The Quest for the East Pole

The Decision

Point the First: Recent climatic changes have rendered what had been submerged Britain more accessible to the bold adventurer. This Britannia Nouveau composed of New England, New Scotland, and New South Wales is now reachable with surface vehicles only.

Point the Second: Beyond New Scotland is rumored to be yet more New Found Land, where the farthest point east on the continent may be found.

Point the Third: The Heterodynes' Quest for the West Pole added further fame and glory to their already extensive resume.

Point the Fourth: No record of a successful "Quest for the East Pole" was found in a literature review. This suggests that further research is possible in the pole-quest field.

Point the Fifth: After completing doctoral degrees in biological engineering and advanced hirudonics, Frau Doctorin Professorin Aerztin Jennifer Hamilton, BS, MS, MD, PhD (henceforth referred to as Dr. Hamilton by request of the Typesetters' Union) found herself with some free time in her schedule before beginning her post-doctoral studies in Maniacal Laughter. Transylvania Polygnostic University has a strong pro-publication bias, limiting the time available to diversions such as "holidays" and "vacations" to 2.3 hours for those who seek tenure. "Quests", however, receive special exemption from the Department of Irrefutably True History as long as publication is promised.

Thus, it was decided: A Quest for the East Pole, by way of Britannia Nouveau!

The Travel Engine

The selection of an appropriate Travel Engine for the endevour was based upon available knowledge of anticipated terrain, the quantity and species of the intended crew members, the availability of fuels, and the selection of parts in storerooms to which Jen had access. In the end, a novel two-wheeled auto-kinetic hydrocarbon-fueled engine was selected. This device could travel over 60 leagues without refueling, and had ample attachment-points for valises with clothes, supplies, and repair materials. It should be noted, however, that such devices are not self-balancing, and require continual active participation on the part of the crew to prevent sudden catastrophic vector realignment.

After consulting with the Professors Foglio, it was determined that the Travel Engine could be identified as an official TPU vehicle. The much-coveted TPU insignia was attached to the Travel Engine with appropriate ceremony. (The small box on the lower right, shown empty in these illustrations, may someday hold the even-more-coveted TPU parking sticker.)

The Crew

Dr. Hamilton selected Roozer, a highly intelligent groundhog (Marmota monax) to accompany her on her voyage. Based on previous journeys together, she knew Roozer to be dependable, with an easy-going temperment and a well-developed knowledge of two-wheeled travel engines. Further, Roozer shares groundhogs' legendary ability to predict the weather, a vital asset to any expedition. Lastly, Roozer can sing harmony to Dr. Hamilton's travel shanties.

Roozer is generally seen carrying a favorite pillow, as hibernation may overtake a groundhog at any time. Safety-minded, Roozer often wears protective headgear even when not near the Engine.

The Supplies

Supplies for the crew included protective gear, food, several changes of clothing, repair materials, insect repellent, dark repellent, and -- at the kind offer of Dr. Wasserschmidt, Dean of the Climatological Modification and Control department -- rain repellent. His Cumulonimbal Disperser needed field testing, and he suggested that if New England was anything like the original model, a trip such as this would provide a thorough review. (The Department of Retrospective Irony has offered to analyse these comments.)

The Diaries

After months of cartographic review and weeks of vehicle preparation, the captain and crew of the Travel Engine Tookish were ready to depart. Excerpts from Dr. Hamilton's logs provide an in-depth view of the progress of this brave expedition.

Day 1. Well, that's everything on the Engine. We were ready to go when Roozer, surveying the scene, asked, "So, where's your rain gear?" "In the luggage," I answered. "Where's my rain gear?" "You didn't want any." "That was when I thought we were leaving last month. Now, we're going to hit rain." "But we've got the Cumulonimbal Disperser," I replied. "Uh-huh," muttered the groundhog, looking at the sky. "Better get that rubber suit on."

We left the campus under cloudy skies. By the time we reached the Green Mountains, we had ridden through some heavy mist, but nothing I would be willing to call frank rain.

Day 2. "More rain today," was Roozer's first comment to me this morning. We suited up and activated the Travel Engine. Our route eastward took us through Green Mountains with their verdant trees and White Mountains with their thick fog. As we left the mountains behind, the skies opened. Adjustments to the Disperser produced alterations from fog to mist to drizzle to downpours, but the fundamental precipitation remained.

Although we planned to avoid hostelries as much as possible, tonight we took lodging at a tavern in a town called Rumford rather than set up the tent in – the damp. We had been travelling (eastward, of course) along what seemed to be a major road called Way #2 when the well-maintained surface suddenly gave way to mud at a sign marked “Pavement Ends.” By the time mud gave way to a more tractable road, Roozer was damp and grumpy.

Day 3. Roadside repairs this morning. During our pre-travel inspection, I discovered that the front signalling lantern could not maintain illumination. As the fuses seemed to be in order, we headed into a town to find a replacement for the lantern itself. Even a brand new incandescent unit did not restore the lighting. Further review suggested that the fault was somewhere where the wiring passed through Roozer's cabin. As I worked -- in the rain, of course -- to restore the warm familiar glow, passers-by offered what they no doubt thought were helpful suggestions: "Have you tried a new incandescent unit?" Fools! I'll show them all!

Eventually, a new wiring pathway which did not pass through the groundhog's cabin was established, and lighting was restored. Note to self: get more oat-bars. Roozer may be hungry.

After that small diversion, we continued across New England to Bar Harbor, were a ferry waited to take us to New Scotland. (Hadrian's Wall appears to be still submerged.) East! Ever Eastward!

Day 4. "Oh, you're in luck," commented a border guard last night as we entered New Scotland. "The Highland Games start tomorrow. Few outsiders have seen them." "Are they east of here?" I asked, keeping focused on our goal. "Almost all of New Scotland is east of here." Roozer, for a change, was predicting several days of dry weather; so we made our way in comfort to Antigonish, for their annual Highland Games. Arriving in town, we found a tent-hostelry not far from the site of the Games themselves. We made camp in the late afternoon, and spent the evening speaking with fellow travellers for what they knew of the terrain between us and the East Pole. "New Found Land is a marvelous place," they'd say, "but it mists there most days, I hear tell." Of course, not one of them had made the trip themselves. By travellers' tales do we make our way...

Also noted that the power supply for the signalling device has failed. This, too, passed through Roozer's cabin. The charging station has been relocated. Note to self: could Roozer have a mineral deficiency, and need more dietary copper? (see Note below)

Days 5&6. These "Highland Games" are, in fact, war games. They began with a parade through the center of town to the fields where the contests of strength and skill would later be held. Fierce men carried weapons of steel; children demonstrated their abilities with wooden staves; women displayed their athletic prowess in dance. Martial music, performed on what appeared to be sheep carcasses, filled the air.

Many of the local games were recognizably variants of children's games played in and around Transylvania. Here, for example, is the New Scotland version of "pick-up sticks":

Step 1: Find a tree. Cut it down. Lop off the branches. Have your friends carry it to the playground with you.

Step 2: When it's your turn, have one of your friends position the stick upright.

Step 3: Get way underneath the pole...

Step 4: ...pick it up...

Step 5: ...and throw the stick.

Then your friends can pick up the stick!

Day 7. Roozer looked at me, concerned, before we broke camp. Sniffing the air to the east, the woodchuck commented, "That way lies a week of uninterrupted rain." Turning around, my faithful marmot continued, "To the west, rain today only; and then sun." I began to put on my rain suit once again. "Rain there may be; but that way also lies the East Pole." "Uh-huh. Either way, I'm riding inside today. You can try the Cumulonimbal Disperser if you want," commented my small companion, clambering into the trunk.

East! Ever Eastward! And so off we set toward Cape Breton Island, from which -- as we had been told -- a ferry to the New Found Land could be obtained. As we rode onward, the rain increased in intensity as the temperature dropped. After crossing the bridge to the island, I realized that things were different in this province: specifically, the rain was heavier yet, and the roads were less well maintained.

Stopping at a point about three leagues from the bridge, I had a conference with Roozer. "The rain will only get worse if we travel eastward." "But the East Pole lies that way!" The woodchuck nodded once, then continued. "An East Pole lies that way. If you cut a magnet in half, do you still have only one of each pole?"

I had forgotten that marmots, when pressed, may speak in riddles. "Let me be more plain," the weather-woodchuck continued. "If you arrive at the East Pole in the blinding rain, how will you be able to see it? And if you ride this travel engine, admirable though it is, into a collision with other engines travelling on the same pathways but in the opposite direction, how will you return to Transylvania Polygnostic to earn tenure?"

Suddenly, I grasped the meaning. Turning the engine toward the west, I cried out, "To an East Pole!" as we rode onward.

Day 8. We spent the night in Pugwash, a village on the northern shore of New Scotland, after riding for several more hours in the rain. This morning dawned dry, if not clear. Roozer and I celebrated our new itinerary by visiting the local salt mine (the marmot needed a new lick). We observed bilingual street markings -- English and Gaelic -- before buying some lovely vanilla fudge from a local merchant, and continuing toward An East Pole.

`We passed uneventfully through the City of Moncton, where Gaelic gave way to French on road signs, then rested at a large park on the Bay of Fundy. While Roozer went to chat with the local sciuridae, I walked to the nearby pebble beach and admired the amazing diversity of mineralogical specimens to be found. The Atlantic Ocean lapped at my riding boots as I collected samples for TPU's Geology Department. The tides in the bay, I was told, surpass eight fathoms. Before arriving, I had doubted that such fluctations could truthfully be found, but when I observed the high water marks on the nearby cliffs, I was more inclined to believe.

We rode onward, staying near the coast to better observe the tides, before making camp in the Village of Saint Martin.

Day 9. I looked at the grey sky with evident distaste. "Don't worry about the fog," Roozer counselled. "We're just at the sea-coast. If we head inland, the skies will clear. Either way, no rain today." And with those words of advice, we continued on our way -- from the Village of Saint Martin, through the City of Saint John, before taking a small ferry to the Island of the Deer. Notices posted along the route advised that whales were common in these waters. Indeed, although the ferry crew avoided them, other mariners could be induced to seek out these watery mammals.

Thus, when we arrived on the Island of Deer, our first stop was at a small dock where, we hoped, such a vessel could be chartered. (Being located in the center of the continent, Transylvania Polygnostic is somewhat weaker in Cetaceology than in other areas of science -- a sad fact that we are taking pains to correct. Any observations could be valuable to some faculty members, and in return -- well, never mind what I want in return.) Setting forth, we quickly saw a minke whale leap into the air. Later, we followed a pair of finbacks as they played in the distance. The whales attracted the attention of vessels other than our own; soon, three or four boats were gathered around the pair. When one whale turned to leave the area, it surfaced directly next to our own craft! Had I been brave enough and jumped, I would have landed on the whale's back. But, remembering the results of attempts to re-access the Americas, I demurred and merely gathered pictorial evidence.

The captain of the boat, realizing that I had obtained the closest view of a whale I could hope for, then turned back toward land. On the way, I noted other species rare in Transylvania: the bald eagle, the cormorant, and the seagull.

Roozer looked at the sky when our small craft docked. "A valuable trip, I'm sure, but we won't be able to take the ferry off-island tonight. We'll have to make camp." And so we did, right on the island's tip, as lighthouses gleamed in the distance.

Day 10: An East Pole! Realizing what the day would hold, I got up early and began breaking camp before even consulting with my marmot about the weather. "Today's the day I make history!" I cried. Roozer then emerged from a nearby borrow. "I make history? And who recommended this path? What am I, pâte de écureuil gras?" I blanched. "Today we make history -- you, me, and our Travel Engine." We quickly loaded our gear onto the Engine, then waited for the ferry that would take us to destiny.

Destiny's Ferry had problems of its own that morning, needing attention from its crew which delayed matters. Eventually, though, we boarded, and within ten minutes had been tranported to Eastport: The City Farthest East!

Completing our survey the East Poles, we then rode south-west-ward toward the White Mountains, where we would spend the night in joyous, smug self-satisfaction, munching on vanilla fudge.

Day 11-15: The day after our triumph, we planned to visit friends who spent their summers in the Green Mountains. “If we're quick,” Roozer advised, “there will be no rain.” Unfortunately, we were not quick enough, and a light rain started when we were approximately seven leagues from the farm where we planned to spend a few days regaling our friends with tales of our adventures. As a result, by the time of our approach, the road had started to give way to mud – mud which was too thick, and too steep, for our engine to climb safely. After passers-by helped turn the engine around and point us toward the correct pathway, we set off on our way. But the damage had been done.

Oh, at first, we didn't notice. I spent happy times with my friends Christopher and Anne, while Roozer met some local chipmunks and staged an impromptu performance of Gulliver's Travels. “Thespian squirrels!” I remarked, amazed. “Do they ever do musicals?” “They're chipmunks, not squirrels,” I was told. “And, no. Singing chipmunks would just be – wrong.”

But eventually the time came to depart. As I pointed the travel engine back down the path, Christopher came over to express his concern. “You know that engine doesn't sound right.” “I know, “ I confided, “but I think I can get us home.”

And so I did – but not before two extra days in the Green Mountains. The short journey down the path from the farm to the main road revealed that the trip uphill a few days previouly had destroyed the clutch, part of the complex linkage between the combustion center and the drive wheel. In despair, I imagined that I might need to leave our noble craft Tookish behind and return to TPU by some other means. How could this small settlement here in the mountains of New England have the parts I needed to repair my engine, produced at the world-renowned University, home to the Continent's finest sparks? In the end, Christopher's mother (herself a teacher, and familiar with the ways of University life) provided the answer. “Jen,” she pointed out, “you don't have tenure yet. So your lab isn't the finest – yet.” (I had begun to sputter before she added that all-important adverb.) “I'm sure that while some of the parts of your engine are the most advanced on the Continent, the gearing to the drive wheel may be...”

"Old enough that it might be temporarily replaced by parts available here!" A discussion with a local mechanic confirmed it: while he did not have a replacement for the twenty-year-old clutch in his shop, he could obtain one for me the next day.

And thus, with a replaced clutch, a smiling woodchuck, and stunning evidence of my successful conquest of an East Pole, I returned home – tired, damp, and proud.

Note: Further investigation conducted after the return of the party to their home revealed that the damage to the Autokine's wiring was not the result of any damage caused in any way by Roozer or the woodchuck's dietary habits. The author wishes to publicly retract any and all statements suggesting that marmots or other Scuridae may have deliberately or inadvertantly damaged Tookish. The fault was in fact the result of poor wiring, which caused an over-current protective device overheat, thereby deforming the device's plasticine container and disrupting the electrical pathway.