It probably started when I was going a bit further than before on my bike as a kid. Or maybe it started the first time I backpacked around Europe. Or the time I sat on a bus traveling of Milan on a hot summer afternoon and thought, “nobody knows where I am,” and found that exciting. Ever since then, whenever it was, I’ve been obsessed (hmm, no, that’s not too strong a word, no) with the history of exploration.A group of adventurers going somewhere never gone; dodgy transport (probably a leaky boat); aggressive natives (usually just misunderstood); diminishing rations; dreadful weather; strong leaders; loyal animals (pack of sled dogs); certain death; possible glory; feats of endurance.
One of my favorite authors on the topic, Fergus Fleming, wrote an article in the New Statesman entitled, “What’s left to Discover?” In it, he explains the fascination with going new places:
“In all voyages there has been an element of romanticism – the reports of distant cultures, the tussles with ice, snow and sand, the insights acquired by boldly going where no man has gone before. Although discovery may be dead, romanticism ferments apace…With western religion in crisis and the political “isms” that once promised to replace it overturned, when dogma has been replaced by the uneasiness of personal responsibility, when we explore not the globe but the blank recesses of the web, it is little wonder that we look to the past. This is not mere nostalgia, it is something more complex – a longing for difference in an age of uniformity, and a paradoxical desire for both certainty of direction and the uncertainty of destination. Stripped of a collective goal, we are forced to admire a philosophy that lauds individual expression. On a mental and physical plane, no activity better reflects this philosophy than exploration.”
North Pole
There was a time when people thought that the North Pole was hollow and contained a race of Aliens living in a tropical paradise. Fleming’s book “90 Degrees North” is a great place to start for Polar exploration. Certainly, there were some strange attempts to get to the North Pole (The hot air balloon one was not as crazy as it seemed, and with a bit better planning might have worked you know. Poor guys.), but there were three particular giants of the North that you really should know about.
- Nansen – (1861-1930) He didn’t get to the North Pole, but that didn’t matter. This is the grand-daddy master of all Polar exploration. He was the first person to cross Greenland, and did so on skis. He got closer to the pole, in 1895, than anyone had ever done before. He pioneered the rather inelegant method of ramming a boat into the ice and letting the flow carry it where he wanted to go. He served as an adviser and mentor to almost anyone who seriously wanted to go someplace cold, plant a flag and hope to survive the trip. For his incredible humanitarian work later in life, he won the Nobel Peace Prize in 1922.
- Peary – (1856-1920) Did he or didn’t he? Whether he made it to the pole before Cook is still a bit controversial (most figure he did, they think), but nonetheless, Peary was an innovative sort. Sort of a Inuit anthropologist, he studied their ways and then, recognising that the Inuit really did know a thing or two about Arctic survival, adopted them as his own.
- Cook - (1865-1940) Did he or didn’t he? He said he got to the pole the year before Peary. But, then, Cook wasn’t very methodical with his lying, having already been found for fraud when he said he climbed Mt. McKinley. And, although he really didn’t get to the pole (although he died never admitting that he didn’t), he did spend a lot of time up there, founded two artic exploration clubs and even worked a bit with Peary before they became fierce rivals.
- Barrow – Barrow, the British Secretary of the Admirality in the 1800s, needs to be mentioned for his relentless and regretfully failure-prone attempts to find the North West Passage. From Hamilton to Ross, he sent them all and not all of them came back.
Antarctic
- Scott - Sir Ranulph Fiennes, the most accomplished explorer living today, wrote a fine book on Scott. As the only biographer of Scott who has actually been where Scott went and did what Scott did, Fiennes is in a unique position to understand and pay proper tribute to this amazing man. Rather than portray him as incompetent, as many later critics have, Fiennes shows Scott as a pioneer, a leader, an innovator, and a scientist. His loss to Amundson in the “race to the pole,” (a race Scott never really declared he was interested in, more concerned with the scientific nature of his journey), is a tragedy. His death on the return trip from that race makes it more so . Why haven’t I written about Amundson? Because he wasn’t very nice.
- Shackelton - The single greatest tale of leadership and survival ever told. Check out this site, with photos from Frank Hurley of the 22month saga in the ice. You won’t regret it.
Australian
Since my wife is Australian, I’ve got a soft spot for Australian Explorers, who really did have a long way to go in order to get anywhere. Except for the South Pole, that is. Which is why they rather tended to go that way. The three most important:
- Sir Hubert Wilkins – Overshadowed by Mawson in Australian history, but this was, by far, the more impressive man. Perhaps it’s because he was more focused on the scientific aims of his travel than the glory. Nonetheless, his deeds as a World War I photographer, submarine pioneer, pilot, spy and more made him one of the most famous people in the world during his time. “The Last Explorer” is a great book covering the tales of Wilkins. And, among the many tributes this legend has received, he’d also be pleased to know that our first dog will bear his name.
- Douglas Mawson – Mawson was a geologist, and got his initial break with Shackelton. He was part of the first team to reach the South Magnetic pole, and led an Antarctic expedition after that, about which he wrote a book. Also served in WWII.
- Frank Hurley – Shackelton’s famous journey probably wouldn’t be remembered if it wasn’t for this incredible photographer. A “warrior with the camera,” he got his start with Mawson and spent time on the front lines of World War I with Wilkins.
