Death In Antarctica: Adventurers Who Live On The Edge Sometimes Topple Off
Virtually all outdoor enthusiasts, myself included, regard Sir Ernest Shackleton’s ill-fated Imperial Trans-Antarctic Expedition in 1915 as history’s most extraordinary survival tale, in which he and his entire crew managed to make it back to England after their vessel, Endurance, was trapped in pack ice and slowly crushed.
Under Shackleton’s bold, resourceful leadership, the adventurers abandoned ship and divided into two groups, with one party hunkered down in a makeshift camp while the other embarked on a perilous, 720-mile voyage in a 20-foot open lifeboat, and then had to climb an icy, crevasse-riddled mountain in order to summon rescuers.
Less-often reported, though is Shackleton’s return to the frigid, isolated continent five years later. Most people who escape from a harrowing ordeal would be tempted to adopt a more cautious lifestyle, but the intrepid explorer, who had experienced financial setbacks after his return to England, eventually went back to the Antarctic as leader of the Shackleton-Rowett Expedition, once again determined to make his mark.
Alas, while Shackleton’s ship was moored in South Georgia he died of a heart attack at age 48 — a less-than-glorious ending to such an adventurous life.
Shackleton’s exploits were in the news earlier this week following the saga of Henry Worsley, a 55-year–old former British Army officer who was inspired by the 20th-century explorer to attempt the first solo, unassisted crossing of the Antarctic.
Worsley, who claimed to be a distant relative of Frank Worsley, captain of the Endurance, spent 71 brutal days dragging hundreds of pounds of supplies in a sled for 913 miles in frightful conditions before he collapsed barely 30 miles from the finish, suffering from exhaustion and what was later diagnosed as bacterial peritonitis — inflammation of the peritoneum, a thin layer of tissue lining the inside of the abdomen.
Worsley used a satellite phone to transmit his final broadcast, in which he referenced Shackleton’s message in 1909 that he had “shot his bolt” and therefore was abandoning his attempt to reach the South Pole (the Endurance voyage was Shackleton’s third trip to Antarctica).
“Well, today I have to inform you with some sadness that I, too, have shot my bolt,” Worsely said. He then called for a rescue plane that flew him to a hospital in Chile, where he died after surgery Jan. 24.
Historians will now judge whether Worsely will be remembered as a daring adventurer or impetuous daredevil in his obsessive quest to complete Shackleton’s unfinished journey. Worsley’s credentials and connections certainly point to an honorable legacy — a friend of Britain’s royal princes William and Harry, he used the expedition to raise about $140,000 for the Endeavour Fund, run by the Duke of Cambridge, Duchess of Cambridge and Prince Harry’s Royal Foundation, which aids injured servicemen and women.
Yet there’s no walking back the tragic conclusion to his expedition.
To be sure, every celebrated explorer over the centuries has taken considerable risks. In addition, in some cases their valorous reputations survived unheroic footnotes.
Take Sir Henry Hudson, the 17th century English sea explorer and navigator who discovered the bay and river later named for him while searching for the legendary Northwest Passage above the Arctic Circle.
Though hailed for helping promote Dutch colonization, he was reviled by his crew. In 1611, after wintering in James Bay, they mutinied and cast Hudson, his son and seven others adrift. They were never seen again.
Christopher Columbus, revered by many as the explorer who “discovered” America in 1492 (we now know he made a colossal navigational error), certainly was viewed less charitably not only by Native Americans but also by inhabitants of various islands where he landed during four separate voyages to the New World.
These were marked by the slaughter and subjugation of hapless islanders, along with the plundering of their riches. His return to Europe also was hardly exemplary; he spent years embroiled in legal disputes over his share of the plundered booty.
Captain Meriwether Lewis and his close friend, Second Lieutenant William Clark, returned as heroes in 1806 from their two-year expedition to the Pacific coast, but Lewis did not enjoy lasting adulation.
In 1809 he set out for Washington, D.C., where he hoped to settle claims that left him heavily in debt.
Lewis stopped at an inn in Tennessee, and accounts vary on what happened next: He either was shot and stabbed by intruders or committed suicide. Either way, a disgraced Lewis bled to death.
These anecdotes are by no means meant to suggest that all explorers/adventurers are flawed. But it does seem clear that those who live on the edge sometimes topple off.
Comment threads are monitored for 48 hours after publication and then closed.