This trip that Hanssen and I took to the south was made entirely at random, as we saw absolutely nothing; our object was to make tracks for the following day’s journey.  The language we used about the glacier as we went was not altogether complimentary; we had endless tacking and turning to get on.  To go one yard forward, I am sure we had to go at least ten to one side.  Can anyone be surprised that we called it the Devil’s Glacier?  At any rate, our companions acknowledged the justness of the name with ringing acclamations when we told them of it.

At Hell’s Gate Hanssen and I halted.  This was a very remarkable formation; the glacier had here formed a long ridge about 20 feet high; then, in the middle of this ridge, a fissure had opened, making a gateway about 6 feet wide.  This formation —­ like every —­ thing else on the glacier-was obviously very old, and for the most part filled with snow.  From this point the glacier, as far as our view extended to the south, looked better and better; we therefore turned round and followed our tracks in the comforting conviction that we should manage to get on.

Our companions were no less pleased with the news we brought of our prospects.  Our altitude that evening was 8,650 feet above the sea —­ that is to say, at the foot of the glacier we had reached an altitude of 8,450 feet, or a drop from the Butcher’s of 2,570 feet.  We now knew very well that we should have this ascent to make again, perhaps even more; and this idea did not arouse any particular enthusiasm.  In my diary I see that I conclude the day with the following words “What will the next surprise be, I wonder?”

It was, in fact, an extraordinary journey that we were undertaking, through new regions, new mountains, glaciers, and so on, without being able to see.  That we were prepared for surprises was perhaps quite natural.  What I liked least about this feeling one’s way forward in the dark was that it would be difficult —­ very difficult indeed —­ to recognize the ground again on the way back.  But with this glacier lying straight across our line of route, and with the numerous beacons we had erected, we reassured ourselves on this score.  It would take a good deal to make us miss them on the return.  The point for us, of course, was to find our descent on to the Barrier again —­ a mistake there might be serious enough.  And it will appear later in this narrative that my fear of our not being able to recognize the way was not entirely groundless.  The beacons we had put up came to our aid, and for our final success we owe a deep debt of gratitude to our prudence and thoughtfulness in adopting this expedient.

Next morning, November 29, brought considerably clearer weather, and allowed us a very good survey of our position.  We could now see that the two mountain ranges uniting in 86deg.  S. were continued in a mighty chain running to the south-east, with summits from 10,000 to 15,000 feet.  Mount Thorvald Nilsen was the most southerly we could see from this point.  Mounts Hanssen, Wisting, Bjaaland, and Hassel formed, as we had thought the day before, a group by themselves, and lay separated from the main range.