The True Reason for All the Dogs
Entering the tropical zone, Roald Amundsen and the crew of the Fram increased the amount of sun sails stretched across the ship to shade the now 99 dogs from the harsh sun and searing heat. The temperature was rising steadily, and the dogs were feeling it, but they persevered (Nilsen 2011). Thorough and constant scrubbings kept the ship relatively clean for the dogs and men. And, although some of the crew secretly hoped to be free of the dogs, most of the crewmembers fondly welcomed the company of their canine companions (Gjertsen 2011).
As of September 5, 1910, with all sails up and the engine in use, the expedition ship made its way toward the São Lourenço lighthouse on Madeira for the Fram’s scheduled stop at Funchal. Amundsen hoped he would arrive at this port of call on the following morning. The men were looking forward to obtaining shore leave and replacement supplies, and Amundsen was looking forward to unburdening himself of a great secret that he had been carrying.
The real reasons for this prearranged pause at the tropical island, located off the coasts of Portugal and Morocco, were for Amundsen to rendezvous with his brother Leon – who had traveled there from Norway, and to break the news to his crew and to the world about his true destination – that he was attempting a run at the South Pole. Amundsen had prepared letters and telegrams aboard the ship that he would now send back with Leon, along with final instructions about the expedition. One of those instructions was that Leon should withhold releasing the news until Amundsen had crossed the equator and thus traveled too far to be made to return – past the point of no return.
The Fram came into the harbor of Funchal, Madeira, on September 6, in exceedingly hot weather. Upon its arrival, it was paid an official visit by a doctor sent by the harbor master to ensure that the ship’s complement was in good health and that there was nothing barring the vessel from docking. The doctor, whom Amundsen described as “A little officious gentleman,” made the trip out from shore to ship in a small boat (Amundsen 1912, vol. 1: 126). He was given a rather remarkable reception. Climbing up the gangway of the ship, his head gaining more height as he ascended higher, enabling him to peer over the rails, he came face to face with many curious, intense-looking dogs peering back at him over the rail, with mouths open, and most likely tongues hanging, due to the extreme heat, and probably pausing in their panting to sniff at him in order to determine his origin. It was a canine close encounter the doctor did not wish to continue. According to Amundsen, this unexpected greeting seemed to speed things along for the captain and his crew, cutting through the normal red tape and ending in the doctor’s hasty retreat down the ladder and into the awaiting boat.
Several of the crewmembers commented in their diaries on how hot the weather was for the dogs and how the dogs bore it nobly (Gjertsen 2011; Nilsen 2011; Kutschin 2011). They endured 3 days of extreme heat on the deck of the now stationary ship. Meanwhile, Amundsen and the crew were able to take some much-needed shore leave on land, in the resort city.
During their time at Madeira, the dogs were treated to a couple of meals of fresh meat, giving them a change of pace from the dried fish and dænge that had been their consistent cuisine on the ship. The meat came from two horses that Amundsen had purchased from the island and that he had slaughtered on their behalf in a small boat next to the ship. He wrote proudly of providing this fresh meat to his dogs, in both his diary and his book (Amundsen 1912, vol. 1: 127; Amundsen Expedition Diary). Sverre Hassel, in his diary, noted that on their very first day of arrival, September 6, one horse had been rowed out to the ship, expressly for the dogs, at 4:30 pm, shot while in the rowboat, skinned, chopped, and fed to the dogs at 6:00 pm (Hassel 2011). Recall that meat meant much to Amundsen.
On September 6, during their first day in the port of Madeira, Maren gave birth. Amundsen’s red-haired female bore for the explorer four future workers – two females and two males. Martin Rønne reported the addition of four new dogs on this day, in his diary, although he did not mention the name of the mother, and he referred to the dogs and puppies – as did some of the other men – as units of measurement (Rønne 2011). Amundsen would not record these four births until much later, as he was very busy at this time preparing to make his big announcement. His hands were full – metaphorically with convincing his crew to unanimously agree to the change of plans and literally with the letters and telegrams he had written for his brother Leon to deliver to the world. The King of Norway, Professor Fridtjof Nansen, Don Pedro Christophersen, and even Captain Robert Falcon Scott all were to receive a written announcement from Amundsen making clear his intent to race to the South Pole (Amundsen [1927] 2008: 42). The wording and style of those letters varied based on their intended recipient.
Where the crew was concerned, the men believed that they had enlisted in a 5-year expedition to the North Pole. How would they react now when told the truth, wondered Amundsen? Would they go with him, or would they abandon him?
He gave them the choice. On September 9, Amundsen made his announcement to the men, on board the Fram, with great flourish. He unveiled a map of Antarctica and delivered a compelling and humble statement to the men. In his statement, he (a) targeted the South Pole as the only area that remained unexplored on earth; (b) cited the mitigating factors that had led him to conduct this voyage in secrecy; (c) stated his desire and their need “to get there before the Englishmen,” as Johansen reported (Johansen Expedition Diary); 1 (d) explained that “therefore, were all the dogs on board,” also as reported by Johansen; 2 and (e) conveyed his confidence that, with this strong Norwegian crew and these good Greenland dogs, their expedition would succeed. When he had finished making his statement, the men unanimously gave their commitment to accompany him (Amundsen 1912, vol. 1: 129–130; Amundsen Expedition Diary).
One of the convincing factors for the crew, in giving their agreement to follow Amundsen to the South Pole, was the dogs. The South Pole was the reason that all the dogs had been brought on board to travel with them, stated Johansen in his diary. Other crew members mentioned the significance of the dogs being on board (Amundsen 1912, vol. 1: 130–132; Nilsen 2011; Gjertsen 2011). The Greenland dogs would help the Norwegians reach the Pole long before Robert Falcon Scott and his ponies could.
Johansen wrote of the surprise announcement later in his diary: “A. [Amundsen] recounted, that, in reality, it was not to meet [Frederick] Cook that. .. he had traveled down to Copenhagen … [in September 1909, which coincidentally was the same time that Cook had arrived there from the North Polar region], but it was to secure 100 Greenlander dogs through the government to bring them toward the South Pole…” Regarding the big secret, reported Johansen, Amundsen “himself” was surprised that no one – especially Fridtjof Nansen – had guessed the “correct connection” or true intention of his expedition. Nansen was puzzled, but not suspicious. “N. [Nansen] has evidently mentioned his amazement over all the dogs, that we were taking, and he said to me in Bergen that he did not understand what we were doing with all the dogs on the trip this time,” Johansen recalled. This conversation with Nansen had taken place in the summer on the gunboat Fridtjof. When Johansen attempted to explain away Amundsen’s actions with the answer “Oh you know, they [the dogs] can be good [i.e., handy] to have,” both Nansen and the officers on board the ship had burst into laughter. “I received also a letter from N. [Nansen] on arrival in Madeira,” continued Johansen in his diary, “where he refers to the many dogs, but not in such a way [as to indicate] that he believes that they would possibly be taken somewhere else [other] than toward the north.” 3
The vast deception had worked thus far, and now it was time to tell the world where the Fram was truly going – its real destination. Amundsen had carefully prepared his letters and telegrams announcing his true goal to his friends, his competitors, and the world. Now, he gave these communications to his brother Leon to distribute, with the instructions that he should wait until October 1 before releasing the news or dispatching any of the correspondence. Of course, Leon would follow Amundsen’s instructions to the letter. He had come to Madeira expressly to meet his brother and would now return to Norway to disperse the information.
It would later turn out that this meeting place of Madeira would be the only stop that Amundsen would make on his long voyage from Norway to Antarctica – a brief pause during his journey from one end of the earth to the other.
In the midst of all these human machinations, negotiations, and allocutions of honesty and dishonesty, the dog community survived. Maren lay on the deck, in her small house, with her newborn puppies, her children’s survival being the primary concern for her at this time and the focus of her newly acquired maternal instinct. Her mate, the gray wolfish dog named Fix, lay close by on the bridge. Maren was one of the dogs who adored Amundsen.
As the ship slipped away from the harbor on the clear and star-filled night of September 9, the dogs made its grand exit known. They had waited patiently in the uncomfortable heat, in the uncertainty of events, and in the commotion of human correspondence and intrigue. The northeast trade wind was now blowing, and it was time to return to the cool breeze of the sea; one and all, the dogs broke out into a happy “concert” of howls. Amundsen, too, was happy with relief. He was setting sail for the long-coveted South Pole (Amundsen 1912, vol. 1: 131; Amundsen Expedition Diary).
On September 10, back at sea after having left Madeira with his crew’s unanimous agreement and exuberant excitement about the South Pole, and having carefully instructed Leon as to the release of his news and delivery of his letters, Amundsen could now turn his sights back to the sled dogs. The trade wind that had promised to freshen had not yet done so, and the dogs’ water rations were now further reduced to 2 liters a day (Amundsen Expedition Diary). On this day, Katinka – his other small red-haired dog and competitor of Maren – also bore puppies: five females and two males. Kristian Prestrud marveled as he watched her give birth on the bridge, writing about the event in his diary 2 days later, but mistakenly calling her Snuppesen (Prestrud 2011). Most likely this was due to the fact that Snuppesen, like Katinka, was of red coloring. Thorvald Nilsen revealed, through his diary entries of September 13 and September 17, that Katinka’s original name, which she had at the time of giving birth to her puppies, was Afrodite (Nilsen 2011). The original name most likely was a reference to the dog’s appearance.
Amundsen recorded both Maren’s and Katinka’s birth events in his diary on the day after Katinka gave birth – September 11, casually reporting that the seven female puppies (Maren’s two and Katinka’s five) were thrown into the sea (Amundsen Expedition Diary). This time, he accompanied his report with a quote, Women “must not [be allowed to] come on board.” 4
Amundsen’s philosophy regarding the disposing of the female puppies perhaps required that he rationalize his actions with a quote from a romantic poem he cherished – the “heroic” poem Fridthjof’s Saga, written by Esaias Tegnér, which Amundsen kept with him at sea. His personal copy of the book, which he took with him on the Fram, was autographed by him in September 1926 and later displayed at the Polar Museum in Tromsø, Norway (Amundsen Exhibition). In the handwritten dedication, Amundsen stated that the book had “followed” him throughout his voyages. 5 It must have been a constant source of inspiration and motivation. The heroism depicted in this book was a recurring theme with Amundsen. He saw himself as that type of hero. And possibly he saw the need to reaffirm his masculinity, wishing to emulate this kind of heroism, to prove his independence, and to assert the exclusivity of his male achievement. And with this quote, he justified his actions of killing the newly born female dogs – all of them, he said, were “in the sea.” 6
Conversely, Amundsen was delighted with the increase in the number of male canines among his subjects and observed their development daily, commenting in his diary about the six puppies belonging to Camilla, Maren, and Katinka. He wrote on September 15 that “Kamilla’s young ones, in particular,” were “so big and fat” that they couldn’t raise themselves up onto their hind legs. 7 Camilla’s two puppies had by now begun to see and were able to crawl along the deck, courageously venturing out into unknown territory; apparently, they were large and good-looking and became the crew’s pets, as the men would play with them and pet them on their way to work and at the end of their shift (Kutschin 2011).
The three new mothers, along with their puppies, were each provided with a crate in which to live and sleep and tend to their male pups, as described on September 12 by Hassel, who also made a point to reiterate in his diary that the females were cast into the sea – consistently put to death following their birth (Hassel 2011).
All the dogs that were chosen by Amundsen to live were important to Amundsen. He was determined to transport them to Antarctica safely. “They are some rarities, these dogs,” he wrote, expressing his and his crew’s increasing fondness for them as each day passed and proclaiming that “the love is mutual. They scream for joy when they see us.” 8
The two male puppies born to Maren in Madeira, at Funchal, that September, were named after their place of birth: Madeiro and Funcho. For reasons that will become apparent later in this account, it is the author’s conclusion that the father of these two newborn sled dogs was Fix. Both Madeiro and Funcho would make a lasting impression on Amundsen during the months to come.
The Problems of Sun, Skin, Rain, and Water
There is a sense of desperate relief heard in Amundsen’s “voice” emanating from his diary during the first half of the second month at sea – a desired hope that he just might get away with his plan, of sailing halfway across the globe, in secret, with 100 Polar dogs chained to the deck of a Polar ship, enduring the heat and passing the equator, on their way to cross the Antarctic circle. The tone of relief seems to say: no one could criticize him of not being heroic or methodical or strategic. The men had agreed to his plan. The dogs seemed to be persevering.
The trade wind finally arrived on September 15 and allowed the ship to travel at 7 knots. The following day, Amundsen reported that both the men and the dogs were finding relief from the sun by taking shelter underneath the shade sails, as well as enjoying a reprieve from the daytime heat during the moonlit evening with its light breeze (Amundsen Expedition Diary). Inside his ship’s cabin, the temperature was 26 ° C. He had made it a point to weigh the oldest puppies (Rønne 2011), and at 17 days of age, Camilla’s two puppies, though without defined shape, now weighed 2–1/2 kilos, reported Amundsen. Furthermore, he attested, the dogs were thoroughly enjoying their dænge made of corn flour, fat, and fish (Amundsen Expedition Diary). “They are mad about this,” he wrote. 9
Additional anecdotal reports helped Amundsen remain positive about the dogs and the mission. One receives the impression that he was cheering himself on, convincing himself that he could do this, especially with the dogs. “It goes happily forward,” he wrote on the following day of September 17. “The dogs have a remarkable appetite.” 10 They were not bothered at all by the heat, he maintained. They preferred a certain type of fish. And they were each receiving 2 liters of water each day – 1 liter of water each morning and 1 liter of water each evening (it had originally been 3 liters a day, then 2.5 liters, and now 2 liters).
The truth was that the dogs were persevering remarkably well in very difficult conditions. Gjertsen reported on September 15 that the temperature had reached 27 ° C, and that, with the sun directly hitting the shade sails above them, the dogs were extremely hot, and their breathing had become loud and fast (Gjertsen 2011).
Regarding the two dogs that Amundsen had mentioned at the beginning of September – those who would not eat – Amundsen could now report excellent progress. Their illness at one time had been so severe that they had become increasingly thin and emaciated – so much so that they had looked to be at death’s door. But with close care and attention, as of September 15, they were improving.
The first dog belonged to Johansen. The dog’s emaciated condition was so pronounced that his eyes had nearly disappeared into his head. The stricken dog looked like a corpse and so was given that name – Liket – “The Corpse.” No matter what food or treats were offered to him, Liket simply would not eat. Seeking something that the dog would ingest, Johansen discovered an unusual treatment, according to Amundsen. Johansen offered Liket his own – that is, Johansen’s – excrement. To everyone’s amazement, this was the solution. “With incredible greed it [the dog] threw itself over this splendid food and swallowed it,” wrote Amundsen. 11 After days of consuming, this fantastic meal, which seemed, to Amundsen, to purify the dog’s internal digestive system, Liket came back to life. He ate regular food with good appetite, and his eyes reappeared in his now fully-fleshed face. Gjertsen reported him as having recovered well enough to make an attempt on Camilla’s puppies, for which she gave him a sound thrashing.
The second dog belonged to Olav Bjaaland, although Amundsen does not mention Bjaaland in this diary entry of September 15 – Bjaaland would later write about this dog in late December. This second dog, too, had become extremely thin from lack of eating and lack of nutrition. He looked like a shade, a ghost, and a shadow and so was named Dødsengelen – “The Angel of Death.” He was snatched back from the jaws of his namesake, however, and was now faring better through care and patient feeding and “good treatment.” 12
There was a third dog who also faced health challenges, and this was Johansen’s dog Skalpen (“The Scalp”), also known as Skalperert, aptly named not only for his loss of fur but also for seeming to be wasting away. He had been in this malnourished condition at the time of boarding the ship. Johansen cared for him, and Nilsen – calling the dog Skelettet (“The Skeleton”) – wrote about him as doing poorly at the beginning of September but as improving by the latter part of the month (Nilsen 2011). He was one of the three most seriously affected dogs on board.
A few problems did arise, however, with some of the other dogs. By September 18, many of them had begun to have bare patches of skin on their bodies, the cause of these bald spots unknown. Hassel attributed the loss of fur to a case of mange (Hassel 2011). Amundsen had his men begin treatment for scabs but was not certain that was the correct diagnosis. Perhaps these were heat-induced symptoms, caused by the 25 ° C weather, but Amundsen did not mention that possibility. What he did mention, on September 18, was that the dogs were doing well and gaining weight (Amundsen Expedition Diary).
To remedy the skin problems, the crew separated the molting dogs from the rest, washed them using only soap and warm water, and applied a Styrax-based ointment (Hassel 2011). A few days later, on September 21, they also attempted to switch their positions, moving the dogs who had been gathered on the stern deck to the bow. They hoped for an improvement for these heat-affected dogs.
The unaffected dogs were brushed with special brushes Amundsen had brought with him. As the ship passed by the Cape Verde islands on September 19, its crew was busy brushing and grooming the 97 adult dogs to keep them as comfortable as possible. Grooming included cleaning their ears and their fur (Gjertsen 2011). The expedition members were taking care of their dogs “excellently,” wrote Amundsen on that day. 13
The closer the Fram approached to the equator, the more care the men took with the dogs. The equator would be the harshest test yet of the dogs’ ability to survive and thrive throughout this tropical passage.
The dogs were being tended to and paid great attention, emphasized Amundsen on September 21 (Amundsen Expedition Diary). “We treat them as [our] little ones. We wash and brush them,” he wrote, adding that he believed he could say with complete truthfulness that this was special treatment for the dogs, unlike anything they had ever experienced before. 14 All the men eagerly took care of their dogs, according to Amundsen, but he made special mention of Oscar Wisting, who he said showed the most attention to the dogs and gave the most effort to them. Wisting did indeed provide medical attention to the dogs and tended to their ailments, disinfecting their wounds and giving them doses of castor oil (Wisting 1930; Rønne 2011).
Preparations were also being made to let the dogs loose. Sverre Hassel, on September 17, had successfully sewn a prototype muzzle for the dogs’ mouths, which Amundsen had specially requested (Hassel 2011). The muzzle was meant to be a way of allowing the dogs to be unchained and set free about the ship without harming others. Hassel created a muzzle composed of sail canvas strips sewn together in a way that would fit over the dog’s mouth and secure the jaw from opening. He reported that Amundsen liked this sample greatly and ordered Martin Rønne to sew 100 muzzles immediately for the dogs. Rønne began work on the muzzles on September 19 (Rønne 2011). By September 21, all the men had joined in this sewing expedition (Amundsen Expedition Diary; Nilsen 2011).
Also by September 21, according to Nilsen, some of the dogs were still being named, including Sara, known for her lovely eyes and overall beauty; Uroa (whose name indicates he was perpetually in motion); Maxim Gorki (whom Johansen indicated resembled the famous author Maxim Gorky); Lurvaroff (usually known as Lurven); Adam; Eva; Bjørn; Ulv (usually known as Ulven); Ræddharen; and Grinebideren (Nilsen 2011). The latter two dogs, however, must have been renamed later, as these two names do not seem to appear elsewhere in the diaries or books.
As of September 22, with the addition of the six puppies to the 97 adult dogs, there were now precisely 103 dogs on board, all of whom, professed Amundsen, were doing well and in excellent condition (Amundsen Expedition Diary). 15
But the crewmembers reported severe overheating of the dogs and an overwhelming thirst for water; despite the oppressive heat, however, they described the dogs as faring better than expected, keeping quite clean and well-fed and actually maintaining their lively spirit rather than being depressed or defeated by the heat (Nilsen 2011; Prestrud 2011).
The men watched the dogs closely, as they continued with their own work. For, by now, having reached the doldrums, and taking advantage of the calm winds and flatness of the sea in this equatorial area, they could begin crafting and constructing the equipment that would be used during the trek south in Antarctica. The men set up their work stations on the stern deck, from where some of the dogs had been relocated. A symphony of visuals and cacophony of sounds ensued. Olav Bjaaland prepared ski and sledging equipment, Martin Rønne sewed tents, Ludvik Hansen worked on the equipment, and Jakob Nødtvedt worked at the smithy set up on deck near a family of dogs. The men welded, sewed, cobbled, and performed metalworking. And everyone was feverishly sewing muzzles (Amundsen Expedition Diary; Rønne 2011). The dogs observed this commotion and added to it with their own barking, baking under the sun sails that had been increased exponentially. Nilsen reported using any material and fabric at hand to create these shade sails for the sake of the dogs, and Rønne described the ship as now looking like a giant carnival tent on water (Nilsen 2011; Rønne 2011).
Of particular concern to Nilsen and to Amundsen was the heavy fur that the dogs were sporting in the heat and the adverse effects it had on them. An important issue had now arisen: To shave or not to shave. It will be recalled that Inspector Jens Daugaard-Jensen of the Greenland Trading Company, in his written correspondence, had pleaded with Amundsen to please shave the dogs closely so that they could remain cool in the heat of the tropics and to do this quickly so that the fur would grow back by the time they reached the North Pole. To this unsolicited advice, Amundsen had responded in the positive, saying that this was a wonderful idea and that he might try it.
He did not, however, try it. And he questioned the wisdom of those who did. Others on board trimmed the fur of their dogs so that it was very short, observed Amundsen in his diary on September 22, but, as far as he was concerned, the jury was out on this matter. He himself brushed his dogs well and allowed them to maintain their coats of fur (Amundsen Expedition Diary). In contrast, most likely Hjalmar Johansen shaved his dogs’ fur. Nilsen commented on how terrible the dogs looked who had been shaved (Nilsen 2011).
The most pressing concern was the amount of drinking water. Water was quickly becoming depleted, and the dogs’ rations had already been reduced to 2 liters per day. On September 23, in the 30 °C heat, heavy winds and rain encircled the ship. The torrents of rain were necessary “for us with all our dogs” and could provide supplementary water that was needed; and, so, Amundsen and the men took the opportunity to collect as much rain water as possible. Using the sun sails to gather the falling water, and pipes to funnel it into awaiting tanks, the crew was able to fill approximately 3 tons of water in one morning. 16 The newly collected water would last for the dogs for an additional month (Rønne 2011). While the rain provided much-needed drinking water, however, it also brought sheer misery to the dogs, who, according to Amundsen, preferred the sun’s severe heat to the rain’s precipitous moisture (Amundsen Expedition Diary). “The dogs do not like the rain.. .. They look pitiful in the rain,” he wrote, noting also that the dogs were also becoming increasingly “greedy”, so much so that, if possible, they would “eat… themselves.” 17
Johansen wrote about the lack of water being one of the major concerns on board from day one and the necessity of having enough water for “97 grown dogs and 19 men” during the lengthy amount of time in the severe heat (Johansen Expedition Diary). He described how the crew worked to collect “every rain drop that comes,” so as not to have to reduce the rationed water “consumption even further” among the men and the dogs. 18
It is obvious that the dogs’ survival was tenuous. They were hot, thirsty, and hungry, and many of them suffered skin problems leading to patches of hair loss throughout their bodies. They were tossed about violently whenever the ship experienced sea swells and were sprayed by the seawater and rain. Ironically, the rain that drenched them and caused them misery was also the rainwater they needed for drinking.
On the hottest day yet, September 25, in 36 °C temperature, the dogs experienced sheer misery, panting pitifully with their tongues extended (Rønne 2011). Prestrud photographed them as they lay panting under the sun sails on the ship’s deck, their mouths open to cool themselves and gulp down air. Their rate of breathing had increased, and the men could hear their quick puffs and snorts and groans as they attempted to deal with the heat (Nilsen 2011). Amundsen, too, recorded their difficulties in his diary, saying that the dogs were gasping to breathe in the stifling heat. Most of the men themselves were sleeping out on the deck or in the small boats, airing themselves, and relieving their bodies of all articles of clothing in order to endure the heat. Amundsen and Johansen were two of the few who slept in their respective cabins. The location of the ship at this time was just over 8º north latitude (Amundsen Expedition Diary). This is the portion of the trip about which Amundsen had expressed the most concern. He had even feared a negative attitude about this from his own men. “What was the object of taking all these dogs on board and transporting them all that long way?” he had originally feared them asking. “And if it came to that, would any of them survive the voyage round the formidable promontory?” (Amundsen 1912, vol. 1: 102). Now some of the dogs were also new mothers, and they and their newborn puppies were dealing with this extreme heat as well, which lasted for another 3 days.
Perhaps in an effort to remain buoyant, Amundsen, on September 26, wrote of his confidence that the dogs were all “fine” and attributed their good condition to his efforts, stating “but we also care well for them” (Amundsen Expedition Diary). 19 Another boost to his optimism was the fact that the ship was nearing a latitude where he hoped to encounter cooler air via the southeast trade wind. Interestingly, it was on this day that Nilsen recorded in his diary a slight mishap that Amundsen had, slipping on the deck in his wooden clogs, during a slight sea swell, and landing in dog excrement, while simultaneously being drenched by the seawater (Nilsen 2011). Indeed, the heat soon was joined by alternating breeze from the north and south, and the following 2 days became even more difficult, with the ship and its occupants negotiating steep swells from the south (Amundsen Expedition Diary). It would be a rough ride for everyone.
By September 30, things had improved somewhat; the heat had decreased slightly, the dogs were doing better, and the crew was preparing for the crossing of the equator. Amundsen himself was planning a party for his men, in celebration. But even more importantly for him, the time was approaching when his official announcement about the South Pole would be released to the world by his brother back home in Norway. Amundsen’s letters and telegrams would be received, and newspaper articles would be published. He was cognizant of the audacity of his plan, and the “great responsibility” he had taken upon himself, but had faith that, with his “comrades’ help,” he would be met with success (Amundsen Expedition Diary). “God will stand with us,” he wrote. 20 Perhaps he may have well added that the dogs, too, would stand with him.
The dogs lie panting along the deck of the Fram, under the sun sails that were stretched across the ship in order to shade the sled dogs from the searing sun. Roald Amundsen sits alongside Martin Rønne, who sews muzzles for the dogs, using the sewing machine. According to Rønne’s diary entry of September 25, 1910, the dogs, situated similarly to this tableau, were suffering greatly from the heat, in 36º Celsius temperature, and Kristian Prestrud took photos of the dogs with their mouths wide open and their tongues hanging out. This may be one of the photos that he shot that day. The ship by this time was just several degrees north of the equator and about to cross into the southern region of the globe. (Photographer: unidentified – possibly Kristian Prestrud/Owner: National Library of Norway)
Notes on Original Material and Unpublished Sources
- 1.
F.H. Johansen Antarctic expedition diary, September 27, 1910, NB Ms.4° 2775:C:2
- 2.
F.H. Johansen Antarctic expedition diary, September 27, 1910, NB Ms.4° 2775:C:2
- 3.
F.H. Johansen Antarctic expedition diary, September 27, 1910, NB Ms.4° 2775:C:2
- 4.
R. Amundsen Antarctic expedition diary, September 11, 1910, NB Ms.4° 1549
- 5.
Author’s viewing of the Roald Amundsen exhibit at the Polar Museum in Tromsø, Norway, August 20, 2012
- 6.
R. Amundsen Antarctic expedition diary, September 11, 1910, NB Ms.4° 1549
- 7.
R. Amundsen Antarctic expedition diary, September 15, 1910, NB Ms.4° 1549
- 8.
R. Amundsen Antarctic expedition diary, September 15, 1910, NB Ms.4° 1549
- 9.
R. Amundsen Antarctic expedition diary, September 16, 1910, NB Ms.4° 1549
- 10.
R. Amundsen Antarctic expedition diary, September 17, 1910, NB Ms.4° 1549
- 11.
R. Amundsen Antarctic expedition diary, September 15, 1910, NB Ms.4° 1549
- 12.
R. Amundsen Antarctic expedition diary, September 15, 1910, NB Ms.4° 1549
- 13.
R. Amundsen Antarctic expedition diary, September 19, 1910, NB Ms.4° 1549
- 14.
R. Amundsen Antarctic expedition diary, September 21, 1910, NB Ms.4° 1549
- 15.
R. Amundsen Antarctic expedition diary, September 22, 1910, NB Ms.4° 1549
- 16.
R. Amundsen Antarctic expedition diary, September 23, 1910, NB Ms.4° 1549
- 17.
R. Amundsen Antarctic expedition diary, September 23, 1910, NB Ms.4° 1549
- 18.
F.H. Johansen Antarctic expedition diary, October 6, 1910, NB Ms.4° 2775:C:2
- 19.
R. Amundsen Antarctic expedition diary, September 26, 1910, NB Ms.4° 1549
- 20.
R. Amundsen Antarctic expedition diary, September 30, 1910, NB Ms.4° 1549