A Ruthless Revelation
By the beginning of May 1911, the Norwegian Antarctic Expedition’s home base camp Framheim was completely covered in snow, so that it looked like a house buried in a snowfield, with its roof beneath one’s boots, lying at ground level. As the month progressed, a maze of rooms were dug out underneath the snow, their large dimensions making them spacious, their entrances connected by tunnels. In these rooms, the men worked, improving their sledding equipment, sewing their trekking clothes, strengthening their dog harnesses, and packing their food, supplies, and provisions for the spring trek to the South Pole (Amundsen Expedition Diary). The house was surrounded by 12 large tents erected around its perimeter – 7 for the dog teams, 1 for the puppies, 1 for the seal meat, 1 for the dried fish, 1 for equipment, and 1 for the coal (Hassel 2011).
April had ended with a scare. Mylius, one of the lead dogs on Helmer Hanssen’s sled, had gone missing on April 26. In the newly fallen, constant darkness of winter, it was a small chance that he would return, especially given the numerous crevasses around the camp that could swallow a dog instantaneously. But, to everyone’s delight, the lead dog returned 4 days later, on April 30, having probably rescued himself from the depth of a crevasse. Roald Amundsen was beside himself with happiness, as this was one of the strongest and smartest sled dogs and one of the dogs whom Amundsen particularly appreciated (Amundsen expedition diary). “Great happiness!” he wrote, upon Mylius’s return. “It is a wonderful dog, that we do not want to lose.” 1 Indeed, Mylius would later prove himself in a most significant way.
And, so, April had ended with this good news.
The month of May, however, had begun with the sad shooting of two puppies, as ordered by Amundsen. They were the two smallest puppies who had been born on the Fram during its route south, and they were stunted in growth, wrote Amundsen in his diary on May 1 (Amundsen Expedition Diary). He was particularly disturbed by the way the small puppies attempted to mingle with the larger dogs in what seemed to him a very bizarre and unnatural manner and by the way that they paid the price as a result. It seems he felt it best to shoot them. According to Sverre Hassel, who wrote of the shootings in his diary on May 7, the two puppies belonged to the mother Lolla and had been the smallest and weakest of what he described as the available stock of puppies (Hassel 2011). Lolla’s puppies had been born on the ship in late October 1910, which would make them just over 6 months old at the time they were killed.
Sverre Hassel’s diary entry dated May 7 also provides an important and very revealing statement regarding the plans for the South Pole trek. According to Hassel, Amundsen had by this time already decided to slaughter most of the dogs intentionally during the trek to the South Pole. Furthermore, he had estimated that these killings would occur at 87° South lateral. There was more than enough food to enable all the dogs to reach that point, and then the mass slaughtering would begin there (Hassel 2011). This statement contradicts later statements made by Amundsen that he was forced to kill the dogs along the way for food or because they were too weak to go on. It is a very significant point to be made here that Amundsen had already predetermined the fates of the dogs, as of this date of May 7, 1911 – he intended to slaughter them once they had reached 87° South on their way to taking him to the South Pole.
With this thinking in mind, Amundsen’s diary entry made on May 8, the day that the moon returned to the sky above Framheim, is particularly tragically ironic (Amundsen expedition diary): “We all are enjoying ourselves,” he wrote. “Our dogs equally. They keep putting on weight and are now fat like Christmas pigs.” 2 Yes, Amundsen was fattening up the dogs for the South Pole trek, and for the kill, once they had brought him to a location from which he could proceed with fewer dogs. At this time, however, in this winter at Framheim, he was most concerned with the dogs’ feeding and nutrition. They must have their strength for the pulling power necessary to take him to his goal. And yet he also maintained his idiosyncratic curiosity about the dogs’ consumption and elimination habits, noting the strangeness of how, even though they could now eat to their heart’s desire, they still chased “after human excrement” and would battle for this delicacy. 3
To maintain and fortify the dogs’ nourishment, the sled dogs’ menu was now being varied. According to both Amundsen (Expedition Diary) and Hassel (2011), the dogs were fed either meat or fish on revolving days. In addition, the men alternated the days on which they were responsible for preparing and serving the meals for all the dogs. The dogs, noted Amundsen, were now eating less fat and more meat. Meat, as always, was a prime consideration for Amundsen.
The Three Best Friends of Amundsen
By now, the 100 dogs at Framheim had increased to 110 through the additional births of newborn puppies and despite the killings and deaths of some of the smaller puppies – this included the addition of Camilla’s and Bella’s newly born puppies and the forced removal of Lolla’s executed puppies.
“The dogs – the 110 units – must be sleeping well; not a sound can be heard from there,” wrote Amundsen on the quiet night of May 10, as he surveyed the surroundings of his home and the vastness of the ice that was Antarctica. 4 The only signs of human life came from the smoke emanating from the blanket of snow where the prefabricated house lay buried. Upon entering his hidden house, life greeted him via the hustle and bustle of the men who resided within, along with their raucous humor and camaraderie. It brought a certain joy of “life” to him, for, as Amundsen said, they were now “not old men [but] – children again.” 5 This was Amundsen’s true home. The Viking from Norway had never felt as at home as he did here, in his invisible house on the solid ice shelf. His dogs were very much a part of this sense of belonging – a large part, even though he gave more prominence to the men, whom he qualified as the true source of “life.” But it was the dogs who gave meaning to the men and to this expedition, for without the canines, this would not be the same journey, it would not achieve the same mission, and it would not have the same heart and the same successful result. Amundsen, giddy with happiness and full of optimistic joy, may have felt that the old men had now become children, but it was the children – the dogs – who had now become the guides, for they were the living beings who would guide these men to their goal and thus help them fulfill their mission.
“All the puppies are running and playing. They certainly do not think it’s night,” marveled Amundsen on the night of May 13, as he observed the activity around his house. 6 Meanwhile, inside the house, the men were at play, engaging in what had become a ritual game – a race to see who could get undressed first for bed, with Adolf Lindstrøm and Jørgen Stubberud being the primary contenders. Yes, the “old men” had become “children again,” playing their games inside, while the true “children” – the puppies – played their games outside.
Life at Framheim was pleasant, and soon all the men and the dogs fell into a routine – as much as anything can be routine in Antarctica. The men kept their regiments of playing, socializing, and working, while the dogs maintained their similar regiments as well. A bonding had already been established between the dogs and the men, and this “family” structure was never stronger or more apparent than during this wintertime, when the humans and the animals settled into everyday living and interacting together. Amundsen was one of those who kept to his regiment most strictly, as the discipline and structure seemed to help his body and his psyche.
Each morning, Amundsen walked to the first depot in order to obtain his exercise and to check up on the supplies and provisions stored there, as he reported in his diary. The latter reason for going, most likely, was a compulsive action to reassure himself that the provisions for the South Pole trek were still intact. The distance from Framheim to the depot was approximately 650 yards, but the way was treacherous, with gaping holes and huge hummocks that spelled danger, especially during the dark winter (Amundsen 1912, vol. 1: 344). Amundsen’s physical and mental exercise was performed on a daily basis, in the light of the moon, and in the darkness of its absence. When it was dark, he would be guided by his dogs, the “faithful trio” (Amundsen 1912, vol. 1: 345): Lasse, the black beauty, who was the only one of Amundsen’s dogs to survive the second depot tour; Fix, the avid biter, who had already bitten Lindstrøm and Hassel as well as Amundsen; and Snuppesen, the “red fox” (Amundsen 1912, vol. 1: 265), who always had her way with Amundsen. “I always have companions on these tours,” wrote Amundsen in his diary on May 16. “My 3 dogs, ‘Lasse’, ‘Fiks’ & ‘Snuppesen’ are completely dedicated to me. They hang [around] by me, like some dogs in civilization [i.e., domesticated dogs]. They always lie [down] and guard me and greet me when I show myself.” 7 Amundsen would whistle for them, and the three dogs would race to his side; he would begin to walk in the general direction of the depot, and they would immediately comprehend, flanking him from the front and sides and escorting him to his desired destination, at his own pace (Amundsen 1912, vol. 1: 345). Despite the previous negative incidents, including whipping Lasse mercilessly on the exhausting depot tour and beating Fix after having beaten his mate Maren on the ship, these dogs, as most dogs, were true to their companion, and these three showed Amundsen immense loyalty.
The regimented days described by Amundsen officially began with breakfast at 8:00 am, although most of the men first went outside and untied their dogs before settling down to their morning meal. The men’s appearance in the dogs’ tents would result in a “jubilant crying out” in unison from the dogs, who were happy to see their companions and received them with cheerful screams. 8 Amundsen himself would take his morning walk with his three dogs at this time, around 9:00 am. Following a breakfast of coffee and “fresh and indispensable ‘hot cakes’,” 9 made in the tastiest American style by Lindstrøm, the men worked from 9:00 am till 12:00 noon, had lunch from 12:00 to 2:00 pm, and worked again from 2:00 till 5:15 pm, at which time they tied up the dogs for the night, then ate dinner at 6:00 pm, and went to bed at 10:00 pm. The schedule was productive while comfortable and reassuring. “Yes – it goes more than well – these are happy days,” wrote Amundsen in his diary, offering a prayer that “they must go on and bring us forward to the goal, that we all strive to achieve.” 10
The dogs, who were a part of Amundsen’s bigger plan, kept their schedule and familiar activities on a daily basis, as well. But that did not prevent them from also dabbling in a bit of occasional thrilling misbehavior; for what was a comfortable life without some exciting risk-taking?
The “faithful trio” especially believed in this credo and practiced it as often as they could. According to Amundsen, when winter’s dawning had occasioned the freeing of the dogs during the day and with no more seals to be hunted, “the trio” decided to raid the meat tent, in which 100 seals were contained as fresh meat. It did not matter that a pile of seal steaks lay outside in the snow, available to any and all dogs at any time of the day, or that the dogs were consistently fed well daily. Fix, Lasse, and Snuppesen decided that the seal in the meat tent must taste much better than any other food – or perhaps it was the forbidden fruit and so would be that much more satisfying when consumed. Moreover, the 6-foot high wall of snow built around the tent posed no hindrance or prevention but rather increased the attraction of what lay within (Amundsen 1912, vol. 1: 264).
[Snuppesen] never engaged in this sport by herself, but always enticed out her attendant cavaliers, Fix and Lasse; these, however, were less active, and had to be content with looking on. While she jumped inside the wall – which she only succeeded in doing once or twice – they ran round yelling. As soon as we heard their howls, we knew exactly what was happening, and one of us went out, armed with a stick. It required some cunning to catch her in the act, for as soon as one approached, her cavaliers stopped howling, and she understood that something was wrong. Her red fox’s head could then be seen over the top, looking round. It need scarcely be said that she did not jump into the arms of the man with the stick, but, as a rule, he did not give up until he had caught and punished her. Fix and Lasse also had their turns; it was true they had done nothing wrong, but they might. They knew this, and watched Snuppesen’s chastisement at a distance.
Aside from the thrashings they inevitably received, which sounded serious, the dogs had carried out quite a clever coup. Similar to what Amundsen had noted, these sled dogs had the heart and humor of domesticated dogs.
The dogs’ fascination with seals continued as the men unearthed 40 frozen seals that were stored below the snow for them, which would be their food supply for the winter. The sight greatly captured the dogs’ interest, as they watched the 2-day process of completing this task (Amundsen 1912, vol. 1: 275). In addition, there were ten seal carcasses still lying in a pile outside. Amundsen claimed that leaving these seals lying out in the snow gave the dogs something constructive to do and possibly helped to reduce their propensity to “attack the meat tent.” This last comment from Amundsen’s diary was most likely aimed at Snuppesen.
Frequently during that winter, Amundsen extolled the virtues of his “trio” of dogs, Snuppesen and her two friends Fix and Lasse, seeming to quite consider them as true companions during these hibernating yet busy months of preparations. By now, the men had undertaken their roles in preparing for the sled trip and the actual trek to the Pole, and although winter was filled with rest and warmth and games, the men were quite industrious as well. During the second half of May, every man performed his crucial task. Olav Bjaaland and Jørgen Stubberud, the carpenters, assisted by Kristian Prestrud, worked on lightening the mass and weight of the sleds; Oscar Wisting and Helmer Hanssen worked on the lashings for the sleds, and Wisting sewed the reindeer skin clothes; Hjalmar Johansen carefully and fastidiously packed the sled provisions; Sverre Hassel took care of the supplies; and Adolf Lindstrøm, besides his kitchen duties, was the resident mechanic (Amundsen Expedition Diary; Amundsen 1912, vol. 1: 268–279). The newly built workrooms were carved out of the snow and connected by an underground tunnel. The men balanced their work underneath the snow, preparing for the upcoming trek, with their work above the ground, feeding, loosening, and looking after the dogs. The dogs’ feeding and care was a primary concern, especially in preparation for the approaching South Pole journey (Wisting 1930).
Bjaaland made it a point to take the opportunity to play with his dogs, walking outside to set them free or feed them and spending his free time with them. Writing about his dogs on May 17 and 28, he described how he would spend his free hour each morning in the company of his dogs (Bjaaland 2011). Johansen, too, wrote quite frequently about his dogs during the winter months, describing their movements and escapades. And Lindstrøm helped to make sure the dogs were housed properly.
One of the men’s main projects around the home camp was the building of a bathroom, as well as a steam bath, underneath the snow – both of which the men enjoyed thoroughly. These were such civilized accommodations in Antarctica. For the bathroom, Amundsen had struck on a most ingenious design, which made unique use of the dogs and allowed them to indulge in what he perceived as their penchant for excrement. In lieu of water to flush the toilet, Amundsen used the dogs to clean up the waste. He described his engineering masterpiece in his May 19 diary entry, explaining that the “W.C.” lay 6 ft. under the snow and had a case situated underneath it; a ramp was constructed that reached down from the surface ice, through the snow, and straight into the case: “Certainly we do not have water, but we have the dogs instead,” he wrote; once the excrement hit the case, “Our good animals” would know what to do with it and would save Amundsen and his men the trouble of cleaning up. 11 Sverre Hassel, in his May 21 diary entry, gave more specifics about this engineering feat, specifying that the case lay 4–1/2 ft. under the toilet seat and that the dogs had access to it via a path that ran in and down from the upper outside snow shelf, thus allowing them to efficiently perform the task of emptying the W.C. (Hassel 2011). Thus, it was that the bathroom in Antarctica was a place where human waste became food for the dogs – which the dogs seemingly ate with relish. Amundsen had devised a way for the men and dogs to do their part to the utmost, creating a complimentary synergy, like cooperative cogs in a giant wheel.
While it seems that this was a relatively healthy and happy period for both the men and the dogs, there were two dogs who, at this time, were very seriously ill. They were Mons – who had been a patient in the sick tent previously with Camilla – and Busaren (also spelled Beiseren). Both Mons and Busaren were most likely from Sverre Hassel’s team. According to Hassel (2011), who wrote of both the dogs in his May 21 diary entry, these two had not yet recovered from the severity of the autumn depot trip and suffered very weak and sore legs. Mons in particular was in very bad shape, so much so that he was not able to walk. The men did not know if he would be well enough to make the South Pole trip in the spring.
The month of May went out like a lion. The winter weather was making its presence known – the thermometer dipped to −34° Celsius, and the force and frequency of the gales increased. These were literally dark days – the men stayed inside more, as did the dogs, who preferred their tents to the outer elements, as claimed by Amundsen in his May 30 diary entry. More and more, the sled dogs were being utilized as seeing-eye dogs, guiding the men around the camp and to the depot in pitch blackness or swirling blizzard conditions. Bjaaland reported, on the same day, that walking through the camp, in the whirlwind of snow, was possible in the presence of his dogs (Amundsen Expedition Diary; Bjaaland 2011; Amundsen 1912, vol. 1: 343).
June 1 greeted the men with more darkness, making it difficult for Helmer Hanssen to sled-drive needed provisions from the first depot to Framheim. The dogs, again, were crucial in this everyday-life necessity on the Great Ice Barrier. “First[,] with the dogs’ help[,] we had to fumble ourselves along forward and set [up] a lamplight for guidance,” wrote Amundsen in his diary that day. 12 The dogs helped the men avoid falling into 12-meter to 15-meter deep holes along the way and ensured the men’s safety.
“In the morning we start [to go] with light and lantern to our dog-tent and release the animals [so they are] loose for the day,” wrote Johansen on June 4 (Johansen expedition diary). “They enjoy themselves so well in their rooms, that they only reluctantly go out.” 13
But go out they did, and work they did. Labor and life went on – in the cold and in the dark, for both the humans and the animals – including Amundsen’s “trio” of sled dogs, Lasse, Fix, and Snuppesen – at the Antarctic camp called Framheim.
Dog Chart: Births and Deaths at Framheim, April–May 1911
The sled dog population at the Norwegian Antarctic Expedition base camp Framheim increased by a net total of ten puppies from April to May of 1911. The births and deaths that resulted in this net increase are as follows:
Births at Framheim During April 1911–May 1911
Camilla had four puppies ca April 13, 1911 (one of whom was Stormogulen).
Bella had two puppies in late April 1911.
Two or more of the dogs Snuppesen, Kaisa, Jaala, Lucy, Else, Lolla, Ester, Sara, and Olava had, most likely, a combined total of ca six puppies in early May 1911.
Twelve dogs were born and were kept in April to May.
Deaths at Framheim During April 1911 to May 1911
Lolla’s two 6-month-old puppies, the smallest born on the ship, were shot by Amundsen, for being too small, on May 1, 1911.
Amundsen claims in his book that a 3-month-old puppy was eaten by Kaisa ca April 1911, but this is not reported in his or any of the other diaries and is not otherwise documented, as the puppy would have had to have been born in January, and there were no births at that time; most likely he was repeating the original conjecture that she had eaten a puppy on the ship, which later proved to be wrong, as Jakob “the cannibal” was caught as the culprit.
Two dogs were killed in April to May.
With these 12 births and 2 deaths, the net number of dogs added was 10, bringing the total number of dogs at Framheim, on May 9, 1911, to 110 dogs.
100 dogs in Antarctica as of April 11, 1911
12 born at Framheim April 11–May 9
2 killed at Framheim April 11–May 9*
= 110 dogs in Antarctica as of May 9, 1911
*In the event that there were 3 puppies killed, the births would then be 13, still bringing the net total of additional puppies to 10.
There were 110 sled dogs at Framheim, in Antarctica, as of May 9, 1911, most of whom were adults and ready to make the spring trek to the South Pole.
The wolflike Fix and the black beauty Lassesen – also known as Lasse. These two were Roald Amundsen’s favorite sled dogs and, together with the red fox-like Snuppesen, whom Amundsen also admired, made up his trio of faithful dogs who followed him and guided him in Antarctica (Photographer: unidentified/Owner: National Library of Norway)
The meat tent, which held the fresh seal meat that the men stockpiled for the dogs and for themselves. The snow wall, built as a deterrent to keep the dogs out, was no match for Snuppesen, who, cheered on by her accomplices Fix and Lasse, breached the wall to attempt to reach the seal meat and received a resounding beating from Roald Amundsen as a result (Photographer: unidentified/Owner: National Library of Norway)
Notes on Original Material and Unpublished Sources
- 1.
R. Amundsen Antarctic expedition diary, 30 April 1911, NB Ms.4° 1549
- 2.
R. Amundsen Antarctic expedition diary, 8 May 1911, NB Ms.4° 1549
- 3.
R. Amundsen Antarctic expedition diary, 8 May 1911, NB Ms.4° 1549
- 4.
R. Amundsen Antarctic expedition diary, 10 May 1911, NB Ms.4° 1549
- 5.
R. Amundsen Antarctic expedition diary, 10 May 1911, NB Ms.4° 1549
- 6.
R. Amundsen Antarctic expedition diary, 13 May 1911, NB Ms.4° 1549
- 7.
R. Amundsen Antarctic expedition diary, 16 May 1911, NB Ms.4° 1549
- 8.
R. Amundsen Antarctic expedition diary, 16 May 1911, NB Ms.4° 1549
- 9.
R. Amundsen Antarctic expedition diary, 16 May 1911, NB Ms.4° 1549
- 10.
R. Amundsen Antarctic expedition diary, 16 May 1911, NB Ms.4° 1549
- 11.
R. Amundsen Antarctic expedition diary, 19 May 1911, NB Ms.4° 1549
- 12.
R. Amundsen Antarctic expedition diary, 1 June 1911, NB Ms.4° 1549
- 13.
F.H. Johansen Antarctic expedition diary, 4 June 1911, NB Ms.4° 2775:C:3