"They were happy," Amundsen said. "And now they're going to die quickly. We need three sledges, and eighteen dogs, to go to the Pole."

After the snowstorm, there was fog, and in the fog, they got lost on an ice river with hundreds of big holes in it. They could see nothing, and it was very dangerous. In four days they moved nine kilometres. But the ice is beautiful, Bjaaland wrote. Blue and green and white. This is a wonderful place -- but I don't want to stay a long time.

After the ice, there were strong winds and bad snowstorms. They could see nothing in front of them. But every day, they travelled twenty-five or thirty kilometres. Then, on December 9th, the sun came out. They were at 88°23′South -- 175 kilometres from the Pole.

When the dogs were dead, the other dogs ate them. The men ate them, too. They were good friends, Bjaaland wrote in his diary. And now they are good food. Two days later, the dogs were fat. Then, in a snowstorm, they began the journey again.

On November 21st, the Norwegians killed thirty dogs.

Five more long days, Bjaaland wrote. That's all now. But where is Scott?

Teddy Evans was very unhappy. "Two men, Captain?" he said. "Why not three?"

For four days, Scott's men stayed in their tents near the mountains. There is a bad snowstorm outside, Oates wrote. It's too cold for the ponies, and our clothes and skis are bad, too.

"Because Bowers is going to come with me," Scott said. "He's strong -- we need him."

On December 9th, Oates killed the ponies. They were tired and ill and they could not walk up to the plateau. Then Meares and his dogs went back to Cape Evans. "We can pull the sledges ourselves," Scott said. "We can do it -- we're all strong men."

There were two sledges and eight men. They went twenty-four kilometres a day. On December 31st, Scott said to Teddy Evans, and the men on the second sledge: "You can't ski well. Leave your skis here." So they pulled their sledge twenty-four kilometres without skis.

Next day, Scott went to Teddy Evans's tent. "You are ill, Teddy," he said. "You can't come to the Pole. Take two men and go back, tomorrow."

On January 4th Scott's men left Teddy Evans and went on. Scott, Oates, Wilson and Edgar Evans had skis, but Bowers did not. They were 270 kilometres from the Pole.

Oates wrote to his mother: I am going to the Pole with Scott. I am pleased and I fell strong. But in his diary he wrote; My feet are very bad. They are always wet now, and they don't look good.

"I'm the Captain, Teddy!" Scott said. "You do what I say. Take two men and leave Bowers with me!"

"But… you have food on your sledge for four men, not five!" Evans said. "And Bowers has no skis!"

December 14th 1911 was a warm, sunny day. Five Norwegians skied over the beautiful white snow. It was very quiet. No one spoke. They were excited, and happy.

Bjaaland left his sledge and skied quickly away over the snow. "What is it?" he thought. "Is it…? No!"

"It's nothing!" he called. "There's nothing there… nothing!"

"Look!" Hassel said. "What's that over there?"

"Six more kilometres," Bjaaland thought. Is there a British flag? I can't see a flag, but…

Three kilometres, two. "Roald!" Hanssen called to Amundsen. "Go in front of me, please. It helps my dogs."

They skied on and on, over the beautiful snow.

"That's not true," Bjaaland thought. "His dogs are running well today. But Hanssen wants Amundsen to be first. The first man at the South Pole!"

Bjaaland looked at him. "But there's nothing here," he said.

"Stop!" Amundsen said. He waited quietly for his men. "This is it," he said.

The four men stood on the snow, and looked at him. Then, slowly, they all began to laugh.

Amundsen smiled. "Oh yes there is," he said. "There's something very important here, Olav. Very, very important."

"What's that, Roald?"

"Us. We're here now. Isn't that important, Olav?"