1914] TO UPERNAVIK AND BACK 121 



We were off the day before Christmas, with fourteen 

 Eskimos headed south to visit friends and relatives — 

 the annual gossiping trip. Tanquary rode on my 

 sledge until dogs could be purchased. 



As we passed around Cape Alexander, the Crystal 

 Palace Glacier gave us its usual reception. With a 

 howling wind and drift at our backs, we raced down 

 from the summit to the sea amid the snapping of whips, 

 the yelling of the men, the bound and leap of sledges, 

 and the crying of securely bundled children. The 

 sledges were carefully lowered with rawhide lines over 

 the nearly vertical icy face to the ice-foot bordering 

 upon a smoky, open sea. Working along a narrow ice- 

 foot in the dark with an energetic train of dogs is ex- 

 tremely hazardous. Often the preservation of one's 

 very life exacts every ounce of strength. Constantly 

 alert to avoid protruding rocks, rubbles of ice, holes, 

 deep cracks, and slippery slopes leading to the sea, 

 quick decisions are imperative; action must be im- 

 mediate. It is a glorious fight against the antagonistic 

 weapons of the Northland! And when the last round 

 is fought, although the temperature may be at fifty and 

 sixty below, one is reeking with perspiration. 



As we started south that night, a section of the ice- 

 foot cracked beneath our sledge and fell seaward, leav- 

 ing Tanquary, who- was guiding the sledge, with one 

 foot over the crevice, fairly tottering on the edge. Three 

 seconds previous in time or three feet in advance might 

 have brought about serious results. Such an incident, 

 one of many, is but typical and is well illustrative of 

 Arctic work. 



Christmas Day found us reeking with sweat, pushing 

 and pulling our sledges up over the Clements Markham 



