100 Years Ago: June 1925

[George Thomas Wilson]

100 Years Ago: June 1925

 

This is the 125^th entry in my series of rewrites of one-hundred-year-old National Geographic Magazines.

 

 

The first article in this month’s issue is entitled “A Caravan Journey Through Abyssinia” and was written by Harry V. Harlan.  It has the internal subheading: “From Addis Ababa Through Lalibela, the Strange Jerusalem of Ethiopia, in Search of New Grains for American Farmers.”  The article contains forty-six black-and-white photographs, nineteen of which are full-page in size.  It also contains a sketch map of Abyssinia on page 618.

Sketch Map courtesy of Philip Riviere

One of the most famous women rulers in the history of the world sat upon the throne of Abyssinia nearly 3,000 years ago, but the present [in 1925] empress was not allowed to govern her people.  Waizeru Zauditu was merely the nominal head of this country which was home of the Queen of Sheba in the days of Solomon.  The actual ruler of Abyssinia, or Ethiopia as its natives called it, was Ras Taffari, the regent and heir apparent, and cousin of the Empress.  There had been an increased sentiment to widen Abyssinia’s contact with the outside world.  At the end of the World War, the governor of the province of Gore was sent to congratulate the Allies on their victory.  During his tour, he visited the U. S., and later, in Abyssinia, he described his visit to the Ford automobile plant in Detroit.  Ras Taffari went to Aden in 1922 and viewed the city from the first airplane he had ever seen.  In 1924, he visited Europe.  When in London, the King of England presented him with the crown of King Theodore of Abyssinia, which was captured by the British in 1868.  On his trip, he took lions and zebras as gifts.  Th British monarch and the French President each received a lion; the other rulers visited received a zebra each.  The regent saw the wonders of civilization, but offered no opinions.  The authors first interview with Ras Taffari was in November 1923.  As we waited in the reception room of the palace, a servant opened the door too soon and revealed His Highness arranging his draperies.  When they entered, he was seated in the center of a divan with twin cushions at either end.  Ras Taffari was a man of slight build, with an olive skin, an intelligent face, and wonderful eyes.  His delicate hands, with long fingers, were his most remarkable feature.  They fascinated the author, and throughout the interview he could hardly take his eyes from them.

The purpose of the interview was to pave the way to a request for travel passes.  The author explained that he was sent by his government to collect seeds of Abyssinian plants for cultivation in America.  Ras Taffari was amazed that his country could furnish things of value to the U. S.  It was necessary that he understood fully the objective of the author’s trip, for the regent’s rule was absolute.  If a foreigner wished to go to Gore, it was of the ruler that the request for passes was made.  The author wanted not only to travel but to travel through the heart of Amhara, which comprised the northwest quarter of Ethiopia.  This was the historic region of Abyssinia, inhabited by Amharas, a Hamitic-Semitic people.  Many Americans thought of Abyssinians as Negroes.  Many years ago [in 1925] the Negroes of America sent a mission to Ethiopia to congratulate Menelik on being the ruler of the only independent Negro country.  He refused to receive the mission.  The Amharas were a proud people and had looked upon their negroid tribes as inferior beings.  With no U. S. resident agent, the author’s request ran into difficulties.  Although the ruler was very favorably disposed to Americans, he first made very sure of their mission and satisfied that they were as they represented themselves.  It was several weeks before the author obtained his papers.  Eventually, all doubts were dispelled and the permits were granted.  There had been some suspicion regarding the author’s traveling companion, a student.  Why should he desire to endure two months of hard travel?  While the ruler was making up his mind, they spent three interesting weeks in and around the capital.  A capital in Ethiopia for centuries was the temporary home of the king, or in provinces, the feudal representative of the king.

Such capitals were situated on sharp peaks surrounded by military defenses.  A village usually sprang up about the place; the population increased and the available firewood decreased.  Eventually, the capital was transferred to a location where fuel was more abundant.  In the case of Addis Ababa, foreign contacts interfered with the natural course of events.  Menelik had established that new capital in a forested section of the Entotto Hills.  Bout that time, foreigners began to take an interest in Ethiopia.  Many Greeks, Armenians, and Parsees built stores in the new town and several European governments erected legations.  The French started railway construction in its direction from the coast.  Then the trees began to disappear, and once more Abyssinian officials advocated the removal of the capital.  The foreigners objected because of the loss of their improvements.  The introduction of the eucalyptus solved the fuel problem and probably settled the location of the capital for all time.  In 1925, the city was in a forest of tall eucalyptus trees, none of which was more than 30 years old.  Addis Ababa was a straggling city.  The main streets were paved with boulders from 6 to 10 inches in diameter, and the two suburban roads along the base of the hill were surfaced with macadam.  Wheeled traffic was uncommon, most residents going on horseback.  It was a journey of an hour and a half from the American mission, on one edge of town, to the British Legation, on the other.  A fairly good road ran from the residence of Ras Taffari to that of the Empress, and several streets were passable to the half-dozen automobiles, which were limited to the city and to one road which was improved for some distance westward.  Over the country as a whole, there was no possibility of wheeled traffic of any kind.

To ride an automobile in the city was more or less an adventure.  The streets were always full of pedestrians, the pack ponies, unused to autos, would gollop wildly.  The store buildings were one- or two-story adobe and stone structures covered with galvanized-iron roofing.  The stocks of goods were small and inferior.  Besides the stores, there were the thousands of grass-roofed huts scattered about the hills, where the native population lived.  There was no electricity, no gas, no water or sewage systems, but there was a “movie.”  All the town went to the station in the evening when the train arrived from Jibuti.  The coaches were filled with all kinds and classes of people, who arrived weary and dirty.  It was only 500 miles from the coast, but the toy train had labored heavily for three days to accomplish the journey.  It ran only in daylight hours – a practice due to danger from the Somalis and Danakils, nomadic peoples of the semidesert, for it would not be difficult to remove a rail, plunder the wreak, and disappear in the darkness.  The harvest was coming on and the author had all too little time at Addis Ababa to make his arrangements.  Most of his personnel was secured on the recommendation of the British Legation and of his traveling companion, Dr. Lambie.  The author was told to have more than one interpreter and that they did not like each other.  Otherwise, one would be at the mercy of the interpreter.  Also, if a solo interpreter fell ill, one would have no means of communicating.  With his caravan the author brought along three men who spoke English, and one who spoke French.  The caravan consisted of about 40 men, including soldiers, of which there were usually 10.  The mules numbered 35 or 40, depending on how many soldiers they had at any moment.  The exact number of men was not known, for the servants had servants.

The organization of the caravan was nearly completed and they were about ready to leave Addis Ababa, when the author fell ill with fever.  For several days he was stricken and in the care of Dr. Lambie on the trip.  The first day, the author had to cling to the saddle to keep from falling off his mule.  That night, the boys did not know how to make the author’s bed.  They were at an elevation of 8,000 feet.  The wind swept down the hills through the tent, and all night the author was cold.  The plateau over which they were to travel for the next two months sloped upward from the low plains of the Sudan.  It rose gradually higher until the extreme eastern edge was reached.  There, it broke abruptly into a great escarpment, the first drop being one of 5,000 feet.  Its surface was cut by streams, the larger of which had eroded canyons of great depths.  The country was extremely mountainous due to that erosion.  Those canyons caused great difficulties in traveling.  They necessitated hazardous descents and climbs or time-consuming detours.  The villages on the higher plateau were often tucked away in the small canyons, which protected them from the fierce winds.  Many of those settlements were very picturesque, with their grass-thatched huts clustered in little shelves of the valley.  The second night, they camped beside a group of lakes covered with ducks, geese, and cranes.  The geese were almost tame enough to kill with a stick.  The first few days they rode over high plateaus, passing many fields of barley, wheat, and broad beans.  The grains were ripening.  The barley fields were as heavy with grain as those of southeastern Minnesota or the bay region of California, yet the methods of culture were very primitive.  Beyond Ankober, they saw the plowing for a new crop.  Plowmen and oxen stirred the ground for a depth of three inches.

The fifth day from Addis Ababa they rode trough rain at an elevation from 9,000 to 10,000 feet.  It was bitter cold, but the author had recovered and was not affected, and took pictures away from camp.  The sixth day out, they rode into Ankober, situated on a peak in the breaks of the eastern escarpments.  They sighted it hours before they arrived, but had to drop down thousands of feet, cross a stream, and reclimb to an almost equal elevation to reach it.  Ankober was founded by Amada Yesus about 1750.  It consisted of a needlelike peak surmounted by a citadel.  There were several lines of defense of a type perfected as a barrier to spearmen.  There were also three or four guardhouses on the path that led to the crest.  About the hill lied a few scattered huts and, on either side was a church.  The view from the peak at the corner of the plateau was magnificent.  The author visited the two churches, the first being quite new, while the second was probably 100 years old.  The Amharas belonged to the Coptic Church, a branch of the Christian faith.  The author was shown the sights of Ankober by a man who had been rifle-bearer to King Menelik.  He also escorted him along his route for a couple of hours the next day when they left Ankober.  They again dropped down to cross the stream, them climbed 2,000 feet straight up the face of the escarpment.  Three hours after leaving Ankober, they were among the barley fields again, with miles of level country before them.  Far to the northwest they could see Mount Tabor.  They camped at its foot 33 days later.  Beyond it laid Lake Tsana.  They could also see the high country which laid between them and Dessie, the next important town on their route.  They camped that night at 10,700 feet, the highest point of the trip.  They were again among ducks and geese.

After three days, they changed course.  They had been on the plateau for nine days.  They debated whether to stay on the plateau or see what was down over the escarpment.  They decided to drop, and drop they did – down, down for 14 days.  On the way to the edge of the escarpment they were having trouble finding the proper roads.  A local chieftain had joined them and had ridden with them across his territory.  He had a large retinue with him.  When they reached the limit of his district, the author asked him to send a guide with them.  He agreed and spoke to his followers.  Twenty of them took them all the way to their evening camp site.  For two days they had come across one pack train after another, all going in their direction.  They were loaded with grain.  When asked, the drivers said they were going to the Makfud market.  The author wished to visit the market since it was a good place to collect seeds.  Makfud was one of the names that was on all three of their maps.  They sent the caravan ahead while they made the detour to the market.  After three hours’ ride, they were surprised to find the “market” was a bare mountain top.  There was a large village an hour away which was on none of their maps, yet this place was on each.  The author came across other markets later – bare mountain tops like this one, with no villages about.  They were glad they came, for this was the point to which the people of the lowlands climbed one day each week to exchange cotton and other tropical products for the grain of those who descended from the plateau.  There, the author ran into problems with Abyssinian money.  Around the capital and the railroad, traffic was carried on much as elsewhere in the world.  Over most of Abyssinia that was not true, however.

The old Maria Theresa thaler of Austria was good everywhere, but the coin must be dated 1780 and the medallion on the empress’ dress must not be worn off by usage.  No date other than 1780 was acceptable.  All new coins bore that date.  With the fractional currency it was different.  The thaler was divided into 16 fractions, usually called tomauns.  Those were accepted in or near Addis Ababa.  Beyond Ankober they were not accepted.  At the Makfud market, the author selected 12 samples of grain and sacked them.  They weighed only a couple ounces each.  He offered one tomaun each, many times their value.  His offer was refused, the owners wanted cotton.  The author saw a merchant from Addis Ababa buying cotton and bought some from him to trade for his seeds.  Farther north, they used salt for minor payments.  Four bars of native salt sold for one thaler.  After leaving the Robi River valley to the north of Makfud, their road ran through a series of small valleys, not marked on their maps.  At the lower ends were salt marshes, while their upper ends were planted to almost continuous fields of grain sorghums.  Those sorghums were taller than Kafir corn and durra, about 18 feet.  The soil in those valleys was among the best the author saw in Abyssinia.  As they journeyed to the north, they found the Amhara villages withdrawn to the foot of the escarpment and those of the Gallas to a minor ridge, the valley in between becoming a “No Man’s Land.”  The Amharas descended from the plateau during the day to plant sorghum, and the Gallas from the ridge to herd cattle or plant a little.  At places, the old war of cattlemen against cultivators was in full swing, as it once was in our own West.  They received many warnings of trouble ahead.  They came across two caravans which had been attacked and plundered.

On December 19, they camped before Majetie, in a valley three hours from the town.  The chief sent word that they must come up near the village or they would be attacked before morning.  Farmers working near their camp site told them the same.  The soldiers sent with the caravan were poorly armed.  They decided it was not worth it to move, since they would be in the same situation once the left Majetie.  The author slept fully dressed with a shotgun, but nothing happened.  The difficulties due to unrest in the region were avoided by careful organization and contacts effected before the expedition left Addis Ababa.  The next morning when they broke camp there were many Abyssinians about.  Always the Abyssinians from nearby points came to see them break camp and they invariably carried arms.  Every Abyssinian carried a rifle; he may have no ammunition, but a rifle was a part of his dress.  When they had been an hour on the march, the caravan suddenly halted.  Some of the men ran back and told the author that a mule was missing.  It was the mule carrying the metal box with the photography equipment.  Leaving just enough men to hold the caravan together, they returned to the spot where the mule was last seen.  The mule was tracked through 18-foot sorghum and 8-foot grass and found tied to a tree with its mouth bound to prevent braying.  Fifty feet farther along was the steel box, which the robber had been unable to open.  Beyond Majetie they drifted along day after day through picturesque valleys, always with the escarpment to the right.  Their campsites often commanded most impressive mountain views.  The population was less dense and they usually pitched their tents in the shade of large trees.  One night, they camped above a salt marsh, where buffalo were supposed to roam.  They hunted but found none.

On another occasion, they camped in a valley occupied my Mohammedans.  That evening stood out for two reasons – the sunset and the hyenas.  The sunset was beautiful, and they sat for a long time watching the colors to the west.  It was followed by the hyenas.  One of the herdsmen had left a live cow among the trees 100 feet from their camp.  The hyenas found her about the time they went to bed.  The author never hoped to hear so much discordant noise in the same space of time.  The diabolical laughter of a dozen of the beasts seemed to taper off into hideous screeches.  The shouting of the repulsive brutes continued for an hour, until there was no more cow to wrangle over.  Later, in Dessie, the author passed a street three times within two hours.  On the first occasion, he saw a dead mule.  The second time he passed he saw the viscera and part of the hind quarters was gone.  On his return, less than an hour later, all traces of the animal were gone.  Some time later, while camped on the shores of Lake Tsana, he was disturbed one night by a dialogue between a dog belonging to one of the soldiers and a hyena 50 feet from the author’s tent.  On the last day before they reached Dessie they were continually off the trail.  At last, they found the main highway and camped in the government enclosure at Dessie the day before Christmas.  They had finished the worst sector of their trip.  The country ahead was more settled, and after Yedjo they would be on the plateau until the final dash to the Sudan.  They dined with Taro Auri, the chieftain, and his wife.  They were unaware that night had fallen when they recalled their other engagement.  They galloped down hills, across streams, and over open fields.  The home of Ras Cabada was situated upon the crest of a hill chosen for its strategic importance.

They passed through enclosure after enclosure, and at each encircling barrier they came upon bodies of armed troops standing at attention.  A sizable army was present for their reception.  The higher officials were gathered about the chieftain’s doorway.  Passing between rows of councilors in white robes, they were conducted into the presence of Ras Cabada and his wive.  The home of Ras Cabada was provided with chairs, a table, tableware, and many other innovations, and he very courteously attempted to give them a European meal.  There were six kinds of wine on the table, and there were numerous courses of well-cooked food.  They started with sweets and brandy, and ended with hors d’oeuvre, but the meal itself was good.  As it was their Christmas Day, it was doubly appreciated.  That morning, they had provided sports for the men.  Prizes were awarded to winners of the races and contests.  Afterwards they presented the men with a bull.  The bull was promptly slaughtered and the men proceeded to stuff themselves with the still warm raw meat.  Most meat was so consumed.  North of Dessie, they passed by Lake Haik.  The population was sparse and there were extensive remains of a juniper forest.  A few days later, they came into the prosperous district of Yedjo, with a better balance of agriculture than that of the territory through which they had just passed.  Its ruler, Dejasmatch Altimariam, was a merry old man with a delightful twinkle in his eye.  They turned west, and with one day’s march they were along the base of the escarpment.  They rested the mules for a day, and it was well they did, for that was the most arduous stage of the journey.  They started early and climbed for hours.  Finally, about noon, they came upon a flat bench at the foot of the last cliff.  After a brief halt they started up the last unit. Exhausted, they reach the top.

Again, they found themselves on the plateau, after 18 days on the lowlands of the east.  The water three feet from the edge of the escarpment flowed west.  Six hundred yards farther on, they camped at the headwaters of Takkazye River, among barley and emmer fields on a treeless plateau.  It was a tiny stream, but very far from where the Atbara joined the Nile.  That night, ice formed and remained until well after sunrise.  They hurried their journey down the Takkazye, as they wanted to be in Lalibela for the Abyssinian Christmas, January 7.  Their visit to Lalibela was the most interesting single incident of the trip.  It seemed unbelievable that a city so important in the religious life of a country could be so little known.  It was, in a way, the religious center of Abyssinia.  The natives referred to it as the Jerusalem of Ethiopia and had tried to reproduce many of the physical features of that holy city.  It was the great religious pilgrimage center of the Amharas.  The Christmas celebrations were the climax of the Coptic pageantry of Ethiopia, and thousands of believers came from all over the country and camped about the hills until every available site was occupied.  Yet, despite the importance of the city, not half a dozen Europeans had ever visited Lalibela [by 1925].  The author and Dr, Sewall were the first English-speaking people to visit it and the first outsiders to witness the Christmas celebrations.  The infrequency of visitors was all the more striking, because the place had been known for many centuries.  Francisco Alvarez, Portuguese missionary, wrote of its remarkable churches in 1520.  There had been one German and two French expeditions since that of Alvarez.  Ras Taffari had sent word ahead that they were coming, and to extend them courtesies.  When they arrived, the head priest awaited them on an open hillside with scores of his priests as background.

The priests were dressed in their most elaborate costumes – blue, red, purple, and other colored cloth embroidered in gold.  Gold and silver crosses of large size abounded.  After the preliminary songs, greetings, and prayers for their safety were over, the priests danced for them.  They then entered the village to see the churches – ten great monolithic buildings cut from a single stone ledge of red volcanic tuff.  Each church was made by first excavating a courtyard of ample dimensions, leaving in the center a great block of stone, three-stories tall.  In that rock the building was carved with the final effect of a modern stone or concrete structure.  The doorways were just as perfect, the walls as true, and the windows as numerous as if the churches were built of brick.  Inside there were pillars, and between them were arches dropping below the ceiling.  There were altars, alcoves, and galleries.  Yet the whole was from a single rock; they were of one piece from entrance to altar and from altar to roof.  It was difficult to photograph inside the churches.  The churches were in deep holes, and parts were in continuous shadow.  Inside was much worse.  To photograph one cross in a church, the author had two men hold candles and exposed the film for several minutes.  The largest of the churches was Medani Alam.  The arched design of the interior was constructed as a relief on the roof.  There were two groups of churches one of five and the other of four buildings, while the church of St, George stood alone.  Between the courtyards were walls 6 to 15 feet wide.  In some, rooms were hollowed in the partitions, and in one a church had been excavated.  One of the most beautiful of the churches was that of St. George.  It formed a cross with a cross carved upon the roof.  St. George seemed to be the patron saint of Ethiopia, with countless churches.

Years of travel in the tropics caused on to lose his fears of contracting diseases.  They were looked upon from a fatalistic and unemotional viewpoint.  Wandering among the crowds of lepers did not perturb them, but another event was not so pleasant.  The high priest led them down through a trap door in the floor of one of the churches, to an underground tunnel which represented hell.  The tunnel was a low, narrow, vaulted passageway which extended some hundreds of feet before it came to the surface again.  To show the undesirability of hell, all the candles were extinguished, and they felt there way along the walls in absolute darkness for many minutes.  That experience was one of the major trills to the pilgrims, and the walls were grimed by thousands of hands that had felt their way through.  Many of those hands were deformed by leprosy and scores of others bore infectious ulcers and other ailments.  Lalibela’s Christmas morning came.  The festivities began early.  The crowds had assembled log before they arrived, but space was reserved for them on the wall surrounding Mascali Jesus, the church where the celebration was to take place.  A procession of priests, dancing and singing, encircled the wall, while a second detachment marched through the courtyard of the church.  Of the 30,000 pilgrims who came to witness the rite, not more than 1,000 saw the whole pageant.  The marching priests were led by three youths with leather whips.  They used them to clear a path through the crowd.  When the author first arrived at the village, he was mobbed by the curious.  The high priest assigned some men with whips to the author to assure that he could go unmolested during his three-day stay.  The costumes were even more gorgeous than on the day they arrived.  The procession took fully two hours to encircle the church.

When the music stopped, the author made hasty adieus and rushed to his mules to get out of town ahead of the crowd.  Thirty thousand Abyssinians did the same thing.  They had sent their caravan on ahead and galloped down the mountain toward the Takkazye after it.  They caught up with it in about three hours.  They passed many more people than they thought possible.  Even after they camped by the river, miles away, they came in uninterrupted files.  In the afternoon, occasional breaks occurred in the lines, growing more frequent toward night.  Hundreds of people camped beside them that night, and for days the author saw them, traveling light, soon outstripping him.  Many joined their caravan and camped with them all the way to Debra Tabor, and some even to Gondar.  It took a couple of days to digest their observation of Lalibela.  The crowds had been too dense for careful exploration of the churches and it had been difficult to take photographs.  They did get a clue as to the choice of the site.  Salt water in the recesses weakened the rock in that region, making it easier to carve out.  Mineral and hot springs were common throughout Ethiopia.  As to who engineered the rock churches, they could not guess.  They were ascribed to Lalibela, who reigned in the twelfth century.  They were unlike anything else built in Abyssinia, and may have been built with help from the Coptic church-builders of Egypt.  They were soon back in the routine of travel and Lalibela was far behind them.  The road to Debra Tabor was an old, well-traveled one, with plenty of game along the way.  At Debra Tabor, they called upon Ras Gougsa, the husband of the Empress, who for reasons of state was not allowed to come to Addis Ababa.  Soon after leaving that town, they came in sight of Lake Tsana, the headwaters of the Blue Nile.

Near the lake, they first came upon remains of structures built by the Portuguese, who, after being established at Gondar for more than a hundred years, were expelled by Fasilidas in the years 1632 to 1635.  During the time of their occupancy, they built much and built well.  They crossed bridges that had received no care in 300 years but were still structurally strong.  In Gondar itself they saw the only well-constructed buildings in Abyssinia, other than the monolithic churches.  They had not been occupied for centuries, but some of them could, even now [in 1925], be made habitable by replacing the burned floors and roofs.  In one or two, the beamed ceilings were still in place.  Gondar, now [in 1925] a village, must have been a great city in its prime.  There was a vast area of tumbled stone, overgrown with brush, where the less important personages lived, and there was another area of beautiful stone walls, remains of churches, monasteries, and the ruins of medieval castles, where officials were housed.  It was an imposing sight to look over the blocks and walls toward the large castle, which still reared its towers against the sky, hundreds of miles from navigable water or railhead.  It must have been a long journey from Portugal when the city was founded.  The story of its construction was lost in the nebulous traditions which surrounded Abyssinian history.  No Abyssinian mind conceived those buildings and no Abyssinian supervised their construction.  From Gondar, they took the road to Gallabat, just over the border in the Sudan, by way of Chelga and Wahni.  Due to the sparce population, game was abundant, but they did not hunt except when meat was needed.  As food, they preferred birds, which were plentiful the whole distance.  The men of the author’s caravan required a greater meat supply.

When cattle and sheep were not available, they shot game for them.  The Christians could not eat meat of animals killed by Mohammedans and vice versa.  Neither could eat meat killed by the two travelers, unless they could reach it while it was still struggling and could cut its throat in the name of Mohammed or the Savior, as the case might be.    The day before they reached Gallabat, all hand fell to and washed and scrubbed for the morrow.  The next morning their caravan, managed by servants in spotless white, got underway.  The countryside felt the urge of a parade.  Soldier after soldier joined their escort.  They came flocking in from every side trail.  By the time they reached Metemma, on the Abyssinian side of the boundary from Gallabat, they had all the appearance of an invading force.  The natives under officers of Gallabat ran to their commanders, saying, “What shall wee do?  This man brings an army!”  How their hearts sank when they sighted the iron roofs of Gallabat!  There was a telegraph line; a broad road ran up the hill; two days beyond by auto was a railroad – several days up the Nile from Cairo, it was true – but a railroad.  Their caravaning was over.

 

 

The second article in this month’s issue is entitled “Black-Headed Gulls in London – Aces of Aviation” and was written by A. H. Hall.  It has the shorter internal title: “Black-Headed Gulls in London.”  This short article contains one page of text followed by eight pages of black-and-white photographs taken by the author, two per page, for a total of sixteen.

The winter of 1894-95 was exceptionally severe in London, and some black-headed gulls, driven to the haunts of man by the difficulty of obtaining food elsewhere, visited the Thames.  The inhabitants treated the birds kindly and fed them liberally, and, in succeeding winters, the visitors came back in increasing numbers.  In the early years of the twentieth century, it was quite the vogue to go down to Westminster Bridge, the Embankment, and London Bridge, and purchase two-penny bags of sprats from itinerant venders, who did a flourishing business on fine days.  The birds exhibited remarkable aptitude in catching the small fish in midair, and showed amazing audacity.  The author had even witnessed a man catch a gull by the legs as it hovered, ready to take a sprat held in the fingers.  The gulls gradually increased in numbers, and not only frequented the Thames, where, in 1925, they were found as far west as Winsor, but also invaded the ponds and open waters of the London parks.  During the World War, the birds were somewhat neglected, but still obtained a better living on the Thames than in wilder districts, though the ponds were drained because they were landmarks used by hostile aircraft.  After the war those sheets of water were restored, and birds returned in great numbers.  Office workers made it a practice to feed the gulls scraps at lunchtime, so that a large flock succeeded in obtaining an easy livelihood from October to March.  The gulls were so quick and bold that ducks on the waters of the parks stood poor chance of getting any scraps from the stroller.  As a study in problems of flight, those birds on the wing were of unusual interest.  Their remarkable control and the way several individuals would dash without a collision for the same morsel of food were sources of constant amusement and comment.

In 1925, there were no supplies of sprats readily available, and though, like all gulls, they were omnivorous, and readily ate the stale bread that was usually supplied, they showed a marked partiality for cheese, being quite eager for that as for fish.  The birds vary greatly in boldness.  Those which came first to the bait are attended by numbers of others, which fluttered a few feet off and screamed their disappointment at not getting the food also.  It was very noticeable what a difference a drop of a few degrees would make.  One mild day would see the gulls greedy, but somewhat discreet; the next day, with a lower temperature, they would be absolutely ravenous.  Gulls would take cheese close to one’s face, but not if in a small tin box.  To photograph those birds in flight was entertaining, but very difficult.  The fastest exposure was necessary, and when too many gulls came into field of view, the picture was usually spoiled by confusion of detail.  It was worth noting, in the accompanying illustrations, pages 665 to 672, that many of the postures are very different from the conventional attitudes depicted by artists.

 

 

The third article in this month’s issue is entitled “To Seek the Unknown in the Arctic” and has no byline.  This editorial has the internal subtitle: “United States Navy Flyers to Aid MacMillan Expedition Under the Auspices of the National Geographic Society in Exploring Vast Area.”  The article contains one black-and-white photograph which is not full-page in size.  It also contains a sketch map on page 674 of Northern Canada and Greenland with an inset of Ellesmere Island.

Sketch Map courtesy of Philip Riviere

Within a few days of when the members received their copies of this issue, an Arctic expedition under the auspices of the National Geographic Society would sail from Wiscasset, Maine, for Etah, Greenland.  During the summer months, it was hoped that many thousand square miles of hitherto-unexplored area north of Beauford Sea would be revealed to the world by geographers bearing the Stars and Stripes.  With the approval of President Coolidge and the Hon. Curtis D. Wilbur, Secretary of the Navy, that work was to be undertaken by the MacMillan Arctic Expedition, with the cooperation of the U. S. Navy.  The Board of Trustees of the National Geographic Society had appropriated $40,000 from the Research Fund to aid in defraying the expenses.  The leader, Donald B. MacMillan, had been active in Arctic exploration since 1908, when he was one of Peary’s lieutenants on the expedition that reached the North Pole, April 6, 1909.  The MacMillan party will go north on two ships – the Peary, a converted French trawler, and the Bowdoin, a staunch craft which had carried Commander MacMillan to the Far North on two previous expeditions.  By invitation of the city of Boston, the vessels would sail from that port for Wiscasset on June 17, Bunker Hill Day.  The trawler Peary would be used primarily to transport the U. S. Navy’s Loening amphibian airplanes, capable of landing both on water and on ice.  The operation of the planes and Navy personnel would be under the direction of Lieutenant Commander R. E. Byrd, U. S. N.  The Navy was holding in readiness its two great airships, the Shenandoah and the Los Angeles, to send to the relief of the expedition should it encounter unforeseen difficulties.  On board the Bowdoin would be a group of scientists, including an ichthyologist, a geologist, and a meteorologist.

The unexplored area, which it was hoped could be penetrated by means of airplane, with bases established on Axel Heiberg Island, lied between the Alaska Peninsula and the North Pole, and was shown on maps and globes by a white spot representing about one million square miles of the earth’s surface.  Other unknown areas where exploration would be made included central Ellesmere Island ad Grant Land, the northern part of the Greenland ice cap, the northern part of Labrador, and the entire interior of Baffin Island.  The headquarters of the expedition would be established at Etah.  From that base, gasoline and other supplies could be relayed to Cape Thomas Hubbard, Axel Heiberg Island, at the edge of the Polar Sea, for use by the Navy’s amphibian aircraft.  From Cape Hubbard to the center of the great unknown area was, roughly, 600 miles – a distance which could be accomplished by an airplane having a cruising radius of 1.200 miles.  It was hoped that, by using extra fuel tanks, the amphibian planes can cover that distance in one continuous flight.  Through the courtesy of the Government of Denmark, to whom Greenland belonged, the MacMillan party would be permitted to study the remains of old Norse settlements established in the southern portion of the island some 1,500 years prior.  It was estimated that there were 100 farms of early Norsemen and some stone churches built by the Norsemen in the vicinity of Godthaab.  The reason for studying those ruins was to establish a connection between the Norse houses and those found in Labrador, which according to the Eskimos, were built by “strange people, who came in from the sea in open boats without masts and without sails.”

Commander MacMillan would report all findings of the expedition by radio in telegraphic code to the National Geographic Society, and the news would be given immediately to the world through the daily press by the Society.  In receiving the coded messages from the Far North, the cooperation of American radio amateurs would be relied upon.  Efforts would be made to have the spoken word from the expedition leader broadcast to American homes.  The transmission of radio messages, during the 24 daylight hours, across a hitherto “dead zone,” by the new short wavelengths, would constitute, in itself, an experiment in communication of scientific value.  Provisions were being made for photographing the wonders of the Far North.  For the first time in Arctic exploration, natural-color photographs would be made.  It was believed that those color plates of marine life, the flora, including the beautiful “red snow,’ and the experiments to record photographically the Northern Lights, would prove valuable contributions to science.  Commander MacMillan’s detailed accounts of the work of the expedition would appear in the National Geographic Magazine shortly after the leader’s return to civilization.

 

 

The fourth and final article in this month’s issue is entitled “The “Bowdoin” in North Greenland” and was written by Donald b MacMillan, Leader of the MacMillan arctic Expedition, under the auspices of the National Geographic Society, 1925; Author of “Peary as a Leader,” in the National Geographic Magazine.  The article, a sister to the previous editorial, is the author’s account of his most recent Arctic expedition.  It has an internal subtitle: “Arctic Explorers Place Tablet to Commemorate Sacrifices of the Lady Franklyn Bay Expedition.”  The article contains forty-nine black-and-white photographs, twenty-five of which are full-page in size.  One of these full-page photos serves as the frontispiece for this article.

One of the objectives of the Bowdoin on the Arctic Expedition of 1923-1924 was Cape Sabine, on the eastern shore of Ellesmere Island, where, at the request of the National Geographic Society, they placed a tablet in memory of the Lady Franklyn Bay Expedition who died there of starvation in the spring of 1884.  The Bowdoin, named after the author’s college, was built on the Maine coast especially for Arctic work.  Although the smallest vessel ever to go into the Far North, she was one of the strongest having been built of well-seasoned timber, oak-ribbed, oak-planked, covered with a five-foot belt of ironwood, and a 1,700-pound steel plate on her stem to take the brunt of her battle with ice floes.  They sailed form Wiscasset, Maine, June 23, 1923, and after a voyage of minor adventures, the Bowdoin rounded Cape Alexander and sighted Etah at midnight of August 7, with the sun bathing every promontory and ice cap in a soft yellow light.  The bold north shore, with its gentle green slope culminating in its 1,000-foot cliff, was beautiful.  The waters of the fjord, placid as a mirror, reflected the contour of the bordering hills.  The hush of midnight, which stole quietly as the sun swung along the northern horizon, was broken only by the sound of falling waters.  The site of their home of 1913-1917, a large building, was [in 1923] a flat, debris-covered slope of pathetic scraps.  The morning after their arrival they left Etah for Cape Sabine, 30 miles distant.  Open water extended apparently to the Pole itself.  When within 10 miles of Cape Sabine, however, ice seemed to pop out of the sea, and laid in one solid jam against Ellesmere Island from Cape Isabella northward.  Running along its edge, they examined the drift ice for open water; it presented an unbroken front.  The author decided to return to Etah and wait for more favorable opportunity to erect the memorial.

Upon the northern side of Cape Sabine was the site of the Greely Cap of 1883-84.  The 23 officers and enlisted men of the Lady Franklyn Bay Expedition, with two Eskimos, under the command of Lieutenant Adolphus W. Greely, landed at Wade Point, 16 miles southwest of Cape Sabine, following their retreat in boats from Fort Conger, 220 miles north.  It was there that they fully expected to meet the relief ship sent by the U. S. Government.  A note left in a cairn at Cape Sabine advised them that the relief ship had been crushed in the ice, but a cache of supplies had been landed.  The party decided to abandon Wade Point to settle beside the cache, where a second ship would naturally seek them.  Then began the long, hopeless fight against cold, darkness, and starvation.  When the sun returned on March 12, after an absence of five months, only one ma had died, but six died in April, four more in May, and seven in June.  When Schley reached their camp on June 22, there were only seven survivors.  No tablet or memorial had ever been erected to those soldiers of the U. S. Army, who died upon the field of honor.  But, in the hold of the Bowdoin, they were bringing a beautiful bronze tablet to be erected at Cape Sabine by the National Geographic Society.  They established their winter quarters in Refuge Harbor, an ideal location, which had been used by the Kane Expedition of 1853-55.  There. They began unloading the Bowdoin on August 18, and on Sunday, August 19, they telegraphed their arrival and that they were in good health.  The Harbor froze and thawed repeatedly through September, until September 22, when it froze over for the winter.  By October 18, the hills were white with snow and the harbor ice was strong enough to bear the men safely.  The Bowdoin was in her ice cradle for the winter.

The sun had been on its long journey south since June 21, each day a little shorter and each night a little longer, and finally the day arrived, October 25, when it bade them goodbye for 117 days, not to return until February 18, 1924.  Contrary to popular belief, it was not dark throughout that period, but, while their nights were dark, their days were twilight during the whole time.  Looking at temperatures of 60 degrees below zero, they surrounded their little ship with three feet of packed snow.  Three snow houses were built on deck over the hatches.  The Bowdoin was so well protected by the wall of snow that their quarters were always dry and comfortable.  With 12 tons of coal beneath their floor, and plenty of fuel for their oil stove, they were very happy through the long, dark period.  People wondered how they spent their time during the Arctic night.  First, the Bowdoin was electrically lighted.  Second, they were provided with a good library, musical instruments, and games.  Third, and best of all, was their radio.  Upon leaving home, the author had little hope that the radio would work so far from civilization.  Since they could only transmit using only 100 watts, their voiced were not heard in the States, but receiving was a different matter.  Every Wednesday, they listened to their friends broadcast from Chicago.  They never failed to pick up that station from October through January.  They often recognized their friends’ voices.  On several occasions, the author heard his sister’s voice distinctly.  Sunday nights, they heard Bible readings, sermons, and choirs singing hymns.  The four stations that were most consistently heard were Calgary, Canada; Chicago; Davenport, Iowa; and Omaha, Nebraska.  They telegraphed 32,000 words, received chiefly by Jack Barnsley, Prince Rupert, B. C.  They received 100,000 words from America, England, and Germany.

Their operator, with typewriter in front and phones on his ears, typed the news, and every night as the went to supper, there, on their dining table, laid the daily news sheet.  On Christmas and New Year’s, they received many messages from their relatives and friends at home, including on from A. W. Greely.  Because of their meteorological observations for the U. S. Government, and their magnetic work for the Department of Terrestrial Magnetism, Carnegie Institute, they were regular in their habits, having breakfast at 9, dinner at 3, and supper at 8 in the evening.  Nearly every man exercised regularly, walking far from the ship, repairing the snow wall, shoveling snow, tending the dogs, snowshoeing, and skiing.  They tired around midnight and were up by 8:30 in the morning.  Much had been written about the long period of darkness, but very little had been written about the long, moonlit periods of each month, when the moon came above the horizon and remained there continuously.  It swung around a great circle over their heads, ten days each month.  During those times, they traveled hundreds of miles with their dogs to visit the Eskimos in their homes to the south.  The nearest village was Nerky, 60 miles by sleigh route to the south on Inglefield Bay.  As soon as the Eskimos learned that they were wintering at Refuge Harbor, visitors were coming and going throughout the winter.  All were eager to hear the strange voiced coming through the air, and to see their 20,000 feet of motion pictures showing the wonders of civilized life.  Since they had failed the preceding summer to reach Cape Sabine, 30 miles to the Northwest, on the shores of Ellesmere Island, their first duty in the spring was to place the bronze memorial in the center of the Greely Camp.  Early in May, the author left the ship to examine the condition of the ice and to select a place for the tablet.

They crossed Smith Sound in seven hours, and reached the site of the Greely Camp in a blinding snowstorm.  The remains of the rock hut could still be seen projecting from the snow.  Walking through the little valley to Cemetery Ridge, where many bodies were found by the relief party in the spring of 1884, they came upon the ring of rock which had held down the tents of the staring men.  A bare spot in the vicinity was still littered with the remains of their camp.  Stretching southward from the cape to the very horizon a large body of water.  A return trip of eight hours brought them back to their ship at Refuge Harbor.  Their time spent crossing the Sound with dog teams was of special interest, since it took the Hayes party of 1861 31 days to cross.  Had Greely had dogs, the results might had been better.  They could have crossed to Greenland and lived with the natives.  A few weeks later, they crossed again with four dog teams.  The tablet was landed in the center of the camp, where they bolted it to a 100-ton boulder.  The work completed they covered it with the American flag.  The next day they unveiled it in the presence of the Eskimos, and told them to inform their children that the tablet must remain forever, in honor of the men who died there so many years ago.  The Eskimos promised to always protect it.  A few weeks later they left the ship again, their objective being Eureka Sound, some 200 miles to the west, in search of the musk ox, more like a buffalo than any other animal.  The range of that animal extended to the very edge of the Polar Sea, as far as land went.  Upon their visit to Cape Morris Jesup, the northernmost point of land in the world, 380 nautical miles from the Pole, they found great herds of those animals roaming the hills.  Their enemy was the white wolf, whose tracks were seen wherever musk oxen were found.

After struggling with deep snow and reaching Victoria Head with considerable difficulty, they emerged upon the smooth ice fields of Flagler Fjord, over which they galloped toward the pass leading between the high mountains of Ellesmere Island to Bay Fjord.  As they proceeded through the valleys of the island’s western shores, they encountered a glacier blocking their path.  It had not been there in 1911.  With difficulty, they squeezed between the face of the glacier and the slope of the hills.  At the other end of the glacier the lowered the sledges with ropes, harnessed the dogs, and, with a sigh of relief, drove westward.  They emerged upon the ice of Bay Fjord in a violent gale.  Dogs and sledges were repeatedly blown sideways for hundreds of yards.  It was a fight to regain the north side of the fjord, where they planned to camp for the night.  The next morning the dogs galloped westward before a strong wind to a better sledging surface lightly covered with snow, upon which they discovered polar bear tracks.  After a few hours without sighting a bear, one of the men looked over his shoulder and saw an animal following them.  It was an enormous snow-white wolf.  As there was only one specimen of that animal in any museum in the world, they were anxious to add it to their trophies.  Since wolves were wary, it was a problem.  They were always equipped with a seal screen.  They set one up and had one of the Eskimos crouch behind it with a rifle.  When the party began moving again the wolf, a half mile back and waiting, followed at the same pace.  The plan worked.  When the wolf was within 20 yards, the Eskimo fired.  A second shot brought down the beast.  They sent back the other Eskimo with a sledge to collect the kill.  It measured 6 inches higher and 6 inches longer than their largest dog, and weight at least 125 pounds.

While examining the wolf, a herd of 15 musk oxen was spotted grazing about a half mile up a small valley.  They headed for the nearest point of land, and pitched camp to await more favorable lighting for motion pictures.  That was the real objective of the western expedition.  No one had ever filmed that strange animal, which came down from a period 500,000 years ago.  The next noon, the sun shone brightly.  They proceeded up the valley, but no musk oxen were found.  Tracks led over the hills to the west.  After traveling an hour, they ascended a high hill.  Using binoculars, a Eskimo spotted the herd sleeping on top of a distant hill.  When they reached the base of the hill where the animals were resting, they tethered most of the dogs to a boulder.  It was necessary to have a few dogs to hold the musk oxen at bay while they were being photographed.  Since those animals charged with rapidity, they selected five of the most active dogs.  On reaching the crest of the hill, the huge beasts were in full view.  They released the dogs, and they shot away at full speed.  They followed slowly with the camera equipment.  The great shaggy mass instantly jumped to their feet and formed a circle, heads out, tails in, and horns lowered.  In several books on the Arctic, it stated that musk oxen were intelligent and soldier-like, forming perfect hollow squares and charging the enemy.  The motion pictures showed that they were simply a huddle mass without formation.  They charged without order, but retreated immediately, lest they be cut off from the herd.  Mothers and calves were not in the center, protected by an encircling line of bulls.  All, even the little ones, faced toward the point of attack.  Musk ox meat was considered the most delicious in the Far North.  It tasted like good beef, or mutton.  As large as a buffalo, the animal was small when the coat was removed.

Having no desire to repeat their experience between the glacier and the mountain, they agreed to a return trip over the top of the ice cap of Ellesmere Island, 4,000 feet altitude.  That route was taken by the author in 1914 and in 1916.  They soon encountered snow of such depth that sledging was difficult.  They plodded on and upward for three days, hoping to find better conditions.  Dogs and men were exhausted at the end of each day.  They encountered a hill that they almost did not scale.  The next day they encountered even worse sledging conditions.  They decided to give up the new route and return to the head of Bay Fjord, and go home by the old route, despite the danger of falling ice.  The warm sun of the past few days had turned much snow into a mushy mess.  All snow was gone from the river bed; they had tough going over bare ground and rock for two days to reach the head of Flagler Fjord.  With genuine relief, they drove onto the hard ice of the fjord.  They had not only left land and rocks behind, but were now in touch with seals sunning themselves on the ice.  Their dogs had not been fed for five days.  Within two hours, two seals had been shot and the dogs had eaten their fill.  In the warm sunlight they sat contently around the boiling pot of hearts, livers, and tenderloins.  Upon reaching the mouth of Flagler Fjord, they were surprised to see a great expanse of open water.  It compelled them t travel on the ice foot close to land, watching for a chance to cross to the solid ice of Buchanan Bay.  The water was dotted with ducks, sea pigeons, and gulls.  Making a bridge of ice cakes brought by the incoming tide, they succeeded in reaching the bay ice, which stretched continuously for 80 miles to the little Bowdoin, in Refuge Harbor.  Once through the deep snow of Buchanan Bay, they drove rapidly over the hard, blue ice of Smith Sound.

They reached Point Cairn, half a mile from the ship, at midnight on June 1.  Again, they were delayed by open water caused by tides swirling out of Kane Basin.  Leaving their sledges on the ice foot on the back side of the point, and leading their tired dogs, they ascended the rocky hills that surrounded the harbor.  Upon reaching a familiar ice point 500 feet above the ship, the dogs wagged their tails and bounded away.  The ship presented a welcome picture to them.  The three snow houses upon the decks had melted away, the protecting snow wall had fallen – summer had come.  Every good day was now utilized in hunting seal and walrus, and in packing away meat for the following winter, since there was a chance that their harbor would not melt out and they would be detained for a second year.  Trips were planned to Littleton Island, 15 miles to the south, where they often picked up 4,000 fresh eider ducks’ eggs in three hours.  Some 36 kinds of birds returned to the Far North in May, and left in September.  Tey furnished them with an abundance of food.  In July, all southern slopes were green with grass and covered with flowers.  Botanists had collected more than 700 different kinds of flowers in the Far North; in fact, flowers were found just as far north as land went – 380 miles from the North Pole.  On July 29, they hoisted their flag and decided to try to break through the harbor ice, where they had been imprisoned for 330 days.  Just before they started off, the wind changed directions, and the harbor ice moved some 14 feet to the north. Attempting to round a point of ice, they touched atop a pinnacle of rock.  Despite every effort, they could not dislodge the ship.  Realizing that upon reaching low tide the ship would fall on its side and sink, they ran masthead lines to the cliffs and anchored to the port side to hold it on an even keen.

Their plan worked for five hours, then the ropes snapped.  Away went the ship down upon her port side.  Water poured over her rail and splashed against the cabin house.  Two men fell into the icy waters.  They quickly swam to safety.  Realizing the ship might sink on the next flood tide, they relieved her of all possible weight.  They dropped both anchors under the bow, emptied all water tanks, and cleared the hold.  As a further precaution, they sealed up every porthole and caulked the after companionway.  As a result of the fall, one plank was crushed on the ship’s port side.  The next day, they deliberately pulled the ship over on its starboard side.  That resulted in two more crushed planks, but, since the bottom was reinforced with 22 tons of cement, that would not materially affect the safety of their voyage home.  On August 1, they succeeded in floating the ship and, with 15 Eskimos and 75 dogs, started for the harbor mouth.  When they were within 30 yards of the entrance, a huge iceberg came sailing with the wind and tide and blocked the harbor completely.  With ice-saws, they worked for three hours upon a neck of ice impinging upon the berg.  Then, at full speed, the Bowdoin bucked that neck, cracked it, and slowly worked out through the mass of drift ice beyond.  At last, they were free, having been prisoners since September of the preceding year.  The violence of the wind was such that they should have anchored under the first protected cape.  Glad to be out, however, they bucked at full speed into a heavy head sea for 15 miles to Etah.  Nearly all the Eskimos were seasick.  Anchoring at Etah, they found the Eskimos busy on the cliffs, netting little auks, which swarmed in the millions.  Those graced many a feast during the winter, when they were eaten raw and uncleaned.

As they proceeded south, dropping the Eskimos and their dogs at different villages, they encountered only one field of ice – in Melville Bay – which was easily negotiated.  They coasted down the Greenland shore, calling at Disko, Egedesminde, Holstensborg, and Godthaab.  At Godthaab, they were royally entertained.  There, the Eskimos gave them an exhibition of their mastery of their kayaks, rolling over in them, hanging head-down in the water, and even spinning over and over.  They left Godthaab for Labrador with the Round-the-World Flyers.  The ship came across in two and a half days; the planes flew the 560 miles from Ivigtut in about 7 hours.  Their trip from Labrador to Wiscasset, Maine, was without incident, except for two gales of wind, one off Newfoundland, and the other off Halifax, Nova Scotia.  They reached Wiscasset on September 20 and were greeted by 6,000 people who had gathered from all New England to welcome the little Bowdoin back to her home port.

 

 

Tom Wilson