We of course went ashore immediately in order to look for N 25 and its crew. I had taken note of the direction of their landing place, and thought we would be about three-quarters of a mile away from them. The sight that met us when we climbed the highest ice-clump was just as depressing as it was surprising. No sign of N 25. As far as the eye could see there was nothing but ice, and ice again, on all sides, except in the direction of the water-lane from whence we had come. And _what_ ice! Not large--not even small--plains of ice, but hills of it, and long high icebanks which impeded the view on all sides. We had seen from above quite plainly that landing-places on the ice were very poor, but what we saw now affected us overwhelmingly and surprisingly. We shuddered involuntarily, and yet at the same time we were gripped by a sense of the wildness and beauty. But we must get to work. We must find N 25, so out came the glasses. After having eagerly looked for a little while, we discovered the end of a propeller and a wing sticking out over an iceberg. We estimated the distance to be three-quarters to one mile, and decided to walk across to that spot as soon as we had eaten a little. Personally I had not tasted anything (wet or dry) and had not missed it. But now I had developed an appetite and Director Knutsen’s sandwiches were more than welcome. Omdal immediately got busy with his beloved engines, Ellsworth sacrificed himself to the studying of the meteorological conditions, while I quickly “took the sun,” which showed that we were about 87° 50′ north. It appeared to us that the plane lay safe and sound and Ellsworth and I decided to walk across to N 25. We expected that by walking along by the water-lane we would be able to cover the distance in one and a half hours, and for safety’s sake took the canvas boat along with us. We did not bother about provisions or anything else. Before we started we hoisted our brave Norwegian flag on the top of the iceberg.