Sherard Osborn Fiord seems to have evil designs upon all who dare to intrude. A smooth surface apparently the best going, proves to be deep soft snow. The opposite shore looking so near recedes as one approaches until one almost gives up in despair of ever reaching it. It was here the English had such a hard time, wading through snow more than three feet deep with no snow shoes, "parched with thirst, and obliged to halt every fifty yards to recover breath" - "sometimes dragging the sledge on their hands and knees to relieve their aching legs or hauling her ahead with a long rope and standing pulls" in one march only making two miles. Altho the shore looked to them only one mile away it took them 3 days to reach it.