As nearly as they could, Jarvis and Stoukalo reproduced the clothing and gear that their predecessors had relied on nearly a century before. The total amount of food that they carried was equal to the week and a half’s worth of rations that Mawson and Mertz had been stranded with after Ninnis and his sledge disappeared into the crevasse. Like the AAE explorers, Jarvis and Stoukalo cooked up a hoosh made of pemmican, lard (instead of butter), and ground-up wheat biscuits. They drank tea, broth, and cocoa. Instead of dog meat—dogs have been banned altogether from Antarctica since 1994, out of concern that they might transmit canine distemper to the indigenous seals—the modern explorers ate kangaroo jerky, “as its leanness is very close to that of dog meat.”
Jarvis was not oblivious to the differences between his reenactment and Mawson and Mertz’s ordeal, but, curiously, he thought that all the logistical safety valves he built into his own journey threatened to pose a psychological disadvantage. As he later wrote, “Mawson and Mertz couldn’t stop; we, assuming the weather was good, could have been reunited with the [film] crew inside a day—a fact I suspected would make it harder, in many respects, to keep going.”
The change of location from Adélie Land to Princess Elizabeth Land, however, gave Jarvis and Stoukalo a huge advantage, one that Jarvis oddly fails to acknowledge in his expedition book. Not once on their long trek did the men even stick a foot into a bridged crevasse, let alone fall bodily into one. Nor did they have to steer clear of bad crevasse fields, as the Far Eastern Party had time and again both on the way out and the way back. The plateau across which they sledged happened to be one of those anomalously crevasse-free stretches on the southern continent.
Still, Jarvis and Stoukalo suffered extremely from cold and hunger. At the 200-mile mark, where the film crew awaited them, Stoukalo was “extracted” by helicopter. “Losing a Friend,” Jarvis titles the chapter in his book covering this part of the journey, and the chapter following (with no apparent irony), “Alone on the Shores of the World.” Of the days immediately succeeding Stoukalo’s departure, he writes, “I was feeling extremely isolated and the occasional presence of the film crew offered suprisingly little solace. I expended a lot of mental energy in the tent just remaining calm and patient and reminding myself of what had been achieved already on the journey.”
The comparison of Jarvis’s made-for-television reenactment and Mawson’s genuine ordeal serves not simply to undercut the gravity of the former. Jarvis was no dilettante of Antarctic travel, but one of its modern masters. What emerges from the recreation is a renewed appreciation of just how astounding a feat Mawson—and Mertz, before he weakened and died—pulled off. For through the first half of their journey, Jarvis and Stoukalo not only could not match the mileages the two men had covered in 1912–13, they fell far short of them. By the end of the journey, Jarvis had “caught up” with Mawson, and managed to finish his 300-mile trek two days faster than the man he was emulating. What is missing in Jarvis’s narrative, however, is an acknowledgment of the fact that Mawson was twice badly stalled on his homeward dash—for nine days while Mertz was too weak to move, and for another eight in Aladdin’s Cave as, without crampons, he dared not risk the final five-mile run to the hut. It was only because Jarvis suffered no such delays of his own that he was able to match and then barely exceed Mawson’s pace through the fifty-six days of his trek back to Winter Quarters.
At Davis Station, Jarvis was fêted not only by the film crew but by the scientists in residence. Instead of missing by five hours the ship that would have taken him home and being condemned to spend another winter in Antarctica, Jarvis luxuriated in a hot shower, a bed with fresh sheets, lavish meals, phone calls to his girlfriend and parents, and, before long, a flight home to Australia.
Jarvis is too savvy an adventurer to ignore the central lesson of his reenactment. At the end of Mawson: Life and Death in Antarctica, he tips his cap to Mawson and Mertz:
Despite pride at having completed my journey, I feel more than anything humbled by it. I have an even greater respect for what Mawson and Mertz achieved. Theirs was without doubt a terrible journey, and one that mine in the modern era could not claim to have replicated. I had done so as closely as I could and that was bad enough. By subjecting myself to a journey similar to that of Mawson and telling his story parallel with mine, I hope it will bring his ordeal to the attention of the larger audience I believe it deserves.
Before the hot shower and the clean sheets, the film crew imposed one last trial on Tim Jarvis. That was to recreate Mawson’s escape from the crevasse on January 17, 1913. The team scouted out a photogenic crevasse near Davis Station. Jarvis donned a modern climbing harness, tied in to a perlon rope, and was lowered 14 feet into the blue abyss. The harness was also tied to a hemp rope knotted at 15-inch intervals, replicating the rope that had connected Mawson to his sledge. Still belayed on the perlon safety rope, Jarvis tried to climb up the hemp rope hand over hand, as the cameras rolled. The struggle became desperate, and Jarvis almost gave up six feet below the surface. But:
I threw myself upward again with a mighty effort. . . . I thrust my left leg out and caught the hobnails on the toe of my boot on a small lip on the vertical wall. . . . With a frenzied push with my legs and a last weakening pull with my arms, I emerged on my stomach onto the snow. . . .
The camera rolled for another 30 seconds before the crew came forward and offered their heartfelt congratulations. I felt a great burden instantly lift. There was no more to do.
Unfortunately, the director now suggested that Jarvis perform the climb again, as Mawson had had to do after the lip of the crevasse broke on his first attempt, plunging him 14 feet back in to the length of his harness rope. Recognizing the justice of the historical analogy—“I owed it to Mawson”—Jarvis gamely volunteered. The team lowered him into the crevasse again. Still on belay, he grasped the knots in the hemp rope and pulled.
He got halfway out before collapsing and giving up. The second self-rescue was beyond his powers. In the end, the team hauled Jarvis out of his replicated death trap with the perlon rope.
Five years after making the first ascent of Mount Everest, in 1958 Sir Edmund Hillary led a team driving farm tractors adapted to polar terrain on a motorized journey from the Antarctic coast to the South Pole. His was the first party since Scott’s in 1912 to reach the pole overland. Hillary’s effort was a depot-laying mission in support of the first traverse of Antarctica, a massive effort organized by Sir Vivian Fuchs that finally accomplished the dream that Shackleton had tried to realize in 1914–17. By 1958, polar travel was still so daunting that driving tractors across the ice did not seem unsporting.
All his life, Hillary had a keen sense of the landmarks in the history of adventure. In 1976, he hailed Mawson’s solo struggle back to Winter Quarters as “probably the greatest story of lone survival in Polar exploration.” A few years later, Hillary outdid his own encomium. His final verdict on that journey deserves to stand as the enduring epigraph to Mawson’s deed: “The greatest survival story in the history of exploration.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I owe by far my greatest debt in the research for this book about Douglas Mawson and the Australasian Antarctic Expedition to Mark Pharaoh, the Senior Collection Manager of the Mawson Centre at the South Australian Museum in Adelaide. Mark knows more about Mawson than probably anyone alive, and during my week at the Mawson Centre he virtually turned himself over to me, offering again and again to help me hunt down whatever I needed or clear up my misconceptions. Thanks to his sage and comprehensive grasp of Antarctic history, I sidestepped many a foolish remark or outright error. Then, when I had finished the first draft of Alone on the Ice, Mark agreed to read it carefully, and in doing so he caught more infelicities and oversights on my part. In thirty years of museum and library research for various books and articles, I have seldom had as congenial a rapport with a scholar so gifted as Mark.
In Australia, I also received unfailing kindness and help from many st
aff members at the Mitchell Library in Sydney, the National Library of Australia in Canberra, the State Library of Victoria in Melbourne, and other curators at the South Australian Museum in Adelaide. Back home, I benefited greatly, as usual, from the incomparable collections at Harvard, particularly those of the Widener Library.
My friend from the Harvard Travellers Club, Rob Stephenson, whose “Antarctic Circle” is a splendid forum and resource about everything to do with the southern polar regions, gave me much advice and contact information. In two long visits to Rob’s library in Jaffrey, New Hampshire, I gained a firsthand acquaintance with books and papers I hadn’t known existed.
Other scholars who have written about Mawson and the AAE were unstinting in providing me with hints and help by e-mail. I’m especially grateful to Beau Riffenburgh, Stephen Haddelsey, Jonathan Chester, Heather Rossiter, the late Lincoln Hall, and Alasdair McGregor, not only for assistance but for the excellent books they’ve written, from the pages of which I gleaned many an insight. Alasdair and Margie McIntyre met me in Sydney for a fascinating lunch, during which they steered me in several proper directions. Margie also sent me a copy of Two Below Zero, cowritten with her husband Don McIntyre, an account of the joys and glooms of the first overwintering at Cape Denison since Mawson’s, which the couple accomplished in 1995.
During my sojourn in Australia, the intensity of library research was leavened by a long, blissful weekend in the Blue Mountains with my climbing, hiking, and writing buddy Greg Child and his precocious daughter, Ariann. A native Aussie, Greg had known the Mawson story since he was a young boy, and his appreciation of the achievement of one of his lifelong heroes helped me see Mawson better. As for Ariann, only six years old during our walks under the cliffs that July, every day spent in her company is a gift of delight. Salley Oberlin kindly lent us her house in Blackheath to use as a base camp.
Other friends and scholars who performed valuable services for me at the drop of a hat include Greg Glade, owner of Top of the World Books, and Shannon O’Donoghue, former director of the Banff Mountain Film Festival. In Australia, Jemima Mowbray, whom I’ve never met, solved the potentially herculean task for me of obtaining permissions to quote from the unpublished diaries of AAE members. Kathryn Sall skillfully drew the maps that illustrate this book.
At W. W. Norton & Company, my editor, Starling Lawrence, saw the excitement of the Mawson story from the start and smoothly helped me steer it into port. His assistants, Melody Conroy and Ryan Harrington, handled most of the inevitably fussy details of converting a passion into a book. Allegra Huston did an excellent job of copyediting my manuscript.
My agent, Stuart Krichevsky, championed the Mawson project in his usual brilliant fashion. This is the twelfth book Stuart has helped me publish, and I count it one of the best turns of fortune in my career as a writer that back in 2001, he agreed to take me on, despite his loyal commitment to many another writer. Throughout those eleven years, Stuart has never let the slightest whimper from this often insecure scrivener go unanswered. Stuart’s colleagues, Shana Cohen and Ross Harris, were enthusiastic and helpful at every stage of the game. (Thank God somebody like them understands the intricacies of the publishing business!)
Three close friends and my wife read Alone on the Ice in manuscript and gave me cogent reactions to the book. As always, I’m grateful to Jon Krakauer, Ed Ward, Matt Hale, and Sharon Roberts not only for faithfully reading what I wrote, but for telling me what they thought about it.
NOTES
The following abbreviations are used:
HOB: Douglas Mawson, The Home of the Blizzard, abridged edition (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1998). Unless otherwise indicated, all references to Mawson’s The Home of the Blizzard are to this edition. MAD: Fred Jacka and Eleanor Jacka, eds., Mawson’s Antarctic Diaries (North Sydney: Allen & Unwin, 1988).
Except where otherwise indicated, all references to Shackleton’s The Heart of the Antarctic are to the abridged 1999 edition.
1. FORGOTTEN BY GOD
15 After eight days: Mertz, diary, November 17, 1912.
15 Those eight days had been: HOB, 137–44.
16 “partly on account of”: Laseron, “South with Mawson,” 10.
16 “From the creation”: Ninnis, diary, January 22, 1912, quoted in http://www.mawsonshuts.aq/cape-denison/people.
16 Xavier Mertz was nicknamed: Laseron, “South with Mawson,” 10.
16 “a magnificent athlete”: Ibid.
16 his skill at making omelettes: Riffenburgh, Racing with Death, 102.
17 “from now our route goes”: Mertz, diary, November 17, 1912.
17 There is little or no evidence: Mark Pharaoh, personal communication, July 2011.
17 an outdoor dinner party: Flannery, This Everlasting Silence, 2–4.
17 In December 1910: Ibid., 12.
18 “this everlasting silence”: Ibid., 102.
18 “I have two good”: Ibid., 47–48.
19 Aboard the Aurora: HOB, 9–10, 13–14, 142.
19 Pavlova was an homage: Bickel, Mawson’s Will, 137–38.
19 On November 10: HOB, 140–42.
20 “got badly damaged by dogs”: MAD, 128.
20 Weighing ten pounds each: HOB, 141.
20 “In the morning I had backache”: Mertz, diary, November 12, 1912.
20 Another nuisance derived: HOB, 138.
20 A 35 mph wind: MAD, 129.
20 There, during a spring foray: Mertz, diary, November 13, 1912.
20 “Strong blizzard threatened”: MAD, 129.
20 “Our Eskimo dogs”: Mertz, diary, November 14, 1912.
20 On the 15th, Pavlova: Ibid., November 15, 1912.
21 “A rather miserable animal,”: HOB, 142.
21 “We leave camp”: MAD, 130.
21 “They ate ‘Gadget’ meat”: Mertz, diary, November 18, 1912.
21 “Beautiful weather”: Ibid.
21 “This area seems”: Ibid., November 15, 1912.
21 “We found that they were glad”: HOB, 143.
22 “The sledges were now commencing”: Ibid., 145.
22 “I stopped, because I felt”: Mertz, diary, November 19, 1912.
22 On November 19, Ninnis: Mertz, diary, November 20, 1912.
22 Mawson ministered to his teammate: HOB, 146.
22 During the first week: Ibid., 145, 147.
23 By November 20, the men: Ibid., 147.
23 The huskies continued: Mertz, diary, November 19, 1912.
23 “Jappy killed”: MAD, 133.
23 One such cynosure: HOB, 147.
25 more than 99 percent: http://www.coolantarctica.com/Antarctica.
25 “Suddenly without any warning”: HOB, 147–48.
25 Not long after that debacle: Ibid., 148.
25 “gave birth to the first”: MAD, 133.
25 “Returning, we diverged”: HOB, 148–49.
26 “detours”: Mertz, diary, November 21, 1912.
26 Sure enough, between November: MAD, 133–39.
26 “Great difficulty in getting”: Ibid., 137.
27 “The dogs are in good shape”: Mertz, diary, November 25 and 26, 1912.
27 On November 27, the men unharnessed: MAD, 137; Mertz, diary, November 27, 1912.
27 The very next day, Mawson: HOB, 153.
27 On November 22, the day: Ibid., 149–50.
27 The next day, Ninnis’s sledge: Ibid., 150–51.
28 “In front of us”: Mertz, diary, November 27, 1912.
28 “Just before lunch”: HOB, 154.
29 “Not less than 220”: MAD, 139.
29 “We have had a most aggravating”: Ibid., 138–39.
29 But on the 30th, they awoke: Ibid., 139.
29 “It’s difficult to travel”: Mertz, diary, November 30, 1912.
30 On “rest days”: Ibid.
30 Unwilling to waste: MAD, 139.
30 “The snow became”: HOB, 155.
30 Despite a full day’s: MAD, 140.
; 30 On December 2, a new obstacle: HOB, 155.
30 “The sledges flew round”: Mertz, diary, December 2, 1912.
30 During the next three days: Ibid., December 3–5, 1912.
30 “Ginger in last few hundred yards”: MAD, 142.
31 On December 6: Ibid., 143.
31 “Taunted by vivid dreams”: Ibid.
31 “This is an appalling state”: Ibid.
31 To make matters worse: Ibid.
31 “He had continued to do”: HOB, 158.
31 “Ninnis was not so badly”: Ibid., 156.
31 “The dogs and my comrades”: Mertz, diary, December 9, 1912.
31 During the next three days: Ibid., December 10–12, 1912.
32 By December 11, they had gained: HOB, 158.
32 On the 11th, Mertz calculated: Mertz, diary, December 11, 1912.
32 On December 10, Ninnis: HOB, 157.
32 On the 12th, the men: MAD, 145.
32 They abandoned the battered sledge: Ibid., 147.
32 Under Mawson’s direction: HOB, 158.
33 The men did not start moving: MAD, 147.
33 “We are apparently coming”: Ibid.
33 “Booming sound heard today”: Ibid.
33 “Soon we reached a flat area”: Mertz, diary, December 13, 1912.
34 Ninnis’s fingers were causing: HOB, 158–59.
34 “We were a happy party”: Ibid., 159.
34 The temperature at 9 a.m.: MAD, 147.
34 In the lead, Mertz sang: HOB, 159.
34 At noon, only a quarter mile: MAD, 147.
34 Shortly after noon, Mertz: HOB, 159.
34 “A moment later the faint”: Ibid., 160.
35 “I came to a gaping hole”: Ibid.
35 “I leaned over and shouted”: Ibid., 160–61.
35 By December 14, thanks: Ibid., 161.
36 “In such moments”: Ibid., 161–62.
36 “in case our companion might”: Ibid., 162.
36 In a stupor, the pair: MAD, 148.
36 So rigorously ingrained: Ibid., 147.
37 “At 4 am, we were on the way”: Mertz, diary, December 14, 1912.
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