Glói in Greenland

Forword

Here are a few chapters from the book Crossing Greenland - Survival and Exploration with J.P. Koch & Alfred Wegener by Vigfús Sigurðsson, the Greenland explorer, about the expedition he participated in to Greenland during the years 1912–1913.

Among the members of the expedition were the Danish captain J.P. Koch and the German scientist Alfred Wegener.

The selection presented here includes stories about Glói, the Icelandic dog, who along with 16 Icelandic horses, participated in the expedition. These chapters tell of Glói's adventures and fate, offering insight into the endurance displayed in the difficult and unpredictable conditions the expedition members faced.

Some chapters include dates as they appear in the book. I strongly recommend reading Vigfús's book. Vigfús Sigurðsson, the Greenland explorer, 1948; b. July 16, 1875, d. May 26, 1950.

What is particularly remarkable about this story is that there are many photographs from the expedition, including of Glói, and these images bring the tragic story even closer to us.

The photographs are sourced from the photo archives of the Arctic Institute, most of them taken by Alfred Wegener. In addition, there are images from Wegener's diary about the last days of the expedition.

Alfred Wegener, the German meteorologist and geophysicist, was born on November 1, 1880, in Berlin and likely died in November 1930 during his fourth Greenland expedition. His exact date of death is uncertain, as his body was not found until several months later. Wegener is best known for his theory of continental drift, which he first introduced in 1912.

The Journey to Greenland

"On the evening of July 6th, everything was ready. The horses were loaded onto the ship and secured on the deck. We had acquired a new travel companion, a small yellow dog with a white chest, who went by the name Glói. He didn’t appear to be a model of canine intelligence, but that didn’t matter much—his sole purpose was to provide companionship."

In Greenland

"From Port Denmark, we first sailed to Cape Storm, and along the way, we encountered our first musk ox. It was a bull, and we shot it, taking one of its hindquarters with us, primarily as food for Glói. The leg weighed about 40 kilograms.

"While we were working on the ferry equipment down by the river, we had heard Glói barking and causing a commotion up on the bank above us. We didn’t take the time to investigate what was going on, but now I decided to check it out before heading back to the tent. There he was, sitting proudly over a fox cub he had taken down. He looked at me with great satisfaction as I picked up the cub and brought it back to the tent with me. Of course, a photograph had to be taken of the whole scene when we arrived at the tent."

"By late afternoon, everything had been ferried across, and we then made the horses swim across the river. Glói preferred to swim rather than trust the ferry with his safety, because when Wegener took him onto the ferry, he jumped into the river and swam to the opposite bank. He sat howling on the eastern shore until we mounted the horses, and seeing that we were preparing to leave, he crossed over by himself."

"We then pitched our tents and began cooking our meal, but the pot had barely begun to boil when we looked out from the tent and saw that the musk oxen had wandered right into the middle of the horse herd. The horses could not tolerate the presence of the oxen and bolted in all directions. To have any peace, we realized we would have to get rid of the musk oxen and drive them away. We thought it would be a shame to kill them unless absolutely necessary, as we had little use for their meat. Though it was nice to cook fresh meat soup from time to time, it took so long to prepare that we felt it wasn’t worth the trouble, and Glói still had plenty of the leg we had taken from the ox we shot at Cape Storm. Remarkably, it was still unspoiled—not even a trace of rot—despite the fact that we had been carrying it in a sack among the horse packs for 18 to 19 days. This was proof that the bacteria causing decay didn’t exist here in the uninhabited northern regions of Greenland. It was certainly the best course of action to drive the oxen away, but first, we needed to take a picture of them. So we went out to meet them, one of us armed with a camera, the other with a rifle. When we were about 12 to 15 meters away, the oxen turned to face us, at which point one of us aimed the camera, and the other the rifle. The musk oxen scrutinized us carefully, then looked at each other, and back at us again, as if they were unsure of what to do. After a moment of mutual contemplation, they turned on their heels and fled. We followed them for about a kilometer, then suddenly had the idea to let Glói drive them further. He was thrilled to have something to do and ran after them with great barking and noise, clearly wanting to make as much of a spectacle as possible. But when he got close to them, the oxen turned to face him and let out a loud, gruff bellow. That was more than enough for Glói. He turned tail and fled towards us, with the oxen following behind. We realized then that we would have to drive the oxen away ourselves if we wanted to succeed."

"After lunch, we dug into an old Eskimo hut ruin and found both human and dog bones. It was clear that the inhabitants had died inside the hut, likely eating the dogs first and eventually succumbing to starvation themselves. Otherwise, we found nothing of value there."

"There was a little vegetation here: dwarf willows, arctic bramble, and grass. As a result, there were plenty of hares, so from the same spot, you could count 40–50 hares. The friendship between Glói and the hares was much like his friendship with the foxes. He couldn't see either without wanting to challenge them. The game with the hares, however, was immediately uneven, as Glói might as well have stood still rather than exhaust himself chasing after them. As soon as the chase began, he lost track of which hare he had been following, as countless others had already joined the game before he knew it. He gave up unusually quickly on this pursuit, hopeless about catching any of the hares, and walked dejectedly behind the horses. When we teased him by calling out, "Glói, watch the hares," he merely perked up his ears but didn't move and looked even more embarrassed afterward. He never felt as defeated as he did in that moment.

"When we sat down, I had placed my gloves and whip beside me, no more than three or four meters behind. Suddenly, I heard something being dragged across the gravel behind me, so I turned to look. There stood a blue fox, calmly dragging the whip behind her by the strap. She was so close that I could almost reach the handle of the whip. She stood there quite still, watching me as if we had known each other for a long time; at least, she seemed to feel she had every right to the whip. We stared at each other for a good two minutes, neither of us moving. While this was happening, Glói lay beside Wegener, sound asleep. He hadn’t been himself since that night, when he had felt so defeated chasing the hares. I’m not sure how Glói became aware of the fox, but suddenly he jumped to his feet, and the old hatred for the fox flared up in him. He intended to pounce on her in one leap, but the sly fox was quicker; she let go of the whip strap and darted around us. The harder Glói chased after her with more fury, the wider she made her circles, running in tighter and sharper loops. Eventually, the chase led up the mountain above us, where Glói pursued her around a large boulder. We stopped paying attention to them, fetched the horses, packed up our gear, and set off. Glói caught up with us half an hour later."

"That night, we had a peaceful rest, as Glói, who usually lay on the hay bales and kept watch, slept quietly until 7 o’clock in the morning. Then, he suddenly jumped up with loud barking. The enemies he was confronting were three musk oxen, two adults and a calf. They stood 12 to 15 meters from the tent entrance, observing the new visitor who was making such a fuss. But when I appeared at the tent door, barefoot and in my underwear, they had seen enough and fled. It worked out well for us, as we might have overslept otherwise, but now it was time to get going."

"We took a few photos and then descended from the glacier, crossing the river at the same spot before heading southeast. We came upon a small grassy hollow, offering decent grazing for the horses. There we pitched our tents and settled in for the night, chatting and amusing ourselves with the foolish thought that we were the first men to have brought Icelandic horses to the high glaciers of Greenland. From there, we drifted off to sleep, only to be woken by the noise of Glói barking as he chased after hares, of which there were dozens."

"On the way back the next day, we encountered a solitary musk ox. Our desire for fresh meat was rekindled, so Larsen was sent to shoot the bull, and he soon brought it down. We were looking forward to the catch, but when we started skinning the animal, we were rather taken aback; it was toothless with age and smelled strongly of musk. Nevertheless, we took most of the muscle meat with us, both from the thigh and the shoulders, as well as the heart, leaving the rest for the fox. Capt. Koch was in charge of cooking that day and fried steaks from the meat when we reached the campsite. But when the steaks were served, they turned out to be so foul-tasting that none of us could eat them. Even Glói, who was not used to gourmet food, refused them as well. Thus, the musk ox meat brought us no more pleasure than that."

"Later in the day, as we were sitting inside the tent having coffee, we heard Glói barking excitedly. It was clear that this was no ordinary visitor, as since we had slaughtered the horses, we had received daily visits, with usually 10–20 foxes at the horse carcasses at any one time. Glói did his best to guard them, but it wasn’t enough. However, this time it was obvious that the guest was of a different kind. We couldn’t ignore it, and as soon as one of us poked his head out of the tent door, we heard him say, 'A polar bear is here!' So we quickly grabbed our rifles, and the poor bear barely had time to look around. That evening, the heart and some other parts of the bear were on the frying pan, and it turned out to be a most delicious dish."

"Everything flashed through our minds with tremendous speed, but nothing stuck long enough for us to fully comprehend what was happening. All we knew was that we were in the midst of a glacier surge. Whether this had any serious impact on our lives and well-being didn’t even cross our minds. By now, the glacier had mostly calmed down, with only occasional pieces still falling and making some noise. This only prompted us to wonder whether the glacier would start again with the same intensity as before, but we hoped it wouldn’t. We discussed what to do next. Wegener wanted to move the tent, but where to? There was no way to move it across the crevasse until it was bridged again, and that wasn’t possible tonight. 'I suggest,' said Capt. Koch, 'that we go back into the tent, heat some coffee, and drink it.' 'I’d like to check on the horses first,' I said. 'But where’s Glói?' asked Larsen. Otherwise, he didn’t contribute much to the conversation, remaining silent and calm, as though all the commotion hadn’t affected him in the slightest. We called for Glói, but he didn’t come. He usually stayed close to us. We called again. This time we heard him whimpering somewhere down in the glacier, but we didn’t know exactly where, and it was impossible to search for him in the dark. We had to wait for daylight, if he wasn’t dead by then. Larsen and I went to the horse shelter while the others went back into the tent. The horses were all huddled together in one corner, packed tightly like sardines in a barrel, with Daman standing calmly and quietly as was fitting for a lady at her doorstep. They were clearly scared, but otherwise unharmed. Along the southwest wall of the horse shelter, a large crevasse had opened, and the ice wall had collapsed into it. Of our seven food crates, which had been stacked at the top of the wall, six had fallen down among the horses, and one was on the floor with them. There was nothing we could do there, so we went back to the tent with the others, where they had lit the primus stove and coffee was soon ready to warm us up. Then we crawled into our sleeping bags and slept until dawn, except for Larsen, who went outside a few times to call for Glói. Each time, it seemed to him that Glói was getting farther and farther away, until finally, there was no sound from him. But when daylight came and we stepped outside the tent, there was Glói, lying in his usual spot by the tent door. So, we had gotten our Glói back."

"We had weighed all the horse feed we had. It amounted to 45 bags of feed supplements, each weighing 49 kg, for a total of 2,205 kg. Of hay (grass), we had 78 bales left, which weighed a total of 3,238 kg. It was therefore unavoidable to reduce the number of horses and only saddle five, as the original feeding plan could not hold up. 2 kg of hay and 2 kg of feed supplements were insufficient. We had also suffered losses when the bear ate some of the feed supplements, as mentioned earlier. In addition, after we moved into the house and our belongings were left down by the glacier's edge, a fox had torn into several feed supplement bags and eaten from them. I suspect more was wasted than eaten. The fox had now become a regular visitor near the house, trying to find anything it deemed edible. We tried to protect the feed supplement bags by stacking them against one side of the house, surrounding them with hay bales on all sides and on top, and securing everything with kerosene cans. However, this didn’t entirely work, as the fox burrowed through the snow beneath the hay bales. We also had four horse carcasses about 100 meters from the house, which we had thought could serve as additional feed supplements for the horses. But the foxes got into those as well, even though Glói, our dog, tried to guard them during the day. It was an unequal game—they were many, and he was just one. Besides, he preferred to stay inside in the warmth with us rather than out in the cold."

"As I mentioned earlier, we had the meat from four horses lying on the glacier not far from the house. We had intended to use it as supplementary feed for the horses. But after nightfall, the foxes became so aggressive that we realized the meat would be ruined if we couldn’t bring it into the house. To give you an idea of the number of foxes, I’ll mention that Larsen would sometimes go outside with a rifle and shoot into the darkness towards the meat carcasses. Altogether, he shot four foxes, though it was impossible to aim properly, as you could see no more than four or five meters ahead. So we decided to build a snow house in front of the door of the main house, dividing it in two with a long wall down the middle. One half served as a passageway into the house, and the other as a storage area for the meat and other items, with a canvas sheet hanging over the doorway in place of a door. At the innermost part of the snow corridor, we built a small alcove in the snow wall and made a bed for Glói with hay and skins, so he could stand guard at night. During the day, he stayed inside with us. One of the things we placed in the snow house with the meat was the last fox that had been shot by Larsen. The morning after we had finished building the snow house, one of us, upon going outside (we always carried flashlights during the dark hours), noticed a fox tail lying in the passageway. Upon closer inspection, we found that foxes had gotten into the meat storage and gnawed off the tail, despite the canvas sheet in the doorway and Glói standing guard. We had previously observed that when faced with a single fox, Glói would puff himself up and act brave, but when there were many foxes, he would remain quiet and withdrawn. Once, we had to rescue him from a dangerous situation. One fox had latched onto Glói’s muzzle with its jaws and didn’t let go until Larsen hit it on the head with his rifle stock, which of course killed it."

Christmas and New Year

"It’s hard to make my reflections on this festive season seem very celebratory, and I ask the reader to forgive me if they seem rather meager. Our preparations for any sort of holiday variation consisted of melting enough ice so that we could wash our undershirts, which were made of dark blue wool and which we had been wearing since our journey across Vatnajökull from Akureyri in mid-June. We usually did very little laundry. The standard practice was to wear the same underwear for three months, then discard it and put on new ones. But we made an exception this time and washed our undershirts. We also washed our faces and hands, something we hadn’t done since October in the autumn. The horses were given more hay than usual, along with extra feed supplements, and we melted ice for them so they could have water to drink. However, this task didn’t bring us much satisfaction, as the horses ignored the water and preferred ice as usual. So we could have saved ourselves the trouble. Glói also received his Christmas treat—a good meal and so much food that he left some behind."

April 13th, 14th, and 15th

"Severe storm, wind speed around 8 on the Beaufort scale, temperature between -25 and -21°C. We were extremely fortunate to have made it home; it would have been unpleasant to spend so much time in a tent. Capt. Koch drew a map of our journey so far and wrote a summary of our travel story. In the coming days, when the weather permits, it will be necessary to take it to Hindrunarhöfði and place it in the cairn that Larsen and I had built, where we had left a description of our journey and planned route. That plan had completely changed after we failed to reach Queen Louise Land in the autumn. We wanted to leave behind a true and accurate account of our journey before setting out across the glacier. What could happen over a 1,200 km journey? We could disappear, and without a trace. Still, we always hope for the best when discussing the glacier crossing. The following day, the weather was good, but the outlook was ominous. Wegener and Larsen went to Hindrunarhöfði with the map and travel description, while Capt. Koch and I went to Lindhard Island for measurements. We all traveled on skis, as there was now a lot of snow. Capt. Koch and I hurried as fast as we could, as the weather was looking very bad. We made it home by 1 p.m., but by 2 p.m., a fierce storm had set in. Capt. Koch was very anxious about Wegener and Larsen, standing outside and staring into the blizzard, but soon Glói appeared from the storm, followed closely by the others. By the evening, the storm had intensified further and became one of the worst we had experienced so far."

April 17th, 18th, and 19th

"Another storm, but milder. In the evening of the 19th, we gave the horses their last hay and feed, and we ate the last of the food we had."

"When we woke up the next morning, there was a dense fog and snowstorm, but later the wind picked up from the northwest, clearing the fog a little, though it was still not suitable for travel due to the storm and snow. By 6 p.m., however, the weather had improved enough that we decided it was safe to retrieve supplies from the Gefjun Peak depot. But as it turned out, just as we arrived, the storm hit again. We hurried to load the sleds, relying on our ability to follow the trail back. We pressed on as fast as possible, but the weather worsened to the point where we could barely see our feet. Eventually, we lost the trail, though we couldn’t have been more than a kilometer away from the tent by that point. We tied the train together, and Capt. Koch took charge of leading it, holding my horse; I walked ahead, while the others made sure none of the horses fell behind. I could only rely on the wind's direction to guide us. We kept going. Capt. Koch was right behind me. After a while, I sensed, based on the snow conditions and estimated distance, that we must be close to the tent, but I couldn’t see anything through the storm. Glói had disappeared from my sight. I called out, and he came immediately, straight from the direction of the wind. I walked a few steps in the direction he came from, and there stood the tent. We were saved—both men and horses. In the storm we were in, none of us would have survived a day, let alone longer. We got the horses inside and fed them. Afterward, we crawled into the tent, had something to eat, and then went to sleep in our sleeping bags."

May 24th

"We are staying put to give the horses a rest. The measured longitude is 34°10' W. We have therefore covered 89 km in the last four days. Elevation above sea level is 2,550 meters. The horses and Glói are suffering from snow blindness; I think it’s more from the constant storm and blowing snow, which lashes and scours our faces. The snow glare might also play a role. The snow bunting is still with us. If we wake up and it's calm and sunny, he sits on the tent ridge and sings. Today, there is little wind, but the temperature is -29°C."

May 29th

"We continued for 6 hours, as before, with the exception that now Kári was put in the lead again, and for the first time, his sled was lightened by a few kilograms. Tomorrow, we will be able to lighten his sled by 50 kg. After this 6-hour journey, we stopped, dug out the horse shelter as usual, and pitched the tent. The elevation difference seems to be steadily decreasing, as we have only ascended a few meters in the past few days. The snow is more evenly distributed and looser, today reaching halfway up the horses' legs, making the going heavier. The old snow is also looser and appears to be layered. It’s harder to tell, though, as the crust that used to be between the layers is now completely gone. It seems as if the sun has no effect on the glacier’s surface here, so the crust can’t form. Today, it has been particularly noticeable that there is air between the layers in the snow, causing it to collapse as we move forward, producing a swish or thud in the snow, which can last for 5 seconds or more. This frightens Glói greatly, and he prefers to ride on one of the sleds. When we make him walk, he follows the last sled, tilting his head so that one ear points straight down. The snow bunting continues to follow us, and now we’ve figured out what it lives on. We see it pecking at the horse dung around the campsite. The weather is good, calm, with fog on the horizon, and the temperature is -26°C."

May 30th

"We are staying put and resting the horses. Little work. We dug a few holes into the glacier to try to determine the thickness of the snow layers, but because the crust is missing, we were unable to reach any conclusion. We made ourselves an extra portion of oatmeal and added butter to it. It’s one of the greatest luxuries we can afford in this place, where we must otherwise live on a fixed daily ration, providing only enough calories to maintain our strength and stamina. Last night, Glói became restless in the tent; he behaved so erratically inside that from now on, he will have to stay outside in the cold, poor thing. Since our last rest day, five days ago, we have traveled 92 kilometers and are now at the 37th degree of west longitude. The weather is a light wind from the west, with occasional gusts of drifting snow, and the temperature is -25.8°C."

June 13th

"This morning, we left the campsite at 4:30 a.m., continuing in our usual manner for 8 hours and covering 20 km. Kári still seems to have the same stamina, but of course, we tried to help pull as much as we could. The weather was not good—southwesterly wind at 6 on the Beaufort scale, drifting snow, and frost at -30°C. We saw fresh fox tracks; the fox had come from the west and run east. This is quite remarkable, considering we are 385 kilometers from any ice-free land. Glói, who for a long time now has been too frightened to do anything but stay in our tracks, afraid of the constant rustling sound from the snow beneath as we move forward, suddenly became alert and ran off along the fox's tracks, but of course heading west, the direction the fox had come from. He was soon out of sight and didn’t return to us until four hours later."

June 17th

"We remain in place due to the southwest storm and snow, with temperatures at -22.4°C. There's nothing to do but stay in our sleeping bags most of the day. There's probably more activity back home in Iceland on Jón Sigurðsson's birthday. Poor Glói is lying under the tent edge, looking miserable. Same day, 6 p.m.: We've taken pity on poor Glói and let him into the tent. He even got 1/8 kg of chocolate when he came in. Now he's lying between Wegener and Larsen, at their feet, enjoying the warmth."

June 24th

"We remain stationary to rest Kári, hoping it might help. During the night, we were woken by Glói barking and making noise outside, so Larsen looked out. There were two ravens visiting, but they flew off southwest, towards land. The weather was good, with a light breeze from the southeast, and the temperature at -5.5°C."

July 3rd

"We set off half an hour after midnight. It was bright sunshine, with a temperature of -4°C, and the sledding and skiing conditions were excellent. Kári was still performing well. In itself, our journey today was quite reckless. Along our path, there were many slopes going downhill, and without knowing what was below the slope, my companions sat on the sled with Kári, while I skied ahead. By noon, we had likely covered about 40 km when we encountered a crevasse filled with water, which flowed with a slight incline. We couldn’t see how deep it was because of the water, but in the area we traversed, it was likely 6–8 meters wide. There was no way for us to cross it. So, we pitched our tent and waited. We hoped that by evening it would freeze, and the water level would drop in the crevasse, because at one point we saw a ledge on its western edge, which our 4-meter-long sled could cross if the water level dropped enough to expose the ledge. The weather was wonderfully pleasant—sunshine and warmth. The wind was more southerly than it had been recently, no longer blowing straight from the glacier. It felt like we had descended from the harsh winter of the high glacier into the warmth and sunshine of summer. We used the heat from the sun to dry our sleeping bags and other items, although there wasn't much left to dry, as we had discarded most of our belongings. We had only given Kári small amounts of food two or three times, and we had eaten about as often. We hadn’t tasted bread or wheat biscuits for several days—Kári had been using them. Poor Glói had also had little for a long time; he had been so fat when we started on the glacier that he struggled to walk, and he was likely the only one of us still in decent condition."

"After half an hour, we reached the river. The same situation as before repeated itself: we took off our clothes, waded across the river, and finally reached the depot. It had been 37 hours since we left. We had eaten 1/8 kg of chocolate and half a ptarmigan egg each, had no sleep, and, according to our rough measurements, walked about 90 km. By now, the weather was pleasant, and the sun had broken through, though we still felt cold. We tore into the depot, retrieved the primus stove, fueled it with kerosene, and set it between three stones. We grabbed half a box of tea biscuits, emptied it, and planned to use it as a pot. There was also a packet of oatmeal, and we intended to cook ourselves some porridge. The box leaked in one corner, and the porridge was about to burn, even though we were stirring it with the primus handle. We gave up on cooking, added milk, used the biscuits as spoons, and ate with great appetite. I thought it was a wonderful meal. Then we opened a can of anchovies, ate the fish, and used the can to heat coffee as many times as necessary for both of us to be satisfied. Then we each took a cigar, walked over to a large rock, sat down, and planned to enjoy our cigars in the sun. But we fell asleep before we could finish smoking them. I woke up to something cold touching my face. It was Glói, though he should have been with our companions on the glacier. I woke Capt. Koch and told him that they must be on their way down from the glacier, otherwise, Glói wouldn’t be here. We got up, but we were even stiffer than before, and our feet were sorer. We could barely walk. We had slept for two hours. We staggered forward. It wasn’t walking; I don’t know what it resembled. With many breaks, we managed to get far enough to see the tent. Wegener was outside and saw us. He poked his head into the tent for a moment, then walked over to a walking stick stuck in the snow and came to meet us. He handed me the stick, but took Capt. Koch by the arm and supported him back to the tent. It was noon on July 6th. They were just getting up. We drank coffee with them, then crawled into their still-warm sleeping bags and fell sound asleep."

"Eight hours later, they woke us, offered us food, and asked if we hadn’t had enough sleep. We accepted the food but wanted to sleep longer. Four hours later, they woke us again, and this time we heard their news. In short: they had shot Kári immediately and moved the tent beyond a glacier ridge so that we wouldn’t see him dead by the tent door when we returned. While rain had been pouring down on us, they had experienced sleet storms and frost. At 9 a.m., when we arrived, Glói had disappeared, and they assumed we were nearby. We packed up the tent, loaded the gear onto the sled, and set off down the glacier. Capt. Koch and I were swollen from head to foot and our heels were sore. By noon on July 7th, we had brought all our belongings down from the glacier. This was the first time we pitched our tent on bare ground after 87 days on the glacier, having traveled 1,200 kilometers across it. That day, there were occasional snow flurries, but none of it stuck. After pitching the tent and cooking ourselves a meal, we went down to the lake, cut each other's hair and beards, and washed our faces and hands—something we hadn’t done since Christmas Eve."

"On the headland, we ate our last meal, which consisted of one barley cake for each of us and a small can of condensed milk. We diluted the milk with cold water so that each person could get about a pint. We couldn’t start a fire, as the sleet was covering everything and made everything wet. After this meal, we set off again, intending to follow the fjord. But that wasn’t possible, as the cliffs extended into the sea. We attempted to climb up and managed to reach an elevation of about 600 meters. By then, the storm had picked up, with dense wind and snow, and visibility was poor. We found ourselves at the edge of a cliff with plenty of loose rocks. We decided to build a shelter about knee-high, using the cliff face as one wall. The shelter was just big enough for us to lie tightly packed together, side by side. We stuffed moss into the largest gaps and used a sled sail for the roof. We stayed in this shelter for 24 hours. The storm raged the entire time. Glói lay on Wegener’s feet. If any of us grew tired of lying on the same side and wanted to turn over, we all had to do so together."

Morning of July 15th

The storm subsided, leaving everything covered in a foot-thick layer of snow. However, there was still fog in the air, and visibility was poor. Nevertheless, we set out. We were all weak and downcast. We had only been walking for 5–6 minutes when Capt. Koch’s vision went black, and he collapsed into the snow. He didn’t lose consciousness entirely. We lifted him up so he could sit, gave him some camphor drops that we had with us, and tried to talk to him. The camphor drops revived him enough that he was able to stand up. We walked back to the stone shelter and discussed what to do next. Capt. Koch suggested that the only solution was to try to make it back to the riverbank where we had eaten our last meal, build a cairn there, leave our diaries inside it, "and give glory to God," as he put it. None of us wanted to accept this. We were out of food, but where could we find any? It was hard to think about slaughtering Glói. The poor thing had faithfully accompanied us from the very beginning. But he would have to save us from starving to death. We had 8 bullets left. We had seen many ptarmigans on our journey so far, and we were bound to see some today. We could shoot them and eat them raw, and we would surely see Pröven before the day was over. Wegener began trying to start a fire with the heather from the shelter. Larsen went along the cliff wall; he had often found sorrel growing near the rock walls. This one jutted out so much that, in some places, the snow didn’t quite reach it. Larsen thought he might find something that resembled vegetation. Capt. Koch lay down in the shelter. But I had to deal with Glói, no matter how hard it was.

We cut the meat into small pieces and added what Larsen had gathered—what we called vegetables—into the pot. We had lost the lid to the pot, so it remained open. The heather was reluctant to burn. There was still some kerosene left in the bottle, so we poured it into the fire little by little, and finally, the meal was ready to enjoy. I found it good, though hunger makes everything taste sweet. The worst part was the smoky flavor. The whole process had taken about three hours.

"Meanwhile, the fog had lifted, allowing us to see the sun. Wegener was standing by the rock wall while eating, but he was also looking out over the fjord. The rest of us were sitting on the wall of the shelter. Suddenly, Wegener said, unusually loudly, 'What is that out there on the fjord? Is it an iceberg, or is it a boat with sails?' We jumped up and looked in the direction Wegener was pointing, and everyone said, 'It’s a boat! We have to reach it!'"

"After a three-hour row, we arrived at Pröven. It was the 15th of July, at 6 in the evening. We were warmly received by the colonial administrator, Lembcke-Otto. Of course, a little bit of comedy had to take place before we were allowed onto the dock, since Greenland was a closed country, and I believe it still is. All our supplies were in order. It was a different situation with poor Gloi, but now he was dead, so there was no need to perform any ceremony related to him on the dock."