Around 5:30 pm, Carlos Eduardo asked if he could go outside to see the station, but he wanted Ernani to accompany him as a guide. But he didn't want to, because the blizzard was approaching and we could already hear the wind beating against the metal walls of the modules.

     "Come on, Ernani. You're the only brave one here!" joked Carlos.

     "There's no way I'm going!" he declared excitedly, making a gesture with his hand while giving the biologist a sidelong glance. Ever since they had been introduced, I had noticed that Ernani had taken a seemingly gratuitous antipathy towards Carlos Eduardo.

     To make matters worse, Carlos made a joke that seemed prejudiced to everyone:

     "The more 'men' to protect Ema, the better..."

     And he laughed. Ernani's eyes reddened with anger, but he preferred to smile back. Ema, sensing the possible quarrel, shifted her focus:e

     "Don't listen to Carlos' nonsense. Come on, will you?", she encouraged him. "I'm leaving for the ship without knowing anything? We were going to stay here all summer, but now we have to go to Besnard much earlier than scheduled, maybe even tomorrow."

     Ernani was reluctant:

     "Ema, are you kidding me? Didn't the doctor recommend you rest?"

     "Don't worry, I'm fine now."

     He sighed, giving in to Ema's charms. Or maybe Carlos', who knows:

     "All right! But we can't stay outside for more than half an hour. The blizzard is coming!"

     As they were leaving, I noticed that, seen from the back, Carlos Eduardo and the admiral looked very similar. Same build, broad shoulders, slightly curved back, similar haircut... Little did I know how important this observation, made almost instinctively, would be. I told Inês and she agreed.

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     After the three of them left, we stayed in the living room, sitting on very comfortable sofas, me, Inês and the Admiral. However, the admiral also ended up leaving in order to get more information about the weather conditions, which were worsening all the time.

     As there was nothing else to do, Inês picked up her book and flipped through it. I took a closer look at her. Middle-aged, medium height, very nice. She wore her curly hair with a lot of volume and bounce and the best way I could think of to define her beauty was: breathtaking! Piercing eyes, which probed us at every moment, sometimes lingering on our faces for several seconds, as if searching for every detail of our souls. He wasn't, therefore, the type to lower his head in an interlocution.

     While we waited for news of the storm, she regaled me with some stories of the exploration of the continent during the so-called Heroic Period:

     "Superintendent, I don't know if you know... Great men set foot on these lands in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. They were great trailblazers, but I would say, real madmen! If the conquest of the North Pole came to a standstill in the courts, the conquest of the South was marked by an epic race between two rival expeditions: that of the Norwegian Roald Amundsen, in command of the Fram, against the Englishman Robert Falcon Scott, sailing the Terra Nova...

     'Roald Amundsen had already wintered in Antarctica on the expedition of the ship Belgium. He spent thirteen months trapped in the ice, in a freezing, dark hell, with the Antarctic night lasting almost two months!"

     She laughed at her own words:

     "Paradoxical! Hell, freezing and dark!"

     These matters were not at all pleasant, considering the storm that was approaching without asking permission. But Inês' voice was so passionate that there was no way of not hearing it. I was amazed:

     "Thirteen months? My goodness!"

     "Yes! And two months without sun! Imagine the horror! But I prefer to remember the moment when the sun came out again. In Cook's description, the one from the North Pole...

     She took the book:

     'The sky took on the color of lemon, revealing the icebergs, then changing to gold, orange and finally blue...'

     I started to take an interest in the subject:

     "And Belgium's expedition... Did it reach the pole?"

     "No! They gave up! In general, failure was always due to the same reasons: lack of food, lack of animals, errors in strategy and tiredness. Robert Falcon Scott himself also had his previous attempt thwarted from the Ross Sea, prevented from proceeding by huge icy mountain ranges."

     "What about the race between the expeditions?"

     "Oh, yes! Amundsen and Scott left Europe in 1910, arriving in Antarctica at the beginning of 1911. They settled in the bay of the Ross Sea, about 600 kilometers from each other. For the first few months, they planned their journeys and organized their food stores until spring arrived. When Amundsen left, he did so with a reduced team. It was a journey of 56 days, all the way to the dream! And, in total, by land, a journey of 99 days over 2,600 kilometers."

     "What about Scott?"

     "This one's gone wrong! If Amundsen did a lot of planning, Scott made a big mistake, starting with the choice of sea route, where the Terra Nova almost sank. He then took the overland route, which took him 22 days longer than Amundsen. Both had experience, but Amundsen made better choices. Scott, the worst.

     "Scott and the team had already expended their energy, braving the seas, arriving exhausted on the continent, which was not the case with Amundsen, but Scott's biggest mistake was on land: he left with all the cargo he could carry and all the men... These men were setting up the tents, returning to the ship so that Scott could use them on his way back from the pole. Once again, it was very exhausting, setting off with so much weight, so many animals and so many men. What's more, they all set off 'in the dark', with no prior knowledge of the route they would have to take.

     ¨Amundsen, on the other hand, did things differently, sending the men to the front. They set up their tents while the Norwegian waited, resting on the ship. When he finally set off, Amundsen did so with little weight, few men and few animals, because everything was already properly housed in the various tents along the way, which he used not only on the way back, but especially on the way out. He also chose a better topography. And those who returned gave the others information about what they could expect ahead. Whoever went out had previous knowledge of the terrain."

     Inês lamented:

     "Scott didn't deserve it, poor guy! Arriving at the pole and finding the Norwegian flag waving... And two letters from Amundsen to him... A big disappointment!"

     "Two letters?"

     "Yes! One of them was actually a note, which read: 'Give the enclosed letter to the King of Norway in case I die on the way back'."

     I couldn't contain myself:

     "Son of a bitch!"

     Leafing through the book later, I discovered the following words, transcribed from the Norwegian's diary: 'In the name of King Haakon VII, I take possession of the polar plateau. That's how the veil is torn forever! One of the Earth's greatest secrets no longer exists'.

     Scott had already written the following in his diary: 'Oh God, what a horrible place. It's very disappointing to have suffered so much to get there and not be rewarded with the glory of priority'.

     I was looking forward to the end of the story:

     "So, Inês, what happened to Scott?"

     "He died on the way back!"

     "I can't believe it!"

     In his diary, Scott would write: 'The end is near, by the Grace of God; take care of our families'. Eight months later, his body was found. He had his eyes open and his left hand outstretched; under his head, the diaries. His body was left there, on stone mounds serving as a tomb.

     "What about that bastard Amundsen?"

     Inês laughed

     "He survived to tell the tale and, after the feat, flew over the North Pole in an airship in 1926. He was fearless. But he died two years later at the North Pole itself. His body was never found!"

     "Well deserved!"

     Inês widened her eyes:

     "Uai¹, what's that, superintendent?"

     "The bastard deserved it."

     We laughed together. I was impressed by those stories — and very angry with that Amundsen! What a scam, the ticket story!

     While I was listening to the incredible stories told by Ines, who had a sweet, melodious voice, Ema, Carlos and Ernani were outside the Ferraz Station. Listening to Ines talk about the navigators of the past had undoubtedly been a much better choice than going outside to brave the cold.
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¹Uai: Interjection meaning surprise in the Brazilian state of Minas Gerais, possibly associated with the english word "why".