In the Land of White Death: An Epic Story of Survival in the Siberian Arctic by Jon Krakauer, David Roberts, Alison Anderson, Valerian Albanov Page A
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banquet. Each of us had an enormous bear steak seasoned with onions, and a hot, juicy sausage, and for dessert we had tea with the last of the dried apples. All the guests were in a very festive mood, which was bolstered by a favorable wind driving us relentlessly southward. It was almost as though all we had to do was to sit in our tent and wait, as if a postal coach were delivering us slowly but surely to our destination. Latitude 81°49.5´.
We are indeed drifting continually southward. But I have been worried by a secondary phenomenon that, for the moment, I have kept hidden from my companions. The ice is drifting to the south-southwest and clearly there are no obstacles to stop its progression. But how are we to reach the archipelago we are so impatiently waiting for! This thought brings bitter pangs of concern. How happy would I have been if our present drift had come to our aid when we were still to the north of Franz Josef Land. Now this rapid southward drift will inevitably cause us to miss land altogether and sweep us into the Barents Sea. In fact, we should have been moving along the western coast of the archipelago, between Franz Josef Land and Svalbard. Surprisingly, during the last few days, the ice has been moving in a very irregular fashion, which may be due to the tides.
The possibility still remains that the ice may come into contact with the shore, no doubt very far away. All these unanswered questions depress me greatly at times. Anyone who has been in a position to observe the immensity of Nature’s power feels intimidated by his own perceptions—as if giants were testing their strength by playing with each other on a colossal chessboard. I will try to give an example: In exploring the region to the south-southeast, we were surprised to discover ski tracks on one of the ice floes. Closer examination convinced us that we were looking at our own tracks, and that this ice floe had caught up with us as a result of a change of current. How is one supposed to proceed over this sort of ice? On the surface, one achieves no more success than a squirrel in a wheel-cage. Even our reconnaissance forays are dangerous: If one goes too far from camp, one can easily get lost.
Today we took a sounding but did not reach the bottom with a 100-fathom line. On our scouting trip we saw the fresh tracks of a female bear with two cubs, as well as the tracks of three other adult bears. Lunayev shot a seal, but before it could be retrieved, it sank. The north wind blew constantly throughout the evening, and snow fell during the night.
JUNE 2
At dawn the north wind turns into a howling gale. Screeching and wailing, it heaps up sheets of ice like playing cards, and shakes our tent with blustering violence, making it crack and strain. There is water rushing everywhere. It would be pointless to attempt to take out the kayaks. The ice driven by the storm does not seem to be encountering any obstacles to the south-southwest. The open sea must lie in that direction.
I took advantage of a few moments of relative calm to make some celestial observations and came up with 81°42.5´. We have moved seven nautical miles to the south in the last twenty-four hours. Where can we be? Surely to the west of the Franz Josef archipelago. Perhaps we are somewhere to the north of Alexandra Land. We can only hope that we are not too far west, somewhere between Franz Josef Land and Svalbard. Then we would be in a bad mess—we might miss Franz Josef Land altogether and still not reach Svalbard.
If I am not mistaken, Nansen saw land when traveling with Johansen from his winter quarters on Jackson Island toward Cape Flora. It must have been low-lying land, covered in ice and snow. It would be wonderful if we could find Nansen’s route, for then I could refer to his observations, which I had carefully noted in the diary. I know nothing of Alexandra Land; on my pitiful map, the coast is indicated only by a dotted line. Obviously, it is
We are indeed drifting continually southward. But I have been worried by a secondary phenomenon that, for the moment, I have kept hidden from my companions. The ice is drifting to the south-southwest and clearly there are no obstacles to stop its progression. But how are we to reach the archipelago we are so impatiently waiting for! This thought brings bitter pangs of concern. How happy would I have been if our present drift had come to our aid when we were still to the north of Franz Josef Land. Now this rapid southward drift will inevitably cause us to miss land altogether and sweep us into the Barents Sea. In fact, we should have been moving along the western coast of the archipelago, between Franz Josef Land and Svalbard. Surprisingly, during the last few days, the ice has been moving in a very irregular fashion, which may be due to the tides.
The possibility still remains that the ice may come into contact with the shore, no doubt very far away. All these unanswered questions depress me greatly at times. Anyone who has been in a position to observe the immensity of Nature’s power feels intimidated by his own perceptions—as if giants were testing their strength by playing with each other on a colossal chessboard. I will try to give an example: In exploring the region to the south-southeast, we were surprised to discover ski tracks on one of the ice floes. Closer examination convinced us that we were looking at our own tracks, and that this ice floe had caught up with us as a result of a change of current. How is one supposed to proceed over this sort of ice? On the surface, one achieves no more success than a squirrel in a wheel-cage. Even our reconnaissance forays are dangerous: If one goes too far from camp, one can easily get lost.
Today we took a sounding but did not reach the bottom with a 100-fathom line. On our scouting trip we saw the fresh tracks of a female bear with two cubs, as well as the tracks of three other adult bears. Lunayev shot a seal, but before it could be retrieved, it sank. The north wind blew constantly throughout the evening, and snow fell during the night.
JUNE 2
At dawn the north wind turns into a howling gale. Screeching and wailing, it heaps up sheets of ice like playing cards, and shakes our tent with blustering violence, making it crack and strain. There is water rushing everywhere. It would be pointless to attempt to take out the kayaks. The ice driven by the storm does not seem to be encountering any obstacles to the south-southwest. The open sea must lie in that direction.
I took advantage of a few moments of relative calm to make some celestial observations and came up with 81°42.5´. We have moved seven nautical miles to the south in the last twenty-four hours. Where can we be? Surely to the west of the Franz Josef archipelago. Perhaps we are somewhere to the north of Alexandra Land. We can only hope that we are not too far west, somewhere between Franz Josef Land and Svalbard. Then we would be in a bad mess—we might miss Franz Josef Land altogether and still not reach Svalbard.
If I am not mistaken, Nansen saw land when traveling with Johansen from his winter quarters on Jackson Island toward Cape Flora. It must have been low-lying land, covered in ice and snow. It would be wonderful if we could find Nansen’s route, for then I could refer to his observations, which I had carefully noted in the diary. I know nothing of Alexandra Land; on my pitiful map, the coast is indicated only by a dotted line. Obviously, it is
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