Edward Evans Stands Accused of Sabotaging Scott’s Southern Journey.
Did his actions lead to the deaths of the Polar Party, in 1912?
Arguably the best known scientific Antarctic venture was the British Antarctic Expedition of 1911–1913 led by Captain Robert Falcon Scott. Whilst the so-called race to the geographic South Pole with Roald Amundsen’s Norwegian Antarctic expedition excited international interest, the tragic death of Scott and his returning Polar Party was a striking reminder of the hazards of operating in the south. Recent work has highlighted the possible role expedition second-in-command Lieutenant Edward ‘Teddy’ Evans played in the deaths of Scott and his men. Here I report newly discovered documents which, when placed in a wider context, raise significant questions over Evans’ behaviour during the expedition. The evidence focuses on the shortage of food at key depots, the apparently deliberate obfuscation of when Evans fell down with scurvy and the failure to pass on orders given by Scott. It is concluded that Evans actions on and off the ice can at best be described as ineffectual, at worst deliberate sabotage. Why Evans was not questioned more about these events on his return to England remains unknown.
Captain Robert Falcon Scott’s, British Antarctic Expedition (1910-1913), also known as the Terra Nova Expedition, is in my opinion the most convoluted saga ever to play out on the ice of Antarctica. It is a complex tale of plot and subplot, with 34 men comprising of the Shore Party and Scientific Staff, who in the close confinement of their huts, and the vast expanse of the Antarctic wastes, weaved the epic tale of scientific research, pioneering journeys, glorious triumphs and desperate tragedy.
It is of course the desperate tragedy, with the death of all five members of the polar party, that has dominated and formulated opinion of the expedition ever since. Every available aspect of the venture has been scrutinised and re-scrutinised. When men die someone must be at fault, it seems. Despite the fact that Scott, Wilson, Edgar Evans, Oates and Bowers, all died returning from the southerly depths of the most inhospitable and remote territory on earth, many have sought to find a human element to assign the burden of blame to.
Scott himself has come under fire for perceived fault, the accusations ranging from bad planning, and his choice of ponies as a mode of transport as opposed to dogs, to his placement of One Ton Depot and his selection and demotion of the various members of the supporting teams, on the southern journey. All can be validly argued, and indeed counter argued, in most instances. Albeit that is, the placement of One Ton Depot, 30 miles shy of it’s intended standing, which did of course have massive repercussions, on the homeward journey. Lawrence Oates walked to his death, in the latitude where it should have stood, and Scott, Wilson and Bowers, all died, 11 miles shy of it’s more northerly footing. Continue Reading →
Honouring Tom Crean.
Centenary Expedition with the Crean family.
Honouring Tom Crean is a new book that charts the expedition by descendents of Kerry Antarctic explorer Tom Crean, to South Georgia on the centenary of his heroic traverse of the island with Ernest Shackleton and Frank Worsley.
Honouring Tom Crean: a centenary expedition with the Crean family
By Bill Sheppard
Aileen Crean O’Brien
Team Tom Crean faced serious challenges when Tom Crean’s granddaughter, Aileen Crean O’Brien, had a serious accident on the second day of their traverse on a hostile and remote Antarctic island
In Honouring Tom Crean: a centenary expedition with the Crean family, Bill Sheppard records the expedition he undertook with family members of the Antarctic explorer on the centenary of the Kerryman’s historic traverse of South Georgia with Frank Worsley and captain of the Endurance, Ernest Shackleton. Wishing to honour their renowned grandfather and great-grandfather, the Crean O’Brien family decided to retrace his footsteps on the thirty-six hour traverse that finally brought the three men to Stromness whaling station and salvation after months of being stranded in the frozen ice.
The book details the training and funding challenges Team Tom Crean faced in the year before departing Ireland for Antarctica. Once on the Shackleton Traverse, they believed they were finally close to completing their lifelong dream when disaster struck and Aileen had an accident that resulted in members of the Crean family, along with Bill, again being tested to the limits of their endurance on South Georgia.
Over many days, they faced physical and mental challenges which, Bill writes, they sometimes struggled to overcome. In their darkest hours, however, the spirit of the man they had come to Antarctica to honour inspired them to endure and to not give up. A century on, Bill Sheppard shows that Tom Crean’s character lives on, not just in his descendants but also in a very real way in the place where he made Polar history.
Captain Scott’s Terra Nova Expedition 1910 – 1913.
A Photograph Gallery.
A collection of some of the lesser seen images captured on Robert Falcon Scott’s, ill fated Terra Nova Expedition.
Commander Evans observing an Occulation of Jupiter’, Antarctica, 1910-1912. Edward Evans (1881-1957) was second in command of Captain Scott’s Antarctic expedition of 1910-1913. He led the last supporting party to accompany Scott’s polar team, but was taken seriously ill with scurvy on the return to the expedition’s base. As a result he was sent home aboard the ‘Terra Nova’ in March 1912, but returned the following year to pick up the surviving members of the ill-fated expedition. From Scott’s Last Expedition, the journals of Captain Robert Falcon Scott. Artist Herbert Ponting. (Photo by Historica Graphica Collection/Heritage Images/Getty Images)
Demetri Gerof with a dog team at Cape Evans photographed during the last, tragic voyage to Antarctica by Captain Robert Falcon Scott, circa October 1911. Scott was tutored by Herbert Ponting, the renowned photographer who was the camera artist to the expedition, which enabled Scott to take his own memorable pictures before perishing on his return from the South Pole on or after 29th March 1912. (Photo by Captain Robert Falcon Scott/Popperfoto/Getty Images)
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Shackleton, Crean and Worsley Complete The Rescue.
22 Men Plucked From Elephant Island On August 30th 1916.
On August 30th 1916, the impossible happened! Ernest Shackleton, Tom Crean and Frank Worsley returned to the desolate outcrop that is Elephant Island, aboard a ship named Yelcho.
As the 22 stranded men had watched the James Caird lifeboat disappear over the horizon into the monstrous Weddell Sea, on April 24th 1916, Frank Wild optimistically opined that they would all be saved within four or five weeks.
In reality the chances that the six men – Shackleton, Crean, Worsley, McCarthy, Vincent and McNish – could survive an 800 mile crossing of the most desolate stretch of ocean on the planet were virtually nil.
Yet they did! Then, leaving the shattered John Vincent and Harry McNish in the care of Timothy McCarthy, the three men made the first ever crossing of the alpine interior of South Georgia. They reached the whaling station at Stromness on May 20th, and the seeds of what would prove to be a protracted rescue were sown.
On the fourth attempt the sea ice that had thwarted their three previous voyages, finally afforded the men the long sought passage to their stranded comrades on Elephant Island. Within an hour of location, all 22 men had been ferried aboard the Yelcho, and they set sail for Punta Arenas, Chile.
“As I manoeuvred the Yelcho between stranded bergs and hidden reefs, Shackleton peered through his binoculars with painful anxiety. I heard his strained tones as he counted the figures that were crawling out from under the upturned boat. ‘Two – five – seven -‘ and then an exultant shout. ‘They’re all there, Skipper. They are all safe! His face lit up and years seemed to fall off his age. We three* solemnly shook hands as if we were taking part in some ritual.”
Quoted from – F.A. Worsley, Shackleton’s Boat Journey.
*Shackleton, Worsley and Crean, shook hands – a quite modest acknowledgement of the successful conclusion of their heroic endeavours.
“The Voyage of the James Caird, which was set in motion on April 24th 1916, when the tiny lifeboat was dragged from the relative safety of the grim desolate beach on Elephant Island, and cast into the most tumultuous and tortuous body of water on the planet, had finally reached conclusion. Six brave souls had climbed aboard and pitched themselves against almost certain oblivion, to somehow conspire to not just survive, but to endure, overcome, return, and pluck their comrades from the jaws of death, and from the final unbelievable chapter of the epic tale of The Endurance Expedition.”
Tom Crean Antarctic Explorer Portrait.
To mark the 79th anniversary of the death of the Antarctic explorer, Tom Crean, this is a digital artwork, entitled ‘Tom Crean Antarctic Explorer Portrait’. Continue Reading →
When Your Life Depends on It:
Extreme Decision Making Lessons from the Antarctic.
By Brad Borkan and David Hirzel
To those of us that engross ourselves in the captivating histories of the expeditions of Antarctic exploration, it is all very matter of fact. We know the ships, the men, the tragedies, the triumphs, the many tales of heroism and the prerequisite hardships. Shackleton came agonisingly close in 1907, but Amundsen won the ‘race’, beating Scott to the South Pole, in December 1911. Scott had never subscribed to the race nonsense, but nonetheless arrived in second place, on January 17th 1912. “Great God this is an awful place”, he opined. It truly was. And the awfulness of the most hostile continent on the planet, had yet to truly bare it’s teeth.
Amundsen had quite effectively used dog teams to bridge the distance, whereas Scott had opted for the more cumbersome components of ponies and man hauling. Amundsen and his team, returned to their base camp, 10 days ahead of schedule, whilst Scott’s party never made it back, dying in wretched circumstances, on the Ross Ice Shelf.
Before the remnants of Scott’s expedition had even left the continent aboard the Terra Nova, in January 1913, Douglas Mawson’s, Australasian Antarctic Expedition, was writing the next grisly chapter in Antarctic exploration. Mawson had turned down the opportunity to join Scott, instead deciding to explore King George V Land and Adelie Land. What ensued for Mawson, Ninnis and Mertz, was a tale of tragedy, madness, death and survival.
Then came Shackleton again, in 1914. The Endurance Expedition, was exactly what it said on the boat. Ignored advice, trapped in the ice, life on the ice, escape from the ice, cold, hunger, sickness, isolation, deprivation, amputation, determination, formulation, one last voyage, one lifeboat, six men, eight hundred miles of Weddell Sea, South Georgia reached, a mountainous range for three to traverse, salvation at last on reaching Stromness, and eventual rescue, after months of attempts.
Brad Borkan and David Hirzel, in their book, When Your Life Depends On It, challenge you to look at these remarkable events, from a different perspective. They place us, the readers, into these life and death situations, encouraging us to assess how we might have responded. They explore the teamwork, leadership, camaraderie, sheer grit and determination, and explain the methods and lessons that can be garnered from them, and put to use in our modern world. Continue Reading →
The Tom Crean 312 Cycle.
312 KM From Naas to Annascaul.
“Next Saturday 24th June, a group of eight of us from Naas Cycling Club are undertaking an epic one day cycle in honour of Tom Crean. We leave Naas at 5 a.m. and cycle to Athy to visit Shackleton’s Statue and then head for Annascaul, via Limerick to hopefully arrive at Tom’s statue at 7pm. We will then retire to the South Pole Inn for recovery. The total distance is 312km or about 12 hours cycling time.”Peter Grady
The Voyage of the James Caird.
April 24th – May 10th 1916.
The Endurance Expedition (1914 – 1917).
It is without doubt the greatest open boat journey ever undertaken. Six men dragged their timber lifeboat down the rocky shore of Elephant Island, and cast themselves and boat, into the might and fury of the notorious Weddell Sea. Within moments the turbulent Southern Ocean had tipped the boat, plunging Harry McNish and John Vincent into the frigid waters. A grim reminder of what lay ahead, as the two men clambered back ashore.
And it was a gruesome journey. Shackleton would later recall “The tale of the next sixteen days is one of supreme strife amid heaving waters. The sub-Antarctic Ocean lived up to its evil winter reputation.” ‘Supreme strife’ scarcely conveys the immediate experience of McNish and Vincent, yet alone the remainder of that dreadful passage. It was 800 miles, over the course of sixteen days, in which time, they caught a glimpse of the sun, on only three occasions. That Worsley could guide them to that speck on the map, named South Georgia, in such circumstances, was a feat of navigational brilliance. On the tenth day at sea, the boat was walloped by an enormous wave, which towered above the vessel, before slamming down on them. The physics of the impact somehow contrived, that they emerged from the monstrous hit, afloat, albeit practically submerged. They bailed frantically for their lives, succeeded, and sailed onward. Ever onward. Continue Reading →
The Southern Sky Rescue Attempt.
The Endurance Expedition – May 23rd 1916.
Shackleton, Crean and Worsley had stumbled into Stromness whaling station on May 20th 1916, to the utter disbelief of all who endeavoured there. The trio were unrecognisable, shattered, destitute men, who had just completed the most epic of journeys, traversing ice, sea and uncharted land. With McCarthy, Vincent and McNish, they had left their 22 comrades behind on Elephant Island, on April 24th, and sailed over 800 miles across the storm lashed Weddell Sea, in their lifeboat, in search of rescue for them. That 16 day voyage was a hellish passage, that ended on May 10th 1916, in the death throes of a violent hurricane, that had enveloped them for the previous 24 hours. Somehow they had summoned the strength to fight the storm. Somehow, as they were tossed and battered by wind and wave, they had managed to avoid the rocky approaches and cliff faces of South Georgia, that the elements continuously hurled them towards.
As the fury abated, making landfall was of paramount importance. As to where, hardly mattered. These men were physically and mentally shattered, and parched; their fresh water supply having run out days beforehand. So dry were their mouths that they could not eat. There is no wrong side of the island to land upon in such a situation. Even in the relative post hurricane calm, it was an extremely difficult task, to weave their tiny timber boat through the rocky agglomerations that constitute the island.
Having finally landed, they found themselves on the opposite side of the island, to their intended destination of Stromness, but more importantly they found a fresh water stream. Over the course of the next few days the men recouped, for the task ahead. They sailed further up the inlet of King Haakon Bay, and set up quarterage, using the upturned James Caird, as as a shelter, at a place they named Peggotty Camp. Continue Reading →
Disaster On Denali.
An Irishman’s fight for survival on North America’s highest peak – Denali.
It is almost two years since I was first in contact with Jerry O’Sullivan, from Ballinhassig, in Co. Cork. At the time Jerry had left a comment on a post I had written about Tom Crean’s epic solo march, in February 1912. It referred to Crean’s rationing of the few pieces of chocolate he had carried, on that trek, and how it had inspired Jerry in 2011, as he lay alone on top of Alaska’s Mount Denali, with a broken leg.
Naturally I was eager to learn more from that intriguing snippet of information, so I contacted Jerry and asked if he would be interested in sharing his story, and he kindly agreed. This is his story.
Disaster on Denali
by Jerry O’Sullivan
In April 2011 my friend Tony and I landed in Anchorage, Alaska for an early season climb of Denali (at the time officially called Mt. McKinley). Standing at 20,320ft Denali is North Americas highest mountain.
We joined the rest of the group which consisted of five Americans, three of whom were guides, and one Swiss climber. We packed up food for a three week trip and following a gear check we drove a few hours to the small town of Talkeetna, which is the last stop for those heading to Denali.
There we registered with the National Park Service, weighed our gear and waited for a weather window, which would allow us to fly into the mountains. A few hours later we and our gear, were loaded on two Beaver turbo-props and on our way over the vast wilderness that is Alaska. Not for the faint hearted. Our plane journey brought us very close to surrounding mountains and through “one shot pass” to our landing site on the soft snow at basecamp, on the Southeast fork of the Kahiltna Glacier. The planes were quickly unloaded and camp set up for the night.
We were at an elevation of 7,200ft and had 3 weeks to attempt the summit and get back to basecamp in time to catch our flight out of the mountains. We were ready.
Over the next two weeks we made our way up the mountain fully loaded with food, personal and group gear in our backpacks and sleds. The approach to dealing with the weight of our gear and the altitude was to “carry and cache” loads at higher elevations during the day and return to camp at lower elevations to sleep. The following day we would move to a higher camp before returning to recover the buried cache. This method along with rest days brought us up the mountain through camps at 7,800ft, 11,200ft, 14,200ft and finally high camp at 17,200ft. We climbed landmarks such as Motorcycle hill and Ski hill and rounded the famous Windy Corner. The scenery was wild, beautiful and pristine as we looked down on the endless surrounding peaks, the most prominent being Mt Hunter and Mt Foraker.
On 8th May after a long tough day we reached high camp. The weather forecast for the next two days was for a high winds but those winds never came. One of the American climbers had left our group to return to base camp a few days earlier. The long climb to high camp took its toll on another so we were left with four climbers and two guides hoping to make the top.
Wednesday, 11 May 2011 began like the previous two days, bright with little wind. It was decided to go for the summit. We left high camp at approximately 10:15 AM in two rope teams. The first section of the climb was over a route known as autobahn. This is a steep and dangerous section which requires climbers to clip in to pickets along the route to avoid falling. Due to this terrain we did not stop for a break until reaching the top of the autobahn at Denali pass some three hours later. Then disaster struck. Tonys hands felt cold on the way up and when he removed his gloves, his fingers were white. It was a frightening sight. Just three hours into summit day and Tony had suffered frostbite! The only option was for him to descend to camp with the second guide and seek medical help. I decided I would go back with Tony but the guide said there was no point in turning around at this stage. We carried on up the mountain though feeling great disappointment that Tony was being robbed of his chance to make the summit. We were now a team of four, three climbers and one guide roped together. Continue Reading →