The weather for the week following our return to the ship was of the most disagreeable character, beginning within twenty-four hours of our arrival, with a violent southerly gale which swept up the channel with great fury, and was followed by continuous thick weather, with a pronounced rise in temperature, frequent winds and snow. I congratulated myself every day that we got in just in time. The gale combined with the prolonged thick weather and the invariable drop in the physical barometer accompanying such rises of temperature, might in our condition have proved the last straw.

I called my Eskimos together and told them they had done good work, and now they could rest till the ship started for home, and could either stay about the ship, or go in to Lake Hazen, or to Fort Conger with their families.

For myself and the others there was still work of value to be accomplished in the weeks remaining before the Roosevelt would be free, and the programme of this work shaped itself.

Captain Bartlett would take lines of soundings across Robeson Channel, Marvin would run a line of soundings as far north from Hecla as practicable. The Doctor would utilise the time collecting specimens and in making a trip to Conger and I would go west and endeavour to fill in the unknown gap in the Grant Land Coast, between Aldrich’s and Sverdrup’s “farthest.” There were just dogs enough for this programme. Forty odd out of 120 had survived the spring campaign.

The change to the ship was so great after our months of roughing it, that I found it impossible to sleep more than a few hours at a time, and I had some trouble in controlling my appetite, but compromised by eating frequently and lightly.

My feet and legs swelled in a way that might have troubled a novice, but having been through it all before, I did not give myself any worry. Henson, and particularly Clark, were a good deal disturbed by theirs.

The preparation for the western trip gave me little trouble. I had worked out the complete list of supplies, equipment, etc., while tramping mechanically along the Greenland coast, and had jotted the items down while in camp, so now I had simply to give my instructions for such and such things to be made and assembled.

I left the Roosevelt about noon of June 2d with Marvin, Murphy the ‘Bo’sun,’ Koolootingwah, Egingwah, Ooblooyah, Tungwee, “Teddy,” and Koodlooktoo, with six sledges and thirty-nine dogs. The weather was thick, warm and oppressive, and we were four and one-half hours working through soft snow, four to six inches deep, to Williams Island in Black Cliffs Bay. Here the Primus stoves, which I took on this trip as an experiment, refused to burn, and I sent Koodlooktoo back to the ship for others.

My new tent was only partially dry from its recent waterproofing, and was still sticky and ill smelling, and soiled hands and clothing, and everything that came in contact with it. I was stiff, sore, short of wind and my feet and legs swollen. Altogether it was rather a disagreeable “first night.”

Koodlooktoo returned about 3 o’clock in the morning and we got away soon after. During our stay at this camp it was cloudy and foggy but this gradually cleared away as we marched and the sun got higher. Near Cape Creswell we met the Captain and I took one of his men and his best dogs.

He told me he was intending to go back out on the trail again, if he had not received my letter. After a short stop, he continued on to the ship, and I kept on my way for six and one-half hours through soft snow, one foot to two feet thick, to the ice-foot west of View Point. I intentionally made this a short march in order to get round to night marches. A brilliant day and evening.

We left this camp soon after midnight and reached Cape Hecla in six and one-half hours across Fielden Peninsula. The snow was hard at first, then very deep. A brilliant night. This made seventeen and one-half marching hours from Cape Sheridan to Cape Hecla.

I quote from my Journal:

Point Moss, June 5th.—What with overhauling the sounding apparatus, seeing that Marvin’s outfit and supplies were complete, writing his instructions, selecting the things to go back to the ship from the cache at Hecla, and those to take with me to supplement the Point Moss cache, sending instructions to the Captain, and invoicing and putting in order what was to remain at Hecla, I got but an hour’s sleep there.

Marvin got away about 10:30 P. M., the two boys, Koodlooktoo and Itookashoo, going with him to take part of my loads out on to the level bay-ice west of Hecla.

When they returned I fitted them out with their loads for the ship, moved everything from the ice-foot well up the rock talus of the Cape, started them off and then got away with my party about an hour after midnight. Finest of weather all the time, clear and calm. There is more snow now than in March. It is firm enough to support the dogs, but the sledges sink much of the time, and a man needs snow shoes continually.

Three months to a day since I left Hecla the last time. It seems an age. Twenty years ago to-day I crossed the Arctic Circle for the first time.

We came on to Point Moss in five and one-half hours. The entire depth of Clements Markham Inlet visible. Distinctive names for the prominent mountains lying east and west south of the Inlet, would be Streaked, Camel, Saddle, Twin.

Here at Point Moss I have had eight hours’ good sleep, and for the first time in a long time have leisure after breakfast to let my breakfast settle a little before hurrying off. With no vital necessity for hurry, and with nothing to look out for but my own small party, this is very agreeable. I shall finally arrange my loads here, and when we make our next camp beyond here, I hope to feel that I am really straightened out for my trip.

Our next camp west of Point Moss was off Challenger Point. The march was made in fine weather and we encountered for the first time, what later became a constant and striking feature of the glacial fringe, the long, prairie-like swells of its surface. My wind was improving, the swelling in my legs going down and I felt that I was getting in shape again. As we came along, we kept a sharp lookout on the shore with the glasses for musk-oxen, but did not see any. Just before turning in, a dark spot under Columbia ahead of us had every appearance of being a musk-ox asleep. The snow at this camp was three feet deep.

We left the camp off Challenger Point at ten at night and headed straight for the point of Cape Columbia, studying the shore very carefully with the glasses. At last our dark object of the day before was located again, a musk-ox feeding on a little plateau, and I went away at once with Koolootingwah and two dogs and secured the animal with one shot, after taking a number of photos at short range.

From the elevation where he was, open water could be seen extending all along the edge of the ice-foot. The swells which we traversed coming from Point Moss, showed up beautifully from here as parallel swells following the main contour of the shore. When the two men came up with the sledges I found that they had utilised their time while waiting, in locating four more musk-oxen farther inland.

Examined from our elevation with the glass, we saw that there were six. We went away after these, and I secured five (one bull, two cows, one two-year-old heifer, and a two-year-old bull) with five shots. One bull had separated from the rest before we arrived, and I did not go after him.

These cows had whiter backs than the bulls, and a pronounced white spot between the horns. We skinned the animals, cut them up, fed the dogs on the refuse, and brought the meat and skins out to where I had killed the single bull. Then we had a grand feed. Numerous hare, sandpipers, snow-buntings, and bluebottle flies, also several caterpillars were seen here. We camped on the bare dry gravel near the musk-ox and found it a great relief from the blinding glare of the ice. Plenty of water nearby.

Again I quote from my Journal:

Cape Nares, June 8th.—To-day has seen the accomplishment of what I planned last fall, almost as soon as the Roosevelt reached Cape Sheridan: the building of a cairn, the display of the Stars and Stripes and the placing of my record and a piece of the flag, on the summit of Cape Columbia, the northern extremity of North America.

Caching the meat and getting the musk-ox skins stretched to dry in the sun took some time, and we did not get under way till 10:30 P. M. of the 7th, the fine weather continuing, though a fresh breeze from the west, heavy clouds over the land to the southwest and a bank of clouds to the north threatened a change.

At 12:30 this morning, I stopped the sledges at the foot of the northern twin peak of Columbia, and began the ascent with two Eskimos, leaving one to look after the dogs.

The peak is a steep conical pile of loose stones, and though only 1,800 feet high, it took us two hours to make the ascent. I am very much below par, even more than I thought, no wind and no strength. Obliged to stop every little way and rest. Arrived at the top we built a cairn about five feet high and four to five feet in diameter, with an ash pole in the centre, hoisted my flag, took some photos, placed a record and piece of the flag in a tin inside the cairn, then made the descent down a steep snow-bank, plunging rapidly and making fast time, though at the expense of my stumps.

The weather was now growing more threatening, and two or three times banks of fog had momentarily enveloped us.

We started west again and came on to Cape Nares where we camped on a patch of bare gravel near two conical mounds (similar to those on the ice-cap of Greenland) a few hundred yards out from the base of the cliffs. We found abundant water close by. The wind was now increasing, the sky entirely overcast and there was every indication of a storm.

Before midnight the wind was blowing, the snow driving in horizontal lines against the tent, which was flapping and complaining loudly.

This has continued ever since but appears to be moderating now.

About 3 A. M. of the 9th the weather moderated, but I did not care to start then and get into day-travelling again, so I sent Ooblooyah and Egingwah back to Cape Columbia to feed the dogs and bring the rest of the bull musk-ox meat up.

We slept almost continually while here and so made up for lost time. To me it was particularly acceptable. Since my return to the ship, I slept very irregularly and not a great deal, owing to the change from snowhouse and tent, to the ship; and since starting on this trip, what with getting things arranged at Cape Hecla and Point Moss, and then killing the musk-oxen, and the Eskimos running in and out all the time, eating, and drying their clothing, I had slept very little.

Here with their stomachs full, and no chance to putter with their clothes, they have stayed in the tent and slept. The wind and snow have also made the temperature of the tent low enough for comfortable sleeping.

My two men came back from Columbia at noon, the dogs were fed all they could eat, we ourselves had a generous feed of musk-ox and tea, then turned in, the indications being that the dirty weather was nearly at an end, and that by night we should have it fine again.

At 7 P. M. I woke to find it snowing and blowing again.

I made coffee and we hitched up and came on to Ward Hunt Island in a driving northerly snowstorm, through some six inches of soft snow on top of the old snow and constantly increasing in depth.

Owing to my disinclination to exert myself in going ahead on snowshoes to set the course, it was impossible to drive the dogs straight, and we came outside the island instead of inside.

Soon after camping it began to clear, and during the day while we slept, the sun shone bright and warm though the land was covered with clouds and fog, and only the nearer portions visible.

After this we had a fine travelling night, clear, cool and calm, and came on to “Rainbow Hill,” Cape Alexandra, in eight hours. The new light snow made fine snowshoeing, but was very heavy for the dogs and sledges; and this heaviness was accentuated in the series of rolling swells which are a feature of this peculiar ice-foot (?) along here. These swells are on a large scale, and reminded me very strongly of portions of the ice-cap of Greenland. If they are not huge drifts, I do not know how to account for them. Off Ward Hunt Island and especially the western end, they are particularly marked, and here they blend into drifts formed in the lee of the island.

We camped at Cape Alexandra on a patch of bare, dry gravel near what seemed to be the site of a river.

As the tent was set up, two brant flew over. A fine supper here of musk-ox steak, bacon, tea and biscuits, after which I sent two men up the valley to look for musk-ox, deer and hare. During this march a man without snowshoes would go in about knee deep.

My two men returned before noon with three hare, all small and with very long ears. It occurred to me this might be a new species or variety. The head of one was turning brown. One female contained five young, ready for delivery.

My men saw twelve hare in all. They also saw the tracks of a large bull musk-ox, made before the recent snowfall, going east, and the antlers of a deer.

A fine, warm, sunny day enabled us to dry out our clothing and gear, all wet from the recent snowfall.

Up to this time, I had not encroached upon the store of pemmican with which I left Point Moss, the captain’s small cache of four cans just making the one feed which I gave the dogs off Challenger Point, and the rest of their feeds having been from the Columbia musk-ox. When we turned out at Cape Alexandra we had rabbit stew for breakfast.

From Cape Alexandra we went on in eight and one-quarter hours, to McClintock Bay, the going heavy through the recently fallen snow, and everyone wearing snowshoes as usual. We attempted to cut across over the foreshore from Cape Alexandra to Cape Discovery, but found the grade too heavy, and the snow still deeper; and as I did not feel like breaking the trail ahead on snowshoes, we descended again, and went round it. We camped about in the middle of McClintock Bay, which looked very little as it appears on the chart. The eastern arm is a large deep inlet, running in about west to south (magnetic), and the middle western arm bends more to the west than shown.

Cape Discovery is a bold mass, with a small glacier between the two arms of the bay, and there is apparently a large glacier ahead, for the point of which we are travelling. This entire bay with its ramifications is a black-walled indentation, its shores nearly continuous cliffs, except at the head of the middle arm, and apparently at the head of the eastern arm.

Any party traversing this coast and having the time, would do well to examine these two places, and if in need of meat should certainly do so as they will be likely to find musk-ox there. The night while we marched was raw, a fresh easterly wind blowing, and everything obscured by fog and clouds until about 4 A. M. when it cleared and gave us brilliant sunlight. It looked now as if the last of the recent storm had disappeared, but one can never tell up here. Our camp here was nearer to the sea ice (the edge of which was distinctly visible) than any since leaving Cape Hecla.

I was still inclined to think that the peculiar ice and snow formations along this coast owe their existence to the wind.

At the camp off McClintock Bay a clear brilliant day with light easterly breeze, and late in the afternoon strata of fog forming and hiding the tops of the land, was followed by a foggy night for travelling, but better so than bright sun.

We marched in deep snow until the increased density of the fog made it impossible to see where we were going, then camped off the Glacier at Cape Fanshawe Martin.

Our short marches, abundant food, and my special care of myself have put me in better condition than when I left the ship; the swelling of my feet and legs has apparently ceased, and in this march I took my regular turn at breaking the trail ahead of the sledges with snowshoes. An eight-hour march and four of us gave each two hours, in one-hour spells.

A sandpiper flew over our camp, and during the march a skua gull and six brant flew over us. Just before reaching this camp, we saw a hare on the bluff, and Koolootingwah went in and got two. He reports last summer’s musk-ox tracks.

The middle point in McClintock Bay is apparently an island, and the so-called “spits” from McClintock Bay on, are true glaciers.

The formation this side of Cape Alexandra is probably the same.

In this camp we were at the west coast “corner” as it were, this Cape Fanshawe Martin being in the same latitude as Hecla, and the cape next ahead of us the same latitude as Joseph Henry, then the coast trends more rapidly to the south.

I felt that from here I ought to make Aldrich’s “Farthest” in four more marches, possibly in three.

From Cape Fanshawe Martin the snow was deeper than ever, and this combined with fog and snow squalls, made the march not particularly pleasant. We came along fairly well, however, and with any luck at all, I felt that we should make Aldrich’s “Farthest” in two more comfortable marches. I did much more than my share of breaking a trail on this march, owing to the fact that my Eskimos could not keep a straight course in the fog. The glacier which we followed along, had a pronounced tidal crack delimiting its front, and outside of this the ice was pushed up in a great rounded ridge, a terminal moraine of ice in fact. It looked very much as if getting on to a coast with a different exposure (west instead of north) was going to result in quite different general characteristics.

We were now in Yelverton Bay, the last great indentation crossed by Aldrich, and the snow about our camp was so deep and heavy, that I decided to go straight out to the edge of the ice-foot, and follow it.

This promised several advantages—first, better going as the snow is almost always deeper in the bays than outside, and the tidal overflow at the edge gives patches of good going. Second, we would have something to follow in dense fog. Third, there was the chance of coming upon a bear, and fourth, the certainty of finding water, which would economise our fuel.

After travelling some four hours about due west, and not reaching the ice-foot, I got a little irritated and made up my mind to go to it no matter how far out it was.

We were all night (8½ hours) reaching it, and then found it no true ice-foot, only an irregular line between the ice of the bay and the broken ice outside, with no tidal joint whatever. A few hundred yards out was a lead of open water, and a sounding in this gave no bottom at 155 fathoms. Two hours from camp we opened up past Cape Albert Edward, what at first appeared to be an island, but later showed as distant connected land, and, might, I thought, be the northern part of Jesup Land.

In any event whether that or a continuation of the Grant Land coast, I was now looking into the unknown.

This Yelverton Bay is full of glaciers, and one presents the usual characteristics of the Whale Sound glaciers (vertical face and crevasses).

The glacial fringe here has a distinct glacier characteristic in that its surface is undulating, and there is a gradual descent in going away from the land.

A sandpiper flew over in this march and a seal was seen while we were making the sounding.

The night, while we marched, was clear, calm and warm, a striking contrast to previous ones.

I broke the trail for five and one-half hours, and on arriving at camp felt the effects of it. I was still decidedly below par.

June 16th we were off Aldrich’s “Farthest.” It had been alternately sunny and foggy while we slept, and at the ice-foot settling down to cloudy with frequent fog banks during our march.

From our camp at the ice-foot I set a course direct for the point beyond Cape Alfred Ernest, and marched for eight and one-quarter hours. The edge of the ice was still visible, but it was because we were up above sea-level on the undulating surface of the glacial fringe.

There was water all along the edge of the ice-foot and out to the westward apparently a large area of it.

A sandpiper flew over as we were breaking camp.

A day’s march beyond Aldrich’s “Farthest,” and what I saw before me in all its splendid, sunlit savageness was mine, mine by the right of discovery, to be credited to me, and associated with my name, generations after I have ceased to be.

While we were in camp at the “Farthest,” it cleared completely, and when we turned out, there was not a cloud nor bit of fog visible anywhere.

The distant land which I had thought to be the north point of Jesup Land, showed now in the clear atmosphere to be an extension of the Grant Land coast appearing over a long glacier.

I changed our course for this most distant point and kept this course all day.

After marching four hours I made out from one of the ice swells, land still farther to the right (west). This land I saw during the march the night before, when coming out to the edge of the ice, but my Eskimos thought it was only the sun shining on large pieces of ice and as it seemed to change its shape, I was inclined after a time to agree with them. There was no question now as to its being land, and I thought it must surely be Jesup Land this time.

The going was very heavy throughout the march, and getting worse, the snow deeper than ever.

There had been no strong wind in this region since we left the ship at least, for the recent falls of snow lay just as they fell.

The surface of the glacial fringe during this march was intersected with narrow water cracks which seemed to delimit the larger swells, and I observed some hummocks and true crevasses.

Between us and the distant cape which was our objective point another long flat glacier snout could be seen pushing far out.

Two smaller glaciers abreast of our camp showed all the true glacier characteristics of seracs, crevasses, and vertical faces.

I quote from my Journal:

June 18th.—Fifteen paced miles in eight hours and forty-five minutes, including fifty minutes stops for angles. My own speed of three miles per hour (one-half mile in ten minutes), then a five minute wait for the dogs, just made things even.

My brain is numb with the incessant ‘one, two, three’ of counting my paces all day long.

The travelling continuously very heavy. I have paced the entire fifteen miles, and the men (on snowshoes as usual) have walked beside their sledges.

Without snowshoes we should not have made over half the distance, perhaps not more than five miles.

One dog played out and dragged into camp behind the sledge, three others next door to it.

We are now abreast of what looks as if it might be a musk-ox country and I must go in and reconnoitre it as soon as we have had some sleep and the weather permits. I cannot give the dogs more than the allowance of pemmican, and that is not enough for them in this heavy going.

The first half of the march was clear, following a brilliant day in camp, then clouds and fog gathered with a wind directly in our faces, and the latter part of the march was decidedly bleak and cold, in striking contrast to the previous one, when I travelled comfortably in my blanket shirt.

Almost by the time the tent was pitched, it was snowing, and is now snowing and blowing heavily from the southwest (true).

The course to-day has been for the most distant cape, and using this line as a long base, I have fixed points of the coast by intersections.

It is rather aggravating that the day on which I begin my running survey, should be worse than previous ones, but that is the Arctic way.

In to-day’s march we passed the mouth of a black precipitous-walled bay, some eight to ten miles wide at its mouth, with apparently several interior ramifications. Mine!