Scott officially announced his second scientific and geographic Antarctic expedition on September 13, 1909—the day before Kathleen gave birth to their only child, Peter. The Royal Geographical Society, Nansen, the Admiralty, Barne, Shackleton, and others had known of Scott’s plans since 1907. Trials of the first motorized sledge were announced in January 1908, while newspaper reports of Scott’s marriage confirmed his plans to go south again. Further motorized-sledge trials took place in Norway in March 1909, with Nansen watching. There was no secret about Scott’s plans; his second expedition was known about for years.
In 1907, meanwhile, Norwegian explorer Roald Amundsen had announced his plans for an Arctic voyage, an attempt to be first to the North Pole. However, on September 15, 1909, American Robert Peary announced that he had reached the North Pole, while another American, Frederick Cook, claimed to have reached it in 1908. In secret, four days after Scott’s official announcement, Amundsen changed his destination to the South Pole. Only a brother knew. Even his patron Nansen—who lent him his ship Fram for the Arctic expedition—was not told. Historians who claim that Amundsen did not know of Scott’s expedition are clearly wrong. It was Scott who knew nothing of Amundsen’s plans.
French explorer Jean Charcot, also eyeing the Antarctic, stated: “There can be no doubt that the best way to the Pole is by way of the Great Ice Barrier, but this we regard as belonging to the English explorers, and I do not propose to trespass on other people’s grounds.” When Peary proposed an attempt on the South Pole—from the other side of Antarctica—he actually asked Scott if he had any objections. They met in London and agreed on joint scientific programs. Amundsen himself wrote to Nansen: “It is not my intention to dog the Englishmen’s footsteps. They have naturally the first right.” Yet that is exactly what he did.
Amundsen lied to Nansen, lied to the Norwegian government who helped finance him, lied to his sponsors, and lied to the press. Scott tried several times to contact Amundsen to arrange Antarctic-to-Arctic scientific programs, so Scott’s Norwegian skiing expert Tryggve Gran—recommended by Nansen—arranged a meeting. Scott and Gran traveled to Amundsen’s home, but Amundsen did not show up. His secrecy reveals his chicanery.
It was not until Scott and his seventy-strong scientific expedition reached Melbourne in the Terra Nova in October 1910 that they received the truth from Amundsen. He telegrammed: BEG LEAVE TO INFORM YOU FRAM PROCEEDING ANTARCTIC, AMUNDSEN. He had taken nineteen men, including a party of six champion skiers, and 120 dogs, and said he would be based on the opposite side of Antarctica.
When the news reached Norway, its people became hostile to Amundsen and Nansen remained ominously silent. Amundsen’s sponsors asked the government to request more funds from Parliament; the government refused.
Scott reached Ross Island again in January 1911 and established a new camp at Cape Evans, ten miles north of Hut Point. A larger hut was erected, and the huskies, ponies, the first motorized sledges in the world, scientific equipment, and stores were transported ashore. Scott’s plans for the next three years were many but simple.
Science was the major purpose of the expedition—the largest ever to Antarctica—and that is how it would continue. Scientific parties set out as planned that summer, including two more wintering-over parties to the north and east. Using dogs and ponies, they laid depots southward across the ice barrier for an exploration to the South Pole the following summer, while Hut Point hut was cleared of ice and used as a forward depot. Scott laid the first Antarctic telephone line between the two huts.
In February, during a voyage to deploy the eastern wintering-over party, the Terra Nova discovered Amundsen camped just along the Ross Sea at the Bay of Whales. To his credit, Scott never condemned Amundsen for his subterfuge, even in his private letters. In fact, his instructions to his men were to lend assistance if the Norwegians needed it. Scott knew how unstable the ice barrier at the Bay of Whales was. Amundsen was taking a gamble making a base there.
A Norwegian sailor wrote of their discovery: “Well, if they are planning something bad (we were constantly asking ourselves in what light the Englishmen would view our competition) the [120] dogs will manage to make them turn back…. I had better be armed for all eventualities.” The Norwegians apparently considered Amundsen’s actions so bad that they thought they might be attacked. Tryggve Gran wrote: “I think Amundsen’s enterprise falls far short of what a gentleman would permit: there is nothing like it in polar history.”
Even at Melbourne, it had been too late for Scott to make a race of it: he had only thirty-three dogs and seventeen Siberian ponies. Scott knew and admitted this. He wrote several times that if Amundsen found a route up the mountains suitable for dogs, he would undoubtedly reach the pole before him. Shackleton, though, had reported the Beardmore—the only known route—as unsuitable for dogs.
The irony is that American Frederick Cook had not reached the North Pole and it’s probable that Peary hadn’t either. After eighty years of doubt, Arctic and Antarctic explorer Wally Herbert, first to cross the whole Arctic via the North Pole, was given access to all Peary’s records by the American National Geographic Society. He concluded that Peary was probably thirty to sixty nautical miles west of the pole and knew it. The North Pole had been there for Amundsen to conquer after all.
During the winter of 1911, a dangerous and bitter journey in twenty-four-hour darkness was made from Cape Evans to collect penguin eggs. Dr. Wilson was attempting to establish the mutation of birds from marine to land life by examining penguin embryos. Wilson, Bowers, and Cherry-Garrard completed this harrowing five-week journey. They used themselves as guinea pigs, experimenting with three different rations to find the best for extreme polar conditions, as well as testing improvements in polar equipment and clothing. It’s from Scott, not from Amundsen’s reindeer skins, that modern polar clothing derives.
With the return of the sun in a cold September, Scott authorized three short scientific journeys. These included a twenty-mile run for airing the dogs to Hut Point and back under Cecil Meares and Demetri Gerof, British and Russian husky experts. Meanwhile, at the Bay of Whales, Amundsen, with six men and his dogs; set out for the South Pole on the eighth.
A week later he returned. Five of his dogs had frozen to death, with the other dogs’ paws cut and bleeding from the ice. His men were frostbitten and demoralized. There were accusations of cowardice, and a near mutiny by second in command Johansen. Having failed to learn from Scott’s and Shackleton’s earlier expeditions, Amundsen had not understood the differences between Antarctic and Arctic weather and snow. He banished Johansen and one other from the polar party and on his later return to Norway publicly humiliated him. Johansen later committed suicide. Amundsen then set out for the pole a second time, on October 19, with four men.
Tryggve Gran, who knew both Scott and Amundsen, was withering in his comparison of the two leaders. “Scott was a man. He would always listen to you. Amundsen would listen to nobody. He was only interested in himself. So Amundsen, as a human being, was not worth much, but Scott was worth a lot.” Without doubt, Scott had charisma.
From Cape Evans in October, the two motorized sledges set out hauling supplies for the polar depots. Those sledges were the world’s first tracked vehicles—forerunners of the tank as well as the modern polar sledge. They covered fifty-one miles across Ross Island and the ice barrier before breaking down, all that was expected at that first stage of their development. Photographer Herbert Ponting wrote: “To the memory of Scott must therefore be given the honour due to a pioneer of motor traction in the Polar regions, for he used it with a certain measure of success.”
Scott’s 883-mile polar journey started on November 1 with ten ponies and sledges. He had to reach Shackleton’s farthest south earlier than Shackleton, with more food and more fuel, in order to reach the pole and return safely. With Shackleton’s willing permission, Scott used his Beardmore Glacier route to the Polar Plateau, the only known route across the ice joint. In compa
rison, Amundsen took two huge gambles in that he hoped to find another crossing farther east as well as a glacier suitable for dogs.
Despite soft snow, the Siberian ponies averaged twelve miles a day across the ice barrier, the men skiing or walking alongside. The dog teams were the last to leave, for they were the fastest. Closer to the Beardmore, the ponies were killed one by one with a bullet to the head. Their meat was buried for use on the return journey, a precaution against scurvy and food for the dogs. At the foot of the Beardmore, an unseasonal four-day blizzard delayed the expedition.
Farther east and unknown to Scott, Amundsen’s good fortune was remarkable. He’d reached the mountains and found a passage across the ice joint. In addition, the glacier before him was not split by crevasses, ice falls, and chasms like the Beardmore—it was suitable for dogs. Near the top, Amundsen killed twenty-two dogs to feed the others.
Scott—who was nothing if not flexible—used his dogs two weeks longer than originally planned, hauling sledges a further forty-five miles up the Beardmore until it was too dangerous to use them more. Many of the roped men fell into hidden crevasses, but if a dog team had gone down, it would have taken its sledge, stores, and, possibly, the driver with it. Meares, Demetri, and their dog sledges returned to Cape Evans.
From then on sledges had to be man-hauled, yet both Scott’s and Shackleton’s experiences of the Polar Plateau showed that a good speed could be maintained. Three depots were left up the 136-mile glacier, and the Polar Plateau was reached on December 21. This was a scientific exploration, so the men were surveying, recording, mapping, and writing as they traveled because, in the future, others would follow. Robert Scott had a lot in common with James Cook. Both were Royal Navy, both were great explorers, both were scientists, neither would be unnecessarily rushed, and both looked after their men.
From the plateau, four more men returned, with Scott’s instruction to store dog food at One Ton Depot on the ice barrier. Eight men then continued toward the pole. On Christmas Day 1911, they hauled sledges for fifteen miles. Bowers observed: “One gets down to bedrock with everybody, sledging under trying conditions. The character of a man comes out and you see things that were never expected. I think more highly than ever of our leader.” Their average increased to twenty-three miles a day across the plateau and soon they were ahead of Shackleton’s time, mostly on skis but walking when it was faster. They were using the polar rations tested in the midwinter journey and found them sufficient, while two more depots were left on the plateau, at 3° and 1.5° degrees latitude from the pole. The two teams celebrated the new year in their tents, drinking tea with chocolate rations and talking until 1 A.M.
Copyright © 2009 by Graeme Neil Reid
On January 4, 1912, Scott announced the final polar party as Edward Wilson (doctor and scientist), Henry “Birdie” Bowers (Royal Indian Marine lieutenant, navigator, and meteorologist), Edgar “Taff” Evans (immensely powerful as well as their sledge and ski repairer), and Lawrence “Titus” Oates (Royal Inniskilling Fusilier also powerfully built). The three returning men were second in command Lieutenant “Teddy” Evans and stoker Bill Lashly, who were the most tired of them all, and Tom Crean. Scott judged Oates only slightly stronger than Crean, his most difficult choice of all.
Much has been written about why Scott took five men rather than four, but there’s no evidence that he had originally decided upon four. Four was often the sledging format employed, but not always: three men sledged south in the Discovery expedition. There is a sketch made by Wilson at Cape Evans of a five-man team, and it’s possible that is what Scott had always planned. A five-man team from the last depot to the pole and back makes a lot of sense. The sledge weight would remain essentially the same but for fuel and a sleeping bag, yet there would be another man hauling. In addition, five men is safest for crossing crevasses.
Scott’s last order to Teddy Evans was for the dog teams to meet the five returning men between 83° and 82° south, between the Southern Barrier and Middle Barrier depots, fifty to ninety miles from the Beardmore.
Southward the five sledged. They passed Shackleton’s farthest-south point on January 6. At 10,500 feet, they had to cross a sea of difficult fishhook ice waves, or sastrugi, and resorted to walking. They were back on skis by the tenth when the temperature plummeted. By noon of the sixteenth they were approaching the South Pole, a featureless white plain with a long downhill slope. They saw mock suns with long horizontal halos. At around 4 P.M. Bowers saw something ahead—a black speck, perhaps a cairn, perhaps a reflection from the sastrugi.
As they approached, the object grew into a black mark, then larger until they could see that it was a flag and an abandoned campsite. In the disturbed snow they saw sledge, ski, and paw marks. “The Norwegians have forestalled us and are first at the Pole,” wrote Scott. “It is a terrible disappointment, and I am very sorry for my loyal companions.”
Scott continued, navigating his own path to the southernmost point on earth and checking his position with sun sights. They camped and on January 17 marched outward on different bearings—“the coldest march I ever remembered,” wrote Wilson. With the sextants of the time, it was impossible to establish the exact location of the pole. Even the best of them were accurate only to about a quarter of a mile. Compasses were completely useless and spun wildly.
With the final set of sun sights, Scott and his men established their position at latitude 89° 59′ 14″ south, within three-quarters of a mile of the most southerly point on earth. They planted the United Kingdom flag.
Amundsen had been less painstaking with his sun sights. Wilson noted: “From Amundsen’s direction of tracks he has probably hit a point about 3 miles off…but in any case we are all agreed that he can claim prior right to the Pole itself.” In the Norwegian tent were the details and a letter for Scott from Amundsen. He had arrived on December 14, 1911, four weeks and five days before. Scott’s scientific exploration had taken twenty days longer to reach the pole than Amundsen’s racing expedition, which had left earlier.
“Great God, this is an awful place,” Scott famously wrote. It still is.
On the return journey, there was disappointment but no depression, observed Dr. Wilson. However, Scott noted on January 23 that Taff Evans was not well—“There is no doubt that Evans is a good deal run down”—but no one knew what was wrong with the powerful man. Back across the sastrugi, some skied while others walked, but none slowed the others and they still covered twenty miles on such days. They found all their depots and reached the top of Beardmore with no trouble. They had food and fuel and were on schedule to return to Cape Evans before the end of March, the end of summer.
On February 8 Evans was unable to haul, yet that was not yet alarming. There were good and bad days for all of them, and at the same place in 1909, Shackleton had had to stop hauling. Evans skied behind to resume hauling the following day.
The scientific programs continued. While descending the mountains, Wilson and Bowers uncovered rocks containing fossilized leaves, coal, and other minerals, with important discoveries at Mount Darwin and Mount Buckley cliffs. They collected thirty-five pounds of specimens. These discoveries established that Antarctica was once a warm-climate continent, and the Permian period leaf fossils led to the realization that it was once part of the ancient supercontinent “Gondwana,” with Australasia, India, Africa, and South America. Was carrying the thirty-five-pound samples critical? No. Such a small weight did not make any difference. What caused their later problems was something else entirely.
By February 16 the team was approaching the base of the Beardmore when Evans collapsed in the sledge harness. Dr. Wilson described Evans as “sick and giddy and unable to walk even by the sledge on ski, so we camped.” Scott recorded: “Evans has nearly broken down in brain we think.” Something catastrophic had happened to Evans, but no one knew what it was or how to treat it.
They were ten miles from the next depot. After a short rest, four men hauled the sledge while Evans ski
ed behind as he’d done before. He had troubles with his ski bindings and stopped at least twice to adjust them—a slow and bitterly painful business with sore and frostbitten hands. Gradually, he fell behind the others. At the next halt he was out of sight, so the four immediately went back to him.
Scott wrote: “I was the first to reach the poor man and shocked at his appearance, he was on his knees with clothing disarranged, hands uncovered and frostbitten, and a wild look in his eyes. Asked what was the matter, he replied with a slow speech that he didn’t know…. He showed every sign of complete collapse.” By the time they got him into the tent he was comatose. He died quietly at 12:30 A.M. without regaining consciousness.
There is only guesswork still about Taff Evans’s condition. Of the likely causes for his death, Dr. Wilson thought it might have been a brain hemorrhage caused by a fall into a crevasse two weeks before. In his “Message to the Public,” Scott put his death as “concussion to the brain.” Yet Scott actually recorded the beginning of Evans’s deterioration on January 23, before the fall. Wilson makes no mention of scurvy, and he would have known, being familiar with the disease. Scurvy takes three to four months to present itself, and it was only two and a half months since Evans and the others had eaten fresh meat. A recent theory is that Evans was suffering from cerebral edema. This condition of fluid on the brain was unknown in 1912, but it can cause sudden clinical deterioration of the body. It can be caused by infection, a blockage, a fall, even a minor stroke, and can be exacerbated by altitude.
The Dangerous Book of Heroes Page 43
