By 30 January 1911 the Depot Laying Expedition had reached its third camp, now atop the Ross Sea Ice Shelf. Nicknamed "Safety Camp", they had reached 77'55" lat. But the previous days' optimism regarding the horses had given way to despair, melting along with the warmer temperatures and softening surface, into which the ponies thin legs were post-holing, causing them to wallow helplessly in the slush. This was, Scott recorded, a "great shock." (Journals, p. 112, Carroll & Graf [1996]). Considering the slow progress this was imposing on the depot journey, Scott called a "war council" at which he explained his decision to scale back the effort, including smaller loads and aiming less far out towards the pole.
The going was so poor that Lawrence Oates, the animal handler, objected to the continued use of the ponies to bring the rest of the Depot Laying Expedition supplies up onto the Ice Shelf. The mention of Oates in Scott's journal entry for 30 January 1911 is propitious. Known as the "Solider" because of his regular service in the British Army, Oates had done duty at the turn of the last century in British-occupied Egypt. For all the scorn heaped on Scott's hubristic and ill-fated attempt on the pole, at least it can be said that he could harm no one but himself and his volunteers. The same cannot be said of England's bloody imperial adventures around the world, exemplified by Oates' and the Dragoons' tours in Egypt. Surely the dramatic events in Egypt of the last week of January 2011 carry the echoes - faint though they may be - of Africa's unhappy submission to European powers. I wonder if the world would have been a better place - still might be a better place - if all the nations' great ambitions and lust for prominence were poured out in (ultimately) senseless struggles like Scott's as opposed to more costly efforts. For tonight, I am hopeful that Egypt might at last be shrugging off the last tattered remnants of her colonial history, moving towards authentic self-determination, and peace.
Robert Falcon Scott's South Pole @ 100
1/30/11
1/29/11
Depot Laying Journey - January 1911
Having set off across the disintegrating Ross Sea ice on 24 January 1911, the "Depot Laying Journey" to which Scott had committed the company was making slow but steady progress. He reported from their second camp on 28-29 January 1911 that they had reached the Great Barrier of the Ross Ice Shelf. They had covered roughly 18 miles with their massive loads and would dedicate the coming days to portaging all of it up to the Ice Shelf. The Depot Team consisted of: 12 men, 8 ponies, 26 dogs - hauling 5,538 pounds of gear and necessities as far as "Cache 1".
These supplies were augmented with others brought as far south through McMurdo Sound as the "Glacier Tongue" by the Terra Nova, which was moving well through the softened, summer ice. For all this work the ponies were paired and attached to one of four sledges. Scott's journal entry from 24 January 1911 contains a detailed manifest, listing the more than 600 pounds loaded onto each of these sledges. (Journals, p. 107-108, Carroll & Graf [1996]). Scott also recorded the extent of the men's gear. Each wore: vest and drawers, woollen shirt, jersey, balaclava, wind suit, two pairs of socks, and ski boots. Each carried the following spare gear: 2 pairs under socks, 2 pairs outer socks, 1 pair hair socks, 1 pair night socks, 1 payjama jacket, 1 payjama trousers, 1 woollen mitts, 2 finnesko, and skein. Each man was allowed two pounds of discretionary items. (Journals, p. 108, Carroll & Graf [1996]). Cherry-Garrard described the existential debates that surrounded the fateful choices the men would make in utilizing those two pounds. "Many were the arguments," Cherry-Garrard said, "as to the relative value of a pair of socks or their equivalent in tobacco." (Apsley Cherry-Garrard, The Worst Journey in the World, p. 108, Carroll & Graf [1989]). Cherry-Garrard's invoice contains some interesting details left out of Scott's. For example, he notes that the men were keen to have large safety-pins on hand "with which to hang up our socks." (Apsley Cherry-Garrard, The Worst Journey in the World, p. 108, Carroll & Graf [1989]).
The Company hauled the last of the designated supplies off the Terra Nova on 26 January 1911 and Scott - a Royal Navy Captain and thoroughgoing seaman - bid the ship and its crew goodbye (it would depart to New Zealand to avoid the coming, brutal, south-polar winter and return again in 1911 with new supplies) with the kind of heartrending warmth, affection, and gratitude so in keeping with his character. Scott reported that he thanked the ship's crew for their work, and concluded that "they have behaved like bricks and a finer lot of fellows never sailed in a ship." (Journals, p. 109, Carroll & Graf [1996]). The Terra Nova left under the command of Lt. Harry Pennell. Cherry-Garrard made the poignant note that "Four of that Depot party were never to see these men again, and Pennell, Commander of the Queen Mary, went down with his ship in the battle of Jutland." (Apsley Cherry-Garrard, The Worst Journey in the World, p. 110 [1989]).
And the debate over ponies and dogs was now being waged in practice. Scott reported that, in the portage over the Barrier to the Ice Shelf on 27 January 1911, the pony sledges were smoothly hauling upwards of 900 pounds while the dogs were managing only 500 pounds "at a snail's pace." (Journals, p. 110, Carroll & Graf [1996]). Whatever prejudices Scott might have entertained ahead of the expedition were being confirmed on both sides of the debate.
These supplies were augmented with others brought as far south through McMurdo Sound as the "Glacier Tongue" by the Terra Nova, which was moving well through the softened, summer ice. For all this work the ponies were paired and attached to one of four sledges. Scott's journal entry from 24 January 1911 contains a detailed manifest, listing the more than 600 pounds loaded onto each of these sledges. (Journals, p. 107-108, Carroll & Graf [1996]). Scott also recorded the extent of the men's gear. Each wore: vest and drawers, woollen shirt, jersey, balaclava, wind suit, two pairs of socks, and ski boots. Each carried the following spare gear: 2 pairs under socks, 2 pairs outer socks, 1 pair hair socks, 1 pair night socks, 1 payjama jacket, 1 payjama trousers, 1 woollen mitts, 2 finnesko, and skein. Each man was allowed two pounds of discretionary items. (Journals, p. 108, Carroll & Graf [1996]). Cherry-Garrard described the existential debates that surrounded the fateful choices the men would make in utilizing those two pounds. "Many were the arguments," Cherry-Garrard said, "as to the relative value of a pair of socks or their equivalent in tobacco." (Apsley Cherry-Garrard, The Worst Journey in the World, p. 108, Carroll & Graf [1989]). Cherry-Garrard's invoice contains some interesting details left out of Scott's. For example, he notes that the men were keen to have large safety-pins on hand "with which to hang up our socks." (Apsley Cherry-Garrard, The Worst Journey in the World, p. 108, Carroll & Graf [1989]).
The Company hauled the last of the designated supplies off the Terra Nova on 26 January 1911 and Scott - a Royal Navy Captain and thoroughgoing seaman - bid the ship and its crew goodbye (it would depart to New Zealand to avoid the coming, brutal, south-polar winter and return again in 1911 with new supplies) with the kind of heartrending warmth, affection, and gratitude so in keeping with his character. Scott reported that he thanked the ship's crew for their work, and concluded that "they have behaved like bricks and a finer lot of fellows never sailed in a ship." (Journals, p. 109, Carroll & Graf [1996]). The Terra Nova left under the command of Lt. Harry Pennell. Cherry-Garrard made the poignant note that "Four of that Depot party were never to see these men again, and Pennell, Commander of the Queen Mary, went down with his ship in the battle of Jutland." (Apsley Cherry-Garrard, The Worst Journey in the World, p. 110 [1989]).
And the debate over ponies and dogs was now being waged in practice. Scott reported that, in the portage over the Barrier to the Ice Shelf on 27 January 1911, the pony sledges were smoothly hauling upwards of 900 pounds while the dogs were managing only 500 pounds "at a snail's pace." (Journals, p. 110, Carroll & Graf [1996]). Whatever prejudices Scott might have entertained ahead of the expedition were being confirmed on both sides of the debate.
1/28/11
Interesting note about Mr. Scott as child...
I ran across this from a book I started reading. It says a lot about why Robert Scott would take on such an expedition: "The Scott I knew was physically as hard as nails and flung himself into work or play with a vehemence I cannot remember ever to have seen equaled." As an example, when Scott was 8, he commanded his troupe of siblings to attack a small dock (later known as the enemy battleship) in the home's pond: "he was impelled, as all boys are, to blow something up, and he could think of nothing more splendid for this purpose than the battleship." Hey Russ, doesn't that sound like someone I grew up with?
(Reference: "The Voyages of Captain Scott: Retold from the Voyage of the Discovery and Scott's Last Expedition", by Charles Turley)
(Reference: "The Voyages of Captain Scott: Retold from the Voyage of the Discovery and Scott's Last Expedition", by Charles Turley)
1/24/11
We Are Doing It On A Very Narrow Margin ....
After a quiet day on 22 January 1911, Scott and company awoke on 23 January 1911 to find unusually warm weather running out the sea ice on which they had planned to travel from Ross Island's Cape Evans to the massive and stable Ross Ice Shelf. The journey in question was to be the fall 1911 depot laying adventure, during which they would scout the early parts of the polar route and leave tons of supplies behind in depots for use in the 1911-12 assault on the pole the following December and January. But with the sea ice weakening there was a sudden and alarming risk that they wouldn't get away from Cape Evans. As it was, a mad dash to get the depot party off was necessary - what Scott called a "wonderful day's work." (Journals, p. 103, Carroll & Graf [1996]).
With that effort the depot team got across the ice on 24 January 1911, only a day ahead of the melt. Apsley Cherry-Garrard, whose breathtaking account of the expedition (entitled "The Worst Journey in the World") first introduced me to polar literature and the drama of Scott's 1911-12 expedition, described the rush to get away as "a state of hurry bordering on panic." (Apsley Cherry-Garrard, The Worst Journey in the World, p. 107, Carroll & Graf [1989]). The horse teams were led on the precarious road across the sea ice while Scott and others tracked their progress from the Terra Nova, itself making hard for a rendezvous at the Ross Ice Shelf and carrying supplies and gear. Cracks 30 feet wide were yawning along the sea ice "road." With ponies falling through the ice up to their chests, Scott still insisted that he would withhold his opinion of the dogs, questioning their potential for success. But the ponies, he stubbornly recorded, "are going to be real good." (Journals, p. 106, Carroll & Graf [1996]). The rest of Scott's journal entry for the day contains a long list of the more than five tons of supplies the depot team would be handling. As he made no entry on 25 January 1911, I'll take the time tomorrow to report on that invoice.
But Cherry-Garrard reported that the company did more than 10 miles of sledging that day, setting up their "inexperienced camp" not far from Hut Point, the base of the 1902-03 Shackleton expedition. (Apsley Cherry-Garrard, The Worst Journey in the World, p. 109, Carroll & Graf [1989]).
Photo: Ponting Portrait of Cherry-Garrard.
1/21/11
The Drift Was Making Rapidly to the South ...
On 19 January 1911, Scott recorded a most poetic description of the company's surroundings on Cape Evans. He concludes "it would be difficult to describe [the area's] beauty in sufficiently glowing terms." (Journals, p. 97, Carrol & Graf [1996]). As is often the case, Scott is at pains to mention the smallest contributions and accomplishments of this men, for which he is clearly appreciative. No one can doubt his affection and loyalty to this team. His gentle humanity is written in his words. His companions are "delighted," or are called "dear chaps," they are "admired," he calls them "perfectly excellent" and "ingenious." (Journals, p. 97-98, Carrol & Graf [1996]).
Some find that leadership is best realized through firmness or force. For me, however, I would prefer to be led into that vast white deathly continent, by a man of respectful affection.
As the company has moved into the "hut" - better thought of as a "house," Scott explains - he and others spent 20 January 1911 surveying stores and equipment. Scott is thrilled with their kit, top to bottom, finding it to be "perfectly excellent ... that there is not a single arrangement which I would have altered." (Journals, p. 100, Carrol & Graf [1996]). In particular, he singles out the exceptional quality of the Jaeger felt boots. I presume this is the same UK clothier that today is a leading fashion brand. Perhaps fittingly, considering its polar past, today Jaeger makes the point that the cornerstone of its collection is its coats.
Scott notes that the company has a gramophone and a pianola. It will be a long winter in the intimate confines of the hut.
Scott reported a "sickening" development on 21 January 1911. The Terra Nova, anchored to the Ross Sea ice, was constantly under navigation nonetheless, as it adjusted to tides and wind and drift and changing ice. In these conditions, the ship ran aground fueling images of the ship's 60 men - who were meant to return to New Zealand for the winter - being stranded with the rest on Cape Evans. But the Terra Nova was loosed from the gravel and rock. "The relief," Scott said, "was enormous." (Journals, p. 102, Carrol & Graf [1996]).
Some find that leadership is best realized through firmness or force. For me, however, I would prefer to be led into that vast white deathly continent, by a man of respectful affection.
As the company has moved into the "hut" - better thought of as a "house," Scott explains - he and others spent 20 January 1911 surveying stores and equipment. Scott is thrilled with their kit, top to bottom, finding it to be "perfectly excellent ... that there is not a single arrangement which I would have altered." (Journals, p. 100, Carrol & Graf [1996]). In particular, he singles out the exceptional quality of the Jaeger felt boots. I presume this is the same UK clothier that today is a leading fashion brand. Perhaps fittingly, considering its polar past, today Jaeger makes the point that the cornerstone of its collection is its coats.
Scott notes that the company has a gramophone and a pianola. It will be a long winter in the intimate confines of the hut.
Scott reported a "sickening" development on 21 January 1911. The Terra Nova, anchored to the Ross Sea ice, was constantly under navigation nonetheless, as it adjusted to tides and wind and drift and changing ice. In these conditions, the ship ran aground fueling images of the ship's 60 men - who were meant to return to New Zealand for the winter - being stranded with the rest on Cape Evans. But the Terra Nova was loosed from the gravel and rock. "The relief," Scott said, "was enormous." (Journals, p. 102, Carrol & Graf [1996]).
1/18/11
Every Man In His Way Is A Treasure . . .
There was very little for Scott to report on 18 January 1911. But the handful of paragraphs in the day's journal entry nonetheless say volumes about Scott's humanity. Already, in all of this, a fatal weakness is coming into view. He was determined to spread praise to all the members of the crew. On this day, he singled out Bowers, Simpson and Wright - even Clissold the cook, of whom Scott said: "[he] has started splendidly, has served seal, penguin, and skua; and I can honestly say that I have never met these articles of food in such a pleasing guise..." (Journals, p. 97, Carroll & Graf [1996]). But this fair-mindedness would mean - in the end - that Scott would include one man too many in the final polar party - outstripping the planned rations and depots, and contributing to all the members' deaths. What a shame that Scott's wholly admirable sensitivity would be met with the Antarctic's unforgiving terms. There, it seems, all men are not necessarily a treasure.
1/17/11
I Had No Idea We Would Be So Expeditious ...
While the new hut on Cape Evans was being built, Scott took the rest day - 15 January 1911 - to cross the cape in order to examine "Hut Point" and the residue of Shackleton's 1902 Discovery expedition. Scott's tension with Shackleton is apparent in the day's journal entry, in which he decries Shackleton's recklessness in leaving the hut exposed: "...he went away and left the window open; as a result , nearly the whole of the interior of the hut is filled with hard icy snow, and it is now impossible to find shelter inside." (Journals, p. 91, Carrol & Graf [1996]).
On 17 January 1911 - Scott could celebrate the completion of the new wintering hut at Cape Evans. "We took up our abode in the hut today," Scott exclaimed, "and are simply overwhelmed with its comfort." (Journals, p. 93, Carrol & Graf [1996]). It is much remarked by those who would divine general leadership principles from Scott's work, that he ordered that the hut be divided into separate quarters for the officers and the "men." But Beryl Bainbridge defended him: "...it was not that he considered the men inferior, rather that he felt both groups would be more comfortable with such an arrangement." (Bainbridge, "Foreword," Journals, p. xvi-xvii, Carrol & Graf [1996]). In any case, considering the narrow confines and the crowd that would occupy the place, Scott exuded his early optimism in summing up things. "In a day or two the hut will become the most comfortable of houses." (Journals, p. 95, Carrol & Graf [1996]).
Photo:
Commander John Bortniak
NOAA Corps
via Wikimedia Commons
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