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  ANNUAL 
  EEPORT 
  SMITHSONIAN 
  INSTITUTION, 
  1927 
  

  

  was 
  responsible 
  for 
  our 
  loss 
  in 
  latitude 
  and 
  the 
  exhaustion 
  of 
  the 
  

   fuel 
  necessary 
  to 
  carry 
  us 
  to 
  the 
  pole. 
  Before 
  we 
  could 
  get 
  out, 
  

   the 
  lead 
  closed 
  up, 
  and 
  it 
  required 
  25 
  days 
  at 
  hard 
  labor 
  to 
  free 
  

   one 
  of 
  our 
  imprisoned 
  planes. 
  This, 
  in 
  short, 
  was 
  the 
  history 
  of 
  

   the 
  flight 
  itself. 
  The 
  scientific 
  results, 
  from 
  an 
  expedition 
  that 
  cost 
  

   $150,000, 
  consisted 
  in 
  the 
  exploration 
  of 
  120,000 
  square 
  miles 
  of 
  

   hitherto 
  unknown 
  regions 
  and 
  the 
  taking 
  of 
  two 
  soundings 
  which 
  

   showed 
  the 
  depth 
  of 
  the 
  Polar 
  Basin 
  at 
  that 
  latitude 
  to 
  be 
  12,000 
  

   feet, 
  thus 
  precluding 
  the 
  likelihood 
  of 
  any 
  land 
  on 
  the 
  European 
  

   side 
  of 
  the 
  North 
  Pole. 
  But 
  we 
  had 
  other 
  compensations. 
  We 
  had 
  

   blazed 
  a 
  trail, 
  for 
  the 
  flight 
  had 
  shown 
  that 
  the 
  meteorological 
  con- 
  

   ditions 
  prevailing 
  over 
  the 
  Polar 
  Basin 
  offered 
  no 
  hindrance 
  to 
  its 
  

   further 
  successful 
  exploration 
  by 
  the 
  proper 
  kind 
  of 
  aircraft. 
  

  

  There 
  were 
  two 
  things 
  that 
  greatly 
  impressed 
  me 
  during 
  this 
  long 
  

   sojourn 
  near 
  the 
  pole. 
  The 
  first 
  was 
  the 
  stability 
  of 
  the 
  meteorologi- 
  

   cal 
  conditions 
  in 
  that 
  isolated 
  area 
  — 
  the 
  winds 
  blowing 
  from 
  the 
  

   same 
  direction 
  day 
  after 
  day, 
  with 
  a 
  velocity 
  just 
  sufficient 
  to 
  keep 
  

   our 
  Norwegian 
  flag 
  fully 
  extended. 
  The 
  mean 
  average 
  temperature 
  

   during 
  the 
  first 
  two 
  weeks 
  of 
  our 
  stay 
  was 
  10° 
  below 
  freezing, 
  but 
  

   on 
  June 
  2, 
  with 
  the 
  breaking 
  of 
  Arctic 
  summer, 
  the 
  fogs 
  descended 
  

   on 
  us, 
  the 
  thermometer 
  rose 
  to 
  freezing 
  and 
  did 
  not 
  vary 
  more 
  than 
  

   4° 
  during 
  all 
  the 
  rest 
  of 
  our 
  stay. 
  Although 
  the 
  sun 
  at 
  that 
  lati- 
  

   tude 
  — 
  so 
  close 
  to 
  the 
  pole 
  — 
  maintained 
  practically 
  the 
  same 
  altitude 
  

   above 
  the 
  horizon 
  during 
  the 
  entire 
  24 
  hours, 
  there 
  was 
  always 
  a 
  

   drop 
  of 
  a 
  few 
  degrees 
  during 
  the 
  night 
  period. 
  The 
  second 
  thing 
  

   that 
  strongly 
  impressed 
  me 
  was 
  the 
  manner 
  in 
  which 
  we 
  maintained 
  

   our 
  strength 
  to 
  do 
  hard 
  manual 
  labor 
  on 
  a 
  diet 
  consisting 
  of 
  only 
  

   liquid 
  food 
  — 
  the 
  equivalent 
  of 
  one 
  half-pound 
  a 
  day 
  per 
  man 
  of 
  

   nourishment 
  — 
  a 
  mug 
  of 
  weak 
  chocolate 
  morning 
  and 
  night 
  and 
  a 
  

   mug 
  of 
  pemmican 
  soup 
  at 
  noon. 
  I 
  could 
  never 
  count 
  the 
  three 
  oat 
  

   wafers 
  which 
  accompanied 
  our 
  mug 
  of 
  chocolate, 
  for, 
  although 
  

   nourishing, 
  they 
  were 
  of 
  the 
  size 
  and 
  consistency 
  of 
  the 
  wafers 
  that 
  

   accompany 
  a 
  dish 
  of 
  ice 
  cream 
  in 
  more 
  civilized 
  regions. 
  

  

  The 
  mournful 
  sound 
  of 
  the 
  wind 
  blowing 
  through 
  the 
  rigging 
  of 
  

   our 
  plane 
  during 
  our 
  enforced 
  stay 
  made 
  us 
  quick 
  to 
  seek 
  shelter 
  in 
  

   its 
  interior 
  after 
  our 
  day's 
  labor 
  of 
  clearing 
  away 
  the 
  ice. 
  Although 
  

   our 
  four-walled 
  compartment 
  was 
  of 
  metal 
  and 
  heavily 
  coated 
  with 
  

   hoarfrost, 
  it 
  shut 
  out 
  the 
  damp, 
  fog-bound 
  waste 
  in 
  which 
  we 
  were 
  

   but 
  mites 
  — 
  a 
  colorless 
  waste 
  that 
  seemed 
  to 
  reach 
  into 
  infinity. 
  The 
  

   scanty 
  heat 
  from 
  the 
  " 
  Primus," 
  together 
  with 
  that 
  given 
  out 
  by 
  our 
  

   bodies, 
  was 
  sufficient 
  to 
  raise 
  the 
  temperature 
  above 
  freezing. 
  The 
  

   hoarfrost, 
  melting, 
  dripped 
  down 
  our 
  necks 
  and 
  spattered 
  into 
  our 
  

   mugs 
  of 
  chocolate, 
  but 
  nothing 
  could 
  completely 
  dampen 
  our 
  spirits, 
  

   not 
  even 
  the 
  thought 
  of 
  Riiser-Larsen's 
  fast-diminishing 
  stock 
  of 
  

   black 
  chewing 
  tobacco, 
  which 
  we 
  were 
  now 
  smoking 
  ; 
  for 
  was 
  not 
  the 
  

  

  