The story of The Belgica Expedition and how a charlatan's reputation may be restored. A long article excerpted from Madhouse at the End of the Earth: The Belgica’s Journey Into the Dark Antarctic Night, by Julian Sancton.
I first heard of the Belgica expedition in the spring of 2015, while procrastinating at my desk at Departures magazine.
I was flipping through the latest issue of The New Yorker when I found a headline that caught my interest: “Moving to Mars.” It was about an ongoing experiment taking place on Hawaii’s Mauna Loa—about as close as the earth gets to a Martian environment—in which six volunteers lived in isolation under a geodesic dome for a NASA-funded study on team dynamics, in preparation for eventual missions to the Red Planet.
In classic New Yorker fashion, the author, Tom Kizzia, backed into the story. The first few paragraphs were about an expedition that took place 120 years ago, involving the first men to endure an Antarctic winter. Kizzia mentioned the “‘mad-house’ promenade” around the ship, a phrase that immediately jumped out at me. I was intrigued to find out what possible connection there might be between the Belgica and far-flung space exploration. But even more fascinating to me was the character of the physician, Frederick Albert Cook, known as one of America’s most shameless hucksters, who through relentless ingenuity nevertheless managed to save the expedition from catastrophe.
I’ve always been drawn to heroic antiheroes: Sherlock Holmes, Butch Cassidy, Han Solo. When I looked further into Cook’s story and learned that he lived out his final days in Larchmont, New York, in a house I pass every time I walk my dog, it felt like a sign: there was no way I wasn’t writing this book.
Thus began a five-year obsession that took me across the world, from Oslo to Antwerp to Antarctica, on the trail of the Belgica and her men. The narrative that unfolded before me, through diaries and other primary sources, turned out to be far richer than the simple good yarn I’d imagined at first. The expedition shaped two future giants of exploration, one rightly revered, Roald Amundsen, and one unfairly maligned, the aforementioned Cook. It culminated with an epic breakout from the tenacious Antarctic pack ice that, in its scale and ambition, rivals the greatest man-versus-nature struggles in history and literature. And its legacy proved much more consequential than the mere survival of (most of) its men.
One of the challenges I faced in recreating a journey that took place so long ago, and in such extreme isolation, was getting access to the sensory quality of the experience. Not just what happened day to day, or what coordinates the ship reached along her circuitous drift, but what it must have been like for the men aboard, both to discover such splendors and to endure such hardship. To my delight, it soon became apparent that the Belgica voyage was among the most well-documented polar missions of the heroic age, in which no fewer than ten men kept detailed diaries or logs (even though one was later burned). ...
https://lithub.com/polar-nightmare-on-one-of-the-first-international-expeditions-of-the-modern-era/
https://www.thecourier.co.uk/fp/past-times/3174758/alister-forbes-mackay/Alister Forbes Mackay: The Dundee student who went to the ends of the Earth with Ernest Shackleton
By Kate Brown
April 7 2022, 6.00am
He was the Dundee student who was part of the first expedition in the world to reach the top of Mount Erebus.
The story of Alister Forbes Mackay is one of the forgotten tales of Antarctic heroism.
Mackay applied to serve as junior surgeon on Sir Ernest Shackleton’s ‘Farthest South’ expedition on the Dundee-built ship Nimrod.
As part of the expedition, Mackay and his group reached the summit of Mount Erebus which is the southernmost active volcano on Earth.
But how did this young student from Dundee go on to reach such great heights?
Permafrost Postman Pat.
A British charity is searching for people to spend five months in Antarctica, to run the world's most remote post office.
The team will maintain the Port Lockroy base and be responsible for counting penguins, though will be without running water. The UK Antarctic Heritage Trust says it usually gets hundreds of applications for these jobs. It will be the first time the site will open to the public since the pandemic.
The trust, which is based in Cambridge, usually advertises annually for seasonal postmasters at the site. They are responsible for preserving historic buildings and artefacts in Antarctica. Successful applicants will be based on Goudier Island in the Antarctic Peninsula, with each other and a colony of Gentoo penguins for company.
Port Lockroy was the first permanent British base to be established on the Antarctic Peninsula, initially used from 1944 to 1962. However since 2006, it has been used as a post office and museum.
Candidates are required to have good level of physical fitness, environmental awareness and a knowledge of minimum impact living. They will be tasked with running the gift shop and post office, as well as conducting a penguin count as part of efforts to protect the Gentoo penguin colony. The team will also look after the artefacts and museum inside Bransfield House.
https://www.bbc.com/news/uk-60994404
…gentoo penguins…
How are they improved over the genone penguins?
maximus otter
Some derring do.
Australia has launched an urgent operation to rescue a researcher with a "developing medical condition" from the remote Casey outpost in Antarctica.
The icebreaker RSV Nuyina left from Tasmania last week, the Australian Antarctic Program (AAP) said. It is travelling thousands of miles to reach the station after an air rescue was ruled out due to harsh conditions.
The AAP said the researcher, an Australian, needs specialist treatment but did not name the condition. The programme added that it had taken weeks to prepare the Nuyina for the mission, including equipping it with helicopters.
Casey research station is a journey of 2,139 miles (3,443km) from Hobart in Tasmania and one of three permanent Antarctic stations run by the AAP.
The Nuyina, which cost A$528m ($342m; £271m) to build, has a top speed of 16 knots, or around 18 miles an hour, meaning a journey of several days.
It is understood that an evacuation by air was not possible - the nearby Wilkins aerodrome near Casey has an ice runway and is often unusable during the harsh winter.
According to reports the runway would need weeks of preparation to use, and therefore it is far quicker to send the icebreaker.
https://www.bbc.com/news/world-australia-66695682