Taissumani, Dec. 16
How Inuit Knowledge Got Amundsen to the Pole – Part 2
Roald Amundsen: His accomplishments are Inuit accomplishments also.
Roald Amundsen planned everything about his expedition meticulously. He used the clothing that he had adopted years earlier while living among the Netsilingmiut in Gjoa Haven. Kamiks of sealskin were his footwear. He and his men wore parkas of caribou and seal skin, and hats and gloves of the same material. He relied also on the skill he had developed in skiing in Norway from childhood.
His sleds were manufactured in Norway but according to his specifications. When he took possession of them, he realized that the lashings that bound the crosspieces to the runners were inferior — they were not up to Inuit standards — and he had them repaired on the ship.
He took with him four sleds and 52 dogs. During his trip there was a progressive reduction in the number of dogs.
This was as Amundsen had planned, for as the weakest dogs became weaker, they became dinner for both the expedition members and the other dogs. Nonetheless, on his return from the pole, 39 of his sled dogs were still alive and he had not lost a man.
Robert Scott, on the contrary, used British methods. He had never been to the Arctic, had never met Inuit, and had never garnered an appreciation of the role of dogs in polar transportation.
He was convinced that the use of new technology would win him the pole, and so he brought with him motorized sleds. Predictably, they broke down.
He also brought with him a number of Manchurian ponies, convinced that they were superior to dogs. For some inexplicable reason, he used only white ponies — he thought they were stronger.
But they weren’t strong enough. Moreover, their hard hooves cut through the crust on the snow, and they fell clumsily into crevasses, from which they were much heavier to lift out than dogs.
He was blind to the fact that carrying all the food that the ponies required was inefficient — dogs, after all, could live on the meat of penguins and seals, available in Antarctica. He did, in fact, take a few dogs — Nansen had convinced him to do so — but he never understood how to use them properly.
Scott epitomized what writer Caroline Alexander described as “the whole maddening, incomprehensible, self-defeating phenomenon of English determined amateurism.” He once observed, “Gentlemen don’t practice.”
Amundsen reached the South Pole on December 14. Biographer Roland Huntford evoked the scene captured in a photograph that day: “The Eskimo-like figures of four Norwegians stand in their Netsilik pattern of anorak under the Norwegian flag streaming in the breeze… The Stone-Age lore of the Eskimo had brought the Norwegians safely and comfortably to their goal.”
Amundsen attributed his success to “the way in which the expedition is equipped — the way in which every difficulty is foreseen, and precautions taken for meeting or avoiding it.” He went on, “Victory awaits him who has everything in order — luck, people call it. Defeat is certain for him who has neglected to take the necessary precautions in time; this is called bad luck.”
Scott certainly had bad luck.
Amundsen knew that Scott was probably en route to the Pole – unlike Amundsen’s departure, Scott’s had been well publicised – and he left a note for him in a tent at the ultimate destination. “Dear Captain Scott,” it read, “As you probably are the first to reach this area after us, I will ask you to kindly forward this letter to King Haakon VII. If you can use any of the articles left in the tent please do not hesitate to do so. The sledge left outside may be of use to you. With kind regards I wish you a safe return.”
Scott arrived at the South Pole on Jan. 17, 1912. He saw the Norwegian flag flying over the spot even before he reached it, and knew that he had been bested. “Great God! This is an awful place,” he wrote. “And terrible enough for us to have laboured to it without the reward of priority.”
Scott did not have the safe return that Amundsen had wished him. He and the four men of his party died lingering, painful deaths of starvation, exposure and exhaustion, perishing only 11 miles from a cache of food that could have saved their lives. When Amundsen learned of Scott’s death, he said that he “would gladly forego any honour or any amount of money if thereby I could have saved Captain Scott from his terrible death.”
Amundsen had spent three winters in the Arctic, two of them at Gjoa Haven. He had come to know the Inuit well — they taught him how to build snow houses and to drive a dog team, to hunt for seal and caribou, to create implements from bone. He learned from them what clothes to wear.
In a recent article in “Canada’s History,” author George Tombs quotes Amundsen’s great-great-grandson, Damien Iquallaq – for Amundsen got close enough to the Inuit to leave behind a child – as saying, “They [the Inuit] taught him how to survive on the land. They taught him how to use traditional items. The knowledge the Inuit gave him is what made him so ready for the environment. All that knowledge gave him the skills and abilities to survive. And I believe that’s why he did so well in the Arctic environment, just from the knowledge he learned while staying at Gjoa Haven.”
Amundsen’s triumph is the triumph of the Inuit. The knowledge he acquired during two years among the Netsilingmiut was the knowledge that took him to the South Pole without losing a man.
Inuit should be proud of Amundsen’s accomplishment. It is also theirs.
Taissumani recounts a specific event of historic interest. Kenn Harper is a historian, writer and linguist who lives in Iqaluit. Feedback? Send your comments and questions to .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address).
