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  ANNUAL 
  REPORT 
  SMITHSONIAN 
  INSTITUTION, 
  1927 
  

  

  the 
  stories 
  of 
  the 
  sufferings 
  and 
  hardships 
  of 
  these 
  early 
  travelers, 
  

   they 
  seemed 
  like 
  chapters 
  taken 
  from 
  the 
  Old 
  Testament. 
  " 
  To 
  seek, 
  

   to 
  strive, 
  to 
  find, 
  and 
  not 
  to 
  yield 
  " 
  had 
  been 
  their 
  motto, 
  and 
  it 
  was 
  

   to 
  them 
  — 
  " 
  the 
  trail 
  breakers 
  " 
  — 
  that 
  Norway, 
  America, 
  and 
  Italy 
  

   paid 
  silent 
  tribute 
  as 
  they 
  dropped 
  their 
  respective 
  flags. 
  

  

  At 
  12.30 
  a. 
  m., 
  40 
  nautical 
  miles 
  from 
  the 
  pole, 
  a 
  radiogram 
  was 
  

   handed 
  me, 
  which 
  read, 
  " 
  Passing 
  into 
  your 
  forty-sixth 
  birthday 
  and 
  

   another 
  hemisphere, 
  we 
  send 
  you 
  our 
  heartiest 
  congratulations," 
  and 
  

   signed, 
  " 
  Your 
  friends 
  of 
  Spitzbergen." 
  My 
  health 
  was 
  drunk 
  in 
  

   cold 
  tea, 
  for 
  which 
  I 
  used 
  Amundsen's 
  South 
  Pole 
  mug 
  marked 
  

   " 
  Fram^ 
  11-12-1911." 
  But 
  as 
  the 
  time 
  goes 
  back 
  one 
  day 
  in 
  passing 
  

   from 
  one 
  hemisphere 
  to 
  another 
  "it 
  looked," 
  as 
  I 
  remarked 
  in 
  my 
  

   diary, 
  " 
  as 
  though 
  I 
  might 
  get 
  another 
  celebration 
  to-morrow." 
  

  

  "There 
  is 
  no 
  more 
  evanescent 
  quality 
  in 
  an 
  accomplished 
  fact," 
  

   says 
  Conrad, 
  "than 
  its 
  wonderfulness. 
  Solicited 
  incessantly 
  by 
  the 
  

   considerations 
  affecting 
  its 
  fears 
  and 
  desires, 
  the 
  human 
  mind 
  turns 
  

   naturally 
  away 
  from 
  the 
  marvelous 
  side 
  of 
  events." 
  And 
  it 
  was 
  in 
  

   the 
  most 
  natural 
  way 
  possible 
  that, 
  after 
  crossing 
  the 
  pole, 
  we 
  filled 
  

   our 
  mugs 
  with 
  meat 
  balls 
  immersed 
  in 
  a 
  liquid 
  of 
  hot 
  grease, 
  from 
  

   a 
  large 
  thermos 
  cask, 
  and, 
  squatting 
  down, 
  anywhere 
  out 
  of 
  the 
  way 
  

   of 
  trampling 
  feet, 
  devoured 
  the 
  first 
  and 
  only 
  hot 
  meal 
  of 
  our 
  entire 
  

   voyage 
  from 
  Spitzbergen 
  to 
  Alaska. 
  

  

  Then 
  with 
  full 
  speed 
  ahead 
  we 
  settled 
  down 
  again 
  to 
  the 
  monotony 
  

   of 
  routine, 
  steering 
  southward 
  instead 
  of 
  north, 
  with 
  the 
  sun 
  com- 
  

   pass 
  settled 
  for 
  Point 
  Barrow, 
  Alaska, 
  1,500 
  miles 
  away. 
  Ahead 
  lay 
  

   the 
  world's 
  biggest 
  unexplored 
  area. 
  What 
  would 
  it 
  reveal 
  — 
  a 
  lost 
  

   continent, 
  islands, 
  or 
  what? 
  Could 
  we 
  cross 
  safely 
  so 
  as 
  to 
  tell 
  the 
  

   world 
  what 
  we 
  had 
  seen? 
  Although 
  we 
  were 
  weary 
  from 
  lack 
  of 
  

   sleep, 
  these 
  questions 
  animated 
  every 
  man 
  aboard 
  to 
  a 
  state 
  of 
  

   constant 
  watchfulness 
  and 
  expectancy. 
  Hour 
  after 
  hour 
  passed, 
  

   but 
  there 
  was 
  only 
  the 
  same 
  glittering 
  surface, 
  rifted 
  by 
  wind 
  and 
  

   tide 
  into 
  cracks 
  and 
  leads 
  of 
  open 
  water, 
  here, 
  as 
  before, 
  crossing 
  our 
  

   route 
  in 
  a 
  west-east 
  direction. 
  We 
  reached 
  the 
  " 
  Ice 
  Pole 
  " 
  at 
  7 
  a. 
  m., 
  

   five 
  and 
  a 
  half 
  hours 
  later. 
  This 
  " 
  Ice 
  Pole," 
  so 
  called 
  because 
  it 
  is 
  

   the 
  center 
  of 
  the 
  Arctic 
  ice 
  mass 
  and 
  therefore 
  the 
  most 
  inaccessible 
  

   spot 
  in 
  the 
  Arctic 
  regions, 
  lies 
  in 
  latitude 
  86° 
  N. 
  and 
  longitude 
  157° 
  

   W. 
  It 
  had 
  now 
  been 
  reached, 
  but 
  the 
  16 
  men 
  that 
  looked 
  down 
  upon 
  

   the 
  chaos 
  of 
  broken 
  ice 
  fields 
  and 
  pressure 
  ridges 
  of 
  ice 
  blocks, 
  up- 
  

   turned 
  as 
  if 
  giants 
  had 
  waged 
  war 
  with 
  the 
  polar 
  ice, 
  agreed 
  that 
  

   it 
  would 
  remain 
  inaccessible 
  except 
  to 
  aircraft. 
  At 
  latitude 
  86° 
  we 
  

   had 
  covered 
  one-half 
  the 
  distance 
  between 
  King's 
  Bay 
  and 
  Point 
  

   Barrow. 
  Of 
  the 
  7 
  tons 
  of 
  fuel 
  the 
  Norge 
  carried, 
  only 
  about 
  2 
  tons 
  

   had 
  so 
  far 
  been 
  consumed. 
  

  

  Here 
  we 
  picked 
  up 
  the 
  first 
  sign 
  of 
  life 
  since 
  leaving 
  83i/^° 
  (almost 
  

   700 
  miles) 
  — 
  one 
  lone 
  polar-bear 
  track. 
  What 
  a 
  mockery 
  to 
  our 
  

  

  