Schwatka's Search: Sledging in the Arctic in Quest of the Franklin Records

by William H. Gilder

We marched in a south-east direction in the inlet five days, during which we travelled upon it about forty-five miles, and when we left it could still see it running in a southerly direction for about ten or fifteen miles farther. It is bottle-shaped, not more than a mile wide at its mouth, and for a considerable distance, when it gradually widens out to five or six miles, and is about twenty miles wide at its head. Nearly every night we were able to find water in some lake on the land, but had to carry it from two to four miles into camp. This duty Lieutenant Schwatka and I took upon ourselves, while the Inuits were building and preparing the igloo.

The sun was so low now that we had either sunrise or sunset during the whole time it was above the horizon. At noon it was not more than four degrees high. We were gradually moving southward, or we would have been left with nothing but this light during the daytime. In fact, several days before we left Back's River, the sun only showed his diameter above the hills along the shore, where it lazily rolled for a few minutes and left us the long twilight in which to build our igloos, which were scarely ever finished before the utter darkness came upon us. Short days, together with our heavy sleds, and dogs not more than half fed, kept us back most provokingly. The snow on the land was soft, not having got thoroughly packed as yet, while the intense cold covered its surface with minute particles of ice that impeded the sled like so much sand. In many places the river and lakes were entirely denuded of snow, and the bare ice would take the ice from our runners as if we were moving over rocks. As long as the river ice was bare this made no difference; the sled would slip along merrily, the dogs on a run, but this seldom lasted for more than half a mile, when we would again run upon snow and have all the more laborious drag as a consequence. Our usual marches at this time were from five to ten miles, instead of from ten to twenty, as on our way north.

The most unpleasant feature of winter travelling is the waiting for an igloo to be built. To those at work even this time can be made to pass pleasantly, and there is plenty that even the white men of a party can do that would keep them busy, and consequently comfortable. When travelling overland the halt is made, if possible, on some lake where a water hole may be dug. This, through average ice—that is, about six or seven feet—will take about an hour and a half, though an expert native will do it in perhaps half that time. It is a blessing to get water at this time, and a great shout goes up from the well-digger, as the delicious fluid comes bubbling up through the narrow well, that is echoed by the igloo builders and spreads throughout the camp. Then the women repair with tin dippers and cups cut from musk-ox horn, and after refreshing themselves carry a drink to their husbands. One can drink enormously at this time, especially after working; but it will be well to keep up pretty violent exercise for some time afterward, as filling the stomach with such a quantity of ice-cold water will soon produce a shiver.

Another task that the white men can interest themselves in is the unloading of the sled and beating the snow and ice out of the fur bed-clothing. The Esquimaux do not use sleeping bags for themselves, but instead have a blanket which they spread over them, while under them are several skins, not only to keep the body away from the snow, but also to prevent the body from thawing the snow couch and thus making a hole that would soon wet the skins. While on the march the skins for the bed are usually spread over the top of the loaded sledge, and then the whole is securely lashed down with seal-skin thongs. It is the invariable custom to turn the fur-side of the skins up, because it is easy enough to beat the snow from the hair, while it might thaw and make the skin-side wet. You often, therefore, find that water has fallen upon the skin that makes your bed, and formed a great patch of ice, which has to be beaten off with a wooden club.

Until experience has taught you it makes you shudder to think that soon your naked body is to rest upon the place where now you see that patch of ice. But continued pounding will remove every vestige of it without disturbing the fur, if the weather is sufficiently cold. Therefore exposure is the best treatment for bedding, though it certainly gives the skins a degree of cold that can scarcely be appreciated until experienced. It is astonishing, however, how soon the bed becomes warm from the heat of the body. For, perhaps, from five to ten minutes you may lie there and shiver, when gradually a genial warmth begins to pervade the whole body, the shiver subsides, and you are as comfortable, as far as cold is concerned, in bed in an igloo in the Arctic, as you would be in a civilized mansion in the temperate zone.

The Esquimaux are not acquainted with the qualities of the magnetic needle, and, it is needless to say, do not travel by the compass. Like all savage tribes they have, however, methods for keeping their direction while making long voyages. These are usually made on the salt-water ice, and they follow the land; but when travelling over land, either in summer or winter, they can generally distinguish north from south, at least approximately. In summer the running vines point to the salt water, they say, which, in going around Hudson's Bay, would indicate the south. And then there are certain species of moss that are only found in the vicinity of salt water. In winter they notice the ridges of snow along the ice, or the land spots on the highlands, and can keep their course by them with surprising accuracy.

The Esquimaux, however, are not a people given to exploration. They are not curious concerning unknown territory. What they are chiefly interested in is, "what they shall eat and drink, and wherewithal they shall be clothed." Certain districts within their knowledge furnish the different kinds of game, and these they visit at the accustomed seasons. Occasionally they will visit neighboring tribes, and sometimes settle down in the new country, depending upon their skill in the chase for the support of their families. But this country, new to them, is well known to those whom they visit, and they have the benefit of competent guides until such time as they are sufficiently acquainted with the country themselves. Though they are constantly moving in summer and winter, their journeys are seldom extended. They will sometimes go from the mouth of Chesterfield Inlet to the Wager River or Repulse Bay, and occasionally to the tribes at the north part of Melville Peninsula, but generally spend one year at least at some intermediate point. The tribes they pass through on these journeys are so connected by marriage as to be almost like one large tribe, so that they are all the time in the land of their friends.

Twice since leaving the Inuit camp in Wilmot Bay the dogs had an interval of eight days between meals, and were in no condition for hard work. That they could live and do any work at all seemed marvellous. I am constrained to believe that the Esquimau dog will do more work, and with less food, than any other draught animal existing. On the night of the 20th Lieutenant Schwatka observed a meridian culmination of the moon, which showed in latitude 67 deg. 32 min. 42 sec. north, only three miles from our reckoning. It is a difficult task to make astronomical observations with a sextant in a temperature thirty-eight degrees below zero, or seventy below the freezing-point, as it was this night. It is not pleasant to sit still for any length of time in such weather. A thin skim of ice over the surface of the kerosene oil used for an artificial horizon has to be constantly removed by the warm breath of an assistant. The sextant glasses become obscure from the freezing upon them of the breath of the observer, and can only be cleaned with the warm fingers, which they blister in return for such kindness. These are some of the obstacles to determining one's position astronomically in an Arctic winter; while in summer, there being no night, one is dependent upon the sun alone. The mean temperature for November was -23.3 degrees and the lowest noted -49 degrees.

We ran upon a narrow strip of salt water, apparently an inlet from Cockburn Bay, on the 28th. We had to halt the next day for Toolooah to rest, as he was completely prostrated with the hard work of the last four days. We moved, however, on the 30th, Joe driving and Toolooah strolling along at his ease. We emerged upon Cockburn Bay soon after starting, and crossed to the southern shore by noontime, a distance of about nine miles, our rapid moving being entirely owing to the superiority of the sledging on salt-water ice.

We crossed the narrow neck of land between Cockburn Bay and the fresh-water portion of the river between the two great bends in three days' travel, and emerged about eight miles above the Dangerous Rapids on the 5th of December, where we had hoped to be by the 15th of November. Our igloos were made on the southern bank, and we were greatly surprised that we saw no sled tracks in crossing the river. We had supposed that they, with the shorter route and smooth salt-water ice nearly all the way, would have been ahead of us, and either waiting or forced to move into the reindeer country for food. Our first object, therefore, was to find the natives, who live here all the year round, as Narleyow, one of the tribe, who was with Henry, constantly assured us was the case. From these people we expected to get information concerning the other sleds, and also to get a large quantity of fish for food for man and beast. We found some fish caches near our camp, and some sled tracks and footprints about one mile and a half farther down the river, which Joe said led a long distance. The day after our arrival we appropriated one large cache to feed our starving dogs, and then started the next day for their camp to pay for the fish and buy more. But shortly after all the men started, one of the women ran out and called us back, saying that Inuits were coming to the igloo. We hastened back and found three young men of the Ooqueesiksillik tribe, who had found their cache robbed and traced the tracks to our igloo. Joe explained the case to them, and said we had knives to pay for the fish and to buy more, which they said would be gladly accepted, and they would tell their people to bring us more fish that night. We were astonished when they said they had neither seen nor heard of any others of our party.