But, I have only slept three hours per night!

————Actually, I was so tired, so I fell a sleep writing this, which means, three more days, we have gone from Cusco to Puno to Lima, where I am sitting at the hotel waiting to finish the trip with a half day tour of the town which Fransisco Pizarro made the capital of Peru, Lima.——-

There´s so many details, except supplying the group with as much interesting stories as possible and details of everything, but you have to tend to everyone in the group with lots of care, attention and love, plus settle the wake up calls, see to that all the luggage get  picked up and moved to the rooms, see to that you as a tour guide looks neat and clean, always in a good mood, no matter how tired, well, it does work.! But it would be so much harder, without the help of the local guides.the ones in South America is the best in the world. One ends up with quite a few new good friends! They´re knowledgeable, funny, helpful and kind. And you learn so much from them yourself!

Well, this trip has been really great, and this is due to the clients and the local guides. Of course, Peruvians and Ecuadorians are really great in every way as a people as well. Best of all was Metropolitans great Faride Altamirano which made our trip a dream!

Aah, as regards to the negative sides of travelling the world, passing through Schiphol in Amsterdam is a really bad experience. The border police there, is becoming as unfriendly and arrogant as the Americans in the US, which by ease are the unfriendliest on earth. These two countries must have misunderstood the meaning of officers being employed by the people.

Naw, better you watch the videos and see the photos here!

My answer to this email was simple and direct: “You lost motivation and you hadn’t prepared enough!”

His email was similar to hundreds I have received in the last 25 years. After reviewing all of them at length, I realised these failed expeditions often had three things in common: Explorers had lost motivation, and they had failed to understand the need for good sleep, and the benefits of good food.

When the going got too tough, they proved not tough enough to keep on going! Key to any successful expedition is understanding why you go through all these hardships – at the most difficult of moments remember what it is that drives you, and draw on this, it can be your motivation.

Good sleep and good food are the two most important pillars of a successful expedition. If you don’t know how and where to pitch your tent, you will eventually fail due to lack of sleep.

The tent is your fortress and your home, where you spend most of your exploring life. This is where you rest, feed and recuperate. Don’t set off on an expedition until you can sleep very well in your tent. I have spent over 2500 nights in tents – many of them before even setting off.

As important, is being able to cook a great meal. You need energy and rest to be able to make the right decisions. So don’t leave before you know how to cook a gourmet meal on your petrol stove!

That said, you could just get out there! Trust me, this advice is only complementary; you really need to be out on the ground learning the lessons of exploration, if you want to succeed.

The first article was published here and the second here!

NAVY DEPARTMENT

OFFICE OF THE CHIEF OF NAVAL OPERATIONS

WASHINGTON 25, D.C.

From:  OINC, United States Antarctic

Service Expedition 1939-1941.

Your part in the 1939-1941 Antarctic Service Expedition

has at last been rewarded.  By special Act of Congress

a medal has been bestowed upon you.  It is thus the

expression of the appreciation of the American people

for your work in the Polar regions.

As Commanding Officer of this Expedition I desire to

congratulate you and to express my gratitude for your

part in helping to make this undertaking successful.

With this letter I send you my sincere good wishes for

your continued success and well being throughout your life.

I shall always be interested in your welfare.

[signed] R E Byrd

Richard E. Byrd

R. Adm.  USN (Rtd.)

But that wasn’t all. Not wishing to leave anything to chance, the author gently removed the lining of the case, and spied a pristine length of spare ribbon, whose colors invited the touch of its durable, tight weave.  Robert Colombo marveled at these discoveries, as he had no idea the items slumbered undisturbed all these decades.

According to the Papers of Admiral Richard E. Byrd, held at The Ohio State Univesity Archives, Colombo received his medal from the commanding general of the 9th Infantry Division, at Fort Dix, New Jersey (but does not indicate a date).  However, the front page of Fifth Corps’ newspaper, The Guardian, sounded off on January 8, 1954:  “Navy Decorates Cold Weather Expert.”  An accompanying photograph showed Master Sergeant Louis Colombo (373rd Armored Infantry Battalion, Wildflecken, West Germany), having the medal pinned on him by the battalion commander, Lieutenant Colonel William N. Colyer.  Between the newspaper report and the 1950s-era plastic award case containing the medal, the 1954 presentation has solid support.   Perhaps an intended Fort Dix presentation was never carried out?

The years after Colombo returned from the frozen continent for the last time were still filled with cold and ice – at the other end of the world.  He embarked on a Army career, and with his polar experience known to the higher ups:  Colombo was sent to a secret weather and radio outpost on Baffin Island (in the Canadian Arctic archipelago), taught cold weather survival, served on Greenland’s icecap, and was then ordered to Belgium as a rescue unit specialist during the Battle of the Bulge, but the fighting had run its course by the time he arrived.

The spirit of Jack Frost never left Dog Driver Louis Colombo. During the 1928-1930 expedition, the flight over Marie Byrd Land brought into view a mountain in the Edsel Ford Ranges (76º31′S, 144º44′W), and a decade later, Colombo and his dogs roamed the area with a United States Antarctic Service’s biological party.  On New Year’s Day 1947, that mountain officially became Mount Colombo.

Footnotes

1 The Dr. Arthur B. King Collection (Morton & Eden, Oct. 3, 2003, lot 620) featured a gold issue to a seaman and fireman aboard the S.S. Eleanor Bolling, which is named:  CARROLL B. FOSTER JR.

2 As chilly as this temperature is, it doesn’t hold a candle to the record lowest temperature ever recorded on Earth:  -129 °F.  This on July 21, 1983, at Russia’s Antarctic Vostok Station.

Note:  This article first appeared in the Journal of the Orders and Medals Society of America (January-February 2011, Vol. 62, No. 1)

Acknowledgements

A special note of thanks is due Ms. Laura J. Kissel, Polar Curator, Byrd Polar Research Center Archival Program, for her professionalism and generous assistance.

Mr. Joseph Colombo

Mr. Robert L. Colombo

Mr. Robert P. Colombo Jr.

Ms. Leilani Henry

Dr. Alton A. Lindsey

Ms. Elizabeth S. Lindsey

Ms. Louise W. Lindsey, JD

Dr. Hal Vogel

References

Adams, Harry. Beyond the Barrier With Byrd: An Authentic Story of the Byrd Antarctic Exploring Expedition. New York: M.A. Donohue & Company, 1932.

“Alton A. Lindsey, 92, Dies; Ecologist Left Global Imprint.”                                                                                               The New York Times, Dec. 23, 1999.

Byrd, Richard E. Discovery: The Story of The Second Byrd Antarctic Expedition.                                                   New York: G.P. Putnam’s Sons, 1935.

Correspondence and Conversations with the Colombo Family.

Correspondence and Conversations with the Lindsey Family.

The Honours and Awards Presented to Admiral Richard E. Byrd.                                                                             London: Sotheby’s, Nov. 10, 1988.

Kroulik Jr., Alfred R. “Polar Awards of the United States: The Byrd Antarctic Expedition Medal, 1928-1930,” Journal of the Orders and Medals Society of America 40 (January/February 1989): 5-10.

__________________ “Polar Awards of the United States:  The Second Byrd Antarctic Expedition Medal, 1933-1935,” Journal of the Orders and Medals Society of America 40 (March 1989): 5-11.

__________________ “Polar Awards of the United States: U.S. Antarctic Expedition Medal, 1939-1941,” Journal of the Orders and Medals Society of America 40 (April 1989): 6-11.

Louis P. Colombo Papers (held by family).

“Navy Decorates Cold Weather Expert: Dog Sleds and Pemmican Recalled by Arctic Explorer.” The Guardian, Jan. 8, 1954.

The Ohio State University Archives, Papers of Admiral Richard E. Byrd, Record Group 56.1, folder numbers 635, 4808, 7304.

Reader’s Digest. Antarctica: The Extraordinary History of Man’s Conquest of the Frozen Continent. Surry Hills: Reader’s Digest, 1990.

Stewart, John. Antarctic: An Encyclopedia (2 volumes)                                                                                          Jefferson, NC: McFarland & Company, Inc., 1990.

Strandberg, John E. & Bender, Roger James. The Call of Duty: Military Awards and Decorations of the United States of America. San Jose: R. James Bender Publishing, 1994.

United States Board on Geographic Names (United States Department of the Interior),

http://geonames.usgs.gov.

Copyright 2009, Glenn M. Stein, FRGS

To reproduce or distribute, visit: gmsteinfrgs.icopyright.com

updated Aug. 4, 2011

GLENN “MARTY” STEIN, FRGS, is a polar and maritime historian who was born in Miami, Florida, and raised on a barrier island south of Cape Kennedy.  He has conducted research since 1975, and earned a bachelor’s degree in Public Relations and minor in History from the University of Florida.

Glenn’s writings regularly appear in journals and magazines, having published over 50 articles to date, and he has been acknowledged in several works on polar and maritime history, and medals. He is a Life Member of the American Polar Society, Fellow of the Royal Geographical Society (FRGS), and member of the International Exploration Society, Orders and Medals Research Society (UK) and Life Saving Awards Research Society (UK).

In 2006, Glenn was asked to be the website polar historian for the International Polar Year 2007-2008.  The invitation came as a result of applying to curate the exhibit, “The Lady Franklin Bay Arctic Expedition (1881-84) and the First International Polar Year” at the University of Central Florida, Orlando.  In acknowledgement of his contributions, he received the Certificate of Appreciation from the World Meteorological Organization (Switzerland) and The International Council of Science (France). Glenn is also the designer and a recipient of the 2009 Antarctic Treaty Summit Medal.

After several years of in-depth research on HMS Investigator and her crew, Glenn is currently writing a book about the 1850-54 expedition.  In 2008, his two-part article, “The Voyage of HMS Investigator (1850-54):  Solving the Mysteries of the Arctic Meritorious Service and Gallantry Medals,” was published in the Orders and Medals Research Society’s Journal.  The following year, Glenn was awarded the Journal Prize for this “thorough and important research into two little-known and rare Arctic awards”.

In 2011, Glenn began working with Parks Canada on its HMS Investigator/McClure’s Cache Project, contributing research and writings to the website as the project progresses.

LIFE CHANGING MOMENTS

by

Brian J. Leitten

There are a few moments in everyone’s life that can change a person in astounding ways. Some are moments of accomplishment, some of greatness and some that can totally clarify one’s life in an instant.

ACCOMPLISHMENT

My first moment of accomplishment came when I earned the Eagle Scout award in the Boy Scouts of America. I was 18 years old.

Copyright Tony Hoare

GREATNESS

When I was 22, it was a moment of greatness. I became financially independent from my parents.

CLARITY

Earlier this year, I experienced a life-changing moment of clarity.

In February, I found myself in the Patagonian wilderness of Chile, stuck on a mountaintop, four people crammed into a two-person tent, waiting out a torrential downpour that had been following my group for the last four days.

As mid-morning crept upon us, the clouds began to clear, revealing a majestic landscape of icy blue fjords and luscious green mountains. A rainbow graced the spine of a mountain range as some of the world’s top endurance athletes raced against time to reach the checkpoint where my group had camped for the night.

That was when it hit me. This is what I want to do with the rest of my life.

I wasn’t actually out in the wilderness racing. I was there documenting the athletes as they competed in the toughest competition known to man, the Wenger Patagonian Expedition Race. Last December I sent an email to the race, hoping to be chosen as a volunteer during the competition. I figured I would end up setting up tents in the wilderness or cooking food for the competitors as they passed through checkpoints.

Through a series of follow-up emails, I went from being a volunteer to a cameraman to a director and finally to the executive producer.  I’ve been in television production for close to a decade and this would be my first project as an executive producer.

I’ve had some challenging assignments in the past. Filming in Alaska while kayaking and backpacking, having music celebrities back out of appearances minutes before their tape time and the toughest by far, filming with a dance crew of 13 teenagers. Producing a documentary in the middle of the wilderness would prove to be the most difficult assignment of my life. Let’s play the numbers game:

4 Weeks – That’s how long I had to prepare for the filming, from 10,000 miles away.

10 Cameramen – I had never met any of them before. They had varying experience levels in filming and wilderness expertise.

7 Editors – Only 4, including myself, worked on the entire film. We had two who returned to the US, one who didn’t speak any English, two who spoke only broken English and one who became my translator.

600 kilometers – The distance of open wilderness the racers and the film crew had to traverse, using boats, trucks, helicopters, mountain bikes and our own two feet. 2 wild cameramen trekked with the first place team for 30 hours.

6 Nights – That’s how long I went with less than 2 hours of sleep while we were filming. 3 of those were with no sleep.

30 Days – We worked for 30 straight days editing the documentary together. Most of those days were 18 hours long.

Filming in the wilderness can get tricky — do you have enough battery power, memory and light? A lot of thought must go into the pre-production. No matter how thorough I try to be, I always leave something behind. This time I thought of everything, 4 cameras (10 batteries), 13 memory cards, a camera light and headlamp, a tripod and monopod a Costco size package of AA batteries, and that was just my equipment.

The crew started filming before I even got there. I had an edit to finish in New York and initial interviews had to happen while I was on a plane. In some cases it took two days to get to certain checkpoints, so I had to send cameramen into the wilderness before the race even began.

Copyright Scott Clark

The race started at Hotel Las Torres in Torres Del Paine and we had seven cameras ready to roll, more cameras then cameramen. As the racers jumped on their mountain bikes, we spent the first 60 kilometers of the race alternating between the back of two pickup trucks and leapfrogging the teams to film them pass us by. At one point 100-mile per hour winds attempted to stop the racers, the perfect moment for story. Also the perfect moment to ruin your camera. Putting a clear filter on my camera saved me when a small pebble struck the lense, cracking the filter. The race took to the water and so did half the crew, in small zodiac boats. The other half followed the river by truck, jumping out to film the two-dozen kayaks as they passed through canyons. I was dropped on an island and had the chance to film wild horses that lived there as the racers paddled past.

The first place team, ADIDAS TERREX PRUNESCO (England), was so fast they arrived at the next checkpoint before the film crew; I leapt out of the boat to film with them as they were transitioning to the first hiking portion of the race. I ran for about 10 minutes with them, and a 15-pound camera, as they raced into the dusk with the closest team 20 minutes behind. As I navigated my way back to the checkpoint, two more teams were coming out of the checkpoint and my stamina was put to the test again.

The next two days were a blur as my crew worked without sleep to edit together a newsreel that would be transmitted around the world. I send a camera crew back into the wilderness after just two hours of sleep.  And the rest of our crew had to take a seven-hour boat ride to get to the next major checkpoint. We can now say, that we have filmed in places that no human has ever been before.

We were moving on to the end of the trekking section and I spent the night on the beach waiting for teams to arrive in the darkness. None did.  As the rain started and the next day passed, only the lead team came into the checkpoint and was able to start the kayaking section. That night I saw a dozen headlamps on the mountainside and climbed as quickly as possible to film them coming down in the darkness. When I reached an intersection I knew the teams would pass, I waited…and waited. After an hour I guessed the teams had bedded down for the night, so I climbed back down to the checkpoint. The next day each team confirmed my guess. Their reason — it was too dangerous at night to climb down the mountain I had gone up and back down!

Teams went from kayaking beside stunning glaciers to trekking through an insanely dense forest. Two of the cameramen went out to film with the teams during the 191-kilometer section. The rest of the crew was on their way to the end of the trekking section, while I made my way to the mountaintop checkpoint I spoke about earlier. Luckily my trip was by helicopter. This was my first time filming from a helicopter and the first time I had ever flown in one. I had seen some amazing scenery up to this point but Patagonia from the air is breathtaking.

Only 7 of the 14 teams made it to that checkpoint and they described that trek as being the toughest trek in Adventure Racing history. One team member from EASTWIND (Japan) had been hiking for two days with broken ribs. Once they finished trekking, the remaining teams completed the course on mountain bike and the film crews were back to filming from the pickup trucks.

As teams completed the race in the volcanic park, Pali Aike, I felt like I was crossing the finish line with them. Completing the filming process, sleep deprived, with an unknown crew and in a country I had never stepped foot in before was a major accomplishment. But I still had to edit the raw footage into a documentary.

I lived in Punta Arenas for the next five weeks while we pieced the documentary together. I called on friends from New York City and Los Angeles to help with graphics, music and narration. There were two editors from Santiago who volunteered their time to edit the film and in the end I was astonished and incredibly proud of what we accomplished in such a short amount of time.

But it wasn’t all work and no play. One day while we were editing, we took a day-trip to Antarctica. We were there for a total of three hours and saw two operational bases, a Russian church, rusted tanks and a family of penguins. During the last week in Chile, I travelled to Parque Nacional Torres Del Paine with two volunteers from the race staff. It was amazing. We tackled the well-known W Trail, experiencing every possible weather scenario during out four-day trip. The first night we hiked through a monsoon. The next morning we awoke to sunny skies and the crumbling sounds from Glacier Grey. On our final day of the hike, we ascended to the towers hoping to watch the sunrise. Ten minutes after the start we were hiking in a blizzard. The skies opened for a perfect photo opportunity at sunrise but quickly closed again and continued snowing for the rest of our descent back to Hotel Las Torres. The entire trip was full of perfect picture moments. Turns out after all my preparation, I did leave something behind. Unfortunately I lost my camera on the bus back to Punta Arenas.

A day later I returned back to hustle and bustle of New York City, wondering what the next step in my life would be. I spent the next month getting reacclimated to the city where I had spent the last nine years of my life. I approached Outside Television in the US, they picked up the documentary and I started submitting to film festivals.

The Killarney Adventure Film Festival was my first submission. I went to Ireland with high hopes and left with my first festival win. Best Adventure Sport Film! From there we racked up two Best Environmental Film awards from the Colorado Film Festival and the Yosemite Film Festival, as well as a Best of the Fest award from the Vanka Regule Adventure Film Festival.

After that, I partnered with the Gold Rush Mother Lode Adventure Race in Northern California. I got lucky in this case — two of the cameramen from Patagonia came on board to help document the race. We filmed an amazing race with quite the finish. Keep your eye our for another great documentary, details to come…

2011 has been an incredible year, my “Year of Adventure”. I’ve gotten to do some amazing things and document some truly epic stories. I have even taken up Adventure Racing, with three races under my belt, including a second place finish at the last one. My racing partner was one of the producers from Patagonia. I already have my mind set on racing full tilt and filming in three new countries in the next six months and I’m working with two adventurers I met in Ireland to launch our own adventure race next year.

The Last Wild Race, the documentary about the Wenger Patagonian Expedition Race, is now available at https://prescreen.com/movie/The-Last-Wild-Race.

Brian is a multi award-winning producer and director that built his reputation working extensively with MTV and the music industry. In January, Brian started his own production company, Hyperion XIII Productions and has spent the past year focusing on adventure programming, filming in the Alaskan wilderness, Chilean Patagonia and Antarctica. He executive produced and directed The Last Wild Race, a documentary on the 2011 Wenger Patagonian Expedition Race, which world premiered at the Killarney Adventure Film Festival in April 2011 and walked away winner of the Adventure Sport category. He is currently producing for Fuse TV, VEVO.com and is creating a series on the Gold Rush Adventure Race in Northern California.

I am talking the well-to-do-world here, not the developing world, where bare funds and pure survival is an issue every day. But I am still strongly convinced, no matter how complicated your circumstances are, if you want something very much, you go for it and you will eventually get it. But, the reason I highlight this topic, is due to the fact that amongst the thousands of emails I have received since that initial moment of leaving, many simply ask, what does it take to fulfill their dream to do this or that? And, when I think profoundly about the subject, one of most common things said to me after a lecture, when people come up to me for a small chat or posing a question, they say (all men, by the way, older, over 50):

“I would have done exactly the same, if this and that wouldn´t have happened.”

Well, I have spent a lot of time thinking about this. Either you have the urge or not, but if you are right on the border, when it comes to go for it or not, whether it is a big Expedition or a weeks hike through the local mountains or forest, maybe these three tips can help you go for the adventurous choice. Because, there´s no doubt, every little adventure will raise your level of understanding and enjoyment of  life.

Planning is half of the fun, daydreaming a way to relax and once you leave, you will realize that reality is more fantastic than the dream.....

1. Half the fun of any Expedition or adventure, is planning it. Go to the library and get all those books, maps, travel guides, reference bibles and encyclopaedia’s. Start researching and read. And once you have made a picture of what you want to accomplish in front of you, once you have started to realize the dream, I am sure things will get in the way, obstacles such as well meaning family members or the pressures of culture, well, this is the time to leave the books and contact real people. Phone, email or in any good way, get into contact with people who´s been there, who can assist you with realizing your dream and I think there´s very few explorers or adventurers or specialists who wouldn´t help you. If they don´t, I feel genuinely sorry for them. Without these people I wouldn´t have chosen this life for myself. I remember such a decisive moment very clearly up until this day.

Just before leaving on my first big Expedition, the one on a push bike from Chile to Alaska 1986-1088, I went to the local library in Dala-Järna to return the last of the books I had read regarding my trip and met a very good friend there, Gösta Tysk (unfortunately he passed away last year), in those days a globally well known nature photographer, with Alaska as a specialty and we had spent hours together talking about this amazing place. This time, he was together with his wife. She said immediately after I had said that I am ready to roll:

“Do you think you can do it? I think it is impossible.”

Hearing those words where a shock to me! In a few seconds a lost all confidence and stuttering I tried to find my words, red faced of embarrassment….a fell silent. My good friend moved in and saved me with this words:

“Of course he can do it!”

That was all I needed. A bit of confidence. 2 years later I reached my goal. Thank God I didn´t listen to Göstas wife!

2. Don´t listen to the voices of negativity! I am amazed how many people who actually spend so much time of their possibility to live and enjoy life, to try to ruin the life of others who wants to go beyond the limits of their beaks. It is beyond my concept of understanding! And they´re everywhere. Family, friends, acquaintances, pals at work and school, media…well, everywhere, even amongst other travelers, adventurers and explorers…it is especially hard in the beginning until everybody realizes that you are a lost cause and let you get on with life. After that moment of discovery,  it is only opponents, media and people you have made unhappy along the way who will try to ruin your dreams…;-) As quick as you hear something negative, just turn of f your hearing and smile and say, yes, I will give that a good thought.

3. Buy the ticket! Once you have explained for those you love, why you have to do it, just buy that ticket and get on with it! And remember to enjoy every minute of it, whether it is a few days or many years, because next time around, it all starts from the beginning!

Second Byrd Antarctic Expedition Medal, 1933-1935

This morning, just 62 years ago, Byrd and his Ice Party members, including Yours Truly, sailed up the Bay to the D.C. Navy Yard. . .  So wrote Dr. Alton A. Lindsey to the author on May 10, 1997 – he had turned 90 only three days before.  In the early years of the Great Depression, he was at Cornell University studying for his doctorate in biology, when he interrupted this pursuit to serve as the vertebrate zoologist on the Byrd Antarctic Expedition II, 1933-1935.  While the interior of the continent was canvassed by dog sled, tractor and airplane, Lindsey studied penguins, seals and other animals on the coast.

After the successful expedition, the Second Byrd Antarctic Expedition Medal, 1933-1935, was established by Act of Congress on June 2, 1936.  Struck in sterling silver (oxidized, relieved and satin finish), 57 medals were issued, each having the recipient’s name impressed in sans serif capitals on the edge (I previously believed the naming to be engraved).  This figure represents 56 men in the Ice Party who spent the winter night (six months) at Little America plus one to Lieutenant (JG) Robert A. J. English, U.S.N., Master of the Bear of Oakland.  The medal to Admiral Byrd was issued in a named case, and this may have been a standard practice.

Hanging from a white ribbon, representing the snow and ice of Antarctica, the obverse depicts Admiral Byrd standing on ice in polar clothing; he is holding a ski pole in his left hand and a sled dog is seated on his right.  In the background there are large ice formations.  The dates 1933/1935 are to the right on the ice.  The whole is encircled by BYRD ANTARCTIC EXPEDITION.

The reverse features a central rectangular tablet with the wording: PRESENTED TO THE OFFICERS AND MEN OF THE SECOND BYRD ANTARCTIC EXPEDITION TO EXPRESS THE VERY HIGH ADMIRATION IN WHICH THE CONGRESS AND THE AMERICAN PEOPLE HOLD THEIR HEROIC AND UNDAUNTED ACCOMPLISHMENTS FOR SCIENCE UNEQUALLED IN THE HISTORY OF POLAR EXPLORATION.

The images surrounding the tablet evidently have not been fully described in literature before now.  To the left are two radio towers of Little America, to the right is the Bear of Oakland under full sail, and above what has been described as a “Ford Tri-Motor airplane” (without any landing skis); if true, this is the Floyd Bennett, salvaged from Byrd’s first expedition.  Finally, below the tablet is a team of four dogs pulling a man on a sled, with ice formations in the background.

Dr. Lindsey clearly remembered the October day in 1937 when he received his medal:

When the enclosed 1937 photo was taken by a Navy photographer (otherwise now unknown), the C[ongressional] medal had been pinned upon Wm. Haines, Byrd Antarctic Expedition II meteorologist, in the private office of Navy Dept. Secretary Claude Swanson, a famed statesman of that time (seated, because too feeble to stand).  [Swanson wrote the 9 1/2-page introduction to Byrd's Discovery:  The Story of The Second Byrd Antarctic Expedition]  He is only pretending to pin the medal on his friend Byrd (left, with famous Admiral Leahy behind his head), and even that was an ordeal.  Everyone looks so grim & unhappy because we, especially Byrd his great friend, were affected by Swanson’s condition.  I am the only young man shown in this photo. . .

But Dr. Lindsey held a more important memory of an intangible reward for service in the frozen south:

The expedition ended with President F.D. Roosevelt meeting The Bear May 10, 1935 on arrival, waiting on the dock at Washington Navy Yard.  I did, & still do, appreciate that handshake & conversation more than the Congressional medal.  There were 56 men on the Ice Party, and the scientific staff of 10, the flyers, a few military officers (perhaps a third of the personnel of 56, received the medal by mail, late in 1937).  Haines & I were living there in D.C.

In fact, the expedition formally ended six days later when the two main expedition vessels, the Bear of Oakland and Jacob Ruppert, sailed into Boston, where the participants were received at an official welcome home to Boston ceremony, hosted by the mayor.

The passing decades had not lessened memories of other former comrades on the ice.  Lindsey laid down the names of the seven ‘surviving Ice Party lads’ he knew were still living in 1997:

Dr. Erwin H. Bramhall (Physicist)

Stevenson Corey (Supply Officer & Dog Driver)

Joseph Hill Junior (Tractor Driver)

Guy Hutcheson (Radio Engineer)

Alton A. Lindsey (Vertebrate Zoologist)

William S. McCormick (Autogyro Pilot)

Olin D. Stancliff (Dog Driver)

Just off the northwest tip of Canisteo Peninsula in the Amundsen Sea, the twelve Lindsey Islands are features on the map today (73º37′S, 103º18′W). Dr. Lindsey wrote that the archipelago was personally discovered by Byrd in 1940, and the U.S. Board on Geographical Names (B.G.N.) website states the islands were delineated from air photos taken during the US Navy’s Operation Highjump in December 1946.  The B.G.N. named the group in January 1960.

Dr. Lindsey passed from the scene in the final days of December 1999, at the age of 92; he was believed to be the last living scientist from the Byrd Antarctic expeditions.  I was tremendously grateful we shared those letters two years before, but had no inkling our exchanges would eventually lead to aid in keeping alive memories of Dr. Lindsey and the Second Byrd Antarctic Expedition.

Beyond the 1937 photograph, I had never seen a picture of Dr. Lindsey’s congressional medal, and over the years that followed, my curiosity finally prodded me into contacting the Lindsey family.  During January 2009, I telephoned Louise W. Lindsey, the explorer’s daughter, and explained my association with her father.  She was extremely gracious and warm, and not only offered to take photographs of the medal, but also put me in touch with her mother, Elizabeth (who had just entered her 90th year).

In the early days of February, I heard Elizabeth’s gentle and confident voice for the first time; like Louise, she was eager to help with my research and learn more about the medal’s meaning.  Soon images of the medal arrived by email, and initially I winced:  a naked silver disc filled the computer screen.  The two top rings, ribbon, and brooch pin had all gone astray.  Upon asking Elizabeth if she knew the whereabouts of these pieces, she vaguely recalled seeing them at some point in time, but doubted they could now be pinpointed.  On a positive note, some of the images clearly showed the edge naming, A . A . LINDSEY.

Elizabeth’s explanation as to how the medal was passed onto her speaks of Alton Lindsey’s character.  As his 90th birthday approached, his family wanted the celebration to be an extra special one, but Dr. Lindsey would not allow any presents, instead he turned the tables.  He prepared several small gift boxes for some of his relatives, “with treasures from his long life of expeditions and travels.  My little box contained his Byrd Antarctic Expedition II Congressional Medal,” explained Elizabeth.

Before long, my brain cells were set apace, and I put forth an earnest suggestion to Elizabeth and Louise:  restore the medal.  I offered to hunt up a length of ribbon and pin brooch, and their local jeweler could attach the silver rings.  My idea surprised and delighted them, and so I bounded one step further:  What about having a portrait photograph taken, with Elizabeth wearing the medal in honor of her husband?  This idea was received with equal good cheer.

My attention now turned to the task of acquiring a ribbon and pin brooch; neither of which were readily available items.  As it happened, the Second Byrd Antarctic Expedition Medal was issued with a somewhat wider ribbon than what is standard for United States medals, and consequently was fitted onto a wider pin brooch as well.  A viable substitute for the first came in the form of a length of British Arctic Medal 1818-1855 ribbon, while the latter was satisfied by a pin brooch from a United States World War I Victory Medal.  Not perfect matches, but very close to the originals.

In late February, I dispatched the parts to Elizabeth, along with instructions for the repair.  Within two weeks, the jeweler carried out the work in a most satisfactory manner, and Elizabeth handily sewed the ribbon onto the pin brooch.  On March 17, Elizabeth and Louise sat for their portrait, the medal hanging from its snow white band stood out boldly out against Elizabeth’s red lapel; Dr. Lindsey’s congressional medal had been resurrected!

US Antarctic Expedition Medal, 1939-1941

On a typically brilliant Florida afternoon in January 2009, the author strolled into the inviting surroundings of Robert L. Colombo’s home, clasping his hand for the first time.  Having corresponded with Robert in October 1994 about his uncle, Louis Patrick Colombo, Robert and his sons graciously opened a window into their past.

As a merchant seaman in the early 1930s, Louis Colombo was a seaman and fireman on the Jacob Ruppert on her two voyages to Antarctica during 1933-1935, and also acted as an assistant mechanic to the Ice Party (but did not winter over).  In January 1934, while helping to offload supplies from the Jacob Ruppert, Colombo suffered a painful case of snowblindness; a sharp reminder of the nature of the beast.

Without being attached to the Ice Party, Colombo was not entitled to the medal for Byrd’s second expedition, but he must have felt otherwise, as a 1948 watercolor portrait in his Army uniform shows him wearing the 1933-1935 ribbon bar after that of the 1939-1941 medal.  However, a portrait photograph in uniform of the same period features only the latter ribbon, and thus hints of an “official correction”.  Today, the two Antarctic ribbons bars are mounted together, and grace the top of a homemade polar wall hanging several feet long.

In 1939 Congress established the U.S. Antarctic Service (U.S.A.S.), and an expedition under Byrd was sent south “to consolidate previous American exploration and to examine more closely the land in the Pacific sector.”  East Base and West Base were established (with Colombo serving as a dog driver and supply man at the latter), and a whole range of scientific studies were carried out.  Due to rising international tensions, both bases were evacuated by March 1941.  As a footnote, this was the first expedition to the region to bring back color photographs.

Congress established the medal on Sept. 24, 1945, and three levels were again created: gold (10k gold filled (plated) over copper alloy, satin finished with burnished highlights; sterling silver (oxidized), relieved and satin finish; and bronze (red brass, oxidized dark gray, giving a pale greenish-gold color), relieved and satin finish.  According to the Sotheby’s lot description of Byrd’s medal (Nov. 10, 1988), he received a unique genuine gold issue (unmarked).

In some instances, the recipient’s name was (deeply) engraved on the reverse in large and medium serifed capitals, and the author is aware of three medals (two gold and one silver) officially named in this manner:  REAR ADMIRAL RICHARD E. BYRD U.S.N. (RET.), LOUIS P. COLOMBO and LIEUTENANT COMMANDER CLAY W. BAILEY U.S.N.  However, the silver medal presented to George W. Gibbs Jr. (Mess Attendant 1st Class/Officers’ Cook 3rd Class, U.S.S. Bear) was issued unnamed.

Byrd’s medal was issued in a case with typewritten name attached (plus a citation with wording similar to that which appears on the medal’s reverse), and this may have been the usual practice.

Colombo passed away in October 1995 in his 84th year, but ensured the his treasured mementos from the polar adventures were eventually placed in the care of his nephew Robert.  Among the two stately stuffed penguins, photographs, documents and letters, was an official letter written to Colombo at Little America III (West Base), on Sept. 6, 1940.  It was from Arnold Court, Chief Meteorologist, United States Antarctic Service:

It conformance with your request, it gives me great pleasure to assure you officially that at the time we were outdoors yesterday, that is just before noon local (180th meridian) time, the actual recorded temperature of the air was – 74.0º Fahrenheit, that is, 72 degrees below zero, or 104 degrees below freezing.

At some point during the six hours previous to writing the letter, Court went on to note that the temperature actually went down to -75º, “I believe, the lowest temperature ever recorded at a permanent station in this area, or by any station of the U.S. Weather Bureau.”2

Colombo’s gold medal, stately resting in its 1950s-era plastic award case, stood out among the many varied items spread across his nephew’s dining room table.  The engraved lettering on its reverse showed no discoloration whatsoever on the copper alloy, and oddly, the medal had feel of being genuine gold.  It hung from a faded ribbon on its original slot brooch, and at some point, Colombo affixed to the ribbon a bronze WINTERED OVER clasp, as seen on a miniature Antarctic Service Medal (established 1960).

Also in the case was a faded ribbon bar, lapel pin and a much-worn lapel rosette.  The lapel pin stirred my curiosity, as it was not the flat enamel type often encountered.  In this instance, a bulbous piece of plastic was fitted over the colors.

Attention then turned to the plush dark blue pad upon which rested the above items. The pad seemed to ride a bit high in the case, creating a sixth sense that there was something more than met the eye.  Gingerly, the pad was lifted to reveal an ample reward:  Colombo’s Social Security card (issued during service at the Army’s Alaskan Arctic Indoctrination School), and two neatly folded pieces of paper, one of which was frail and yellowish-brown with age.

Both of the papers were letters from Byrd, relating to the issuance of the medal.  Like Byrd’s writings to Harry Adams, the frail letter spoke of a different age:

NAVY DEPARTMENT

OFFICE OF THE CHIEF OF NAVAL OPERATIONS

WASHINGTON 25, D.C.

July 7, 1947.

Mr. Louis P. Colombo

24-31 24th St.

Astoria, L. I.

New York

As you perhaps know, Congress has awarded a medal to the members of the 1939-1941 Expedition.  This medal was not finished until just before the departure of Task Force 68 [Operation Highjump, launched in August 1946, was a massive U.S. naval expedition to Antarctica].  The Secretary of the Navy decided, all of a sudden, that he wanted to give the medal to the members of the 1939-1941 Expedition who were going down on this present Expedition.

There was not time enough to notify all of the other members or to get them here.  I would like to arrange for the presentation of this medal to you.  What would be best for you?  Any one of the following procedures could be followed:

1.  We could perhaps have the Governor of the State present it to you.

2.  We might have the Commandant of the Naval District you live in, or the

Commanding General of the Area give you the medal.

3.  Or you might have the Secretary of the Army or Navy present it.

4.  Perhaps you might prefer to have me present it to you.

You might have other ideas.  Will you please write me at this office, room 4835, Navy Department, how you feel about the medal.  When you write, please mark an “A” on the outside with a red “Personal”.   My assistant here will then open the letter and will attempt to arrange things in accordance with your wishes.

Sincerely,

R. E. Byrd

[signed on his behalf]

R. Adm. R. E. Byrd, USN (Rtd.)

GLENN “MARTY” STEIN, FRGS, is a polar and maritime historian who was born in Miami, Florida, and raised on a barrier island south of Cape Kennedy.  He has conducted research since 1975, and earned a bachelor’s degree in Public Relations and minor in History from the University of Florida.

Glenn’s writings regularly appear in journals and magazines, having published over 50 articles to date, and he has been acknowledged in several works on polar and maritime history, and medals. He is a Life Member of the American Polar Society, Fellow of the Royal Geographical Society (FRGS), and member of the International Exploration Society, Orders and Medals Research Society (UK) and Life Saving Awards Research Society (UK).

In 2006, Glenn was asked to be the website polar historian for the International Polar Year 2007-2008.  The invitation came as a result of applying to curate the exhibit, “The Lady Franklin Bay Arctic Expedition (1881-84) and the First International Polar Year” at the University of Central Florida, Orlando.  In acknowledgement of his contributions, he received the Certificate of Appreciation from the World Meteorological Organization (Switzerland) and The International Council of Science (France). Glenn is also the designer and a recipient of the 2009 Antarctic Treaty Summit Medal.

After several years of in-depth research on HMS Investigator and her crew, Glenn is currently writing a book about the 1850-54 expedition.  In 2008, his two-part article, “The Voyage of HMS Investigator (1850-54):  Solving the Mysteries of the Arctic Meritorious Service and Gallantry Medals,” was published in the Orders and Medals Research Society’s Journal.  The following year, Glenn was awarded the Journal Prize for this “thorough and important research into two little-known and rare Arctic awards”.

In 2011, Glenn began working with Parks Canada on its HMS Investigator/McClure’s Cache Project, contributing research and writings to the website as the project progresses.

Three for Three:  Receiving America’s Early Antarctic Medals

by Glenn M. Stein, FRGS

Opening Antarctica’s Portal

In July 1895, the International Geographical Congress met in London, and after hundreds of years of attention being focused on its northern counterpart, it was decided that Antarctica would become the primary focus of new exploration.  Indeed, the southernmost continent is the only such land mass in our world where man has ventured and not found man.

Up until this time, no one had explored the hinterland of the Frozen Continent, and even the vast majority of its coastline was still unknown.  The meeting touched off a flurry of activity, and soon thereafter, national expeditions from Britain, Germany and Sweden, as well as private ventures, started organizing.  The Heroic Age of Antarctic exploration had begun.

Well after a British-dominated Heroic Age, Richard Byrd carried the Stars and Stripes into the Southern Ocean, first reaching the Ross Ice Shelf, near the end of the third decade of the 20th century.  Two more expeditions followed, earning Byrd a place in Antarctic history for his systematic development of using aircraft and aerial photography, two-way radio communication with the outside world, and the successful use of motorized tracked vehicles.

Though the Americans were at the forefront of what came to be called Antarctica’s Mechanized Age, trusty canines were still the locomotive mainstay for Antarctic explorers and remained so for many, many years to follow.  Revealed here are seldom seen glimpses of how early American Antarctic medals made their way to recipients.  All carried with them the spirit of pre-World War II polar exploration; but beneath their metallic shells lay something much more:  with each successive expedition, from whatever nation, the question of Antarctica’s future loomed ever larger, as territorial claims increasingly swirled like blizzards in the human mind.

Byrd Antarctic Expedition Medal, 1928-1930

Some men are wedded to the sea, and Harry Adams was one such individual.  The New York City native was born in the centennial year of the United States, his Scotch-English heritage crowded with oceangoing kin.

Adams chose to serve in the Navy and enlisted in its ranks; thereafter, working his way up to become an officer, and retiring as a lieutenant after more than 30 years in uniform.  In the process, Adams roamed the globe, saw active service in the Spanish-American War and World War I, and became an accomplished deep sea diver.

Though his life was inured to the ways of the sea, Harry Adams had “a creative turn of mind and [was] the holder of twenty-seven patents, the most of them being electrical devices.  Several radio sets and a number of valuable contributions to electrical fire control apparatus stand to his inventive credit.”

Having served on both Byrd expedition ships Eleanor Bolling and City of New York, Adams was one of the chief officers and navigators, and a member of the winter party.  When the expedition departed its Little America base to return home, Byrd knew he would be back, for he came away with more questions than answers from the frozen continent.

The first Byrd Antarctic Expedition Medal, like the one to follow, was extraordinary in that it officially commemorated ventures which were solely backed by popular subscriptions and donations.  Congress enacted the medal on May 23, 1930, and three levels were created:  gold (10k gold filled (plated) over copper alloy, satin finished with burnished highlights; sterling silver (oxidized), relieved and satin finish; and bronze (red brass, oxidized dark gray, giving a pale greenish-gold color), relieved and satin finish.  According to the Sotheby’s lot description of Byrd’s medal (Nov. 10, 1988), he received a unique genuine gold issue (unmarked).  Each medal had the recipient’s name impressed on its edge.1  Byrd’s medal was issued in a named case, and this may have been a standard practice.

Adams’ medal was mailed to him on September 8, 1931, and its receipt acknowledged the following day.  The old sailor thought so much of the accompanying letter, he reproduced it in his book, Beyond the Barrier With Byrd:

West Tremont, Maine

1 September 1931

Mr. Harry Adams

1408 W. Union Blvd.

Bethleham, Penn.

Dear Harry Adams:

It is with great delight that I present to you this Congressional Medal.

You gave many months of your life towards making our expedition successful.  Now that a year has passed since we have returned home I want you to know that my gratitude to you is as firm as ever – that throughout our lives whatever may be our various fortunes you will find that my appreciation will not grow less.

The time that has elapsed has only increased the respect of our countrymen for our expedition.  May the years ahead have the same effect.

The expression of this respect is this medal which is knighthood that your grateful countrymen have conferred upon you – the highest honor within their gift.  This is a recognition that will carry your name on the pages of history.

On the face of the medal there is mention of the expedition’s material accomplishments but what it represents in an even deeper sense is that which has been invisible, which cannot be described – the spirit of our expedition.

It is internal bitterness caused by fame, ambition, money and jealousy which, after the return home, has destroyed the spirit of most past expeditions.  You have not let these things touch you and so I congratulate you and am grateful to you in a double sense.  It is often more difficult to keep our sense of balance and proportion in civilization than in the polar regions.

It is my confident hope that this spirit will live as a bright page in history.

In conclusion, I want to say that whenever you come my way, you will receive a warm welcome and the hand of friendship.

Your friend,

RE Byrd

[signed]

Byrd poignantly addressed the “spirit of our expedition” and past destructiveness caused by the quest for personal satisfactions.  He also strikingly notes how navigating one’s way in civilization often presents more challenges than it does in the polar regions.  This is perhaps due to the unforgiving nature of the frozen world being divided between life and death, with nothing in between.

GLENN “MARTY” STEIN, FRGS, is a polar and maritime historian who was born in Miami, Florida, and raised on a barrier island south of Cape Kennedy.  He has conducted research since 1975, and earned a bachelor’s degree in Public Relations and minor in History from the University of Florida.

Glenn’s writings regularly appear in journals and magazines, having published over 50 articles to date, and he has been acknowledged in several works on polar and maritime history, and medals. He is a Life Member of the American Polar Society, Fellow of the Royal Geographical Society (FRGS), and member of the International Exploration Society, Orders and Medals Research Society (UK) and Life Saving Awards Research Society (UK).

In 2006, Glenn was asked to be the website polar historian for the International Polar Year 2007-2008.  The invitation came as a result of applying to curate the exhibit, “The Lady Franklin Bay Arctic Expedition (1881-84) and the First International Polar Year” at the University of Central Florida, Orlando.  In acknowledgement of his contributions, he received the Certificate of Appreciation from the World Meteorological Organization (Switzerland) and The International Council of Science (France). Glenn is also the designer and a recipient of the 2009 Antarctic Treaty Summit Medal.

After several years of in-depth research on HMS Investigator and her crew, Glenn is currently writing a book about the 1850-54 expedition.  In 2008, his two-part article, “The Voyage of HMS Investigator (1850-54):  Solving the Mysteries of the Arctic Meritorious Service and Gallantry Medals,” was published in the Orders and Medals Research Society’s Journal.  The following year, Glenn was awarded the Journal Prize for this “thorough and important research into two little-known and rare Arctic awards”.

In 2011, Glenn began working with Parks Canada on its HMS Investigator/McClure’s Cache Project, contributing research and writings to the website as the project progresses.

The why and how I made interactive Google Maps of Historic Events

by

George Stiller

I began making interactive maps of historic events because I kept going to Google Map to find the locations in the various books I had been reading. It struck me that it would enhance my reading if I created my own Google Map of the book.  Thus, I was able to zoom in on and track the locations and people while I was reading  about in both fiction and non-fiction books. Having developed several of these maps, I decided that I should share them with others who might find them interesting and try to teach others to map their reading. So I created my blog MyReadingMapped.

After a period of time, I noticed that the maps that got the most attention were those of historic events. So, I modified my blog to contain only maps on historic events. Then it dawned on me, that without a college degree, I have no credibility and that I am not a recognized authority on history. To solve that problem, I decided to find 100+-year old eFree Google Books, or online journals, written by the explorers themselves and even Wikipedia pages on the exploration that my map locations could be linked to on a by page basis for credibility.  Thus, the map becomes a library portal to all the knowledge on the Internet.

My first map of this type was the Interactive Civil War Map. I knew there would be great interest in the subject and I found the links and coordinates I needed on Wikipedia’s List of Civil War Battles, which was very confusing to use and required the visitor to use a complicated and time consuming process to get to a Google Map for each and every battle one-by -one. On the other hand, my map was designed to be easy to use, enabled you to zoom in on the battle and made all the battles visible at once so you can see how they relate to each other without the complicated process.   These maps enable you to zoom in on the actual locations, see the buildings, the forts, the ancient ruins, etc. and read the actual words of the explorer, see the terrain as they saw it 100+ years ago in terrain mode, and what it looks like today in satellite mode. These maps can even provide directions, hotels and other points of interest. Some maps include links to National Archive photos, Wikipedia pages, and animations from CivilWarAnimated or AmericanRevolutionAnimated.

After placing a few referrals on various online forums, interactive maps of historic events began to take off. My hope is that teachers would use it to inspire reading and writing to students who are currently fixated on an online media, and that travelers and followers of explorers would use these maps to plan their next vacation.

My most popular maps are the following:

• Interactive Civil War Map
• Sunken Ships of the Atlantic
• Explorations of Charles Darwin, Marco Polo, Mungo Park and Henry Morton Stanley
• The American Revolution
• Environmental Disasters

Until recently, all my maps were about explorers who had died a long time ago. The map on Mikael Strandberg’s 2004 Siberian Expedition was my first living explorer who was kind enough to allow me to do so and provided the materials I needed.  I now have twenty-nine Google Maps on historic events and two Google Map games called “Day of Atonement” and “Prag’s Google Street Road Rally.” It is of interest to note, the research involved and the creation of these maps has uncovered some errors in commonly held facts on history. I have found what I believe are errors in traditional exploration maps on Wikipedia in regard to Marco Polo and Cortès, and located odd details mentioned in books that affected history and you can read about them on my blog.

So today, start experiencing history digitally by making your own maps of an historic events and uncover your own discovery of little known facts that only a Google Map can reveal.

George Stiller is a retired marketing communications manager who began his 35 year career in advertising and marketing as paste up artist. As an ad agency art director, George has helped to establish Agfa-Gevaert as a worldwide leader in diagnostic medical imaging systems. As a corporate graphic design manager, George’s workflow improvements helped United States Surgical Corporation to become one of the fastest growing companies worldwide.  As a marketing communications manager for MechoShade Systems, George helped to establish the MechoShade brand as the third most recognized brand in the commercial shade industry and helped to develop the ImageShades you have seen at Levis and the Gap. Now that George is retired, he developed his blog, MyReadingMapped, and its 30+ interactive Google Maps on history.

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Border Madness

by

Lorraine Chittock

Underneath the floor of my Chevy van is a whole chicken, lamb meat, as well as fruit and vegetables. The vehicle was once used as a surveillance vehicle for the Arizona police department and a long metal box hidden underneath the floor once held four batteries used to power a periscope and other electronic spying gizmos. Normally, I use the space to store valuables such as money, a laptop and paperwork for myself, Dog and Bruiser. A bitter cold winter in the Altiplano is making me leave Bolivia for Chile sooner than I’d planned, and I’m using the compartment to stash enough food to feed me and the dogs for a week.

In LaPaz, Bolivia’s capital, I’d met a German couple traveling in a huge Mercedes RV. “Chilean customs have very strict rules for bringing in agricultural products, almost unheard of in the rest of Latin America. When we were at the border, I pretended we only had a couple of tomatoes,” the woman had said. “I wasn’t going to let the custom officials know how much we were really carrying…”

Earlier in the day, I’d removed all the food from the fridge, and prominently displayed a tangerine, leftover milk and half a lemon—just as the woman had advised. Dog, Bruiser and I navigate through the Bolivian border formalities with lightening speed before driving through a stretch of land uninhabited by people from any country. At over 13,000 feet, the mountain pass is stark, cold and windy.

We roll up to Chile’s immaculate border and are greeted by three sniffer dogs and their handlers. My stash of hidden food… A year before, I’d done a story about the largest police dog facility in Bogota, Colombia. The words of their veterinarian, Dr. Nancy Lopez, rings in my head. “The Labradors are perfect as food trainers, as they have mucho appetites. The only time these dogs eat is during their daily training sessions.”

If I open the sliding side door, the Labs will get a huge whiff of my illegal goods. Before I even have time to contemplate the consequences of my contraband being discovered, an official greets me.

“You’ll need to get your passport stamped over there,” the man says, pointing to a line of people inside. “After that, fill out these forms for your dogs.”

The man escorts me inside, making it difficult to slow a chain of events which could result in a heavy fine or worse. Meanwhile, Dog and Bruiser lean out the open window and bark furiously at the Labs. The furry creatures pant happily, oblivious to the onslaught of fury they’ve unleashed, and to the role they could play in my future. But wait. Could the sniffer hounds be so sidetracked by Dog and Bruiser that their scent glands are deterred from the pounds of hidden meat? “Food is the motivation for Labradors,” Dr. Nancy had said. It’s likely the minds of these mutts are already focused on my smuggled goods.

While my passport gets stamped and a uniformed official looks at the rabies vaccinations, a smile from a portrait of Chile’s first woman president, Michelle Bachelet, a sash draped over her cream colored tunic, soothes my fears.

“This rabies vaccination is good for three years?” the man asks suspiciously of the jabs received in California. “The inoculations in Chile are only good for one year. I’m not sure if we can accept these…”  I feign disappointment while my heart leaps at the possibility of being turned away from the border without further incident. “And where’s the certificate from a vet?” he asks, shuffling through the stack of documents. “And proof they don’t have worms? And we need a form from SAG.” Servicio Agricola y Ganadero is the Bolivian governmental agricultural office which deals with livestock and other animals. I have none of these documents. Most borders I’ve crossed since leaving America have barely acknowledged the existence of my two canine companions and I’d erroneously assumed this one would be no different. “I’m sorry, if you want your dogs to enter Chile you’ll have to return to Bolivia and get the correct documentation.”

After five days, we head towards Oruro, with the intent of completing the veterinary paperwork for Dog and Bruiser. Before hitting town we take a dusty track leading to low hills which I hope will provide a sheltered place to camp for the night. Dust gives way to a white surface. A salt lake! Not the famous Salar de Uyuni, the largest and highest salt lake in the world. This one is more like a large pond, but does have five flamingos, and the dogs and I walk around the perimeter until we find a perfect spot to camp.

“Time to move the van,” I say, following tire tracks across the lake while Bruiser runs alongside, mouth agape in joy. Suddenly the back tires, low on tread and needing to be replaced, begin spinning into the salty surface until hitting dark mud. The van comes to a halt. “I guess we’re camping right here tonight. It’s too late and I’m too tired to deal with it now.” I hope the back tires and mud dry out when the sun rises in the morning.

The next day, it’s impossible to tell where salt ends and frost from the frigid Altiplano night begins. Ice makes everything damp, and by the end of our morning walk my boots are caked with a few inches of spongy moss and salt. Dog is none too happy her paws are covered in the salty mess and tries to clean off a mixture which resembles cow dung without the smell on our bed.

The sun gets warmer and higher, but doesn’t shine on the back tire which is responsible for propelling the van forward. Bruiser follows me back and forth for the next three hours as I haul bucketloads of dirt and stones from higher ground to lay in the path of each tire, and then painstakingly edge the van forward. Ten yards from a firm patch of coarse grass at the edge of the lake, I hit another wet area. The tires sink deeper than before.

I hide in the van for an hour, cry a few tears, and hug Dog. The break gives my mind a chance to find an alternate solution. What if I lay out the van’s rubber floor mats in the path of each tire? After a half hour of shoveling underneath each tire and laying the rubber and a small piece of carpet underneath, I drive out of the muck and mire and onto hard soil. Bruiser runs after me, sharing in my victory. Free!

After a month camped on the outskirts of Oruro in an area, I have all the paperwork completed for the dogs, have bought two new tires, and finish recording the audio version of On a Mission from DOG. Time to head once again for Chile. I veto the idea of visiting the famed Salar de Uyuni, the largest and highest salt lake in the world at 7000 square miles, since the road to get there is horrific. But a trip to Bolivia wouldn’t be complete without at least visiting Salar de Coipasa, a substantially smaller salt lake at 1500 square miles, which is en route to a less frequented border than the previous one we attempted to cross.

Twenty miles past Oruro the raised and paved road turns first to gravel, then corrugation. Bruiser is alarmed by the body jarring motion and trembles. I speed up, then slow down, but the pounding doesn’t change. It quickly becomes apparent the trucks that pass this way leave the raised road during the dry season and create their own paths through powdery dust. I do the same. The van is immediately engulfed in a fine dust which enters every vent and crack in our aging conveyance, as well as coating the occupants fur and hair. The hours and miles pass slowly and the cold winter air receives extra reinforcements from the higher Andes mountains.

140 miles takes the better part of a day as I make sure there’s enough stops so the dogs are able to walk, pee and rest from the journey. At the small town of Sabaya we leave the main track and an hour later reach Villa Vitalina, where a long, horizontal drawing at the entrance to Salar de Coipasa serves as a guide for which mountains to aim for in order not to get lost on the deceptive expanse of white salt.

“Careful,” I think, remembering how easily I was stuck on the tiny lake. I negotiate the van hesitantly, but it’s quickly clear from the numerous tire tracks imbedded into the salt that this lake is frequented by far more traffic. The tires make crunching sounds and we pass several men mining the salt.

At 11,000 feet, the wind is sharp, and shafts of late afternoon light reflect off the salt like billions of crystals. I want to camp on the lake. I drive a mile, then pull away from the tracks and come to a stop.

“Here. We’ll stay here the night,” I announce, stepping down from the van and rushing quickly around to slide the door open for the dogs. I can’t wait to see how they’ll react to this new environment. In our five years of travel, we’ve experienced deserts, swamps, savanna and forest, but never a salt lake. Bruiser, wanting to be with me above all else, jumps out and licks the strange surface. Dog is more hesitant, and after only a few minutes on the hard and sometimes bubbly surface, decides she’s had enough and jumps back inside. I repeatedly try coercing her out for photos, but it’s clear she’s not interested. There are no smells to interest them, and I wonder if the salt burns their pads. Or do they sense that just beneath this hard surface is water and potential danger?

When the sun drops below the horizon, the air turns frigid. I close the doors against a world of sparkling lights which shine above, which are reflected on the hard surface below. Inside the van, the bed covers are sprinkled with pieces of salt. By morning, the dog’s opinion of Salar de Coipasa has not changed: this is their worst camping location ever. It seems pointless to stay if two-thirds of the pack are unhappy. We head back to Villa Vitalina, before continuing onto the Chilean border.

“Do you have meat, vegetables, fruit or dairy products?” the agricultural inspector asks. I’ve already thrown away or eaten the type of foods he’d be interested in, so I pull out some dry goods to give him something to do. I’d read that tea bags of every variety are forbidden, but when I offer mine, they’re ignored.

“Dog food?” he asks. The word no slips out of my mouth, as much a surprise to me as the question. Dry dog food had been difficult to find in Bolivia, and every time I found vendors who divided up huge bags to sell by the pound, I bought some. I now have over forty pounds of dog food stockpiled behind the driver’s seat.

I continue pulling out food items, when I notice the bright yellow plastic sack containing dog food is no longer concealed by my dirty laundry bag. Desperate it not be discovered, I abruptly yank open the passenger door and fling the seat up, thus hiding the yellow sacking.

Just then, four officials appear to check on my vehicle and like ants, they work their way through the van, poking at this, and prodding at that, one man even poking a screwdriver-like tool into the floor to ceiling carpet. Only once since leaving America has the vehicle been inspected.

“Give me sniffer dogs any day,” I mutter, remembering the first aborted crossing with some nostalgia.

I open my secret compartment with a flourish, and fling open the back doors, expecting the team to mutter about the fifteen gallons of gasoline I’m hoping to bring into Chile, where prices haven’t been under $5 a gallon for as long as anyone can remember. All they confiscate are wood chips I’ve been using to cushion two wine glasses.

Meanwhile, the veterinarian on duty is concerned about Dog and Bruiser.

“We have a problem,” he says. I had all the paperwork from a vet in Oruro, along with new rabies jabs, de-wormer and distemper. But somehow I’d forgotten about getting the correct paperwork from SAG. In addition, I don’t have an address in Chile. I bluff this by finding a hotel address in my guidebook, and agree to go there directly once I cross the border. The newest dilemma is that my letter from the vet in Oruro is only good for ten days. This is day twelve. And some of the shots were done after the letter was signed. The border vet has already examined Dog and Bruiser and found both to be in good health. We’ve been at the border two hours. I recognize that despite the ridiculous amount of time this is taking, this man is on our side, hoping to prevent me from having to return to Oruro on a road he knows to be hideous.

“The only way to get around this problem is for you to agree to keep your two dogs quarantined inside your vehicle for twenty-one days. Can you do that?”

“Of course,” I quickly agree.

“The dogs can’t mix with any local dogs, or with Chilean wildlife.”

The rule is ridiculous. Even America with all its laws, only quarantines pets if the animal displays symptoms of being ill, and then for only fourteen days. But quarantining Dog and Bruiser inside my van? For twenty-one days? I listen intently while the veterinarian makes sure I understand the gravity of the paper I’m about to sign. I nod seriously, grateful of acting classes in college.

It’s after six p.m. before all the paperwork is complete. “I’m sorry, so sorry! I couldn’t do anything to make the crossing go faster.” Dog licks my face while Bruiser whimpers in excitement. “I missed you too… Let’s get out of here,” I say, while waving good-bye to the officials and casually driving through the border. It’s freezing, the sun has set and the wind howling. I have grit in my ears, and my hair is matted and dirty. I long for a scalding hot shower, but the nearest one is over 100 miles away after a drop of over 10,000 feet in altitude.

When I see llama tracks in the dust I drive off the main road and park. Already ignoring the possibility we’ll run into local dogs, and less than five kilometers away from the border I fling open the door to the van and take Dog and Bruiser on a quick walk, all three of us ecstatic the ordeal has ended. A thick layer of dust coats the windshield and everything inside. I have no energy to clean out the mess. I’m chilled to the bone and need to eat, but there are no stores nearby. I light the stove, and the dogs and I share what little food we have: a can of mackerel, pasta, and for Dog and Bruiser, a very generous supply of dry dog food.

In 1991 Lorraine Chittock arrived in Egypt as a magazine photographer
and within months was researching the legendary Forty Days Road. A few
years later she crossed the Libyan Desert with 200 camels and eight
Sudanese men.
After twelve years living and traveling throughout Africa and the
Middle East, Lorraine decided to take her career and two Kenyan
ex-street dogs on the road. The pack of three touched down at San
Francisco Airport and began exploring North America in a Jeep
Wrangler. Two years, 30,000 miles, and twenty-two states later,
Lorraine tranferred her belongings to a $750 Chevy van once used as a
surveillance vehicle by the Arizona police and headed to Latin
America. The pack are now residing in a Chilean cabin overlooking the
Pacific Ocean.

Lorraine’s five travel books explore the world’s unique bond with
animals. DOGS BEYOND BORDERS – TALES AND TIPS FROM THE ROAD includes
interviews with fourteen human-dog packs, and how to bridge cultural
gaps while traveling with your dog. http://LorraineChittock.com

Also see The Long Riders Guild!

Please visit my sponsors Termo who are making it possible for me to write 2 blog reports per week. Just click the logo to find the best underwear on earth.

Bushcraft
by
Johan Forsberg

Do you know that we humans have been around for about 3 million years, 99% of this time we have lived as hunters and gatherers alongside Mother Nature? It is only in the last 1% of this time we have been farmers and just over 100 years ago the industrialization era started. Considering we have for such a long time been able to live in the wilderness without anything other than what we can find there, why do we find it so hard today when we are out in nature?

We have gadgets to tell us where we are, we have the luxury of portable fires that will light by the push of a button enabling us to cook, and there is even food that only needs hot water added and it´s edible. All this can become very heavy so some smart people have come up with the idea to make these things lighter so we can bring even more.

But there are other ways to go out and enjoy nature, this is known as Bushcraft and is what I believe, is the way of the future. By looking at how we have lived for 99% of our time on earth. By doing just what our ancestors did and live side by side with nature and use what it has to offer, we don’t need to bring as much equipment, but we do need to equip ourselves with the knowledge that has, to the majority, been lost. To make such a basic thing as fire can be really hard especially if it has been raining for a week but it is worth so much to us. To really get in touch with our ancestors there is the skill of fire by friction (rubbing 2 sticks together to make fire). Here you need to identify the right type of tree and know where they grow and to know which pieces will work best together before you can even start. It takes some practice to learn this skill but it´s not impossible. It´s a very good way of testing a person’s determination, but when you succeed there is an enormous amount of satisfaction and a direct connection with our ancestors. Many people will laugh, smile, jump for joy or even cry when they have succeeded with this skill.

Staying dry, warm and hydrated are essential skills to be able to live in the wild, staying dry by making a shelter, to make water drinkable, identifying plants for food or to be able to catch fish and prepare it and last but not least to be able to make your own equipment and tools. To make your own equipment from natural materials has a freedom to it, because if it breaks or becomes lost, you know how to repair it or even replace it. Things you make yourself are unique and will not be as soulless as the things you buy. If you have ever made a simple thing such as a spoon to eat with you know the feeling of finding a piece of wood that would be suitable and then whittling it down and finally ending up with something which is mainly used to put food into your mouth. But for you it will have a value and a memory from the time you made it.

Hand in hand with creating items you need, comes the basic essential tools. Not long ago the knife was carried by everyone and used daily for everything from carving to being used with your spoon at the dinner table. Today we see this tool – the knife as a weapon and it is often forbidden to carry one in public. Not many people know how to use simple tools such as knives and axes and they are increasingly perceived as weapons and not as the essential everyday tools they once were.

Skills like these are great to be able to use when hiking, canoeing or just travelling through the wilderness. It means you are no longer dependant on stoves to cook with or provide warmth. Instead of eating something from a bag, try and make a fresh salad from what you can find in nature it will be an experience in itself. You might not travel as fast as you would like but I promise you will see and experience a lot more and will be closer to the nature and also the hunter gatherer within you.

If you want to know more about Nordic Bushcraft and Johan have look at www.nordicbushcraft.com

Johan grew up in Sweden’s countryside and from an early age, nature has been his playground and still is. It is in nature where he feels most at home and it is there he spends much of his time trying to learn as much as he can from it. Since he spends a lot of time in nature and every year goes on week long trips from paddling in the rivers and lakes in the south to hiking in the mountains in the north. He has acknowledged nature’s real value. He has studied Survival and Bushcraft with several instructors and has studied and worked for the renowned WEISS School (Wilderness Experience Survival School) before starting his own school Nordic Bushcraft.

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