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Scott's Last Expedition: The Journals

Robert Falcon Scott

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Jan 21, 2013 El rated it really liked it · review of another edition

Shelves: put-it-in-your-journal, 20th-centurylit-early, wanderlust

When I started reading this book at the end of January, it was cold out. I'd stand outside waiting for my bus in the morning, shifting from one foot to another, hoping to see the bus turn the corner down the street. I tend to read while I wait because it takes my mind off of things like obsessing over how many minutes late the bus is, or will it be one of the really long bendy-kinds or one of the shorter, older buses (in which case the heat might not work), or could I run back to my place to gra When I started reading this book at the end of January, it was cold out. I'd stand outside waiting for my bus in the morning, shifting from one foot to another, hoping to see the bus turn the corner down the street. I tend to read while I wait because it takes my mind off of things like obsessing over how many minutes late the bus is, or will it be one of the really long bendy-kinds or one of the shorter, older buses (in which case the heat might not work), or could I run back to my place to grab my Carmex without missing the bus. This is one of the books I read routinely during those waits, and it helped me find perspective.

Scott's journals were written during the fateful expedition to Antarctica in 1910-1912. He wrote extensively about their purpose in the region, what they hoped to accomplish, what they found, the animals in the region, the geography, the climate... and that's when I realized that I'm a fucking pansy. Standing out there waiting for my bus sometimes up to ten minutes, pouting to myself about how cold it is. And I even like the cold. I thrive in the winter. I wilt in the summer, but the winter is mine. I own that bitch.

But, yes, sometimes I even whine about the cold.

The expedition spent a considerable amount of time in the Antarctic, living in often 40-below-0 conditions. That's freaking cold. The 10 degrees that I was experiencing in the morning? Pshaw! That's nothing. These guys felt some real cold. I was ashamed of myself.

Even knowing the outcome of the expedition, I couldn't help cheering them on throughout. I wanted all of the sledge dogs and the ponies to be okay, though, again, knowing the outcome led me to believe that the animals were not going to be okay and that made me cry a bit inside because animals don't deserve that shit. They didn't get to sign up for those conditions. They'd get a biscuit a day for the work they did, not that the men got much more than that themselves at times, but still.

I was pleasantly surprised at the way Scott wrote about the animals. In the beginning there were some sicknesses and some accidents, and Scott treated them as equals, showing concern for their well-being, making sure that despite where they were they had the best possible circumstances. I'm not sure why this was surprising to me - maybe because I figured that men in an expedition of this nature (conquest!) wouldn't care about the little people along the way, or the little animals. But Scott seemingly did care. And that was touching.

He also cared about each of the men in his expedition, though I wonder if that's to be expected considering how they lived, what they lived through, that whole "live together, die alone" thing that Jack preached about in LOST. At the end of the journal are pages of letters Scott wrote to various wives or family members of some of his men, letting them know that they were on so-and-so's mind as the end came. He took time to do that, which I also find touching. It's almost -45 degrees out, and here's this guy, the leader of his expedition, writing thoughtful letters home, knowing that he would never see his own family, yet putting them before himself.

This isn't a quick read by any stretch of the imagination. There are appendices out the ass here, lists of animals names and which school donated them, there are letters, some photographs, a couple Indexes, Explanatory Note after Explanatory Note, and on and on and on. I didn't think it would ever end. But I trucked along because these men weren't able to end their expedition, and the least I could do is sit on poorly heated buses and read Scott's words so as to keep that memory alive.

This shit is real, yo. ...more

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