Secrets of Polar Travel

by Robert E. Peary

A “TUG OF WAR” AT 84° N. LAT. AND -55° F.

Note the freedom of motion and complete protection afforded by the fur rig

As a contrast to the above “approved” Arctic fur coat, take a coat such as is worn by the Eskimos of the north coast of America. To begin with, Eskimos use the skins of old male caribou only for boot soles or for floor covering in their dwellings; those for garments are taken in summer, while the hair is short, from young deer—fawns and yearlings preferably. They are scraped into the softness of chamois with stone (or iron) scrapers and sewed into clothes that fit as loosely as our summer suits. The coat is put on after the manner of a sweater and hangs loose everywhere except that its hood fits snugly around the face (over the head, in front of the ears and under the chin). The coat I am wearing this winter weighs 3½ pounds, and I have another (a trifle too light for an outer garment and intended for an undershirt) that weighs 2¾ pounds. My 3½-pound coat is actually a warmer garment than the heavy European coat described above, is soft as velvet and in good condition after six months’ wear and nine hundred miles of winter travel. I have seen complete Eskimo winter suits consisting of one pair of socks, one pair of boots, one pair of drawers, one pair of trousers, one undershirt, one coat, two pairs of mittens—all of deerskin—that weigh only 10 pounds in all and yet are warm enough to keep a man comfortable all day in such cold occupations as sitting on a snow block fishing with a hook through a hole in the ice at 40° below zero. Now that deer are getting scarcer on this part of the coast, however, the Eskimos are forced to use skins they would not have considered fit for clothing a few years ago—and still I do not think I have as yet seen a suit that would weigh as much as the combined weight of one coat and one shirt of the “approved Arctic clothing.” It goes without saying that the Leffingwell-Mikkelsen Expedition discarded their European clothing as soon as they came in contact with the superior Eskimo garments; the British Antarctic Expedition naturally had to use theirs or fall back on woolens in the unpeopled lands to which they had gone.

As to the suitability of woolens for Arctic wear: There have been few expeditions fitted out with such care in every way as was Roald Amundsen’s Gjoa Expedition, and the finest woolen coats and underwear I had ever seen were the (Danish?) garments used by them. From my own experience with a coat from that expedition which came into my hands and which I used occasionally during the winter of 1906–07 there is this to say: I suppose the Scandinavian “vadmal” coat would be as fit for service after three years as a deerskin coat is after one, but the woolen coat is double the weight of an average deerskin one and not more than half as warm. It makes a good coat in calm weather, but the wind penetrates it easily. While it forms a good emergency garment there is little doubt that any future ventures of Capt. Amundsen’s will depend chiefly upon garments of the Eskimo type. I have heard that the Gjoa had some wolfskin clothing that was quite satisfactory for winter use; this, when well made, doubtless forms a passable substitute for deerskins and is probably even warmer, pound for pound of weight.

I am fully in sympathy with Stefansson’s views, and have had the same experience and some of the same nightmare fur clothing that he speaks of so feelingly.

Stefansson’s Eskimos, however, make their entire clothing of deerskin, as do the Baffin Land tribes. My Whale Sound Eskimos, either from the greater severity of their seasons, or on account of the greater number of fur-bearing animals, or the scarcity of reindeer, use a greater variety of furs in their costume, and to my mind have evolved a better costume. Bearskin, in particular for trousers and midwinter boots, I consider far superior to deerskin, and I have used both.

After over twenty years of experience, I consider the Whale Sound Eskimo clothing in material, design, and method of wearing the ideal clothing for polar work. With very slight modifications, I have adopted it completely for my parties, and I believe that failure to use it is a deliberate waste of the energies of a party, a handicap to its work, and a danger to the members.

My personal outfit on my last journey was as follows:

A skin-tight shirt of the finest quality of thin red flannel, something like a one-piece knit bathing-suit, with a close-fitting hood. This garment covered body, arms, wrists, neck, head, and came down about three inches on the thighs. It protected me from any roughness of the fur clothing and from the unpleasant clammy sensation when occasionally, in heavy going and constant lifting on the sledges, the inside of my fur coat became temporarily moist with perspiration. The warmth of my body kept the flannel shirt always dry. Across the back, over the kidneys, a second thickness of flannel was sewed to protect the kidneys from cold and consequent overaction. There were no buttons, hooks, strings, or fastenings of any kind on this shirt. The above description is more voluminous than the garment, which would readily go into an ordinary trousers pocket.