388 ANNUAL REPORT SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION, 1949 
Paul Lee loomed high above the terrain looking westward to the 
extreme western cape of Alexander I Island. In approximately 71°S., 
75° W., I observed an ice cliff extending south from Charcot Island to 
the north coast of Alexander I Island. It appeared to be a connecting 
link between the two islands. I hope that the trimetrogon photo- 
graphs will further clarify this interesting matter. Over Charcot 
Island our radio altimeter indicated that the surface beneath was 900 
feet above sea level. 
On the smooth snow surface 20 miles to the south of the three small 
peaks of Charcot Island we made our second landing on this flight— 
the first persons to set foot on that much-discussed and elusive island. 
The stop was just long enough for me to take a few sights. The sun 
was due west, and I was able to obtain a good longitudinal line of 
position. The sloping terrain to the south made it easy for the lightly 
loaded plane to take off on the last leg of our return flight. When we 
were in the air again, I observed much open water to the west and 
north of Charcot Island. It would have been possible but difficult 
for a ship to force its way to the island. To the east I saw many sea 
leads, though huge tabular bergs were still frozen in the sea’s icy grip. 
As we flew over the north end of Alexander I Island to cross the 
10,000-foot Dougias Range, the sun still shone brightly in all directions 
except the east, the direction of our flight, where there was a heavy 
overcast. At the same time Kelsey at the main base gave us the 
first of a series of warnings on the sudden and rapid approach of bad 
weather. We crossed the island in 69°30’ S., by following a deep and 
wide valley for 40 miles. Tufts Valley, as I named it, contained a 
crevassed glacier that terminated on the Marguerite Bay side of the 
island. A 20-mile-long glacier, Nichols Glacier, is a northern branch 
or tributary. By the time we reached the entrance to George VI 
Sound we were flying in overcast. Lassiter descended below the 
heaviest cloud formations to an altitude of 3,000 feet, and we managed 
to continue northward. At Red Rock Ridge, 10 miles from the base, 
the weather had completely closed in around us. Fortunately, 
Lassiter was familiar with the terrain, and he guided the plane around 
the barely visible outlines of the high cliffs. At 200 feet we skimmed 
over icebergs floating in the open water off the ridge. Once a sudden 
downdraft caught the plane and forced it violently within 50 feet of 
the icy water beneath. Lassiter maintained his usual steady control, 
and a few minutes later we landed safely on the bay ice in Neny Fiord, 
4 miles from base. The weasel, summoned by radio before landing, 
helped to bring the plane to its mooring. Gusts of wind of as much as 
70 miles an hour made taxiing the plane extremely difficult. However, 
with two men riding on each wing to break the wind stream, we man- 
aged to get the Beechcraft moored in its usual position. I know of 
three men who were mighty happy to be on the ground that night! 
