54 SPITSBERGEN chap, iv 



the distances were swallowed up in fog. How long we 

 might be kept it was impossible to tell. We risked being 

 left behind, and landed for a tramp over bogs and water- 

 patches, covered with snow that let us through, knee-deep 

 in freezing slush. Search for birds, flowers, and stones 

 enlivened the otherwise dreary way to the mouth of the 



ENTERING ICE FJORD, LOOKING NORTH. 



Russian Valley. An hour's walk led to the crest of a rounded 

 ridge, the northward prolongation of Mount Starashchin, 

 whence we looked down on a lake, frozen over and snow- 

 covered, whose mottled surface looked like a bed of morn- 

 ing mist filling a valley. 



In the evening our men returned to the ship with some 

 birds and the skin and blubber of a young whale. Later, a 



