On August 9, after a summer of successful research, the conditions being favourable, Captain Sverdrup decided to push westward with the Fram. “Through the ice-free sound all went well,” he writes; “but farther out, east of the rocks, we entered the ice, and lay there ramming the whole day long. Whenever we got a chance we forged on full speed ahead; and when perforce we came to a standstill, we backed to get an impetus, and gave another ram.” Skirting the coast, the Fram pushed her difficult course to within about a mile and a half from North Devon, where on September 3, 1900, the ship was made ready for her third winter in the Arctic. On the 15th, a storm disrupted the pack, and quick action on the part of officers and men was required to prepare the Fram for the opening of the ice which suddenly released her. As quickly as possible she was bearing toward Cardigan Strait, and steered through in easy waters, finally anchoring in the good winter harbour of Gaasefjord. The land in the vicinity of this harbour was rich in game, fauna, and interesting fossils.
Captain Sverdrup describes a curious experience while out hunting. In a small valley he discovered countless hare-tracks, which crossed and recrossed one another in every direction, the snow in places having been trodden in hard runs. Calling his telescope to his aid, he made out what he had mistaken for a group of white stones a short distance off, to be a group of Arctic hares, thirty-one in number, evidently at rest, with one plainly acting as sentinel.
Although Sverdrup approached with great caution, the hare on guard suddenly took alarm and, starting up, ran wildly round her flock, striking her hind legs on the ground till it fairly resounded, then setting off at a brisk pace over the ridge of a hill, the others following in a long line and presently disappearing.
At a short distance two others, evidently not belonging to the other lot, remained by themselves. “I thought,” writes Sverdrup, “it would be interesting to go across to them if possible, and see what they were about, but realized I must make use of other tactics if I would approach near them. This, I thought, was a fitting moment to impersonate a reindeer, or some other kind of big game, and I made a valiant attempt to simulate their grazing movements backwards and forwards on the sward.... My tactics were so successful that, in the end, I was not much more than two or three yards away from them. It was quite touching to see these great innocent Arctic hares sitting only a few paces off, quietly gnawing roots. The only notice they vouchsafed me was an occasional sniff in my direction....
“I stayed long fraternizing with the hares down on the grass, and at last we did not mind each other in the very least. They went on with their occupations quite unconcernedly; I with mine. I felt something like Adam in Paradise before Eve came, and all that about the serpent happened.”
Hunting expeditions and autumnal sledge journeys at an end, the winter set in with plenty of work to do for every one on board the Fram. The smithy was called upon for endless labour; the taking of observations and the many other daily occupations caused the long Arctic night to pass with less monotony and depression. A visitation from wolves added excitement to the winter, and various methods were tried for their capture.
Cape Flora in early July, 1904
Courtesy of Doubleday, Page and Co.
