384 ANNUAL REPORT SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION, 1949 
Latady, and me. He had pumped the last drum of gasoline and 30 
extra gallons of gas from the Norseman’s tanks into the Beechcraft 
and already had breakfast waiting. At 5:20 a. m. we took off, with a 
clear blue sky overhead. This time, however, we were unable to leave 
with full fuel tanks, and consequently my plan for the flight had to be 
slightly modified. Instead of flying due south for some distance, I 
decided to follow the shelf ice southeast to Moltke Nunatak and Coats 
Land, and then go south as far as our gas supply would permit. 
Twenty minutes after the take-off we flew over the dog-team party, 
still sledging south. They were taking advantage of the better snow 
surfaces during the hours when the sun was lowest. From time to 
time we passed through patches of overcast, which made us lose 
altitude. J noticed that the area of open water to the north had 
increased considerably since our flight of November 21. The looseness 
of the pack ice as seen through my field glasses confirmed my belief 
that a sturdy vessel could have sailed right up to the shelf ice if condi- 
tions to the north were similar. In 78°25’ S., 44° W., we crossed a 
deeply indented bay, about 20 by 20 miles, which I named Gould Bay. 
At the head of the bay was an ice fall, heavily crevassed for a width 
of about a mile or more inland. Tongues of ice protruded into the 
head of the bay and the bay itself was partly filled with small tabular 
bergs, cemented together with sea ice. It reminded me very much of 
the Bay of Whales, in the Ross Shelf Ice in approximately the same 
latitude on the opposite side of the continent. Gould Bay would seem 
to offer a suitable place for landing a wintering party. Shortly after 
we had crossed the bay, overcast skies appeared straight ahead. To 
the north and northeast, practically ice-free water could be seen to 
the horizon. There was, however, some loose pack ice next to the 
shelf ice. By taking a sun sight to obtain a line of position, and by 
dead reckoning, I estimated that we were in 78°40’ S., 40° W., and 
about 50 miles west of Moltke Nunatak. Through a light haze we 
could see the easterly trend of the shelf ice. 
LAND BENEATH ICE SHEET 
Three hours and seven minutes after we had taken off, black clouds 
covered the surface beneath, and we were forced to change our course 
to 218° true. Through a distant clearing beyond the clouds we could 
see a snowy surface without visible rock outcrops. From our elevation 
we were unable to see either Moltke Nunatak or other mountains, 
and if any exist, they either are small in size or were obscured by the 
clouds. Our new course took us along the edge of the overcast. As 
this was a most important leg of our flight, I scanned the horizon with 
field glasses for a break of surface, but none was visible. At 8:50 
a. m. Lassiter informed me that one of the fuselage tanks might run 
dry at any minute, and I knew, to my sorrow, that we should have to 
