Part 3: The Expedition That Almost Ended Amundsen’s Journey to the South Pole
- A Tale from Hardangervidda
As we prepare for our guided winter hikes to Trolltunga starting March 1st, we share the final chapter of Roald Amundsen’s intense journey across Hardangervidda. This snowy wilderness shaped one of history’s greatest explorers — and now you can experience the same raw, breathtaking beauty on your own adventure.
“He called out for me, but I did not respond. He then began frantically searching for some kind of sign that could show where I had gone.”
Roald Amundsen’s route across Hardangervidda National Park — with Trolltunga located on the western edge of this vast plateau. Thankfully, our winter tour to Trolltunga is much shorter and far safer, thanks to modern equipment and experienced guides.
I was now almost paralyzed with fear. In my panic, I naturally assumed that he, too, had been frozen inside the wet snow and was in the same situation as I was. If a thaw did not come immediately, we would both soon be frozen to death in our grim icy tombs.
I soon stopped shouting, as it became difficult to breathe properly. I also realized that I had to remain still if I was not to suffocate. I do not know if it was a lack of air or something else that caused me to either fall asleep or lose consciousness rather quickly. But when I came to again, I heard a faint sound in the distance. My companion had, after all, not been trapped. The only reason he had not, like me, dug himself down was probably that he had been too exhausted the previous evening to care. However it happened, he ended up saving our lives.
When he woke up and looked around, he found himself alone in a snowfield. He called out for me, but I did not respond. He then began frantically searching for some kind of sign that could show where I had gone. There was only one, and by chance, his eyes fell on it, some hairs from my sleeping bag were visible in the snow. He immediately began digging me out of my prison, using both his hands and a ski pole. The work took him three hours.
“We had been walking for two hours with my companion in the lead when he suddenly vanished as if the earth had swallowed him up. ”
Portrait of Roald Amundsen, the first person to set foot on the South Pole, winning the race against Robert Falcon Scott. Amundsen gained invaluable experience from his journey across Hardangervidda, which prepared him for his legendary expedition to the South Pole.
We were both quite weak now. It was still nighttime when he finally got me out, but we were too shaken to sleep any longer. Even though it was still dark, the sky was clear, so we were able to find our direction by following the stars. We had been walking for two hours with my companion in the lead when he suddenly vanished as if the earth had swallowed him up. Instinctively, I understood that he had fallen over a precipice, and instinctively, I also acted to save myself—I threw myself flat on the ground. A moment later, I heard his voice:
“Don’t move. I’ve fallen over a cliff.”
He had fallen about 30 feet down, but fortunately landed on his back, so his sleeping bag had cushioned the impact. The only consequence of the fall was his shock. Naturally, we did not attempt to continue until daylight. When dawn broke, we pressed on with our seemingly hopeless journey.
It had now been four days since we had eaten anything at all, and the two preceding days, when we had survived on the thin gruel, had hardly provided us with any real nourishment. We were nearly spent. The only thing that kept us from completely collapsing was that we could continually find drinking water. On the plateau, there were many small lakes connected by little streams, and in these, we could drink enough to fill our stomachs—this saved us from starving to death.
“It had now been four days since we had eaten anything at all, and the two preceding days, when we had survived on the thin gruel, had hardly provided us with any real nourishment.”
Towards evening, we came across a small barn full of hay. Around it, there were ski tracks. This discovery renewed our spirits, as it proved that we must be near habitation. It gave us hope that if we could just keep going for another day, we would reach safety. In the hay, we rested well. We dug ourselves deep into it and lay there the entire night.
The next morning, I set out to find out where we were. My companion was now so exhausted that he could go no further, so I let him remain in the hay while I followed the ski tracks. After walking for about an hour, I spotted a man in the distance. I concluded that he was a farmer out on his morning round, checking his ptarmigan snares. I called out loudly to him. He looked utterly terrified, and to my great disappointment, he took off running as fast as he could.
“No doubt, the farmer first believed that I was a ghost wandering the desolate plateau.”
These solitary mountain farmers are superstitious. Brave as they are when facing tangible dangers, they suffer from an intense fear of the things their imagination conjures up. No doubt, the farmer first believed that I was a ghost wandering the desolate plateau.
The best feeling! Finally standing at Trolltunga on our guided winter hike — on a perfect winter day with weather far kinder than anything Amundsen faced during his tough trek across Hardangervidda on cross country skis.
I shouted again, putting my entire soul into the cry. The tone must have revealed my despair, for the man stopped, hesitated for a moment, then turned and came toward me. I explained our desperate situation and asked where we were. It was a little difficult for me to understand his explanation, and even when I did, I could hardly believe my own ears, for it turned out that we were no more than an hour’s walk from the Mogen farm, from where we had set out on our unfortunate journey eight days earlier.
Overjoyed by this revelation, I hurried back to my companion. The news lifted his spirits as well, so shortly thereafter, we descended without much difficulty into the small valley and reached the familiar farm. We knocked on the door and were invited inside. I was a bit surprised by the reception—until I later caught sight of myself in the mirror.
In the house’s only room, the women were spinning while the men were engaged in wood carving. They looked up kindly but greeted us only with a brief “Good day,” in a completely impersonal yet questioning manner. It was clear they did not recognize us. That was hardly surprising, as I later realized - our faces covered in stubble, our cheeks sunken, and our eyes deeply recessed in their sockets, we must have looked absolutely dreadful.
“At first, they refused to believe us when we explained that we were the two young men who had left them eight days earlier. There was nothing in these two gaunt specters standing before them that resembled their former guests.”
At first, they refused to believe us when we explained that we were the two young men who had left them eight days earlier. There was nothing in these two gaunt specters standing before them that resembled their former guests. Eventually, however, we convinced them, and they then treated us with the utmost kindness.
After staying with them for a couple of days and regaining our strength, we left with deep gratitude and made our way safely back to Oslo.
– –
“Just think! Without knowing it, we had been only a few meters from our destination and had turned back to cross the plateau again — after being just minutes away from a safe refuge on the western side.”
The continuation of the story came to me only a couple of years later when it became known that the farmer who owned Garen, on the western side of the plateau, precisely where we had intended to go, had one morning stepped outside and discovered ski tracks coming from the east, just a few meters from his doorstep. He could not believe his own eyes, knowing that no one ever came that way in winter, nor did he think it was even possible.
Those tracks could only have been ours, for the dates matched as well.
Just think! Without knowing it, we had been only a few meters from our destination and had turned back to cross the plateau again — after being just minutes away from a safe refuge on the western side.
Amundsen never forgets his journey across the Hardangervidda. He recounts:
“As I said when I began telling this adventure, it was filled with as many dangers and as much hardship as anything I later experienced in the polar regions. It was a part of my training to become a polar explorer. The training turned out to be harder than the work it was meant to prepare me for, and it nearly put an end to my career before it had even begun.”
THE END
Want to join our winter hike to Trolltunga? Read more about the Trolltunga Adventures Winter Dashike with experienced, expert guides and book here.
Sources:
Portrait Amundsen: Ludwik Szaciński - Roald Amundsen's The North West Passage: Being a Record of a Voyage of Exploration of the ship Gjøa, 1903-1907; Roald Amundsen. New York: Dutton, 1908. National Library of Canada
Fredrikstad Blad, February 1896. Another version was published in Varden in December 1912.
Translation done by Chat GPT