Early in the morning we started after abandoning everything which we did not absolutely need, and I bent every energy to setting a record pace. In the legacy of irretrievable damage which the storm had left us was one small codicil of good. Such snow as the wind had not torn from the face of the floes was beaten and banked hard, and the snow which had fallen had been hammered into the areas of rough ice and the shattered edges of the big floes, so that they gave us little trouble. North of Storm Camp we had no occasion for snowshoes or pickaxes.
The first march of ten hours, myself in the lead with the compass, sometimes on a dog-trot, the sledges following in Indian file with drivers running beside or behind, placed us thirty miles to the good; my Eskimos said forty.
At the end of the march I was a tired man. Had raised blisters on the bottom of both my feet, and soft as I was after the days in camp, was sore in every bone with the rapid pace, which was not less than three miles an hour. My Eskimos insisted it was nearer four.
The next day the wind was blowing a half gale from west southwest (true) with a great deal of drift. But we had no time to waste in camp, when possible to travel at all.
Four and one-half hours after starting, we came upon Henson camped beside a closed lead where he had been for some twenty hours. He and his men claimed that it had closed just before I arrived. As I passed they hitched up and fell in behind my hurrying party. We travelled ten hours, then camped in very thick weather. During the march we traversed several large level old floes, which my Eskimos at once remarked, looked as if they did not move even in summer. We also crossed eleven leads during the march which however gave us no very serious trouble, a short detour one way or the other always giving us an opportunity to cross. Several berg-like pieces of ice discoloured with sand were noted during the march, my Eskimos saying that these looked as if we were near land. We travelled at a good pace again during this march, and I felt that we had covered thirty miles more. I hoped that it was more than this even.
When we started on the next march, it was clear and bright with light wind and drift, but at noon a dark bank swept over from the west and the wind increased. At the end of the march we camped beside an open lead some fifty feet wide, trending apparently northeast and southwest, but it was now so thick with the driving snow that it was not possible to determine this with certainty. Building our igloos at this camp was a disagreeable job in the violent wind and driving snow. Our pace during this march was not less than two and one-half miles per hour. Several narrow leads were crossed and after noon we travelled upon almost continuous one season ice.
At this camp our stay in camp was longer than usual owing to the continuance of the wind and snow. While here, six worn-out dogs were killed and fed to the others to save our small store of pemmican, and the skeleton condition of these dogs as shown when they were skinned, threw my men into a temporary panic, as they said that the entire pack might give out at any time and they wanted to turn back from here, but I told them I was not ready to turn back yet, and should not be until we had made at least five more marches to the north.
I quote from my Journal:
April 18th.—What contrasts this country affords. Yesterday hell, to-day comparative heaven, yet not such heaven as most would voluntarily choose. The wind died down during the night; this morning the position of the sun was fairly discernible. Started early and no serious trouble was experienced in crossing the lead as I had expected. Very rough going at first through rafters and big drifts, then very decent for the remainder of the march.
This was the first entirely calm day since leaving the big lead. Clear except for cirro strata running east and west. We crossed much one season’s ice, and some only a few days old. No old floes. Travelled ten hours. We must be close to Abruzzi’s highest now.