Cold—must put on second suit of underwear. Very gloomy, but storm abated. No land in sight—above Cape Lombard all is flat. It rains in that direction. We meander among the floes, now and then bumping and shivering. Should a wind come up and blow the ice landward we would be in danger of being closed in and stopped or delayed.
Evening. Arrive off Wainwright. Village recent—older site 20 miles away. People the usual type of Eskimo. Visit the village, but soon return.
After supper the boat stops—fear the ice. Another passenger is added here, Jim Allen, the local trader, with a bagful of white fox skins and a bear skin. Conditions becoming a bit crowded.
Sunday, August 1. No movement to-day. They are apprehensive of the ice, and so we stay here, the one place of all where there is nothing for me to do. Of course there are the natives, but with the constant uncertainty as to when we shall start and a lack of facilities I can not do much with them.
The weather is quiet but still cloudy, though the sun may possibly peep out. Ice seen in the offing. Would be more interesting to be in it, as yesterday. The bear has been skinned, cut up, and we shall try some of its flesh at noon. Rest of day quiet but still mostly cloudy, though occasionally a little of pale, lukewarm sun. At 3.30 give lecture to the officers and fellow passengers on the subject of evolution. Seems quite appreciated. Reading, writing, and walking the deck fills the time. Ate a little of the bear meat—somewhat tough, otherwise not much different from reindeer or even beef. If better prepared (especially roasted on coals) would be quite palatable.
Yesterday there were several flurries of snow, none to-day, but air cold enough to make a long stay outside disagreeable.
Toward evening Captain announces that he is going to try to reach Barrow, about 80 miles northeastward, and soon after supper we start. He also tells me we may be there at or not long after midnight and so to be ready, for the boat will be unable to stop more than an hour or two. As the only place where a few skulls and bones may be found is about 1½ miles outside of the village and it takes a good 30 minutes to make a mile over the tundras, I shall have to rush once more. But I am promised a man to help me.
August 2. With clothes on, and anticipation, slept poorly. Ship stopped about 1 a. m. and I imagined we were off Barrow. But on rising find that we have gone on and then backward again, encountering ever more ice. It is cold and foggy outside, and cloudy and gloomy. We now meander among the big floes, now and then bump into one until the whole ship heaves and shivers, and occasionally the siren, stop for a while to diminish the shock. We are now on way back to Wainwright. If we only could go as far back as Point Hope, where there is so much of interest. I might have stayed over, but would surely have reproached myself for missing the remainder of the coast.
Back off Wainwright, cold, windy, sky gloomy as usual.
Late in the afternoon go with the trader to land, to visit the site of an older village, about a mile down the shore. Walk along the beach. Cold wind, raincoat stiffens. Walrus meat and blubber chunks (slabs, etc.) along the beach at several places, also a large skinned seal. Traces, as one nears the village, of worked stones, but all waterworn and no finished objects. At one place in bank, about 3 feet deep, a layer of clear blue ice about 20 inches thick—strangely pure ice, not frozen earth or even inclusion of any dirt or gravel.