by Michael Gill
I’m heading for the Pole … Although Bunny is so very much delayed he definitely could make it up if he only makes the effort but his mental processes are a bit beyond me …
I think you’re right when you say I’m ambitious – I’m damned keen to get to the Pole anyway and honestly can’t see the slightest difficulty in doing so apart from continuous bad weather for flying or major breakdowns in several vehicles. I still think that apart from anything else it will be damn good for NZ prestige for us to get to the Pole and I intend to have a go anyway. I still have a feeling that Bunny and London may not be too favourable but I doubt if I’ll take too much notice of that … Well, sweetheart, all my love and thank goodness December is here and time is passing…11
On 6 December, a fortnight after he had sent his gung-ho message to the RSC about going to the Pole, Ed received a dampening message from Bowden:
Overriding consideration is that nothing should be done that involves any risk … Depot 700 must not be left unmanned … In view of many uncertainties … the Ross Sea Committee cannot agree with your proposals … We must await … Fuchs’ arrival at South Ice after which his future movements might be more clearly indicated. Bowden.12
Ed ‘stamped around outside … in something of a turmoil’,13 but there was nothing to be done apart from setting off for D700, a journey that took 10 days.
Miller and Marsh were ahead of them searching out the best route, but only 10 miles short of D700 the tractors had their worst encounter yet with a crevasse. Hillary and Mulgrew were ahead, probing their way through a more than usually maze-like area of crevasses, when they saw the rear of Jim Bates’s tractor sink backwards through a snow bridge. For a moment it looked as though the whole tractor and its driver would disappear, but the vehicle came to rest more than half-buried with its front end pointing skywards. Ed rushed over and called out, ‘How are you, Jim? Are you all right?’ to which Jim replied after a pause, ‘Yes, but I don’t like the view!’14
There was a strong chance that the immobilised tractor would not be recoverable – and this would put paid to their trip to the Pole more effectively than the wavering directives from the RSC. Even Ed would have accepted that two tractors had too small a safety margin to attempt a 550-mile trip to the South Pole. They dug deeply to create a ramp in front of the disappearing tractor. Then with tow-ropes in place they gave full throttle to the other two tractors, and breathed again as they dragged the threatened vehicle out of the crevasse and on to the flat snow above.
On 15 December they reached the site of D700, the last depot before the Pole, and the Beaver began flying in its loads. Two days later, Ed received a telegram from Bowden:
Please accept heartiest congratulations from Committee and myself on reaching D700 in such good time … In considering your future programme, you should know that the Committee recently agreed that if Fuchs or London Committee requested you should carry on toward Pole the Committee would raise no objection provided this could be done within existing resources … you should now make every endeavour to discuss your next steps as fully as you can with Dr Fuchs personally … You should then be able to make a joint recommendation to Committee and to London.15
Bowden was probably aware that this suggestion had built into it the delays imposed by Fuchs’s dislike of communicating with the outside world, including with The Times which, in theory at least, had bought exclusive rights to the expedition. The enterprising correspondent for the Daily Mail, Noel Barber, who had hitch-hiked a flight to the American polar station, was often able to glean ‘information of a later nature than any that appeared in The Times for which the doctor [Fuchs] was writing laconic dispatches when the mood took him’.16 Although Fuchs argued that he was too busy to write articles or give radiotelephone interviews, the failure to provide such basic information as to where he was located was undoubtedly a source of deep frustration, not least to Ed.
On 17 December Ed received a message from Fuchs that he expected to arrive at the South Pole between Christmas and New Year.17 Ed wrote to Louise:
My dearest … I’m quite resigned to whatever happens with respect to the Pole trip. Now that we’re completing our supporting task we’ll just have a stab at going on further south making an attempt to dodge all crevasse areas and getting a clear run. If the going is very good we may possibly go to the Pole but probably we’ll do a couple of hundred miles recce and then return to D700 and either fly out or return with Fuchs if he’s as early as he says he’s going to be. I’ll just be counting the days now to get back to Auckland …
To Fuchs he wrote:
Pleased to hear you anticipating arriving Pole by New Year. You should arrive Scott Base in February … Have had difficulty in following your progress and would appreciate confirmation that you have reached South Ice … On completion of D700 intend heading south-west with three Fergusons to try and clear crevasse areas and get clear running towards Pole. I don’t know how far we will get but will keep you advised … Ed Hillary18
On 20 December the five-man tractor party left D700, travelling south and carrying 20 drums of fuel which, with luck, should be just enough to travel all the way to the Pole. If there was too much deep snow they would turn back to D700.
With Fuchs from Shackleton to South Ice
When Fuchs and Hillary set off on their journeys in October 1957, Fuchs on the 8th and Hillary on the 14th, both knew from aerial reconnaissance that there were no impassable obstacles on the routes they had chosen. Hillary also had information from an on-the-ground survey in early 1957 by Brooke, Ellis, Ayres and Douglas who had driven their two dog teams the full 100-mile length of the glacier and knew exactly where the best route lay along the line broadly defined from the air. When they began the main journey eight months later, they again had dog teams out front marking the best route.
Fuchs had hoped to make his own preliminary reconnaissance in early 1957 but there had not been time. When the four of them set out on 8 October – Fuchs, mechanics David Pratt and Roy Homard, and seismologist Geoffrey Pratt – they were driving a Sno-Cat and three Weasels. The start was inauspicious when one of these broke down and had to limp back on Day 2 and another was abandoned after a breakdown. Fuchs’s original estimate for the 350-mile journey to South Ice had been 14 to 21 days, but problems on three extensive crevasse areas meant the journey took 37 frustrating days. The result was that the departure of the main expedition, in three Sno-Cats, two Weasels and a Muskeg, was delayed until 24 November.
Worse was to come. With their knowledge of the route, the second trip from Shackleton to South Ice was expected to be much quicker – eight days was Fuchs’s estimate – but at 28 days it was not much quicker than the first. The problem was that several weeks of warmer weather had softened the snow bridges. While the single Sno-Cat on the first trip never had a break-through, three major recoveries were needed on the second.19 The dramatic photographs of these long red vehicles with their pontoons angled down into empty space and embedded in crevasse walls are well known. To the inexpert eye the vehicles look impossible to retrieve, but all were miraculously brought back to the surface.
As a result the expedition lost a month which could not easily be recovered. Fuchs might have regretted that he had not combined all his resources into a single journey from Shackleton. The firmer bridges of the colder months of October and November would have given his four Sno-Cats less trouble. He would have had 10 people throughout to do the scientific and mechanical work of the expedition. And he would have had his dog teams for roving ahead to find the best route through the crevassed areas.
Although radio links could be sporadic, the expedition members were able to tune into the BBC and the NZBC, both of which gave reports from the Antarctic. Stephenson, the Australian geologist with TAE, noted that although there was usually a brief informative report from the New Zealand group, news from the British party was infrequent because Fuchs ‘distanced himself from publicity’. Stephenson expressed the exasperation of all of them wh
en he wrote: ‘we found ourselves increasingly irritated by the persistent Hillary reports. We welcomed his progress but not the endless publicity.’20
Included in the news on 18 December was the information that Hillary was intending to drive to the Pole. It is not clear where this statement came from, as Ed was still at D700 and still being coy at an official level, but the rumours had been around for a long time. Fuchs sounds unsurprised in what could be read as a disingenuous comment in his diary of 19 December:
I cannot imagine that Ed would have set this ball rolling without letting me know what he wanted to do … While there is no objection to his going on to the Pole, there is also no value for he can do no work on the way.21
The finishing straight is 550 miles long
The TAE had been generating little public interest until December 1957 when the world’s press realised a story was unfolding in the Antarctic with a newsworthy end-game being played out. Reporters from around the globe converged on McMurdo and the Pole Station. They were calling it a race. On the Weddell Sea side was the Fuchs team with four 170hp Sno-Cats, three Weasels, a Muskeg and two dog teams. With 550 miles separating them from the Pole, they would leave South Ice on 25 December after listening to the Queen’s Christmas Day message to her subjects. On the Ross Sea side was the Hillary team driving three 26hp Ferguson tractors. They would leave D700 on 20 December, five days ahead of the Sno-Cats, and they too had 550 miles of sastrugi and soft snow between them and the Pole. It was a distortion of what the TAE was about, but pitching it as a race made an irresistible story. The Fuchs party may have had more powerful vehicles but they were committed to their halts for seismic shots every 30 miles. The dogs no longer had an obvious role but there was no way out for them except by trotting alongside the vehicles. They were happiest travelling not much more than 20 miles a day, so they too were a limiting factor. There were the usual demands of vehicle maintenance in the sub-zero polar environment, and finally there were the sastrugi, the wind-formed ice ridges that hinder progress across the Plateau.
Not all of Ed’s team were enthusiastic about a dash for the Pole that could end dangerously at the bottom of a crevasse, or ignominiously with a call for help from an American plane if the tractors broke down or ran out of fuel. Ellis and Bates were both fed up with patching up worn-out old tractors. Murray Ellis wanted to join a dog team. ‘Tractors don’t sit up and wag their tails when you feed them,’22 he said. Derek Wright, the photographer who had been co-opted as a driver, knew he was going to get good photos no matter how it turned out. Peter Mulgrew was all keenness: ‘Let’s go to the Pole, Ed.’23 As for Ed, the Pole was a mountain that had to be climbed.
John Claydon flew in a last load of fuel to D700 on 20 December. Then, at 8.30 p.m., Ed signalled the start of the push to the south. ‘Didn’t sleep very well as my mind kept churning over,’ he noted in his diary, and the churning might not have been helped by a message from Bowden: ‘Meanwhile you should not proceed beyond Depot 700.’24
On 21 December, the day Fuchs rolled into South Ice, Ed sent him a message:
Have completed stocking of depots … Left D700 yesterday with three Fergusons and 20 drums of fuel with intention of proving the route another 200 miles and then if going proved easy doing a trip to the pole. Did 27 miles yesterday … Will scrub southward jaunt if vehicles and fuel can be used in any way to expedite your safe crossing either by further depot or anything else you suggest. In the interim until I get your reply will continue out to 100 miles from D700 and will cairn crevasse areas … Best wishes … Ed Hillary.25
One can only speculate which messages were getting through and when, but three days later, on 24 December, a message was received from Fuchs which made no mention of Ed’s intention of ‘doing a trip to the pole’:
We arrived South Ice 21 December after severe crevasse trouble and three major recoveries of Sno-cats … Consider this worst stage of journey and expect rapid travel from here on. Thanks for your information and proposed crevasse reconnaissance … We expect leave South Ice 25th … Happy Christmas to you all. Bunny26
Ed replied:
Glad to hear of your arrival South Ice … We are 390 miles from Pole. Have cairned two areas of crevasses since D700 but last fifty miles has been clear going. Waiting one day here then will push on. Will attempt contact you as arranged and advise you of progress. Best of luck, happy Christmas and an early New Year at the Pole. Ed Hillary27
Ed felt pleased with the way events were shaping up, and he wrote in his diary, ‘Slept like a log. Lovely morning and found excellent travelling surface. Long low folds and extensive vistas in every direction. It really looks like a plateau.’28
By 26 December, with no word from Fuchs, Ed could no longer contain his exuberance and sent out an arresting press release: ‘Am hellbent for the Pole, God willing and crevasses permitting.’29
But that evening in the caboose, Peter Mulgrew’s radio delivered the sort of message that might have been expected at any time over the previous week. It was headed, ‘Urgent personal Fuchs to Hillary’ and began with a discussion of how there was a risk they would run out of fuel:
… this risk was accepted when we thought you would have difficulty stocking D700. In interests of whole expedition I do not feel we should continue to accept this risk and am in difficult position of feeling I must accept your offer to clear present crevasse area then establish additional fuel depot at appropriate position from D700 thus abandoning your idea of reaching Pole. Know this will be great disappointment to you and your companions, but the additional depot will enormously strengthen the position of the crossing party … Bunny Fuchs30
The reality was that Fuchs had ample fuel to reach D700, where more was stockpiled.31 He had written in his diary a week earlier that ‘there is no objection to his [Hillary] going on to the Pole’,32 but since then someone seems to have pointed out the undesirability of the Ferguson tractors arriving before he did. It was bad enough that the Americans had built a centrally heated base on top of the Pole, complete with regular plane flights and a canteen serving Coke and hamburgers, without the support party preceding him in their makeshift vehicles.
Ed was now unstoppable:
Personal to Fuchs, 27 December. Your message has arrived too late as we are now 240 miles from the Pole with only ten drums left. Have neither the food nor fuel to sit here and await your arrival … Your previous messages gave no indication of your concern about your fuel so I presumed you were satisfied with the depot stocking as arranged. I am sure we can fly more fuel in to D700 and the other depots and in an emergency you could no doubt get a few drums from the Pole Station. We have seen no crevasses from 60 miles on the Pole side of D700 and you should make fast time over this section. Expect to arrive Pole in six days … Hillary.33
At this stage the vehicles at significant risk of running out of fuel were the three Ferguson tractors labouring towards the Pole. A couple of days of deep, soft snow and the expedition would end up man-hauling or calling on the Americans for an air drop. This was, as journalist Douglas McKenzie pointed out, ‘a situation which the United States Navy in Antarctica, with its close knowledge of the New Zealanders’ dog-team, twenty-six horse-power tractors, and single-engine air transport, accepted with affectionate resignation’.34
When the tractors wearily bucked and slithered into the Pole station on 4 January 1958, they had half a drum of fuel left of the 22 they had set out with 15 days earlier. It was a close-run thing.
Although there may have been a touch of polar remorse after arrival, Ed never really regretted what he’d done, even if he had exceeded the instructions framed for him back in 1956. He’d laid the depots but Fuchs’s fleet of vehicles was a month late. Was Ed, as leader of what he saw as the New Zealand Antarctic Expedition, really expected to sit around at D700 waiting for the uncommunicative Dr Fuchs to arrive at an unknown date? Why shouldn’t he go to the Pole? And as Fuchs had always been quick to point out, not always convincingly, his own main interest w
as the scientific programme, not the physical achievement of traversing the continent. For Ed, accepting the challenge was all: ‘I would have despised myself if I hadn’t continued – it was as simple as that – I just had to go on.’35
That was how Ed saw the matter, but the British press, not surprisingly, saw the dash to the Pole in a much less favourable light. Jon Stephenson expressed in restrained language the view of his fellow expedition members when he wrote: ‘At the time most of us on the crossing party felt it was underhand.’36
The New Zealand press, also not surprisingly, liked to see resourceful, under-funded Kiwis achieving above expectations. The 75-year-old English-born New Zealand prime minister, Walter Nash, had even asked his Foreign Office for advice when Ed was still between D700 and the Pole. Their reply read:
The most important considerations in the present situation are that:
(a) Hillary has carried out his primary obligations with notable success
(b) If he were to wait for Fuchs at Depot 700 he might have to wait many weeks doing nothing
(c) A further reconnaissance would obviously assist Fuchs if and when he reaches the area
(d) Hillary is confident – and no one in New Zealand can question his judgment – that he can reach the South Pole with his present resources …
It appears, therefore, that there are no good grounds for instructing Hillary to return to Depot 700 there to await Fuchs’ arrival – nor would such an instruction be easily explained to the New Zealand public.37
Ed wins the race but loses the game
If Ed had adopted a low profile after arriving at the Pole – perhaps some shoulder-shrugging modesty and a claim that he was doing it to help Bunny – there would have been some grumbling but not too much. Regrettably, he did not. On 3 January Ed made a bad move. If this had been a game of chess, it could have been said that Ed was playing a risky game against an older and more experienced opponent – and that what he did next was to lose his queen and put himself in check. The message he sent was this: