I’m planning to add blog pieces about why masculinity exists, how is exists and who are examples of it. I call it the why, how and who of masculinity. This is the first of the who of masculinity.
Today I thought I’d talk about Scott of the Antarctic, famously known for trying to be the first to the South Pole but also famously failing and dying in the attempt. His attempt is shown in the film “Scott of the Antarctic” with famous actor John Mills portraying him.
This happened in 1900s and 1910s when no-one had actually been to the South Pole. Others had tried but the race was finally between the British Scott and the Norwegian Amundsen.
Robert Falcon Scott, Scott of the Antarctic, born in 1868, was not just an explorer but a symbol of British heroism in the “Heroic Age of Antarctic Exploration.” His story is one of ambition, adventure, and ultimately, tragedy.
Scott joined the Royal Navy at 13, a career path that would lead him to polar exploration. His first taste of the Antarctic came with the Discovery Expedition (1901-1904), where he served as second-in-command under Sir Clements Markham. This expedition laid the groundwork for Scott’s fascination with the Antarctic.
Scott’s second expedition, aboard the ship Terra Nova, was meticulously planned but faced numerous challenges:
The primary objective was to reach the South Pole, but unbeknownst to Scott initially, Amundsen had the same goal. Amundsen’s strategy was different; he used dogs for transport, while Scott relied on ponies, motor sledges, and man-hauling, which proved less effective. Scott had rejected dogs as he had had problems with them before.
Scott’s team was plagued by equipment failures, including the motor sledges which broke down early. The ponies were not suited to the harsh conditions and had to be shot, leaving the men to pull their own sledges. Scott soldered on but arrived at the South Pole to find the Norwegian flag planted there 34 days before by Amundsen.
The Antarctic weather was unforgiving, with blizzards and extreme cold slowing progress. Their return was marked by a particularly brutal storm at the end, which trapped them in their tent just 11 miles from a supply depot.
On their return from the Pole, Scott’s party of five – Scott, Edward Wilson, Henry Bowers, Lawrence Oates, and Edgar Evans – faced dwindling supplies, extreme weather, and physical exhaustion. Evans died first from injuries sustained in a fall, followed by Oates, who sacrificed himself by walking out into a blizzard, famously saying, “I am just going outside and may be some time.”
The remaining three men reached their final campsite, where they succumbed to the cold. Scott’s last diary entries reveal his anguish, a testament to their ordeal, and his concern for his family and team’s reputation.
Scott’s decisions have been debated. Critics argue his route was longer, his reliance on man-hauling was inefficient, and his timing was poor. It’s easy to criticise with hindsight. However, supporters highlight his bravery, scientific contributions (the expedition gathered significant geological and biological data), and the personal sacrifices made.
Scott’s story has permeated British culture, inspiring books, plays, films like “Scott of the Antarctic” (1948), and even influencing educational curricula. His letters and diaries, published posthumously, turned him into a tragic hero, embodying the British ideal of endeavour in the face of adversity.
Despite the tragedy, the expedition’s scientific work was substantial, contributing to understanding of Antarctic geology, meteorology, and biology.
Scott’s narrative is a poignant reminder of human limits and the relentless pursuit of knowledge at the edge of the world. His journals, now preserved, offer a firsthand account of the human spirit’s resilience against the backdrop of nature’s vast indifference.
A heroic failure but a hero nonetheless, he is an example of masculinity.
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