For most of the twentieth century, people believed that Robert Peary was the first person to reach the North Pole, in 1909. However, more recently, historians have decided that he got close – possibly as close as 8 kilometres – but that he did not actually reach it.
I have saved all my energy for this. I have worked for twenty-two years for it. I have lived a simple life and trained for it. I feel fit and ready for the coming days and I am keen to be on the move. My team, my equipment, my supplies are perfect – far better than I expected. My team are so good they feel like the fingers of my right hand – ready to do anything I ask them.
I have four Eskimos who have grown up with a deep cultural understanding of dogs, sledges, ice and cold. Henson and Ootah were with me on an expedition three years ago. Egingwah and Seegloo are experienced, too. A few years ago, on an Arctic trip with Clark, their food ran out and they survived by eating parts of their sealskin boots.
The fifth member of my team was Ooqueah. He has no expedition experience at all. However, if possible, he is even more keen than the others to go wherever I decide and to do whatever I ask. He is always thinking of the great treasure that I am promising to each person who reaches the Pole with me. I am offering them a boat, a gun, knives – things that Eskimos can only dream about.
Every day we marched long distances but this did not worry the Eskimos. Every day they seemed to become more eager and interested. Every time we stopped to make camp, they climbed to the highest point on the ice and looked north. They were looking for the pole because they were certain that this time it was in their hands.
The bitter wind burned our faces. Long after we made camp each day, they still hurt so much that it was sometimes difficult to get to sleep. The Eskimos complained a lot. At every camp they fixed their fur clothing around their faces, waists, knees and wrists. They also complained about their noses, which they never usually did. The air was as sharp and bitter as frozen steel.
The last march north ended at 10 o'clock in the morning on 6 April. We had travelled five days further north than anyone else ever and I thought that we must be very close to our goal. After our usual arrangements for making camp, I made some calculations and found that we were at 89° 57'.
We were now at the end of the last long part of the journey north. But, even with the Pole almost in sight, I was too exhausted to take the last few steps. The tiredness of days and nights marching through snow and ice, insufficient sleep, continuous danger and worry – all of this seemed to hit me at the same time. I was actually too exhausted to realise that I was about to achieve my life's work. We built our igloos, ate our dinner, fed the dogs and then I had a few hours of absolutely necessary sleep. But I could not sleep for long and woke up only a few hours later. The first thing I did when I woke up was to write these words in my diary: 'The Pole at last. The prize of three centuries. My dream and goal for twenty years. Mine at last. Yet it all seems so simple and so ordinary.'
Later, I planted the American flag in the ice and then shook hands with each member of the party. The Eskimos were childishly happy at our success. While they did not fully realise its worldwide importance, they did understand that it was the final achievement for me after many years' hard work.
On the return journey I wrote these words in my diary: 'I have achieved my life's work. I have got the North Pole out of my system after twenty-two years of effort, hard work, disappointment, difficulties and dangers. I have won the last great goal of exploration, the North Pole, for the United States. I am content.'
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