THE POLAR FLIGHT

Poverty Bay Herald, Volume LV, Issue 17125, 4 December 1929, Page 7

THE POLAR FLIGHT

SOME ANXIOUS MOMENTS CROSSING THE RANGES BYRD CONTINUES NARRATIVE (Copyright 1929 by tin, New York Times Co., anil the St. Louis Post-Dispatch. All rights ’ for publication reserved throughout the world.) (By Wireless to the New York Times.) (By Commander ,Byrd.) in, the, following message Commander Richard Byrd continues his narrative of the flight over the South Pole. ' BAY OF WHALES, Dec. 2.

We headed for the Axel IJeilberg glacier. YVe knew Captain Amundson had reported the highest point of the pass there as 10,500 ft., with towering peaks each side, but would they be so close, together that, the air currents would dash us to the ground, hovering, as,we would be, with our. heavy load near the absolute ceiling of the ’plane, and near • a-n altitude where controls would no longer function. To the right there was another great glacier, which we had seen an our base-laying flight. It looked passable, but was it wide enough? , Were there mountains bo>ond that which would block us, and over which we could not fly? The top- of the pass was partly covered with cloud. Would the Axel Heilberg glacier be entirely cloud-covered ?

Clouds so frequently hover around the tops of tliese mountains that even on the clearest, days, the sun sends up warm currents which, striking the cold aljoye,’, form clouds. For a while, Bernt and’ I conferred. Would we chance the unknown glacier? If wo should fail to get over and have to turn back down the glacier to select another pass, we could not reach the Pole ; the gas would be tod low, and we would have to (urn back to Little America. It seemed a flip of the coin, so we decided to stake success on the unknown glacier to the right.

White -clouds round the mountains that bounded the top of the pass to the right and left merged with the white in the centre of the pass. Was it snow or clouds? And, if clouds, could we fly above them ? And would the clouds stretch over the plateau to the pole, making flying impossible? We would have to keep out of the clouds, while dodging around amongst the mountains, for, in the clouds, we would almost certainly collide with the peak. Soon we had passed near our little cache of food and gasoline and were more than a mile above it. It was, of course, too tiny to be seen from our altitude. When we had landed at that base mountain, we saw a ridge running in an easterly and westerly direction and about, four miles away loomed a very largo mountain, AWE-INSPIRING PEAKS.

Now wo could see behind it, and, towards the south and south-west, towering peaks that made our base mountain look like a pigmy, and we idealised forcefully then how very little, indeed, the foot traveller sees. Now below us was the ice lino of the great barrier. For a distance it was terribly crevassed, the cracks running parallel and looking like a great washing board. .It would' be a bad landing place. The mountain peaks and formations, that wore in our view were awe-inspiring in their majesty and terrible in their colossal shapes. They had been carved into extraordinary jagged round forms by ice cutting through them for the untold years that the. bottom of the world had been in the clutches of the ico ago. As wo eagerly looked around, we felt very insignificant and small among those lofty peaks, which, since the childhood of’ mankind, have symbolised its inspiration. Everywhere we looked at some formation probably no living thing had ever before seen, for this area is the coldest on earth. It is dead; but there was little time for such thoughts. Our ’plane was busy. A great contrast to our lifeless surroundings. There was Mac, with his great aerial camera, elated at this opportunity to secure a record for geography in the unknown things about him, snapping picture after picture and panting from his strenuous efforts in the rare air of our high altitude, air dumps throwing him about as he aimed his 5011). camera through the window. But all of it did not prevent him from looking around and smiling at us occasionally. There was Harold cranking away at the moving picture camera io get a panorama of the mountains or dashing over to the radio to reporj. our position. A CRITICAL TIME.

A critical time had come now—a moment we had discussed a thousand times. What had been our gasoline consumption? Would wo have enough left to reach the Pole? Would \vc have too much aboard to climb over the bumps? Calmly, even tranquilly, Harold stands examining the gauges of the five gas tanks in the great wings. Then he unscrews tho cap of a tank in the fuselage and measures, with a graduated stick, the gas left there. Then ho cuts open some sealed five-gallon tms and dumps the gas into a tank, so wo can throw the tins overboard. Each can weighs hardly a, pound, but every pound counts at this critical period. He figures for a moment on a pad, and hands me the result with a smile. We had enough gas to go beyond the Pole, if we didn’t have to dump any. Then Harold looks at the engines, listens to their hum, and examines tlie gauges. Harold is as expert a mechanic as lie is a pilot and radio operator. There was Bernt concentrating on his fight to gain altitude, still with uncertainty ahead, for tho glacier was a long one,' and the lowest point of the pass before us was still above the nose of the ’plane. Confused air currents from the cliffs had begun to toss the plane about more violently. We could note the tenseness and strain on Brent s face, as lie put himself into the job. He was going as well in the air as on the ground. He plays the game, and is always a true, capable and dependable' man. Tho air begun to get rougher. _ Bernt hugged tho peaks on the. leo side of the pass, where the bumps would be more likely to carry the ’plane up and down. We were getting very close to the highest altitude. The ’plane could reach the 9000 ft. peak on our right, and tho wind from our left, was striking it, being shot upward, helping us, we thought. The altimeter showed 10,000 ft., but wo could not depend on that. The barometer here was likely to read the same as over Little America, because of the local pressure change. FOOD THROWN OVERBOARD.

Our weight was a hit over 13,0001 b. To the right we saw some deep gorges. That surely would mean turbulent air, and Bernt eased over to the left, where there was a long fairly smooth slope running up to the peak 15,000 ft. high. He avoided the turbulent area, but down current here made it a. more difficult fight for altitude. The ailerons tailed to respond, and the wheel turned loosely in Bernt’s hands. Still we were not. high enough to safely get over the pass ahead. Wo saw now the great plateau through the clouds hovering around the peaks to the right and left. It was a critical moment. The air was too rarified to hold up our heavy load. Bernt yelled in my ear above the rqai l of the engines that we must

drop 2001 b. immediately or go back. Harold was standing by the dump valve of our fuselage tank. A little pressure on the valve and we could let go 6001bof gasoline. If we dumped that gas we could not reach the Pole and get back to the base. Food was the only thing left to throw overboard, but would it be fair to those three fellows if we dumped this precious iood? Wo would he a long time on the plateau if we should have a forced landing. YVe had food packed in 1001 b. and 251 b bags near the trap door i%acly lor quick action.

“A bag of food overboard,” I yelled to Harold.

lie signalled to Mac, who was standing by the trap door. •‘Shall I do it, Commander?” Macshouted.

I nodded, and over went one of the brown bags. Bernt looked around and siniled. Unit little weight had an immediate effect, for a 'plane, when it is hovering near its absolute ceiling, is like a balloon. A few pounds overboard will make tier shoot up. Things were better now, but 1 was not sure it was fair to those fellows to dump the food. Bernt, was easing over to the right now, where, luckily, it was clear over the lowest part of the pass. We would get out of the descending currents and, probably, bo helped by the ascending ones. We were not high enough yet. I looked around. Mac was hard at work with his camera. Mo matter what would happen, lie had to record those mountains. I felt then that if we had gone down in a tail-spin, Mae would have taken pictures on the way down if there had been time. 1 might have told Mac he would have to throw his heavy camera overboard to gain altitude. Mac is a true soldier and ho would have obeyed orders, but I am sure lie would jjfiave followed his camera through the trap door. Harold went nonchalantly about his many duties, as if it were all in the day’s work. When he listened to the engine, his pleasure plainly showed in his face. The great cyclone and whirlwinds went on, roaring sweetly. But if one of them should shoot down, we would go on to the glacier, unless wo could dump many hundreds of pounds. Very luckily we had gradually gained more altitude, but not enough. A lew hundred feet now might make the difference between success or dismal failure. How much hung upon those few hundred feet! It was very rough now, and Mac and Harold could hardly hold their feet. Very slowly wo went up. Suddenly, the wheel turned loosely m Bernt’s hands. “Quick, dump more ! n he shouted. I pointed to another bag of food, and Mac shoved it through the trap door and we watched it hit, the glacier, two hundred and fifty pounds of food—a month’s supply for four men —lies out there on that lifeless glacier. Again it did the trick. We seemed to shoot up. We could not let any more food go, nor could we dump any gasoline and have any reserve supply lelt for reaching the Pole. There was nothing more to dump. We must make it. The minutes went very slowly, but at last wo reached the pass and we had a few hundred feet, to spare. Bernt gave a shout of joy. There were no mountains beyond the pass. The platenui stretches away cloudless and glistening in the sun, giving an unobstructed route to the Pole. We wore over the dreaded hump, and the Pole, lay dead ahead over the, horizon.