
were the festive moments of the day. Our appetites were, and re
mained, enormous. We had reckoned on an average of 5,000 calories
a day; most of us consumed at least 10,000*

88

Gitttorm Jakobsen

Plate 3. The wintering party, 1950-1951

Back roio from left: Roer, Schumacher, Wilson, Swithinbank, Rogstad, Melleby
In front of Melleby: Schytt with the flags of the three nations
In front of Schytt: Ekstrom, Reece and Snarby with Giaever to the extreme right
Kneeling in front: Robin, Quar, Roots, Liljequist

The Norsel departs from Maudheim, February 20, 1950

Plate 4

Drifting snow covers Maudheim

Swithinbank

Fifteen Men Begin Housekeeping

Now I allotted the "responsibilities" for the various departments.
In most of the purely technical spheres the arrangement was of
course automatic, each department head attending to his special
province. But apart from this, Quar was made responsible for the
electrical equipment, Wilson for office supplies, Ekstrom for tools of
every description, and so on. Alan Reece was particularly interested
in everything to do with sledging equipment and the organization of
sledging expeditions. I therefore handed over to him, quite experi
mentally, the responsibility for all that came under the category of
sledging and traveling equipment. We could never have found a bet
ter man, and Alan s responsibilities were gradually extended to cover,
in addition, the organization of the advanced base and all the field
depots, the estimation of quantities and packing of everything.

Almost imperceptibly we slipped into a more and more monoto
nous daily routine.

Here I ought perhaps to mention the problem which in a greater
or lesser degree weighed on the minds of most of us during these few
months. Would the ice shelf hold?

Occasionally some of us began discussing the question. We agreed
that it would not be an actual catastrophe if our part of the ice shelf
broke off and drifted into the Weddell Sea. There could then, of
course, be no summer trips; but at all events the meteorologists could
go on with their observations, and even the glaciologists would find
something to work on. The catastrophe would come about only if the
ice shelf broke right under the houses, and the chances of that hap
pening were definitely slight. Very soon we forgot the whole affair.

Some of the local crevasses down towards Norselbukta did indeed
open by an inch or so in twenty-four hours; but this simply showed
that there was pressure in the ice masses down in the valley itself
against the high ice front outside. The actual plateau round Maud-
heim was steady, even if slowly and imperceptibly it was sagging
towards the outer edge. How much or little we were actually in
motion, horizontally and vertically, we did not guess till later.

89

XI
FROM DAYS OF SUN TO POLAR NIGHT

WHO WOULD be able to say exactly when it is that summer passes into
autumn or that autumn gives way to winter down here? The sur
rounding scene is nothing but snow and ice the whole year through;
even though, indeed, there is much diversity of light and some of
temperature. Most people everywhere would say, no doubt, that it
is always winter hereearly winter, midwinter and late winter.

The days grew shorter. The sun sank lower. The incessant drive of
powdery snow from the northeast, spreading over the level ground,
slowly submerged the camp in its white deeps. The drift mounted
above us. Soon we realized that we were living inside it under it.
When the dogs took to scampering over the roofs we saw ourselves
completely entombed. But away to the north there was always Pyn-
ten, "the Point," the headland in the ice front with its Elephant seal
trunk in all that whiteness and during all that time the only object to
arrest the eye. There were days when distant icebergs loomed up
like ships abandoned; out oceanward a sable sea would mirror the
lowering sky. But Pynten was always just there, a signally secure and
close reality, a very magnet for the eyes as one stepped out into the
open and involuntarily scanned the waste in search of but one sure
guide. In a wilderness so blurred in its outlines a "Point" is indeed a
wonderful boon, even if little by little one grows sick of the very
sight of it.

The sun sank in the ice. Never before had I seen the season of day
light pass over in such flaming scarlet into the polar night. After that
there was nothing but the memory of light and life on the horizon low
down over the ice front to the north. It was an ever-dwindling horizon
fading, too, from the beacon fire of scarlet flame into the dying

90

From Days of Sun to Polar Night

glow of dusky rose, to disappear finally in dull tones of gold. And
now for many a day we had seen the last of those departing fires.
The Creator forsook us and turned away northward with His heav
enly light, while behind Him He left an impoverished sky and the
cold mirror of the moon. The earth s shadow grew black about us.
Yet so intensely white is this desert of ice that night is rarely alto
gether dark.

During this transition period from days of sun to polar night, our
activities in Maudheim were many and varied.

In the middle of March, Schytt and Swithinbank started on the
task of putting up a system of bamboo stakes around the camp at in
tervals of half a mile, in order to gauge the accretion of snow and the
movements liable to occur in the ice shelf. At the same time Roer, as
sisted by Melleby and Wilson, embarked on a series of careful meas
urements of the ice shelf elevation between the landing place and
Maudheim. The meteorologists had pushed their wind and tempera
ture instruments up to a height of thirty-three feet on the mast, and
the glaciologists lowered their thermometers, with a hand drill, to a
depth of twenty-six feet below the surface.

As a general measure of precaution, Wilson was giving lectures on
the subject of frostbite and the treatment of other injuries due to frost.

Melleby had his team of Greenland dogs in working trim. The
geologists fitted up one of the British sledges, arranged the harness
and began to train a new team. The first sledging journeys were in
preparation.

On Sunday, March 26 ? we were able to allow ourselves the first
real day of rest. Some of the men went out on skis for exercise. The
others simply relaxed. Three of the Swedes that same evening man
aged to talk to their families by telephone over Radio Goteborg direct.
I noted in my diary that "tihe possibilities of technical skill are appar
ently boundless."

Before March went out with a strong breeze and a temperature of
12 F., the glaciologists had dug their laboratory in the end part of
the corridor towards the southeast. I imagine this must have been
one of the coldest laboratories in the whole world; but anyone who
has to examine ice crystals under the microscope must put up with

91

The White Desert

such a temperature as will prevent the ice from melting. All the same,
I must admit that I often pitied Schytt and Swithinbank. On many
grounds I thanked my lucky stars for not having been a glaciologist.

The new snow that drifted above the houses and corridors grad
ually formed a dome which rose and grew over the base itself, with
outcrops towards the southwest. This increasing drift over the station
was really all for the best. The heating of the houses, which to begin
with seemed likely to become a complicated problem, righted itself
more or less of its own accord as the drifts closed in. Yet the heating
was never entirely satisfactory. Our system gave us results that were
the reverse of what we had desired and planned. The cubicles were
cold, and the coldest, of course, were those in the corners farthest
away from the stove and which had two outside walls. As a result,
Schytt, Quar and Schumacher were bothered by a coating of rime on
the walls long after the drips from the roof had subsided. In these
cubicles the temperature at floor level was often below freezing
point, even if in the general room our thermometer registered over
60 F. approximately three feet above floor level. Consequently kero-
sine consumption persisted at a rate considerably above that of our
original estimate.

The first sledging expedition set out from Maudheim on April 3, in
bright sunshine with a slight breeze from the east and temperature
of minus 13 F. The party consisted of Roer and Melleby, Roots and
Reece. Each of the two sledges had a load of about eight hundred
pounds and was drawn by a team of seven dogs. The aim of the jour
ney was principally to give Roer a chance to fix points on the two ice
hills to the southeast and east. Also we were anxious to have, as soon
as possible, some idea of the lay of the land within a certain radius.
We were, of course, specially interested in possible crevasse areas
running inland where the R.A.F. airmen had suggested we ought to
make our way southward later on. Finally, it was important for us
to test our field equipment.

These first short sledge runs around the base will not be described
in detail, as so many longer and more interesting journeys will occur
in the story. I need only say that the excursion lasted twelve days
and went according to plan. It was established that the eastern hill

92

From Days of Sun to Polar Night

(Ostasen) rose to approximately 1000 feet and was about nineteen
miles from the base. Probably it lay over a peninsula that projected
from the southeastern hill (Sorasen) in a northerly direction. As will
be seen from Roer s map, the two hills are joined by a low isthmus.
This depression accordingly forms a crevasse-free passage across to
a new stretch of ice shelf east of Maudheim. It was assumed that
Sorasen marked the edge of the inland ice itself. Relatively steep and
partially crevassed up to approximately 1,400 feet, from there it
sloped more gradually southeastward. The distance from Maudheim
was between twenty-two and twenty-five miles over a level and cre
vasse-free ice shelf.

\ Eastern Ice Shelf

\

Maudhe/m ice Shelf \ \

H

10 M5

The area around Maudheim, based on observations made during

sledge journeys in the autumn, 1950. Routes are given. Rough

contours are given with 100-m. intervals. Observation points are

numbered in Roman numerals, and crevassed areas

marked by shading

The White Desert

At Maudheim, meanwhile, work pursued its even course. The
meteorological routine had begun to follow a regular pattern, with
observations every three hours from six in the morning till midnight
and a radio-sonde balloon every day. Ekstrom overhauled the rather
rusty motor of Schytfs boring machine. Schytt and Swithinbank as
sembled the sections of the little boring hut. At the apex of the roof
there was a small hatch, where the long rods could be pushed up
while the boring went on. On April 10 the machine was in position,
and the glaciologists began the wearing task that was to bring them,
results which were extremely valuable.

Altogether we very soon realized that wintering in the Antarctic
involves interminable digging any amount of regular shoveling of
loose snow in all directions. Liljequist arranged a little grotto below
the surface for making his radiation measurements. Poor Gosta had
a hard time of it with this snow cave, and later many a cold vigil down
there. Even Dr. Wilson dug snow during those days a trench along
the wall of the establishment, sheltered on the west, to prevent the
drifting snow from piling high in front of our doorway. But the swirl
ing drifts filled up Doc s trench and massed themselves against the
door. We had to struggle and dig through this opening the whole of
that winter.

Meanwhile, on April 5 Wilson began his medical tests once again.
And they are not exactly pleasant for the rest of us. Once a month he
pricks our ears and draws blood from us into a glass tube before
breakfast and after lunch. Not a creature on this ice enjoys having a
needle thrust in his ear lobe during the somewhat depressing transi
tion from sleep to returning consciousness. But Ove soon has us wide
awake. This is how he checks the sugar content of our blood, the
proportion of hemoglobin, the number of red and white corpuscles.

At Easter, Snarby the cook was taken illprobably poisoned
through having stood all day long over the Primus stoves which were
not properly cleaned and therefore very smoky. This is being men
tioned just to allow me to boast of having taken over the cook s job
for a week. Now, I tihink it s quite good fun to do the cooking but not
for so many people. No one exactly complained of my very amateurish
achievements, but we were all happy to see Snarby take over again.

94

From Days of Sun to Polar Night

Just as April ended, so did May begin, with storm and thick driving
snow, and a visibility of between five and ten yards. Before one grows
used to this, snowstorms and a temperature of from 5 to 14 F. mean
something pretty severe. The rest of us could stay indoors, but the
poor meteorologists, of course, had to go out to their instrument
screens seven times in the twenty-four hours. Now, one can easily
protect the body against all kinds of weather; but with the face, and
especially the eyes, it is quite another matter. If the men used sun
glasses they could see nothing, and without glasses they got their
eyes pasted up with snow. We tried using face masks, and I made
Eskimo sun glasses with narrow slits to see through. But nothing was
any good. This stormy spell brought many troubles in its train. The
passages drifted up. The gasoline dumps, the diesel drums and the
piles of stores were buried. They had to be dug out and shifted clear
of the drift that had formed around the houses. Some of the dogs had
to be taken inside and simply thawed out of the sheath of ice in which
the drift had encased them. These dogs were shedding their coats,
and were given room in the passages when the storm was at its worst.
The majority managed very well outside.

On May 3 there was an accident which might easily have had seri
ous results. Robin was taking his turn at making hydrogen in the
snow cellar under the rawin hut, and he was there alone. When he
was about to empty the slag from the generator, a spurt of caustic
soda splashed up on him, and part of the corrosive fluid hit his face
and eyes. He was blinded, but managed to grope his way back to the
base, where Wilson took him in hand and bathed his eyes with boracic
solution. Robin had a day or two of pain after this, but fortunately
his eyes were uninjured.

On the morning of May 8 we heard a dull rumbling in the ice away
to the northwest, and simultaneously a white vapor rose from the
snow field toward the landing place. Schytt, Roots and Reece went
to investigate; but they found the nearest portion of the ice shelf un
altered. All the same, the ice shelf had moved ever so slightly, for in
Norselbukta there were distinct traces of a wave up to two feet high.
The following day the creaking in the ice shelf was again quite pro
nounced. After this all was quiet and we soon forgot the whole busi-

95

The White Desert

ness. But when Reece and Melleby on May 11 were going to drive a
weasel out on the bay by the quay, they failed to reach the spot,
because the ice front had risen about three feet.

Now the season of darkness was approaching. On May 19 the sun
was due to disappear altogether. Then began the chapter which,
more or less in joke, we called "the Antarctic winter night/ The first
early winter was at an end. It closed ostentatiously.

Late at night on May 15 came the first onslaught in a strong wind
from the east. Toward the evening of the sixteenth the storm was at
its height and the temperature 14 F. To quote my diary: "There s
such a hurricane of driving snow that the meteorologists are blinded
and tumble head over heels. Charles went down into the boring hut
to clear the snow from the machine and couldn t make his way out
again. Schytt had to go and dig him out." From 12:45 the wind force
was seventy miles an hour and the barograph was still falling steeply.
The day gave us a fright or two. Roer and Roots had for some time
been working on magnetic observations in a new igloo, in shifts
around the clock. This was one of the coldest jobs in Maudheim to
sit there for hours on end, fur-clad from top to toe, and jot down
notes by the meager light of a smoky candle.

That particular morning Roots went on duty at half-past nine.
There was only a moderate breeze at the time, and it was easy to fol
low the well-staked-out path. In the igloo were both food and a sleep
ing bag in case of emergency. He could have weathered the storm
for days. Now, Fred is a tough and experienced mountaineer from
the Rockies. We were just beginning to know this silent Canadian,
and we suspected that nothing less than a violent gale could keep
him. Besides, he had remarked that he would be back about one
o clock. When one o clock came we were on the verge of a hurricane,
and there was no sign of Fred; but we had to allow for the possibility
that he was already on the way. Roer and Schytt prepared to go out
to his relief taking a heavy rope.

At half -past one Fred came crawling in. From his ice-crusted face
we heard the scarcely articulate words: "Oh, I am so sorry I Yes, I m
perfectly all right." Nevertheless, he had crawled along on his storn-

96

From Days of Sun to Polar Night

ach for over an hour from stake to stake against the wind. With a
spade he had gone on digging himself a foothold, and somehow or
other had worked his way forward on a horizontal stairway over
five hundred yards long.

Late that evening the stovepipe in the mess house became drifted
up with snow, and the ventilator exploded with a force that sent
Schytt headlong.

An explosion of the same sort aroused us in the radio house that
night at exactly 4:50 a.m. Rather a drastic salute to usher in Norway s
national dayl We put out the stove and slept on. In consequence, it
was cold as ice in both houses until Ekstrom crawled out and pulled
the hoods off the two chimneys.

Thus May 17 in Maudheim began early and in lively style, in keep
ing with the best traditions. When at about four o clock the festivities
were beginning indoors, the barograph curve suddenly fell almost
perpendicularly, and the hurricane rose to seventy-five miles an hour
(an increase from fifty-six miles an hour) in a few minutes. At 5:15 the
pressure went up again, just as suddenly, and the hurricane dropped
down to the tempo of a breeze. The Antarctic had rim riot for an hour
with its packed orchestra in honor of the day. We fifteen men under
the piled snowdrift held out considerably longer.

May 18 traditional low pressure both in and out of doors. Storm
from the north outside.

And then on the sun s last day a silent fall of snow. We saw no sun.
Small snowflakes came fluttering over us like fluffy down.

But in the darkness of the day a snow particle glistened on my
sleeve. That was certainly not a bit of fluffy down, when one looked
closer at it. It was a perfect little masterpiece of a star a new little
accession to these hundred miles of snow and ice.

Down from the northwest come yelping hordes of howling nights
and days, jaws slashed with white, and the tempest is remorseless in
its flogging fury. New layers of white are whipped firm over the old,
pure and untainted though it is.

Sometimes again, high pressure with frost sweeps over us from the
plateau in the south and clears the fleecy clouds from the sky. The

97

The White Desert

dome of heaven is sparkling clear; but the tiny particles of moisture
in the air are frozen into a gleaming haze of microscopic ice crystals,
far smaller than the starry morsels of the driving snow.

The frozen crystalline mist catches up rays from sun or moon and
forms gauzy haloes of heaven s light sometimes in pure white re
flexes like the light showing through porcelain, sometimes in cold
spectra of the subdued colors in glass.

Schytt and Liljequist gather the crystals on glass plates brushed
with oil, and photograph them under the microscope. This fantastic
wealth of the fragile jewels of the winter air provokes one into puz
zled rumination. What law and what forces can have created this
profusion of varying gems, so perfectly constructed in their delicate
forms, with such mathematical precision in the framework of their
radiant beauty. And so completely transient. Frost is truly elegant
and graceful and full of fantasy as a master in his craft, and of an
overwhelming prodigality.

Little by little we are to penetrate more deeply into the marvelous
romance of this snow, when Schytt brings up a cross section from the
close packed masses in the ice shelf. Out of his boring tube he will
take cores from down to a depth of 300 feet; first milk-white, granular
n6ve with much air in it still, afterwards real glacier ice, clearer and
clearer, with confined air bubbles. And here we enter upon the proc
ess of transformation from the showering stars of snow and the float
ing ice crystals to the agglomeration of fallen snow and ice in the
depths.

Stars, rosettes, plates, prisms, triangles and spicules at the mo
ment of hitting the snow surface they begin to be blotted out. The
substance composing them parts with its own forms and passes on to
the fashioning of far coarser grains of snow. But the law still prevails
and the transformation follows strict rules. Put the sections of snow
granules under the microscope and you will find they are constructed
from new crystals, larger and smaller; but again they are all shaped
in the magic hexagon. Deeper and deeper down into the snow mass
the crystals are followed, and still the change goes on. The larger
crystals absorb the smaller, and even in this process the lines of the
hexagon are not broken. All is rigorously organized, through the airy

98

From Days of Sun to Polar Night

texture of the surface snow far down into the hardened and compact
but plastic mass of ice below.

The glaciologists follow the transformation in strata from year to
year, from decade to decade and finally down into centuries past.

I wonder what centuries of snowfall and star showers, of storm and
frozen mist, are concealed in the depths of the 10,000-feet-high dome
of the Antarctic plateau?

Oh yes, you may smile up there at home when I go into raptures
in a telegram about the "riddles of the icy waste" which we are striv
ing to solve. But here as I stand behind the year s last sunset, its fires
now quenched, a little star lies on my anorak sleeve and there is
something of rapture in my mood.

We are south of the day and behind the sun. The curtain has fallen
for the season of darkness.

99

XII
THE SEASON OF DARKNESS

IF ONE COULD imagine the impossible, that a stranger arrived at Maud-
heim one winter day in June, 1950, this is the picture he would see-
two dark house ridges with light in the wells dug in front of the win
dows. White, steamy smoke from two stovepipes in the middle of the
snow. Seven radio masts, a whirling propellor on a post and a radio
mast with small, swirling anemometers, a few instrument screens
waist high in snow. The little black dome on the left is the top of the
glaciologists* boring hut. And the only outhouse between high drifts
over there on the level ground is not really a cow barn, it is Robin s
rawin hut. The long rows of barking wild beasts with shaggy ice-
crusted coats are just friendly and frisky huskies.

If this stranger comes to Maudheim one winter morningat six
o clock to be precisehe will find the camp dark and silent. But from
a hole in the banked-up drift a figure comes creeping out, clad in
windproof garments, armed with a flashlight and a pencil. He is fol
lowed by a dark and sinuous trail of twenty-five puppies eager for
play and plunder. He wades on through a sea of puppies over the
smooth, drifted snow. He flashes the light into a screen of rime-coated
instruments; still drunk with sleep and numbed by the cold, he
thrusts aside the wide-awake little clogs and with stiff jSngars scrawls
his curious signs on a cigarette carton. If he loses a rnitten, one may
watch a grotesque circus under the Southern Cross, when a furious
meteorologist, now roughly jerked awake, struggles hard, but alto
gether hopelessly, against the superior force of puppy tongues licking
him in joyful excitement.

100

The Season of Darkness

This little piece is known as "taking the morning obs," and it ushers
in every new day at Maudheim. Our cook Snarby turns out an hour
and a half after the prelude, and the official breakfast begins at half-
past eight. Some eat breakfast and some have a meal later. Some have
worked till ]ate at night and others contend with the curse of
sleeplessness.

In Maudheim time was too short for most of us; some slogged
harder than others who took time for breaks with a cigarette or a cup
of coffee. It must be emphasized that in some cases the program of
work was overwhelming, and perhaps the plans were based on the
supposition that everything could go without a hitch and without any
serious difficulties. Presumably, however, the written orders repre
sented more the desirable and maximum limits of attainment than
any cut-and-dried demands.

One can understand that a young man will work with enthusiasm
at his own subject particularly when his whole future plainly de
pends on the results. But on expeditions we have the "ordinary man"
too, the man who has no such personal incentive to spur him on. And
the ordinary man would have to be a superman to keep up for two
whole years unreasonably long hours of work at abnormally high
pressure however sporting and willing his disposition may be.

Now, I would say that in N.B.S.A.E we had far less trouble with
demons of the winter darkness than I had anticipated I think the in
ternational combination was a happy one. Yet we did have our difficult
passages too. And some men found things more difficult on occasions
than others.

One thing certain is that the four of us who had perforce to stay
behind at the base, nailed down as it were for the whole expedition,
in many respects really had a more difficult lot than our colleagues
who could get away on sledging trips for months at a time. But the
man who struggles along behind a dog team through deep snow and
frigid, stormy weather finds it hard to understand that it is wearisome
to remain "stationary."

Insomnia has not been mentioned so far. It represents a serious
problem in all regions that have their dark season. But insomnia, like
seasickness and toothache and "the morning after," arouses no sym-

101

The White Desert

pathy or understanding in those not suffering from the same ill. And
not everyone is troubled by it. I realize, of course, that people all over
the world who suffer from insomnia will understand what I mean.

I myself have always slept like a log. I slept every night unper
turbed through the bombing of London in 1940, in convoys across
the Atlantic and the Arctic during the war years. This capacity for
sound sleep has kept me relatively sane through more critical periods
than can usually be squeezed into the space of one human life. But in
Maudheim that all came to nothing. I can offer no explanation. It just
happened. I was sleepless from the first to the last night of those two
years. Maybe it was just as well. Several others had the same experi
ence, and I was able to protect them in self -defense when criticism
was too severe. This is one of the dark-season problems which the
will cannot handle. But men must have a minimum of sleep no
matter where or when or how.

I must be excused for wilting mainly of my own reactions, in order
to make this winter picture complete. I am using myself as a sort of
common denominator. I do understand that our insomnia was in a
sense irritating to the nerves of those of us who were fully endowed
with the gift of sleep. It may be, indeed, that the annoyance was
greater for them than for us. I know all about this, especially as I had
myself, during wintering expeditions for years past, been one who
slept well and refused to admit the difficulties of my sleepless com
panions. I was guilty then of such harsh intolerance! So detestably
lacking in comprehension is health in its attitude towards the sick
and sorry.

Squeeze fifteen men together at close quarters in a confined space
and in utter isolation anywhere at all in the world for so long a time
and see if they don t soon grow sick and tired of one another! For
quite a while things go well. Some are of tougher mold than others.
But even the hardest stone is worn down if friction is applied long
enough.

On this expedition, as I have said, each man had his own cubicle.
This was a blessing for as long as it made a difference. But that did
not last so very long. I think that most of us, consciously or uncon
sciously, need to be alone sometimes. Everywhere else in the world

102

The Season of Darkness

people can withdraw themselves, go on their own course, be quite
alone if they feel an urge that way. But on an expedition there is abso
lutely no way of escape from a cramped and compulsory companion
ship. This is most difficult of all during the long months of the dark
season.

I considered myself quite inured to the experience of a wintering
expedition. But I had never before gone through the polar winter as
one of a herd. My winters had been solitary. I had lived for months
on end without seeing any other traces in the snow than my own, and
the tracks of dogs, foxes and wolves, of hare and ptarmigan, of polar
bear and roaming musk ox. I saw no human beings and heard none.
Year after year. An experienced wintering explorer? Yes. But all
the same, I knew very little about a congested herd of men in
two small huts, for long years, on such a completely barren expanse
of ice, at the opposite end of the world! I was used to the sound of a
friendly silence. But, although most of my companions undoubtedly
found things more difficult than I did more or less in proportion to
their degree of toughness things did go well.

We had, I think, every variety of noise in Maudheim. Quite a com
forting sound was the regular humming of motor and wind generator
and the whirring fan in the heater.

"A soothing sound/ said Ekstrom.

But there are so many other disturbing noises that jar on nerves
frayed by the stresses of the winter. One thinks of heavy feet on the
double flooring, the scraping sound of furniture dragged through the
room, strident discords from the radio section, the slamming of a
door, conversations shouted from one cubicle to another, incessant
humming and out-of-tune whistling forever on the same phrase.
The door slams again. The radio is turned on too loud with an infer
nal jazz or barbaric South African talk past all comprehension but it
is kept on for the sake of the noise itself. The puppies bark in the cor
ridor like lost souls in hell. Rog roars out a verse of a tune, over and
over again a hundred times, or dishes up a lengthy and pointless story
for the hundred and first time, in Norwegian, Swedish and English.
He drowns the radio with a solo roar of laughter. Then the door
slams again. Schumacher in desperation throws down his meteor-

103

The White Desert

ological notes and tramps restlessly to and fro in front of his cubi
cle, like a half-tamed wild beast in a cage. To and fro. Gosta s
bunk creaks, where he sits pounding on his calculating machine.
People come in. The door slams. People go out. The door bangs
every time.

It s a strange thing that everyone grumbles about the noise, yet
everyone shares in making it. Nobody notices the noise he makes
himself. I wonder how and to what extent I myself am guilty of noise?

The shortest man in the expedition party, Knalle Ekstrom, was
Swedish and small and quiet. But he had a sense of humor that was
genial and sure and of really international scope. His quietly uttered
remarks could be heard through the din and were often repeated by
others.

Of the British one can say that they were not noisy and that they
became absorbed in the work itself, with an impersonal attitude. Be
ing apparently more indifferent to their surroundings than us Scandi
navians, they seldom betrayed any tendency to loss of humor or swift
change of mood. I am sure they all slept well. Perhaps it is a fact that
the British, over the course of centuries, have trained themselves to
take a wider view of life than is usual among those of us from the
small nations, with our more parochial habits of mind. Perhaps they
are more disposed to take other races as they find them whether
these be Bedouins of the desert, Mongols of the East, Negroes, or
again Scandinavians.

And finally, as far as my own countrymen and I myself are con
cerned, it is hardly open to question that, for Norwegians, we made
up an unusually sober and taciturn contingentthat is, apart from
Rogstad with his indomitable spirits. I myself have become with the
years rather settled in my ways, growing sluggish and lacking now
the physical and mental resilience that separates the summer bear
from his wintry fellow. But the others had better pass judgment on
us. And I expect they will, too.

However that may be, the work pursued its fairly even course
throughout the dark months. And that, after all, was the chief thing.

We were very soon extremely isolated on our plain of snow. The
radio did not function well, even after Rogstad and Quar had erected

104

Plate 5. Schumacher on his way to the hydrogen generator

Photos by SttK Httl

Plate 6

(2) , Va/tcr Scbytt, CharlM Switbinhttnk

Upper left: Charles Swithinbank using a theodolite. Upper right: Valter
Schytt in the "snow laboratory." Lower left: Fred Roots at the drafting
board. Lower right: Gosta Liljequist on tlie meteorological mast.

The Season of Darkness

a far more efficient rhombic antenna. Conditions were particularly
difficult in the winter o 1950. We seldom picked up news from the
outside world, and telegraphic communication with our own coun
tries became very sporadic indeed.

The winter darkness settled on top of us like a soft carpet that
dulled every sound. The storms reached their climax quite unexpect
edly with the hurricane about May 17. We could hardly believe it.
Nights and days of light wind for weeks on end. Temperatures often
between minus 44 and minus 49F. 5 but keeping fairly level around
minus 20F. Seldom any substantial snowfall. And off the coast all
the winter the current was opening up wide lanes of sea, even all the
way in to the "Point." The last two snow petrels visited the base on
June 15. It was not until late July that the weather demons began
again to be rather temperamental. And we had been prepared to en
counter the spirits of the Antarctic in their full fury! It is pleasant, in
deed, to be surprised in such a way. The winter of 1951 was to prove
a very different matter.

The calm weather offered us many advantages. Roer and Roots
were able, at their leisure, to build a twenty-yard-long tunnel on to
the magnetic igloo. Ekstrom and Melleby managed to keep their wea
sel entrance to the "crate" (the mechanical workshop) free of obstruc
tion until the motors were overhauled and reinforced tracks were
fitted on all three vehicles.

Knalle and Peter are the most silent members of the party. The
rest of us do not hear them or see much of them. For long periods the
aircraft crate is their permanent place of work, where the weasels
are made ready for the long expeditions in spring and summer. But
in the crate it is a cold business to potter about, bare-armed, with
cold thick oil and grease for machine parts that are frosted up, They
are hardy fellows, both of them; but now and then, blue with cold and
their fingers numb, they come in to thaw themselves as well. They
are shivering and their teeth chatter; the coffee spills over; a cigarette
quivers in the corner of the mouth. They say little, and their voices
are hoarse and uncertain. But they work miracles of mechanical sur
gery in a dark ice cellar. It s no easy matter, and they have their
dark days.

105

The White Desert

Meanwhile Roots and Reece set about assembling the British heavy
runner sledges. Roer makes a map of the base.

In the boring hut Schytt and Swithinbank must first drill a small
hole deep down in the ice for self-registering thermometers. After
that they are to start on the actual investigations which mean haul
ing up ice cores with the thick drill. Ice boring with a machine of this
land has never been attempted before, and the two men must feel
their way step by step on an experimental basis. The trial efforts at
home did not appear promising, and many people predicted hopeless
failure. Down here the conditions of work are obviously more dif
ficult, and the advantage gained from the heavy lengths of rod is
severely limited.

Yet this task, which to the rest of us appeared bleak and unpromis
ing, was tackled by them with irrepressible energy. At first, naturally,
the work was relatively simple, with short rods. Each section was
about ten feet long. The thin lengths weighed about thirty-three
pounds each, the thick ones fifty-five pounds.

Now the reader will realize that the drilling operation becomes
more and more tiresome the deeper one penetrates. At about sixty
feet down the work began to be dull, at close on 100 feet it was really
irksome, and before one reached 150 feet the oppressive tedium of it
was enough to drive one silly. Each time the borer went in, it would
penetrate another three feet before the drilling bit became clogged
and had to be cleared of ice. This meant winching up the tube for
about ten feet, then taking a section out after working it loose with a
large pipe wrench. Then ten feet more and a fresh unscrewing. And
so on. Hoist and unscrew, hoist and unscrew. Often it was a pretty
tough job in the frost to separate the tubes. And when at last the
drilling bit was up and the bottom tube emptied, the screwing to
gether and lowering started once more; the whole confounded busi
ness had to be done all over again every ten feet.

In the process of boring to a depth of just over 200 feet the rod
snapped approximately fifty feet below the surface, and about 160
feet of it were stuck fast in the precious hole. The work of many days
thrown away! This meant that we would have to begin entirely afresh
dig a new ice grotto, move the hut and the machine. But the very

106

The Season of Darkness

next day all this was done, and the boring of a new hole began.

As I mentioned earlier, the location of Maudheim did not satisfy
either glaciologists or geologists or surveyor. We were too far west
for the most extensive and important of the mountain masses inland
to be accessible with weasels or dogs. In addition, the base was on
ice shelf, and Schytt was far more interested in borings on inland ice
with land underneath.

"For my part, however, I found great consolation in the knowledge
that for the meteorologists our base camp was ideally placed. It was
right out in the middle of an open expanse of snow extending for
miles around, free from the possibility of local disturbance, such as
wind eddies, still zones and so on. For them no better conditions
could exist than those found in Maudheim. They thought, too, that
farther eastward we should have met much worse weather conditions.

Meteorological observations in a location such as this are of great
importance, as much from the practical as from the purely scientific
standpoint; and they will be of value for a long time to come. We know
that the great tracts of ice in the polar regions have a decisive in
fluence on weather conditions all over the earth. Greenland s im
mense dome of ice affects the weather over large portions of the
northern hemisphere. And the vast continent of ice in the Antarctic
has an even more widespread effect. New knowledge has amplified
the information we already had about this earth we live^on. Of what
value the material from Maudheim will prove to be, I naturally do
not know myself. But I do know to the full what the cost of every sin
gle figure and every single note was to Schumacher, Liljequist and
Kobin, in effort and real physical strain especially during the dark
season, when it was coldest too, and at the stormy periods. Their
working days were long and gave no breaks for rest.

Under normal conditions each observation series is quickly com
pleted; but in Maudheim it might take up to an hour, and that in
itself could mean a small expedition.

AndGosta s incessant clambering up the thirty-three-foot high "met"
mastl The mast had a ladder attached, to be sure; but, all the same, it
was a tough experience for him to dangle up there in all weathers
and with bare hands to fumble with tiny screws, when the instru-

107

The White Desert

ments had so often to be checked and adjusted and cleared of rime.
He hardly knows himself how many times the small anemometers
were crammed with pulverized snow and had to be thawed indoors
on the stove. It is really a wonder to me that Gosta has managed to
keep his fingertips through it all.

Sending up daily sonde balloons is simple, if one gets the hydrogen
ready made in high pressure flasks. But in Maudheim the gas had to
be produced every day through the mixing of aluminum, caustic soda
and water in an iron cylinder. From this gas generator the "day s bal
loon" was filled. But it was not so very simple to deal with water in a
snow grotto where the temperature was always below freezing point.
In theory it is supposed to be possible, and more often than not this
is so in practice also. But Schumacher and Liljequist could tell of
frequent leakages, and of processes spoiled owing to ice in valves
and screw threads.

Nor do I imagine that Robbie indulged in the notion of a "friendly
Antarctic" when for hours he sat alone in his cold and dark rawin hut
and followed the path of the balloon towards the stratosphere with
his heavy directional aerial. His task was to operate the equipment
for recordings of the wind in the various atmospheric strata.

And even before the midwinter period Valter had his new ther
mometer down to a depth of close on 150 feet. The temperature was
measured periodically. Thus on one day we were able to telegraph
home that among other things we gauged the "temp" from fifty yards
below the snow to twelve miles up! And another day the little radio
of the sonde sent down to us from a height of 15,000 feet a message
that the temperature was 130 below zero F. up there. This must be
the lowest temperature that up to now has been recorded at that level.

Swithinbank used to tramp on his lonely way to the measuring
stakes in all directions. Generally he went on skis, but at times also
he dashed off in a weasel, whipping up a steam that lay solid in the
frosty air behind him. Where he floundered across the high drifts he
looked like a Greenland musk ox at full gallop.

We were quite snug under the deep snow drift that winter, in spite
of everything. The weeks went swiftly by, but even so the months all
seemed to take a slow and stubborn course. The first winter always

108

The Season of Darkness

works out like that. But we lived well, and one can always get through
a dark season all right when there is plenty of electric light.

We used to relax at times and have a drink. Opinions vary greatly
as to the use of alcohol on wintering expeditions, some favoring total
abstinence, others anything up to relatively lavish indulgence. I have
sampled both ends of the scale. Every man must work out his own
salvation in this matter; I find my own is best achieved with one or
more drinks. And in the tiringly overcrowded conditions of Maud-
heim, cut off as we were from civilization, under the constant pressure
of monotonous work, some opportunity must be provided for relaxa
tion such as a festive evening brings. The opportunities, generally
speaking, arrive of their own accord national festivals, birthdays
and holidays.

People will ask how we spent our free time, for instance in the
evenings. The answer is that the scientists hardly took any free time.
They seldom opened a book, and I have an idea that several of them
thought the rest of us frittered away our time. Nobody played cards.
Few made use of our well-stocked library. But every single evening
one little group collected in the cook s cubicle, and there they played
highly exciting games of "ludo."

The sledging expeditions for spring and summer were discussed and
prepared for all through the winter. The plans had to be reorganized
now that we had landed so far west. The men were very keen, and
they all wanted to penetrate as far east as possible. In my opinion
most of them were casting their nets too wide; and it was difficult to
get the schemes reduced to what my experience told me would be
reasonable limits of achievement. In any circumstances, it was a vast
undertaking they faced. Furthermore, the whole operation depended
on initial success in advancing the main depot a distance of between
100 and 200 miles up on the inland ice. Everything was rather uncer
tain at that time. I was in duty bound to think about safety for com
paratively inexperienced people. But it s no joke to have to act as a
brake on energetic young men. We spent several evenings discussing
the question, and at last the plans were brought within a workable
compass.

The original intention had been for the sledging parties to be com-

109

The White Desert

posed of two main groups, and for the various "sciences" to be divided
between the groups. For practical reasons this was altered, so that
the glaciologists worked as a team, with Melleby to assist. The other
party was composed of Roer, with Robin to assist, and both the geol
ogists Roots and Reece the R-party, we called it.

Early in July, the dogs were allocated to Roer, Roots, Reece, Schytt
&nd Melleby. Each dog driver led his own team, so that he could get
to know the animals. At the same time they began to practice driving
with the dogs.

Most of our dogs had really been broken in beforehand in different
regions of the earth, by drivers of varying efficiency and on systems
that varied too. The majority were used to the fan formation. Schytt
and Roer had not driven dogs before. All this had now to be prac
ticed in co-operation, and the work did not proceed altogether
smoothly. The best dog driver was the one who had the quietest and
steadiest and best trained leading dog. On the whole, it may be said
that history repeated itself the man learned more from the dog than
the dog from the man; and anyone who lost control of himself also
lost control of his team. Still, the main thing was that each of the men
had learned to manage his team fairly well before the journeys began.
After a while they were all proficient. But I wonder whether the
reader has ever imagined what it means to cut up hard frozen seal
meat for forty-three dogs? The hatchets split and the handles snapped.

The dogs got on quite well in the open air for the first winter.
Some of them we had to bring indoors when they changed into their
summer coats in June and July, and a special den was dug out for
them. Others had to be thawed out occasionally when the hair be
came matted and stiff with ice. On the whole, however, the dogs
were all right.

The puppies were a very definite feature of the Maudheim scene
during the first winter, just as young creatures of any kind always are
in every place, in proportion to their numbers. We had about twenty
of these crawlers. Amusing they certainly were, but a great nuisance.
To begin with, we used to keep them in a snow den, shut off, in the
corridor. Perhaps they were cooped up too close there. Their coats
were always more or less damp, and they lay on high drifts that

110

The Season of Darkness

steamed with white frost smoke. Sometimes the puppies were abso
lutely smoked out, and once we were even forced to bring in the
whole troop to dry them. There was a potent atmosphere of the day
nursery, and they were all far too vociferous and eager for mischief.
The experiment was never repeated.

Instead, we dug a small opening in the roof of the puppy den, for
the sake of ventilation. But however they managed it, the little dears
soon found their way out through the ventilator. Not all of them. The
rest, perhaps those that had served as a staircase, gave tongue with
even more vigor than Radio Moscow. This happened during the
night. The next morning the ventilator was enlarged to make a door
way; and thereupon we had to admit that the puppies had solved the
problem themselves. They throve wonderfully out in the open, and
went inside during stormy weather and on some nights only. Other
wise they exchanged news and views dog fashion on everything that
stuck up out of the snoweven on Gosta s radiation instruments,
which produced the most curious results.

The puppies also kept the camp clear of all movable objects, no
matter how valuable. They hunted in packs, and men in reindeer
moccasins were the funniest thing they had ever met. Taken all in
all, they were an entertaining nightmare. I do believe the only thing
they did not at least try to wipe out or remove was the ice shelf itself.
Later they began roving far and wide, and a couple of them dis
appeared in crevasses. Then I gave orders for them to be chained up.
A tragic moment, when so much untamed zest for life is shackled
without mercy.

The sun came up from the ice in the north. Warily he twinkled on
the skyline, threw us a short and sparkling glance and then went
down. But it had happened on July 26.

But winter could not permit such behavior. Our answering twinkle
had doubtless been too obvious. He whipped us with a forty-eight
hour storm, and for good measure gave us a temperature of minus
11 F. A pungent combination.

The sun has certainly begun to take an interest in us night-ridden
creatures. He comes back with an open glance. And never, I think,

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The White Desert

can any eye have boasted a loveliness so seductive as that of the sun
when he wakens from the winter sleep. It is just as though life were
leaping up in the old bodies and overflowing in the young.

The first long dark winter has been lived through, anyway, and
soon the sun will shine as of old. But the winter, and I mean our real
winter, is to last for a long time still.

Even for a veteran born in northern Norway, the advent of each
daylight season brings with it a sense of release. It is the same after
the dark season as after sleep some are alive and alert on the instant,
while others must take time to come awake properly. When the
whole space around you is contracted by darkness and no outlook
exists, then the spirit too becomes so hemmed in that the soul itself
often withers as though touched on the raw. Sometimes these sore
places grow excessively tender and perhaps inflamed by diabolical
art. The sole medicine is light. Some people, who ought to know,
have prescribed regular activity as a remedy. But work is only
prophylactic or numbing. Nothing but light can cure.

112

XIII
WE CRAWL OUT OF OUR WINTER LAIR

ONE DAY in August, Ekstrom was sitting on a packing case looking
quite sulky and scratching his head with a worried air. He seemed
to be in a thoroughly bad way, perhaps feeling ill.

What s the matter, Knalle?" asked Wilson.

"Spare parts!" Knalle sighed.

He was thinking of the weasels and of the depot journeys that drew
nearer as the days grew lighter and longer. The rest of us were think
ing of the same thing and of the sledging expeditions. It had been
settled that all field equipment must be ready by September 15, and
after that the weather would be the deciding factor. From that day
on the sledging party must, as it were, be ready at the starting post.
Much of the equipment had been put in order during the dark season.
But with daylight came, too, a feeling of restlessness. Enthusiasm
and expectancy mounted higher with each new day. Energy could
hardly have been any greater than it was; but it continued to find
vent for itself.

As was natural at this stage, work out of doors became increasingly
important for most members of the party. Practice with the dogs
went on at an intensive rate. Robin and Charles worked away for
days on end at the testing and adjustment of the seismic instruments.
Whenever the weather was fit, Roots and Reece drove down to Nor-
selbukta to study the structure in the ice front and the sea ice the
old bay ice and the young winter ice. Charles began the alignment of
the posts to see if parts of the ice shelf had shifted; but the mirage
above the level surface was so lively that the posts danced in the
theodolite.

113

The White Desert

To provide larger and more readily visible marks for tibeir aim,
they set up empty oil drums at the fixed points. But the mirage cre
ates the most fantastic optical illusions, even with an empty drum.
For instance, Gosta saw one of them at a temperature of minus 45F.
from different levels of the met mast on August 12. From the foot of
the mast one drum is seen quivering or shaking; from a height of six
feet there are two drums one above the other; from ten feet one sees
a high streak; from thirteen feet one drum suspended; from sixteen
feet no drum. But above sixteen feet one sees clearly quite an ordinary
drum away over the plain. To use a theodolite in such conditions
might almost be compared to shooting at a moving object.

At the end of August, Robin began a series of seismic measure
ments along a line from the sea ice to the hill to the southeast, approx
imately twenty-eight miles, at intervals of one and a quarter miles.
Swithinbank and Melleby helped, and they used a weasel. On Sep
tember 8, after two inactive days, they had pushed nearly nine miles
inland. For safety they had a tent and full field equipment with them
on these expeditions. Robin s plan was to camp finally at the foot of
the ice hill where the cracks increased, and then continue the investi
gations up the escarpment, using a dog team. On September 11 the
three of them drove inland to arrange this camp; but they were
forced to turn back by strong wind eddies from the glacier. This was
the first time we had confirmation of the meteorologists assumption
that wind conditions up the escarpment of the inland ice were alto
gether local. At Maudheim during this same period we had a breeze
and clear weather.

The next day Robin and Swithinbank drove off in the weasel, and
on the thirteenth Melleby and Wilson followed with the dog team.
These two returned on the sixteenth after a fine though cold trip. The
minimum temperature was minus 40F., and Wilson, for the first time
in history, had taken blood samples during a sledging expedition.
This was rather complicated, for on account of the frost he had to
carry the solutions inside his clothing and keep them with him in the
sleeping bag at night.

Robbie and Charles came back with the weasel next day. The
seismic findings had to be regarded as provisional. But in addition

114

We Crawl Out of Our Winter Lair

they had used the theodolite to measure the movements in the ice
shelf at the foot of the hill. These investigations continued several
days and throughout one night in the mile wide area of parallel
cracks measuring two-fifths of an inch across. It became apparent
that the whole vast ice shelf rises and falls with the tide more than
three feet. So in Maudheim we were actually more in motion than we
had suspected. As far as one knows, this was the first time such meas
urements had been carried out.

The plan already mentioned was to transport the main summer
depot by weasel some 100 to 200 miles up towards the mountains in
the south. Either one could send a reconnaissance party with dog
sledges inland as far as the mountains and wait with the weasels till
it came back or the weasels could be sent out with an escort of skiers
with or without a dog team. This escort must examine the terrain
ahead of the vehicles before the latter advanced. The first alternative
would certainly take a long time. On the other hand, we knew noth
ing about the terrain to the south, and a weasel caravan would run
the risk of reaching areas where there were cracks and steep drifts,
and would thus be compelled to make wide detours. In fact, it would
face the risk of a complete standstill. And fuel consumption for the
weasels was so high that their sphere of operation must be compara
tively restricted, especially if they had to haul along many tons of
useful load. Moreover, the condition of our weasels was rather pre
carious. We were obliged to make the depot trips as short and speedy
as we possibly could. We should have to make two journeys up to the
Advanced Base, provided that all three weasels kept going for the
whole time.

We therefore chose, as the only possibility open to us in the cir
cumstances, to reconnoiter and stake out the whole route beforehand
with dog sledges. Schytt undertook to lead the party, The best plan
would be to carry out this whole operation in two stages. The first
stage would be to transport a considerable depot for a distance of
from forty to sixty miles across the ice shelf, and farther up between
the ice hills so that the sledging party could start from there with
a full load. Smaller depots were to be laid along the way. This trans
port required two weasels, and the route must be inspected and staked

115

The White Desert

out beforehand. Roots and Reece volunteered for this latter task.

These two drove away from Maudheim on the morning of Septem
ber 8, each with his team of seven dogs. On the first day they covered
just over twenty-six miles, and camped a little way up the low rise
between the two ice hills. There they were weather bound for three
days and nights. On September 12 they continued their course farther
east-southeast, crossed the ridge and came down on the "eastern ice
shelf/ 7 The day after that they picked a site for our "departure depot,"
approximately forty-five miles from Maudheim, and inspected a
crevassed area along the edge of the ice shelf there. Then they began
the return journey, and put up posts with numbered flags at one-and-
a-quarter-mile intervals along the route to Maudheim. They were
back at the base September 14, after having driven in all approxi
mately ninety-seven miles.

We now had confirmation of the fact that the best way of starting
on a weasel expedition southward would be to reach the "departure
depot" inland and from there cross the eastern ice shelf (which, it was
assumed, covered an extensive bay), then continue farther up the
inland ice.

Everything was ready for the first depot journey on September 20;
but then there was stormy weather lasting several days. Rogstad and
Quar sent their first telephoto to Cape Town, and this created quite
a sensation at home.

The depot party drove off from Maudheim in two weasels at a
quarter to seven on the morning of September 25, and returned the
next morning at a quarter to six, without having slept or eaten a hot
meal during the trip. Those who went were: Roots (leader), Ekstrom,
Reece, Melleby and Quar. Each weasel had a load of nine hundred
pounds in addition to the passengers, and each of them towed a sledge
holding about two and a quarter tons. The weather was clear and
almost still, with temperature minus 20 F. The going was excel
lent, and the weasels took the load with ease.

Soon, however, one weasel began to give trouble, and its condition
became steadily worse in spite of Knalle s persevering treatment.
After twenty miles driving they had to stop to attend to the car
buretor. Fred wrote in the report that it made a great impression on

116

We Crawl Out of Our Winter Lair

him to watch Knalle working in the bitter cold without mittens, his
hands and wrists wet with gasoline and oil.

It was difficult to keep a steady course, owing to intense mirage,
shadows from the steep drifts and the swaying of the sledges. One
had to take compass bearings, and it was often quite impossible to
discover the guideposts, even with field glasses, before one was
almost on top of them. Some snow cairns, however, which Fred and
Alan had built during the previous journey, were visible at a dis
tance of close on two miles.

At about seven o clock that evening (G.M.T.) the sun disappeared,
when the party had traveled about thirty-four miles. Soon it was too
dark for the posts to be seen at all, and for the rest of the way they
took compass bearings. At 9:20 they came to a halt about forty-five
miles from Maudheim and established the depot there. Quar tried in
vain to contact Maudheim on the field radio, although a number of
other stations came through clearly.

The "departure depot" consisted of thirteen boxes of dog pemmi-
can ? eight boxes of sledging rations, nearly eight gallons of kerosine,
one field radio and eighty guideposts all for Valter s reconnaissance
party. In addition to this they deposited a box of provisions, three
and a half gallons of kerosine and about three hundred pounds of
dried fish as a permanent emergency depot. Finally, one of the wea
sel sledges was left behind to be driven on later with dog pemmican,
sledging provisions, gasoline, and nine hundred pounds of dried fish.

The party set out on the homeward journey at 10:45 that night. The
troublesome weasel was now going well; but presently the other one
began to pant, and this meant slow driving, On the top of the ridge
they met a slight gale that was entirely local, and the weasel tracks
were drifted over. At 1:45 a.m. on the twenty-sixth, a small road depot
of supplies and kerosine was laid twenty-five miles from Maudheim.
The whole way back Knalle was tinkering with the motors.

Hungry, covered in rime and frozen to the marrow, the party
reached Maudheim again after a pretty successful trip lasting exactly
twenty-three hours. The first thrust southward had been made, and
the conditions were now thoroughly advantageous for reconnaissance
journeys. In addition, Knalle had gleaned some very valuable experi-

117

The White Desert

ence with the weasels, which proved of the utmost importance for the
subsequent longer journeys. I should add that the party had with
them a complete field equipment with dog sledge, tent, stores, etc.,
for over a week s trip, though in the end these were not actually used.

A few hours after the weasel party s return home, Robin and Swith-
inbank set out with the third weasel to test the seismic instruments
well in on the rise between the two ice hills. They followed the staked
out route and returned three days later. For the whole time they had
rough weather with wind up to gale force; but otherwise this expedi
tion too was successful. A sounding on the rise, 1,050 feet above sea
level, indicated a layer of ice about 1,720 feet thick (that is, reaching
670 feet below sea level). And this seemed to open new perspectives
for the seismic researches.

Now we were able, with a very good conscience, to telegraph to
Professor Sverdrup that the late winter program was successfully
completed.

113

XIV
SOUTH WITH THE DOGS

THE Antarctic, a desert still untamed, treacherous and menacing, fro
zen and bare, glows and scintillates beneath the sun, but lies opaque
in mist a shadowy, amorphous blur when clouds and storm prevail.
One long summer day follows the one long night of winter in cease
less alternation through ice ages in thousands of years; yet neither
summer nor winter is ever present there. It stands like a glacier realm
of death, its pressure ramming in the pole of earth, a provocative
enigma. To the gazing eye it offers a vague, barren vision but to the
resolute spirit strong and ample nourishment. Here is a land of leg
end, yet without a myth.

Even here men seek for answers. For we wish to know all things, to
be able to say at all times that such and such a thing is so,

What is the use of it, then? Could we not live content without
knowledge of it? No, we cannot. The Antarctic is near. It is on our
own globe. It plays its own part in the daily course of things here.
Everything has its own weight in the balance of the earth.

Maudheim was a little bastion in this untracked region. From that
bastion now a handful of young men was about to venture forth in
quest of something farther still. By the time these words are read we
shall know the answers to a few more of our riddles.

The men responsible for carrying out a particular task manage it
best when they themselves have been able to thrash out the plans to
the last detail It takes time to discuss the details fully, but after that
they are all the easier to adjust. Valter and Fred had more experience
than I had in the matter of traveling on crevassed glaciers. I had only

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The White Desert

tramped over sea ice in my time, and learned what dangers are in
volved in such a journey. My own experience, together with as much
of the experiences of others as I was able to examine, was embodied
in the Norwegian equipment that had been provided for the men.
The British equipment was the outcome of the still wider experience
of the British. Alan was an efficient, accurate and reliable organizer
of sledging expeditions, intensely interested in the work. I think I am
safe in saying that it was these three in particular who worked out
the details. For all that, a superior inevitably has the final responsi
bility. But the credit for the enterprise must, nevertheless, be given
to those men who elaborated the plans and carried out the task.

When therefore I discussed with Valter and Fred, on October 1,
the final plans for the reconnaissance journeys, this was my duty
whether I wanted to or not, but more or less a matter of form, all the
same. I could only say then that they would come face to face with
problems as they went along, and these they must handle, with com
mon sense. They had been provided with the tools, the plans were
approved; now it was up to them to complete the task.

And they completed it.

It is my personal conviction that exploration in the south as in the
north ought to be based to the greatest possible extent on all the aids
that progress makes available and finances will allow. Obviously, air
craft ought to be used if one can afford it the larger the planes, the
better. Obviously, too, mechanical transport should be employed
weasels or tractors. Yet many a year will certainly pass before sledge
dogs have ceased to play their part in polar exploration. The moot
question of dog food versus gasoline therefore rests for the present
more on a basis of both /and than one of either/or. Finance is a final
argument here, as elsewhere. I hardly dare to think, for instance, how
much more we could have accomplished if only we had had aircraft
at our disposal at Maudheim. One day not too far hence, the first polar
expedition will set out with aircraft and mechanized transport only.
The next thing will be expeditions without vehicles, with nothing
but aircraft. I thank my Maker that I shall not live to see the day
when it will be no longer a question of dog food versus gasoline, but
of gasoline versus atomic power!

120

.,"-;>

s^/^"^ : ;* jf^-jJ;; ,jj

V alter Scbytt

Plate 7

Dogs in drifting snow
at one of the nunataks

Recce places a flag
to mark a dangerous
crevasse on the ice
shelf near the depar
ture depot, and about
50 miles from Maud-
heim, November,
1950.

IIP. Root \

Plate 8. Towards the mountains by clog sledge

South with the Dogs

These reflections carry us over the two blustery days at the begin
ning of October and the following two days of continuous fair
weather, with their rush of preparations for the reconnaissance
journey.

On October 5 we had one of our great days. I think it must always
feel like that for all the members of an expedition when some of their
companions start out on their first journey into the unknown. One has
an uneasy feeling of tension, in anticipation as it were, even if one be
lieves that all the equipment is good and the preparations have been
carried out in the best possible way; even if one has great faith in the
ability of one s companions to cope with the difficulties that must
come. In spite of all, a doubt besets one still, ever increasing as the
contours of the dog teams dwindle and vanish on the plain.

The men who went were full of elation, and the dogs wild with de
light and excitement. Departure has its tempestuous moments too.
The party was composed of Valter Schytt (leader), Fred Roots, Alan
Reece and Peter Melleby, with three teams of eight dogs each.
Weight per sledge was about eight hundred pounds, as from the
"departure depot." Nils Roer and Gordon Robin with one team were
to go with the party for the first week, to help with transport, espe
cially that of the dog food.

In Maudheim things were quiet by comparison after the sledging
party went off. The gale which came with the change in the moon was
winter s last fist shake down here on the coast, though later on even
the summer was to prove rather temperamental. For the weeks that
followed, however, we usually had light winds from the northeast
and many days of sunshine between whiles. The temperature re
turned to spring levels, between 5 and ]4F., and sometimes as low
as minus 4F. This was the spring, as far as it is to be found in these
latitudes.

Fortunately the sledging party s field radio was now functioning
so well that we could keep in touch with them every evening. This
was tremendously exciting for us. We heard about Roer s discovery
of "F0rstef jellet"; ("First Hill"); and the climax came when at last we
got Valter by telephone, exactly on the day when the party drove up

121

The White Desert

over the last short slope and saw spread out before them in a fabulous
panorama that vast world of mountains.

Now, too, our second radio picture went via Cape Town to Lon
dona new miracle, though rather less notable than the first.

Otherwise the days in Maudheim were spent in preparing for wea
sel journeys and in seal hunting down on the bay. This hunting was
carried on with the use of weasels. The seals (Weddell seals and a few
Ross seals) were usually close to the ice front of Pynten. They came
in very well as food both for men and dogs. Curiously enough, we saw
no young seals; but a few of the animals shot had milk in the udders.

The seals were extraordinarily fat. But the penguins were enter
taining. In flocks of several hundred these elegant "Emperors" came
to meet the weasels. They were most friendly and distinguished-
looking, inquisitive and at the same time well-mannered. They made
me think chiefly of a rather large group of gentlemen in "white tie
and tails" taking a country walk in winter. With almost Chinese po
liteness they bowed low to us, and then in the next moment they
would be flopping flat on their shirt fronts and shuffling off, with the
snow squirting up like spray from under their patent leather shoes.

Spring s first Skua was observed near Maudheim on October 16. A
single Skua does not make a spring; but even this black and voracious
bird did come from the open sea up north, and for a long time we
gazed after it.

On October 23 Robin and Roer returned. Each brought his own
stone the first two pieces of the real Queen Maud Land that were
ever handled. Robin and Roer had accompanied the party up to Octo
ber 15 and handed over 240 pounds of dog food. Then they drove
across to the nunatak 1 "F0rstefjellet" and climbed its "low" summit
the first men to set foot on solid land in this part of the Antarctic. Al
though "F0rstef jellet" rises only 500 feet above the inland ice, the ice
level here is 4,000 feet above sea level, so that is really something of
a mountain. This historic ascent was made on October 23, 1950, in
thick, driving snow. The sun only showed like a dim disc through the

i Nunatak-rocky crag projecting above the surface of a glacier or an ice shelf.

122

South with the Dogs

snow when Roer took his observation, and as Robin sat writing notes
his face was frostbitten.

November came in with the same work and the same weather. On
the sixth the temperature rose from minus 17F. to 16F., and be
tween the ninth and the thirteenth the winds were unremitting, from
stiff breeze to strong gale. I was rather anxious about the stock of
food and fuel for the sledging party, but hoped that the men had
been able to find the depots.

Early in the morning of November 15 the sledging party returned
bearded and weather-beaten, fit as fiddles and brimming over with
excitement as they told us of all they had seen and done. Yet the very
next day Fred Roots was drawing up his plan for the weasel journeys,
with detailed calculations of fuel consumption and so on. The wea
sels were ready; and during the days that followed, Alan s packing
cases with the thousand and one things for the "Advanced Base" were
hoisted on top of the drift and loaded on to the sledges.

The plan as outlined was that on this first journey the most essential
supplies for eight men (with fifty dogs) for eighty days effective field
work should be taken by weasel southwards to form the main depot.
The load would then consist only of sledging rations and kerosine, so
that before anything else a minimum of working days would be as
sured for the first season. If the journey went well, it would then be
possible to carry up enough on a second occasion to increase the sup
plies to the full complement. It was intended, moreover, that four
smaller depots should be established along the route.

The party for this expedition consisted of: Fred Roots (leader),
Bertil Ekstrom (responsible for the weasels), Peter Melleby, Charles
Swithinbank, Alan Reece and Gordon Robin.

The weasels started late in the evening of November 20, in still
weather under a sky that was covered with light clouds, with the
temperature at 25F. It was amazing to see how swiftly those great
quantities of heavy equipment crossed the expanse of snow and dis
appeared towards the southeast. The dogs gave their mechanical
competitors a deafening send off. I don t know whether their howls
were in protest or for joy that they themselves had escaped having to
struggle along with all that stuff.

123

The White Desert

While the first sledging party was making its way southward,
Valter Sehytt took the opportunity to make a report on the first sledg
ing expedition to the interior of Queen Maud Land, from which I

quote:

"According to the general plan of campaign, the sledging party was
to have a sphere of operation covering about 190 miles. In other
words, we would reckon with a fair degree of certainty on the possi
bility of reaching the Hegulakette fRegula Chain ) which the Ger
man map marks as being the nearest mountain massif south of
Maudheim.

"On the first night we drove across what I will call the Maudheim
ice shelf/ but about noon on the second day the upward slope began.
The wind had risen and the snow driving full in our faces made prog
ress very laborious. One man skied ahead to guide the dogs, but visi
bility was so poor that we really ran the risk of losing contact with
one another. Then we camped with the wind blowing at from forty
to forty-five miles an hour; but the next day the fine weather returned.

"We then drove up a rise about 1,000 feet above sea level and
looked eastward over the vast ice shelf which Roots and Reece had
found about a month earlier. Late that evening we reached the depot
which had been laid there earlier by weasel.

"Bad weather forced us to remain over a day at the depot; on Octo
ber 9 we were able to drive on. The weather was fine, visibility ex
cellent, and when we stopped for lunch Roer took out his field
glasses. He shouted to us that he could see mountains. Out came all
the other binoculars, and far away towards the horizon we sighted a
rock face. We took a compass bearing. But it didn t agree. Then the
German maps must be so far out that their western areas, for instance
the Regulakette/ were about sixty-two miles farther west than the
maps indicated. We could ask many questions, but so far we had few
answers to them.

"Then for the next day and a half we were still traveling across the
thirty-mile wide ice shelf, after which we began to drive up the rather
steep inland ice beyond. Our loads were heavy and the snow was so
hard and smooth that the dogs had a struggle to keep their foothold.

"We had a magnificent view from where we now were camped,

124

South with the Dogs

about 800 feet above sea level and 650 feet above the ice shelf. The
broad shelf lay below us like an icebound ocean bay, framed in hills
of ice smoothly outlined in white.

The next day we pushed on up and up, nearer and nearer to the
ridge which we knew must be there, though it seemed intent on evad
ing us; and presently a mist came up. When it had cleared we found
that at least we had reached the first step on the stairway towards the
south. There was Roer s *F0rstef jell nunatak, and it had grown con
siderably since we had last seen it. It had gained a neighbor just to the
south, and farther south again the glasses showed us a couple of small
peaks rising above the vast expanse of white. It was not much that we
had found, only a few quite small nunataks; but anyhow it was firm
ground and the first real land we had seen down here.

"For two days we drove on over a gradual incline of billowy ice.
Six days after the start from the weasel depot we had eaten so much
of the food that the sledges were relieved of their loads, and Roer
and Robin were able to return, leaving behind with us as much as
they could spare of their dog food. On October 15 we said good by.
Those two went to F0rstef jell, and the main party drove steadily on
southeastward.

"We had heavy going on the steep, smooth incline, and gained only
a few miles that day; then we were weather-bound for fully forty-
eight hours. On October 18, however, we were able to push on again
in fine weather, toiling up and up towards ever fresh horizons, always
hoping, as we approached a new summit, to see at last the mountains
behind it. But every time the same icebound expanse met our gaze.

"Then a gale kept us pinned in the tents again for thirty-six hours;
we were full of impatience and took advantage of the first sign of a
clearance, on the afternoon of the twentieth, to press forward. At
about half -past five we were close to the summit of a new rise, ap
proximately 5,000 feet above sea level. And suddenly it all happened
as we drove over the crest the whole magical landscape opened out
before us like a f aiiy tale told in a few short moments. The mountains
were there indeedhigh, pointed peaks, long ridges, sharp crests,
massive mountain groups, some of them snow covered and others
black, completely surrounded by the smooth white inland ice and set

125

The White Desert

against the background of a sky darkened by clouds of a bluish gray.

"The scene was infused with a luminous radiance that gave a spec
tacular effect to the whole.

"We could see mountains rising above the ice all along the skyline
from 75 to 175 degrees in the compass. The western limit of the moun
tain chain seemed to stretch almost in a straight line running north
and south. We estimated the distance to that point at about thirty
miles. It was, of course, difficult to come to any conclusion about the
altitude of the moxmtains, but the highest of them looked as if they
would be between 2,000 and 2,500 feet above the ice level.

"After one more day spent lying up in bad weather, we pressed on
towards our goal. A little to the right of our course and close to the
rim of the mountain range stood a small pyramidal nunatak. We
christened it Pyramided ( the Pyramid ) before we reached it. We
all thought that the position of Pyramiden was very favorable as
a site for our "advanced base," and it looked as though we could make
our way to it with ease, until we drove straight into an area of cre
vasses, and Alan suddenly found two of his dogs hanging by their har
ness. He hauled them up, but of course we had to stop and examine
the ground thoroughly. We found that there were dangerous crevasse
areas both to right and left of us. The route had to be reconnoitered
with care, particularly on account of the heavily laden weasels that
were to drive up here later.

"In our explorations we came to a rocky hill which we found irre
sistible. The last time we had felt firm ground under our feet had
been in Cape Town in December, and now it was October. How won
derful it was to bask in the hot sun! Even the rock felt warm, and
birds had left their traces all around. The geologist Fred was like a
calf let loose in a springtime pasture. Rock, after all, is his chosen
work and his passion; and until that day his only treasure trove had
been a few pebbles from the stomach of a penguin. But for all our
searching we could not find even one single tiny fossil.

"What we did find was a route that could be used for reaching
Pyramiden, and we took a bearing, which told us our exact position.
But we failed to identify the mountains on the German outline map,
and in this were equally unsuccessful later on. On the other hand, we

126

South with the Dogs

recognized some of the mountains from the German air photographs.

"The next day we ascended Pyramiden, which is about 650 feet
high, with a kind of stairway formation up the rock. Flag number one
was planted at the bottom on a level area of snow. We had brought
with us 150 bamboo rods, each having a numbered flag, and with these
we were to stake out the homeward route. Our position was 72 16.2
south 3 48.8 west, and we were 190 miles from Maudheim.

We began the homeward journey at once, despite the temptation
to stay for closer study of conditions in the region. In cases like this
the deciding factor must be the amount of the food for men and dogs
in the sledging party; we dared not take any risks. The weather
smiled on us during several days of sunshine and we made good
headway. A flag was placed at every mile along the route and beside
each one we built a snow cairn between six and eight feet high. When
visibility was good they could be seen from six to nine miles off. This
building of cairns was no small matter; approximately one thousand
pounds of snow went to each, and we built in all 138 cairns between
Pyramiden and Maudheim. This means that we cut out and lifted
about seventy tons of snow blocks.

"On Saturday the twenty-eighth the fine weather broke. The sky
was clouding over by noon, and after that we were stormbound up
there on the ice plateau for six whole days, at an altitude of 4,600
feet, high up among the clouds.

"Now for the first time on the trip we began to watch rather care
fully the ratio existing between the number of days provided for in
our rations and the number of days our journey would still last. The
kerosine cans were becoming unpleasantly light, and we had to cut
out all heating of the tents.

"No blizzard lasts for ever. On November 4 we shoveled ourselves
out, hauled up the sledges and went on our way. The weather stayed
fine for days and we pressed forward, covering longer mileages. On
we traveled- built cairns went on again. On November 8 we were
back at the weasel depot with our rations down to the minimum.
Now a way had still to be found for the weasels across an area of dan
gerous crevasses at the edge of the ice shelf; but first of all we ate a
hearty meal of real food.

127

The White Desert

"The following evening we started on the last lap, when we had
found a way across the ice shelf comparatively free of crevasses.
Most of the large crevasses we could avoid, but some of them would
have to be crossed on snow bridges. We guessed their width at be
tween ten and thirteen feet; but the bridges seemed to be strong
enough even for a two-ton weasel with a heavily laden sledge in tow.
"After all, our journey was not so near its end as we had thought.
About twelve miles beyond the depot we were again stuck fast in the
storm and this when in overoptimism we had taken only the smallest
amount of food from the depot, to avoid depleting the stock there.
Soon we were on very small meals, at longer intervals.

"There was, however, a food depot about eight miles nearer to
Maudheim, and one day hunger kept us driving through the storm
for over four miles, so that we were at least approaching that goal.
"The fourteenth of November brought back sunshine and calm
weather. By this time we were reduced to ten biscuits for the four of
us, and with the eagerness of hungry men we went rushing off to look
for our depot Sure enough, it was there. We raced across the drifts
to find in one box a nine-pound roll of smoked ham gleaming with
rich fat. Under it there was butter and bread and cheese. That was a
wonderful morning. Now it was easy going for the twenty-five miles
on to Maudheim. We were soon back, and we found our combined
weight was sixteen pounds less than when we started out. But our
task had been carried through a safe weasel route had been found
and staked out for 190 miles inland to the mountains. It took us forty-
two days of which twelve whole and four half days were spent lying
up. Now the weasels could set out with the summer depots. On our
journey we had also had chances to test the equipment and provisions
which we should need during the summer, and we could look forward
to the field work with confidence and high hopes."

128

XV
THE WEASELS ADVANCE THE DEPOTS

THE WEASELS were on their way southward! At Maudheim once
more excitement was at its heightnot now to be prolonged as dur
ing the sledging party s journey, but tense and potent by comparison.
Our knowledge of dogs was great but of weasels exceedingly small;
so much might happen now, and so much depended on this depot
transport. As I wrote in my diary, we were now at one of the most
significant stages in the expedition s history. Yet those same words are
very often to be found in my diaries, now that I look at them after the
events. During most of those two years we were living through an
almost unbroken series of excitements.

Nevertheless, hardly any occasion during the months in Maud
heim saw us all so tense with excitement as we were while the wea
sels were out on their first long journey. We followed the weather
charts and hung over the radio each evening.

During this period there was a special cause for fresh excitement
the knowledge that Norsel was on her way down to us. Professor
Sverdrup was leading the expedition, we were told, but Professor
Ahlmann, now in Oslo as Swedish Ambassador, was not coming.
Larry Kirwan was not there either, and this came as a fresh dis
appointment; but Dr. Brian Roberts was on board. Captain Guttorm
Jakobsen was once more on the bridge, and his brother Tor was with
the engines, together with the Flensburg expert, Max. Just now, in
deed, we were hearing more from Norway than from the weasel
party. Norsel was coming with friends and others known or unknown
to us, with fresh supplies in the hold and aircraft on deck. At times
we could even hear that Guttorm was in touch with Bergen Radio.

Throughout the November days with their light winds the sun was
melting down a good deal of the drift surface. It looked just as if the

129

The White Desert

frost were smoking out of the snow above the base. Rays of light
penetrated through the layer of snow and warmed the roof of the
houses and corridors, with the result that the roofs began and con
tinued to drip. Little did I dream what a deluge was to come. At
the same time the snow masses loosened, weighing down the tar
paulin roofs and crushing the box-built walls so that they collapsed.
We had to set to on an extensive strengthening operation all through
the corridor system, shoring up the roofs with boards and drums. I
had certainly underestimated the weight of the snow. It meant
plenty of hard work, but we managed to hold the snow in check.

Presently the whale catchers were on the various whaling grounds
away out at sea. We heard them on the radio. It made us feel that we
were no longer so entirely alone.

On November 22 I had a long telephone conversation with my
friend Captain Thorvald Hansen on Thorsh0vdi, and eagerly ex
changed news. Questions simply rained out of the loudspeaker: it
was obvious that even these polar addicts could not take in the fact
that we were living on ice ? and ice only.

November 28: southwest fresh breeze to slight gale, sky overcast
and some driving snow, temperature 23 to 21 F.

In spite of this the weasel party arrived back at 8:15 that evening
hungry, tired, and wet to the skin. They had driven 130 miles that
day. We really had not expected them in such weather, and nobody
was out to meet them. They simply crashed in through the door all
of a sudden and demanded coffee and food.

I was given an enormous rock from Pyramiden. But it weighed lit
tle in comparison with the stone that fell from my heavy-laden heart.
Fred talked quietly about the trip. Knalle was tired out and yawning.
But Robbie s black eyes flashed with enthusiasm. He was full of his
tale of wonderful possibilities a seismic station about forty-five miles
from the edge of the eastern shelf (the shore line, as we thought then)
had indicated, from 2,800 feet above sea level, a depth of ice to base
rock of about 3,300 feet. And another station, about four miles from
the Advanced Base (182 miles from Maudheim) showed a depth of
Ice of about 4,000 feet from a height above sea level of 4,200 feet.

The conclusion was obvious, and I sat staring into Robbie s spgtrk-

130

The Weasels Advance the Depots

ling eyes fjords and deep valleys under this inland ice! Perhaps a
fjord landscape like that of our western coasts. We had allowed for
an evenly rising plateau. Yes, and why not?

Robbie just said: "Give me the chance, and I shall try to find out."
There and then I swore he should make the attempt next summer, as-
far as it lay within my power to help him. I said so too, looking at the
little Australian.

"That will certainly do for me," said he very quietly. And this was
the beginning of Gordon Robin s sensational discoveries in 1951-52.

The very next day a discussion began on yet another weasel jour
ney southward. It was true that full provision had now been made
for the summer s work in the interior, but only for eighty days. The
men wanted to have supplies for a hundred days. In addition, it
would be necessary to prepare instruments and reserve equipment
of many kinds as well as whale meat and blubber for the dogs. This
next possibility was being so eagerly discussed that I almost had to
remove Fred by force in order to get his report on the first weasel
journey and here it is:

"Each of the three weasels had a load of about half a ton of sup
plies in addition to the driver, one passenger and some camping
equipment. Also it hauled a large sledge with about two and a quar
ter tons of equipment. Two of these sledges had as well a lightly
loaded dog-sledge in tow. Thus the total load was a good deal more
than we had been advised to carry before our departure from home.

"Responsibility for the vehicles, however, lay with the mechanical
genius of the expedition, Bertil Ekstrom, and when he passed the
load the other members were prepared to take the chance.

"The journey over die first ice shelf was straightforward, A halt
was made at the depot where the reconnaissance party some time
before had made drastic inroads on the food stocks, and new supplies
were laid up here. Then the party went on over the hill to the pre
viously mentioned main depot behind the rise to the south, arriving
there on the morning of November 21. They made their camp there,
as it was easier to drive during the evening and night, when the light
was best for discovering the snow cairns at a distance. . . ."

From the depot they were to drive on to the eastern ice shelf, and

131

The White Desert

Schytt had already mentioned that along the shore line there it
would be necessary to cross a zone of difficult crevasses, which was
several miles wide. The sledging party had marked off a practicable,
if not absolutely safe, route across this area. It is one thing to make
headway over ground of this kind with light dog sledges, but an en
tirely different matter to drive through it with such heavily laden
weasels. This operation was both dangerous and exciting, and Fred
gives the following description of the crevasse area:

"First there were fifteen crevasses running parallel with the shore/
The majority of them moved when the shelf rose or fell with the tide.
They were easy to discover, because the snow above them was always
cracked. Sometimes the ice could be heard creaking and chafing in
the abyss. Roughly half the number of crevasses were about two feet
wide at the surface, but many of them widened out underneath, and
despite much digging it might be quite impossible to decide whether
one was faced by two narrow cracks or one very wide crevasse, with
a treacherous suspension bridge across it. The rest of the crevasses
were up to ten feet in width, and the bridges at least appeared strong.

"The party entered this rather sinister area about noon the same
day, The passengers were sent ahead on skis to investigate the route
in detail in so far as this proved possible. They had to go very slowly,
for it was their task to find the narrowest crossings. A chill westerly
breeze whipped a stinging drift snow up to knee height.

"The reconnaissance passed off without mishap, and our glaciolo-
gist, Charles Swithinbank, drove the first weasel across the crevasses.
We considered such a pioneer drive extremely dangerous, but the
good Charles had prepared for all eventualities. On his machine he
had devised a curious steering contrivance of spikes and rope, so that
with long reins he was in fact able to steer the vehicle from where he
skied along in the rear of the loaded sledge.

"Everything went splendidly over the critical area, but then the
weasel broke free from its driver and proceeded on its own account,
and quite blindly, across a very wide crevasse with an unusually
sagging bridge. Lucidly this held. Charles got hold of the reins again
and steered the runaway machine on to safe ground. After that the
rest of the caravan crossed."

132

The Weasels Advance the Depots

Worse surprises, however, lay ahead. The safe ground extended
for only about two hundred and twenty yards, and then the party
found themselves in a new zone of many large crevasses, which was
just over half a mile wide. Here the crevasses were different in char
acter. They did not run at all regularly on a line with the "shore." In
many places it was impossible to discover them before one suddenly
came to a gaping hole up to twenty feet wide, a hundred feet long
and fifty feet deep. Where some of the crevasses continued in under
the snow cover it could be seen that the bridges were indeed both
thick and solid out in the center, but along the edges they were so
thin that it was hard to understand what kept them suspended.

Finally, however, a sort of crooked "corridor" through the area was
found, but in places it was barely a hundred yards wide. One sledge
runner suddenly broke through the cover and the load slipped side
ways. Fortunately the crevasse was narrow not more than thirty
inches across. But the sledge was stuck fast. Two weasels failed to
move it. The sledge had to be relieved of its load before it could be
dragged on to firm ice. Then they drove on another hundred yards,
and the same thing happened with the same sledge. Another
reloading!

It cost the party about ten hours to make their way across a five-
mile stretch. But then they were over the worst and speed was in
creased. Now one of the fan belts gave way after nearly four miles of
driving. Whereupon Fred gave orders to camp. Knalle had to work
on repairs all that night.

The journey across the ice shelf came to an end during the after
noon of November 22. The "shore line" on the other side was
crevasse-free, and now the long ascent of the inland ice began.
Depots were laid all along this route at certain intervals. Robin s ex
periments with depth soundings on this trip showed promising results.

The weasels climbed and climbed from crest to crest as the sledg
ing party had done earlier in the spring, but much faster. F0rstef jell
nunatak was passed; the party simply drove on. And just before mid
night on November 23 they crested the last rise. Before them lay the
tableland with the whole panorama of mountains.

The oil feed in one of the weasels had been troublesome for a

133

The White Desert

while, and when once the men were across the plain it was necessary
to make their camp so that Knalle could start on repairs only five
miles from Pyramiden and the final goal. Charles, however, had no
intention of being held up: he forged ahead with his vehicle, and at
about eight o clock on the morning of November 24 the first load of
supplies was laid in position at the Advanced Base.

It was a foregone conclusion that the event must be celebrated
and by what better means than driving the weasel all the way to
Pyramiden? But let Fred give the description himself:

"The weasel was driven right on to the rocks of Queen Maud Land,
in a grand pageant with the flag flying, a large surveying parasol over
the passengers, and a thermos of hot chocolate providing the toasts.
Then everyone returned to camp and all was quiet by midday."

During the afternoon and evening each one could follow his own
inclinations to a greater or lesser extent, whether he was a mechanic,
seismologist, photographer or geologist. The remainder of the equip
ment was driven up to the depot, and Pyramiden was climbed for
the second time since the Creation.

Roots, the mountain dweller from the Rockies in British Columbia,
does not say much on the subject of his own feelings as he stood on
the summit of Pyramiden and gazed away over the vast domain of
snow and barren rock. It is first and foremost the geologist speaking
when he describes the actual summit where he stands: "A flat bed of
red-brown mudstone, covered with ripple marks and mud cracks as
if the tide had just receded, and testifying that this ice-shrouded
region had once enjoyed a warmer, perhaps semidesert climate. . . .
Despite the gusty wind, at times of gale force, on the summit of the
nunatak, the scene was peaceful, and perhaps typical of that en
trancing quality of Antarctica the combination of serenity and
space, the furious storms, beautiful scenery and treacherous country
that blends harmoniously to make a land which is completely in
different to human activities and yet possesses an almost irresistible
attraction for many men."

But the wind increased late in the morning of November 25, and
the driving snow reduced visibility to a few hundred yards. It was
not until late afternoon that the homeward journey could begin.

134

The Weasels Advance the Depots

With empty sledges they made a good pace, and across the snow
plain this became twenty or more miles an hour. For the passengers,
however, the drive back was not necessarily more comfortable, as
the weasels bounded and hopped across the drifts like racing yachts
in a heavy sea.

The weasel party, as I said, was hardly back in Maudheim before
its members and the rest began discussing the possibilities for another
journey. Ekstrom had to make the decision. Could the weasels man
age it? Knalle noddedand the order was given.

If this transport was successful too, we should have about nine
tons of supplies at the Advanced Base. The depot thus comprised
sledging rations, dog food and kerosine sufficient for eight men and
fifty dogs for a hundred days while on the move and for fifteen days
at the depot itself. In addition there would be considerable reserve
stores of ordinary tinned food and so on, as well as adequate reserves
of tents, dog sledges, Primuses and such things, together with spare
parts, tools and an ample stock of drugs and medical equipment. All
the gear for surveying and for glaciological and geological researches
would also be driven forward, and provisions for the return journey
to Maudheim would be ensured by depots in seven places.

Those in the party were: Roots, leader; Ekstrom, responsible for
the weasels; Swithinbank, driver and radio man; Snarby, the cook,
assistant and reserve driver. Robin and Liljequist were to go with
the party for the first ninety miles or so, to occupy seismic stations on
the inland ice while the others were in the south. They started off in
brilliant sunshine and temperature of 23F. on December 4, and re
turned on the eighth without any special adventure to report. The
summer work was now safely provided for, and on a scale greatly
exceeding that of the original plans.

But all the same, when the last depot journey had been made,
Knalle announced that now both the tracks and the engines of the
weasels were past work. I could barely count on using the weasels
for discharging Norsel when she returned. After that every part
would have to be renewed.

Day after day we followed Norsel where she rolled and pitched on
her southward course; but Guttorm could not hear us. On Decem-

135

The White Desert

ber 5 the ship crossed the equator again and we were quite tempted
to express our fellow-feeling in a ducking party of our own.

Norsel, by the way, was bringing an addition to the Maudheim
wintering party. Schytt had planned to make borings far up the ice-
hill to the southeast during the coming winter, and for this purpose
the large boring machine would have to be moved over there. A new
hut for the machine, made in sections, was coming from Sweden;
and Schytt needed the assistance of a third man.

The young Australian physicist John Jelbart was coming, to act at
the same time as observer for his government. He had already spent
a year on Heard Island, and he had been chosen by our friend of
1950, Phil Law.

Another new man was the cook Bjarne Lorentzen from L0dingen
in northern Norway, who was to take John Snarby s place.

About the turn of the month we had a wonderful spell of sunshine,
with daytime temperatures practically above freezing point. There
was almost a hint of Easter in the air, even leading one on to vague
dreams of summertime, to a yearning for home and all that it meant.
How little we knew what the immediate future was to bring!

136

XVI

BY DOG SLEDGE TO THE MOUNTAINS

"Ix s SNOWING outside! Really properly snowing! Summer has come
at last!"

It was Ove, white as a snow man, shouting in to us. And this was
a day at the beginning of December the month corresponding to
June at home.

We shoveled away the snow from the roof of the radio house and
covered the worst part with heavy tarred paper, and this made a
difference. We erected large ventilators, fitted with lids, at several
points in the passages, but that was no good. The drift went on sink
ing. In some places it was so heavy that even the shoring of iron
drums was crushed in. For the rest, I only knew that conditions would
grow worse and wetter as the summer advanced. But all the same, we
stationary Maudheim dwellers began to look forward to days of real
sunshine, when we could drink coffee and tan ourselves out on the
roof. High summer might well be something like Easter at home. At
least so we thought. And we should live out of doors, drink in sun
shine and gather strength for a new winter. When the sledging parties
had driven away we should have a quite peaceful summer camp, in
a sense. Roer took a snow bath in the sunshine on December 7. That
was a harbinger of good times to come.

The "sledging boys" were indefatigable in preparing for the long
journeys. They hardly had time for sleep. The whole base was caught
up in a whirl of activity, and the electric generator was kept going
till far into the night. It was essential to start out at the earliest pos
sible moment, for the Antarctic summer is short indeed.

Snarby went seal hunting down on the bay every single day when
the weather was reasonably good. This sport is a passion with him,

137

The White Desert

and, besides, he enjoyed looking out to sea. He had, of course, de
cided some time before this to go home in the Norsel, so that no doubt
he felt strangely restless. One day twenty-two seals were shot, and
before Christinas we had gathered in over seventy. This meant that
our requirements for the following winter were covered.

At the last moment it turned out that Roots and Reece s sledges
were in a poor state. They had to transfer to the heavier but stronger
Norwegian sledges of hickory; and never, I dare say, have sledges
been mounted at such a speed. Four men finished off one sledge a
day, and that is really an achievement.

The glaciological party set out on December 18 at midnight, on
crisp, hard-frozen snow. They were Schytt and Wilson with one
team (ten dogs) and a tent. Swithinbank and Melleby had the other
team (ten dogs) and were to share the second tent. The start was
almost free from incident.

The next day the R-party went off Roots, Roer, Robin and Reece,
the geological and surveying group who were to work together. Rob
bie had agreed to act as Roer s assistant for the first summer in return
for being given a free hand and help with the seismic work the fol
lowing year. The geologists also were to help Nils. I appointed Roots
leader of the party on account of his experience in ice climbing. Fred
and Allen each had his own team of ten dogs. Nils drove with seven,
and then there was Robbie with his miniature sledge, mounted on
ordinary skis, with the garrulous old "Patches" and two lively young
dogs in front Robbie s sledge looked like a seaman s kitbag on run
ners. Over it waved the flag of the Royal Harwich Yacht Club with its
gold lion on a blue ground an exclusive standard with honorable
traditions in the polar regions. When the three main teams had strug
gled off rather laboriously, Robbie shouted "Mush!" and whizzed off
like a bullet in absolutely perfect style. Then swinging wide he hob
bled over the drifts, towed by his miniature team.

We had now almost come to the anniversary of our arrival in Cape
Town. A year! We told one another that the time had passed quickly.
But time does not put on speed, it only seems to now and then.

Daily life on a lonely winter station is made up chiefly of work.

138

By Dog Sledge to the Mountains

But apart from the fact that we tried, with varying degrees of success,
to sleep, we also had meals three times a day. We were in radio com
munication with a great many ships in the South Atlantic and in
contact with radio amateurs from Africa to the U.S. A. and from Ski
to Foss. They always asked us: "What are you going to have for
dinner today?"

We had with us tons of excellent Swedish and Norwegian canned
foods mutton in cabbage, pea soup, black pudding, meat balls and
rissoles, fish of various kinds, cod s roe, sardines and spiced herring.
But if I had foreseen that the whale meat from Thorshfivdi was going
to be ruined, the mutton nearly all spoiled on the journey through the
tropics, and even the salt fish ruined in the barrels, then I would cer
tainly have gone in for a much greater variety of canned foods.

We had salt pork and smoked pork, cod and stockfish, and some
pickled herring not altogether cooked in the tropics.

Then we had all sorts of flour and cereals, crispbread and "flat-
brod" (bannock), peas and beans, tea, coffee, butter and cheese un-
rationed. And there was milk in all possible forms of concentration;
there were dried vegetables from A to Z, with vitamins from A to about
K; fresh potatoes, onions and lemons kept splendidly in the local
refrigerating chamber.

Of course we had quantities of jam and marmalade, honey, canned
and dried fruits, fruit drinks and preserved puddings. But though
all this was very good and we were most adequately supplied with
calories and vitamins and minerals, there is no denying that the menu
was dull in the long run.

On the whole, we rather went off our feed, though this was def
initely not Snarby s fault; and it was a great help when we came by
some seal meat and liver in the late spring.

Certain it is, however, that we fellows down at the base lived in
luxury compared with the sledging folk on their journeys. They got
pemmican as their main dish and oatmeal porridge as their pudding.
Don t ask me what pemmican is. Originally it was the Indians* dried
buffalo meat with fat. Today the word denotes all sorts of substances
which may be stirred up into a stiff mush a mush which provides a
food principally used by polar explorers and soldiers on operations.

139

The White Desert

As for the taste, pemmican can be anything between the almost en
tirely insipid and the quite unpalatable. Ours was good.

On the matter of our times for meals in Maudheim, we were far
from orthodox, at least so far as breakfast was concerned. At an
early stage we made an official arrangement that breakfast should be
on the table between eight and ten or thereabouts. The rule was ob
served; but this does not mean that everyone turned up for breakfast
while it was still on the table. Obviously this was my fault. Most other
polar explorers I have met or read about made a point of appearing
punctually for all meals, so that by their example they might en
courage punctuality in the rest of the party.

It is perhaps right to insist upon such punctuality in one s com
panions (and oneself) when each man has his own restful and com
paratively noiseless cubicle or separate room, where he has a chance
of keeping up the natural daily rhythm to which he is accustomed.
But in Maudheim we sleepless ones had no such chance; and this
was particularly the case in the radio house, which was busy from
half -past six in the morning till past midnight throughout those two
years. Thus for some of us the working day was dislocated, in the
winter months especially, when the whole party was at the base, and
the noise was therefore greatest. But in any case one had a long
enough day, and the work was done; that was the main thing, after
all.

The time for the Swedish-Norwegian dinner or the British lunch
had perforce to be varied according to the seasons, though not much.
But during the dark season, when it was a question of making the ut
most possible use of the daylight for work out of doors, we usually
had our main meal at three, otherwise at two o clock.

After some time we did reach the point of taking that summer of
1950-51 as a joke. We had looked forward to it with such great ex
pectations; in reality, it was the most miserable patch I have ex
perienced in all my long life.

The beginning of it all was that the damp drifting snow of sum
mer glued up every one of the ventilators or outlets we had. We dug
them open again and raised them. The storm packed them up close
once more and spread fresh layers of snow over them.

140

By Dog Sledge to the Mountains

In the corridors the water from melting snow came streaming
down and froze to ice on the floor and over the packing cases and
gear. The air out there was a damp, nauseating mist of steam and
engine fumes. And the engine had to be working all day and far into
the night for the radio. We just could not get the horrible stuff out
and pure air in.

We celebrated a sort of Christmas with lots of greetings from home;
but there was a listless atmosphere and the cook was sick.

Now it always happens that if a handful of men arrive at the
stage of feeling more and more fagged as the days go on, each one of
them keeps his troubles to himself, so that they are not mentioned in
general talk. Each man thinks that he is the only one who is feeling
low.

I was busy trying to dig a doorway toward the southeast, and
felt so utterly wretched that I thought I should have to ask Sverdrup
to let me go home. But then Snarby was in bed with a high tempera
ture after Christmas, and one day it came out that we were all at the
end of our tether. In the middle of all this, each one in turn went
down with food poisoning.

Snarby was seriously ill, with a racking headache and fever. For
over a week he could not keep down either food or drink. I had to
consult Dr. Axel Aubert in Oslo, and on his advice I gave Snarby
penicillin injections, Eventually he managed some teaspoonfuls of
water, and after this his condition improved.

The rest of us were without energy, feeble and slack. The slightest
exertion was an effort demanding strength of will. We were sleepless
for nights and days on end.

That it was carbon-monoxide poisoning from the motor hut which
was knocking us out is beyond question. Up to a certain point the
poison worked stealthily and slowly. Melleby and several others had
at times complained of a slack feeling long before the sledging
parties went off. It was not until the bad weather period set in after
Christmas that we realized what was wrong; but then we simply
could not manage to do more than we did with all the wet snow piling

over us.
It is understandable, then, that spirits in Maudheim were not on a

141

The White Desert

particularly high level between Christmas and New Year. Radio
conditions were also poor, and we heard not a sound from the sledging
parties. Communication with Bergen Radio was kept up all the time
via Thorshfivdi. We did hear Norsel, too, and she was making a
straight course for Maudheim.

Quite frankly, I awaited NorseTs arrival with mixed feelings. Nor
mally the ship s call in the summer is the greatest event of title year
at any polar station with mail and fresh people, with news and
celebrations. We had naturally looked forward with joyful anticipa
tion to seeing everyone again Professor Sverdrup, Captain Guttorm,
Dr. Roberts, Tor the engineer, and all the others. But as things ac
tually were, we felt hardly in a fit condition to face the great event
We had an uneasy feeling that the people who were coming would
be quite scared by our present plight

The gales of midsummer began in earnest on December 30. Thick
driving snow bore down upon us from the northeast, and 1950 went
out in a roar. On the first day of the new year the weather demons
paused for breath; but on the second they came rushing along with
a din that persisted for six days and nights. Norsel indeed was no bet
ter off than we. That evening I managed to have a long telephone
conversation with Sverdrup and Captain Guttorm, They were hove
to north of us at 66 in heavy ice and blizzard.

January 3: Steady cold breeze with snow from the northeast. No
radio communication. Cook fit again.

January 4: Storm by night, strong cold breeze by day, thick and
mushy driving snow as before. Norsel reports at 9 p.m. that they are
beset in heavy pack ice in latitude 67.1 south, 11.5 west,

January 5: Continuing northeasterly stiff breeze to storm, thick
driving snow. The ship is free again and moving southwest in heavy
ice. The sledging parties do not reply. They must certainly be having
a hell of a time in this infernal weather! ( Later it turned out that they
had had fine weather inland. )

January 6: Stiff breeze, but a little lighter well on in the day. More
snow in one week than in the whole course of the winter up to now.
Norsel does not reply; but, of course, she still has much heavy going
before she can get in here. The weather seems to be improving towards

142

By Dog Sledge to the Mountains

evening, and we must make efforts to dig ourselves out and let in a
scrap of fresh air. It s not so simple as it sounds; no sooner do we dig
up an opening than the snow cascades down on us!

It was during this "summer season that the glaciological survey
party, under the leadership of V r alter Schytt, was making its investi
gations of the ice in the inland regions. Leaving Maudheim tempo-
rarity, we -follow that expedition into the field, where the actual opera
tions of the glaciolo gists are described in Schytfs own words:

The field work really began in midwinter, with preparation of the
equipment, and more especially with the training of dogs. I was given
eight dogs to turn into a team. They generally understood my com
mands by the time the glaciological group started out late on De
cember 18 under the midnight sun.

The weather was fine. The sledges ran swiftly on the level ice shelf,
the loads were light and the huskies in splendid form. At every mile
or two we halted to measure heights on the bamboo stakes we had
driven in on the route to the Advanced Base. Numbered flags identi
fied each of the 138 stakes which we used for measuring the accumula
tion of snow on the ice over this 150-mile stretch. The process of
measurement is quite simple, as it only entails checking the height
of the stake above the snow surface at different seasons. The shorter
the stake, the more snow will have fallen.

We covered a mere fifteen miles that night and slept till half -past
eight the next evening. After another night s run we camped on a
snow rise thirty-two miles from Maudheim, at approximately 1,000
feet above sea level.

The area lying in front of us now had a sinister look. At this point
of transition from the firm land ice at flag eighty-two to the great ice
shelf we were about to cross, the ice was crevassed in every direction
and we had found no entirely safe route. We drove very cautiously
by the same route as we had already used with the weasels; Swithin-
bank went ahead and tested the snow bridges with an ice ax, and we
followed in his tracks, Peter Melleby close behind me.

We came through without mishap, but were relieved when we

143

The White Desert

could make our camp out on the level, safe ice shelf east of the cre-
vassed area.

The next night we left the marked route and steered twenty-five
degrees more towards the south, to find the southern and southwest
ern limits of the so-called eastern ice shelf. This ice had been seen by
the geologists for the first time during a journey in September. We had
since driven across it, so that we were acquainted with the western
edge and the southeastern portions, but we knew nothing about its
northeastern and southern boundaries. On December 23 we camped
on a spur of the inland ice which here jutted out over the ice shelf. We
were able to see how the ice shelf extended into a broad bay for about
eighteen miles to the south-southeast, and in a second, still wider,
sweep to the southwest. To the west there was a low ice hill, a feature
seldom to be found on an ice shelf.

We had been lucky with the weather all the way. On the escarp
ment of the inland ice we had had, of course, the usual wind eddies
that blow down toward the "lowland" night after night, but other
wise to all intents and purposes the air had been calm. Everything
was ideal save perhaps the temperature at midday while we lay in
bed. We had a pyramid tent with double walls, and the blue outer
tent absorbed so much of the intense radiation that we often slept
on top of the sleeping bags, practically naked, with the tent door wide
open. Even so we found it too hot sometimes. The Antarctic could
be like that towards the end of Decemberbut actually we were not
bothered by the heat for any length of time.

On the night of December 23 we set our course for the large depot
at flag seventy-one, ninety miles from Maudheim, wondering greatly
whether we should manage to find it. When we thought we were
within two or three miles of it, the topographical-geological party
drove up, and an hour or two later all the sledging men of Maudheim
were assembled round the number seventy-one depot. This was be
tween four and five o clock on the morning of Christmas Eve, just
in time for an exchange of greetings.

We camped at the depot, while the other group replenished their
stores and then went on towards the Advanced Base. On an earlier de
pot journey we had descried something black looming on the north-

144

By Dog Sledge to the Mountains

ern horizon after we had passed F0rstefjeH nunatak. This time we
could distinguish only a few small black spots. We decided to drive
east from tie depot to find out what the spots were, and then reach
the Advanced Base from the north.

On Christmas night we traveled for only four hours, and then had
our Christmas dinner, Swithinbank and Melleby being entertained
by Wilson and me in our tent.

After the usual investigation of the snow, we drove on the next
evening. The "black spots" we had seen proved to be heavily ere-
vassed areas. The cracking had come about when a thin layer of the
inland ice had rolled forward over some crags; and the shape of the
crags was clearly visible under the ice.

It was plain that there were no ice-free areas here. But that same
night we discovered far away on the eastern horizon one little hill,
which we now took as our landmark. On and on we went through
the night, and presently we began to watch the altimeter with great
interest. We were driving along in a broad basin which seemed to
open out into a great "plain" farther down. The boundary line be
tween this plain and the inland rise in the northeast appeared to be
quite distinct, and as the altimeter now pointed to 350 feet above sea
level, we became more and more firmly convinced that we had en
countered a new and vast ice shelf, which certainly extended between
forty-five and fifty miles in an easterly direction. This was surprising
in the extreme, for according to the German air map we were ninety
miles from the coast, and according to the same map there ought to be
a 4,500-f oot-high hill not far from here. The existence of an ice shelf
on the inland side of such high mountains appeared unlikely. But we
had already seen during our October reconnaissance journey that the
map did not in all cases conform to the facts. Late in the morning we
drove into a crevassed area which was only 125 feet above sea level;
and we camped a few miles farther on. When we were due to start
out again that night it was snowing, everything was white and all
outlines were blurred, so we decided to stay where we were.

On the night of December 29 we drove on over a difficult surface.
The fresh snow was lying loose and in some depth, with drifts of
irregular size. Wilson went in front on skis all night, in order to find

145

HTl

X s rS;-

1

Hahsegrytc

f^l\-

Pout*

marked by flags
aid first summer

Inland Ice \

+ Depot

o Deoot

aid second summer

V

-ZKK2=ffz Crevassed area f~

Glaciologists routes 1

\

*-*"" i Seism c party s routes

i 1 11

i

T/ie main journeys made by the glaciologists in the two summer

seasons, and the journey made by the seismic party during the

last summer season. Heights are given in meters.

By Dog Sledge to the Mountains

the best route. From time to time we saw the little cone-shaped hill
that was our lodestar, but then it would disappear again from the
horizon. At about two in the morning visibility became worse in the
west, and soon we were in a snow storm.

The blizzard went on into the New Year. Now that we were not
tired out, had no torn stockings to mend and no notes to classify, time
began to hang heavy on our hands. All New Year s Eve the wind was
blowing at a speed of about forty miles per hour, but just after mid
night the force of the storm began to lessen.

New Year s Eve, 1951, was not specially exciting or eventful for us.
And yet I think that we had no regrets for our absence from celebra
tions at home in London, Oslo, Lund or Stockholm for we had come
to look upon this tent existence in the Antarctic as our normal way

of life.

With the dawn came brilliant sunshine, and the next night we drove
thirteen miles eastward in heavy slush. But bad weather once more
forced us to lie up for four days and nights, till on January 6 we set
out again about midnight. There was something of a gale blowing
still, and the snow flurries were rather a nuisance; but by this time
we were heartily sick of inaction. Towards morning the wind dropped
and the sky cleared. To the right of the hill which we were using as
our guide we could see a clearly defined spur projecting from the
F0rstefjell ridge, and beyond it there was a broad depression that
looked as if it might provide an excellent route southward to the
Advanced Base. More mountains now began to show along the hori
zon. A series of sharp peaks rose in the southeast, and, as we went on
eastward, mountains and still more mountains came into view behind

the spur.

A mile from the spur, Wilson went ahead. The terrain looked
smooth and even, but there was a good deal of fresh snow, so there
might well be hidden crevasses in our path. At about five in the
morning, for no obvious reason, I began to feel rather uneasy-per-
haps because the long parallel drifts of fresh snow reminded one of
crevasses. Or maybe it was that seventh sense presentiment.

Suddenly the right runner on my sledge cut down into the snow and
the sledge tumbled over on that side. With the help of the vertical

147

The White Desert

handles on the sledge I managed to get the weight pushed over to
the left runner, and in a few seconds the sledge was on firm ground.
Wilson and I went back to look and the first thing we saw was a hole,
between ten and fifteen inches wide, where the runner had cut
through the snow. Looking down, we could see only a dark blue
chasm. Evidently we had been driving parallel to a wide crevasse,
overlaid with drift snow and at least seventy feet deep.

This crevasse was pretty sure to be on the fringe of an extensively
crevassed area. So we drove back on to the ice shelf.

We now made straight for the little cone-shaped hill which for
nearly a fortnight had been our landmark. At one to two miles east
of our hill there was another small nunatak, and it soon became clear
that this must be what the Germans had called Boreas. The Boreas
we had found was about 750 feet high, whereas the Germans* version
was 2,500 feet. Theirs was situated 20 miles farther southward. In
spite of those great discrepancies, we had no doubt at all that these
hills were the Germans Boreas and Passat.

Swithinbank and Wilson went over to Passat to scan its surround
ings from the summit. They had hardly set foot on solid ground be
fore they discovered that in places the hill was bright with lichens of
various colorsblack and white, yellow and gray, orange and red
an absolute jungle for people who had seen no plant life whatsoever
throughout the year 1950. As well as the lichens, there was a green
moss, almost luxuriant in growth and sometimes nearly an inch high.

With all this vegetation to be inspected, they took some time to
reach the top, though the climb is an easy one. Once up there, Swith
inbank began to take compass bearings, while Wilson sat on a rock
to write down the figures. He whiled away the intervals by looking
at some beautiful and curious small stones that lay around. Suddenly
something moved across the stone he held in his hand. He took out
the magnifying glass, and the next moment was introduced to two
species of settled inhabitants that spent their winters in Queen Maud
Land.

When the others arrived back in the dusk of evening, out came the
microscope, and we sat for a long time studying the real inhabitants
of this land. There were two kinds of mites or arachnids, one red and

148

By Dog Sledge to the Mountains

swift in motion, the other moving only slowly or not at all. The red
one was .0043 inch wide and .0094 inch long; while the brown one
measured .0098 by .0197 inch.

Just after midnight three of us went across to Boreas again. With
the binoculars we were able to see bright-hued lichens growing all
the way up the slopes; but down at the foot of the hills, too, where
Melleby and I now had our first sight of the Antarctic vegetation, there
was a great deal of lichen. The rock faces were heavily scratched by
ice, and we saw many fine examples of such striations. All this was
important to glaciologists. There was no doubt, then, that the inland
ice had been more massive at an earlier period, and certainly Boreas
had once been entirely covered in ice. But it was equally certain that
this had been the case only in a very remote past, and that the ice
had not subsided in recent decades. For here were lichens growing
all the way down to the ice edge, and we knew by experience that the
establishment of lichens on areas where the ice has disappeared is a
relatively slow process.

On that morning, in other words, we established the fact that the
general recession of the glaciers in the north has no direct counterpart
in the inland ice of Queen Maud Land. Not until much later were we
able to state that the inland ice itself is not increasing.

The radiation was now intense, and the dark rock ridges felt
quite hot. We could hear, and occasionally see, water trickling down
toward the small partially frozen puddles at the foot of the hill. This
was an absolute oasis in the desert of ice, but in such an oasis neither
we nor our dogs could eke out an existence.

The next morning at six o clock we set out again, to drive straight
to the Advanced Base. On arrival we lay up for a whole week, owing
to bad weather on the one hand and work on the other. On January 15
we placed eight long aluminum rods at intervals, along a line from
Pyramiden towards the hill to the east which we called Staven (the
Prow) . This profile of aluminum rods we were to use in studying the
surface movement of the inland ice.

At the same time that the glaciological group was carrying out its
investigations in the mountain ranges, the combined expedition to

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The White Desert

study topographical and geological conditions was at work in the
same general area. The two parties met occasionally, and E. F. Roots,
in charge of tine combined group, describes many interesting charac
teristics of topography and geology found in the high, ice-covered
ranges:

The glaciological party, after an evening of frantic packing, re
peated premature farewells, and nervous waiting, left early on De
cember 18, 1950, in a grand commotion of excited dogs and startling
new skiing costumes that gave Maudheim a rather carnival atmos
phere. The topographical-geological party, consisting of Nils Roer,
Gordon Robin, Alan Reece and Fred Roots was ready about fifteen
hours later.

Favored by fine weather and excellent snow surfaces, we made
good progress, On Christmas Eve, nearing the "halfway" depot
ninety miles from Maudheim, the glaciological party was sighted
coming in from the southwest. There was a brief reunion and a Christ
mas Eve celebration. The glaciologists were on their way northeast
toward the coast line, while we continued southeast. Our main
Christmas celebration was held on the morning of December 26, com
plete with special food whale meat and dumplings, shortbread and
a morsel of pineappleand little gifts.

Soon after Christmas the weather deteriorated, and everyone was
confined "indoors" on the same high ridge where we had spent so
much time during the reconnaissance trip the previous October. The
run to the last depot, thirty miles from the Advanced Rase, was made
in very poor visibility on December 30, As the depot was to be the
first survey station, we settled down to await better weather.

Another stop for surveying, eighteen miles from the mountain
front, was prolonged by bad weather, and the little pile of boxes with
the impressive title "Advanced Rase" was not reached until noon on
January 6. About twelve hours later the geologists started for "Bor-
gen" (Mount Rorg), as the big rock massif eighteen miles south of
the Advanced Base and the largest single mountain unit in the dis
trict had been called. Just before they left, news was received that
Norsel had arrived at Maudheim.

150

By Dog Sledge to the Mountains

Roer and Robin, the surveyors, immediately set about laying the
basis for the triangulation network. A base line one and a quarter
miles long was measured in the plain north of the Advanced Base,
and multiple sun observations were taken to fix its position. Working
from a camp at the Advanced Base and later from a temporary camp
about nine miles to the northeast, they extended the primary triangles
on this base line from stations on nearby nunataks. Photographic
panoramas were taken from each station, and in selected localities
paired stereoscopic panoramas were obtained from separate short
base lines. The altitude of the main base line would have to depend
on barometric comparison with Maudheim; for this purpose a baro
graph was set in operation, and regular barometer and hypsometer
observations made at the Advanced Base.

Meanwhile, Roots and Reece were investigating the rocks of the
TBorgen" area. The main mass of Borgen is a crudely rectangular,
flat-topped block rising about 3,000 feet above the surrounding ice
sheet. The north and west sides are mainly cliffs of dark layered rock,
seamed with small vertical gullies and so sheer that they are almost
entirely devoid of ice and snow. The northwest ridge formed by the
intersection of these cliffs is a remarkably thin, steep rib, bristling
with delicate rock needles, and capped by a slender spire, partly de
tached from the main block, that forms the true summit of the moun
tain.

Borgen was climbed by the north face, up the edge of a small cliff
glacier and one of the steep rock ribs; and after a seven hour scramble
the geologists emerged on to the table top about half a mile east of
the summit spire. Then they crossed a rubble-strewn, pockmarked
bare rock plain to the northwest corner, dropped into the narrow
neck that separates the table top from the spire and clambered to
wards the summit. The point of the spire is loose, and affords no room
for a survey station or a cairn; it consists of little but view. A com
fortable shelf about thirteen feet below the summit, however, af
forded a site for a record cairn and provided an ideal perch from
which to view the surroundings.

This first extensive view of the Queen Maud Land mountains was
unforgettable. Borgen and its neighbors were seen to be part of an

151

Route to Maudheim marked by flags
4- Depot laid first summer |
2700 O Depot laid second summer

Geologists journeys

Surveyors journeys

20 40 60 80 /OO Km
i i i i ^_-i

The journeys made by the geologists and surveyors in both summer
seasons. Heights are given in meters

By Dog Sledge to the Mountains

elongated mountain system, in which nunataks and peaks and blunt
tabular massifs project from the back of a great snow ridge about
eighteen miles wide, that rises from the general ice plain like an im
mense partially exposed sandbar, and stretches away to the northeast
until, as seen from Borgen itself, it is lost in the horizon. North of
Borgen, the nunataks on this ridge are mostly relatively small and
widely scattered. Farther southwest, the nunataks are more scattered,
and the ridge itself merges into a gently undulating ice sheet. Im
mediately east of the ridge a great ice stream, thirty-seven miles wide
at its narrowest point and seamed by belts of crevasses, flows north
ward down a perceptible grade, like a gigantic river. Across the ice
stream, the eastern horizon was interrupted by a confused jumble of
snowy peaks and ridges that mark the end of another extensive moun
tain system.

Several parts of the table top of the main mass of Borgen were
visited; then the geologists returned down the north cliff by their
original route. The climb had been a varied, interesting one of a type
that makes mountaineering a pleasure regardless of latitude; it had
involved the ascent, on crampons, of a steep little glacier; step-cutting
in the hard ice of a steep stone-raked couloir; lowering packs by rope
over small cliffs and overhangs; and rock scrambling that was not
severe but often demanded undivided attention.

After "riding out" a fairly severe storm in the comfort of their
sleeping bags, Roots and Reece returned to the Advanced Base on
January 17. By this time the surveyors had nearly finished their base
line and initial triangulation work, and Schytt, Swithinbank, Melleby
and Wilson had arrived, after having traveled along the mountain
front from the ice shelf to the north. A few hours after the geologists
returned, the glaciologists left the Advanced Base to investigate the
glaciers southeast of Borgen.

The next day, while Roer and Robin were taking sun observations,
and Reece and Roots were in camp packing rock specimens, the al
most forgotten drone of an airplane motor was heard, and a green
monoplane appeared low over Borgen. Soon afterward it circled the
Advanced Base and landed. We hurried out to meet it and were
greeted by Kare Friis-Baastad and Sigvard Kjellberg, two of the new

153

The White Desert

arrivals in the Norsel, and the first "strangers" we had seen for more
than a year.

From Fred Roots 9 account of this first period of the topographical
and geological field work in 1950-51, we return now to John Giaever s
narrative of events at Maudheim.

154

XVII
THE SUMMER TOURISTS COME-AND GO

SCTUMACHER and I sat discussing NorseTs chances of coming in
through the ice belt, and we agreed that they looked none too bright.
It would certainly take more than a day or two. We could very well
wait awhile before digging our exit clear, so as to provide the guests
with a fairly respectable stairway down to their cave dwelling hosts.
Anyhow, if we did this at the moment, it would be sure to drift up very
quickly again. And really it would be just as well if these guests didn t
come straight away now, we said. For we weren t feeling up to parties.

And the next thing we knew was that someone was walking over
the roof and something hammered on the stovepipe. Nils-J0rgen and
I stared at each other. Then someone was knocking on the top snow-
free pane and a strange voice called out: "Is there anyone here?"

Nils-J0rgen came into the middle of the floor and spun twice
around his own axis. He almost sobbed: Tm blest if it isn t Norsell
What in the world are we going to do now?"

In my diary is written: "Existence simply exploded."

Gosta tumbled in, crying: "People! And they don t know where
the door is. Shall I dig up a hole for them?"

"Yes, thank you," I answered feebly.

Gosta dug a steep and narrow tunnel up. Through this the repre
sentatives of civilization came sliding down on their backs. I stood
in the passage and received them as they tumbled out of the hole and
rose from the heap of snow on the floor. Many strange persons arrived
in unbroken succession as though shot from a cannon, and all were
full of what they had to say. I hardly took in a word of it. I simply
handed them over to Nils-J0rgen, who swept them on into the mess.
The floor there was not quite so black.

"Punchr I said to Gosta.

155

The White Desert

One man got stuck in the tunnel. It was Dr. Brian Roberts, but he
had a case of beer in his arms. We had to do some extra digging
to get Brian down, and it was a job we tackled with gusto.

After a while Professor Sverdrup came sliding down on his back,
bringing with him a large smile.

And he said: "Well, here we are now, Giaever!"

Yet still they came sliding down, several more of them, till at last
Knalle said, with a sigh; c Td forgotten there were so many people in
the world."

Such an abrupt transition from solitude to a kind of international
assembly is something of a strain though it may sound like an affec
tation to say so. It took quite a while for us to collect our thoughts, for
the color to come back to our cheeks, and to realize that the rather
frightened cordiality had faded from the looks of our visitors.

This was an experience I had passed through a few times already,
and on more occasions still I had seen others under its influence.
None save those who have shared in such an experience can realize
what it means, for a band of men feeling the effects of their hiber
nation under the snow to meet so many people so suddenly to listen
to greetings in three languages, to ask endless questions, almost
vaguely and without waiting for an answer, and to keep on giving
answers to what the others ask. But how festive it all is!

Yes, such an occasion may well be called festive, bringing as it
does letters and parcels and hampers from home, up-to-date news and
fresh eggs and new potatoes. A man forgets that a little while ago he
was weary. He eats more than is prudent from the pot of potatoes
Hog has cooked at once. He devours quantities of boiled and fried
eggs from Snarby s galley, he tastes fruit and drinks some of Brian s
beer; he must take in all the new things at once. Possibly it is all a
little too much for both stomach and brain. But it doesn t matter.
Our visitors only laugh at us and wonder why earth we should be
stuffing ourselves with so many potatoes, of all things.

A dark young man has been sitting looking at me for some little
time; and at last he says, diffidently: "I am Jo, John Jelbart from
Australia. Your new man. Glad to meet you, Captain. When can I
move up and start work?"

156

The Summer Tourists Come and Go

"Right away," I answer, without thinking of the strong breeze out
side.

A rather frightened little fellow caine up and greeted me in rich
Nordland accents: "This is Bjarne Lorentzen. I m the new cook. You
don t need a big fellow to cook. Napoleon was a little chap too, and he
didn t do badly. Besides, I m supposed to be a real good cook, folks
in L0dingen say I am. And I can play the guitar and the flute."

You ll go far with all that, Bjarne," I replied. "The cooking is the
most important."

An auburn-haired Swedish giant introduced himself as the pho
tographer Stig Hallgren. He was to film the life in Maudheim during
one short summer. At least, that was what he and we thought. We
little dreamed then what he was to go through in the Antarctic later
on.

Then came Lieutenant Lloyd Foster of the Royal Navy, the airmen
Kare Friis-Baastad and Anders Jacobsen from Norway, seaman
Terje Baardsen, who had been with me on the Quest in 1949 and
many more.

Professor Sverdrup thought the air in the houses was stuffy and
bad, and I told him the reason for this. He promised us help from
every man on board, and then broke up the party. As an old winter
explorer, he doubtless realized that we needed to be alone for a while
to digest impressions and letters, as well as potatoes. The guests dug
themselves out again and vanished in the snow smoke down towards
the quay. We took the letters with us into our cubicles. And there
was very little sleep that night either. A new gale was raging over
the roofs. I must mention, though, that before Sverdrup went back
to Norsel, Rog made radio telephone contact for the first time with
Advanced Base, and Dr. Roberts had a long conversation with his
countrymen.

There never was such a summer! Storm and strong breeze in con
stant alternation. Only occasionally did we have a calm day with
sunshine. So entirely different from the 1951 summer down south.

The discharging of Norsel, meanwhile, was going forward at a
breakneck pace. Captain Guttorm saw to that. The stores were driven
up to Maudheim by degrees; and Ekstrom saw to this even if the

157

The White Desert

weasels gave trouble pretty often. The planes were landed, too, and
a site for an airfield was found up on the ice shelf a few hundred yards
from the quay. All the men did everything they possibly could.
Anders Jacobsen flew over Maudheim the very day after the arrival
in a strong breeze and thick driving snow. But periods of low pres
sure came in quick succession. The prospects for aerial survey that
summer were utterly wretched from the outset.

The Norwegian air unit was made up of Captain Friis-Baastad,
First Pilot Anders Jacobsen, Photographer Sigvard Kjellberg and
mechanics J. Jensen and W. Andreassen.

Friis-Baastad twice flew all the way to the Advanced Base. He also
flew south and discovered a new mountain range somewhere beyond
the German "Kraulberge". A series of aerial photographs was taken
in the interior. Both Friis-Baastad and Jacobsen hovered aloft, and
at least tried to photograph the ice front as soon as the gales dropped
and only a breeze was blowing. They took stupendous risks to ac
complish something where even a little appeared entirely impossible.
Certainly their experience of the Antarctic was a test of nerves and
physical endurance.

It was difficult enough on "the ground". On January 7, the day
after NorseTs arrival, Captain Jakobsen toiled up to Maudheim
through a little blizzard, to discuss details of the unloading. The next
day the weather was fairly manageable, and by January 9 everything
had been unloaded and driven up to the base. But that evening the
blizzard was on us again, and it blew without interruption till the
eighteenth. The snow piled up in great masses over the base and the
stores, the planes and Narsel. 1 shuddered at the thought of what a ca
tastrophe we should have faced if we had had this same weather the
previous year. We should never have got through.

During the days that followed we had splendid help from the crew
and all the "summer visitors". We were not worth much ourselves,
owing to attacks of a gastric complaint in the nature of dysentery
which the visitors had brought with them. But they gave us any
amount of help. All the new stores, fuel, etc., were laboriously dug
out of the new banks of drift and stacked up in piles over the level
ground a few hundred yards from the houses. Ventilation shafts

158

The Summer Tourists Come and Go

were dug down in front of all the windows, and shutters with glass
panes put over them. Dr. Roberts, Jelbart and Lieutenant Foster
dug out the old north doorway and made new "outside conveniences,"
which held for another whole year. The meteorologists* "gas factory"
and balloon hut was considerably enlarged. And all the snow which
which was thrown up in this way had to be shifted far out on the
plain away from the base; for every mound, whether large or small,
gave rise to new banks of drift in all directions as the wind blew. The
drifts piled up on top of us; the summer snow was heavy and lay deep.
While all this was going on there was little time for anything much
in the way of social intercourse; but Captain Guttorm did at least
make a point of having a grand dinner on board, with roast pork and
sauerkraut, beer and other drinks.

Professor Sverdrup, helped by the Swedish observer Captain R,
von Essen, went on for several days with the measurement of currents
in Norselbukta.

Between January 18 and 29 the weather was fairly respectable all
the time; but long flights were not feasible. Away to the south there
was low, overcast sky. It was a distressing state of affairs. At the base
we now discussed whether it would not be just as well for Sverdrup
to give up the whole thing and start for home. So long a period of
storm and impossible flying weather must have some reason or other.
We saw no hope of an improvement; but I quite realized that an ex
pedition leader simply must wait and watch for possibilities.

The problem settled itself. On January 29 I asked Friis-Baastad to
take Liljequist up in the "big plane" on a run down towards Cape
Norvegia. In landing they crashed rather badly and the aircraft was
wrecked. The airman came out of the affair with a few scratches on
his face, and Gosta had a slight concussion. The wreck of the plane
was taken on board the same night. This obviously meant the end
of all aerial survey for that summer.

Gosta s condition was so disquieting as to make me ask Professor
Sverdrup to delay his departure until I had consulted the doctor on
board the Thor$h0vdi. It was quite possible that he would have to be
sent home. For hours on end I sat by Gosta s bunk chattering about
everything under the sun. Gosta seemed afraid of something, and

159

The White Desert

for the first time in my life I found somebody demanding that I
should talk.

At eight o clock that evening a reassuring answer came from Thor-
shfivdis doctor, and I notified Sverdrup that he could go. Unfortu
nately it was not possible for me to be on the spot when the ship
started.

Here I should mention that I had long realized our need of addi
tions to the labor force in Maudheim. We ought to have an all-around
man who could be turned on to anything. The matter was put to
Professor Sverdrup, and the result was that Stig Hallgren, the pho
tographer, volunteered. Sverdrup arranged all the formalities by tele
graph. When Norsel left us, Stig was therefore a new member of the
wintering party. Poor Stig more than any of us, he was to learn by
experience what an Antarctic hibernation meant.

160

Ssfevvj^SgJlJlS

Plate 9. On the roof of Maudheim, January, 1951:
John Giaever, H. U. Sverdrup, Guttorm Jakobsen

Harold U. Sverdrup

Plate 10. At the Norsel s departure on January 30, 1951

From left: Leslie Quar, John Jelbart, Bertil Ekstrom and Stig Hallgren:
the first three were drowned in the accident on February 24, 1951, while
Hallgren was rescued from the drifting ice floe.

XVIII
A DISASTER OVERTAKES US

IT is HARD to say, with a band of men wintering in isolation, which
sensation they find the more violent the excitement of the summer
ship and all the life and bustle brought in by so many fresh people, or
the reaction after the ship has left and things are so quiet again. One
feels strangely abandoned, and there is no overlooking the fact that
the many months stretching ahead look like an eternity. The mind
has been shaken up, as it were, and must have time to settle down
again; and the best medicine for the case, I daresay, is work.

Indeed, there was work in plenty awaiting us. Liljequist recovered
quickly after the flying accident With two new and energetic men
at the base, we achieved a great deal in the weeks that followed. An
exit for rough weather was built up with packing cases, so that the
meteorologists should in future be saved any trouble with the tar
paulin over the main doorway during storms. Ekstrom overhauled
both diesel installations for the winter, and began overhauling the
engine in one of the weasels. At this period all the vehicles were out
of action. Transport of the stores from the ship and all the leveling
on the airfield had knocked them out completely. Quar overhauled
the electric generators. Meanwhile the meteorological routine was
kept up as usual with one balloon ascent every day. Besides all this,
we arranged the new supplies, made a ground plan of the large stacks
of boxes "out on the ground," so that from the list we could trace
every box, down to the very smallest, even if the stacks were buried in
the drift.

During NorseTs visit to us the sledging parties had sent weather re
ports every day for the guidance of the flyers. But not long after the
ship s departure, conditions again became quite impossible, and it
was very seldom that we received any message at all from the moun-

161

The White Desert

tain region. Even so, Rog called the sledging parties every evening
til] the end of May. The radio conditions down there were curious.
It turned out afterward that the men had obtained news from Maud-
freim through listening to Radio Norway!

Ekstrom had an ugly abscess on his forearm early in February, and
Dr. Rosenblad on Thorshtfvdi again had to be consulted. It was over
a week before Knalle was able to set to work again on the weasel.
Hallgren was indefatigable in helping him. Altogether it was extraor
dinary to see how much more energy (and perhaps strength also)
the three new men had than we "old hands/

Late in the evening of February 23 Knalle and Stig finished their
work on the first weasel. For the first time for many days we had
fine weather, and towards midnight under a clear frosty sky the light
seemed infused with an almost magical radiance. Four of the men
decided then to take the weasel for a trial run while the weather was
so good, and obviously they were all eager to get some fresh air into
their lungs.

I myself had retired to my bunk about an hour before they set out;
tut every member of our party was always entitled to go a distance
of up to five miles away from Maudheim without asking my per
mission. In any case, on that fine evening I should certainly have
given them permission. The four were Ekstrom, Jelbart, Quar and
Hallgren.

Rogstad was staying up to take a night met for the meteorologists.
A little after one o clock he woke me, to report that the men had
gone out on that test run about an hour and a half earlier and now
there was thick fog outside. He proposed that he and Lorentzen, as
a precaution, should follow the weasel track on skis. There might
have been an accident.

For my own part I must say I was inclined to think the machine
tad gone wrong and the four of them had been delayed by repairs.
That sort of thing had happened before. But I agreed that these two
should nevertheless go and investigate, as a precaution.

But at about three o clock Rog reported that the weasel had
driven out over the ice front in the fog. He could hear Hallgren call
ing from an ice floe out in the bay, and he thought the men were drif t-

162

A Disaster Overtakes Us

ing out to sea. Rog had already spoken to Stig, and knew that Ek-
strom, Quar and Jelbart were lost. But he did not want to inflict this
shock on the rest of us before we had tried to save Stig. Perhaps that
was just as well.

How were we to organize the rescue attempt? To make a raft was
a doubtful solution. There was already quite thick and tough young
ice on parts of the bay, and how should we get a raft over the ice
front in safety? The ice was drifting out to sea, Rog had said. We
might have to go far out, and a raft is not much easier to handle in
such conditions than an ice floe.

The decision, therefore, was the only possible one: we must dig up
one of the dories out of the snow and drag it down to the ice front.
There we would simply have to lower it into the sea, as one does
from fishing vessels.

I had allowed the heavy boats to be completely sunk in the drift;
under the snow they were best protected against sun and thaw. But
now, of course, they were covered by an extremely hard layer of
snow over six feet in depth, and it would take a long time to dig up
one of them. This, however, was the only possibility open to us.

There were five of us and we had to work for over five hours be
fore the boat was dislodged. It may look as though we took too long
for this whole rescue operation. But I can testify that our efforts
were so intense that in the end several of us were sick from exhaustion.

We laid the boat across two dog sledges. Thank God, the sledges
held firm under so great a weight. Then we began to pull down to
wards the quay.

The fog had cleared now and the sun was quite hot. This was for
tunate for Stig as he walked about on the ice floe in dripping clothes
but for us it meant further delay. It was like hauling over sand! We
pulled a hundred yards or so and then slid down on the snow with a
groan.

At about halfway we came to a little steep drop in a glacier valley.
From here I went down to the ice front to look for the men. I saw only
Stig. He was walking about on a large ice floe which was drifting
seaward, about 500 yards out in the bay. I called to him that rescue
was on the way and he would be saved. But the work with the boat

163

The White Desert

was so heavy that he would probably have to wait for some time still.
He had no frostbite and the sun was now quite hot. Then he told me
that the other three were drowned. He had seen each one of them
dragged down under the ice by the current.

His floe was now drifting into the shelter of a corner in the ice
front, but I called out that he musn t lose heart. We would come for
him with the boat, even if he were drifting out to sea.

"Thank you, I understand," said Stig. "But come as soon as pos
sible." With that the floe moved out behind the corner.

I went back and told my comrades the terrible news. Yet in spite
of everything we were all glad to think that we should at least man
age to save Stig. It seemed really inconceivable that we had lost the
three young men.

At last we were down at the ice front. The Norsel quay had broken
away and the lowest edge was about thirteen feet high. We put a long
line on the boat and gave the sledges that held it a good strong push
off the ice front. The sledges were smashed against the sea surface as
we had reckoned they would be, but the boat was undamaged. Schu
macher and I clambered down into it with a rope. He rowed, while
I had to stand well forward in the bow and with an oar smash out a
lane through the new ice.

We reached Hallgren s floe, about a mile from the quay, at just
about two o clock that afternoon. By then the poor fellow had been
walking about there for almost thirteen hours. But he was extraor
dinarily vigorous still, and he had met with no injuries at all. He was
given dry clothes and mitts and then hot, well-sweetened coffee and
some food. So strong was this young Swede that he preferred to walk
back to Maudheim alone, while we others were simply compelled to
sit down and rest for a while.

I wrote down Stig s account at once. He and Ekstrom had wanted
to do a test run in the weasel while the weather was fine. Jelbart
went with them to fetch some aluminum sheets that had been left
lying over on the airfield. Quar had worked all day in the motor-
shed, and joined the others for the sake of getting some fresh air.
They also meant to take a run down to the quay, and fetch up some
seal meat left there from NorseL

164

A Disaster Overtakes Us

The weather was brilliantly clear, but when they had gone a
short way, says Stig, the fog suddenly came rolling up from the bay
and over the ice shelf. They went on, all the same, but soon lost
their bearings. The fog was so low that they could see the sky above
them. This perhaps gave a false sense of security. It would, in any
case, not be at all difficult, so they believed, to find their way back;
they only had to follow the tracks in the snow. After some random
driving around, they found the airfield and fetched Jelbarfs sheets.
At this point they thought that they had their bearings all right, and
they went on down toward the quay. But, as it happened, a great
piece of the quay had broken off several hundred yards. At a speed
of about fifteen miles an hour they were driving down the gradual
slope, when the dark sea suddenly showed through the mist, about
fifty feet in front of the weaseL Ekstrom braked at the last moment.
We could see this afterwards from the tracks in the snow. But it was
too late. They all jumped out of the vehicle, only to fall into the sea.

Hallgren goes on: Ekstrom was the last to leave the weaseL He
was the farthest out to sea too. It looked as though he must have hit
something, and possibly Jelbart, too, had been injured in the fall.
Hallgren swam out and helped Ekstrom in to the ice front, where the
other two were trying to cling on. But it was utterly impossible to
clamber up the thirteen-f eet-high snow wall. The current was drag
ging them down under the ice. One after another the men disappeared.

Quar called: "Good-by, Knalle "

Then Stig was alone. He could just see a little ice floe about two
hundred yards off and swam out to it. With his sheath knife he suc
ceeded in hoisting himself up on the floe. There he had violent shiver
ing fits, brought on, of course, by chill in the icy water. There was a
much larger floe a little way off; he managed to wriggle his floe over
to it, and then to scramble on. Through the mist he thought he now
caught a glimpse of a low ice front only about forty yards away. He
plunged in and tried to swim to it, but the water was so cold that he
had to turn at once. Then his floe drifted out over the bay.

Hallgren was calling for help while the floe drifted out; but he did
not expect any one would notice that the party had failed to return-
before the 6 a.m. observation at the earliest, Then he heard Rogstad

165

The White Desert

calling from the ice front and asked for help at the first possible mo
ment, as he was freezing cold; and Rog promised to come. But after
that a very long time went by and nothing happened. The floe drifted
with the current into the harbor and then ran out again. Stig began
to think that Rog s call might have been in his own imagination or
maybe the echo of his own voice from the ice front.

All this time Hallgren was trotting around on the floe to keep as
warm as he could. At last the fog cleared late in the morning and the
sun came out. That was better. Then he saw Giaever appear at the
ice front. He realized that he was going to be rescued.

That same evening I telegraphed a short report to the Norwegian
Polar institute. It was not until the next day that I managed to put
together a complete account, and this was sent from Maudheim the
same evening. Stig sent his family a telegram to say that he was all
right. And he was, too. Thanks to the mild weather on that particular
night when the accident occurred, he had nothing more serious than
slight frostbite in his toes. I ordered him to bed for a couple of days
as a precaution. He didn t even catch cold.

On the evening of February 25 we were in touch with Fred Roots
party for the first time for ages. I told them about the accident, and
they answered in very few words. It was a shock. But at least there
was now a chance for me to radio home that the field parties were all
right.

It was my obvious duty, at all events, to consider the organization
of the labor force now left to us. In such a small group as ours, each
man is irreplaceable. On such an expedition one must always take
into account the possibility that some of the members may perish-
though naturally the field parties always face the greatest risks. In
this instance, however, we had lost our only mechanical engineer,
Ekstrom, our only radio mechanic, Quar, and Jelbart, whose presence
was to make possible the important borings far in on the inland ice,
planned by Schytt for the coming winter.

Altogether drastic measures were necessary. We would have to
economize to the utmost on the diesel installations; if they were to
give out we had no mechanic to repair them. It would not be possible
to use electric power beyond the short time every evening when the

166

A Disaster Overtakes Us

meterological balloons were sent up. All batteries would have to be
charged by wind generators.

Our two weasels were bogged down in the drift outside, and both
of them were in bad repair. We must get them put in order if were to
have the slightest chance of carrying out our field work the following
summer. The only people at all capable of repairing them were Mel-
leby and Robin, and Melleby was also the only one who knew any
thing about repair of diesel motors, supposing they should give
trouble. But both Peter and Robbie were at the time far south in the
mountains. I passed an order to Rog that both of them should return
to Maudheim as quickly as possible to help us with all these problems.
Of course I knew that it would be hard for Roer and for Schytt each
to lose his assistant in the middle of the summer s work. But there
was no help for it. Everyone had to sacrifice something, if the whole
scheme was to continue at all according to plan.

I am very happy to be able to say that it did not prove in the least
necessary to send my orders to the sledging parties. When, many
days later, we next got in touch with Robbie, it turned out that the
groups had discussed the situation, and reached exactly the same
solution as I had. Robin and Melleby had been released and were
starting back for Maudheim. I mention this as an example of the un
failing resolve for unselfish co-operation and of the mutual under
standing that characterized the work at Maudheim. The situation de
manded it? Well, picture to yourself such a consultation between sev
eral working groups in a wind-blown tent away on the inland ice.
Each of the groups had its definite program arranged in advance and
every man was indispensable. But they all realized that they must
sacrifice something to the common good in the matter of their future
work. Had one man insisted on his rights and written orders, every
thing would have been spoiled. If only international co-operation had
been equally simple of attainment elsewhere on the earth! It is
straightforward, indeed, to be the responsible leader to such people
as the members of this expedition.

167

XIX
UNTRODDEN PEAKS AND GLACIERS

Here again we turn to the glaciological party at work far south in
the mountain areas. Valter Schytt describes new land massifs, and
tells of his shock and dismay at learning of the tragic accident at
Maudheim:

THE PLANS for the field work laid it down that for the first three or
four weeks we should make a detailed study of the glaciological con
ditions within a limited area near the Advanced Base. After that we
were to carry out a more comprehensive survey of the general state
of the ice cover on a longer tour eastward.

The great mountain massif about eighteen miles south of the Ad
vanced Base appeared, from a distance at least, full of interesting pos
sibilities. We had already given the name "Borgen" to the mountain
at the center of this group, on account of its imposing height and
dominating position; hence the term Borgen massif was applied to the
whole group. We chose this as our area of work for the first period.

Just before midnight on January 18 we began to drive around the
massif. The new snow was loose, so we made slow progress, but this
was rather to our advantage in some ways. We had time for consecu
tive snow examinations at every camping place, and could use our
binoculars to examine the rock face on Borgen. It had been heavily
scored by the ice, and large niches collected huge masses of drift
snow which then flowed down to the low levels to the north in the
form of ice- or nv6-streams.

We had been heading all the time toward a pass that lay approxi
mately six miles south of a prominent peak, Facetten, and early in the
morning of January 24 we were approaching this pass. To the left we
had towering mountains, to the right a steep snow slope with vast

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Untrodden Peaks and Glaciers

crevasses which ran down from a cauldron-like depression on the
mountain side. It did not look inviting. At three in the looming W e
were on the crest and found our worst fears confirmed. On the left was
a sheer wall of rock; in front and to the right of us walls of rock alter
nated with ice falls.

But the view was fantastic. We were at the easterly edge of the
Borgen massif, approximately 5,800 feet above sea level. About 1,800
feet below us we had the vast white inland ice, and roughly forty-
three miles to the south were some small peaks. This was to all intents
and purposes new territory it had only been seen from aircraft for
a few hours in January, 1939; and although we now stood on a pass,
the sensation was the same as when one has reached a mountain top
and suddenly faces the wide panorama below.

To the west, a high mountain, mainly of red sandstone that gleamed
in the morning sunshine, dominated the scene. Of course it was chris
tened R0dberget (Red Mountain), and the pass was named after it.
A few days later all of us were gathered there and remained until
January 31. The weather was gorgeous, with a clear blue sky and day
temperatures between 5 and minus 4F.; while at night it dropped to
about minus 22 F. That these were quite normal summer tempera
tures was proved by the temperature profile which Swithinbank took
in the snow cover by the R0dberg pass (approximately 6,000 feet
above sea level). This showed a yearly average temperature of be
tween minus 22 and minus 25 F. The mean temperature for the
winter months June to August probably remains between minus 49
and minus 58F., which one must admit is rather cold.

We agreed that Swithinbank and Melleby during the following
week should work on the southwest side of the Borgen ridge, while
Wilson and I should carry on in the great "R0dberg valley," and then
try to work north through a pass twelve to eighteen miles from the
R0dberg pass. After a week we would join forces again.

We spent two days near an ice stream that flowed out into the val
ley from the mountains in the northeast, and put down a new series of
aluminum rods to measure the surface movement of the ice. Thence
we worked northward through the "German pass/ one that had been
described in the account of the German expedition, and which we

169

The White Desert

had now identified. But we did not stay there long, for we now meant
to study the moraine areas near Borgen.

We arrived there late at night on February 5, and made our camp
between two small peaks, only twenty yards away from a moraine
ridge. From the south face of Borgen a great sheet of gleaming blue
ice stretched towards the southwest. It looked almost as solid as or
dinary glacier ice at home in Sweden. The ice field was bounded on
the south and north by vast moraine ridges.

From the top of the small peak southeast of the camp we could see
in better perspective. The blue ice appeared to be quite half a mile in
width and from two to three miles long. It was so smooth that the
snow-covered slope of Borgen was mirrored in the surface.

We left the interesting blue ice on February 10 and turned back
towards the Advanced Base. From there we went out again on a trip
to the mountains east of Pencksokka (The Penck Depression) and
were back on the depot on March 11.

To our surprise Robin was there alone. Without a word he gave
us a telegram which had been sent from Maudheim a fortnight before.
At first we could not take it in, it seemed like a bad dream.

In the change of plans that followed we had to relinquish Melleby
and provide the homebound group with a serviceable dog team.
Swithinbank, Wilson and I were to finish our measurements in the
region of the Borgen massif and then drive back to Maudheim.

When Robin and Melleby set out for Maudheim on March 13, the
sledging party went southward. On the way up towards Mount Borg,
Wilson examined a little boulder that was sticking up about four
feet above the snow. He found on this stone, in size about two square
yards, two varieties of lichen, and thereby gave us one of the most
striking proofs that the ice is not receding.

About midday on March 19 we were on our way towards Pyrami-
den.

Later on the same afternoon Swithinbank went along the profile we
had laid from Pyramiden to Staven. It turned out that the accumula
tion during the past two months was no more than three inches on an
average. It is easy to go wrong in calculations of snowfall down here.
The snow that comes with the easterly blizzards always gives the

170

Untrodden Peaks and Glaciers

impression of being more copious than it is in reality, because the fall
ing snow sweeps up the drift snow from the surface and shifts it this
way and that.

The speed profile that we were able to plot on the basis of our
measurements showed the typical parabolic shape seen in an ordinary
glacier at home in Sweden. The rod placed at 500 yards from the rock
face had moved fourteen inches in sixty-three days. The ice, therefore,
moves very slowly here, and that will not seem so remarkable if one
remembers how small are the snow deposits which the ice in its
movement has to carry towards the sea.

With this measuring of tie Pyramiden profile our work up in the
mountains was ended. At about noon on March 20 we left the Ad
vanced Base, and really we were glad that our work at Maudheim
prevented us from extending the field season. The weather, to be sure,
was not desperately bad, but there was every sign that the autumn
storms were approaching. We wished Roots, Roer and Reece luck
for their further journey south, and set out for home.

Covering approximately the same period as that just described by
V alter Schytt, Fred Roots, leading the topographical-geological party,
provides a vivid picture of the dangerously crevassed glacier regions:

We set out for the eastern mountains on January 21, carrying pro
visions for about thirty-two days. A pass southeast of the Advanced
Base was crossed, and on the second day, after the geologists had in
vestigated nearby nunataks, we dropped down onto the great glacier.

On January 26 the weather rapidly deteriorated; a dull overcast
gave a flat white light in which snow slopes, bare ice patches, cre
vasses and the horizon were equally indistinguishable; snow squalls
and fog halted traveling at times.

On January 29, under clearing skies, we approached the north-
westernmost of the mountains in what we thought was the "Muhlig-
Hofmann" area. An attempt was made to pass to the south of the
first peak, but a belt of large crevasses with sagging snow bridges was
encountered. We skirted die most broken areas, but nevertheless were
obliged to cross about a dozen of the crevasses, some of which were

171

The White Desert

more than six yards wide; then a halt was called for further reconnais
sance.

This mountain proved to be excitingly different from any hitherto
visited. In contrast to the almost undeformed sediments and gabbroic
sills found on Borgen and around the Advanced Base, it was com
posed of white, gray, pinkish, yellow, brown, black and spotted
gneisses, schists and pegmatites in intimate contorted intercalation.
From a distance, the brilliantly banded cliffs looked like stained
burled oak or maple; upon a closer view the fantastic colors and con
volutions defied comparison with anything but a gigantic surrealist
painting. Rarely are geologists privileged to see such large exposures
(one cirque headwall is a clean cliff 2,000 feet high and nearly one
and a quarter miles long) of brilliantly contrasting metamorphic
rocks, quite fresh, unstained by weathering, and free of lichen, soil,
rubble or snow.

But it was not only in its rocks that this mountain was interesting.
At the little col on the north ridge Roer and Roots stepped from their
skis on to dry gravelly ground where orange, white and black lichens
and clumps of brilliant green moss nestled between the stones. There
is no denying that one of the things most appreciated by many expe
dition members upon their return to temperate regions is the abun
dance of vegetation; but while one is living in Antarctica the lack of
plant life does not seem to be anomalous.

In one spot the col was littered with the bones of birds; the place
had apparently been used as a dining ground by predatory birds
(probably Skuas). The smallness of most of the bones suggested that
the species that supplied the meals nests in the vicinity. Some of the
innumerable wind-eroded hollows in the sun-warmed rock contained
clear, wonderfully fresh and refreshing water, although the air tem
perature at that time was 17 F.

The next two days were spent surveying and "geologizing." The
surveyors carried their loads of about forty-four pounds each-
theodolite, cameras, camera mount, tripods and ample heavy cloth
ingup a seemingly interminable slope, 2,000 feet high, and then
spent an hour cutting steps on a final ice dome, only to find they could
not reach the highest pinnacle. A station was set on a sub-peak, close

172

Untrodden Peaks and Glaciers

to the main peak but separated from it by a deep smooth cleft.

The geologists literally had "field days" on the complicated, gaudy
rocks, and the weight of specimens they collected was probably most
disheartening to the poor dogs, who were doing their best to eat up
the load.

By February 1 tie work in this group of nunataks had been com
pleted as far as time would allow, and we continued east and south.

We were now traveling through the scattered nunataks and larger
mountain massifs that proved to comprise Gburektoppane (Gburek
Spitzen), as named by the Schwaberdand expedition of 1939. The
main mountain belt was reached southeast of Gburektoppane. Here
it forms an almost continuous wall, from five to fifteen miles wide,
running more than fifty-five miles northeast from the east edge of the
main Pencksokka ice stream. The wall is breached by several small,
relatively steep and broken, throughgoing glaciers that drain over
flow from the inland ice behind, so that many of the individual moun
tain summits are actually north-south ridges; nevertheless, the north
west side of the wall is a fairly uniform escarpment, rising from 2,000
to 4,000 feet above the gently undulating ice-covered foreland.

Behind the wall, the rolling and hummocky surface of the inland
ice rises gradually (as seen from the summits within the wall itself)
to a smooth skyline far to the south. A few rock points break through
this ice cover within six miles of the wall; south of these, not a single
nunatak has been seen.

We worked along the northwest front of this mountain belt in
easy stages. Most of the outlying nunataks were visited, and those
in commanding positions were occupied as survey stations. Almost
all of the major rock exposures of the mountain wall were examined
by the geologists, and many of the higher peaks were climbed.

On February 3, Roer, Robin and Reece were together on a nunatak
about five miles north of the mountain front. A wind of near gale
force was blowing across the crest, and near the highest point the
men met a large flock of Antarctic petrels, darting and wheeling in
the turbulence. These birds must have been nesting somewhere on
the rocks at about this time; yet despite the fact that all four men
spent hours each working day on all conceivable parts of cliffs, screes,

173

The White Desert

bare rocky ridges and sun-warmed radiation hollows, no nests were

found.

Eventually, we came to a broad snow-covered saddle connecting
the main mountain chain with a group of peaks lying to the north
(later identified as Paulsenfjella); this was considered to be the limit
of outgoing range. Several days 7 work was carried out from this
saddle. A second base line was laid out here, and solar observations
taken to "pm" this end of the triangulation network. The position was
72 15 south, 1 20 east. The geologists ranged over almost all of the
peaks and nunataks in the area, and crossed the main mountain chain
to the edge of the inland ice. A relatively large outlet glacier flows
through the mountains about nine miles east of the saddle. Beyond
this lies the sprawling mass of Mayrf jella, which, with many smaller
mountains, continues the wall-like range an indefinite distance east-
northeast.

Originally, it had been planned to cross through the main range and
return along its southern front; but the unexpected narrowness of the
range, the ice-swamped nature of its southeastern flank, and the sur
prisingly crevassed and broken edge of Hie inland ice itself made it
obvious that it would be more profitable to return along the north
west front, and reach outcrops and survey stations from that side.

The easternmost camp was struck on February 8. Roots and Reece
left first, in order to investigate several outlying nunataks. Meanwhile,
Roer and Robin had occupied a survey station on one of the peaks
near the easternmost camp. This was the last of a set of stations ar
ranged to provide stereophotographic coverage of the unvisited
mountains to the east. About two o clock in the morning of February 9
they rejoined the geologists, who had just returned from their moun
tain.

We continued southwest along the front of the range through
Barkleyfjella and Hermannfjella to Gockelkammen, scarcely able to
believe our remarkable luck with the weather. Since entering Gburek-
toppane on January 29, we had enjoyed day after day of clear, usually
cloudless skies and light winds. Temperatures were moderate and
mainly uniform.

As February advanced, the sun began to drop below the horizon

174

Untrodden Peaks and Glaciers

at midnight, and it was again necessary to regulate activities accord
ing to the time of day. In the early part of the season, we had usually
camped by "day" and traveled by "night" because the sledges ran
more freely and the dogs were more energetic in the cooler period.
By mid-January, however, the noon radiation had become less in
tense, and it was not necessary to take the hour into account when
traveling, camping or working. Now, however, as the difference be
tween "day" and "night" began to be noticeable, the available work
ing day was no longer unlimited, and "night" once again came to
mean the time when one made camp and went to bed.

These days were among the most enjoyable of the entire season;
routine, but full of minor incident, most of it soon forgotten. In addi
tion to the fascination of the work itself, there were all the problems
and pleasures of route-finding and travel in hill country; there were
tantalizing ski runs or rock-climbing routes, most of which had to be
by-passed or negotiated laboriously, rather than joyously, because of
a load of rocks or a theodolite in one s rucksack.

By February 13 the party was ready to leave the southwest end
of the mountain belt, feeling reasonably satisfied with the surveying
and geological work done in the time available. Most of the survey
stations had been on nunataks lying a little apart from the main
range, and from these an overlapping photographic coverage of the
mountain wall, with relatively few "blind spots" was obtained. Most
of the conspicuous points were tied into the triangulation network.
The geologists had managed to visit all but one of the main massifs,
had made excursions across the range to the edge of the inland ice,
and followed the rock sequence to the top of about half of the major
peaks. The mountains were found to consist mainly of highly meta
morphosed rocks. As a careful study of the whole range was out of
the question, geological mapping became a matter of a general ex
amination of as much rock as possible, supplemented by more de
tailed investigations of limited, selected areas.

Reluctantly turning our backs on this fascinating range, we struck
southwest toward the long rock escarpment that divides the two main
branches of the Pencksokka ice stream. The remarkable spell of fine
weather seemed to have about run its course; clouds hid the moun-

175

The White Desert

tains and overcast skies gave a diffused light that made the snow sur
face and horizon almost or completely invisible. The surface of this
part of the great glacier is rolling, and in places alarmingly crevassed;
with no dark objects, and no highlights or shadows upon which to
focus the eyes and judge distances, and no horizon to aid in estimat
ing slopes, progress became quite trying.

On the morning of the second day on this glacier, Tony, Roer s lead
dog suddenly disappeared. The second dog in the team also dropped
from sight, leaving the third, an intelligent and likeable fellow named
Peik, braced quietly across a two-foot-wide crevasse, supporting his
tandem-hitched teammates. It was but the work of a moment to get
the second dog out, but Tony, who had dropped about six feet, had
braced himself rigidly from wall to wall over the black abyss, and at
first refused to be moved. Finally a bulge in the crevasse lip had to be
chopped away before he could be extricated.

Since we left Gockelkammen, we had not again sighted the escarp
ment that was our objective. After a distance estimated to be twenty-
five or thirty miles in a straight line had been covered, a series of
large crevasses was reached, and it soon became apparent that we
were becoming involved in a very extensive area of broken ice. The
boundaries of the area were not visible, and despite short recon
naissance trips on skis it was impossible to determine which direction
to turn to reach safer ground. It was decided to proceed, cautiously,
on course. Most of the crevasses were partly bridged and some were
entirely covered, but the bridges of most were a yard or two below the
surrounding ice level. Consequently, as each crevasse was crossed
in turn, the team and laden sledge had to jump from the high wall
on to the doubtful bridge, scuttle across the bridge as rapidly as pos
sible, then climb the slope to solid ice on the other side; after which
a sigh of relief would be given by all concerned, and man and dogs
would turn to watch the next team.

The interior of a large crevasse has a simple, sinister beauty that
cannot fail to impress, to some degree, all who are privileged to see
it. The TDOttomless" appearance of some of them is hard to explain.
Most of the large crevasses, if "clean," probably have a depth of about
125 feet; it is doubtful if any on the open ice are more than 180 feet

176

Untrodden Peaks and Glaciers

deep; and very many of the larger ones are so choked with collapsed
bridges and wind-blown snow that they have an unstable "false floor"
at a depth of fifty or sixty feet. Nevertheless, the main emotion most
people experience when peering into a crevasse is a feeling of in
tense depth; a feeling engendered, no doubt, mainly by the stark
cleanness and smoothness of the walls, upon which a very occasional
small ledge or splintered flake or snow powdered cluster of rime
crystals only seems to emphasize the verticality and implacable im
pregnability of the whole; and by the color a pure glacial blue that
becomes more and more intense until it can almost be heard and felt
before it deepens into indigo and sometimes into blackness.

The crevasses became more numerous, and eventually were little
more than the length of a sledge and team apart. Several were wider
than any that had been met before one was no less than 130 feet
and the "wall" along the south lip became so high that we began to
entertain doubts as to whether the bridges could be negotiated in the
reverse direction if a retreat should be necessary. It was decided to
camp and make a careful reconnaissance on skis.

The next morning Roots and Reece set out with skis, rope, ice ax,
long-handled ice spear and crampons to attempt to find out whether
it was worth while continuing. They soon found themselves in a weird
world of ice canyons and blocks that for sheer fantasy far surpassed
anything yet encountered. The terrain could be likened to a severe
Alpine ice fall, laid flat on its back in featureless surroundings, but
on a much larger scale; in some places it resembled the "badland"
topography of central China or North America duplicated in ice. It
was remarked that the "crevasses" were no longer crevasses, but
merely places where the glacier was missing.

Roots and Reece never reached the other side of the crevassed area,
and never formed any intelligent idea of what its limits were. It was
obvious that the sledges could not continue along their present course,
and that the disturbed area was so large that several days traveling
and reconnaissance would be necessary to by-pass it. It was therefore
decided to abandon the attempt to reach the escarpment.

The next objective was a mountain front east of Borgen. In the con
tinuing infernally bad visibility, the obvious question was: what

177

The White Desert

course should we steer to reach it? Roer, whose everyday thoughts
are usually precise to three places of decimals, spent several minutes
making calculations in his notebook, while his companions waited
expectantly for an answer corrected to the nearest half second. Fi
nally it came: "About northwest" To drive "about northwest" we had
first to retreat northeast along our incoming tracks until well clear
of the crevassed area. The course was then set north-northeast, east
of the crevassed zone, whose eastern edge here runs directly "down
stream" on the great glacier.

During this part of the trip, when there was no surveying or geo
logical work in the immediate past or future to occupy the mind, and,
except for the crevasses, little excitement along the way, the idea of
food was almost always uppermost in everyone s thoughts. We varied
widely in our individual physiological adustment to the sledging diet,
but about seven weeks out from Maudheim, each began to feel a
lack of energy and a slight muscular weakness. Not one of the party
had any complaint about the ingredients of the sledging diet as far
as palatability was concerned; and the unvarying menu of rolled oats
porridge for breakfast, hard biscuits and chocolate for lunch, and
pemmican with potato meal or pea flour for supper did not pall. The
opinion was simply that the ration of one and a half pounds per day
(cut to one and a quarter pounds for the final week of this journey)
was not enough for active work.

The dogs were being fed with about one and a half pounds of food
per day: for two consecutive days they would get a powdery cake of
dried whale meat powder, maize meal and whale oil ( done up, in
keeping with the times, in individual cellophane bags), and on the
third day dried stockfish. The food was far from ideal, and most dogs
suffered more or less continually from diarrhea, but they remained
in quite good condition.

On February 19 we camped on a small saddle east of the main pass
leading to the Advanced Base, and estimated that two days travel
should take us over the pass to the land of big meals". The next morn
ing, Roots and Reece returned from examining the rocks on a nearby
nunatak and were invited by Roer and Robin to a second breakfast

178

Untrodden Peaks and Glaciers

in their tent. Their surprise and delight at being greeted by the aroma
of freshly brewed coffee and frying seal steak and bacon can best be
appreciated by those who have been living for some time on a re
stricted ration with no possibility of between-meals "extras". That
night we camped almost on the crest of the pass, within one easy
day s sledging of the Advanced Base.

Back again in the comparative luxury of the Advanced Base, the
dogs settled down to a feast of whale meat and seal blubber, and
the men pampered themselves for a few days. First they indulged in
some needed sleep, for on much of the journey an eight-hour rest
had been a rare luxury. There were several things to be done at the
Advanced Base before the next trip could start. Notes taken during
the last journey had to be completed, essential survey readings copied
in duplicate, rock specimens labeled and packed. The dogs definitely
needed a rest. It was decided to start for the mountains south of Bor-
gen in about a week.

On the evening of February 25, Robin managed to contact Maud-
heim by radio for the first time for four weeks. The entire camp was
stunned to learn of the accident in Norselbukta.

The question of what was to be done next arose immediately, of
course, and a careful discussion of what the party could do in the
interests of the expedition as a whole continued for several days. Re
ception had not been good enough to discuss this problem with
Giaever, and no further radio contact could be made. The most im
portant fact was that the death of Ekstrom and Quar had left Maud-
heim without a specialized electrical technician or rawin operator;
and a great deal of the base program depended upon instruments
and equipment that needed much more than ordinary "handyman s"
electrical knowledge for their maintenance. Robin was the only re
maining man who had these qualifications; thus there was an advan
tage in his returning as soon as possible. On the other hand, it was
naturally felt to be in the interest of the expedition to do as much
surveying and geological work as the season would permit. It was
finally decided that Robin should wait at the Advanced Base for the
glaciologists, who were in the mountains to the east, and who ex-

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pected to be back there about March 10. Then he would return to
Maudheim. Roer, Roots, and Reece would carry on as a three-man
party.

At this point we return to John Giaever at Maudheim.

180

XX
IN A LAND OF MIDDAY TWILIGHT

I DO NOT want anyone to think that we at Maudheim settled down
quickly after the accident. How long each of us battled with his own
grief I do not know. The empty bunks gaped at us every day until I
gave orders for them to be pulled down. For the rest, we had come
to a tacit agreement that each man should keep his feelings to him
self. It was the only way out for us. On the other hand, nobody must
imagine that we allowed the disaster to crush us. Work was of course
continued with as much efficiency as was possible. We were unani
mous in our wish to control our feelings to the utmost when the field
parties returned. And, indeed, I heard later that the field parties had
resolved to do the same out of consideration for us. Meanwhile we
had what for all of us was a moving experience the families of both
Ekstrom and Quar sent telegrams of sympathy.

But our existence became rather gloomy in other ways too. Hither
to we had been able to afford electric light from early morning till
late at night In addition we had the small electric lamps worked off
batteries. There was an end to all that now. Fortunately we had been
prepared for the risk of failure in the motors, and had brought with
us both oil lamps and Primus lamps and lanterns. Nevertheless, we
now entered upon a dark period in Maudheim, which was to con
tinue until we left the place.

Incident of any kind was rare. On March 15, Hog and Stig were
down at the quay and found that about 270 yards more of the slope
had cracked away; and now the cliff was over thirty feet high at
NorseTs quay. We discussed at great length the possibilities for the
shipment of our stuff next year-from a wall thirty-three feet high.
The same day there was young ice all over the bay, so thick that seals
lay on top of it.

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The White Desert

But the days went by, and on March 26, Robin and Melleby ar
rived back. They asked if there was any beer left-which there was.
The effect the pair of them had on me was rather like that of a mod
erate gale; they were so full of vigor. And Robin started on the rawin
observations that same evening. Next day Stig and Peter began to
thaw one weasel out of the drift, with a Swedish Primus stove under
a canvas shelter. It took a very long time, chiefly because the temper
ature flopped to minus 40F. Yet such an intense heat was kept up
that the canvas finally caught fire. The flame was quickly put out.

Early in March the first southern lights began to show.

About noon on April 5, the glaciological party came driving in to
the base in fine style Schytt, Swithinbank and Wilson. We met them
out on the drift, and the first bits of news were exchanged while the
dogs were being unharnessed. The two facts I took in at once were
that Reece had had a rock splinter in one eye, and that Wilson had
found live animals on the Passat ridge. "But the beasts are very small,"
said Ove, "one can only see them through the microscope. I have two
kinds and some young ones, I think." How he had been able to find
microscopic living animals on a frozen precipice of rock was one of
the questions that must certainly wait. At the moment I was more in
terested in Alan s eye. Why had he not come back directly after the
accident? But Ove s explanation was reassuring.

During the whole summer Schytt had been tormented by a decayed
wisdom tooth, and one evening Ove was to extract it. The rest of us
stood gloating in the blackground. Ove brought out a number of
sinister-looking instruments, and Valter perspired. Then Ove pulled,
but the tooth stayed firm. He pulled again, but the tooth did not
budge. Valter felt ill, and Ove injected more of the local anesthetic.
Ove struggled once more; but the tooth stayed there like a rock, and
Valter used some strange expressions, while Stig went on filming.
Finally they agreed to leave the tooth standing where it stood, since
it was so confoundedly stubborn, and it would be filled instead.

Now came storm after storm. But on April 16, Maudheim had a
red-letter day, with a slight easterly breeze. Valter managed to oper
ate the boring machine, which had been thick in rime for nearly six
months; Robin and Rog got the "second" diesel with generators to

182

In a Land of Midday Twilight

function; Peter started up the thawed weasel and moved it into the
new garage. Days of that kind with successful results are of the ut
most importance on an expedition. They hold out hopes and possi
bilities for the future.

On April 25 Swithinbank and Hallgren went off on a shorter sledg
ing trip to the hill in the southeast Their objective was to check the
measuring stakes which had been erected over there more than six
months before. These had not moved. The men had planned to reach
the summit of the hill, and they found that it was 2,100 feet above
sea level. If possible, they would also try to find a likely connection
between the eastern ice shelf and the ice shelf behind Cape Norvegia;
but the weather interfered with this scheme. So they returned in the
late evening of May 1, having covered on that day approximately
forty-five miles with a load of about eighty-four pounds per dog.

On May 2 Rog changed the generator and vane on the new wind-
charger. On the night of May 2-3, the whole wind-charger was blown
down and the vane had vanished. Robbie and Peter replaced the old
motor on the weasel. Valter began to bore farther into the old 160-
foot-deep bore hole.

I had not really been told when Roots, Roer and Reece might be
expected back. Instructions as to the return had purposely been made
elastic, but all the same it had been taken for granted that the parties
would have arrived home not later than the end of April or the be
ginning of May. Meanwhile it was quite likely that the parties them
selves would make the decision while out on the field work, well
provided as they were with both food and kerosine. We did indeed
call up the R-party on the radio every evening; but, as we found out
later, they had long ago ceased to use the sledge radio sets and had
dumped them at the Advanced Base. Inquiries about the party were
arriving from home.

Naturally the question was discussed as the month of May wore
on, and we agreed that a relief party ought to be sent southward un
less we had made contact with the R-party by May 20. A message
to this effect was transmitted over the radio every evening. From
what I could gather later, the message was understood only by ama
teurs in Asker (near Oslo) and somewhere in California. The first

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The White Desert

weasel was taken for a trial run on May 14; but we could not think
of using it for a potential relief expedition.

On May 20 Schytt liad instructions to prepare, together with
Melleby and Wilson, two dog teams with two tents and stores for
about three weeks. The party was to carry a sledge radio and field
medical outfit. Valter was given strict orders to bear in mind, above
all, the safety of his own party, and he must in no circumstances do
more than a fortnight s journey from Maudheim before turning back.

The weather conditions delayed the start until May 24, and the
party had a couple of lie-up days in a blizzard. Radio contact was
good on most evenings. On the twenty-ninth we heard that they had
met the R-party and all was well. The next day they all arrived back.
The field party were in splendid form, but the dogs were thoroughly
exhausted.

These three men had now been away from the main base for
about five and a half months. Certainly they had at intervals lived
at and on the main depot of the Advanced Base but even so this was
a record length for Antarctic sledging journeystaking into account
every one of their predecessors. Yet the men had in no sense been
out to break records. Serious research had been their only task and
aim. What the last month in particular must have meant in strenuous
effort and the difficulties of bad weather and increasing cold and
darkness, probably will never be known to anyone at least not in
full. My personal view is now that it is hardly advisable or worth
wliile to extend Antarctic sledging journeys beyond the end of April.

While Maudheim prepared for the long, monotonous, dark season
ahead, the topographical-geological party pressed ahead in the field
to -finish its work. Fred Roots describes this final phase and the anx
iety caused by the unfortunate accident in which Alan Reece was
struck in the eye by a splinter of rock while gathering geological
samples:

Roer, Roots and Reece started from the Advanced Base for the
southern mountains on March 3. We now had twenty-five dogs and
the three large sledges. One two-man pyramid tent and a lightweight

184

In a Land of Midday Twilight

pup tent for the third man were taken. Because of the disappointing
results of the attempt to keep up two-way radio communication on
the previous journey, wireless equipment was limited to a lighter
battery-powered receiver, to be used for obtaining time signals.

Now alone at the Advanced Base, Robin had time to make himself
comfortable and to tidy up the depot Another pyramid tent had been
erected as a bathhouse, and in this Robin set up the radio hand-
generator in such a manner that it could be worked bicycle-fashion
with the feet, leaving the hands free to operate the radio and the
transmitting key. He was finally able to contact Maudheim and tell
of the party s change in plans.

Meanwhile, the three of us starting south had been making rather
poor progress. In the light winds and the moderately low tempera
tures, the fresh snow from the last storm had failed to consolidate,
and was now a dry, sandy material that was one of the worst possible
running surfaces for the sledges. By sundown of the first day we had
covered so little distance that it was jokingly proposed to walk back
to the Advanced Base for supper. The next day it was obvious that
relaying was essential. Loads were halved, and with the dogs pulling
as hard to move 51 pounds each as they normally would for a full load,
a fair run was made, and we camped near the foot of the northwest
ridge of Borgen.

The next morning we started in bright sunshine to bring up the
supplies left at the relay point. We had trotted and galloped down
hill with empty sledges for about eight miles when a creeping wall
of drifting snow, backed by dense clouds, blanked out the distant
Gburektoppane and moved up from the great glacier to the east. A
storm was in the offing and it was deemed prudent to return to camp.
We reached the tents just as the wind began to increase. A gale soon
developed, confining us to the tents for two days.

On March 9 we moved the camp and about half our supplies south
ward past the west cliffs of Borgen and camped below a large rugged
nunatak that lies about nine miles west of the main line of mountains.
This nunatak is of very striking outline: it is about two miles long
and rises nearly 1,600 feet above the surrounding ice. The lowermost
third of the nunatak is composed of nearly horizontal yellow-green

185

The White Desert

and gray-brown sedimentary beds that have been carved away steep
ly and smoothly on all sides to form a great graceful pedestal support
ing a thin, straight, flat-topped wall of dark brown igneous rock, deep
ly notched at the northern end into spectacular needles and towers.

During the day we had passed a large, crescentic ridge whose
smooth crestiine was interrupted at the very summit by a small ver
tical tower, quite out of harmony with the rounded outlines of the
rest of the nunatak. At first it was thought that the glaciologists must
have visited the ridge and left a cairn on its crest; then it was realized
that the tower was far too large to be an ordinary survey cairn. The
next day, March 10, while Roer and Reece set up a survey station at
the foot of the wall-like nunatak, Roots visited this ridge, and found
the "cairn" to be an astonishing solitary pillar, about twenty feet
high and 6x6 feet in cross section, poised on the smooth flat summit
of the nunatak close to the brink of a cliff . The pillar is made of al
ternate layers of crumbly chocolate- colored shale and hard yellow
sandstone, stacked one upon the other in such an apparently insecure
manner that it appeared that a few hours work could demolish it
completely.

On March 11, while Roots visited a series of nunataks to the north
west and west, Roer and Reece set off to establish a survey station on
one of the low stump-like nunataks south of the camp.

Later in the afternoon Reece was working at the base of one of
these nunataks, where sedimentary beds are cut by thin dykes of
basaltic material. These small dykes, which must have been suddenly
chilled when they were injected as molten rock into cracks in the
sediments, are extremely brittle and shatter like glass when broken.
While hammering at such a rock, Reece was struck on the eye by a
flying fragment about the size of a fingernail. The rock chip did not
enter the eye itself, but struck on the outside of the eyelid. The blow,
however, was of such force that even after the first stunned shock had
worn off, it was apparent that more than superficial damage had been
done. Reece started immediately for camp, about four and a half
miles away.

Reece woke the next morning in little discomfort beyond that due
to the bruise on his eyebrow and eyelid: a genuine music-hall-comedy

186

In a Land of Midday Twilight

"black eye." He found, however, that lie was totally unable to focus
the eye, or to distinguish anything except light and darkness. As the
day wore on, Reece s eye began to pain, and finally the discomfort
became so intense that a sedative and a local eye anesthetic were
necessary. The man whose advice we needed most was Ove Wilson,
but he was with the glaciological party, whose whereabouts we did
not exactly know. At about this time, that party should have been
returning, or have already returned, to the Advanced Base.

The eye was almost completely blind; its iris had become deranged,
so that the pupil was almost unrecognizable; and Roer and Roots
realized that Reece had lost the use of that organ for a long time, if
not permanently. It was decided that he must be got to the Advanced
Base, where there was a more complete medical kit, and better food
and accommodations.

On March 14, Reece felt considerably better, and at first protested
against our planned return to the Advanced Base. When the objec
tion was overruled, he insisted on being allowed to drive his own
team. At the Advanced Base we found messages to the effect that
Robin and Melleby had started for Maudheim, and that Schytt,
Swithinbank and Wilson were due back from the vicinity of "Borgen"
in about a week. We settled down to wait.

After three or four days at the Advanced Base, Reece was practi
cally his old self again, except that he could only see with one eye.
The injured eye, although now useless, seemed to be quite healed.
On March 18 we engaged in a little skiing practice on a small slope
near the camp, and Reece found the challenge of estimating grades
and slopes without the help of stereoscopic vision quite stimulating.
The next day something more strenuous was called for, and Reece and
Roots attacked the main west peak of the near-by nunatak Pyramiden,
which had not yet been climbed.

The geologists were about halfway up Pyramiden when they saw
the glaciologists arrive at the Advanced Base. They continued the
climb, however, and were rewarded by a most enjoyable day. The
summit was reached after two hours of step-cutting up the edge of a
smooth steep ice slab. On the highest point Reece and Roots built a
substantial cairn to mark the site of the Advanced Base, the nearest

187

The White Desert

approach to a settlement yet established in the interior of Queen
Maud Land. They left an appropriate note in it.

That evening Ove Wilson made a careful examination of Reece s
eye. It was now eight days since the accident, and there was no sign
of infection. Healing seemed practically complete, and Wilson con
sidered there was little further that could be done until an operation
could be performed by a specialist. He saw nothing to be gained by
a return to Maudheim at this juncture, if Reece felt fit enough to carry
on field work. Reece s answer was that he had just returned from a
good climb on Pyramiden.

The glaciological party left for Maudheim the next morning
(March 20), talcing with them, to the geologists delight, nearly four
hundred and fifty pounds of rock specimens. Before his departure,
Wilson instructed Roots in emergency measures to be carried out in
the event that the eye did not finish healing as smoothly as anticipated.

Reece s condition became worse, rather than better, and in a day
or two it was apparent that there was something very wrong with the
injured eyeball itself. At this time the eye was receiving daily treat
ment with mild antiseptic and an eye-healing ointment, but this was
not enough apparently; a tiny spot of infection developed at the small
crack of the cornea noticed just after the accident, and spread rapidly.
The situation became critical; and in the early morning of March 26
(it was Easter Monday) , Roots was forced to make a difficult decision
to cauterize the eyeball. The eye was partially anesthetized, and be
fore Reece realized the full implication of what was being done,
Roots had dropped iodine onto the swollen, infected organ.

That night Reece slept peacefully for the first time for nearly a
week. Two days later all outward signs of infection had disappeared,
although the eye remained bloodshot. Reece was, however, quite
weak, and it was not until five days later that he felt fit enough to go
sledging. In the meantime the supply dump comprising the Advanced
Base was rearranged and repacked, to make it as shipshape as pos
sible for the coming winter and the following field season.

We left the Advanced Base on our second attempt at a southern
journey on April Fool s Dayperhaps an appropriate date. In defer
ence to the lateness of the season, we took two full-sized pyramid

188

In a Land of Midday Twilight

tents, and a stove for each. Passing again below the western cliffs of
Borgen, we headed directly for a narrow and picturesque pass east
of "Domen" ("the Dome"). We crossed this pass on April 3, and no
ticed sledge tracks made by Schytt s party the previous January. A
strong head wind was blowing through the pass, raising an unpleas
ant, writhing drift of cutting ice particles. Try as we could, by ducking
our heads and adjusting our hoods, we could not keep our noses un
frozen. When we camped, close under the southeast cliffs of Domen,
the thermometer registered minus 41F.

We were now in the remarkably straight, parallel-sided, sheet-
walled feature that Schytt had named "Rodbergsdalen ." This feature
is not really a valley, for its floor contains two passes and two low
points" at which ice drainage meets head-on before escaping to the
side; it is rather a peculiar corridor, thirty-one miles long and from
three and a half to five miles wide, that cuts through the very center
of the cluster of mountains south of Borgen like a gigantic city street
lined by block buildings. It is a scenic district; the northwest side
of the "street," formed by Domen, Rodberg, the south end of Borgen,
and several other massifs, is characterized by sheer, bare cliffs of rich
olive-brown and reddish-brown rock, in places horizontally layered,
in places built of innumerable vertical columns like thousands of
broken organ pipes, topped by thick blue ice cliffs as if the summit
ice caps were peeping over the edge to see where they might be able
to get down. Here and there the dark cliffs are interrupted by narrow
ice cascades of awe-inspiring steepness.

On April 4, Roots went off to investigate the rocks of Domen and
the mountains to the west of it, while Roer and Reece drove over to
the camp site that had been evacuated three weeks earlier, and
picked up the supplies there. It was a beautiful day, although cold
(minus 31F). The dog sledge run was easy and enjoyable, and we
seemed to be off to a good start on our southern trip at last. However,
when Roer and Reece returned to camp and started to prepare sup
per they experienced the first severe case of that annoying malady
known as "Primus trouble" an affliction that was to plague us more
or less continuously for the remainder of the season. Despite the ap
plication of a variety of remedies exchange of burners, new nipples,

189

The White Desert

pricking, reaming and blowing only a pitifully feeble flame could
be obtained from the stove.

Very sandy, sticky snow was met in Rodbergsdalen, and the sledges
ran so poorly that for the next few moves it was necessary to depot
part of our load and send one sledge back for it. Our first objective
in this area was a large mountain on the southeast wall of the cor
ridor. A little shelf on the lower slopes of this mountain provided an
inviting camping place; and Roer set about erecting camp, while
Reece and Roots, with the latter s team, went back for the extra load.

The camp proved to be one of the best bases for geological and sur
veying work we ever had. Roer set up a short-base, stereographic-
photo-survey station within a few hundred yards of the tents. Reece
helped him with this for a while, then climbed a large rock buttress
directly above the camp and studied a series of red, desert-type sand
stones and mudstones. Roots wandered off to look at rocks and to
reconnoiter a route to the top of the mountain that would be practical
for men loaded with survey equipment. He was rewarded by the
discovery of a little gully-glacier that twisted down from the summit
ice-cap and made a smooth, though steep, highway leading to the
upper reaches of the mountain.

The next day Roer completed his readings at the station near camp,
while Reece and Roots investigated each wall of the Rodbergsdalen
corridor. This was the first full-day tour Reece had carried out en
tirely alone since his accident nearly a month before; and it was with
relief and gratification that his comrades heard him report that all
had gone well and that during part of the day he had forgotten his
injury.

April 8 dawned clear. It was to be a memorable day. All three of us
set out to establish a survey station on the main massif behind the
camp. At this season a full rucksack-load of spare clothing was
needed at the top. We left skis behind and walked on crampons di
rectly from the tents to the summit in about three and a half hours,
following the route used by Roots two days previously. The peak was
thereafter know as Station 18. As a survey station, it was outstanding.
We had our first close and comprehensive view of the immense trough
of Pencksokka and of the great glacier system to which its ice stream

190

In a Land of Midday Twilight

belongs. We saw the unbelievably great extent of the chaotically cre-
vassed area in which we had become entangled in February. Station
18 proved to be the highest station occupied that season 8,000 feet
above sea level.

Not the least interesting feature of this view was the fact that one
of the two surviving Schwabenland photographs of the region covered
by our field work was taken from an airplane flying almost directly
over Station 18. Our cameras were thus able to provide us with what
nearly amounts to a duplicate of the German picture, and we have
the chance to check any changes in ice cover, etc., that may have taken
place in the intervening twelve years.

While the others completed the triangulation readings, Roots made
a circuit of the top of the massif, checking such rock peaks and ribs
as could be reached from the ice cap; then, on the way down,
branched off along a rather airy ardte whose main claim to fame was
that it formed the foreground of the much studied Schwabenland
photograph.

It had been our intention to return to the Advanced Base by a
roundabout route to the east of Borgen. However, because of bad
weather and poor snow surfaces, we were a little behind schedule.
The threatened shortage of food should we be delayed by more bad
weather, and the more serious and immediate shortage of fuel, de
cided us to abandon the circuitous homeward journey in favor of a
more direct route west of our outward track.

On April 18, under low scudding clouds and a rising wind, we
"broke camp to start the return journey. By the time the sledges were
loaded and the dogs harnessed, a storm was fairly upon us. It seems
strange in retrospect, but each of us was apparently so absorbed in
doing his own accustomed tasks in connection with striking camp
and hitching the teams, that it was not until we actually got under
way that we realized that visibility was almost nil. We had not moved
a sledge length before we temporarily lost contact with each other.
After reassembling, we had a hurried consultation, and decided to
try to reach the floor of the valley, as the slope we were now on was
very exposed to the wind. So we started again, Tony in the lead.
Much of the time it was quite impossible for the driver to see his lead

191

The White Desert

dog; and, what was worse, it was equally impossible for the lead dog
to hear the shouted commands of the driver.

Soon it became obvious that further progress was foolhardy. If we
lost contact for more than a few seconds on that great windswept
slope, the chances of reuniting would be very small indeed. The
average visibility was somewhat less than five yards. One always
tended to face downwind, to think downwind, and, unless one made a
continual conscious effort to force oneself in the opposite direction, to
move downwind. We decided to camp. The distance covered since the
last camp was generally agreed to be about 300 yards. Only one tent
was erected at this camp. The wind was steadily increasing in force,
and there was some speculation about whether the storm might de
velop into a real record-breaker. A wind break of snow blocks, about
man-high, was built to ease the strain on the battered tent; then we
crawled inside to await better weather.

The wind dropped quite suddenly in the morning of April 21, and
we looked out under cloudy but broken skies, with a faint rose glow
to the northeast giving a half-hearted promise of a fair day.

Just as we were finishing loading the sledges, Roer realized that
his toes were becoming frostbitten. So the partially collapsed tent
was re-erected, and Roer crawled inside with the precious Primus
and restored circulation before any damage was done. When we
were ready to move off again, Reece felt that one of his toes was also
"going," but considered that it would soon warm up once we got
under way. The readiness with which extremities began to freeze on
this morning was largely due to the fact that we had not been able
to use the stove to dry our stockings properly during the past days.

The gale had, indeed, improved the surface a little, although it was
still far from good; and with our present light loads we were able to
maintain a fairly reasonable speed. Fortunately, just as the sun set
a beautiful full moon arose, and we decided to keep going, by moon
light, while we had the chance. We covered about nineteen miles, thus
making the longest non-relay run of this journey.

The next day, on an exasperatingly deteriorating surface, we passed
close by the fateful nunatak upon which Reece had damaged his
eye, and eventually found ourselves off the northwest ridge of Borgen.

192

Charles Switbinbank

Plate 11. Camp in front of the Borgen Massif

Charles Swithinbank

Plate 12. Planning a route in the Borgen mountains

In a Land of Midday Twilight

Camp that night followed what was becoming a standard pattern:
three men squeezed into a tent, the stove on only long enough to heat
our supper and liquid for the morning, stiff frozen sleeping bags, and
cold breakfast except for a drink from the vacuum flasks.

We were now on familiar ground, and should have been able to
reach the Advanced Base in a single day s run. But fog and mod
erately heavy snowstorms plagued us; the surface was as bad as it
had ever been; and with no visible landmarks, it was difficult to hold
the dogs on course.

The next morning, April 24, visibility was as bad as ever. Conditions
were good enough for traveling, but as we knew we were only a few
hours drive from the Advanced Base (though we were not sure of
the exact direction to be taken to reach it), there was no point in
starting until we could definitely see our way. However, about noon
Reece poked his head out for a routine inspection, and reported that
he could see a nunatak. We found that we were to the west of the
correct course; this gave Roots an opportunity to visit and sample a
nunatak that had so far escaped the geologists attention. Otherwise
the trip to the Advanced Base was without incident.

On April 29 we left the Advanced Base for the last time that season.
Our loads were heavy, calculated at from eighty-five to ninety-eight
pounds per dog exclusive of the sledge, and we found subsequently
that we had considerably underestimated the weight of our rock
samples. The snow surface was like coarse sandpaper, and the track
behind the sledge was not packed smooth but had the appearance of
having been roughened with a stiff wire brush.

After the first day it was necessary to relay our loads. We were at
tempting to follow the well-established "highway" between the Ad
vanced Base and Maudheim, but missed the first flag, only three miles
from the Advanced Base; and after a short, futile search decided to
head directly towards the first depot.

Thereafter one day was much like another. We would break camp
(or, if we were relaying, just leave it) in semi-darkness, and push
and puff behind the sledges, while the dogs pulled and puffed in
front, and a deep wash of saffron and rose would spread over the
northern sky. Then a few long bars of dark gray cloud would sud-

193

The White Desert

denly explode into magenta; the horizon would become golden or a
piercing sodium-yellow; and a thin flattened crescent of heatless fire
would roll smoothly over the edge of the purple-shadowed ice mantle.
All in a minute a drab little team, panting and straining in the twi
light, would be transformed into a gilded procession, with upcurled
plumy tails and rippling shoulder-niffs glittering and iridescent -still
panting and straining, but blowing clouds of orpiment, and matched
step for step by enormous and grotesque blue shadows. The sunrise
would continue its blaze of color until noon; after that we called it
sunset.

Reece s damaged eye had been receiving a daily application of
salve since March 20, but now, as there had been no apparent change
in the organ for more than a month, this treatment was discontinued.

It was May 8 before we reached the first depot, at Flag 21, thirty
miles from the Advanced Base. Our arrival at the depot was rather
dramatic, for we had seen no flags or indications of the route for the
previous nine days.

From this depot onward, we never let ourselves get off the flagged
route. The broad ridge, from whose crest one gets the first glimpse of
the mountains when traveling out from Maudheim, was crossed in re
lays and on its northwest slope, beside the friendly little nunatak For-
stef jell, forty-seven miles from the Advanced Base, we were able, for
the first time, to proceed slowly and laboriously with full loads.

The hours of daylight were steadily becoming fewer. Luckily, at
this time the moon was again waxing full, although it was in the sky
partly during the daylight hours. When the sky was clear we were
able to break camp and get under way in the mornings by moonlight,
but we usually pitched camp "by touch" after it became too dark
to drive farther.

By May 16 our progress had become so slow that we realized we
were wearing out our gallant dogs without getting anywhere. Re
laying was again called for; in mid-afternoon we left half our load,
including our camping gear, at a flag (No. 63) marked with a snow
cairn, and pushed on with the remainder. We hoped to pass another
two flags, about three miles, in all, and return. As we did so the
weather thickened and a thin fog developed. By the time we reached

194

In a Land of Midday Twilight

the first flag, conditions were such that it looked as if we might have
difficulty following the track on our return, but we decided to proceed
for another mile, where the next flag should have been marked by an
empty gasoline drum. At the end of the mile, no drum or flag could
be seen, so we hastily dumped our loads and started back to Flag 63,
where we had left our camping gear.

Visibility was so poor in the light fog and rapidly gathering gloom
that our main hope of finding Flag 63 was to follow our outgoing
tracks, which under any normal light would have showed clearly in
the soft snow. But in these conditions the drivers could see nothing
whatever ahead of the dogs. Accordingly, Roots went ahead on skis,
to try to follow the trail himself and, as it were, "lead" Tony. This
method worked, but was very slow and trying; it was getting darker
all the time, and trail-finding was mostly by feel. Nevertheless all
worked out well.

On May 19, Reeces team was obviously unfit for travel and it
rested in camp while Roer and Roots took their dogs back for the
half -loads that had been dumped in the fog three days previously.
They were able to pick up all their own loads, plus some of Reece s,
but about four hundred pounds, mainly rock specimens, had to be
left for possible collection next season.

The days were becoming so short that, after the moon waned, the
available traveling time would be seriously curtailed. The weather
was, on the whole, becoming more and more unsettled. One team
was quite played out, and while the other two were still fairly strong,
we could not afford to take chances of exhausting them also. So we
resolved to lighten loads to the utmost. All the rocks and miscella
neous gear were piled at the halfway depot.

On May 22 we left the depot and started down the relatively steep
slope to the ice shelf. For days we had been promising the dogs that
they could have a free-wheeling gallop down this slope, to make up
for their past labors. But when we came to the slope we were dis
appointed; the surface was so sandy that the dogs had to pull, albeit
less hard, all the way down. We reached the bottom of the slope just
as it became dark; Roer found one flag in the dusk and drove on a
compass bearing toward the next. This part of the country is charac-

195

The White Desert

terized by large sastrugi, around and over which the dogs had to
scramble; the sledges side-slipped and jumped, so that it was extreme
ly difficult to hold a steady course or estimate distance. Therefore,
when Roer stopped, saying we should be at the next flag, it was
scarcely to be expected that the flag was very close. While Roer held
Tony on course ( though it was so dark that he could hardly see him ) ,
Roots, who had drawn up behind, went around on skis to search a bit.
He had only gone about eight yards when he came to a thin bamboo
pole, quite invisible from two yards away the flag!

The next day, however, even in the comparative brilliance of the
midday twilight, our navigation was not all it should have been. We
found one flag, and then for the rest of that day and all of the next
saw no more.

We were now down on the ice shelf, and were floundering in softer
snow than we had met during the entire season. The sledges sank
until their decking ploughed the snow, and the retracted sledge
brakes, normally well clear of the surface, dug deep continuous
grooves. The dogs sank to their bellies at times the leaders seemed
to be almost submerged.

Soon, however, conditions began to improve slightly; the soft snow
was not quite so deep, and hard wind-blown patches, the first we had
seen for many a day, appeared here and there. When it became too
dark to drive farther that afternoon (May 26), we had reached the
crest of the gentle roll in the ice shelf that marks the edge of the cre-
vassed belt below "Departure Depot." We felt as if we were almost
home.

It was foggy the next morning, and we spent more than two hours
searching for the trail, only to find the flag for which we were looking
close to where we had camped. The route marked for the weasel trips
the previous spring was now followed into the crevassed area. Some
of the crevasses had opened considerably during the summer, and
Roots and Reece left their teams and led, on skis, through the most
active belt and up to "Departure Depot." It was again, quite dark,
and a downslope wind was raising an unpleasant drift by the time
the last team was brought into camp.

The boxes of rock specimens that the glaciological party had taken

196

In a Land of Midday Twilight

from the Advanced Base for us were piled at this depot We saluted
Schytt, Swithinbank, and Wilson; they had got their full load farther
than we.

Heavily drifting snow and a penetrating wind provided us with
an excuse for a late start the next day, but we finally got away and
crept up the last hill of the homeward journey.

Just before noon the next day, and as we were congratulating our
selves that the surface was hard and slippery and that we were finally
really coming down the last hill to the Maudheim ice shelf, Reece
spied two dark objects on the crest of the hill to the southwest. At
first we thought it must be the inland boring base which the glaci-
ologists had planned to set up on this Ml, but presently the objects
resolved themselves into two dog teams. In a few minutes we were ex
changing greetings with Schytt, Melleby and Wilson, while forty-five
dogs held a noisy reunion. Naturally, our first words to them were:
"Where were you fellows going? You were a long way off the track!"
Then together we set off down the hill, with Schytt s team leading.
The encounter had an amazing effect upon our dogs. Where before
they had been plugging along steadily but a little dispiritedly, they
now fairly raced along in their eagerness, and as it was downhill on a
hard surface, the sledge brakes, unused for weeks, came into almost
continuous play.

As we thought of our impending arrival at Maudheim, there was a
lump in each of our throats, not at all directed against those who had
so unselfishly come out to help us home, but just a vague mortifica
tion and sadness that we should not be permitted to come all the way
"under our own steam." We felt it a little humiliating to be "rescued,"
just when we thought we were doing quite well. We reached the bot
tom of the hill and drove far out on the Maudheim ice shelf before
camping.

The next day, Schytfs team set a steady, relatively fast pace across
the slippery, wind-packed surface of the ice shelf. At dusk, by dead
reckoning, we estimated that we should be close to Maudheim, but
it was nowhere to be seen,

.Our course then became erratic, as we followed one false lead after
another. It was late afternoon and quite dark when gimlet-eyed Roer

197

The White Desert

finally spotted a tiny glimmer off to the north the Maudheim mast-
light. As we drew near to the chained dogs, the piles of stores and
litter, the rawin hut, and the masts and ventilator stacks that signi
fied "home," a half-dozen bright lanterns suddenly appeared and
darted to and fro, like fireflies. The welcoming committee was out.

We drove right in among the dog lines, and found spaces for our
own teams on the newly laid wire spans. Then, with a heartfelt pat to
our loyal and gallant companions, we removed the harnesses for the
last time that season, and helped Swithinbank and Hallgren deliver
an enormous piece of juicy seal meat to the world s most deserving
huskies. The topographical-geological field season was over.

From Fred Roots account, we now return to John Giaever

198

XXI
A LONG WINTER IN STORM AND DARKNESS

ROBBIE had to go out of doors to do some tidying up, and he was
trying to get Gosta out with him to help. Said Robbie: "Old man, will
you come along and get a bit of fresh air, or do you think that a bit of
fresh air will get you?"

The remark wedged itself well into my memory, because it was so
entirely apt not only on that stormy day, but altogether for the whole
second winter in Maudheim. This was now the exact opposite of the
calm and dark season of the year before. So the Antarctic could blow
even harder than we thought. And incessant storms are trying, not
only where all the work and the observations out of doors are con
cerned, but also in their psychological effect It is wearisome to hear
the wind hammering and roaring in the stovepipe for weeks on end.
When in addition one is obliged to live and work in the gloomy dusk
of oil lamps, this twilight atmosphere is in the long run not very
cheering to the spirits.

In such a situation food is a great help. Snarby had indeed been an
excellent cook the first year; but we were soon aware that quiet little
Bjarne Lorentzen from L0dingen was a culinary artist. He played not
only on the flute, but also with real virtuosity on our gustatory nerves.
He "composed" dishes with the relatively limited resources at his dis
posal in such a way that many a man among us was all too often
tempted beyond the bounds of prudence. I have never tasted such
food in any polar region.

Despite the new cook and new weather conditions, the second
winter, naturally enough, was in many ways a repetition of the first.
Life was made up of work and the work was, on the whole, always
alike. At the same time, the results of each man s research were grad-

199

The White Desert

ually becoming more evident the import of the work grew more
apparent as the months passed and the consummation of the all-
round survey drew nearer.

And yet, the tireless chase pursued that winter by Valter, Gosta
and Swithinbank was thrilling, for all of us. They chased after ice
crystals. Not snowflakes or glacier crystals; no, the tiny jewels of the
frosty night glinting in the haze above the winter landscape and in
the whiteness of one s own breath. They caught them on small oil-
covered glass plates and put them in the microscope in the ice labora
tory. By a very ingenious method, they photographed the crystals
direct on to the paper under the light of the microscope and then de
veloped the pictures. And the results were fantastic,

Valter had also made new drilling bits for the glaciologists ice
borer. After he and Charles had tested them and gone on filing and
adjusting for a while, he worked out a more practical design which
eliminated the risk of crushing the core in the drill. With Stig as a will
ing helper, they ground their way deeper and deeper each day into
the mysteries of the ice shelf, hauled up samples from great depths
and cut them, examined structures under the microscope going on
for weeks and months on end. There were still some setbacks and
trouble. One day in June they lost a twenty-foot length of rod down in
the hole, and this might have meant that they must begin all over
again; but by sheer luck Valter hit the top itself with a new 180-foot
length of rod, and managed to screw it firm!

By the middle of June it was time to begin making out the plans for
the next summer s field work even though we did not yet know to
what extent we could rely on using the weasels, when we had only
two amateur mechanics. It was quite plain that the original program
must be cut down and that each group would have to sacrifice some
thing.

Would Alan be fit to go out on any more sledging trips? This was
a question that caused us anxiety and misgivings. But the question
was really far more serious than that. From the condition which had
developed in the bruised eye, it looked as though there were a risk
that infection from Alan s damaged eye would spread and blind the
sound one also unless the bad eye was removed.

200

/, to** r*!4 1 -s ;&, * ?c ^

W * ^ /(-", , nj^ wr /> * t

13

A Wedclcll seal on
the ice in Norsolbnktu

Eiupc k ror penguins

Photos: v

Plate 14

Photos

The Advanced Base, at the foot of Pyramiden nunatak, October, 1951

A Long Winter in Storm and Darkness

But to remove an eye in the conditions in which we lived! I dis
cussed the matter with Wilson, who obviously gave it deep considera
tion. I don t know what his feeling was about the responsibility that
would fall on him in face of such a contingency. He said nothing
about that. But he had never even been present at an eye operation;
and he was without the specialized instruments that would be re
quired. He very soon got in touch with his former teacher at Lund
University, the eye specialist Professor Sven Larsson. From him Ove
then received the first instructions on examination and treatment, and
later on the operation itself since it turned out that the sight in the
left eye also was definitely threatened.

Alan with most of the others was kept in the dark about the real
gravity of the situation. Meanwhile he offered to make new dog
rations.

The "southern Christmas" came once more, with every imaginable
dainty in the way of "smorgis" from Sweden, candied fruits from Eng
land, macaroon cake from Norway. Bjarne saluted the occasion with
roast chicken and mushrooms and a symphony of Christmas pastries.
On the day after, the hurricane was howling over Maudheim; but
that was perhaps just as well for some of us.

What a tempest it was I July gave us eighteen days of storm, which
built up the drift again till it was thick over the houses and obstructed
their ventilation. We ourselves felt the effects of the poor air. Then
Valter suggested that we should put up a series of air-cones ten feet
high so that the driving snow should not fill them. Peter made up and
fixed eight such cones at various places in the corridors, and there
after the problem was solved.

Before June had gone on its gusty way, Robbie and Peter had suc
ceeded in starting up both the weasels; and they said the engines
should hold out. Next, however, four tracks had to be dug up out of
the drift and then reinforced. This work on the tracks could not very
well be done out of doors in darkness and cold and storm; so July
ushered in a period of intense activity in our house. One after another
the tracks were dragged down there and piled up between the medi
cal and meteorological sections.

In the middle of July, Wilson received a message from Professor

201

The White Desert

Larsson that Alan s eye must be removed if he were to have any
chance of keeping the sight of the sound left eye. Ove had reckoned
with this possibility, and for a long time had been studying all the
literature on the subject that he had with him. His next move, there
fore, was to ask for advice about the operation itself, and then he set
about the final preparations. Like the jack-of -all-trades that he is, he
managed to make himself a whole set of instruments! For some he
adapted instruments of a different land, for others he had to improvise
from any materials available even including wire. Fred and Stig
helped him with the finishing touches. Then he chose the men who
were to assist during the operation, and gave them detailed instruc
tion, each one in his particular task.

All this was done in secrecy to save any needless agitation for Alan
himself. Both the making of instruments and the lectures went on late
at night in the radio house.

On July 18, Alan was told. He took it calmly and asked that his
people should not be informed until after the operation. The operation
took place on July 21. It was a prodigious achievement by a young
doctor untried in this sphere, together with his inexperienced assist
ants.

Afterwards I asked Ove Wilson to write an account himself of this
highly dramatic episode, and I reproduce the story here in his own
words:

The situation was dramatic, for I had never before performed or
even seen such an operation, and no one else in Maudheim had any
experience of assisting on a similar occasion. I began the preparations
immediately ( after Professor Larsson s radiogram ) , and inf ormed only
a few of the expedition members, to save causing a commotion all
over the camp. Stig Hallgren received careful instruction in the tech
nique of anesthetic injection and practised on me and others of the
initiated by giving vitamin injections. Fred Roots was appointed
theater assistant, and had to go through each detail of the operation,
with training in the various movements. Valter Schytt learned all the
duties of a nurse on theater duty, and took charge of the instrument
table.

TE myself devised instruments for eye operation from thick steel

202

A Long Winter in Storm and Darkness

wire which was filed, polished, and fixed in handles taken from dental
instruments.

"Then Reece was informed that the operation was necessary and he
gave his consent. We decided that we must go into action three days
later. Peter Melleby built an operating table from sledge boxes and
constructed an oxygen mask from spare parts of the weasels. Opera
tion towels were made from some sheets and gauze bandages; all the
linen and instruments were sterilized. Egil Rogstad was given instruc
tion on the checking of blood pressure; and all helpers met together
to learn about the practical sterilization measures for an operation
and the technique of co-operation with the surgeon. On July 21 all
was ready, and we had everything a small hospital has, if one leaves
out the feminine element.

"At two o clock I put on my gloves and with my assistants began the
sterilization. Three-quarters of an hour later Reece made an impres
sive entry, lay down on the operating table and broke the silence with
this remark: Boys, Tm scared stifE inside!

"I began at once with the anesthetic, and when the patient had lost
consciousness Hallgren took over, whereupon I changed gloves and
made the necessary preparations around the injured eye. While I
waited for the moment to start on the operation, I rehearsed to my
self in silence all the details on which I had been instructed, and won
dered greatly whether I should find the right spot for severing the
optic nerve.

"Slowly but surely Hallgren submerged our patient in ever deeper
sleep. My operating knife made the first incision in the pupil. Roots
assisted with swift and cool precision, Schytt passed the instruments
with absolute assurance, Rogstad followed the blood pressure, Gosta
Liljequist kept the records and took the pulse, Hallgren maintained
the anesthesia always at the right level. The tension was tremendous.
"Suddenly I found the first eye muscle, which I retracted by means
of my homemade instrument. Directly after, I had severed all the
eye muscles. The most dramatic moment came when I was looking
for the optic nerve. The only audible sound was the ticking of the
film camera in the background. After a while I was able to sever the
nerve and take out the eyeball, then tie up the muscles and close the

203

The White Desert

wound. After two hours and forty minutes of tension, the operation
had been successfully carried through. The day after, a tired but
happy patient received the whole base at his bedside. His left eye
was now safe."

I take it for granted that the reader has some conception of the in
tense nervous strain this operation must have entailed for Alan Reece,
and of the courage he evinced in facing it under conditions of such
grotesque improvisation. It is hard enough to be brave when one can
act for oneself. To submit to risks from handling by another must be
vastly more difficult. The whole thing had gone without a hitch. Not
long afterwards Wilson was able to say that the wound was healed,
and there was nothing to prevent Alan from joining in the sledging
journeys which lay ahead.

We saw the sun coming back for the first time on July 26. It was
quite a curious sensation to realize that the last dark season, at any
rate, was over. By now we ought to have come through the worst part
of this expedition. Thereupon July went out with gales and August
brought them in again. By this time we had grown used to the storm-
blast and expected nothing else.

But when blizzards go on for months on end, it is no easy matter
being a dog in the Antarctic. Even so, many of them got through very
well. Our own pups managed best. But some of the old dogs seemed
as if they could not grow a proper coat after the sickness mentioned
earlier, and often we had to take them indoors to thaw the ice off them
and dry them. Things looked critical for a while, because a number
of the dogs began to lose their hair in large patches. A few such cases
had been occurring from the outset, but now many dogs were affected.
For a time we had been feeding them entirely on frozen whale meat,
because this meat was now the most easily accessible in the drift. I
got the men to dig and blast out a good many large seal carcases, and
then we fed the dogs on offal, skin, blubber and bones with the seal
meat. The trouble was pretty well over within a few weeks. The cause
therefore may have been, at least in part, food deficiency, but I also

204

A Long Winter in Storm and Darkness

think the dogs pulled off some of their hair when they tried to bite
away the lumps of ice.

Spring was now on the way, at least so we said, and it really was
a fact that the Antarctic gave us some days of smiling calm and sun
shine. But the smiles were cold. Between August 8 and 11, the tem
perature was often nearer minus 60 than minus 40F. At the same
time, we occasionally had gusts of fresh snow very fresh.

Yet all the same, the light came to us in greater strength every new
day, even though indoors we were still living in gloom as before. I
considered that the actual winter was over when three events took
place in quick succession during the second half of August.

Alan had finished making the dog food and packed it all into the
sledge boxes.

Robbie and Peter finished the weasel tracks and assembled the
second weasel. They had toiled at the job all the winter, side by side
with many other activities, and it was a real feat on the part of those
two amateurs to manage such a complicated and exacting task.

Finally Valter, Charles and Stig finished the drilling operations.
They stopped at a depth of 330 feet. For Valter this was very much a
personal triumph, as in the first instance he had through painstaking
efforts devised practical methods. Now, too, an answer had been
found to that question the solution of which had been his foremost ob
jectiveice formation without influence of water from melted snow.
He, together with his assistants, had found all the stages of transition
from snow down to solid blue crystalline ice. According to what he
had told us, the n6v6 developed into really solid ice from a depth of
about 230 feet and downwards. No one had ever before had an op
portunity of establishing this fact, and in many respects it can prob
ably be said that the glaciological work of this expedition will prove
to be extremely important.

205

XXII
WHERE SUMMER STARTS IN NOVEMBER

LIKE A conquering young god, Robin descended among us ordinary
mortals from his weasel, when on October 8 he pulled up the caravan
under the radio masts of Maudheim.

Well might Robbie feel triumphant. Together with Peter and
Charles, and with Roots to help him, he had taken a convoy of new
supplies 150 miles inland towards the mountains, and thereby laid
sure foundations for the comprehensive field work which was planned
for this last summer. For that matter, Peter had an equal share in this
triumph. Both these amateurs, as we know, had succeeded in the intri
cate task of repairing two worn-out weasels. And if this did take them
a whole winter, it was obvious now that the result had fully justified
the arduous toil.

Robbie came striding over the banks of drift. His smile was a
gleam of white breaking out from between the black beard and the
brown skin. Solemnly he held out his hand to me: "All present and
correct! We had a fine trip, cold and a few little troubles, but Peter
fixed them. Everything s O.K. I don t think it would be at all a bad
plan to have a drink now, for we ve had a devilish rough time crossing
that plain."

I have already explained that the group leaders proposals for the
field work during the second half of 1951 were submitted to the In
ternational Committee. The committee s answer laid down the general
lines to be followed in the plan. After some further discussions at
Maudheim in the course of the winter, the final program was drawn
up. The details will emerge from the individual accounts by the
leaders of the sledging parties but, even so, it is necessary to insert
a short survey at this point.

206

Where Summer Starts in November

The weasels, together with a dog team, were placed at Robin s
disposal for measurements of depth of the inland ice. Swithinbank
and Melleby were to be his assistants. But, before Robin could have
full control of the vehicles, he first had to transport new supplies for
the field parties to a distance of about 125 miles from Maudheim.
These supplies with equipment and everything else amounted in
the end to about three tons; and they also included new depots to be
left on the outward journey.

Late that winter we had learned that the Swedish Air Force was
going to send with Norsel a party to carry out aerial survey in the
interior and along the ice front. The leader would be Captain R.
von Essen, who had been with Norsel as an observer the summer be
fore. The cameraman was our own veteran airman Helge Skappel.

The topographical and geological party this year was made up of
Fred Roots, leader, Nils Roer and Stig Hallgren. Stig would, of
course, make film shots on the way, and act as assistant for Roer s sur
vey work.

The glaciological party consisted of two men Valter Schytt,
leader, and Alan Reece. Alan was to make the most of all chances to
do geological work during the journey.

When Valter on the completion of his work arrived at the Advanced
Base, Alan was to join Fred s party there. These two would then make
a series of short journeys together.

To help Valter on his return journey from the Advanced Base, Ove
Wilson was to go so far with the weasels on Robin s last trip. While
Ove was waiting at the main depot for Valter, as might easily happen,
he was also to go alone, with one dog and a small sledge, on short
journeys to the nearest rocky slopes to look for more of his microscopic
animals.

Finally I should mention that Fred kept Robin company on the de
pot expedition, but it was intended that he should join Roer and Stig
when the weasels met them on the return journey.

Naturally there were numerous other details to be arranged; as,
for instance, code and times for radio contact with Maudheim, the
noting of possible airfields in case planes should fly low over the
partiesand so on.

207

The White Desert

We stay-at-homes in Maudheim had to be very optimistic too.
There were only five of us left behind this time; and if we were to
succeed in carrying out the meteorological program, we should need
to have reasonably good weather the whole time. Our party at the
base now comprised Nils-J0rgen Schumacher and Gosta Liljequist,
Egil Rogstad, Bjarne Lorentzen, and myself. Valter and Ove we ex
pected back early in December. The otter parties had orders to be
at the base again by January 15 at latest, and preferably a week
earlier. I suggested to Roer, moreover, that he and Stig should return
before the end of December, if possible, to help in the aerial survey
work-in case Norsel arrived unexpectedly soon.

From the very beginning of September Maudheim was dominated
by the prospect of this exodus. This time the whole affair was simpler
than the year before. Each man knew now from his own experience
exactly what he must take and how to arrange all the equipment.
The work went smoothly, and by September 21, Valter s party was
ready to start out. The arrangement was that Fred should accompany
the two sledges for the first part of the journey south, to help with
the task of finding a safer route across the "eastern ice shelf." We were
not keen on risking the weasels in the dangerous crevasse area. Fred
was to join Robin when the weasels fetched the sledges.

But now we had storm after storm. Not until September 27 did the
first sledging party set offmen and dogs alike with eager zest.

Then the weasels drove off on September 30; Roer and Stig left
the base the day after, each with his own team, and the weasels were
back on October 8 at midnight. The field work was now on a sure
footing and all the geological collections from the summer before
had been brought home to the base.

At Maudheim we were back to a state of quiet and boring monotony
particularly when Rogstad went on his motorcycle to the glaciol-
ogists* measurement stakes. One must admit that it is rather a trial
to be permanently based at a station like his, down under the snow for
two whole years. One realizes, to be sure, that colleagues who have
gone out on the field work are passing through long months of arduous
exertion and primitive living conditions but somehow or other one
is filled with an aching envy of their lot. And it is very easy to draw

208

Where Summer Starts in November

a distinction here between the members of the two categories the
sledging men who often have a hard time in many respects and who
think of us people at the base as lounging about at our ease, and then
the stay-at-homes who must contend with a deadly monotony, think
ing of those who are out on an "Easter trip." Both sides are perhaps a
little too full of their own importance, and the feeling may find an
outlet occasionally. Yet I really believe that we of N.B.S.A.E. did on
the whole understand one another s little difficulties at least by de
greesso that our relations rested on mutual comprehension and good
fellowship. Two years on ice, all the same, is a very long time indeed.
The first Skua of the year is over the base on the last day of October.
But otherwise routine. Nothing but routine week after week. Round-
the-clock observations. The day s balloon. The range of permuta
tions in the meals from day to day. Each evening s radio call to the
field parties and Peter s answer. Weeks of monotony.

But in Maudheim itself things were quite pleasant. We had space.
Our cook, Bjarne, was able to spread himself over one whole house.
The rest of us breathed more freely too. And we had our gay and
exhilarating little episodes as well. At a pinch, we could create them
for ourselves. There was that beer, for instance.

All the men had long ago sent home their orders for what Norsel
was to bring down for them. Every one of them had ordered beer.

Another very pleasing and reassuring bit of news was that Captain
Guttorm had been persuaded to come south for the third time to
fetch us home. So now we knew we would be fetched, provided the
task was humanly possible.

The summer began in November. It looked as though the storms
had raged themselves out and for very weariness must pause to take
breath. At first we could hardly believe it, but day after day we only
had breezes, light to fresh, and the temperature gradually rose from
0F. to from 25 to 29F. It was still frost, to be sure, but to us it felt
quite mild. We had the midnight sun also. A stiff easterly gale in the
middle of the month lasted only a day and a night.

One morning one of Peter s dogs arrived back at the base dragging
along an aluminum pole on & long chain. In less than two days she had
covered nearly 125 miles. She rushed around wildly both in and out

209

The White Desert

of doors, and at last in the dark tumbled down into Valter s thirty-
three feet deep ice shaft. She had better stay there, at least for the
present, said I. But Bjarne clambered down on a rope, put the bitch
in his sleeping bag and hauled her up. Then we tethered her to the
meat pile and left her to bark away her contrition and loneliness.

No other sensation compares with that of waiting when the final
phase has begun. News came of NorseFs departure from Goteborg.
The whale catchers thronged southward and dispersed to their own
special areas. Another source of excitement was following the progress
of Robin s southward journey. The party made their way without
mishap in through the mountains and out to the vast ice sheet on the
southern side. There they laid a depot of dog meat for Fred s party.
And one evening Robbie announced that now they were beginning to
drive a weasel up to the plateau itself.

On November 19, Norsel crossed the equator once more; I had Cap
tain Guttorm on the radio-telephone that evening. And on the 27th
Valter and Ove came back.

With intense excitement, we followed NorseFs route on the chart,
but we had no direct communication with her. The radio conditions
in general were so impossible during that last summer that the ever
helpful Thorsh0vdi had to relay ah 1 our messages to Bergen Radio.
On December 12, however, Captain Guttorm came through direct.
He was hove to in the position 58 south, 8 west, and was meeting
with ice. Two days later we got him on the radio-telephone, when he
was able to report floes extending for miles, with leads between them,
at about 61 30 south and 0, and he feared that Norsel would have
to smash through the, ice all the way south to Maudheim. It would be
no mean task, this smashing through 900 nautical miles.

Guttorm was quite right, of course. Norsel rammed her way along
from latitude to latitude in the tight pack ice, advancing about one
degree in twenty-four hours. On December 17, when he crossed the
Antarctic Circle, Guttorm invited us to celebrate Christmas aboard.
We had no faith in that possibility.

Nevertheless, in the atmosphere of Maudheim there was now a
touch of fever, as one might say. Was it conceivable that Guttorm
would set up an all-time record and penetrate to the coast so soon?

210

Where Summer Starts in November

Off Maudheim the sea lay blue and ice-free as far northward as we
could see it, so the shore lead was certainly very wide. Some men
began to pack, and the action was infectious; day and night we dis
cussed the possibilities. Late at night on December 20, Guttorm re
ported heavy ice at about 67 15 south, 10 west. Then we washed all
the floorsl And, on the evening after, a burst of hallelujahs cleft the
ether away in the south. The ship had come through the ice belt
and was in the shore lead. Arrival at Maudheim was late in the morn
ing of December 22!

Guttorm promised he would call us at five o clock the next morn
ing, so that this year we could come down and welcome Norsel. We
slept precious little that night, and sure enough, at 5 a.m. Guttorm
was .there but he had already anchored at the ice front!

Norsel was in port! We pulled on our clothes and drove down with
Valter s team at a pace that sent the snow dust flying up over the
sledge. Behind us Maudheim flaunted the flags of the three nations,
each one on its special staff. It was the first and last time flags were
hoisted at the base. And out there the ship was moored. Familiar
brown faces grinned at us from all the decks, while shouts of friendly
welcome rang out. We climbed aboard, rather in a state of confusion.
Heavens, what a swarm of people and a host of hands to be gripped!
Some faces were unfamiliar the British naval Lieutenants D. K.
Blair and R. G. Higgins. I had not expected to meet Higgins, for he
Lad been injured during a storm in the Channel and had to be put
ashore. But he flew after Norsel to Cape Town! There was also a tall
thin fellow who said he was a journalist named Hydle from the
Aftenposten of Oslo. The last time I had met him was in northeast
Greenland in 1931.

There was Guttorm, bearded as in 1950, and Snarby in white, and
smooth shaven as ever. The engineer Max jabbered away, with the
baffling Flensburg roll of his r s. Von Essen greeted us gaily and full
of excitement, asking if the bay ice would hold for long! He was
given Roer s maps and panoramas; but the same evening Roer himself
was back, together with Hallgren so now he was able to give much
better directions to von Essen and Helge Skappel.

And what a meeting it was! Yet all the while, with feet firmly

211

The White Desert

planted on Norsel s deck, we were trying to take in the fact that we
were really there. Fact it certainly was, for here came Guttorm with
bottles of beer, and we drank a toast of welcome in glasses of Pilsener.
Next came the distribution of mail; but how could anyone have peace
for reading his letters?

Many things remained to be done, of course, before the expedition
came to an end. And much might happen still. In spite of it all, how
ever, our wheel had come full circle within the span of February 10,
1950, and December 22, 1951.

Von Essen and his men set to work on the two planes, and the very
next evening he flew the Beechcraft from the sea ice up to last year s
airfield. With their own little weasel the Swedes kept at it night and
day, driving their gear to the place; and on Christmas Day they
made the first trial flight to the south. Beforehand, however, we had
all kept Christmas Eve on board in festive and thoroughly orthodox
style.

Fresh excitement now would the weather keep fine? Would the
flights be successful? Would the rest of the field party come back
without misadventure and in time? And what would the ice conditions
be for our voyage north?

We Maudheimers, at least, looked upon what was left of the ex
pedition as a period of entertaining summer sport interspersed with
frantic packing. For the wintering party the last act was over. The
field parties came home by degrees.

With the coming of summer again, the glaciological party had set
off on its final trip into the glacial region to record the movement of
ice and the accretion of snow as indicated by markers planted on
previous trips. Valter Schytt relates this journey to the inland ice
fields and mountains.

In September our sledging party, consisting of Fred, Alan and my
self, was to start a few days before the weasels, so that if possible we
might discover a better route for driving past the dangerous crevassed
area at the passage to the "eastern ice shelf." Finally we set out on the
27th.

212

Where Summer Starts in November

We found an entirely safe route to the "eastern ice shelf," and on
October 2 Fred left us, for the task of piloting the weasels past the
crevassed area below the depot at flag number eighty-two.

We were lucky in the weather, with cloudless sky and unlimited
visibility almost every day, though tiresome wind eddies persisted.
The coldest day was probably October 10> when we drove sixteen
miles in minus 13 F. and a wind that all day kept up a speed of
around twenty-four miles per hour. But the sun shone and our ano
raks absorbed a good deal of warmth.

On October 14 we met the Roots-Roer-Hallgren group, and Stig
stayed with Alan and me for a day or two, to get used to Alan s team
which he was to drive the following month. On the fifteenth we
reached the Advanced Base with all our impediments. After a day
spent on a southward trek to Borgen to lay a depot and return to the
Advanced Base, we had four days lying up in stormy weather, when
the time left over from getting meals, sleeping or writing notes was
spent in reading. Alan and I set out on October 23 with my team, and
the next day we reached the old camping place by the field of blue ice
at the foot of Borgen. Here nothing had altered in the course of the
winter.

When we were here for the first time, in February, we had measured
a base line for our triangulations and along that line had stuck
matches in the snow, each one fifty-five yards from the next, thirteen
matches in all. That was on February 6. On March 17 we were back
there and still found eleven of them. I was amazed at this, for the snow
surface normally changes considerably in a period of six weeks,
whether through melting, evaporation, wind erosion or accumula
tion. But now, on October 26, all earlier records in the area were cer
tainly broken, for we recovered five of the matches after they had
been almost nine months in the snow. Here, then, the inland ice had
neither income nor expenditure, and our calculations were a simple
affair.

On October 31, we were on the way up to the R0dberg pass. I had
expected easy driving on a hard, wind-polished surface, but instead
we found deep, loose snow, which made it impossible for us to con
tinue with a full load.

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The White Desert

On the same afternoon we left the team in the pass and went up on
the R0dberg, a temptation we could no longer resist. First we had
easy, straightforward walking up the even slope of red sandstone^
then it was more a question of "hands and knees" up through diabase
(greenstone) and gray sandstone, but we were not involved in any
climbing of an advanced type.

The R0dberg summit was snow-free, and a good deal of the plateau
was covered with beautiful, regular stone polygons between six and
eight feet in diameter. Such "polygon fields" usually occur where the
temperature rises above freezing point several times in the course of
the year. But whether the heat of the sun in present climatic condi
tions is so strong that it can warm the earth here at an altitude of 6,000
feet to a point above freezing, or whether this is a "fossil" poly
gon field which testifies to earlier warm periods, is something I will
leave unstated for the present

From a camping place on the R0dberg pass we worked for a couple
of days on glaciology and geology in the neighborhood; and on the
evening of November 2 we drove down to the ice stream in the R0d-
berg valley which Wilson and I had studied in February. There a
good deal of snow had fallen during the winter. Of our five aluminum
rods one was entirely snowed up, and of another one we only saw
three-quarters of an inch. This implied a snow accumulation of about
five feet, exceptionally great for Antarctic areas.

On November 6 and 7 we were in the great "cauldron" northeast
of the R0dberg pass, but work was impeded by a persistent south
wind which seldom fell below twenty miles per hour, but often rose
to forty miles per hour. The wind was violently boisterous, piled up
snow in drifts, and hollowed out a sixteen-inch-deep groove under
the hinder part of the sledges. This was one of the rare occasions
when the snow kept on blowing right around the tents, even though
the sun shone and the sky was cloudless. Down on the ground we
were enveloped in a cloud of drift snow.

On November 10 we saw the three first snow petrels in these re
gions. We stayed here till the eleventh, then on the twelfth and thir
teenth went across and finished the work on and around the Borgen

214

The White Desert

blue ice field; on the fourteenth we were weather-bound in a stiff gale
near Borgen s western outcrops.

But the bad weather ceased, and on the fifteenth we both managed
to investigate a few ice areas on Borgen s northwestern side, then
drove down to the Advanced Base.

On November 17 we were able to take a new theodolite measure
ment of the eight aluminum stakes from Pyramiden to Staven. The
rod which stood three and a half miles from Pyramiden that is to
say about halfway had moved fourteen yards since January 15,
while the one that was a quarter of a mile from it had moved no more
than two yards.

We had now finished our work here, so Ove and I were to return
to Maudheim, where both of us still had much to do.

The whole trip had taken two months, and during that time we had
covered a distance of 680 miles in all.

215

XXIII

THE SEISMIC JOURNEY, 1951-52
By GORDON DE Q. ROBIN

As REGARDS the ice sheet itself, the surface extent has become rea
sonably well known as the result of many expeditions, but we were
curious to find out more about its thickness and the nature of the
country beneath the ice. The Americans around the Bay of Whales
had made some measurements of ice thickness on the other side of
the continent from Maudheim in 1934. As a result of their work and
of studies of ice thicknesses in the northern hemisphere, various esti
mates placed the ice thicknesses likely to be encountered elsewhere
in the Antarctic at anywhere from some hundreds to a few thousand
feet. While a few hundred feet would cover ordinary hills, a few
thousand feet could conceal quite large mountain ranges. Thus, al
though the methods we intended to use to measure ice thickness
were rather technical, we were trying to carry out field exploration
in the true sense of the word.

The method we were to use for these measurements is known as
seismic shooting. It was primarily developed in the search for oil de
posits on a large commercial scale, but has been borrowed from time
to time by people seeking to measure glacier depths.

The technique has grown out of two sciences. The first is the study
of earthquake waves by sensitive seismographs which record very
small movements of the earth s surface thousands of miles from the
actual disturbance. The second principle used is that of echo sound
ing.

These methods are applied in the determination of ice thickness by
generating a small-scale "earthquake" and measuring the time the
vibrations produced take to travel through the ice to the underlying

216

mm

Helge Skappel

Lowering the flags on January 15, 1952

Plate 16
Homeward bound through the pack ice

i%?^#^^^

The Seismic Journey, 1951-1952

rock and back to the surface. The local "earthquake" is generated
by the use o electrically fired explosives, ranging in quantity from a
few grains to many pounds. TNT is used, as there is less risk of acci
dents with it in the extreme cold than with other explosives. Vibra
tions are picked up and amplified by a type of electrical seismograph
called a seismometer, then they are recorded on photographic paper
after being considerably amplified.

This sounds rather straightforward, but in practice several types of
vibrations are produced by an explosion, and not all rocks act as
good reflectors. It is often difficult to decide whether a recorded vi
bration is an echo from the rock below or due to one of many other
causes. Therefore instead of recording the vibrations at only one
point, they are recorded at a number of points simultaneously on the
same photographic paper, by use of seismometers and electric cables,
In our case, six seismometers were used, but in searching for oil as
many as twenty-four may be employed.

With two weasels plus one dog team we were able to take a load
of six tons when we departed from Maudheim. A caravan built on a
large sledge, and known as the "caboose," was also towed by the
weasels. Melleby and I had built this at Maudheim in the early
spring. In it we should eat, sleep and carry out much of our scientific
work during our three months journey.

Peter Melleby, Charles Swithinbank, Ove Wilson and I had packed
up, lashed the sledges and were ready to set out from the base on
October 18, 1951, on the main seismic journey.

Our intention was to follow the much traveled route to our Ad
vanced Base for the first section of the journey, so we were on well-
known ground. To begin with, we intended to stop every six miles to
make seismic soundings on the ice shelf. This gave us the depth to
the sea bottom rather than the thickness of the floating ice.

The weather, which had been bright and clear when we left Maud
heim at 0830, was not kind to us. By the time we reached our first
seismic station, the wind had risen to a fresh breeze. At our second
station the wind was starting to pick up the snow and set it drifting
along the surface.

In spite of the drifting snow, I managed to set a machine in place to

217

The White Desert

record the movement of some tidal cracks after we stopped, but our
main concern was to get our new camping system working smoothly.
Instead of the troubles of erecting a tent, we merely had five pegs to
bang in around our caboose to anchor it down.

The construction of the caboose was thoroughly tested during the
next four days, as a gale raged throughout that period. The four of
us were confined in our little home, thirteen feet long, four feet six
inches wide and not higli enough to allow the taller ones to stand up
right

On the twenty-first the wind reached an estimated seventy-five
miles per hour. Swithinbank went out in the blizzard for a few min
utes, but could not walk in the wind, so returned on hands and knees.
Inside the caboose life was not very exciting. We spent time in sleep
ing, sewing, reading, writing and making small gadgets for use in the
caboose kitchen.

The thirty-mile-per-hour wind on October 22 was not too much
for seismic work, so we fired a series of shots to measure the depth to
the sea bottom. Although not certain whether we had a lull in the
storm or a definite improvement in the weather, we then started to
dig out the weasels, by now heavily drifted up with snow.

Due to trouble in getting the weasel engines started, it was not until
the evening of October 24, that we moved along two and a half miles
to the base of the ice hill to be ready to start our seismic work first
thing next morning. So far we had been in the field seven days, cov
ered only twenty-five miles, and had spent more time in trying to get
our weasels to work than we had spent on seismic investigations.

We had breakfasted and started work by 0700 next morning in
calm weather with bright sunshine. Melleby and I started the seismic
work, whilst Swithinbank and Wilson accurately measured the sur
face levels back to our last camp by theodolite. The echo-sounding
system of the seismic equipment, like the human ear, cannot detect
echoes from objects which are too close. How close we would detect
echoes was not quite certain, so we were pleased when, after de
veloping the seismic photographic record, I pulled my head out of the
suitcase darkroom and announced that the ice was about eight hun
dred feet thick.

218

The Seismic Journey, 1951-1952

On plotting these measurements on a chart of surface elevations, we
found that the rock beneath this hill was almost flat, as may be seen
from the profile on page 226. This meant that the hill itself con
sisted almost entirely of ice, and was apparently formed by continual
accumulation of snow on a flat surface, its rounded shape being due
to the gradual outflow of ice from the center.

We left this hill on October 26 in overcast weather; under these
conditions one can see practically nothing but a uniform white in all
directions, and the telltale shadows which show the presence of a
bridged crevasse are not visible. Before joining the route onto the
ice shelf that we had marked three weeks previously, I made a seismic
sounding a mile out on the ice shelf opposite our camp. At the same
time Swithinbank and Melleby made measurements of the surface
level by theodolite, as I hoped such accurate leveling would help to
show at just what point the ice starts to float.

We camped that night some seven miles out on the ice shelf on a
gradually improving surface.

Although we rose at our normal time next day, Melleby s weasel
proved rather obstinate. It was 1530 before we had completely rec
tified the machine, so we had to work quickly to do two seismic sta
tions and cover twenty-one miles before camping.

The weather deteriorated on October 29, and after doing some seis
mic shots in the morning in a rising wind, we noted the signs of an
approaching storm. The wind was too strong and the visibility too
poor for the theodolite work which I wanted in this locality, so we
retired to the caboose. The storm did not last long, and the weather
on October SO turned out to be ideal. That morning we split into two
parties, one for theodolite leveling, the other for seismic work, but
joined forces again in the afternoon. We then started to climb an ice
hill which for us was the beginning of the continuous inland ice as op
posed to the floating ice shelf. In the middle of the day the sun was so
bright that, although the air temperature was 14 F., we were swelter
ing in our shirt sleeves. We moved up the hill during the evening,
shooting an additional seismic station en route. As the sun sank below
the horizon around 2200 that night, a purple twilight glow spread
along the horizon, and wisps of snow drifting over tie surface grad-

219

The White Desert

ually increased as we climbed. With the thermometer at F., a fresh
breeze and a clear sky, it felt rather chilly when we finally stopped
at our 150 kilometer (93 miles) depot at 2300.

Although the sky above was clear next morning, a strong wind
lifted the drifting snow from two to three feet above the surface,
limiting horizontal visibility to a couple of hundred yards. However,
the route was well marked with stakes every mile, and as we knew it
was safe we started off, feeling that the time spent placing these
stakes during the previous trip was now being repaid. When we de
veloped the records of the first two stations during the afternoon, we
found that the rock beneath the ice was, like the surface, dropping in
level gradually.

Our next two days were spent in reasonable weather, carrying on
with our seismic stations and travel. Around noon on the second day
we reached the emergency flying depot we had laid down nearly four
weeks previously 130 miles from Maudheim. Here we left one weasel
and most of our stores, as we intended to make a short detour from
our inland route to visit Forstef jell, a rocky ridge emerging from the
ice seven miles from the depot. At 2000 we reached a camp site on the
crest of a snow ridge a few hundred yards from the rock of Forstef -
jell. While Swithinbank and Wilson inspected the peak, Melleby and
I cooked the supper and contacted Maudheim on the radio. The
others came back with reports of lichens and ice polishing of the
rocks, which observations they further investigated the next morning.
We spent one whole day investigating in some detail the subsurface
junction between the ice and rock, before returning to the emergency
flying depot.

For the next three days we made steady progress along our well-
known route to the Advanced Base. On November 6 we came over
the imperceptible top of the snow ridge, from which the lines of in
land mountains are suddenly revealed. As we dropped gradually into
the thirty-mile-wide ice filled valley, the laboriously gained seismic
echoes showed that the rock beneath was doing likewise to a much
greater extent. At the center of this valley the ice had reached 6,500
feet in depth. Thus were it possible to remove the ice, some 2,000 feet

220

The Seismic Journey, 1 951-195:2

of sea water would flood over the rock floor to form a magnificent
fjord!

At the Advanced Base we found notes telling us about the progress
of the other field parties. It appeared we would just have time, if we
hurried, to carry a load of dog food for the survey geological party
to an agreed nunatak fifty miles to the south by November 12. Wilson
left our party at this stage to wait for Schytt, who was working in the
mountains to the south.

As we were now to break fresh ground for weasel transport, we re
arranged our loads so that items such as gasoline, food and dog food
were distributed between the weasel sledges, to ensure that loss of
one would not finish any essential item. This task completed, we set
off under a hot sun on November 9, hoping to deposit the stores for
the survey geological party within three days. After a few miles,
Melleby s weasel was overheating so much that to continue would
have invited a serious breakdown. It took three hours to remedy a
blockage in the cooling system; then we pushed on once more. Rough
sastrugi slowed both dogs and weasels, but we camped some fifteen
miles south of the Advanced Base.

We were somewhat delayed with ignition trouble next morning,
but by noon we were starting to climb a wide glacier into the moun
tains. The mountains themselves, which rise to some 8,500 feet above
sea level, are half buried under the snow, as was shown by an ice
thickness of 3,500 feet measured less than six miles away. As we
climbed, the sky gradually became overcast and resulted in a diffuse
light which made it impossible to see the surface. This and a rising
wind made us camp at 1600, as we were approaching the crevassed
locality. We still had twenty-five miles to go in the next day and a half
to depot the other party s food, so we sincerely hoped the bad weath
er would not last

Although there were still some snow showers around on the morn
ing of November 11, the light had considerably improved. After a pre
liminary investigation of the route past the crevasses, we continued to
toil up the glacier to its highest point at R0dberg pass.

The country was new to all of us after the top of the pass, so I now

221

The White Desert

drove the dogs ahead of the weasels. This meant slower progress, but
it was necessary as a safety precaution. We camped in clear weather
in a position which could easily be seen from the proposed depot site.
We laid the depot about noon next day.

From the depot we carefully examined the country ahead through
our binoculars. About thirty miles to the southeast lay the almost
plateau-like snow-covered top above the Neumayerveggen ridges. To
the south, on a continuation of these ridges, were many large-cre-
vassed escarpments, but it looked practicable to take a weasel along
an almost direct line to the southern side of Neumayerveggen. After
taking the compass bearing along this line, we set off.

Six miles out from the nunatak we camped, intending at this point
to measure the velocity of the seismic waves in ice. It is necessary to
know this velocity in order to convert the measured time for a seismic
echo to return to the surface into an actual ice depth. Such a velocity
measurement usually took us most of one day to carry out.

Unfortunately we obtained no seismic echoes at this station, and it
was two days later and some eighteen miles farther on before our
efforts met with any success. Here an echo was recorded at 1.1 seconds
after the explosion, which would mean that the ice was just over 6,000
feet thick. This seemed almost too thick to believe at this point, but
the echo was quite clearly present, as additional seismic shots proved.

Just after starting on November 16, when about seven miles west
of Neumayerveggen, the fan belt on Melleby s weasel broke. We had
intended to abandon this weasel that evening, so rather than spend
a couple of hours repairing it, we left it on the spot. Before proceeding
we stripped it of those spare parts we considered desirable.

Next morning we continued our climb up the steps of the escarp
ment, making a minor course alteration to avoid a possible crevasse.
At our noon seismic halt, however, we had in view a long escarpment
curving around from Neumayerveggen to a rock ridge some twenty-
five miles to the southwest. Except for a gap perhaps a mile wide,
this escarpment was crevassed along almost its whole length. We
were lucky in being near the apparently safe route. We turned and
made for this gap, and after half a mile Melleby spotted some sledge
tracks crossing our route and making for Neumayerveggen. These

222

The Seismic Journey, 1951-1952

were, of course, made by the survey geological party, and did not
appear to be more than a week old. As John Giaever had seemed
worried over the absence of news from this party, we were glad to
report this by radio that evening.

On November 20 in good visibility we had progressed so far onto
the inland plateau that we had lost sight of all mountains to the north.
As soon as this was apparent, we retraced our steps about half a mile
to place our "Landf alT depot of food and fuel in a position fixed from
the mountains by theodolite and compass. After this point we placed
marker stakes painted red every two miles or less, in order to find our
way back. From this point also we did our best to follow a true course
of 145, as we were now entering country so monotonously uniform
that there was little reason to choose any direction as giving easier or
safer travel than any other. We did actually see one nunatak again
at times during the next day, and therefore gave this one the name
Sistefjell (Last Peak) as being complementary to Forstefjell (First
Peak) close to Maudheim.

By covering eighteen miles a day we were sixty miles beyond Sistef
jell and a hundred miles from Neumayerveggen by the evening of
November 24. The weasel had proved itself a good means of trans
port on this high plateau, now some 8,800 feet above sea level. The
glaciological observations had yielded much valuable data, but the
seismic results were not satisfactory. It was a question of principle to
decide whether to press on to the limit of our time and fuel roughly
another sixty miles or whether to stop and throw all our efforts into
somehow producing some seismic results. We decided on the latter
course.

November 25 we spent measuring the velocities of seismic waves in
ice, then on the twenty-sixth we started seeking echoes in earnest.
Of different methods, the placing of the explosives at greater depths
in the ice gave the greatest promise of results, though it appeared
necessary to make considerably deeper holes than we had been using.

Our common depth of shooting was two or three yards below the
surface. On a trial shot at twenty-two feet depth, the continued col
lapse of surface layers of snow after the explosion was much less evi
dent than on the shallower shots. As this collapse was obliterating any

223

The White Desert

echoes present, its removal was the obvious way to increase the
chance of obtaining results; therefore we must shoot still deeper.
However, there is a limit to the depth one can reach in a reasonable
time. Digging, two people can get down to eight feet in less than two
hours, but thereafter progress becomes rapidly slower. Our boring
equipment was designed to go to ten feet, using not particularly
strong aluminum rods, but we did have additional boring rods which
would enable us theoretically to reach forty feet if the rods did not
break or the ice bore jam in its hole. If this happened once we would
lose the ice bore, and with it the chance of continuing to shoot at suffi
cient depths below the surface. After spending the best part of a day
in a fruitless attempt to make an electrical heat borer, our remaining
hope seemed to be in the use of the mechanical hand-boring gear,
with the chance of losing it completely.

As Swithinbank, our glaciologist, was the most experienced of us
in ice boring, he organized this side of the work. It was necessary to
find some method of stopping the rotating boring rods from knocking
loose snow down the hole on top of the thicker boring piece at the
bottom. After some trials we found it fully satisfactory to use a larger
steel boring tube some eight feet long as a casing for the top of the
hole. This guided the boring rods sufficiently well.

Another method we used to overcome this continued collapse of
snow layers after an explosion was to try to cause such collapse before
the shot was fired, by running the weasel a number of times around
the seismometer positions before they were laid down, in the hope
that any likely collapsing in the locality would be precipitated.

The development of these techniques took some days, but the re
sults started to improve once we began shooting at forty feet below
the surface. The improvement was not sudden, but possible echoes
started to appear on the records. Unfortunately it was not practical
to bore forty feet, but by again varying the spacing between the ex
plosion and the seismometers we were able, after spending six days
at this isolated location and after firing some forty-six separate shots,
to show that the ice depth at that point was 6,375 feet, a really con
siderable amount of ice. No one in the past has ever wintered on the
high Antarctic plateau, so ideas on winter temperatures here are

224

The Seismic Journey, 1951-1952

somewhat vague. At Maudheim, however, we had shown that the
ice temperature somewhat below the surface was very close to the
mean annual air temperature, and by applying this principle and
measuring the ice temperature, in our deep holes, we were able to
determine the mean annual air temperature at a number of points on
die inland ice plateau. At our farthest point this gave a value of about
40 F., which makes it apparent that temperatures below 58 F.
must be common during the winter months.

In order to leave time for a reasonable number of seismic sound
ings during our return journey, and also to have fuel available for
flattening the snow surface at seismic stations, I decided to start the
return journey on December 1.

It took us two and three-quarter hours to cover eighteen miles in
the weasel and Melleby following with the dogs took four and three-
quarter hours, which was quite a good speed. We stopped for over
twenty-four hours, working with our seismic equipment, before pro
ceeding for another fourteen miles. At this time one of our dogs,
Melaktosa, died. This left us with eight lively dogs in the team. With
some 347 miles to go to reach Maudheim, we were quite confident of
returning on time even should the weasel fail. The six days rest on the
plateau, good food and light loads on their sledge had kept our dogs
in really good condition.

On December 3 we moved six miles in the evening in order to
attempt measurements in a new locality, then camped on a cold night,
our minimum thermometer registering 36 F. We stayed at this
camp nearly two days, during which time, by means of two deep bore
holes, we obtained results which gave an ice thickness of 7,800 feet,
putting the rock beneath at about 600 feet above sea level. On the
afternoon of the fifth we moved on another twenty miles.

December 6 we spent stopped, working at seismic shooting, and by
evening we had obtained some particularly satisfactory records which
showed the ice there was 7,500 feet thick. A whole day thus spent in
obtaining a single thickness measurement contrasted with our earlier
work where we sometimes obtained four measurements in one day, as
well as traveling some eighteen miles.

During the next four days we worked three seismic stations and

225

FEET

10,000
8,000
6,000

4,000

2.000 ,
P

Vertical scale exaggerated 20 times
M$ ICE FglwATER

-MAUDHEIM

25 50

MILES

75

100 125 150 175

Profile showing ice thickness determined by seismic

covered some thirty-seven miles. The results were not as good as that
of the sixth, but nevertheless were sufficient to show the rock floor
rising under the ice towards the ridge of Neumayerveggen. This
ridge appears to act as a dam to the ice to the southeast, thus forming
the high inland ice plateau. The presence of exposed rock, and the
crevassed nature of the escarpment up which we had toiled to reach
the plateau, indicated that the rock of this ridge could not be too far
below the surface. It was satisfactory to know our seismic results con
firmed this.

On the afternoon of the tenth, we descended about 1,300 feet in
elevation during a fifteen-mile run. A temperature of 2 F. at 2030
when we were making camp was the warmest we had had at that time
of day for a considerable period. Already we were leaving the chill
of the Antarctic plateau behind us. Bad weather the next morning
gave the party a little much needed rest, but we were able to resume
work in the afternoon. This station was completed the following
morning; then we continued back along our outward track to the
weasel which we had abandoned on November 18. We stripped it of
everything of use which we could carry.

226

NEUMAYER VEGGEN

ADVANCED BASE

200

225. 250 275 300

soundings from Maudheim to about 400 miles inland

325- "350 -375
MILES

As our boring tubes were gradually becoming unserviceable, and
as we were getting back toward the areas where we had obtained
seismic echoes from explosions only ten feet below the surface, we
now rduced the depth to which we bored for our explosion to twenty-
four feet. This considerably speeded up our work, so that on Decem
ber 13 and 14, while crossing the broad, flat, ice-filled valley of
Pencksokka, we were able to make measurements at two stations
each day. These showed that a deep fjord type of valley exists be
neath the ice, the rock floor being below sea level, although we were
far from any floating ice shelf.

Although I should have liked to do more seismic work in Penck, I
felt we should hurry to reach our next depot on the night of Decem
ber 14, so as to reach the Advanced Base by about December 20, when
the geological and survey party might be waiting for us.

A seismic station only two and a half miles from the exposed rock of
the nunatak which we used to locate our depot revealed an ice thick
ness of 7,200 feet. This was indeed a rugged profile, with all but the
mountain tops covered in snow. After this station, we continued in
bad light up the glaciers leading into the main mountain masses. We

227

The White Desert

stopped in the center of a large glacier leading out of the mountains,
and measured 5,200 feet of ice.

In good weather on December 15 we climbed R0dbergsdalen,
the highest point in the mountains on our route. We had not had an
echo here on our outward journey, but very much wanted to get one.
The weather deteriorated, so at 1800 we decided to camp for the night,
and finish repairs to the boring gear in the caboose. Bad weather
stopped the following evening, when we were able to get a clear result
showing the ice was 2,450 feet thick.

We had hoped to return by a more westerly route through the
mountains than on the outward journey, and had regarded our visit to
R0dbergsdalen as a detour. Next morning, the eighteenth, in bad
light, we just managed to follow our two-day-old tracks back down
hill, and after some four miles stopped to work an important seismic
station at the junction of two glaciers. After measuring an ice tibick-
ness of approximately 3,250 feet, we had lunch and reviewed the sit
uation.

The clouds and snow showers made the light too bad to take the
weasel over country about which we were not certain, as we could
not have seen crevasses. Therefore I decided to return by our out
ward route, thus missing some interesting measurements in the moun
tain area, but getting one good, instead of two incomplete, ice-thick
ness profiles.

We emerged from the mountain glacier next day without trouble,
and on the following reached the Advanced Base with six more ice-
thickness measurements as the result of two days work. My diary
records our arrival at the Advanced Base thus:

"Rounding the snow ridge we spotted two tents standing at tie
A.B., so as agreed I moved quickly into the caboose before we were
seen. I did not emerge until Charles called to me that we had arrived
at the Advanced Base, Roots and Reece having by then come out to
greet Swithinbank. They seemed quite impressed and believed that
it was quite normal for me to sleep in the caboose while we traveled,
much to our secret amusement.

"We made camp and were ready for Melleby, who arrived about

228

The Seismic Journey, 1951-1952

half an hour later. We sent a message over the radio to Norsel, who
passed it on to Maudheim, reporting that Roots and Reece were here
and Roer and Hallgren were returning/

The twenty-second we spent in making four soundings near the
Advanced Base. The next morning we deposited all the surplus stores
at the Base, such as food, radio equipment, reindeer skins, etc., on a
flat rock shelf on the northern corner of Pyramiden, some six feet
above the snow line. Reece listed these, then they were weighted
down with stones placed on the boxes. As a depot these should last
a number of years.

Having completed this work by 1400, Roots gave us a picnic lunch
sitting outside in the warm sun. Four of us then climbed to the top
of Pyramiden, took photographs and left a message in a bottle at the
base of a cairn for the information of any future visitors. At 1730 on
December 23 we started our return along the much traveled route
from the Advanced Base to Maudheim. For the third time, we tried to
obtain an echo at a spot about two miles north of the Advanced Base.
This time we produced a result, so with the previous days work we
now had two lines of echoes showing the rock bed rising, as one would
expect, towards the exposed nunatak of Pyramiden. We had thus rec
tified another gap in the results of our outward journey.

Christmas Day was a working day, much the same as any other,
though we did have special food at a festive meal. Perhaps our prin
cipal memory of that day is of the choir and soloist on board the Nor-
sely who sang us some Christmas carols over the radio.

Now that the Norsel had arrived at Maudheim and the program
of aerial photography was about to commence, our nightly radio traf
fic with Maudheim started to increase. We had already informed the
base of the location and contents of various emergency depots we had
established along our route in case the aircraft were forced down.
Now came various other requests such as to build a very large snow
cross at the aircraft emergency fuel dump which we had established
in October, 130 miles from Maudheim. This we did on December 28.

After some delay on December twenty-ninth, through bad weather,
Roots and Reece caught up with us on the thirtieth about 110 miles

229

The White Desert

from Maudheim. It was too bad on the thirty-first for outside work,
so we spent the entire day lying up in the caboose, our first such day
since October 22.

An improvement came next morning, so after further seismic work
we moved oft, and covered twenty-eight miles down to a camp site on
the floating ice shelf. In addition to seismic work, we covered about
fifty miles during the next two days over the flat ice shelf in company
with the geologists. On January 4 the geologists continued on to
Maudheim, while the seismic party made a detour to the ice hill some
thirty-seven miles east of Maudheim. That night, when camped on
the top of this hill, we were asked to return as soon as possible to
Maudheim. We replied that we could be back by late the following
night. In all we covered some forty-three miles that last day. As this
was too much for our dogs, who were tiring a little, we carried six of
them on the weasel and sledges, but the seventh was too restless so
was left loose to run behind. This he did, keeping pace with the
weasel the entire distance. A surface fog threatened to halt our pro
gress as we approached Maudheim, but this cleared and we arrived
at 0100 on January 6, to find most of the base asleep.

With the exception of a couple of hours spent working a seismic
station near Maudheim two days later for the benefit of photographer
Hallgren, this finished the seismic work of the expedition. The dia
gram on pages 226-227 gives a concise picture of the results we
obtained, all said and done, a straightforward contribution to geog
raphy. Besides the seismic results, the journey had, for the first time,
enabled a trained glaciologist to make valuable studies of the condi
tions of the high inland ice plateau. Also, the German claims that the
ice cap in this sector rose to 13,700 feet above sea level, considerably
higher than is known elsewhere on the Antarctic continent, were
shown to be incorrect.

While further analysis of the results should enable us to learn more
about the mechanism of ice movement and its effect on the rock be
neath, I hope the geographical knowledge we have gained will itself
be thought sufficient justification for the effort involved.

We return now to Maudheim with John Giaeuer.

230

XXIV
THE EXPEDITION COMES TO AN END

SUNSHINE all the time and wonderful moments!

Planes soared away on their distant flights day after day. This was a
very different thing from last summer. If it continued so, the Swedes
would achieve their aerial survey in record time, and in Maudheim
there would be packing in haste, so that we might be ready to go when
the airmen had finished their mission. And that was just how things
happened.

Now there was, of course, a snow layer more than six feet deep all
over the base, and I had been thinking we should escape the melted
snow this summer. But I had not reckoned with so much sun, nor had
I taken into account that the snow was full of black soot. During the
last few months we had fueled the stoves with diesel oil to save the
kerosine, in case it proved necessary to stay over a third winter. The
diesel oil made fearfully sooty smoke, and the soot mingled with
the snow outside. Then the sun heated up the soot particles, and the
heat melted the snow far down into the drift. The water penetrated
farther down through the snow layers and caused a deluge indoors.
It was worst in corridors. There the temperature was invariably
several degrees below freezing point, so that the water immediately
froze hard. Then absolute glaciers formed everywhere. Thick layers
of ice spread over all our equipment; it was a strenuous task and a wet
one too, to salvage the boxes we had to take away with us. In fact,
the corridors had to be evacuated at once. But as the roof and all
the snow above rested on the boxes, these had to be shored up with
new supports to prevent the whole corridor system from collapsing.

The sun s rays are indeed tremendously powerful. Captain von
Essen had marked the boundaries of the airfield with lines of dry
black powder to facilitate the judging of distances while landing. But

231

The White Desert

not many days later the powder had already eaten its way down into
the snow surface, so that the airfield was surrounded by ditches two
feet in depth.

Snowy weather came at the turn of the year and lasted for two days
and nights. For the airmen a breathing space was welcome, but at
Maudheim packing went ahead with all speed. Load after load was
driven down on the bay ice to the ship and winched aboard.

At Maudheim things were thoroughly comfortless during these days.
The base was in a state of disintegration; and water was pouring down
everywhere. The whole floor space was taken up with packing cases
crammed full of instruments and usable equipment. The outside cor
ridors were levelled and the snow sank directly the cases were re
moved. The general bustle grew from day to day, while von Essen and
Skappel and the observer "Nisse" Nilsson took photographs of group
after group of mountains.

While all this was going forward, Robin s and Roots parties were
working their way nearer and nearer on their homeward journeys.
The groups were together now, and we heard Peter on the radio
telephone every evening. On January 3, 1 sent orders to the field par
ties to come home as quickly as possible. And they came.

Nils Roer made a sensible suggestion. The sea was open and ice-
free as far as one could see to the northeast from the planes. Wouldn t
it be an idea to sail in that direction and survey the coast with the aid
of radar apparatus, at the same time taking a series of soundings on
both the outward and return voyage?

Obviously it was a very good plan. The air unit moved up to Maud
heim meanwhile, and Norsel started out for this voyage on the morn
ing of January 5. The weather was brilliant, but with radar we could
have undertaken exactly the same survey even if there had been a thick
gray mist. Roer supervised the work, assisted by Lieutenants Blair
and Higgins and Captain Jakobsen, and he was in ecstasies over the
efficiency of radar. There we were going at full speed along the ice
front, and the apparatus took in every detail, every inlet and every
tiny indentation.

Norsel continued in the same direction all day. The shore lead was
open as far out as we could see, but von Essen reported that it tapered

232

The Expedition Comes to an End

farther to the northeast. Meanwhile I informed Maudheim that we,
too, would continue the survey as far as it should prove feasible in
the direction of the Greenwich meridian. It would take a couple of
days, but such a chance must be used to the full. Schytt was with us
on this voyage, intensely interested, as one would expect, in the con
figuration of this coast line. For my part, I was eager to see whether
there would have been practicable landing places to the northeast
in 1950, when for so many days at a stretch we were pushing about in
the pack ice south of Cape Norvegia.

Schytt had already examined the flow of ice far inland, and here
he had the answer to the question where that flow entered the sea.
Here in the east there was no quiescent ice shelf as at Maudheim.
Undulating and crevassed, the inland ice rolled and heaved over the
land substratum. Here the glaciers were alive and active to the utmost
extent. I did indeed see several places where we might have landed
in 1950, but I was devoutly thankful to the special providence which
at that time directed our course to the stable ice shelf by Maudheim.
A base established on top of a mass of ice so mobile as this would
have been precarious in the extreme. Looking southward we could
see numerous crevasses. The task of finding a practicable weasel route
up to the mountains from here would certainly have entailed both
risks and difficulties.

Here were we, sailing along through open water, all along the
coast, so early as the first half of January, surveying unknown features.
It was in itself historic, since hitherto no such thing had ever been
done by anyone in these regions. We were able at the same time to
take a double series of soundings at various distances from the ice
front, thus including ocean depths in die map. I actually thought
about going on eastward as far as the open water extended: for at
Maudheim they would be managing very well.

What do you think?" I asked Captain Guttorm. "Do you agree
to our going on?"

"Certainly/* was Guttorm s answer. "This will perhaps be the one
and only chance in this century. Well go as far as you like."

But at about 10 p.m. Norsels engine stopped, and we were at a
standstill. A bearing had become overheated and a spare had to be

233

Map of ice front based on observations made from the Morsel, January 1952

fitted. It was found that part of the crank shaft was scored. We
would have to turn back!

Norsel has six cylinders. If worst came to worst, we could probably
have cut out one of them (as we were obliged to do later) and kept
going on the five. But the full six cylinders are essential to provide
sufficient power for breaking through close pack ice, and I had to bear
in mind that, above all else, we must get out to sea and go home. So
turn we must! It was one of the bitterest moments in my life. Such a
thing, however, will happen with all kinds of ships and on any sea.
In fact, it often does happen. But when the vessel is behind 900 miles
of close-packed ice and thousands of miles of sea, one cannot take
.any chances.

234

The Expedition Comes to an End

Everything was all right at Maudheim. On January 6, 1 had a mes
sage that the field parties were back and all was well. The next day
von Essen with Fred Roots flew south to the mountain peaks which
the Germans called "Kraulgebirge," and which were rediscovered by
Walford and Tudor in 1950 and again by Friis-Baastad in 1951. Von
Essen, Nilsson and Skappel all swore that the Germans could not have
seen those mountains in 1939, according to their own evidence on
flying routes and heights. If that is so, these mountains were dis
covered by Squadron Leader Brian Walford in 1950!

Swedish flights during the last season. Heights are given in meters

The White Desert

So we moored once more at the ice front in Norselbukta late at
night on January 7. The men who had arrived back last came to visit
us on board and sample the beer. Von Essen reported that the Swed
ish air unit s mission had been completed. In all some 100,000 square
miles had been covered, a magnificent achievement.

Von Essen turned on all hands for the dismantling of the air base.
At the same time the order went forth for departure on January 15.
On the very next day the Swedes had both aircraft aboard. It was an
outstanding performance. And the same night the ice began to break
up on the bay! Great floes came loose and drifted seaward.

On January 9 Norsel went out into the open sea, to give the en
gineers a chance to repair the damaged engine properly before we
began to grapple with the pack ice in the north. We lay to and rolled
on a gentle swell a few miles from the coast. But the Antarctic was
bound to plague us a little at the bitter end! Just after breakfast on
January 10, we were on the point of drifting down on an iceberg.
The ship lay helpless with its engine out of action. Yet we fooled the
monster this time too put out one of the motorboats and towed
Norsel clear. It was a narrow shave.

The next day the engine was working again, and we went south
ward to Selbukta to map the coast. Right up to Cape Norvegia there
was open water, but farther south was close pack ice. Far down south-
southwest, however, a dark water sky showed clearly. We could cer
tainly have forced the pack ice and gone far into the Weddell Sea
this summer. But another expedition must do that another time. We
could not take such chances now. On the return voyage the coast
between Cape Norvegia and Norselbukta was mapped, and some
series of soundings were taken at the same time.

January 12 was a sad day. The weather, certainly, was all right,
and the loading went ahead at a rattling pace. But we had to shoot
all our dogs except four. As was very natural, the authorities in
Norway and Sweden had refused to let us take any of them home,
while the British were only interested in having four dogs back for
examination. Obviously the paw disease described early in this ac
count was the reason for these decisions.

I fully agreed with the authorities that we could not risk carrying

236

The Expedition Comes to an End

the disease with us to the three countries. So the dogs were shot. I
can only say the destruction of the animals was managed in such
a way that they knew nothing about it. Schytt shot each dog in the
back of the neck, and each one was buried before the next was
fetched out.

On the same day Maudheim Radio went off the air. Its last tele
gram, like its first, was sent to H.M. King Haakon.

Late at night on January 14 everything had been brought aboard,
and the men from Maudheim one after another had moved into their
cabins. On the fifteenth towards evening we twenty-six men drove up
to the base for the last time. The three flags were saluted and a last
toast was drunk at Maudheim and for Maudheim; but first we had,
of course, drunk to the kings of the three nations.

At half -past seven that evening we cast off and put out from the

bay.

Before we rounded the point two wreaths were dropped on the sea
as a last tribute to our three young dead-Leslie Quar, Bertil
Ekstrom and John Jelbart. It was grievous beyond all words that
now we were on our way home cheerful and well, yet with our
elation marred by a feeling of sadness without them. The wreaths
tossed in the wash at the very place where the three had disappeared.
The flag was lowered.

Then the flag went up again.

We rounded the point and put out to sea. Norselbukta closed in
behind us Pynten alone was for long within sight

On January 16 Norsel passed between and at times through great
floes with quite a number of old pressure ridges along them; it was
winter ice breaking up. The observation at noon on the next day
gave the position 67 20 south, 8 40 west, and the day after that
we were one degree farther north. Here the pack ice was closer and
heavier, with larger floes, and there was hard ramming to be done.
Some of the men went out on the ice and sank up to their thighs in
soft snow. We were hove to there for four hours and held quite fast
between the floes. This, however, was really the only difficulty that
Norsel met with on the way out. Late in the evening of January 18
we emerged into rotten ice. The vessel went straight through the floes.

237

The White Desert

At 4 a.m. on January 19, Norsel again drove her bow into open
sea at about 65 south, 8 west, after having crossed a moderate ice
belt extending about 400 nautical miles. Captain Guttorm thought
we had ice both east and west of us, and that we had thus hit upon
an inlet in the pack ice. Lucky!

Norsel nosed her way on through the seas, and Rogstad went to
his bunk. From Professor Sverdrup came just this message: "Con
gratulations, congratulations!" He had exhausted his vocabulary of
congratulation that summer and could only repeat himself.

I could not help thinking now of General Hjalmar Riiser-Larseris
words to us before we started off in 1949: "There are two moments
of real pleasure during an expedition the sight of the first ice floe
in front of one, and of the last floe behind one."

For my own part, however, I think I may safely say that after two
years down in the depths, so to speak, of Queen Maud Land s floating
ice shelf, I was certainly happiest of all when I could just catch a
glimpse of the pack ice as it disappeared behind me, far away to the
south. And yet and yet!

Anticipation, for me at least, was tinged with dread as I thought of
the homecoming its receptions, radio and press interviews, filming
and tax assessments, and all the rest. But between us and the Canary-
Islands there still lay many a mile of rolling sea, with days of heat
that were to fling us pole dwellers sweltering on our bunks. Sufficient
unto the day!

"Rolling home, rolling home to old England," sang a thin voice
somewhere down in the ship. Northward over the sea the sun played
in and out between black pillars of rain. A pale albatross floated
towards us. In the trade wind belt we plunged into the heat as if
through the door to a fiery-hot boiler room.

So we entered once more on the path of the flying fish and our
homeward way.

238

Appendix I
AIR OPERATIONS-FIRST SEASON, 1949-50

By WlNG-COMMANDER BRIAN WALFORD, O.B.E.

"The honor of being the first areonaut to make an ascent in the
Antarctic regions, perhaps somewhat selfishly I chose for myself . . .
and as I swayed about in what appeared a very inadequate basket
and gazed down at the rapidly diminishing figures below, I felt some
doubt as to whether I had been wise in my choice."

Captain R. F. SCOTT,

The Voyage of the Discovery ( 1900).

EVEN BEFORE the dawn of the aviation era, Scott thus recognized the value
of air observation in polar exploration, but the first powered flight to take
place in the far south followed twenty-seven years later when another great
explorer, Sir Hubert Wilkins, undertook some preliminary reconnaissances
of Graham Land. Thereafter, aircraft were fairly regular features of the
equipment of exploring vessels, but Admiral Byrd was the first to use them
on a lavish scale for penetration inland.

Until 1949, some twenty expeditions equipped with aircraft had been
made to the Antarctic. Broadly, the work they undertook was either coastal
reconnaissance not associated with a landing, or reconnaissance inland
when a base had been set up in one of the better known regions of the
continent.

The International Committee considered, early in the planning stages,
that some form of air reconnaissance might be necessary for the launching
of the wintering party, and they set out the following requirements for the
aircraft in the first season:

(a) Provision of local air reconnaissance to assist the vessel in finding

a way through the pack ice.
(6) Air reconnaissances to examine the continental coast in the search

for a landing place,
(c) Air reconnaissances of the area surrounding the landing place and

base.

239

The White Desert

We probed deeply into the experience of others with similar problems in
the past, but found conflicting opinions on all the major issues and our
choices of technique and equipment were largely a matter of guesswork.

A helicopter, at first sight, seemed to meet the requirements, but on closer
examination the problems of operating space and availability of a suitable
machine disqualified it, and the suggestion was made that a light conven
tional-type aircraft might serve better. Falkland Islands Dependencies
Survey had recently had some success with an Auster type; and as these
aircraft were readily available in the Royal Air Force, it was agreed that
they should be used.

The standard Auster Mark VI weighs 2,160 Ib. and has a wing span of
36 feet and length of 238 feet. The Gipsy Major 7 develops 142 h.p. and
the aircraft cruises at 85 knots. The endurance is 3-4 hours with normal
load of 23 gallons.

Broadly we envisaged carrying two of these aircraft south in boxes and
planned to assemble one on board when the need arose.

So little was known of the ice conditions, that we were unable to secure
any precise guidance in the selection of an undercarriage. For the prelim
inary search phases it would obviously be of great benefit if the aircraft
were able to use floats, but no one was able to say very definitely whether
the incidence of open water would be greater or less than of suitable ice
floes. The question of floats was investigated, but no suitable or proved
assembly was available. Six weeks before sailing, however, we were able
to order a float assembly which was delivered on board a few hours before
we sailed. Ski equipment for both aircraft had already been ordered. We
departed, therefore, prepared to fly with wheels, wheels and skis, skis alone,
or floats.

Special preparations to the aircraft would have to be made to fit them
for the task, and a program of modifications was launched with the follow
ing main objects:

( a ) Simple and reliable cockpit starting in cold weather without need
for preheating.

(b) Longer range.

( c ) The carriage of loads to an all up weight of 2,500 Ib.

(d) Improved radio and radio aids to navigation.

(e) Strengthened undercarriage.

With so small a vessel the space available to the needs of aviation was at
the cost of other expedition supplies and perhaps comforts, and we were

240

Air Operations, First Season

soon made to realize that the sacrifice would only be tolerable if the aircraft
were successful in contributing some substantial assistance to the party. We
were therefore determined to ensure that our equipment would arrive serv
iceable at the scene of operation. Thanks to the ingenuity of Messrs. Auster
Aircraft Ltd., an excellent crate was devised. It was designed to fulfill the
secondary function of a portable workshop and technical store.

The second aircraft was carried to Cape Town packed in a normal crate
in a fully dismantled state. The large crate was designed to fit in a space
on the afterdeck bounded by two sides, the engine room skylight and the
aft-boat platform.

These, broadly, were our preparations, and a description of how things
worked out would best be given in narrative form at the risk of repeating
some events unfolded already in the body of the book.

As soon as Norsel arrived in London, a working party from the R.A.F.
installed V.H.F. ground equipment on board and the aircraft were loaded.

For the first week out moderate gales prevailed and sea-sickness was
general. Both crates were awash, but no great damage was sustained. We
arrived in Table Bay on December 20, and for the next week worked hard
on the quayside removing the aircraft from the large crate and attaching its
wings and undercarriage. We dispensed with the small crate, and after
partial assembly of the aircraft within it, placed it inside the larger crate.
The assembled aircraft was embarked on top of the crate in an athwart-
ships position. This work enabled us to reduce the space we would occupy
on the vessel and to have one aircraft ready to fly at short notice. The crate
received some very cruel punishment from the sea in the Roaring Forties,
but both aircraft were still intact by the time we finally reached the ice
towards the end of February.

The conditions being suitable for going a stage further in getting the
aircraft ready, we set about turning the exposed aircraft around from
athwartships to the fore-and-aft position. The derrick then raised it, and we
attached the Canadian ski-wheel combination undercarriage.

Hitherto it had been the leader s hope to be able to penetrate to the con
tinent without air reconnaissance, or, if held up, to be able to fly off the ski
plane from the pack ice. It was for this operation that we remained at readi
ness from January 24.

By the end of the month it had become clear that we would be most un
likely to find a floe large or flat enough for use as a runway. One or two

241

The White Desert

had been passed measuring some 250 yards long, but were all liberally
hiimmocked.

During the evening of January 29, the leader told me that he could no
longer afford to wait in this position for the pack to open, and that he pro
posed to try to withdraw through it to the open water to the north. He
would attempt penetration farther west. He asked for air reconnaissance
as soon as we made open sea.

The following day we lay in the edge of the pack ice and removed the
ski undercarriage, replacing it with the float assembly.

Next day found us in moderately open water proceeding west along the
ice edge. In the early afternoon the leader and I judged the conditions
favorable. An hour later I was airborne. There was a slight ocean swell,
small chop, and a light southeast breeze and sufficient water free of ice. The
aircraft performance was entirely satisfactory. I remained in the air for
an hour, reporting the nature and direction of the pack ice to the west.

Having by next day proceeded beyond the limit of the first air reconnais
sance, Norsel hove to and Flight Lieutenant Tudor took off with the cap
tain of the ship to seek a lead in the pack ice to the south. They were suc
cessful.

We were now about 13 west and Norsel made her way unhindered
down the lead for twenty-four hours, until at 1920 hours on February 3,
the Antarctic ice front was sighted for the first time as a low gray streak
on the horizon. But nowhere could be seen a navigable channel leading
closer in, and at 2000 hours the leader asked for air reconnaissance to report
the condition of the ice front, Selbukta and the ice that lay between.

By 2040 hours I was airborne and set course for Cape Norvegia below
the 800-foot cloud. I flew along the coast to the east and was presently able
to trace a course back to the ship over navigable pack ice. This track the
ship followed during the night and closed the main continental ice shelf
next morning at approximately 13 45 west.

At 1000 hours that day Flight Lieutenant Tudor took off in excellent
conditions to explore the ice front to the east. He covered over forty miles
of coast line and reported three inlets of promising appearance, making a
detailed scrutiny from a low height on his return flight.

This was encouraging news. It was decided to take the ship through the
open water along the ice front to the east and examine the possibilities
further. Again the ship followed a route previously traced out for her by
the aircraft.

Unfortunately on closer examination the first two inlets discovered by

242

Air Operations, First Season

Flight Lieutenant Tudor showed good "wharves" but no way up to the
interior for the weasels. The third possibility had to be rejected because
of impenetrable bay ice.

Two days later we were about 72 south, 15 50 west in moderate
visibility and low cloud. The pack ice was open but continuously on the
move, possible take-off stretches appearing and disappearing in a matter of
minutes. By midday conditions remained far from ideal, but air reconnais
sance was vital in order to establish as soon as possible if there should be
any chance of landing in south Selbukta or Coats Land. The ice front lay
out of sight. I considered the risk worth taking and was airborne in the
early afternoon. Flying to the coast, I reported it barren of any possibilities
whatsoever as far as the eye could see. The aircraft was hoisted inboard un
damaged.

While the aircraft was airborne, the controller, in conjunction with the
captain, was responsible for ensuring that the ship was maneuvered into
areas of water which were free from ice. Normally the aircraft was able
to alight in the same area as that from which it took off, but on two occa
sions it was necessary to move the ship due to drifting ice.

As soon as information was received that the pilot was heading back to
the ship., the controller ordered the dinghy into position. The captain was
requested to make smoke to help the pilot sight the ship and assess the wind
direction. Rockets and Very pistol were prepared for use in case of emer
gency, and the ship s company alerted ready to receive the aircraft back
on board. Finally the alighting area was carefully examined through bin
oculars and landing instructions were passed to the pilot.

A homing aid such as the radio compass proved almost essential, as even
in conditions of good visibility the ship merged into the natural camouflage
of the pack ice at ranges of over three miles.

Friday, February 10, we lay about three miles north of the ice front in a
patch of moderately clear water, with overcast and frequent snow showers.
The leader was not over sanguine of the possibilities in the area, and said
that if the weather did not clear sufficiently for flying by 1300 he would
force on to the east.

Flight Lieutenant Tudor was taxiing out at 1030 hours, but I had to
recall him at the last moment because of a sudden deterioration in the
weather. The aircraft was hoisted out of the water and accumulated ice
rapidly. A small clearance occurred soon after noon the aircraft was de-
iced and Flight Lieutenant Tudor was airborne by 1220. He flew low under
the overcast, straight for the ice front and almost at once reported a likely

243

The White Desert

spot. He returned after twenty minutes and the weather closed in once
more. The leader wished to examine the discovery, but the flight had to be
postponed until later when the ship reached open water in the bay which
led to it. He was flown over the spot and surrounding area by Flight Lieu
tenant Tudor, and on return said he thought that the landing place had at
last been found, but he would Eke a second opinion. I thereupon took up
Robin, who confirmed the leader s views.

It was with great relief that we thus attained our first object.

Ground reconnaissance followed, a base site was selected "inland" and
unloading proceeded.

By noon on February 14, we had two serviceable ski planes ready but the
weather remained bad and we devoted the rest of the day to completing
the dismantling of the crate and moving the spares to an empty hold.

Thursday, February 16, broke fine, with some high cloud the majority
inland and a light air from the south. I took off at 1000 hours with Ser
geant Weston on a performance test. After thirty minutes flight to the west
I detected, away to the southwest, a small dark patch on the horizon. Al
though we were not loaded for a long-range flight it was important to ex
amine this feature more closely under the rare excellence of the prevailing
weather.

Before passing out of radio contact, therefore, I instructed Flight Lieu
tenant Tudor to stand by the second aircraft for a rescue mission. We flew
towards this outcrop of rugged peaks for an hour, and from about five miles
distant I took some color photographs while Sergeant Weston prepared a
sketch. We returned to base after a three hour flight and reported what we
had seen. It was not possible to establish there and then how much, if any, of
these peaks had been plotted by the Germans from a flight 130 miles away
in 1939.

The weather remained fine and I considered it wise to secure confirma
tion of what we had seen by a more thoroughly planned and equipped
sortie. This Flight Lieutenant Tudor, with Corporal Quar, proceeded to
carry out in the afternoon.

I remained airborne over base during this time to act as a radio link be
tween the aircraft and the ship. Meanwhile the cloud had increased to the
south and west, and Flight Lieutenant Tudor had some difficulty in reach
ing the peaks, which emerged only for short periods from the clouds and
haze. Nevertheless, he made a thorough survey of them and brought back
further details and photographs. We arrived independently at the conclu-

244

Air Operations, First Season

sion that these peaks lay approximately in a position 73 south, 13 west. Al
together we flew for twelve hours on these and other flights that day.

Flying continued for the next three days until the afternoon of February
19, when we embarked the first aircraft and secured her on a superstructure
we had prepared over the engine-room skylight. The same evening we dis
mantled the wings of the second and stowed them in the forward hold, with
the fuselage on deck. We had now accomplished what we had set out to do,
and every member of the wintering party and most of the ship s company,
had been flown over the area.

I mentioned earlier that on this voyage the embarkation of an air unit
demanded great sacrifice in space and weight, and it is legitimate to ask
now whether it was worth it and if the principle is sound. As far as the
expedition is concerned, the answer comes best, perhaps, from the leader,
who sent me a signal after our departure in which he said: "The service
rendered us by the R.A.F. in every respect has been of vital importance
to the fulfilment of our plans. I do not hesitate to state that without it we
might have had to return without success/*

245

Appendix II

BIOGRAPHICAL DATA ON MEMBERS
OF THE WINTERING PARTY

John Schelderup Giaeuer: born 1901 in Troms0, a town of northern Norway
lying north of the Arctic Circle. Leader of the wintering party. In 1920
entered a commercial college. Journalist 1921-29. Hunting in northeast
Greenland 1929-31. Leader of a hunting expedition in northeast Green
land 193234. Seal hunting in Kvitsj0, on the west ice off Jan Mayen and
off Newfoundland. From 1935 secretary to the Norwegian research ex
peditions in Svalbard and the Arctic. Expedition around Svalbard in 1936.
Leader of the Norwegian Government relief expeditions to northeast
Greenland from 1937 to 1949. During the war was in Britain, U.S.A. and
Canada. In March 1942 posted to the Royal Norwegian Air Force in
Canada as aircraftsman. From November 1942 head of the "Vesle Skau-
gum" camp. In January 1944 detailed to U.S. School of Military Govern
ment, Charlottesville, Virgina, and thereafter lent to the Norwegian liaison
corps in England. Representative for Civil Affairs to East Finnmark with
the "Finnmark Mission" from November 1944 as "civilian-military major."
Re-established the civil administration in central Finnmark and organized
the system of provisioning the region from Sweden and Varanger. At the
same time was head of "Haerens Reintren" (Army Reindeer Service
Corps). Liaison officer with the British-American Civil Affairs group in
Northern Norway after the capitulation. Adjutant Air Command North
ern Norway for second half of 1945. Chief of Staff, L.K.N. (Air Command,
Northern Norway) first half of 1947. Office chief at the Norwegian Polar
Institute from April 1948. Captain in the Air Force Reserve. Married.

Stig V alter Schytt: born 1919 in Stockholm. Expedition second-in-command
and chief glaciologist. B.A. (Phil.) 1945. M.A. 1946. L.Phil. 1947 at the
University of Stockholm, Assistant in the University Geographical Insti
tute, 1943-47. Carried out research into snow conditions in northern
Lapland, 1944^45. Field leader of the glaciological research party in
Kebnekajse, 1946-49. Journeys for glaciological study in Norway in 1947,
Iceland in 1948 and Switzerland in 1949. Unmarried.

246

Biographical Data

Gordon de Quetteville Robin: bora 1921 in Melbourne, Australia. Third-in-
command of the expedition, and physicist. Educated at Wesley College
(Melbourne) and Melbourne University. Specialized in physics and took
his M.Sc. in 1942. Lieutenant in the Royal Australian Naval Volunteer
Reserve, 1942, on duty mainly with escort convoys in the waters around
Australia and New Guinea until April 1944, when he was lent to the
British Royal Navy and went through a special course on submarines.
Was serving on board H.M. Submarine Stygian off Southern China when
the war ended. Frpm October 1945 spent twelve months on the study of
nuclear physics at Birmingham University, under Professor Oliphant.
From November 1946 attached to the Falkland Islands Dependencies
Survey, first on Laurie Island, South Orkneys, and later as chief meteor
ologist at the station on Signy Island. Took part in the survey of that
island. From October 1948 lecturer in the department of Physics at Bir
mingham University. Unmarried.

Bertil Ekstrom: born 1919 in Svenstorp, Skaraborgslan, Sweden. Mechani
cal engineer to the expedition. In 1919 Ekstrom s family moved to Axvall,
where Bertil went to school. Upon leaving school he was employed in a
repair shop, and he worked there until called up to do his military service
with the P3 Regiment in Strangnas. In January 1941 he became a civilian
employee attached to the same regiment. For three months during the
war he did volunteer service as an armored car mechanic. After that he
returned to work with his regiment until the departure for Antarctica.
Ekstrom was drowned on February 24, 1951. Unmarried.

Stig Eugen Hallgren; born October 10, 1925, in Stockholm. Photographer
to the expedition and all-round man 1951-52. After leaving school he
worked in a film laboratory for six years, and in 1947 was appointed
photographer to the Artfilm Company in Stockholm. He executed several
commissions in film photography, for instance in Brazil, Argentina and
Uruguay; in Finland, Denmark and northern Norway. When in 1950
Artfilm had to send a representative with the Norsel to Maudheim, Hall-
gren was chosen for this exacting task. His further fortunes on the expedi
tion will have been revealed in the account preceding these notes.
Unmarried.

John Ellis Jelbart: born December 1925 in Ballarat, Victoria, Australia,
Spent most of his youth in Ballarat, attended Ballarat High School. In

247

The White Desert

1944 he entered Queen s College, University of Melbourne., and graduated
B.Sc. with honors in physics in March 1947. He served with the A.N.A.R.E.
as cosmic ray physicist with the pioneer Heard Island party from December
1947 until February 1949, maintaining cosmic-ray recording equipment
which he helped to construct in 1947. After returning to Australia, he grad
uated M.Sc., then spent some time on a Queensland sheep station before
joining the A.N.A.R.E. again in October 1950 to act as Australian observer
with the N.B.S. expedition to Queen Maud Land. He was drowned at
Maudheim on February 24, 1951. Unmarried.

Gosta H. Liljequist; born 1914 in Norrkoping, Sweden. Assistant meteor
ologist to the expedition. Matriculated 1933 in Kalmar. Studied at Lund
University 1933-37, and took his B.A.(PhiL) in 1936. First assistant at
Borno Oceanography Research Station 1937-38, and took part in oceano-
graphic expeditions in Swedish waters. Appointed to the staff of the
Swedish Meteorological and Hydrological Institute in 1948. Expedition
to Jan Mayen and Iceland in 1945 and to Svalbard in 1947. Married.

Bjarne Lorentzen: born April 10, 1900, in Lodingen, northern Norway.
Cook to the expedition 1951-52. After the school-leaving examination
tried out a commercial career and, among other things, attended a com
mercial college in Oslo. But in 1923 he went to sea. Then he made another
attempt to work ashore, but the seafarer s life drew him again chiefly for
overseas trading voyages in Norwegian and Swedish ships. He was now
working in the galley, and that was to be his domain for the rest of his
days. During his somewhat changeful existence, Lorentzen has gone
whaling in South Africa, as well as fishing in Lofoten, Novaya Zemlya and
west Greenland. He is married and has one daughter.

Peter Melleby: born January 11, 1917, in Halden, Norway. In charge of
dogs, reserve radio operator on the expedition, reserve mechanic for weasels
and general handyman. Matriculation examination 1937 and Oslo
Technical College the year after. Worked in the mines with the Store
Norske Spitsbergen Coal Company at Longyearbyen in Svalbard from
1939 to 1941. Reached Scotland in September 1941 and entered the
Norwegian Army. Skiing instructor to the British in Iceland till April
1942; was sent to Svalbard on military service the same spring. Took part
in several engagements against the Germans. Trained as radio-telegraphist
at the Norwegian Navy radio school in Edinburgh from the autumn of

248

Biographical Data

1943. Again sent to Svalbard in the autumn of 1944, as sergeant, and
worked at the meteorological station in Hiorthhamn until September 1945.
Discharged from the Army April 1946. Hunting in northeast Greenland
from 1946 to 1948. Unmarried.

Scholberg Nilsen: born in Risoyhamn, Vesteralen, Norway. Well known as
a winter traveler and hunting expert. Appointed cook to the expedition
but fell ill and on the order of the doctor returned home on the Norsel
in 1950.

Leslie Quar: radio mechanic and reserve operator, electrician and assistant
to the scientists. His father, Mr. A. W. Quar, West Croydon, Surrey, gives
the following personal details: "Leslie was born on March 27, 1923. He
went to Elmwood Boys School, Croydon, until he was fourteen, and did
fairly well there. When he was due to leave, it had been arranged, as every
year, that he should go away for his holiday, but instead he came home
with a letter of introduction to Imperial Airways from his headmaster,
who had taken an interest in him. He went for an interview on the day he
was due to leave school, and got the job. When asked when he would
start, he answered-on the following Monday forfeiting his holiday, as
he said he did not want to lose the job. In 1939, two months after he was
sixteen, he joined the R.A.F. as a boy entrant, and he went to Cranwell,
where he trained as a wireless operator. He became a Corporal Boy by
the time he left Cranwell in 1941, and three months after this he went to
the Middle East, where he stayed until the end of the war. After about
twelve months back in this country, he went to Germany, where he was
engaged in demolition of fortifications and U-boat pens. He was due to
be discharged somewhere about the time he volunteered for the expedi
tion/ Leslie was unmarried. He was drowned on February 24, 1951.

Alan Reece: born 1921 in London. Assistant geologist to the expedition.
Trained at Chelsea Polytechnic and Imperial College, London. 1942-44
meteorologist at Royal Naval Air Station, Orkney Islands, and Admiralty
Forecast Section. Then was transferred to the Colonial Office for the Falk
land Islands Dependencies Survey. In 1945 chief meteorologist at Decep
tion Island, South Sheilands. In 1946 meteorologist at Hope Bay in Graham
Land. Assisted in the survey of Trinity Peninsula, and in the summer of
1946_47 carried out geological researches in Admiralty Bay and on King

249

The White Desert

George Island, South Shetlands. Studied geology at the Imperial College,
London, and took the examination in 1949. Unmarried.

Nils Roer: born 1914 in Skien, Norway. Surveyor to the expedition. Ex
amination of the State School of Forestry, Kongsberg, 1936. Passed out
of the Agricultural College of Norway, land apportionment section, in
1940. Worked as surveyor in the land apportionment commission in Sor-
Trondelag province 1940, in Buskerud 1941-42. Appointed as topographer
in the Geographical Survey of Norway 1943, transferred from the Survey
1945-46 for survey of "scorched" lands in Finnmark. Course in photo
graphy at the Technical Academy of Zurich 1942. Married; two children.

Egil Rogstad: born 1908 in Opset, Vinger, Norway. Chief radio operator
to the expedition. Field Artillery Officers Training School, Oslo, 1926-30,
and commercial college 1931. Siege Artillery Radio School, Oscarsborg,
1932-33. Ship s radio officer on overseas trade voyages 1935-38. Director
of Myggbukta Radio in northeast Greenland 1938-39. Functioned as
radio operator both in aircraft and on the ground during the actions in
Norway from Trondheim to Roros and northward as far as Kirkenes. In
terned at Kemi, Finland, in 1940, but got across to Sweden and thence via
Siberia and Japan to "Lille Norge" in Canada. Radio operator 330 (N)
Squadron in Iceland from June 1941 to January 1943, when he was posted
to "Island X" (Jan May en) as radio operator and weather observer. Re
turned to Norway in February 1946 and served in the Navy till 1947. Was
employed as aircraft radio operator in the Norwegian Airways Service
till 1949. Famous as a skiing expert and Holmenkollen champion. Un
married.

Ernest Frederick Roots: born 1922 in Salmon Arm, British Columbia,
Canada. Chief geologist to the expedition. Educated at Vancouver Tech
nical School, University of British Columbia, and Princeton University.
Fred has had such a varied career that I cannot resist the temptation to
quote his own short account: 1936-38 assistant meteorological observer at
Banff Weather Station; 1938-39 lumbering in Squamish, B.C.; 1940 pros
pecting for Kelowna Exploration Company in British Columbia; 1941 and
1942 surveying for the Canadian Government (in the Rocky Mountains) ;
1942-44 night duty at the University of British Corambia and instructor
in the geological department of the university 1944-47. Geological research
for the Government from 1943 till 1949. Fred began early on mountain
climbing and "ski mountaineering/ 7 In 1938 he qualified as a skiing expert

250

Biographical Data

and was admitted member of the society of "SH Runners of the Canadian
Rockies." He says himself: "The work with the geological survey since 1943
has been pretty well straight mountaineering; maybe that s why I became a
geologist." Canadian Army (Reserve), 39th Battalion, Combined Opera
tions and Mountain Warfare Contingent 1941-45. Unmarried.

Nils-Jorgen Schumacher: born 1919 in Soroya, Vest-Finnmark, northern
Norway. Senior meteorologist to the expedition. Matriculation in 1938. At
Oslo University as a student in the department of science and modem
studies, with meteorology for his main subject, from 1938 until the Cer-
mans closed the university in 1943. Degree examination in March 1949.
Assistant at the Meteorological Institute, Oslo, autumn 1943. Air Force
meteorologist in June 1945. Meteorologist at the Meteorological Institute
of Oslo, May 1946 to July 1949. Unmarried.

John Snarby: born May 21, 1922, in Tromsoysund, Norway. Cook on the
Norsel. Joined the wintering party as cook 1950-51 after his arrival in
Maudheim in February 1950. Stewards training school and four years
practical work in the galley. Married; one son.

Charles Swithinbank: born 1926 in Pegu, Burma. Assistant glaciologist to
the expedition. Educated at Bryanston and at Pembroke College, Oxford.
Lieutenant in the Royal Navy 1944-46, and served on minesweepers and
aircraft carriers. In 1947 joined the Oxford University expedition to
Vatnajokull in Iceland, and in 1948 an expedition to Gambia in British
West Africa. Finished at Oxford one month before our expedition left
England. Unmarried.

Ove Wilson: expedition medical officer. Is a son of the Swedish-American
engineer Paul Wilson who was famous as world professional champion
in figure skating and accordingly Ove s childhood and youth were spent
in unusually restless conditions. Born in 1921 in Berlin, on a journey
through, baptized at top speed in Zinzendorf." Went to school in Italy,
France, Sweden, Canada, U.S.A. and Spain. Passed into Lund University,
Sweden, in 1941. Medical degree 1944. Ship s doctor during 1947. Leader
in School Mountaineering Expeditions, 1944-47. Course for Mountaineer-
doctors at Storlien 1948. Battalion doctor at the Army Riflemen s Train
ing School (lieutenant s rank) in Kiruna during the winter of 1949. Moun
taineer doctor on the Lapland border the same year. Unmarried.

251

Appendix III
GLOSSARY

Anemometer Instrument for measuring wind speed

Anorak Windproof jacket with a hood

Arachnids Group of animals including the spiders

Arete Narrow rocky ridge

Barograph Instrument for recording air pressure

Bergschrund Deep crack at the head of a glacier

Caboose A small hut mounted on a sledge towed by a weasel

(tracked snow-vehicle)

Cirque Steep valley head formed by glacial erosion

Col Narrow mountain pass

Couloir Steep mountain gully

Crampons Spiked boot attachment for walking on ice

Crevasse Deep crack in a glacier

Dog-wires Wires to which dogs are tethered

Entozoon Internal animal parasite

Escarpment Long cliff

Gabbroic sills Sheets of dark crystalline rock

Glaciology Study of snow and ice

Gneiss Banded rock formed under great heat and pressure

Ice borer Tool for drilling holes in ice

252

Ice edge
Ice fall
Ice front
Ice shelf

Ice spear
Katabatic wind

Metamorphic rocks

Moon-dogs
(paraselenae)

Moraine
Mudstone
Nautical mile
Neve

Nunatak
Orpiment
Pack ice
Paraselenae
Pegmatites
Pemmican
Pressure ridge
Radio-sonde

Rawin

Glossary

Edge of the pack ice

Steep cascading glacier

Seaward-facing cliffs of a floating ice shelf

Flat sheet of floating ice, 10 to 600 ft. thick, which
fringes much of the coast of Antarctica

Chisel-tipped staff for probing sea ice and con
cealed crevasses

Wind blowing downhill caused by unequal tem
peratures on a mountain slope

Rocks changed by heat and pressure.

Mock moons or luminous patches caused by refrac
tion through ice crystals in the atmosphere.

Rock fragments carried or deposited by a glacier

Mud hardened into rock

1.15 statute miles, or 2027 yards

Snow that has become coarse-grained and compact
through temperature changes

Rock crag rising from an ice sheet

Bright yellow

Ice formed by the freezing of the sea

See Moon-dogs

Vein of coarse crystalline rock

Concentrated food made from dried beef and fat

Ridge formed by ice floes jammed together

Instruments carried by balloon to determine at
mospheric conditions at great heights

Instrument for determining the path taken by a
radio-sonde balloon (q.v.)

253

Sasfrugi

Schists

Seismic sounding

Seismology

Seismometer

Sennegrass

Snow bridge

Spicule

Triangulation

Weasel
Wind-charger
Wind generator

The White Desert

Scalloped snow surface caused by strong winds
Flaky crystalline rocks

Method of measuring ice thickness by surface ex
plosion and timing the arrival of echoes from the
rock beneath

Study of earth vibrations

Instrument for recording vibrations in rock or ice
Dried grass used for insulation in footwear
Roof of a crevasse formed by drifted snow
Needle-shaped crystal

Method of determining position of points during
survey

Tracked snow vehicle
See Wind generator

Electric generator driven by a wind-blown pro
peller

254

Appendix IV
GLOSSARY OF GEOGRAPHIACAL NAMES

MANY names of geographical features mentioned in this book are of
Scandinavian or, in some cases, German origin. The following list
gives English equivalents for the more common geographical terms
in this category which occur in the text or maps :

Barkleyfjella

Boreas

Borgen

Bouvet0ya

Domen

Facetten

F0rstefjell (Fjzfrstefjellet)

F0rstefjellsryggen

Gburektoppane

Gockelkammen

Heksegryta

Hermannfjella

Hornet

isrygg

Kraulberge

Kraulfjella

Kriigerfjellet

Mayrfjella

Neumayerveggen

Norselbukta

Ostasen

Passat

Paulsenfjella

Pencksokka

Barkley Range
Mount Boreas
Mount Borg
Bouvet Island
The Dome
Mount Facette
F0rstefjell nunatak
F0rstefjell Ridge
Gburek Peaks
Gockel Ridge
The Witches Cauldron
Herrmann Range
The Horn
ice ridge
Kraul Mountains
Kraul Mountains
Mount Kriiger
Mount Mayr
Neumayer Escarpment
Norsel Bay
the eastern hill
Mount Passat
Mount Paulsen
Penck Depression

255

The White Desert

Pynten The Point

Pyramiden The Pyramid

Regula-kjeden Regula Chain

Regulakette Regula Chain

Rodberget Red Mountain

Rodbergsdalen Red Mountain Valley

Selbukta Seal Bay

Sistefjell Sistef jell nunatak

Sorasen the southeastern hill

Steinkumpen scattered nunataks

Sukkertoppen Mount Sukkertopp

256

1 02 494