Scott vs Amundsen - a very British failure

- Episode 02-

The Worst Journey in the World

The Worst Journey in the World
26 March 2025
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NEW SERIES Scott vs Amundsen - a very British failure
There would be recitations of scripture and musical evenings...
Amundsen's base camp, Framheim, in 1911

Saturday was sauna night!

From March to October is the Antarctic winter, and there was nothing to be done for either team of explorers except hunker down in the wooden huts they’d brought with them.

At Framheim, on the Bay of Whales, Amundsen’s team now got down to work with a will. The carpenter Jørgen Stubberud extended the network of tunnels that connected the wooden living quarters he’d built with the snow caves where their stores were buried.

The others in Amundsen’s party spent their time refining and perfecting their equipment for the big push to the Pole. Olav Bjaaland from Telemark, was not only one of the best skiers in the world, but also a skilled carpenter. He spent these months meticulously preparing their Telemark skis and sleds, shaving them down and reconstructing them to reduce as much weight as possible. Whatever free time he had he spent making a violin that he would eventually finish back in Norway. Apparently it played very well.

Saturday was sauna night. They shaved on Sundays. They celebrated birthdays and other special occasions with Aquavit. The mood was confident. Meanwhile, Amundsen’s men ate raw or half-raw seal meat, which previous expeditions had proved to be the best way to boost their intake of vitamin-C and avoid getting scurvy.

#109 The Worst Journey in the World 
Ep 2 Scott vs Amundsen - a very British failure




 
Scott's hut at Cape Evans. It's still there - with separate dining rooms, and separate loo-blocks for officers and men. 

Scott's 'residence'

Scott had erected his hut in McMurdo Sound, on a small promontory of rock and moraine he’d renamed Cape Evans in an attempt to placate his second in command Teddy Evans. He wrote, ‘the word hut is misleading. Our residence is really a house of considerable size, in every respect the finest that has ever been erected in the polar regions.’

Here, by contrast, all the chores were being done by a few overworked volunteers while the others apparently did nothing useful.

The non-commissioned sailors or ratings were tasked with overhauling the equipment for the march on the Pole, but they didn’t have the skills or the motivation to make any attempt to refine or re-make the skis and other equipment, and they worked perhaps half the day and no more. There was no attempt to take skiing instruction from Tryggve Gran, brought along for this very reason, or to learn how to build igloos. The men ate the lamb and beef they’d been donated by New Zealand farmers – good for morale, but useless against scurvy.

On 27 April 1911, Scott announced the timetable of indoor entertainment for the harsh winter months.  They wouldn’t waste time honing their equipment for the march on the pole. Instead they would improve their minds with illustrated lectures on anatomy, vulcanology and travel. There would be recitations of scripture and musical evenings. There would be two lectures on horses, but none on dogs.
‘I don’t know whether it is possible for men to last out that time… I almost doubt it' - Scott



 

Man-hauling on the Beardmore Glacier, December 13th 1911. Front from left – Cherry-Garrard and Bowers. Rear from left – Keohane and Crean, while Wilson pushes.

The Worst Journey in the World

Apsley Cherry-Garrard was a young zoologist who had paid his own way to come on the expedition. In 1922 he published an account using his diaries and those of the men who died with Scott. He called it The Worst Journey in the World.

Back in 1911, on 2 March, over a year before their deaths and the day after three of their best ponies had drifted away on the ice because nobody had dared question Scott’s orders, Scott had told Cherry-Garrard that ‘this is the end of the pole.’  On 17 March 2011, exactly a year before Oates would die on their way back from the South Pole, Scott confided in his journal, ‘it is ill to sit still and contemplate the ruin which has assailed our transport.’

By 27 April 1911 he had rallied. He announced the timetable of entertainment for the winter and scheduled a lecture by himself for 8 May. It was entitled ‘Future Plans for the Expedition.’ He would explain his new method for getting to the glacier, up and over it, and on to the pole with their poorly depleted number of ponies, and malnourished dogs.

On the day of Scott's lecture the Russian dog expert, Dimitri Gerov, was not in camp. Nor was Cecil Meares, who had purchased the dogs and whom Scott had put in charge of the dogs. Hmm.
 
So what was the new plan Scott presented? He wrote ‘I could not but hint that in my opinion the problem of reaching the Pole can best be solved by relying on the ponies and man-haulage. With this sentiment, the whole company appeared to be in sympathy.’ 

Was he being entirely honest? There was, indeed, a British Naval tradition of man-hauling sledges, drawing on a kind of pride in manliness that Scott and the other naval officers on the team admired. 

But as long ago as 1876, after a disastrous Arctic expedition, one former sledger had written about man-hauling sledges, ‘I would confine everyone who proposed such a thing in a Lunatic Asylum, burn every sledge in existence and destroy the patterns.’
 
Scott had presented his plan with pages of calculations – distances, loads, food for the men, fodder for the ponies. But the dog men had not been present. And those present were given no other option but to agree with him. Civilian meteorologist, George Simpson, wrote, ‘I think what he said comes as a revelation to us all… He went into great detail and long calculations, and it appears that with all our resources there is little margin.’
 
Setting out in June 1911 (the heart of winter) on a short hike to collect Emperor Penguin eggs. From l to r Bowers, Wilson and Cherry-Garrard. They barely made it home. Photo by Herbert Ponting.

Following Shackleton's footsteps but not his advice

Robert Scott intended to retrace exactly the route taken by Ernest Shackleton three years earlier. Shackleton had got to within 97 miles of the pole before he’d been forced to turn back. Scott would be beginning 400 miles to the west of Amundsen.

On 8 May 1911 Scott now told his team that they would be leaving at the start of November, which was later than Shackleton, partly because warmer conditions would better suit the struggling ponies. But this would of course mean returning later when it was colder. In fact, according to Scott’s schedule, they would not now return until 27 March 1912, which was well into the next Antarctic winter.


Shackleton had warned that it would be too cold to attempt anything after the end of January, when temperatures would drop to -75.  You might be able to save your feet from frostbite at -50 but not at -70. Sweat turns to ice inside your boots as well as all over your body.  

The danger of attempting an expedition in the polar winter was made all too clear when Wilson, Apsley Cherry-Garrard and Henry ‘Birdie’ Bowers had been sent out in June 1911, in temperatures below -50C, on a short, 70-mile hike to collect the eggs of the Emperor Penguin. They did eventually make it back. But only just.  

In such extreme temperatures their sleeping bags became impossible to get into, and so the men had resorted to letting their bags freeze open each morning and then laying them flat on the sledge. By the end of the trip, each seventeen-pound bag had accumulated up to twenty-seven pounds of ice. ‘The worst job,’ the 25 year-old Cherry-Garrard wrote in his book, ‘was to get into our bags: the second or equal worst was to lie in them for six hours.’  The men had suffered uncontrollable shivering and recurrent nightmares.

But despite this sobering example, Scott did not move his dates forward. It meant that, if they ever made it to the South Pole, they would be man-hauling their sled back, weakened from the journey, hundreds of miles into the blizzards of the Antarctic winter.

Scott knew it was madness. After his lecture on 8 May 1911 Scott confided to his diary, ‘I don’t know whether it is possible for men to last out that time… I almost doubt it.’
 
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