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.

South Pole Ponies part 2

The Forgotten Story of Antarctica’s Meat-Eating Horses

by

CuChullaine O’Reilly FRGS

Unlikely Equestrian Allies

Modern folklore delights in focusing on the intense rivalry which existed between the Norwegians, led by Roald Amundsen, and the English, led by Captain Robert Scott, with the former relying on dogs to pull their sleds, while the latter obstinately preferred to “man haul” their equipment across the ice. That story sold reams of newspapers in its day and continues to fuel a lucrative niche publishing industry. Nevertheless, this is an erroneous simplification of events perpetrated by pedestrians, one which overlooks an astonishing series of under reported equestrian event.

Disregarded is the fact that this was not a two-horse race between two bitter nationalistic foes determined to champion different methods of travel. Prior to Scott’s departure for Antarctica, Germany and England were still on such friendly terms that it was agreed their explorers would simultaneously use horses, some of whom it was later discovered were meat-eaters, to try and meet each other in Antarctica.

This decision was brought about in 1912, when Germany’s Kaiser Wilhelm II authorized explorer Wilhelm Filchner to travel to the South Pole. The young German had already made successful explorations across Central Asia, most notably when he rode from Baku to the Pamir Mountains in the late 19th century.

Having received his nation’s commission to explore the southernmost continent, Filchner journeyed to London in search of first-hand knowledge regarding polar travel. Here he was befriended by Captain Robert Scott and Sir Ernest Shackleton, both of whom encouraged and helped the amateur Polar explorer.

After a series of meetings it was agreed that somewhere in the vast white expanse of Antarctica, the Germans, led by Filchner, would locate the British team, led by Captain Scott, whereupon the two nations would exchange personnel before retiring to their respective camps on either side of the continent. Both expeditions were to use horses, in addition to sled dogs. The British also relied upon motor-driven tractors, and in extremis, man hauling.

Neither team leader realized at the time that both their expeditions would rely on meat-eating equines in this effort. Nor was it known that the Norwegians were even planning on being anywhere near Antarctica, as Amundsen had announced he was trying instead for the North Pole. Therefore, if events had gone as planned, German and English equestrian travellers would have met as friends somewhere in the vast frozen continent.

Sadly, this did not occur. Filchner’s role was air-brushed out of popular history. Germany’s involvement was ignored, as it distracted from the unexpected rivalry brought about by Norway’s explorer showing up to thwart Scott’s role. Nor were the equestrian events, either before or after Scott’s death, fully understood or documented.

To begin with, a profitable modern industry has arisen which delights in highlighting the personal and professional dispute which had arisen between Scott and his former lieutenant, Shackleton. All too often it is forgotten that on their first expedition to Antarctica, Scott had saved Shackleton’s life.

Consequently, while they were indeed rivals for the Pole, what the opponents of either camp neglect to appreciate is that both men main­tained an abiding respect for each other’s talents.

Moreover, thanks to Filchner’s unexpected appearance in London, a significant moment in equestrian travel history soon occurred, when Scott was preparing to leave England’s capital. His slow ship and her crew had already departed for Antarctica. Having concluded last-minute fund-raising, Scott was now taking a train to the coast. There he would board a fast sailing passenger liner bound for New Zealand, where he would rendezvous with his expedition.

When Scott boarded the train, Shackleton and Filchner were waiting to bid their fellow explorer farewell.

Thus, Shackleton and Scott, the two former expedition comrades, shared a poignant final meeting. Any residual antagonism which existed between the Irish and English explorers was temporarily laid to rest, as the two experienced polar travellers expressed what were un­knowingly going to be their last farewells.

Ironically, as the train pulled out of the station, Scott’s final words were aimed not at Shackleton, with whom he had shared many desperate adventures, but at his fellow equestrian explorer, Wilhelm Filchner.

“See you at the South Pole,” Scott yelled to Filchner, as the train pulled away from the London station.

As Scott departed, none of the three explorers could have realized that this was their last meeting. The lure of the South Pole would soon kill Scott. It would then seriously imperil the lives of Filchner, Shackle­ton and all the men involved in both their own expeditions.

South Pole Ponies

What is seldom remembered today is that like Shackleton and Jackson before them, Filchner and Scott were also using Siberian and Manchurian horses to assist them in their push to the frozen end of the Earth.

Upon departing from London, Filchner returned to Germany, convinced that he and Scott were in agreement on an extraordinary plan which incorporated the themes of international cooperation, scientific advancement and horses. There had been no hint of commercial, national nor personal competition.

Filchner never met Scott. Paradoxically, he encountered his nemesis instead.

After setting sail for Antarctica with his ship and crew, the German stopped at the harbour of Buenos Aires. There Filchner chanced upon the Fram. This was the Norwegian ship captained by that country’s famous polar explorer, Roald Amundsen. Unknown to Scott, this Norwegian rival had unexpectedly launched what was to become a nationalistic race to the South Pole. Thus, before Scott had any clue as to what was afoot, the Germans realized that a three way national effort was now under way.

The Fram, with Amundsen’s large contingent of sled dogs, sailed first. Afterwards, Filchner and his German expeditionary force also departed for Antarctica, bound for the opposite side of the continent than that which the Norwegian and British expeditions had chosen. Filchner landed on Antarctica, where he unloaded the horses and dogs he had brought for his team’s push to the Pole. Unfortunately, the ice on which he set up camp was unstable and the expedition was unable to proceed.

Nevertheless, in stark contrast to modern dogma, which insists that it was a race to the Pole that pitted British man-haulers against more competent Norwegian dog-sledders, there were in fact two equestrian expeditions, camped on opposite sides of Antarctica, at the same time, and they had planned to meet !

Like Scott, prior to his departure Filchner had purchased Manchurian horses to explore Antarctica. Upon arriving, he was surprised to learn that because the dogs viewed the ship as a home, they had to be separated by force from the ship, unlike the horses who eagerly went ashore and “when they felt terra firma under their hooves; they bit, kicked and pranced from high spirits and joie-de-vivre.”

Filchner also remarked on the ease which his horses pulled sledges weighing 1,200 pounds.

“As draft animals the ponies achieved miracles.”

Though the Germans were unable to either reach the South Pole, or locate Scott, nevertheless they enthusiastically rode their horses in Antarctica. One German, the Historical Long Rider, Alfred Kling, regularly explored on a Manchurian horse named Moritz.  Another of these horses, Stasi, eagerly ate dried fish and raw seal-meat.

Meat-eating horses, such as the one ridden by the German Antarctic explorer, Alfred Kling, were used by the Kaiser’s expedition to the South Pole.

Captain Scott – Equestrian Explorer

While Filchner had problems, Scott was facing a disaster on the other side of the continent.

Unlike Jackson and Shackleton, Scott took a different view on equine nutrition. He brought none of the high-energy Maujee ration for his horses, deciding instead to feed them compressed fodder made of wheat. He also gave the horses hot bran mash with either oats or oilcake on alternate days.

Despite their traditional diet of hay, oats, bran and oil cake, the equestrian report compiled after the English expedition concluded, “The nutritive value was insufficient under the conditions of sledging and the ponies became very weak and lost flesh markedly.”

Regardless of his well-meaning efforts, Scott’s horses “lost weight until they were just skin and bone.”

Nevertheless, even though they lacked the tasty Maujee ration, eyewitnesses recorded that at least one of Scott’s horses was an avid meat-eater.

“One of our ponies, Snippets, would eat blubber and so far as I know it agreed with him,” Cherry-Garrard wrote.

Snippets, the meat-eating horse who Captain Scott led on his journey across Antarctica.

Cherry-Garrard was later part of the rescue party that found the frozen bodies of Scott and two of the men who had accompanied him on the final push to the Pole. Once again, the equestrian portion of that tale has been almost entirely deleted from popular cultural records.

Prior to his fatal departure to the South Pole, Scott had written to the British army authorities in India asking them to authorize the use of mules which had been specially trained in the Himalayan Mountains. In accordance with that request, seven of these carefully trained mules travelled from India, down to New Zealand, and on to Antarctica. Accompanying them was special equipment based on ideas formulated in the Tibetan Himalayas. This included equine snow shoes and tinted snow goggles.

These valuable animals accompanied the rescue party, led by the surgeon Dr. Edward Atkinson, which set out to locate Scott and his missing men. The snow shoes sent from India worked so well that the mules were able to cross crevasses with them.

In a special equestrian report later authored by Atkinson, he stated that “the mules covered nearly 400 miles and were in such good fettle they could have done it again…..They were obviously stronger and better trained than the ponies and would have done even better than the ponies and pulled longer distances.”

(Notes on the Ponies and Mules used during the Terra Nova expedition of 1910-12 by E.L. Atkinson)

Nevertheless, Atkinson noted that when it came time for the English expedition to leave Antarctica, the perfectly healthy mules were killed rather than returning them to either New Zealand or India.

Equestrian Antagonism

There is still an entrenched dog-friendly view of polar history which has been written by those lacking any appreciation or under­standing of equestrian history.

Though three Antarctic expeditions used meat-eating horses, recent books have continued to denigrate and erase this portion of equestrian history. One volume states, “No horse that set foot on Antarctic ground ever returned.”

(Antarctic Destinies by Stephanie Barczewski, published by Continuum Books, London, 2007.)

This statement is misleading, if not inaccurate, because even though the German expedition was unable to proceed off the ice and onto terra firma, upon the completion of his journey to Antarctica German Long Rider Wilhelm Filchner did indeed save all of his horses. He released the still healthy Manchurian horses on South Georgia Island, allowing them to run wild on the Hestesletten (Horse Plain). The descendants of these horses remained on the island for decades.

Another striking example of this antagonistic philosophy is provided by The Antarctic Dictionary, A complete guide to Antarctic English. Authored by Bernadette Hince, and published in 2000 by CSIRO Publishing, this so-called “complete guide” has no mention of horses, ponies or mules. There are a total of 394 pages, most of which consist of quotations from various books on the subject, yet the author has eliminated equestrian events, and any reference to meat-eating horses, out of her dictionary.

With the death of Captain Scott, and the failure by the Germans to reach the South Pole, the curtain drew down on the role of meat-eating horses in Polar exploration history; nevertheless these astonishing episodes raise intriguing questions.

What would have happened had Scott and Filchner managed to join up their expeditions?

For example, Scott’s equestrian expert, Captain Titus Oates, was a noted xenophobe who could barely manage to be civil to the English expedition’s sole foreigner, an easy-going Norwegian. Consequently, the idea of Oates having to interact with the Germans, or be transferred under Filchner’s command, will unsettle traditional Antarctic dogma.

Deadly Equines reveals that Polar expeditions which used horses equipped with equine snowshoes, and trained to eat meat, could have travelled to the South Pole before dog sleds reached that elusive goal.

If you have additional personal or historical evidence, please contact CuChullaine O’Reilly at

longriders@thelongridersguild.com

To learn more about the “Deadly Equines” research project visit -http://www.lrgaf.org/deadly_equines.htm

To participate in the international discussion regarding “Deadly Equines” visit -

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Deadly-Equines-The-Shocking-True-Story-of-Meat-Eating-Murderous-Horses/226312534070463?sk=photos

To order the book visit – http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/deadly-equines-cuchullaine-oreilly/1104580837?ean=9781590480038&itm=1&

South Pole Ponies

The Forgotten Story of Antarctica’s Meat-Eating Horses

by

CuChullaine O’Reilly FRGS

There is a widespread belief in a warm and comforting story which states the horse is a gentle herbivore which fears predators.

A shocking new book, Deadly Equines, reveals instead that horses terrified our ancestors and are still killing us today. Accounts include stories about the English stallion that eagerly killed and ate the citizens of Lucknow, a French mare that slew Russian soldiers and a Japanese horse who slaughtered samurai.

Unfortunately, the average human being’s daily knowledge of equine nature has diminished to an alarming extent. It has been replaced by a Disney-esque version of events where there is no dark side to nature. This is particularly true in Anglophone countries, where books and films now commonly depict horses in romantic terms.

What has been overlooked is that mankind has known about meat-eating horses for at least four thousand years, during which time horses have consumed nearly two dozen different types of protein, including human flesh, and that these episodes have occurred on every continent, including Antarctica.

Examples of murderous and meat-eating horses have been found on every continent.

Because of this pervasive equestrian amnesia, the vital role played by meat-eating horses in exploration history has been lost to modern man.

That strange tale began in the late 19th century when Sweden’s most famous explorer and Historical Long Rider, Sven Hedin, reported that Tibetan horses were fed meat in the grassless Himalayan Mountains. Shortly afterwards the celebrated French Long Rider, Gabriel Bonvalot, not only confirmed that these horses, “feed on raw flesh,” he rode them across Tibet in 1889.

Nor was the practice of training horses to eat meat restricted to Tibet or the past.

The first CIA spy to die in action, Douglas MacKiernan, was murdered in 1950, shortly after he rode across the Gobi Desert on a meat-eating horse. And though the last Long Rider to ride one of these strange animals has just died, the Kazakh tribesmen who train these horses recently offered to sell one to England’s modern explorers.

(http://www.thelongridersguild.com/bessac.htm)

While new evidence continues to be uncovered, including how the Bhutanese are still feeding their horses tiger’s fat and yak meat, the most astonishing exploration story has been buried by scholastic neglect under the snows of Antarctica.

North American Long Rider Frank Bessac was the last known Long Rider to own and ride one of the legendary Kazakh meat-eating horses.

North Pole Horses

While it is now commonly agreed that dog travel in winter con­ditions is an excellent methodology, abundant evidence demon­strates that this view was not shared by all polar explorers at the beginning of the last century. What has also been overlooked is the simultaneous use of meat-eating horses in trying to reach both the North and South Poles.

Likewise, it is wrong to think that the lack of any equine fodder in the Antarctic interior automatically ruled out horses, as once the explorer moves away from the seal and penguin populations there is also no meat for the dogs. Advocates of dog travel argue that as the expedition journeys further inland, dogs can be sacrificed and fed to their companions. Horses, it was believed, had to rely on grass or grain, brought at great effort from the coast.

Recent discoveries demonstrate instead that a meat-eating horse would have reached the South Pole years before dogs did so, had he not fallen victim to an accident en route.

The decision to incorporate equine strength into Polar exploration was based upon the fact that the Siberian equestrian culture had a centuries-old tradition of winter-time horse travel. Despite having the coldest climate in the northern hemisphere, the Siberians routinely travelled along the great post road which criss-crossed that portion of the Russian empire.

These horses are able to survive because they have specialized hair which has a special core that greatly increases its insulating charac­teristics. Additional insulation is provided by a sub-dermal layer of fat. Plus, the Siberian horses have the special ability to alter the rate of their respiration, thereby helping them to further adapt to extremes of cold weather. They were even known to function well while being covered in sheets of ice, which actually acted as an insulating agent.

(http://www.thelongridersguild.com/yakuts.htm)

During his crossing of Siberia, in the winter of 2004, Swedish Long Rider Mikael Strandberg, documented the still thriving Yakut equestrian culture. This local rider and his horse were photographed before setting off during minus sixty degree weather.

In 1893 a renowned British explorer and Long Rider, Frederick George Jackson, used these remarkable Russian horses to make a 3,000 mile winter crossing of Siberia. Thanks to the success of this expe­dition, in 1894 Jackson was asked to head an international expedition whose goal was to explore Franz Josef Land, a remote archipelago located north of Russia in the Arctic Ocean.

While Jackson did take dogs, he also brought four Siberian horses with him to explore this inaccessible part of the world, thus setting the stage for a remarkable set of equestrian events which would later conclude in Antarctica.

During Jackson’s journey in Franz Josef Land with his robust horses, it was 30 degrees below zero. Yet he travelled “night and day” for twelve days with a sledge weighing 700 pounds, covering 240 miles along “abominable tracks.”

“And such are the courage and stamina of these hardy little Russian horses that although we had only given them two rests of two hours each during that time they were full of spirit at the end.”

He later writes, “We had travelled 470 miles in seven and a half days; and I think this speaks volumes for the little Russian horses. We had two sledges, and one horse to each sledge; we went at a spanking pace nearly the whole way, yet they trotted into camp as fresh as paint.”

In his book, Jackson recalled how one of these animals, a mare named Brownie, “appears to be doing very well on her miscellaneous diet. In addition to her regular feed of Spratt dog biscuits and hay, she shares the scraps left from our meals with the dogs, and very frequently helps herself to their polar bear meat, and shows a fondness for picking at bird skins lying around the hut.”

(A Thousand Days in the Arctic by Frederick George Jackson, published by Harper & Brothers, New York, 1899.)

Frederick George Jackson traversed Australia on a Brumby, sailed across the Atlantic on a whaler, made a legendary winter crossing of Siberia, then used meat-eating horses to explore the Arctic Circle. This illustration shows his favourite mare, Brownie, who ate polar bear meat.

Further horse journeys were to follow.

In 1901 and 1903 two American expeditions also explored the Arctic Circle, both of which used Siberian horses. The second attempt was led by a talented photographer, Anthony Fiala. The equestrian needs of that expedition were handled by veterans of the United States cavalry. These former Indian fighters “led the expedition in mounted drills and exercise rides on the Arctic ice.”

Once again the horses proved to be of immense help.

“The ponies were less troublesome than the dogs and more powerful, dragging loads that astonished us all,” Fiala reported.

(Fighting the Polar Ice by Anthony Fiala, published by Hodder & Stoughton, London, 1907.)

In 1903 former United States cavalry soldiers were recruited to explore the Arctic Circle on horseback.

Shackleton and Socks

With these equestrian expeditions serving as a background, and thanks to positive personal experiences with his own meat-eating horses, Jackson encouraged Sir Ernest Shackleton to also use horses in the latter’s bid to reach the South Pole. When the Irish explorer set out to explore Antarctica in 1907, he took ten Manchurian horses, thereby creating an exceptional chain of equestrian events which led from Siberia to the Arctic Circle, and then south to Antarctica.

Though it was later learned that horses will eat seal meat, Shackle­ton had no way of knowing this prior to his departure. In need of dietary advice, the sailor turned horse explorer turned to the military for assistance. What he found may surprise modern explorers.

It has now been largely forgotten that when the British War Office published Animal Management, a manual prepared by the veterinarian department for His Majesty’s Cavalry and Artillery, the index had a listing for “meat as horse food.”

(Animal Management, Prepared in the Veterinary Department for General Staff, War Office, London, HMSO, 1913.)

Thus the British military high command was aware that horses could consume meat-based rations under certain circumstances. The grassless ice fields of Antarctica would certainly have qualified.

To overcome the horse’s need for bulk grass based feed, Shackleton arranged to purchase ten tons of compressed fodder consisting of oats, bran and chaff. He also took a large stock of corn. Yet upon the advice of the British military establishment, Shackleton decided to enhance his horses’ normal diet with a special meat-based supplement known as “Maujee Ration.” This was a distinctive type of equine pem­­mican developed at Aldershot, one of England’s most important military establishments.

Sir Ernest recalled, “It consisted of dried beef, carrots, milk, currents and sugar, and was chosen because it provides a large amount of nourishment with comparatively little weight.”

(Heart of the Antarctic by Sir Ernest Shackleton, published by William Heinemann, London, 1909.)

Shackleton set off for the Pole with three comrades and four of the original ten horses. Each of the Manchurian horses pulled a twelve-foot sledge carrying an average of 650 pounds. Like Jackson before him, Shackleton praised his horses.

He wrote, “compared to the dog, the pony is a far more efficient animal, one pony doing the work of at least ten dogs and tra­vel­ling a further distance in a day……It was trying work for the ponies but they all did splendidly in their own particular way.”

The harsh weather and unforgiving terrain caused the men and horses to struggle alike through the cold and snow. Nevertheless, Shackle­ton made a startling observation. The horses preferred to eat the meat-based ration rather than the traditional fodder. They even threw corn out of their nosebags, scattering it on the ground, in anger at being denied the Maujee ration.

On November 6, 1908, Shackleton first noted, “They all like the Maujee ration and eat that up before touching their maize.”

A few days later, both men and horses had begun taking special notice of the meat-filled horse food. On November 9, Shackleton wrote, “Tonight we boiled some Maujee ration for the ponies, and they took this feed well. It has a delicious smell and we ourselves would have enjoyed it.”

Because of the dangers and hardships of the journey, three of the gallant horses had to be put down on the outward journey. Never­the­less, Shackleton, his men and the remaining horse, Socks, pressed ever onward towards the South Pole.

On December 3, 1908, at 7 p.m., Sir Ernest Shackleton, his three human companions and Socks pitched camp – and made history.

Because the four men and the sole surviving horse were “tired and hungry, we made a good dinner which included a cupful of Maujee ration as an extra.”

By sharing the Maujee ration, Shackleton and Socks became the first known horse and human to consume meat together, demonstrating that both species are omnivores.

Socks the Manchurian pony holds a special place in equestrian history for two reasons. No other horse ever came as close to reaching the South Pole and he is the first recorded horse to have shared a meat-based meal with his master.

Sadly, neither Shackleton nor Socks gained the South Pole. On December 7, Socks fell into a “black bottomless pit.” Had Socks not died, a meat-eating horse may well have helped Shackleton reach the South Pole.

Shackleton and his men marched on for an additional month, coming remarkably close to their elusive geographic goal. Never­theless, he had opened the door to a remarkable series of events – a dual equestrian exploration of Antarctica by Great Britain and Ger­many, both of which also employed meat-eating horses.

If you have additional personal or historical evidence, please contact CuChullaine O’Reilly at

longriders@thelongridersguild.com

To learn more about the “Deadly Equines” research project visit -http://www.lrgaf.org/deadly_equines.htm

To participate in the international discussion regarding “Deadly Equines” visit -

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Deadly-Equines-The-Shocking-True-Story-of-Meat-Eating-Murderous-Horses/226312534070463?sk=photos

To order the book visit – http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/deadly-equines-cuchullaine-oreilly/1104580837?ean=9781590480038&itm=1&

CuChullaine O’Reilly is an equestrian explorer, Fellow of the Royal Geographical Society and the Explorers’ Club, one of the Founders of The Long Riders’ Guild, Director of the LRG-AF, publisher of the LRG Press and author of Khyber Knights.

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Why ‘I’ climbed Mount Everest, and maybe why you shouldn’t

by

Ben Thackwray

This is an abridged extract from a chapter of the book I’m writing that also includes the stories of how ‘a whale’ smashed our rudder off our ocean rowing boat in the middle of the Atlantic and how we were hunted by two Polar Bears for two days in Greenland:

I’m not going to lie to you; I’m not the first person to climb Mount Everest!

For me climbing Everest wasn’t about doing something that would grab the headlines and it wasn’t about doing something completely contrived or exaggerated to seem more interesting or grandiose than it actually is.

I wasn’t going to ‘do it for charity’ (I worked hard and saved up for it for ten years and still had to borrow a large amount from the bank as I didn’t pursue any sponsorship), and I wasn’t going to do it on a pogo stick or be ‘the first person to carry a bottle of Reggae Reggae sauce to the summit’. (And now I’ve done it I’m not going to claim some stupidly specific title like ‘first man to row the Atlantic, ski across Greenland, run the Marathon des Sables, traverse Denali, climb Mount Everest, be 5’ 8” and live in Leeds’, because I don’t know, or care if I am or not’!)

I climbed Mount Everest purely for the love and experience of doing it.

Climbing Mount Everest has simply always been something that I have wanted to do ever since I can remember, but I remember specifically when I committed to it. It was the 13th of May 1995 (my 15th birthday) and there was a piece on ‘Newsround’ about Alison Hargreaves reaching the summit of Mount Everest. I remember standing there watching it, knowing, that I was going to do that one day (and secretly hoping to summit on my 30th birthday).

Climbing Mount Everest was actually part of a long list of things which formed naturally through childhood that I ‘knew’ I was going to do and which I’m working my way through. The big three (which are public knowledge) of the longer list were to Row the Atlantic, climb Mount Everest and Ski to the South Pole, which I grouped together into a personal project which goes by the name of ‘The Adventure Trilogy’. The idea with the Trilogy was that I would have to, ‘to some extent’, master three very different disciplines in three very different dangerous environments and I would get to experience firsthand everything that goes with that. It’s never been about doing ‘something’ out of the ordinary for me, it’s always for me been about certain specific things and I’m pretty sure once the list is finished I give it all up and go and live in a log cabin somewhere away from everything. I think if you don’t inherently already know what the majority of your next c10 projects are going to be, and you’re searching around to create ‘something’ to do, maybe whatever you end up doing perhaps doesn’t mean that much to you and maybe, you’re just doing it for a different reason? – Which is fine, I understand that, and each to their own.

Having rowed the Atlantic in 2008 I had planned to go to Everest in 2010 but due to a set back out in Greenland in 2009 on an expedition we were using as a precursor to our South Pole attempt (The ENDURE MORE expedition), Everest had to be put back to 2011. When I finally got to base camp this year in Tibet it was everything I had imagined and planned for, for all those years.

Sitting back at home now feeling fine I could find it easy to say it was a piece of cake but I have to admit it was a lot more difficult than I was expecting! It is difficult, anyone who thinks because it’s a popular mountain these days that it is easy, is an idiot. (And as you can probably tell I’m pretty tired of hearing things like ‘more people have climbed Everest than….rode a bike along this obscure coastal track whilst wearing a tutu’, or something to that effect).

I climbed Everest via the North East Ridge which is the route made famous by Mallory and Irvine’s 1924 ill fated attempt. For me because of the history and the actual climbing en route to the summit this offered the most interesting climbing option as opposed the southern route first climbed by Norgay and Hillary in 1953. (Who along with Mallory and Irvine, having been there now myself, my already gushing admiration for has grown significantly).

Above the mass of crevasses, over hanging seracs, avalanche hazards and ice walls that is the North Col and the deceptively steep (and seemingly never ending) snow slope of the North Ridge, the climbing really gets interesting! But I can’t really tell you anything about the route that you can’t find in a book somewhere else, other than maybe; there is “a big rock” at c7200m!

What I can tell you is that my summit day and the events that unfolded I’ll never forget and may have changed my life a little.

Summit day really starts from camp 2 at 7800m as you spend so little time at camp 3 at 8300m (the highest campsite in the world) before the final push for the summit. When we started out from 8300m in the dark at around 21:00, it was cold but not too cold (about -20 centigrade) it was snowing a little but there was hardly any wind. Even though I was already tired, being well above my previous altitude record I started strong, but it wasn’t long before things started to go ‘downhill’.

There are around 12 dead bodies of climbers on this route above 8300m, one wrapped in a tent just a few yards from where we started in camp 3 but mostly they’re up high on the ridge above 8500m. After a few hours we made it up onto the North East Ridge itself and ‘took a right’ just before the famous ‘landmark’ of the body of an Indian climber, Tsewang Paljor, now referred to as ‘Green Boots’. I’m not going to sugar coat this, the route is so narrow at this point you have to pass within 2 feet of his body, and although I’m not squeamish or affected by things like this it is a very real reminder that you are pushing the limits and should things go wrong in the next 12 hours this is where you’ll stay!

After passing Green Boots, on the ridge there are just the three famous rock ‘steps’ to negotiate and over a mile in length of highly exposed ridge. “What could be simpler, there are fixed ropes and ladders, it’s just a walk” – I have to say that this view which I’ve heard a few times is not only flippant and uniformed it’s a little bit stupid!

The three steps each produced events that I will never forget. It was still night as I made it to the first step and below us, a long way below us, we could see the flashing and cracking of thunderstorms in the clouds over in the distance towards Cho Oyu.

I committed to climbing the first step in my smaller gloves as it appeared a lot more difficult than expected and as it wasn’t particularly cold I’d benefit from the added dexterity. Unfortunately climbing the first step took longer than expected and my hands got extremely cold due to a combination of a number of contributing factors, and because of where I was, hanging off the mountain over a substantial fall I couldn’t stop to either warm my hands properly or get my biggest mitts out. I was a little bit unlucky, and by the time I reached the top of the step and a place where I could stand and stop, my hands were frozen! When I removed my gloves to assess the damage I could see my right hand in particular had no blood in any of the fingers past their base at the palm of my hand, I had frostbite!

I now had the difficult decision to make, do I go back down and try and save my fingers, or do I carry on to the summit and risk losing them all?! After warming my hands the best I could, stood there on a knife edge ridge over 8500m in the dark, I managed to get blood back almost right to ends of my fingers, and as I was alone at the top of the step I simply radioed into Advanced Base Camp, “Just climbed the first step, moving on toward the second’. I decided to carry on toward the summit.

Although the summit was still around 7 hours away at this point and the decision resulted in me losing the distal phalanx of two fingers when I got back home (which I’ve had made into a very nice, albeit macabre, pair of cufflinks) I don’t regret it one bit, because to me, it was worth it! (Anyone that says climbing Everest isn’t worth losing the ends of a few fingers for maybe isn’t as passionate about climbing it as I was, or maybe to them it isn’t worth it, which I understand. To me it was. I certainly wouldn’t advise making the same decision as I did to someone else though, I’d tell them to go down immediately, as would the guys I was climbing with, absolutely, which is why I kept it to myself!)

So with a frozen hand I moved along the ridge towards the second step, famously the crux of the route. Because it is the crux, it is a lot more discussed than the other two steps so before you get there, you will have seen pictures of it and discussed it in more detail, and generally will be well prepared for it. What I wasn’t prepared for was what happened whilst I was climbing it.

The oxygen masks we were using which are the best performers at high altitude have a rubber valve on the right hand side to allow ambient air flow into the mask to mix with the flow of oxygen from the oxygen system itself. The valve itself is covered by a small piece of plastic which keeps your down jacket from obstructing the valve. When I was climbing the second step I noticed that this plastic cap had fallen off, and the reason I noticed it was missing was because the rubber valve which it covers was now completely frozen and not allowing any air into the mask at all. I was gasping and again found myself in a position not conducive to sorting problems like this out.

Then, when not only was I climbing the most strenuous section of the route, with a frozen hand, and a broken oxygen system in the dark at c8700m, all of a sudden my guts woke up for the day! I’d had the shits for the last few days and at this point with everything else going on I wasn’t going to be able to stop here, loosen all my  down clothing and under garments and relieve myself (at least, outside my clothing). So I literally, and quiet happily at the time, shit myself!

At the top of the second step I managed to unfreeze the oxygen masks valve by removing the mask completely and breathing as hard as I could onto the valve to defrost it. This was only a temporary fix though and every 20 minutes or so from then on I had to stop as the mask collapsed against my face as it repeatedly froze , inevitably when I needed air the most, and try again and again to defrost it. This was a less than ideal situation to be in above 8700m at the top of second step where there is an obvious scattering of dead bodies, most of whom I believe were attempting to summit without oxygen, and again I had to assess this time whether my now less than perfect oxygen supply was reason to continue or to retreat. This will sound bad but, I never had any doubt that I was going to reach the summit so even though things were going far from ‘the plan’ this was just another thing at the time to accept and deal with, and I carried on.

Shortly after this the sun came up and we could see the curvature of the earth and how beautiful everything was so far beneath us, although this was only appreciated in hindsight looking back at photos taken, because at the time, as everyone is at this point, I was pretty much on my last legs and really pushing myself to the limit and it was intense focus, at least for me, that seemed to mask any sentimentality or appreciation for the beauty of where I was.

By the time you get to the third step it feels pretty close to the summit and I climbed this with relative ease only to discover that above this, on a very exposed knife edge section where there’s an enormous serac over hanging the 13,000ft, almost vertical, drop of the Kanshung face; there was no pre-fixed rope and the section needed to be traversed free (and very carefully). It wasn’t until on the descent that it became apparent there was actually a rope, but it was pulled off the ridge down the north face by the body attached to it of an Irish climber we had met alive and well just a few days before down in Base Camp.

So after another hour or so, and a very exposed final traverse of the highest part the North Face at c8800m I finally made it to the summit ridge and set foot on the summit of Mount Everest on the 26th May 2011, 16 years after I committed myself to it.

Exhausted, with a frozen hand, massively hypoxic due to problems with my oxygen mask (and not forgetting the altitude!), sat covered in my own piss and shit having had to literally climb over the dead bodies of people we knew to get there, I didn’t exactly feel particularly triumphant as you might have expected one would do, being able to look down on the rest of the world; and having never had any doubt I would get there I didn’t feel the need to savour the moment or celebrate too much so I only spent a few minutes there before I set off down to ensure that I got down alive and we could call the climb ‘a success’. (Watch video from the summit here)

The descent, as expected, was infinitely harder than the ascent and I was ‘in the hurt locker’ like I’d only been once or twice before, once at the end of a 100 mile nonstop ultra marathon over the Pennines and when we crossed Greenland in 2010 in 15 days, but I do think it was these types of experiences that got me down, because I ‘knew’ I could keep going!

I was completely alone when I descended the hardest part of second step safely and just as I was feeling that I could make it down in one piece my crampon slipped on some loose snow and I took a fall off the edge of the step over the north face and landed flat on my back on a very small ledge about 5-6 feet below where I should have been and about 1 foot higher than where the rope would have broken my fall completely – the drop beyond the ledge was only about 8000ft. I wasn’t hurt but laying there on my back I looked up over my shoulder to see what I think was the body of another climber who I believe had done a similar thing on descent but broken a leg and consequently had not been able to move any further.

It was time to stop messing around at this point and I pushed hard to get down and made it back to high camp a few hours later where I stayed for just a few hours more before setting off again to get below 8000m to camp 2 at 7800m. Camp 2 was a welcome sight but after being on the go for around 20 hours, reaching the summit, getting back down, being covered in my own piss and shit, hypoxic, with a frostbitten hand, I was incredulous to find two European climbers inside my tent on their way up the mountain with no kit of their own! One was even inside my sleeping bag refusing to get out because, I quote, “my hands are cold”!

Thankfully the other guy wasn’t an arse hole, and after 20 minutes of what I’ll describe as ‘polite discussion’ (officially no swearing or threatening each other involved at all), we agreed I was right! (To quote Brian Clough), and he removed himself from my tent and I slipped into my nice ‘pre-warmed’ sleeping bag and went soundly to sleep.

Ben´s CV:

• Climbed Kilimanjaro in 2 days no acclimatisation
• Finished top 10 Brits in the Marathon des Sables
• Ultra marathon runner, max distance 100 miles non-stop and PB for 50 miles of 7hrs 57mins
• Summited and traversed Denali (Mount McKinley) – 1 of the only times in last ten years
• Rowed across the Atlantic – Set the fastest ever crossing from Canaries to Antigua
• Set fastest British crossing of Greenland
• Climbed Everest

He also works as an expedition leader and manager and professional adventurer for Adventure Hub (www.adventurehub.com) and am currently recruiting crews and team members for an Indian Ocean rowing record, the Adventure Hub expedition series and planning for our Antarctic Traverse expedition next year.

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I get loads of emails about these issues. It is obviously questions that tends to create debate, opinions and which many in the business talk about right now. In my opinion though, this is kind of an extra class at school, maybe not necessary for most, but important for some. Because I am for all kinds of adventures, no matter what! But since I have received so many emails and thought about it a lot since Ireland, and I have written about it earlier and it is kind of growing by the day on me, well, maybe we in the world of adventure and exploration have to find ways to set up some guidelines to define. It is normal evolution and development. With this article I kind of want to make these issues more clear and possibly more understandable. Let me than first talk about the subject of:

1. Who can call her- or himself an explorer?

The organizers of the 1st Adventure Filmfestival in Killarney made a quite clear distinction between what they see as adventurers and explorers. Basically, if you deal with people, cultures, animals, scientific or un-scientific research and anything else than yourself on an Expedition, you are in the business of exploration. If you, however, either ski to any of the poles or climb a peak like Everest, which basically is a personal thing where the essence of it all is oneself against nature, than you are in the business of adventure. (If you don´t do research in these areas) So, the organizers, the  Explore Foundation, wanted to concentrate on what they see as the exploration part and therefore hardly any of the films dealt with mountaineering or polar skiing.

However, everyone seem to start out as adventurer as a youngster, hoping to get into exploration, where the self is less important and the values of the world and life is a greater pull. This applies to me. I saw myself as a new Indiana Jones, but ended up today, wishing I could be Karen Armstrong (See film below) There´s no doubt that age defines. I guess the older you get, the more you understand, the less important one realizes that one is.

How do you define what is an explorer? Anyone seem to get away calling themselves an adventurer, because at the end of the day, that isn´t a chosen title that appeal to the world as much as calling yourself an explorer. Whatever that is. I have seen, especially in Britain, as quick as you have taken the diapers off and start to travel, you call yourself an explorer. It has a grand appeal in Britain especially. Which is fully understandable, since the UK, in my eyes, is still the worlds biggest exporter of adventure and exploration. But also the main part of the exploring world who use the words record breaking, unsupported and being first more than the rest of the globe.

But how do you define what an explorer is? Well, I call myself an explorer, because I have been doing this job since 1986 and I don´t know any other word which summarizes all I do.  Soon I will take it away.

However, I have talked to a lot of people involved in this business and it seems like if you are a Fellow of the Explorers Club and the Royal Geographical Society, have featured somehow with National Geographic, have carried the Flag of any of the clubs, you have a reason. But, things have changed lately. To appeal to the Explorers Club, you need to have done years of work and have a scientific base to your explorations/adventures. Makes sense. The RGS seem to have lowered their standards a lot. Being a Fellow there isn´t as much an honor as ten years back. I think it is due to that explorers/adventurers are not wanted as much as geographers. The debate is still going on, see here. Check here what it takes to get in.  The word explorer is deleted and the high standards dead. Maybe the president Michael Palin can sort things out.

Others, like for example the important ExplorersWeb, who make a living out of the name explorer, has no clear distinction what defines an explorer, but have set up important guidelines on other important issues which deals with this odd world. They do focus primarily on climbers and polar skiers, though. They also go against the stream and Tom and Tina Sjögren have no interest being part of any clubs I mention in this article. Even if they´re more than qualified.

The Long Riders Guild have a long list of guide lines which has to be met to become a member of their guild. See here!

So, is there a definition? Not really. If you see yourself as an explorer, you are one!

This topic has been discussed and commented in this article, The need for debate on Expedition Arabia. And in CuChullaine O´Reilly´s excellent article on Ethical Exploration! And, of course, Arita Baaijens Exploration, an outdoor activity or not?

2. Unsupported.

I have to admit I had no idea really what it meant, when I planned my Arabian Expedition and I called it unsupported. Mainly because I had the idea, if you don´t have air drops or similar, but do all by yourself, it is unsupported. Than I talked to a legend at the RGS, Shane Winser, and she rightfully said:

“Hogwash! If you carry a satellite phone, how can you call that unsupported?”

So right, as always, Shane. ExplorersWeb has set up a great guideline on rules and definitions to be able to claim this and that, see here! It is almost perfect, but again, it deals with people who go for mountains, poles, oceans and nothing with Expeditions dealing with cultures, people and animals first hand. If you do that, it is impossible to call anything unsupported. However, they do think it is ok with a satellite phone and GPS to be able to claim an unsupported. So who is right?

This topic has been discussed in these two articles, Am I a fake and cheat?

3. To claim to be first.

This is a tag that follows many in the field. I have done those mistakes. You think it will give you more attention. You say; This is a first, unsupported and record breaking. Even if your idea is to photograph relatively unknown tribes in Africa or elsewhere, you still throw in those tags because you think it will draw more attention to what you do. Something I fully can understand. But is it needed to get the attention one obviously wants? And can one really claim to be first today in a way that actually makes a difference now when all the major (except the depth of oceans) geographical prizes have been taken?

I think so, if you choose to do something as challenging as Matvey Shparo and Börge Ousland by crossing the whole North Pole from one side to another in winter darkness. I think that is extra ordinary and historical.  So is Ed Stafford´s 2 year walk along the Amazon. Otherwise, to claim that you have been where no other white person has been or you have crossed Greenland in a shopping cart, it is just not true. And it isn´t worth trying to claim it. We live in a world of massive information possibilities and if it isn´t true, it will eventually hit back at you. Look at The Long Walk series.  And this article I wrote earlier called Fakes and Cheats.  And on top of all this, people are exploring and travelling more than ever.

So, do you need to use these massive words like unsupported, record breaking and the first ever to make a living?

Answer:

I hope not. I think that in the future, more interest has to lie in matters dealing with the well being of others, building bridges between cultures and creating understanding globally, and less with being first and unsupported. It has pretty much all been done. However, the world is forever changing, so new knowledge is always needed. And always will be. Do we need self occupied adventurers?

Yes, we do. We all have to be reminded that everything is possible. But, I hope, much less.

Initially, when you start a career in this genre, you do claim this and that, you are so full of yourself, I am talking from my own experience here, and possibly it can be a short time winner, to be able to claim that you have done this unsupported and it is a first. One or two sponsors can buy that.  But in the long run, if you need to live on it for the rest of your life, it needs to involve matters how we look upon this world and what we can do to sort out the problems we have created for futures to come. There´s only a few who can live on being the one who did the first. Whether it is true or not. So for most people, there has to be something more.

As an example, I had a general email from SVT (Swedish television) yesterday that they have absolutely no interest in self promoting adventures.  They get tons of emails from people all over the world who wants to do firsts and unsupported. It is of no interest to them anymore. Just as an example of the changing winds of society.

Maybe Killarney and Explore Foundation could become a hub of exploration and define?

As a final note, see this extra ordinary TED talk with one of my favorite scholars.

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]]> http://www.mikaelstrandberg.com/2011/04/17/how-important-is-it-to-be-first-andor-unsupported/feed/ 21 http://www.mikaelstrandberg.com/2010/03/25/guest-writer-12-alastair-humphreys/ http://www.mikaelstrandberg.com/2010/03/25/guest-writer-12-alastair-humphreys/#comments Thu, 25 Mar 2010 18:13:01 +0000 mikael http://www.mikaelstrandberg.com/?p=1567

My next guest writer, Alastair Humphreys, is by far one of the most active young explorers on earth.  He tweets, blogs, lectures, takes photos and am part of many bigger or smaller Expeditions. He is genuinely fantastic. On top of that he isn´t as many within adventure, daft. He wrote this piece especially for me and my blog and thoughts around the subject of exploration:

We were born too late to be explorers. To be real explorers. To be one of the hard men (for they were always men back then) fired by such curiosity, such desperate yearning to cross the next horizon, that they were willing to set off for years on end with slim chance of returning, with absolutely no contact with Home. To sail out into a sea risked falling off the edge of the world. To seek new lands meant encounters with dragons, if the only maps available were to be believed.
With the honourable exceptions of deep oceans and caves, the odd jungle or desert, and the vastness of space, there is little chance of encountering dragons on today’s expeditions. Almost everywhere has been mapped. So we are not really explorers, at least not in the traditional sense of marking new territory for Queen and Country.
Some modern explorers are exploring what it is physically possible to achieve. They are effectively elite athletes, highly skilled professionals pushing the limits of what is possible. I put a lot of climbers in this category, those who seek out ever more arduous, contorted routes up ever steeper, increasingly dangerous rock faces or peaks.
You can even get chocolate ice cream at the South Pole, and yet ever greater numbers of people are pitting themselves against the poles, chasing speed records, doing journeys faster and faster. The record breakers are exceptional people in their niches; stronger, fitter, faster, and more determined than the others.

I too call myself an Explorer or an Adventurer though I am not particularly comfortable with either word. But I am not pitting myself against the world, questing to tread where no man has trod before. Nor am I breaking records. I am no athlete. I have never won a race in my life, let alone notched a ‘World First’ on my bedpost. So what do I do, and what do I have to say that may be of interest if I am so vociferously average?

When I was at university I became very conscious that life was passing me by. Days and weeks and months were building towards years. Years that I could ill afford to allow to drift by. And so I decided to start using my days, wringing them dry, squeezing every drop from them. The medium I chose for that was travel and adventure. Others may turn to music, or to poetry, or to algebra. It does not matter. All that matters is that you find your passion and feast on it greedily.

Alastair in Siberia....

I humoured my parents and remained at university until I graduated. But then I was off! In the last few years I have cycled 72,000km through 60 countries, a journey that took in extremes such as a Siberian winter and a Turkmenistan summer. I have sailed oceans, run through the Sahara, walked across India and rowed to France with a paralysed soldier. I feel truly fortunate to have had so many adventures and to be busily planning more all the time – to Iceland, the South Pole, the Empty Quarter… I have done so much. But that is not a boast. For I really believe that absolutely anybody could do the things that I have done. And if everyone can do it then it is nothing much to shout about.
So why am I shouting about it?

I have done things that seem extraordinary to ME. I have accomplishedd things that seemed beyond ME. I have pushed MY physical and mental limits and I have continually surprised myself at what I am able to achieve. I am aware now, more than I ever was before I began my challenges, that I am capable of so much and that life can be so full.
I have nothing really to offer except my average-ness. I am a very ordinary person. And that means that if you are an ordinary person then you too could do all that I have done and will do, if only you choose to do so and then begin doing it.

Most people who become professional adventurers specialise. They develop a passion for one aspect of adventure, be that sailing, climbing, caving etc. But I am deliberately steering away from that model. I am not very good at any one thing, and I don’t care. What excites me is to try new things, to learn new skills, and to work hard to become competent at them. I do not have a particular favourite country or continent. I am not drawn to deserts more than jungles. I love crazy third world cities as much as empty mountain tops. I see myself as a curious person. I try to remind myself to gaze at the world with the puzzled fascination babies give every new experience. I am interested in any expedition that is physically, mentally or culturally challenging. I veer towards non-mechanised, low budget projects, either solo or with one companion. I relish periods of time when I see no other human or sign of life, yet the greatest, most lasting travel experiences invariably arise through the people you meet on your journeys. You learn a lot about yourself and your own life when you are by yourself; you learn a lot about the world and about life in general when you spend time with people in very different environments to your own home town.

Africa.....

If I was a millionaire I would spend far more time away on expeditions. But I would not spend all my time away, for I enjoy “normal life” too, and you need doses of that to help you appreciate how fortunate you are when you get away on an adventure. But I am not a millionaire. Or at least, not yet! So I devote a lot of my time to earning money and saving up for the next project. I write books, articles, and a regular blog. But most of my income is generated through giving talks, to school children and to businesses. I share my experiences so that people can travel vicariously through me. I try to convey the lessons I have learned – that the world is an essentially good place, that the only hard thing I have ever done is having the guts to begin doing what I loved doing, and that adventure is only a state of mind.

Read his impressive CV at http://www.alastairhumphreys.com/about-2/
Alastair Humphreys
www.alastairhumphreys.com

1. Annapurna by Maurice Herzog. This is the way real climbs, real exploration should be done. Before you had set routes and ropes fixed to the mountain. This book presents the enthralling account, by the leader of the French expedition, of the first conquest of Annapurna – at that time, and at more than 8000 metres, the highest mountain ever climbed. It is a story of breathtaking courage and determination against appalling odds. In records of mountaineering, in tales of human endeavour, there is nothing so unforgettable as the account of the descent by the triumphant but frost-bitten men, after the monsoon had broken, through the flooded valleys of Nepal.

Many think this is the best adventure book ever written.....

2. The worst journey in the world by Aspley Cherry-Garrard. This book gave me and Johan Ivarsson great insights into the cold during our Siberian Expedition. One of the youngest members of Scott’s team, Apsley Cherry-Garrard was later part of the rescue party that eventually found the frozen bodies of Scott and three men who had accompanied him on the final push to the Pole. This is his account of an expedition that had gone disastrously wrong. No episode in the history of human endeavour reads more harrowingly than Scott’s last expedition to Antarctica. Scott reached the South Pole in January 1911 to find Roald Amundsen had beaten him to it; then perished with his companions on the way home. ‘Yet, “tragedy”‘, Apsley Cherry-Garrard was to write a decade later, ‘was not our business.’ Cherry-Garrard was just 24, the youngest but one of the team when he joined Scott. Left behind for the final leg, in accordance with Scott’s original plan for a four-man advance, it fell to Cherry-Garrard eight months later to be a member of the search party which discovered their frozen bodies. The experience permanently damaged his mental health. For the rest of his life he was haunted by the fear that, but for what he perceived as an error of judgement on his part, they might have survived. Yet this book, his story of that and earlier expeditions, is in no way self-indulgent or sensationalist. Despite his name, aristocratic birth and classics degree from Oxford, Cherry-Garrard was no arrogant nobleman. Rather, this not especially robust but intelligent man well understood that polar exploration requires a singular fortitude pushing beyond brute strength to what Ranulph Fiennes was later to term mind over matter. Cherry-Garrard’s descriptions of the conditions suffered are rendered all the more diabolical by prose as stark as the landscape traversed. As for hyperbole, the ‘Worst Journey’ of the title in fact refers to an earlier expedition investigating nesting sites of the Emperor penguin. A work of supreme dimension, this masterpiece remains as compelling today as when it was first published 80 years ago.

3. The Heart of the Hunter by Laurens Van der Post. A beautiful book about travels among the Bushmen. In this stirring sequel to “The Lost World” of the Kalahari Laurens van der Post records everything he has learned of the life and lore of Africa’s first inhabitants. He explores the very sources of the Bushmen’s spirit and imagination – their dreams and stories, the legends that guide them and inspire them in their daily battles with that harshest of environments, the Kalahari.

CuChullaine O´Reilly on his famous ride!

4. Arctic dreams by Barry Lopez. An amazingly inspiring account from the northern part of the globe. The European picture of the Arctic is usually of snow and ice: the inhospitability of the terrain and the frigid wastes of the tundra contribute to our incapacity to imagine ordinary life there. In this magisterial book Barry Lopez draws on this hazy understanding of the far north to provide a compelling account of the land and its hold upon the psyche.It is a book which could be compared to Chatwin for its combination of travelogue and poetic vision. Yet the beauty of the prose and the thought-provoking evocations of modern culture’s shifting relationship with the environment are in a league of their own. Here are sparkling descriptions of the lives of caribou, muskoxen, polar bears and narwhals, and extraordinarily moving passages which meditate on the nature of our relationship with the world, the inter-dependence of ideas, desire and science and the possibility of dignity and compassion in the contemporary world.It is a measure of the respect which Lopez has for his subject that his book exemplifies the supreme importance which he ascribes to the ethics of respect in the face of all existential paradox:”There are simply no answers to some of the great pressing questions. You continue to live them out, making your life a worthy expression of a leaning into the light”.

5. Khyber Knights by CuChullaine O´Reilly. A very good friend of mine. It is an account of perilous adventure and forbidden romance in the depths of mystic Asia. A real modern day tale! It is also a book of insights to the human soul. It has everything an adventure book should have!

6. Scott and Amundsen by Roland Huntford. The best book about the race to the South Pole between Roald Amundsen and Robert Falcon Scott. It is not much liked by many British, but as somebody who is brought up in snow and cold, and know a bit about polar exploration, I think it is very accurate. Roald Amundsen should have been give much more acclaim for his fantastic life and discoveries. It is a very dramatic book,but gives a very good background on both of them.

Courtesy Robin Davidson. Probably the best account of an adventure I have read written by a female explorer.

7. Tracks by Robyn Davidson. Even though most of my recommended books are about males, most likely because they are described and written in a way that appeals to me and my way to explore, I think that books about adventure and exploration written by women, generally are better as a whole. Women are more honest, lie and brag about themselves much less and are much more emotional. This book as excellent. In every way and should be read by everyone who is thinking about doing adventures and Expeditions. It is a bout her 1700 mile trek with camels across the Western desert of Australia.

8. The voyage of the Beagle by Charles Darwin. I had no idea that Charles Darwin was such a good writer. The book is a must in many ways, since quite a few of his ideas regarding the evolution of mankind began developing here, but it is also a great travel book full of adventures and insights into all these countries that the Beagle passed on its 5 years journey.

Annapurna - Maurice Herzog classical account of the first 8000 meter mountain to be climbed.

9. The incredible voyage by Tristan Jones. Amazing book by an amazing fella. His passage with his boat through South-America is just unbelievable. He is a very good writer and this will be a classic in the future. With a singleness of purpose as ferocious as any hazard he encountered, Tristan Jones would not give up – even after dodging snipers on the Red Sea, capsizing off the Cape of Good Hope, starving on the Amazon, struggling for 3,000 miles against the mightiest sea current in the world, and hauling his boat over the rugged Andes three miles above sea level to find at last the legendary Island of the Sun. And beyond lay the most awesome challenge of all – the tortuous trek through 6,000 miles of uncharted rivers to find his way back to the ocean.

10  Arabian Sands by Wilfried Thesiger. By now, I have read the book many times. It is part poetry, part the meaning of life, but most a great read about his amazing explorations in the Arabian desert, and most of all, in Rub Al-Khali. Thesiger himself sums it up himself, by saying in his foreword:

No man can live this life and emerge unchanged. He will carry, however faint, the imprint of the desert, the brand which marks the nomad; and he will have within him the yearning to return, weak or insistent according to his nature. For this cruel land can cast a spell which no temperate clime can hope to match.

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