After an early lunch we started for an excursion. Strindberg, Grumberg, Arrhénius, Dr. Ekelund, two engineers, two sailors, and myself, went off in the steam launch.
The weather was superb, the sea calm, the sky a little misty; some pretty cumuli touched the summits of the mountains. We steamed round Dane’s Island, and shaped our course towards Smeerenburg.
Our little boat goes ahead full speed, and gives herself up to a mad race among floating ice-blocks which cover the surface of the bay.
The spectacle is marvellous. We are surrounded by imposing rocks, whence the snow descends in capricious veins and furrows, and whose craggy summits, gilded by a glowing sun, are set off against an azure sky of exceeding purity. These granite rocks, of grotesque and erratic shape, throw the most fantastic shadows upon the white surface of the glaciers.
The atmosphere is so transparent that it is very difficult to estimate distances merely by the eye. The mountains are from 2,000 to 3,000 feet high, and yet at first sight one would think that they are very easy to climb. I have very often been misled by this optical illusion. Sounds can be heard very clearly at a great distance.
We cross the course of the little sailing boat of Stadling, the correspondent of the Stockholm Aftonbladet, and the colombophile of the polar expedition.
He is also starting on a journey of discovery, together with two companions.
We take our course towards the east, and land on a little islet covered with moss.
Our guns bring down several eider-geese, and on setting foot ashore we came across several nests of these birds, containing three or four eggs of the size of goose eggs and of a greyish-green colour.
But our survey is soon made, and we resume our course in a south-easterly direction, where we can already see the outline of the Isle of Moffen, which is the goal of our excursion.