Monthly Archives: March 2016

Hoarded toothpaste

Posted on March 31, 2016 by Ernest Shackleton

“Macklin got out his last, hoarded, tube of toothpaste.” — Roland Huntford “…and what a pleasant thing it was to have a fresh feeling in one’s mouth again. Before this I have been using galley-soot and snow, and this does … Continue reading →

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Fancy that ridiculous Shackleton & his South Pole

Posted on March 28, 2016 by Ernest Shackleton

“Fancy that ridiculous Shackleton & his South Pole — in the crash of the world. “When all the sick & wounded have been tended, when all their impoverished & broken hearted homes have been restored, when every hospital is gorged … Continue reading →

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Message from the Aurora

Posted on March 24, 2016 by Ernest Shackleton

24 March 1916: Wireless message from the Aurora, Shackleton’s Ross Sea ship, received in Australia: “Hull severely strained. Ship released from ice March 14th … drift 500 miles … Wireless appeals for relief ship sent during winter no acknowledgment. Ship … Continue reading →

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We implore him not to get thin

Posted on March 12, 2016 by Ernest Shackleton

“Greenstreet and I amuse ourselves at Marston’s expense. Marston is the plumpest man in the Camp and we become very solicitous about his welfare and condition, making a great show of generosity by offering him old penguin bones that we … Continue reading →

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Dreams

Posted on March 7, 2016 by Ernest Shackleton

“…dreamed that the Daily Mail had the heading about us, ‘Compulsory Trans Antarctic Expedition.’” — Frank Worsley “I tried to drown multicoloured hounds of the Dachsund (German sausage) breed. My endeavours were not fraught with great success, for the Dachsunds … Continue reading →

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Monotony

Posted on March 5, 2016 by Ernest Shackleton

“Day passes day with very little or nothing to relieve the monotony. We take constitutionals round and round the floe but no one can go further as we are to all intents and purposes on an island. There is practically … Continue reading →

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Wax poetical.

Posted on March 1, 2016 by Ernest Shackleton

Hurley: “Wax poetical. Magnificent night and morning with crystal-clear atmosphere. The moon almost on the horizon resembled the golden horn of fairy tales pending in a lustrous formament bespangled with brilliants. One’s imagination running riot might conjecture a blast sounded … Continue reading →

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