My Northern Exposure: The Kawa at the Pole

The choice of a route. Off at last. We take aboard a passenger. Seeds of discontent. Into the long twilight. Radio reversals. The ice at last. Trouble with our water-line. Its h...

We reach the polar cap. The strange incident of the missing Orders. Who stole the papers? The Arctic summer. A sportsman's Paradise. Notes from my journal. Whinney's sad experie...

The last ten miles. A mental observation. We lose our magnetic bowsprit. The Big Peg at last! "The Lady, first!" We celebrate our arrival. I glimpse a vision Page 103

We had reached the edge of the great polar-pack. Those of my readers whose knowledge of ice packs is limited to those which can be wrapped in an ordinary hand-towel can, of cour...

From her berth in the Harlem, the Kawa steamed, or to be more exact, gasolined, to the landing stage of the N.Y.Y.C. station at the foot of East Twenty-second St. Our progress h...

_The choice of a route. Off at last. We take aboard a passenger. Seeds of discontent. Into the long twilight. Radio reversals. The ice at last. Trouble with our water-line. Its...

Those of my readers who have not deserted during the cataloguing of our supplies may be interested in knowing something of our route. The lines of approach to the Pole are, of c...

We had reached the solid floe. About us, white and interminable, stretched the polar pack, with here and there inky streaks, the open "leads" which often yawn between the very f...

Our navigator lowered the astrolabe through which he had been peering and folded up his artificial horizon. He then figured for a few moments on the edge of the taffrail, scrupu...

The succeeding days were occupied with the business of getting settled. Our eight-day clock recorded July 7th before we finally got down to work. By throwing up a waist-high wal...

The longer I live the more of a fatalist I become. Looking back on the weeks which followed our meeting with Makuik and his family I see myself powerless in the grip of a force...

Old Ezra was right. Night had fallen while we slept. The long Arctic blackness had followed our twilight sleep, and we were now in the grip of its intense cold.

She came directly to me in the morning. Sleep had calmed her somewhat. She was cool, but determined. In her hand she held a packet of papers, sealed with the seal of the E.U.

The balance of my story is briefly told. On April twenty-third, we picked up Fire Island light and two hours later had received a clean bill of health from the quarantine station.