I quote from my Journal:

July 6th.—Another day of hell, except that there has been too much water to comport with the orthodox understanding of the place.

About 5 P. M. yesterday, the fog and snow lightened sufficiently for a short time, to permit studying out a route to the next point to the east, among the lakes.

We then turned in for some sleep before starting, as we had already been up and awake over twelve hours. Waking at midnight, I found the fog had settled down densely but it was no longer snowing.

We ate our breakfast, then I had the men build a cairn in which was put a brief record in a bottle, and we started.

The going was fairly good, and, after wading a wide ice-foot river, we reached as we supposed the point and followed the shore of this for some time, then got mixed up among some of the glacial deposits (all the time floundering through deep slush and icy lakes), and finally made camp on a pile of moraine material abreast of our camp of the 23d.

The land we followed is a low island, snow-covered when we went out and not noticed. The real land which we can just see dimly, is unattainable, by reason of a wide, unfordable lake.

The sun shone enough at intervals at this camp to nearly complete drying the six deerskins begun at Twenty-mile Cape.

Leaving this camp in overcast weather, we reached the twelve mile tumulus, after wading stream after stream all running to the land.

From the summit of the tumulus I saw the ice ahead of us in the same condition; a gigantic potato field with a long blue lake or a rushing stream in every furrow.

Wading these constantly, we at last reached the tidal joint and followed this in comfort to a position almost abreast of our camp of the 21st. Only the base of the land was visible at any time. Everything covered with a pall of inky clouds.

While we slept at the last camp, the temperature fell below the freezing point, crusting the snow, and freezing the smaller pools of water, and the northeast wind which had been blowing ever since we left Southwest Camp, increased to a half gale, shaking our tent violently. The low canopy of inky clouds remained the same.

With all our clothing wet, and our foot-gear saturated, this was almost serious for us, and made the first half of this march extremely uncomfortable. Added to this, I felt pronouncedly off-colour on waking. The last two days of constant wading and the heaviest of snowshoeing had taken it out of me quite a bit.

Four hours after leaving camp, we were abreast of my cache, made where Koolootingwah turned back and I sent the two men with one empty sledge and all the dogs to get it. They were bothered a good deal in reaching it by the lakes and streams. We were following the only practicable road. Without it, we would not make more than half our progress. On each side of our trail was a nearly continuous deep blue lake, into the outer side of which flowed at short intervals, streams and from the inner edge of which at every available spot streams had bored a way through to the tide crack into which they poured with a rush.

After leaving the cache we travelled for four hours more. The snow was nearly all gone from the ice here now, and two or three days more of warm weather would remove it entirely. The effect of the fall in temperature was very perceptible in the lowering of the water level in all the smaller pools.

The sun shone at intervals during the march but could not make up its mind to clear, and wind, directly in our faces, continued.

It was a great comfort to start the next morning with dry foot-gear, even though it did not stay dry long.

Quite decent travelling most of the day though we had a few hours of heavy work. There were plenty of lakes and streams all about us, but keeping along the crack saved us. Anywhere else was nearly if not quite impracticable.

The bulk of the snow had already melted, and the streams were falling, but of course many of the lakes would remain till they froze the next fall.

The sun shone at intervals alternating with dense fog and snow squalls. The wind was fresh while we slept, and through the greater part of the march, but died away, about as we camped, and it became dead calm and foggy.

We camped on the outer swell of the great glacier forming Aldrich’s last “low-sloping spit.”

The more level ice-foot extending from the base of this swell to the ragged sea ice, ten to twelve miles distant, was covered with lakes and rivers.

For a half hour or so, I had some striking views of the magnificent peaks from Cape Alfred Ernest westward.

Again I quote from my Journal:

Yelverton Bay, July 10th.—Out of my new domain, and back into the known world again.

It was calm while we slept at the last camp, and the sun was warm enough through the fog and clouds, to still further dry our clothing and gear.

Got an earlier start than usual and had good going, and decent weather (calm and overcast) until 9 A. M. when we struck the river from a glacier at the head of the bay, and after deflecting for two miles along its swampy banks, were obliged to ford it, one hundred yards wide, knee deep, and running with a current that threatened to sweep us and the dogs and sledges away. Then the thick fog making it impossible to pick a course through the lakes and rivers, I camped.

Our tent here, as at the last camp was in a slushy swamp, a small spot being made a little firmer by tamping the snow first with the snowshoes, and then with our feet.

Two fine snow-capped mountains back of Alert Point are deserving of a name.

Off Milne Bay, July 11th.—Another day of watery hell, beating out in fog and driving snow, through the devil-inspired labyrinth of lakes and rivers set in a morass of knee-deep slush which fills this bay.

Nine and one-half hours of uninterrupted travel brought us out to the series of “rafters” which form the line of demarcation between the edge of the bay-ice and the pack. Here the roar of some river or lake which was pouring through a crack to the sea, filled our ears.

Whatever obstacles may be in our way now along this rafter (and God knows there will be enough of them of one kind or another) there should be no rivers to ford and such lakes as there are will in all probability be parallel to our route.

This going is as yet not quite as bad as the return from the July trip in Princess Marie Bay in 1899, but there is plenty of room for it to become a good deal worse in the miles between here and the Roosevelt.

Fifteen years ago to-day, I broke my right leg in Melville Bay.

Two played-out dogs killed and fed to the others.

Near Cape Richards, July 13th.—At last we are round the corner (Cape Fanshawe Martin) which we have been struggling toward for four days (including to-day) and which has seemed to recede as fast as we advance.

The going to-day much the same as yesterday, perhaps a little better at the end, but I got my worst wetting, a slip of my feet while pushing the sledges over a bad place, sending me into the water up to my waist. This rendered the latter part of the march somewhat uncomfortable.

But one gets used to this constant wetting (as they say one gets used to anything) and I no longer mind my saturated clothing.

I wring it out when I turn in, and give it another twist when I turn out. It has reminded me of my Nicaraguan experiences, but the temperature of both air and water is somewhat different here.

The sun shone a little at the last camp and during perhaps half of this march, but we have faced throughout the march, a strong and searching northeast wind with the temperature below the freezing point.

The glacier west of Cape Fanshawe Martin is an active one; its face ten feet to forty feet high. A detached “floeberg” which I estimated to be one and one-quarter miles long, and one-half mile wide, lies frozen in a hundred yards or so off its face. The face of this “floeberg” would average twenty feet to twenty-eight feet above the water. Two Arctic terns flew over us while we were coming round the Cape.

McClintock Bay, July 14th.—The wind blew continuously and violently at the last camp, and the sun shone occasionally and was shining when we started.

I thought I would try the inside route, i. e. along the tidal crack well into the bay, but an hour’s travelling along the glacier face, brought us to a position where I could overlook the bay, and I saw at once that it was entirely impracticable. The surface of the bay was completely covered with large connecting lakes and wide streams.

The route along the outer edge of the ice-foot was the only way, and to reach this we were obliged to retrace our steps to camp, and were then bothered by two or three lakes, and one large river which forced us well out among the floes with their waist-deep drifts, before we could get around it. In this way we lost three hours.

After this the going was better, and the course fairly direct, the slush and water averaging only about ankle deep. One other river some fifty yards wide, with a pronounced cataract, forced us again out on to the floes.

We have travelled very slowly, however, the dogs’ feet being in terrible condition from the sharp ice and constant wetting. Nearly all are fitted with boots, but still they only limp along. The gray dog was killed here, and fed to the others, together with five of the Jesup Land deerskins which there has been no chance to dry, and which are spoiling. If we don’t reach Cape Alexandra it will mean another dog, as I have no more pemmican. After the first hour to-day, continuous fog.

Disraeli Bay, July 15th.—Another hell-begotten day, or rather night. Dense fog, with the sun shining through it at times, but the land invisible, was the programme at the last camp. While we were getting ready to start, portions of the land showed up, and remained visible for about one hour.

Since then dense fog with the accompaniment during the last four hours of wet snow.

The going after the first two hours was fair over old hummocky ice from which most of the snow has melted, and on which what water there is, is in small pools. In clear weather and able to see ahead, it would be good going.

Under these circumstances, I gave up the idea of sending the two men in for the Cape Alexandra cache.

We will stick to the outer edge of the foot-ice. If we can make Columbia, and get the meat there, well and good; if not, we will keep right on to Hecla and eat dog till we get there.

Two large streams negotiated to-day. One by fording, sweeping sledges down and wetting almost everything on them, the other by bridging a fortunate cañon.

My clothes are now literally rotting from the constant wet. I have got used to the disagreeableness of the wet, but not yet to the stench of the last few days, especially when in camp, and turned in.

A seal was seen out on the ice, but he went into the water before Egingwah could get near him.

A nearly complete specimen of the same fish as I found beyond Cape Alfred Ernest was also picked up to-day, but the dogs got it all except the head.

The whole width of this big glacier from Cape Alexandra west, is composed of heavy hummocky ice, which, when broken off, will form “paleocrystic” floes.

“Nungwoodie,” the faithful gray dog, played out, and was killed here. Very sorry to have him go.

Two more days, or rather a continuous performance of this infernal weather, then one decent night, and after a long forced march which killed one dog, used up another and left us practically played out, we reached the low point of Columbia, which forms Cape Aldrich, and set up the tent on dry gravel, the first time in twelve days that it had been set up in anything except slush and water.

Looking out over the ice from the tent, I saw that where we came in, unpleasant as was the going, was the only practicable place. From where we came in, clear round the point, was a wide, deep lake.

The march of the 16th was not only uncomfortable but very disappointing. Near the close of it, the fog rose a little, and showed that instead of being abreast of Cape Albert Edward as I had expected, we were barely abreast of the west end of Ward Hunt Island. Our previous march had left us two or three hours short of Cape Alexandra, and this march had been short as to distance. Three large streams bothered us, and in crossing one of them, both my men were taken off their feet, one wet all over, the other partially, and the sledge nearly swept away, all my strength just serving to hold it till they could pull themselves out by it, and then help haul it out. The white dog was fed to the others here.

At this camp the temperature fell well below the freezing point, making us distinctly uncomfortable. When we began the next march, its effect was immediately apparent. The snow and the smaller pools were now frozen firm enough to support sledge and dogs and myself, on snowshoes; the streams were less in volume, and the fog, its supply of raw material cut off by the stoppage of evaporation, gave signs of relaxing its grip. Added to this, a considerable number of the lakes, having found an outlet, had drained off and were now mere shadows of their former selves. Matters were mending a little, though we again pitched our tent in wet snow, somewhat west of Camp Nares. The old black Sipsu dog was killed here.

Two large streams were negotiated in this march, one by a detour round where it poured into a crack, the other over a snow arch.

When we began the next march, the sun was breaking through the fog; when we were off the middle of Markham Bay, he had gained full victory, and from then on till afternoon, he beat down upon us in a blinding glare which burned my face and scorched my eyes in spite of my big-vizored cap.

It gave me the opportunity, however, to see the twin peaks of Columbia from the west and north, and they are a very striking sight.

After we had our tea, the men went over to the musk-ox meat which we had left on the outward trip. They were a little anxious as to whether the foxes had eaten it all or not.

They returned a few hours later, gorged, and with the information that the foxes had not disturbed the meat, and that there was more than what we left, Koolootingwah having killed two more musk-oxen here on his return. They also brought back a hare and one of Koolootingwah’s dogs, which had slipped his harness and remained with the meat, and was now in fine condition. All this was very gratifying. The meat allowed me to remain here two sleeps, which were absolutely necessary for my dogs; the fresh dog was a very welcome recruit, and I appreciated the hare as an agreeable change from the dog meat of the previous two days.

After a few hours’ sleep, I went over with the men and dogs and one sledge, to feed the dogs thoroughly, bring over the remainder of the meat, and from the top of the bluff examine the ice eastward, to see what our route must be to Hecla.

Coming back over the bluffs, to our camp the orography of the glacial fringe both east and west was very strongly brought out by the streams and blue lakes which filled every depression and furrow. I took some photos, but was not sanguine as to their success. Was afraid that the blue of the lakes would not show on the photos.

There was a great deal of water between Columbia and Hecla, and the only possible route for us was along the outer rafter. Even there it did not look attractive.

After returning to the tent, I strolled over the low gravel flat which forms Cape Aldrich, and gathered a few flowers. The purple flowers were nearly over, but the poppies were in full season; there were also the potentilla, which with their bright yellow flowers rising from the fine, deep-red runners or tentacles which radiate in every direction, form an even more striking bit of colour than the poppies. There was a great granite erratic on this point which I photographed.

After another sleep we resumed our march in a continuation of fine weather, and with the dogs feeling the effects of their rest and surfeit of meat. Following the snow-bank on the west side of the point to its extremity, and then straight out to the edge of the ice, we proceeded with considerable comfort, except for one large stream, draining Parr Bay and vicinity, which we had to ford.

The end of the march found us a little east of Gifford Peak. Two large streams were negotiated, one by fording, the other by a long detour round where it poured into a crack in the ice. The streams and lakes were much reduced in size to what they had been, and were steadily draining off.

The going was better than I anticipated. At this camp our supper and breakfast from the musk-ox meat, which had lain for some three weeks, was not over-attractive.

The next march again was in fine weather but the fog once more gained the ascendancy, and at the end of some five hours obliterated everything.

Watching intently for it, I at last made out faint traces of our trail of last spring from Pt. Moss northward, and pitching the tent a little beyond it, sent the two men in to the cache there with the sledge, to bring off some pemmican and biscuits. They missed their way in the fog, but eventually found the cache, and returned with the desired articles which were very acceptable. Three rivers were negotiated in this march.

The next march began in fog but ended in brilliant sunshine. In crossing Clements Markham inlet there were few lakes, the water taking the shape of the narrow but deep and widely ramifying pools of ordinary bay ice. Two considerable rivers we had to ford. We made the Cape Hecla land at the place where we left the ice-foot going out, but the ice-foot was a continuous deep lake now, and we continued on the sea ice to within about one-half mile of the Hecla camp, where open water forced us on to the crest of the ice-foot ridge, which was followed to the cache. The site of our spring camp was submerged now under several feet of water, the entire ice-foot here being a large lake. Taking a few things from the cache we kept along the crest until round into James Ross Bay, then camped on the ice, being unable to get ashore though close by it.

The next evening when we started, dense fog again covered everything, but as we had the rafter edge to follow, this did not interfere very much with our progress. At Crozier Island, I found some tins marking the site of our igloo in April 1902. Beyond here the fog lifted enough to show that the overland route across Fielden Peninsula was entirely impracticable owing to the absence of snow, and that we must go round by Joseph Henry. I rather dreaded this, for I knew what the conditions were on the east side of that savage cape.

Up to within about five miles of the point of the cape, the going was much the same as across Clements Markham Inlet, with two rivers that compelled detours. Then we had three or four miles of the heaviest going on raftered sea ice, then perhaps a mile of ice-foot. The apex of the cape was practically the same as in 1902. It required the three of us and all the dogs to each sledge to get along. As I looked back toward Hecla from the narrow ice-foot shelf at this apex, there came to me the time I first looked round it upon Hecla in April 1902, and my feelings at that time. I had been a far cry beyond since then. A short distance beyond the apex began an ice-foot lake. The tent and camp gear we backed around this along the steep slope of the talus, pitched the tent and made supper, then the men went back after more loads, then another trip for the sledges which were floated along. Another dog played out in this march and was killed.

A long and hard day. Several fossils were observed in the rocks and at the extremity of the cape, and one was secured.

The next march, in spite of every exertion, took us only to View Point. With open water and shattered ice on one side, and the entirely impracticable ice-foot lake and Cape Henry cliffs on the other, our only possible route was the crest of the stupendous and now doubly ragged and chasm-intersected ice-foot. Along this, after I had dug out a tortuous road with a pickaxe, the sledges, one at a time, were pushed, dragged, hauled, hoisted and lowered by all of us, and sometimes unloaded and backed over the roughest places.

Then the snow slopes of the shore, interrupted with patches of bare rocks, past Hamilton Fish Peak, then the sea ice less broken here, then the shore snow, and a river and strip of bare land, over which the sledges were run on pole rollers, and finally to our camp on dry gravel at View Point, the first time this side of Columbia. An arduous march, long in time but short in distance. Fortunately the finest of weather.

Cape Joseph Henry is the most satisfying perhaps of any of these northern capes, in an æsthetic sense. A striking vertical cliff dropping into deep water, there is no buffer between it and the heaviest floes which crash and grind against it incessantly, throwing up a stupendous ice-foot, and making the surroundings of the cape savage in the extreme throughout the entire year.

At the View Point camp, I told Egingwah he was to go on to the Roosevelt in the morning alone, with a letter to the Captain to send some men and dogs out to meet me; and Ooblooyah and myself, after caching one sledge and half our loads, would follow after him. Of the five dogs remaining only one could really do any work, and one was entirely useless.

Following Egingwah some two hours later, his trail was of great assistance in negotiating the cracks and pools. For perhaps three miles from camp there was such a labyrinth of these, that I feared it would take four days to reach the ship. Then the going improved, and on a direct course to Cape Richardson, we made good progress. Near the cape the ice was rotten and we kept out into the bay. Finally after wading several pools mid-thigh deep, we pitched our tent on an elevated floe about a mile west of the north end of William’s Island. Still fine weather. About eight in the evening, we heard shouts, which were answered, and a little before eleven, Marvin came in with Ahwegingwah, Teddylingwah and Sigloo. Marvin told me the Roosevelt had broken out from winter quarters at Sheridan on the 4th of July, and had squeezed down along the shore past Cape Union when she was smashed against the ice-foot just south of the cape, tearing another blade from the propeller, and breaking off her stern-post and rudder. She was now laying at Shelter River just south of Cape Union effecting repairs.

Marvin had been unable to get north from Hecla, owing to the breaking up of the ice, and working westward had carried a valuable line of soundings along the Grant Land coast as far west as Cape Fanshawe Martin.

Captain Bartlett had made cross-sections of Robeson Channel in accordance with my instructions. Marvin and the Eskimos had come over to Sheridan to wait for me. On the arrival of Egingwah they started overland to meet us.

From my tent to the shore abreast of William’s Island the going was over hummocky floes which were now a succession of hummocks and deep pools. With two inflated floats on the sledge, making a raft of it, we made nearly direct for the shore, paying no attention to pools less than hip deep. At the shore, high tide barred us with a wide strip of clear water. Search in each direction showing no practicable crossing, we resorted to the ice cake ferry-boat method, and finally gained the shore. Here we wrung out our foot-gear and each taking a back-load, started for Sheridan, leaving the sledge and other things for another trip.

This twelve mile trip was very unpleasant for me, my wet foot-gear offering little or no protection to my feet (softened by three weeks of constant soaking) from the sharp stones. I was very glad to get to the boat which had been left on the west side of the Cape Sheridan River for this purpose, and pulling along the ice-foot lake, arrived at the tent at noon, Tuesday, July 26th. Here I found that Egingwah had gone on to the ship. The two men came in a few hours later, and I turned in, glad to feel that I did not have to travel the next day. Friday morning the two men went back for the other things. In the afternoon the fine weather ceased, and it began to rain, changing to snow.

The ice-foot now was a broad, deep lake; the floe-bergs, which lined the bank during the winter, were gone except one or two, and their places taken by others; at each ebb-tide there was a good bit of open water outside them, but beyond this the pack was apparently unbroken. The shore was not attractive, strewn as it was with empty cans and refuse.

Saturday morning I started with Sigloo for the Roosevelt, lying below Cape Union.

It was very foggy, and raining a little at the time, but Sigloo was positive he knew the trail.

At the end of eight hours he was completely tangled up; and as we were only about half-way to the ship, and I did not care to be tramping all night with my feet already severely bruised and pounded by the rocks, I took a direct course back to the tent, showing Sigloo the way to the ice-foot, which he would rather follow to the Roosevelt than go back. At midnight I was back to the tent with my feet almost useless. (Sigloo reached the Roosevelt at eight the next morning.) My men had come in with the sledge and things.

The rain and snow continued. About 8 A. M. Sunday Ooblooyah and Ahwegingwah started for the Roosevelt; between twelve and one, eight Eskimos came in, in response to my message by Sigloo to the Captain, and at 7 P. M. I started again, this time with Pewahto, an older man than Sigloo, leaving Marvin with the others to build a cairn, set up a cross which he had made from sledge runners, place a record, and then come on with what things were left.

I had given my feet complete rest since my return from the previous attempt, and had fixed my foot-gear in every way I could think of, including a pair of heavy tin inner soles, but my feet were still very tender, and I dreaded the tramp, and wished it over. At 7 P. M. I started, and anxious to have it over as soon as possible, set my teeth and struck a good pace. One thing was in my favour, it was clear now and I should have to do no unnecessary travelling. At 3 A. M. Monday, July 30th, I looked down on the Roosevelt from the bluffs, and at 3:30 I climbed over her side, a boat having brought me from the shore, thus ending my western trip of fifty-eight days. Between the 23d of February and the 30th of July, I had been on board ship eight days.

My kamiks were cut through, my tin soles broken in dozens of pieces, and my feet were hot, aching, and throbbing, till the pain reached to my knees.

Within the next twelve hours Marvin and the rest of the Eskimos came in, and the western trip was ended.

The results of this trip had been particularly gratifying to me in its closing of the gap in the coast line between Aldrich’s and Sverdrup’s “Farthest,” which was the main object of the trip; in its determination of a new land to the northwest, and in its development of what, I am satisfied, when the facts in regard to it are known, will form one of the most unique and interesting features of this region to the glacialist, namely the broad glacial fringe of the Grant Land coast from Hecla westward.

The fact that the pleasure of the trip and of these results was at least temporarily considerably dampened by the extremely unpleasant features of the return journey, is only the usual occurrence in all Arctic work.