Our polar flight

by Roald Amundsen; Lincoln Ellsworth

Outside Kristiansand we received our first welcome from the air. It was the Fleet and the Army greeting us. Four Hansa-Brandenburgers circled round us once and then disappeared.

On the afternoon of July 4th we passed Færder and entered Oslo-Fjord and were met with jubilant crowds by air and by sea. At Fuglehuk we encountered one of the most affecting scenes which we had lived through all the time, the meeting between the flying-men and their wives. The companion ladder was lowered, all heads were bared, and the two women, who had borne the hardest part of the expedition, climbed on board. If I only had command of all the world’s flags I would dip them in honor, if I only had all the world’s guns I would fire them all, to give these brave women a reception worthy of an Empress, for as such I regarded them.

At eleven o’clock at night we sailed into Horten’s Quay. Any attempt to describe this would be in vain. It was like the Arabian Nights. I was happy to go ashore at Horten, for in the past I had harvested so much good there that I was deeply grateful to this place. Not one of my expeditions had ever set out without the Norwegian Navy playing a great part; this last one being indebted in an overwhelming degree. It was through the Norwegian Navy’s Air Service that this last trip was really made possible. Thanks to their liberal granting of necessary permission, thanks to their giving us clever men; thanks to them again it was possible to set off on our enterprise.

Thus came the day—the great, the unforgettable day—the 5th of July, 1925. Summer favored us in its fullest glory. Who can describe the feelings which rose within us as we of the N 25 flew in, over the flag-bedecked capital, where thousands upon thousands of people stood rejoicing? Who can describe the sights that met us as we descended to the water surrounded by thousands of boats? The reception on the quay? The triumphant procession through the streets? The reception at the Castle? And then, like a shining crown set upon the whole, their Majesties’ dinner at the Castle. All belongs to remembrance—the undying memory of the best in a lifetime.

Part II
THE AMUNDSEN-ELLSWORTH POLAR FLIGHT
By Lincoln Ellsworth

THE AMUNDSEN-ELLSWORTH POLAR FLIGHT

So long as the human ear can hark back to the breaking of waves over deep seas; so long as the human eye can follow the gleam of the Northern Lights over the silent snow fields; then so long, no doubt, will the lure of the unknown draw restless souls into those great Arctic wastes.

I sit here about to set down a brief record of our late Polar experience, and I stop to try to recall when it was that my imagination was first captured by the lure of the Arctic. I must have been very young, because I cannot now recall when first it was. Doubtless somewhere in my ancestry there was a restless wanderer with an unappeasable desire to attain the furthest north. And, not attaining it, he passed it on with other sins and virtues to torment his descendants.

The large blank spaces surrounding the North Pole have been a challenge to the daring since charts first were made. For nearly four generations that mysterious plain has been the ultimate quest of numberless adventurers.

Before this adventure of ours explorers had depended upon ships and dogs. Andrée and Wellmann planned to reach the Pole with balloons, but theirs were hardly more than plans. Andrée met with disaster soon after leaving Spitzbergen. Wellmann’s expedition never left the ground.