So earlier today as I was noting the melting snow here in VA on my morning dog walk, my mind wandered back to memories of sledding, and then, to what was probably the greatest sled ride in human history (and yet probably not even the greatest leg of the most extraordinary trip in human history). I give you, Shackleton, Worsley, and Crean in South Georgia:
At the end of the first day, the trio had ascended 3,000ft and could see Possession Bay to the north. They realised they needed to get to the bottom of the valley before nightfall, which brought devilish fog and rapidly dropping temperatures, spelling certain death. They attempted to cut steps into the ice to make their way down, but Shackleton quickly determined that this was hopeless. He then suggested the unthinkable – they would step off the precipice in front of them and slide down.
They could see very little and the slope could have easily led to a sheer drop of thousands of feet but they were out of options. The three men coiled up their pieces of rope into three ‘pads’, Shackleton sat in front, Worsley straddled his legs around Shackleton, and Crean sat behind Worsley doing the same. Without pausing, they launched themselves into the unknown below. In Worsley’s own words:
“We seemed to shoot into space. For a moment my hair stood on end. Then quite suddenly I felt a glow and knew that I was grinning. I was actually enjoying it. It was most exhilarating. We were shooting down the side of an almost precipitous mountain at nearly a mile a minute. I yelled with excitement and found that Shackleton and Crean were yelling too. It seemed ridiculously safe. To hell with the rocks!”
The slope began to level out and their speed slowed to a stop. Worsley estimated they had travelled approximately 3,000ft down the slope in about three minutes. The men shook hands, and Shackleton wryly commented, “It’s not good to do that kind of thing too often.”
At the end of the first day, the trio had ascended 3,000ft and could see Possession Bay to the north. They realised they needed to get to the bottom of the valley before nightfall, which brought devilish fog and rapidly dropping temperatures, spelling certain death. They attempted to cut steps into the ice to make their way down, but Shackleton quickly determined that this was hopeless. He then suggested the unthinkable – they would step off the precipice in front of them and slide down.
They could see very little and the slope could have easily led to a sheer drop of thousands of feet but they were out of options. The three men coiled up their pieces of rope into three ‘pads’, Shackleton sat in front, Worsley straddled his legs around Shackleton, and Crean sat behind Worsley doing the same. Without pausing, they launched themselves into the unknown below. In Worsley’s own words:
“We seemed to shoot into space. For a moment my hair stood on end. Then quite suddenly I felt a glow and knew that I was grinning. I was actually enjoying it. It was most exhilarating. We were shooting down the side of an almost precipitous mountain at nearly a mile a minute. I yelled with excitement and found that Shackleton and Crean were yelling too. It seemed ridiculously safe. To hell with the rocks!”
The slope began to level out and their speed slowed to a stop. Worsley estimated they had travelled approximately 3,000ft down the slope in about three minutes. The men shook hands, and Shackleton wryly commented, “It’s not good to do that kind of thing too often.”
