In the Land of White Death: An Epic Story of Survival in the Siberian Arctic by Jon Krakauer, David Roberts, Alison Anderson, Valerian Albanov Read Free Book Online

were leaving and those who were staying. Some of those who were to remain on the ship expressed concern that each of the sledges—laden with nearly 400 pounds—was too heavy to be hauled by just two men over such rough terrain, but those who were leaving affected an air of confidence. Then it was decided that everyone on board would help haul the sledges as far as our first camp. Each of those who would be staying behind assigned himself to the sledge of whoever was his closest companion.

    Physical strength had nothing to do with the makeup of each hauling team; it was based solely on the bonds of friendship. Those of us who were leaving bragged about the special attributes of our personal “tugboats” who were to haul us out of the “quiet harbor into the open sea” on the initial leg of our journey.

    “Just look at that grinning mug!” someone declared of his escort. “He’ll really put his back into it!” My own “tugboat” was the harpooner Denisov, and his robust physique apparently provoked envy among some of my companions, although they pretended to be indifferent.

    As we gathered around the table, the gramophone provided background music, including what had lately been our two favorite recordings: “Come Ashore,” and “The Call of the Snow-white Gull.” These songs had been played several hundred times during our four-day Easter celebration, so every chord was familiar—indeed, we were all rather sick of them, but they evoked pleasant memories of the early months of our voyage, when we were filled with high hopes as we sailed along the Norwegian coast. This confidence had sustained us for a long while, even when the ice had closed in around us. In those halycon days our cook/poet, Kalmikov, had composed a long poem, put it to music, and sung it to us for hours on end. I have forgotten the bulk of it, alas, but I still remember these confident lines:
     

    Under the flag of Mother Russia

    Our captain will show us the way

    Along the coast of Siberia

    In our ship so fine and gay.
     

    Finally Lieutenant Brusilov came below and the meal began. Miss Zhdanko served the soup and encouraged us to eat heartily. We were very hungry, since it was already four o’clock and normally we ate at noon. In spite of our limited supplies, the meal looked like a banquet. But would we ever enjoy sitting down together like this again? And if indeed one day we did, how many of us would be there? Although no one spoke of it, we must have all been thinking the same thing, for the table was uncharacteristically silent; joy was not one of the guests.

    It seemed as if we were fulfilling one final, painful obligation.

    After I left the table, I went up on deck to shoot a final sun sight with the sextant. The sun was setting in a reddish smear, and the horizon was veiled in mist—indications of an imminent change in the weather. I marked our position on the chart, and carried it back to my sledge with the sextant and the chronometer. I had put on a double layer of underclothing in addition to my normal clothes and had given everything else to those staying behind. There was only one personal item I was taking with me: an icon of Saint Nicholas the Miracle-worker.

    Soon my cabin was empty: I cast a farewell glance round the bare little room and then went out onto the ice. Our traveling outfits consisted of high boots in leather or sealskin, with uppers made of the same sailcloth we had used for our jackets and trousers; we had warm undergarments, a cap, and earmuffs. We made a strange-looking group, all kitted out with our towlines over our shoulders and a long ski pole in one hand. My comrades were lined up, facing south. The dark hulls of the kayaks with their high, raked bows and white canvas lashing strips were reminiscent of a flock of wild ducks that had gathered to fly south to warmer lands. Unfortunately, however, they could not fly and we would have to haul them.

    The sledges had been packed with all our