This hike of one hundred miles, with provisions and equipment on his
back, was a tremendous journey in itself. It would not be on a beaten
road, but through an unpopulated wilderness still lying deep under
winter snows. To Grenfell, however, it would be but an incident in his
active life. He was accustomed to following a dog team, and that
hardens a man for nearly any physical effort. It requires that a man
keep at a trot the livelong day, and it demands a good heart and good
lungs and staying powers and plenty of grit, and Grenfell was well
equipped with all of these.
The menacing Arctic ice pack lay a mile or so seaward when Grenfell
and one companion turned their backs on St. Anthony, and the motor
boat chugged southward, out of the harbor and along the coast. For a
time all went well, and then an easterly wind sprang up and there
followed a touch-and-go game between Dr. Grenfell and the ice.
In an attempt to dodge the ice the boat struck upon rocks. This caused
some damage to her bottom, but not sufficient to incapacitate her, as
it was found the hole could be plugged.
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