Followup: Scott versus Amundsen

The Right Honourable Meester Ludwig asks a question, and since he is a man of considerable resource and sagacity, the question is a good one:

Not to be tetchy about such a tragic expedition, but weren't Amundsen's folks also in the same boat, and yet they made it to the Pole and back in good order?

It will come as no surprise that Cherry-Garrard answers this question in quite some detail. The reasons are various and intertwined:

1. The first difference between the two expeditions was one of motive. Amundsen’s goal was to get to the Pole and come straight back, with no further purpose than to be first on the scene. Scott’s expedition, by contrast, was a full-fledged scientific mission which stayed in Antarctica for 3 years before and after the attempt on the Pole itself. This meant that Scott faced a number of constraints and tradeoffs that Amundsen simply did not have to deal with.

(Examples of these tradeoffs: speed versus endurance; supreme adaptation to one task versus flexibility and versatility; lightness and maneuverability versus sturdiness and durability. And that’s just the equipment).

2. The difference in motive led to major differences in strategy. Specifically, Scott espoused a ‘slow-and-steady’ philosophy: laying depots, man-hauling large quantities of supplies, establishing multiple base camps and transit huts, and so on. Amundsen’s plan by contrast was more ‘smash-and-grab’ in nature.

As it turned out – and unfortunately for Scott, there was no way to know this beforehand – ‘slow-and-steady’ was not a viable strategy in the Antarctic. The debilitating effects of prolonged exposure to severe cold, on men, animals and equipment, were far greater than anyone had foreseen – perhaps even greater than anyone could have foreseen. Even worse, these effects were insidious, cumulative, and viciously non-linear, so that even a prudent explorer might think his expedition was in good shape when in reality it was on the brink of catastrophe.

3. Moving from the abstract to the concrete, Scott’s scientific mission dictated the location of his main base camp, at McMurdo Sound. This in turn dictated the route he would follow to the Pole. And the route dictated his mode of transport: ponies for the initial stages across the Ross Ice Shelf and the Barrier, then man-hauling up the Beardmore Glacier, and skis across the polar Plateau. This route was probably more difficult, and certainly longer, than the one taken by Amundsen, who used dog teams and skis from the Bay of Whales up Axel Heiberg Glacier to the Pole.

(Note, incidentally, that Scott’s route had been partially reconnoitred by Shackleton in the Nimrod expedition of 1907-10, while Amundsen’s route was brand new; Amundsen took a gamble, and it paid off).

4. Given his route, Scott thought he had no alternative but to use ponies. Big mistake. Scott’s ponies (not in the best condition to start with – a failure of expedition planning) suffered tremendously on the ice, while Amundsen’s dogsleds did just fine. This was perhaps the single biggest (and certainly most obvious) determinant of the failure and success of their respective expeditions.

5. Scott did not carry enough food. For that matter, neither did Amundsen. But since the latter’s journey was much shorter (there’s that slow-and-steady thing again), it didn’t matter too much. Scott’s party, though, suffered terribly from calorific depletion (especially the heavier men like Seaman Evans) and from scurvy (Lieutenant Evans). Mind you, both Scott and Amundsen provisioned their expeditions using the best information available to them at the time; it's just that the state of the art in nutrition science was lamentably backward (why, the term 'vitamin' was coined only after Scott's death).

6. Scott ran out of oil. This was a failure of equipment: the dramatic variations in temperature loosened the cork stoppers and allowed paraffin to creep through the leather lining of the storage flasks. Amundsen encountered the same problem and had his bottles welded shut, multiple times.

7. Scott was a fine leader of men but not, perhaps, the best organizer of them. For example, too many tasks were allocated by asking for volunteers, with the result that the willing and able were vastly overworked. To quote Cherry-Garrard, “Men were allowed to do too much, and then told they had done too much; this is not discipline”. Scott's character did not help: authoritarian at times, sentimental at others, moody and possibly manic-depressive, stubborn, impulsive, and occasionally aloof; he was also warm, generous, unstinting in his work, immensely durable, and an inspiration to his men. A fairly volatile mix of characteristics; perhaps they contributed to his demise, but perhaps without this mix he would never have reached the Pole in the first place. The fact remains, though, that at crucial times, Scott made some very questionable decisions.

8. Most famously, Scott decided, at the last minute, to take 5 men to the Pole instead of the 4 originally planned. This was another bad mistake. All the equipment (skis, stoves, tents) was optimized for a 4-man party; the marginal cost of the extra man was far more than 25%. For example, cooking for 5 on a 4-man stove took twice as long as cooking for 4. This was a clear example of sentiment overruling rationality, and presumably Scott would not have taken the extra man along had he known how close he was to the brink(see point 2 above). But he made the decision, and paid the price.

8. It was bloody cold. Temperatures at the Pole were lower, and for longer, than anyone had expected; indeed, there is evidence that the summer of 1911-12 was exceptionally cold even by Antarctic standards. This compounded all the ills described above.

That’s the executive summary. But to quote Cherry-Garrard again, “Of course the whole business bristles with what-ifs”. And plenty of books have been written post-morteming the two expeditions. Two which I can recommend are Roland Huntford’s “Scott and Amundsen”, republished as “The Last Place on Earth”, which is critical of Scott, and Ranulph Fiennes’ “Captain Scott”, which is almost a direct rebuttal. Cherry-Garrard’s own final chapter, titled “Never Again”, is a quite harrowing (because personal) series of second-guesses; the author is unable to relinquish the nagging possibility that some action done or left undone may have saved the lives of the Polar expedition party. The truth is, we shall never know.

Postscript: Further reading: “South” by Ernest Shackleton, and “Scott's Last Expedition”, being the journals of Robert Falcon Scott.

Book Review: The Worst Journey in the World

[Editorial Note: This review was originally written in 2002]

In one of the essays in "Fresh Air Fiend", Paul Theroux writes that when people ask him to name his own favourite travel book, his answer is almost invariably "The Worst Journey in the World". Theroux goes on to state that "the book goes in and out of print, but it is indestructible, because it is a masterpiece". With a recommendation like that, how could I not snap up the book the instant I saw it, at Landmark in Kolkata a few summers ago? And I'm glad I did; this is now my favourite travel book as well, and one of the best books I've ever read in any genre of writing: I cannot recommend it highly enough.

At 24, Apsley Cherry-Garrard was the youngest member of Scott's ill-fated expedition to the South Pole. He was an unlikely explorer: slight in build, nearsighted to the point of blindness, and painfully shy. Yet he made up for his physical failings with a combination of enthusiasm, selflessness and gritty determination that won the respect of the rest of the expedition; it was a bitter blow to him to be left out of the party chosen to make the final race to the Pole. But much worse was to come. Cherry led the dog team that went out to search for Scott's missing party, and he was forced to turn back (by bad weather and low rations) just two miles away from where (unknown to him) Scott and his friends lay helpless and snowed in. It was a decision that would haunt Cherry for the rest of his life, and it colours every page of his book.

The 'worst journey' of the title, though, came much earlier; it refers to 'the winter journey', a harrowing trip across the Antarctic glacier in the depths of the polar winter to retrieve eggs from the nest of the Emperor penguin. Along with Scott's second-in-command Edward Wilson and the seemingly indestructible Henry 'Birdie' Bowers, Cherry lugged 350kg of food and supplies hundreds of miles across rock and ice, in temperatures reaching -75 C and amid almost total darkness. This was Cherry's finest hour, a feat of superhuman endurance and staggering courage, and one which brought out the very best in this modest and unassuming man (though typically, he does not dwell on his own deeds). Yet it was also this journey that broke him; it rendered him unfit for the more glamorous dash to the pole, and left him sickly and pensive for the rest of his days.

Mind you, there's a lot more to the book than journeys across the ice-pack, fascinating as they are. Cherry describes the sea voyage to Antarctica, the setting up of the expedition's base camp, the inhospitable yet weirdly beautiful scenery, the routines of life in the frozen winter darkness, and the characters of the men he travelled with, all in vivid, captivating detail. His prose is graceful and unadorned, yet its matter-of-fact recounting of minor details is more moving than any amount of sensationalism could be. There's never any striving for unnecessary effect, and the author's idealism and admiration for his companions shine through every word.

Most of all, this is a book about heroism. There's really no other way to put it. The members of Scott's doomed group were woefully unprepared and underequipped for the harshness of the Antarctic winter (remember, this was nearly a hundred years ago, before the widespread adoption of such vital aids to polar exploration as plastics, radio and the internal combustion engine). Yet even in the face of utter catastrophe they strove manfully on, displaying extraordinary amounts of courage, self-sacrifice and devotion to duty. They were doomed, but they went to their deaths with fortitude and dignity. "The Worst Journey in the World" is a fitting memorial to their bravery.

Postscript: The same book, as reviewed by my friend G:

Look Thomas. It's a good book and all, I'm not saying it isn't, but honestly, did it need to be 600 pages long? Especially since every page is identical. You can open the book anywhere and read the same stuff. "Very cold today. Smith's fingers fell off. Two dogs died." Bah, I say.

Return of the Revenge of the Son of Coffee Shack, Part Two: The Sequel

Yes, my devoted readers, your prayers have been answered. Coffee Shack, your favourite purveyor of wit and wisdom and all-round wonderfulness, is back in business. Oodles of new content await your reading pleasure. You lucky people!

Actually, though, I plan to cheat. You see, I already have lots of pre-existing guff to inflict upon you, written when I was a mere larva. I have no personal website on which to plunk this bounty. But I do have a blog. Even the terminally thick among you (you know who you are) should be able to put one and one and one together to get... well, to figure out my cunning plan.

Enough preamble. (Or mid-amble, as it were). Onward!