#canadian arctic expedition

[jesslovesboats]

Happy Karluk Rescue Day! The survivors of the Karluk were rescued from Wrangel Island on this day 109 years ago. The first rescued were Maurer, Munro, and Templeman, who were rescued from the smaller camp at Rodger's Harbour, a few miles from the others.

Immediately after being rescued, all three of the men from Rodger's Harbour asked for cans of sweetened condensed milk.

The rest of the survivors saw the ship shortly thereafter, right when they were getting ready to sit down for a meal. They did not know that the three from Rodger's Harbour had already been rescued, or that they were about to be reunited with Captain Bartlett

These photos are from when all the survivors, including Captain Bartlett, were reunited on the Bear and had a chance to clean up. By and large these people were not friends and were VERY tired of each other, but they were all smiles for the rescue photos (except Fred Maurer and Clam Williams in the group photo for some reason? So pensive...)

The Karluk set sail with a crew of 25. Only 14 of them came home, and they survived thanks to the selfless actions of Captain Bob Bartlett and Kataktovik, his often-overlooked Inuit companion on the journey to Siberia. Stefansson had written them off as dead, but thanks to Bartlett, 14 of them got another chance at life. Not all of them made wise choices going forward (FRED), but they made it home to their families, no thanks to Stef.

If you made it this far, thanks for reading about my boys!

All screenshots and quotes are from The Ice Master by Jennifer Niven, all photos are in the public domain and were accessed through the Library and Archives Canada online portal

[thepastisalreadywritten]

12 June 2024

Wreck hunters have found the ship on which the famous polar explorer Ernest Shackleton made his final voyage.

The vessel, called "Quest," has been located on the seafloor off the coast of Newfoundland, Canada.

Shackleton suffered a fatal heart attack on board on 5 January 1922 while trying to reach the Antarctic.

And although Quest continued in service until it sank in 1962, the earlier link with the explorer gives it great historic significance.

The British-Irish adventurer is celebrated for his exploits in Antarctica at a time when very few people had visited the frozen wilderness.

"His final voyage kind of ended that Heroic Age of Exploration, of polar exploration, certainly in the south," said renowned shipwreck hunter David Mearns, who directed the successful search operation.

"Afterwards, it was what you would call the scientific age. In the pantheon of polar ships, Quest is definitely an icon," he told BBC News.

The remains of the ship, a 38m-long schooner-rigged steamship, were discovered at the bottom of the Labrador Sea on Sunday by a team led by The Royal Canadian Geographical Society (RCGS).

Sonar equipment found it in 390m (1,280ft) of water. The wreck is sitting almost upright on a seafloor that has been scoured at some point in the past by the passing of icebergs.

The main mast is broken and hanging over the port side, but otherwise, the ship appears to be broadly intact.

Quest was being used by Norwegian sealers in its last days. Its sinking was caused by thick sea-ice, which pierced the hull and sent it to the deep.

The irony, of course, is this was the exact same damage inflicted on Shackleton's Endurance - the ship he used on his ill-fated Imperial Trans-Antarctic Expedition of 1914–1917.

Fortunately, the crews of both Endurance, in 1915, and Quest, in 1962, survived.

Indeed, many of the men who escaped the Endurance sinking signed up for Shackleton's last polar mission in 1921-1922, using Quest.

His original plan had been to explore the Arctic, north of Alaska, but when the Canadian government withdrew financial support, the expedition headed south in Quest to the Antarctic.

The new goal was to map Antarctic islands, collect specimens and look for places to install infrastructure, such as weather stations.

Shackleton never made it, however, struck down by heart failure in the Port of Grytviken on the British Overseas Territory of South Georgia, the last stop before reaching the White Continent. He was just 47 years old.

After his death, Quest was involved in other important expeditions, including the 1930-31 British Arctic Air Route Expedition led by British explorer Gino Watkins, who himself tragically died aged 25 while exploring Greenland.

Quest was also employed in Arctic rescues and served in the Royal Canadian Navy during WWII, before being turned over to the sealers.

The RCGS team members carried out extensive research to find Quest's last resting place.

Information was gathered from ship's logs, navigation records, photographs, and documents from the inquiry into her loss.

The calculated sinking location in the Labrador Sea was pretty much spot on, although the exact co-ordinates are being held back for the time being.

A second visit to the wreck, possibly later this year, will do a more complete investigation.

"Right now, we don't intend to touch the wreck. It actually lies in an already protected area for wildlife, so nobody should be touching it," associate search director Antoine Normandin said.

"But we do hope to go back and photograph it with a remotely operated vehicle, to really understand its state."

Alexandra Shackleton is the explorer's granddaughter and was patron to the RCGS survey.

"I was thrilled, really excited to hear the news; I have relief and happiness and a huge admiration for the members of the team," she told BBC News.

"For me, this represents the last discovery in the Shackleton story. It completes the circle."

The explorer continues to spark interest more than a century after his death.

Hundreds of people visit his grave on South Georgia every year to pay their respects to the man known by his crews simply as "The Boss."

"Shackleton will live forever as one of the greatest explorers of all time, not just because of what he achieved in exploration but for the way he did it, and the way he looked after his men," said David Mearns.

"His story is timeless and will be told again and again; and I'm just one of many disciples who'll keep telling it for as long as I can."

—

Sir Ernest Henry Shackleton CVO OBE FRGS FRSGS (15 February 1874 – 5 January 1922) was an Anglo-Irish Antarctic explorer who led three British expeditions to the Antarctic.

He was one of the principal figures of the period known as the Heroic Age of Antarctic Exploration.

[grimm-the-tiger]

I think it's telling about the nature of the actual events The Terror is based on that the Tuunbaq isn't even the most batshit thing going on in it.

[entwinedmoon]

40 years ago today, on August 10, 1984, a scientific team led by anthropologist Owen Beattie arrived on Beechey Island in the Canadian Arctic. They intended to exhume and autopsy the three members of the Franklin Expedition buried there. They spent that first day setting up temporary living quarters and exploring the area. In a little over a week, they would come face to face with the preserved remains of John Torrington…

[mammalianmammals]

You never know what you'll see from the deck of an icebreaker in the Arctic!

This polar bear recently greeted #WHOI researchers and their colleagues aboard the Canadian Coast Guard vessel Louis St-Laurent! ⁠ According to Ashley Arroyo, who's writing daily dispatches from the ship: "The polar bear seemed very chill and unbothered by our presence. The coast guard crew slowed the ship for 15 minutes while he was just walking around and jumping around the different ice floes. It also had some blood on its face, so it may have recently been snacking on a seal. It was incredible to see!" ⁠ ⁠For the past two decades, the Beaufort Gyre Observing System has taken detailed measurements in this crucial part of the Arctic Ocean. Follow the current expedition, funded by the National Science Foundation (NSF): go.whoi.edu/bgos-2024

via: Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution (WHOI)

[one-time-i-dreamt]

I was on an expedition to the Canadian arctic for some high school class. We were traveling by dogsled and sleeping in igloos and Brian David Gilbert was one of my classmates.

[victusinveritas]

Cans from Captain Sir John Franklin’s lost expedition (1845) still on the ground of Beechey Island in the Canadian Arctic. Stones were put inside the cans to prevent their dislocation by the wind.

The cans were welded with lead as canning food was a new invention. Unfortunately, they didn't realise the toxicity of lead at that time (or did and the cannery was cheap), therefore some of their bad decision making was due to poor brain function.

Some of it was due to being convinced that the Northwest Passage exists. Which, it does now, because of global climate change. But like Henry Hudson before him, Franklin learned that you can't get there from here the cold, hard way.

Anyway, here's Nathan Rogers (son of Stan) singing "Northwest Passage."

[equatorjournal]

Fête des baleines à Point Barrow Alaska, 1923. Photo by Leo Hansen (1888-1962). "The Nalukataq consists of the dancer maintaining the most graceful position when propelled into the air from a trampoline." "The catalog Inuit features early twentieth-century portraits from the archive of the writer-journalist Victor Forbin: half of the 350 photographs they had bought in 2019, on a whim, from Yves Bouger, a well-known gallery owner and bookseller based in Granville. They originally belonged to Victor Forbin (1864–1947), who thought himself an “adventurer,” and who assembled a personal iconography to illustrate his articles, translations, and books (his first novel, Les Fiancées du Soleil, came out in 1923).  When they were confronted with “this vanished world,” the Jacquiers had known nothing about the Arctic or about polar expeditions, such as the Canadian Arctic Expedition led by the ethnologist Vilhjalmur Stefansson (1879-1963), between 1913 and 1918, and the 5th Thule Expedition led by the Danish explorer Knud Rasmussen (1879–1933) between 1921 and 1925. Although they could see at once that, by their very subject, the photographs were of great value, and not just sentimental, they were yet to document their discovery. This they did during the first months of lockdown, consulting online libraries and Northern museums, moved by these portraits of the Inuit, and the “reciprocal gaze” exchanged between the photographed and the photographer. “It is true, we were touched by this gaze devoid of exoticism,” emphasized Philippe Jacquier, “by the presence of the Inuit, their power in the endless white landscapes. These photos are more than a century old, and yet they seem so close… Those who took them understood that photography is an indispensable tool.” https://www.instagram.com/p/Cp3NPKjth47/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[croziers-compass]

George Henry Hodgson of the HMS Terror A Historical Recount, collection, and documentation of Lt. Hodgson's Life

Birth Record

When George Henry Hodgson was born on January 25, 1817, in London, London, England, his father, Robert, was 43 and his mother, Mary, was 39. He had one sister. He died in 1848 at the age of 31.

 Henrietta Mildred Hodgson (only Sibling)

George Hodgson's Sister's Life and Death (Lefthand Side) A Portrait of Her here: ⚓

⚓ George Henry Hodgson was an English Royal Navy officer and polar explorer. He fought in the First Opium War (1839-1842) where he distinguished himself in combat. He later served under Captain Francis Crozier as Second Lieutenant aboard HMS Terror on the 1845 Franklin Expedition, which sought to chart unexplored areas of the Canadian Arctic, find the Northwest Passage, and carry out scientific observations.

Found in: A naval biographical dictionary: comprising the life and services of every living officer in Her Majesty's navy, from the rank of admiral of the fleet to that of lieutenant, inclusive. - O'Byrne, William R., 1823-1896

Previous Services Aboard the HMS Excellent

Muster Roll

George Henry Hodgson Lt. Record (links to my google drive)

Arctic Medal 1818-1855

All Officers and men of the Royal Navy and Royal Marines

Digital Memorial

I hope you have all enjoyed this lovely journey through records and materials relating to Lt. George Henry Hodgson. Admittedly there is very little substance here but I am more than happy with what I have procured. I hope it satisfies you as well.

[jesslovesboats]

In my ongoing quest to make all of you read about my pet expedition the Karluk, I have assembled this collection of relevant images and presented them without context. Intrigued? You should be! Pick up a copy of The Ice Master or Empire of Ice and Stone and learn the whole story! 😘

[thepastisalreadywritten]

[ltwilliammowett]

On January 11, 1914, the flagship of the Canadian Arctic Expedition, HMCS Karluk, a brigantine - ex whaler (shown here in 1913), was crushed by ice north of Siberia. January 1914 the ship was crushed and sunk. In the ensuing months, the crew and expedition staff struggled to survive, first on the ice and later on the shores of Wrangel Island. In all, eleven men died before rescue - 14 survived. 

[alex-the-bard]

new draft

Disclaimer: The following content is not suitable for small children. It contains topics such as violence, mutilation, self-harm, depression, and PTSD. As this is a work designed to evoke fear in the reader, I would also not recommend reading this before bed. By proceeding, you acknowledge that though this book may seem fine at first, it gets incredibly dark incredibly quickly. If you are struggling with suicidal thoughts, depression, or anxiety, help is available. Call 988. 

Chapter 1: 

Expedition 

The cold was biting as Garrick Heath trudged through the snow towards the door of the shelter, certainly colder than London. Why couldn’t they have done this when it was sunny and bright out? Well, he didn’t suppose it would get any better, considering they were in the Arctic Circle. He’d just have to live with it. 

He’d gotten the call two months ago. They offered him a job, working an ice drilling rig in the Artic. He had accepted. The pay was good enough and he was assured the bunker would be warm and the coffee strong. Now it was time, and he was here. He opened the door and a blast of warm air from the heated shelter enveloped him as it rushed out into the cold. He hurried inside and shut the door, no sense in letting the heat out. He looked around, seeing six other individuals sitting in a sunken seating area in the center of the large room playing cards. They greeted him as he entered, gesturing for him to sit down.   

“Well then, now that we’re all here, I suppose we’d best get started” said a man in hiking gear, his voice layered with a thick Swedish accent. He stood up, the fabric of his clothing rustling as he did. “I am Jonas Pourison, I’m the NOAA representative on this assignment. My job is to monitor the samples we take for anything significant.” He gestured to the woman to his right, wearing warm clothes and a beanie with a red cross on it. She sipped her coffee and said in a faint Texas drawl “The name’s Darcy, and I’m here to make sure none of y'all die.” Having spoken her piece, she returned to her coffee. The next to introduce themselves was an Australian man named Ivakov Hill-Gray, the technician on the team. When he spoke, it was with a dry, gravelly voice. Next came a geologist, Olivia Runnisdöttir, another Swede. “We’ve had some reports of volcanic activity in the region, and I’m coming along to check it out.” Ryan Kurchatov, a paleontologist spoke next, he said he was tagging along from Russia to investigate possible Neolithic ruins in the ice, which could completely rewrite the timeline of human habitation. Walter Heyman, a Canadian, was the team’s guide, here to make sure no threats of the Arctic claimed them. Lastly came Garrick, who spoke with a heavy British accent. “I’m Garrick Heath, and I’m here as the historian to complement our good friend Kurchatov here.” As he spoke, he gestured to Ryan, who nodded curtly. 

Once the introductions were done, Jonas spoke again. “Now that we all know eachother, the helicopter’s waiting. Let’s go.” They all sighed, finished their drinks, and trudged out of the shelter to the waiting helicopter. They took off without incident, and no words were spoken during the flight. Indeed, no one could hear each other over the sound of the aircraft. When Jonas finally landed the helicopter an hour later, they were all too happy to stand up again. They entered the bunker, where they would be living for the year, glancing around at the welcoming decor and furniture. Darcy spoke first: “Y’know, as far as subzero shitholes go, this is top notch” she said as she plopped her bags onto the ground. The group nodded in agreement. Walter found a bottle of wine in storage, and poured drinks for the team. As they plopped onto the couches, Olivia asked a question: “So, do any of you have families?”  

“Yes, actually” Ryan replied, “a wife and two lovely daughters.”   

Walter set the bottle down and dug into his pockets, searching for his wallet. He eventually found it and he took three photos of it. He also pulled a body camera from his bag and clipped it to his collar. As he unfolded the pictures, he said “I hope you don’t mind me recording, our patrons want records of our stay out here.”  

Garrick arched an eyebrow at Walter. “And who exactly is financing this operation? This level of equipment certainly can’t be cheap.” 

While Garrick was talking, Walter had started passing around the photos from his wallet. They were of his family. His husband and their dog. One photo showed them on the bow of a cruise ship, smiling and laughing. Another was of the dog, Niki, staring at a Christmas tree in wonder. The last picture showed Walter saying goodbye at the airport before leaving for Sweden.  

Walter cleared his throat before answering Garrick. “We are being funded by several different agencies, but this rig belongs to Permafrost Group. This is one of twenty-seven they have across the world. Most of them are at the poles.” Garrick nodded, satisfied with the answer.  

The time passed quickly after that, with the team swapping stories and sharing drinks and good-hearted laughter. Jonas told them a story about the time he was stood on a sinking research vessel. The engine had exploded, and the hole in the boat's keel was filled with rushing water. Just as they were about to be pulled under by the currents, a group of fishermen spotted them and pulled them out of the water. He made it sound as if it were just another day in the life, and not an extremely perilous situation. 

After a night of revelry, they all retired to their bunks. After some tossing and turning, the seven of them drifted off to sleep, comforted by the soft humming of the bunker’s generators 

++7 HOURS LATER++ 

Ryan awoke to a pounding at the door, the dull clang of metal reverberating through the concrete and rebar of the bunker. He stood up, putting on his jacket and boots before wearily staggering to the door. He slid the shutter aside, looking out through the bulletproof glass that covered the peephole. He saw a man in a tattered ski jacket collapsed in front of the door. Ryan hurriedly unlocked and threw open the door, and saw the man was completely drenched in blood, the red liquid seeping into the snow around him. “Shit” Ryan hissed, before shouting back into the bunker, saying: “Darcy, Jonas, come quickly!” He started dragging the man inside, and shut the door. Darcy and Jonas rounded the corner, grumbling. Their objections ceased when they saw the reason Ryan had called them. 

Jonas rushed to help Ryan carry the man to the infirmary, while Darcy muttered a few Southern expletives and grabbed her first aid kit. Jonas and Ryan set the man down on a cot in the infirmary, and Darcy cut his jacket off, much to the objection of Jonas. “It’s fucking cold in here, he’s gonna need that later!” Darcy started wiping the blood from the man, replying through gritted teeth “There ain’t gonna be a later if he’s dead!” 

The man’s injuries were brutal. A large section of his torso was slashed, with scraps of broken skin dangling limply from his mutilated chest cavity. His right arm was bent all the way in the wrong direction at the elbow, with a bone protruding from his wrist. His face was a horror show of shredded skin and muscle, his eyes were clouded, milky white orbs in a pit of red.  

Darcy finished cleaning his wounds, sighing heavily as she readied bandages. “He’s lost a lot of blood, but somehow he hasn’t lost anything important.” 

The man’s chest was wrapped, his arm splinted, and his face bandaged, but every bandage they put on was quickly soaked with blood. The rest of the team had been awoken by the commotion, and they staggered groggily into the infirmary. Olivia and Walter both had mugs of hot coffee. Ivakov was furious, storming into the room. “What the hell were you three doing out here!? I thought there was a goddamn-” He paused when he saw the injured man. “Oh fuck.” 

The man started awake, screaming “No! No don’t take them! Don’t take them!” He winced as he sat up, looking around the infirmary, and then to his own injured chest. “Where- where am I?” 

“It’s okay, you’re safe. You were in a pretty bad shape when we found you.” Darcy answered, trying to calm the man. “What’s your name?” 

“Isacc. Isacc West.” The man replied, his hands shaking. Darcy turned to whisper to the team. “At least he remembers his name, eh?” She then turned back to Isacc. “What happened to you?” 

“I was with a tour group, we were up here to see the Northern Lights. We were on our way back to our camp when something attacked us. Long, sharp fingers. And blood. Oh God, so much blood...” He shuddered as he spoke, as if reliving the horrors he had experienced. “I ran, but one of those fucking things caught me, tackled me. It did this to me.” He gestured vaguely at his injuries. He whispered one final sentence. “I don’t think anyone else made it out.” 

In the bathroom, the group heard Olivia vomit. 

“Well then” Darcy remarked, “since I suppose we ain’t gettin’ any sleep now, might as well start the work.” The rest of the team murmured agreements and went to get ready for the day. Madman or not, they had a job to do. 

Chapter 2: 

An Ordinary Day 

The team shuffled into the rig, ready for the day and running on caffeine, adrenaline, and seven hours of sleep. Isacc was still in the infirmary, as he was in no condition to move. As the first core came up, Jonas stepped over to examine it. Ivakov played Sudoku with Ryan on the upper level of the rig deck. All was well. 

“Thirty-one!” Garrick exclaimed as he slammed his cards to the table. “Read em’ and weep.” Olivia and Darcy groaned. “That’s the third time in a row,” Darcy grumbled, “let’s just play poker.” 

“The problem there is I’m the one who brought the cards and I know absolutely fuck all about poker.” Garrick chuckled. Darcy mumbled something in angry Texan under her breath. 

Walter poked his head through the door, carrying several cups. “I brought coffee!” he said in a singsong voice. He placed the cups on the mess table, grabbed one for himself, and sat down on a bench on the lower deck next to Jonas. Walter leaned over quizzically, sipping the coffee and placing one next to the focused Jonas. 

“Find anything yet?” Walter asked, taking another sip. Jonas sighed. “No, not yet. Just ice, ice, and more goddamn ice.” Walter arched an eyebrow. “Isn’t that a good thing?” 

“Yes, but I thought I- Well I don’t know what I thought.” Jonas grunted the words from his mouth, as he hauled the next core onto the table. “Wait... Is that...? Ryan, Garrick, get over here!” The two men startled at their names and shuffled over. “What is it?” Garrick asked.  

Jonas pointed to an anomaly in the ice. A long, off-white splinter, about as long as a thumb, was embedded in the frosty substance. “Is that what I think it is?” He asked. Ryan leaned closer, inspecting the object. “I’d have to cut it out to get a closer look and know for sure, but at least from here it does look like bone.”  

Garrick leaned closer, trying to get a good view of the object. “There’s some equipment in the bunker, I could date this.” Jonas nodded, sipping his coffee. “Please do.”  

Garrick chipped a sample from the ice, cradling it as he trotted off towards the lab. Jonas turned to Ryan. “Do you want to take over?” Ryan shrugged. “Sure, go rest your arms.” Jonas nodded and went to sit with Ivakov, who had finished his Sudoku and was doing a crossword. He glanced up as Jonas sat down. “Seven letter word, a distilled spirit originating from Scandinavia.” Jonas chuckled. “That’s easy, Akvavit. It’s kinda like shitty, cheap tequila. I think we’ve got some in storage.” Ivakov grunted his thanks, scribbling the word down. Jonas shifted to face Ivakov. “So, what’s your story?” Ivakov set down his pencil and leaned back in his seat. “Well, my mother was a park ranger, and my pa was an accountant. They’re both retired now. I’ve hopped around from job to job for the past few years after the mines ran dry and they didn’t need me to fix the drills anymore. Turns out a degree in electrical engineering doesn’t do you much good as a tour guide. I got the call for this job a few months ago, and I thought I couldn’t get any more broke. I signed a contract, so the only way I’m not getting paid is if I die. And what are the odds of that happening, eh?” Jonas shrugged. “I suppose you could always fall off the rig. But you aren’t that stupid.” 

Garrick came back into the rig deck, carrying his laptop. “Alright, it was a bit of a pain, but I got the date for that bone. 523 BCE.” Ryan choked and spit out his coffee, the precious liquid becoming a fine mist. “I’m sorry, did you just say 523 BCE!?” Garrick nodded. Ryan stormed over, grabbing the laptop. “Let me see that.” His eyes panned over the screen, widening with amazement. “I’ll be damned.” 

Walter looked over at Ryan. “Everything okay?” Ryan whirled to face Walter. “Okay!? No I’m not okay! This is scientific proof that humans inhabited the Arctic more than four hundred years before the Roman Empire was founded! This could make my entire career!”  

Walter chuckled. “Alright, calm down. I just thought something was wrong. I’m glad I was wrong.” 

The core drill had stopped, the motor overheating from the continuous operation. Ivakov glanced over at the halted machine. “Drill’s stopped” he remarked, “it’s gonna take a while to cool off. Break?” The rest of the group nodded.  

The crew shuffled into the bunker, settling into the common room. Garrick sighed. “Since Darcy gets pissy every time I win at thirty-one, how about a movie?” Walter perked up at the mention of something to do other than play cards. “Yes, please.” Garrick flipped open his laptop, opening his library. “Let’s see... We have the Lord of the Rings trilogy, the Incredibles, The Thing-” Olivia interrupted him. “The Thing, yes, that one!” Garrick shrugged. “Alright then!” He put the movie on as Jonas came back with a massive bucket of popcorn.  

The festivities were interrupted by screaming from the infirmary, followed by shattering glass and the sound of tearing meat. The team startled at the noise, rushing to the infirmary, only to see a gruesome scene. Torn scraps of flesh littered the room, which was splattered with blood. One of the windows was shattered, allowing the storm outside to whip into the bunker. Isacc was missing, along with the spare bandages. The rig crew rushed to suit up to give chase to the screaming of Isacc. Walter grabbed his shotgun, Darcy grabbed the medical bag, Garrick retrieved his camcorder, and Jonas hefted his hunting rifle. Walter glanced back at the rest of the team. ”After we leave, shut and lock the door. Only let us in when we say ”Canada is just a bunch of ice.” Got it?” Olivia nodded. ”Good. Let’s go.” Walter grunted, hurrying out the door, which was slammed behind them. 

Garrick yelled out to Walter, his voice shaking with fear. ”Walter, remind me again why we’re going out in fucking fifteen below to look for someone who’s probably already dead!” Walter replied through gritted teeth. ”Because “probably” doesn’t equal "is”, Heath.” Garrick grumbled assent, before shouting his response. ”Just because you’re right doesn’t mean I agree with you!” Walter just chuckled. 

The wind from the storm whipped at the group as they reached the helicopter, still where they had left it. Isacc’s trail of blood went off into the void of impenetrable white as Walter stopped them at the aircraft. ”Fuck!” he hissed. “Someone trashed the damn helicopter!” Jonas hurried over, recoiling from the stench of motor oil and smoke, still detectable even in the storm. “One problem at a time Walter!” The group carried on, into the storm. 

After trudging through knee-deep snow for several minutes, the trail of crimson they had been following through the snow went down into a cave in the ice. Walter shook his head. ”We’ll need the proper gear to go down there! We’ll come back tomorrow!” Darcy agreed, very openly. ”Let’s get back to the bunker. It’s colder than a northern night up here!” With that, the small group that had gone searching for Isacc began the trek back to the bunker, shaken by what they had seen. 

@shrimpysstuff @eternal-nyxx

[digitalnewberry]

Arctic exploration

Arctic toy theater set, between 1881 and 1889

This time of year, my mind turns to the holidays the 1800s European and American expeditions to the Arctic. The icy landscape captivated the imagination of many artists and explorers, including the creator of this Arctic toy set. It possibly depicts the Lady Franklin Bay Expedition (1881-1884) into the Canadian Arctic led by Adolphus Greely, and features icebergs, ships, animals, and people, some of whom are in native Inuit dress.

Penguins, Arctic toy theater set

For a more grounded artistic rendition of the area and its people, you can peruse the 1820s drawings made by members of expeditions led by Sir William Edward Parry and Sir John Ross.

Arctic Life Portfolio, 1821-1828

And of course, there are the numerous letters and journals written by the people on these journeys. This 1876 diary from Lieutenant Rawson includes the memorable line "If any one had told me during the cold weather that I should be kept awake, out sledging, from being too warm, I should have told him he did strictly adhere to that sacred article called truth."

–Quinn Sluzenski, Digital Initiatives Assistant

See all of these and more at Newberry Digital Collections

[scotianostra]

The surgeon and explorer John Rae was born on 30th September 1813 at the Hall o'Clestrain in Orphir on Orkney Islands.

Orkneyjar, a great site I use for sourcing information on the islands states that “John Rae is undoubtedly one of Orkney’s greatest unsung heroes.” and who am I to argue, they also point out that although his memorial is prominent in St Magnus Cathedral, few Orcadians, and indeed Scots in general, have heard of him.

John Rae was the son of John, factor on Sir William Honeyman's estate, and his wife Margaret (Glen). His father was appointed Orkney agent for the Hudson's Bay Company.

After qualifying in Edinburgh as a surgeon young John served on a Hudson's Bay vessel travelling to Canada. Ice forced him to stay over winter there and he loved the area and the wild type of life so much he remained as surgeon at the Moose Factory post on Hudson Bay.

He studied the ways of the local Cree Indians, gathering knowledge and skills from them. The Inuit called him "Aglooka" as he was the best snowshoe walker of his time. In 1849 he took over the Mackenzie river district at Fort Simpson and charted unknown territories on the north Canadian coast. He succeeded in proving the existence of a North West passage (a navigable route across the Arctic from the Atlantic to the Pacific) and searched for the lost Franklin expedition, who were also searching for the passage. Information from the Inuit given to Rae showed that Franklin's men had all perished and the bodies showed signs of cannibalism.

Of course his report made him very unpopular, author Charles Dickens published articles rejecting Rae’s conclusions and the manner in which he had reached them. According to Dickens, it was unthinkable that the English Navy "would or could in any extremity of hunger, alleviate that pains of starvation by this horrible means". The Englishman wrongly pointed the finger at the Inuit, whom he viewed very negatively, as evidenced by his writings, are more likely to have killed the expedition's survivors.

Due to the backlash from London Rae’s achievements were largely ignored for some time.

He retired in 1856 but continued exploration and work for telegraph companies to find routes through Greenland, Alaska and British Columbia. In 1860 he married Catherine Thompson. He died in London on 22nd July 1893 and his body was taken by steamer to Kirkwall for burial.

I revert you back to the OrkneyJar website for a much bigger picture of the life of John Rae http://www.orkneyjar.com/history/historicalfigures/johnrae/

Another dedicated site for the Orkneys also has a full account, concentrating mainly on his search for the Franklin mission, with more pictorial content https://www.orkneyology.com/john-rae.html

[grimm-the-tiger]

Dumb shipwreck facts because I need to hyperfixate for a moment: 

The only Olympic-class (Britannic, Titanic, and Olympic) ship that was actually unsinkable was the Olympic. Olympic took full advantage of this and became the only merchant vessel in WWI on record to sink an enemy vessel (it didn’t discriminate, either; Olympic actually sank two vessels during its service, one of which was a friendly lightship during peacetime). 

It took 150 years to discover what happened to the infamous Lost Franklin Expedition because the English were too racist to ask the natives. The Canadians, meanwhile, found the wreck of one of their ships, HMS Terror, in a fraction of the time by asking an Inuit hunter named Sammy Kogvik for help. 

There are at least two wrecks in Lake Erie that we may never find because the lakebed quite literally swallowed them. 

On a related note, Lake Erie might have the highest concentration of shipwrecks of any body of water in the world. 

Lake Superior is actually the least lethal Great Lake, despite its reputation, but over half of its wrecks are located around Whitefish Point, most notably the Edmund Fitzgerald. 

The Bermuda Triangle doesn’t actually have a very high disappearance or wreck rate. It’s considered weird because the gulf stream carries any wrecks and debris out of the search area, making it that much harder to find any remains. 

There’s a disturbing tendency for ships, particularly freighters, to not only split in half while they sink, but for the back half (the stern) to keep going, sometimes for miles. The most notable case of this would be the SS Pendleton, an oil freighter that wrecked off the coast of Massachusetts; the rescue of the crew on its stern is considered to be one of the most daring Coast Guard rescues ever pulled off. 

Most ships built before 1950 were made with subprime or low-grade metal, which is believed to be part of the reason why they split in half so often. This metal turned brittle in colder water; guess where most of these wrecks were. Some wrecks believed to have fallen victim to this include the Titanic, the aforementioned Pendleton, the Carl D. Bradley, and the Daniel J. Morrell. 

An Arctic cruise ship took on a Venezuelan patrol boat and won. Said patrol boat was trying to force the cruise ship, the Resolute, to come ashore. Ships create depressions in the water (you most often see this in the “wake”) called displacement, and it’s generally believed the patrol boat underestimated the strength of the Resolute’s displacement and was sucked into its path, ending up crushed by Resolute’s icebreaker-grade hull. 

While we can be reasonably certain what sank the Marquette & Bessemer No. 2 (it was a train ferry with an open back and had previously had a near-accident when a wave slammed directly into the opening, almost flooding it), what we don’t know is what happened before and after. One of its lifeboats was found with nine bodies and the clothing of a tenth. The ship’s steward was found armed with two knives and a meat cleaver, and the captain’s body was found some time later with slash wounds. It’s agreed that the steward killed him, but why remains a mystery. 

Moby Dick was based on the sinking of the Essex, a whaling ship that was rammed and sunk by its own prey. The crew resorted to cannibalism to survive; ironically, they would’ve been rescued sooner had they not avoided a nearby island chain for fear of cannibal tribes. 

Don’t read about the sinking of the Estonia. Just...don’t. It’s not pleasant. For some hint of how awful it was, despite being reasonably close to the surface no one was ever able to get all the bodies out because of the sheer number of them. 

On a much lighter note, the Swedish Navy in the 1700s poured thousands of kroner into building a mighty flagship for their navy, the Vasa...only for the Vasa to sink less than 300 yards into its maiden voyage. Turns out they gave it too many guns, making it too top-heavy, and it capsized. 

The Canadian freighter Bannockburn disappeared in a storm in 1902. Almost all of its crew were in their late teens and early 20s; the youngest was 16. Companies would hire younger, less experienced men to work aboard their ships because they were cheaper. The Bannockburn has never been found. 

Speaking of Lake Superior shipwrecks, there’s a saying that “Lake Superior never gives up her dead”. It’s not wrong; the temperatures at the bottom are cold enough to halt the decaying process, which prevents the bodies from rising to the surface. The most notable instance of this is Old Whitey, the nickname for a body found in the engine room of the Kamloops who has never been identified. This is also the reason no one is allowed to dive to the Edmund Fitzgerald; the crew’s bodies are still aboard the wreck, and it’s considered disrespectful at best to dive to a place that for all intents and purposes is a graveyard. 

It took over 100 years and numerous deaths from scurvy for anyone to realize that eating raw meat can prevent it. They discovered this on a Belgian arctic expedition where one of the crewmen, drawing on past experience, somehow managed to convince the rest of the crew to eat raw penguin, rapidly decreasing the number and severity of scurvy cases onboard. 

To end this on a lighter note, the saying “Batten down the hatches” is an actual maritime phrase; hatches are openings in the ship’s deck used to bring cargo inside and, on older ships, allow passengers and crew on deck. Hatches let enormous amounts of water into the ship in bad weather, and are often “battened down” (covered up) to prevent water from getting in. It will probably not surprise you to learn that not battening down the hatches or not doing it properly has caused its fair share of wrecks; notably, it’s believed that the Cyprus, an ore carrier that was said to be leaving a red trail in its wake the day before it capsized, was leaving said trail because its hatches were improperly sealed; water was getting into the hold, mixing with the cargo of iron ore, and then being pumped out, hence the red wake.