Excerpts from
Fridtjof Nansen and Hjalmar Johansen
By Klaus Rifbjerg
With the aid of a compass they pushed on, and soon one day began to be much like another, so well drilled and practised were even the most basic routines. They knew what they were up against, and they knew how important it was to keep to the schedule if the plan was to work and deliver a successful outcome. They did not ski side by side; Nansen always went ahead as a matter of course, and so the opportunity for conversation was automatically limited. Only in the evenings (the difference between day and night could be determined by the *chronometer* and the position of the heavenly bodies) when they had set up the shelter tent, laid out the sleeping bag, fed the dogs, lit the primus stove and put food on did they exchange a few words. Conversations were frequently rather stilted, if you could call them conversations at all, because it was clear from the atmosphere that also at these times there was an unspoken agreement in force. Words were to be used to discuss resources, the route, sightings and procedures, and in this way the words themselves were turned into a resource and were given a deliberately temperate, action-oriented and practical content.
It didn’t matter that much. There was no real sense of loss since the days provided so many experiences and practical challenges that they were enough in themselves to keep a sense of futility at bay. And then there was his increasing admiration for the leader. There was no sentimentality in him, it was more a kind of imposing solemnity, a quality that accrued to him from everything that he had already accomplished and achieved, but it was also part of him because his status demanded it. Indeed, in the privations he willingly accepted in the service of the greater good there was a grandiose humility that was frightening. He had left home and family for the greater good. He had lived in isolation for several years at a time, far away from the beautiful woman whose intimacy he shared, and who – Johansen had read about this – used to sing, * and it was as if the notes came to him across the ice with such deep resonance that he imagined he could hear them as the northern lights draped themselves across the horizon and hung in flame red festoons between the margins of his vision.
It was only when they were about to get into the duvets – Nansen had used this expression – that initially there seemed to be something of an awkward hesitation, which, as even this became routine, they soon had under control. There was no question of them “getting undressed for the night”; they lay fully clothed facing each other in the double sleeping bag that was specifically designed in such a way that they could retain the warmth generated by the heat from both of their bodies. The distance they maintained during the day, however, was reduced radically in this situation. Nansen’s beard with the drooping walrus moustache was approximately fifteen centimetres from his own goatee beard and before they settled into comfortable positions and closed their eyes, he was confronted by such a dark, impenetrable world that for a second he found himself holding his breath, and he felt such an intensely protective urge that he put his hand out again to ensure that the rifle was where it should be, loaded, with the safety catch on, but ready for action should a hostile bear or any other wild animal stumble into where they were sleeping. Through the gloves his fingers felt the smooth barrel and ran along it, caressing it. He knew the weapon was polished, greased and ready and at the same time he felt some pride at the thought that Nansen had specifically determined that they should also have the gun with the telescopic sights, perhaps even as a special gift to him, “the crack shot”, the young man who hit everything he aimed at, even from a distance of several hundred metres. Suddenly the dogs all started howling at once, as if some creature had flown over the camp or someone had walked past them in the snow. But he knew that no* one had passed by, that they were alone, completely alone, but alone together, and that was fine, in fact better than anything. For it was he who had been selected.
Translated by Don Bartlett
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