THE FRIENDLY ARCTIC 35 



tight. It was only a question of hours, if the wind remained in 

 the same northerly quarter, until we should be as closely hemmed 

 in from behind as we were before. The wind did not change, and 

 by noon the next day everything was so closely pressed together 

 that we felt sure of being able to walk ashore, although the distance 

 was several miles. We had drifted ahead since tying up and the 

 village of Cape Smythe now lay only about twenty-five miles 

 ahead. I thought it would be a good idea to walk to land and 

 then up the beach to make some purchases in the village and pos- 

 sibly to hire some Eskimos, these to be picked up by the Karluk 

 whenever the ice opened again so she could proceed. Thus we 

 might save a day or two of time. To give Dr. Mackay a chance 

 to compare the Arctic with the Antarctic, I invited him to come 

 with me. A dog sled carrying a canoe for use in an emergency 

 accompanied us ashore, but we found not the least trouble in hop- 

 ping from cake to cake even in places where there was a little 

 water separating them, and finally from the last cake to the beach. 

 The sled with the boat returned to the Karluk and we started on 

 our walk northeastward. 



The first thing the Doctor noticed was the prairie-like character 

 of the land, for grass covered everything. I think he almost hoped 

 at first that this was the exception, but by the time we had walked 

 a few miles over a country something between a prairie and a 

 meadow he finally asked if all the Arctic was like this. It did not 

 come at all up to his expectations; or, rather, it did not come 

 down to his expectations. He had been reading the literature of 

 arctic exploration from childhood. Eternal ice and everlasting 

 snow, silence and desolation were what he expected. When he 

 found instead green grass, twittering birds and buzzing mosquitoes, 

 he felt like one who runs a long way expecting to see a fire and 

 finds no houses burning. I was able to reconcile him to the sit- 

 uation somewhat by promising in due course winter blizzards, fairly 

 low temperatures, and a few worthy difficulties. 



But it was clear that his general feeling remained one of disap- 

 pointment, if not disdain. This was nearly the most northerly 

 point of continental North America, and it measured up to neither 

 the books that he had read nor the Antarctic in which he had 

 spent a year. The fact is, however, that although in appearance 

 the Antarctic does come more nearly up to story-book standards, 

 it is an easier country to deal with, especially for those who come 

 to it burdened with the heroic ideals of the classic explorer. Peary 

 has made this clear in various of his books and other writings. 



