Ornen’s progress became erratic as the wind shifted east, then west, then southeasterly again. The combination of gas loss and ice weight forced the balloon dangerously low. Everything deemed unnecessary was heaved overboard. By the night of July 12, the gondola was skidding over the ice. “We have had to drop more ballast and have been unable to sleep or rest because of the continuous bumps,” wrote Andrée. “It is not likely we can stand this much longer.”

By July 13, the situation had become desperate. After further lightening, the balloon had risen to 80 meters (265 feet), but it quickly lost altitude again. Andrée had to make a decision. Jettisoning what remained–mostly survival equipment– might give them a temporary respite but would surely jeopardize their chances should they be forced to the ice permanently. At 7:22 a.m. on July 14, Saloman Andrée brought Ornen to rest on the Arctic ice pack, roughly 216 miles from the nearest land. The rest of their journey would have to be made on foot.

The aeronauts salvaged what they could from their stricken craft. They had sleds for hauling equipment, a boat for crossing open leads, and a healthy supply of guns and ammunition. Emergency bases had been established at Mossel Bay on Spitsbergen and Cape Flora in Franz Josef Land far to the east. Believing his calculations as to their location to be correct, Andrée felt they had a better chance of reaching the latter camp. After stripping Ornen and resting, the little party began their trek on July 22. The short Arctic summer was nearing its end.

The aeronauts’ journey across the ice rapidly became a nightmare. Sleds loaded with supplies had to be manhandled over pressure ridges more rugged than mountain ranges. Leads of black, open water blocked their path or were negotiated by using the canvas boat. Deep pools of fresh water on the ice pack made travel treacherous. Distances covered daily rarely amounted to more than a few miles. To make matters worse, the ice floe they traveled on had begun drifting westward–away from the Cape Flora station.

Andrée, Fraenkel and Strindberg tried to remain cheerful. Food was plentiful as they shot and cooked polar bears on the ice–”the wandering meat shops of the Arctic,” Andrée termed them in his diary. Strindberg continued to snap photos of their journey, often using an automatic release device.

By August, Andrée’s calculations showed Franz Josef Land to be too distant to reach. They pushed toward Spitsbergen, hoping to go as far as possible before the frigid winter raked them. On September 17, they sighted the mountain peak marking White Island. On October 6, with the Arctic winds already swirling the snow, the explorers settled into a makeshift winter camp.

It’s difficult to ascertain what happened to the trio during the waning days of October. Nils Strindberg provided a last entry in his journal on October 17, “Home 7.5 o’cl. a.m.” Sometime afterward, the physicist died. Andrée and Fraenkel partially buried their friend, then waited for the end. They undoubtedly succumbed to the cold, though it has also been suggested that they were asphyxiated by a malfunctioning stove or that they died from trichinosis from eating poorly cooked bear meat.

After the discovery of the remains of Andrée and his companions in 1930, the Swedish government dispatched the gunboat Svensksund–the same vessel that had taken Andrée to Spitsbergen three decades earlier–to bring her fallen sons home. On September 27, 1930, the little warship steamed into Gothenburg with three caskets draped with Swedish flags on her aft deck. Thousands of onlookers crowded the docks, much as they had when Andrée had departed with such high hopes in 1896. To the strains of Beethoven’s “Marche Funèbre,” the aeronauts were borne into Storkyrkan Cathedral and laid to rest.

---

Kenneth P. Czech is a frequent contributor. For further reading, he recommends: Andrée: The Record of a Tragic Adventure, by George Palmer Putnam; and The Aeronauts, A History of Ballooning 1783-1903, by L.T.C. Rolt.

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5