Frost Bite: When Sub-Zero Temperatures Shattered an Antarctic Explorer's Teeth

The History Collection / Alamy Stock Photo
The History Collection / Alamy Stock Photo

Thanks to a polar vortex, blisteringly cold temperatures are sweeping across the United States this week, with some areas of the Midwest clocking temperatures colder than Antarctica. (Lake Michigan has even frozen over.) But that fact can be somewhat misleading: It’s summer in Antarctica right now. In the winter (when there is 24-hour darkness for weeks), temperatures there can plunge to an average of -76°C (nearly -105°F), a fact that 20th century explorer Apsley Cherry-Garrard learned firsthand in 1911, when, during a scientific mission on the continent, his teeth shattered from the chill.

“A New and Bold Venture”

Cherry-Garrard was the assistant zoologist of the Terra Nova Expedition, which journeyed to Antarctica in 1910 and was led by Robert Falcon Scott. Among the expedition’s goals were to reach the South Pole (an aim Scott would perish trying to achieve) and to retrieve Emperor penguin eggs, which some scientists believed would prove the theory of recapitulation—that an embryo of a creature will take the form of its ancestors as it developed. Terra Nova’s zoologist, Edward Wilson, was hoping to use the eggs to find proof of a link between birds and dinosaurs.

To get the evidence would require a more than 62-mile journey, from the expedition’s camp on Cape Evans to the penguin nesting ground on Cape Crozier, in the punishing Antarctic winter with nothing but the Moon to light their way. A trip of its kind had never before been undertaken.

“This winter travel is a new and bold venture," Scott wrote, "but the right men have gone to attempt it.”

Cherry-Garrard would later dub it “the worst journey in the world.”

“Any One Would Be A Fool Who Went Again”

An image of emperor penguins and their chicks in Antarctica.
iStock.com/vladsilver

Emperor penguins nest in the winter, allowing their chicks to hatch in the spring to give them the most time to develop the feathers they needed to survive Antarctica’s chill. As Cherry-Garrard noted later, “The Emperor penguin is compelled to undertake all kinds of hardships because his children insist on developing so slowly.”

Wilson and Cherry-Garrard, with fellow explorer Henry "Birdie" Bowers, set off for Cape Crozier on June 27, 1911. It took 19 days to reach the cape. “The horror of the 19 days it took us to travel from Cape Evans to Cape Crozier would have to be re-experienced to be appreciated,” Cherry-Garrard later wrote, “and any one would be a fool who went again: it is not possible to describe it. … I for one had come to that point of suffering at which I did not really care if only I could die without much pain.”

They got perhaps four hours of sleep a night; as they trudged through snow and storms and lugged their sledges out of crevasses, they breathed and sweated, which then froze on their clothes or their sleeping bags. The temperatures were so cold that at the beginning of their days their clothes would freeze into position after leaving the comparatively warm tent: “Once outside, I raised my head to look round and found I could not move it back,” Cherry-Garrard recalled. “My clothing had frozen hard as I stood—perhaps 15 seconds. For four hours I had to pull with my head stuck up, and from that time we all took care to bend down into a pulling position before being frozen in.”

The explorers retrieved five eggs from the colony—two of which cracked on the way back to the camp on the aptly titled Mount Terror—and wasted no time in turning back around. Cherry-Garrard would later write that “The horrors of that return journey are blurred to my memory and I know they were blurred to my body at the time.” He recounted lying in sleeping bags “shaking with cold until our backs would almost break.”

During a pause in one mid-day march, he recalled, “We stood panting with our backs against the mountainous mass of frozen gear which was our load. There was no wind, at any rate no more than light airs: our breath crackled as it froze. There was no unnecessary conversation: I don't know why our tongues never got frozen, but all my teeth, the nerves of which had been killed, split to pieces.”

“The Worst Journey in the World”

Cherry-Garrard and his companions finally made it back to Cape Evans five weeks after they had initially departed. Scott wrote that "They looked more weather-worn than anyone I have yet seen ... Cherry-Garrard is slightly puffy in the face and still looks worn. It is evident that he has suffered most severely—but Wilson tells me that his spirit never wavered for a moment."

They had managed to bring back three eggs, each encased in alcohol with a little window cut into the shell to reveal the embryo inside. The eggs are now in the collection of the Natural History Museum at Tring.

Bowers and Wilson would later go on a summer journey to the South Pole with Scott, Edgar Evans, and Lawrence Oates. When they reached the Pole, they discovered that Norwegian explorer Roald Amundsen had beat them to it. All five men would die trying to get back to Cape Evans.

Cherry-Garrard would ultimately survive his trip to Antarctica, though it left its mark—both physical and mental—on him. He would go on to write an account of the expedition titled The Worst Journey in the World, after the winter journey.

“Polar exploration is at once the cleanest and most isolated way of having a bad time which has been devised,” he wrote in its introduction. “It is the only form of adventure in which you put on your clothes at Michaelmas and keep them on until Christmas, and, save for a layer of the natural grease of the body, find them as clean as though they were new. It is more lonely than London, more secluded than any monastery, and the post comes but once a year. ... Take it all in all, I do not believe anybody on Earth has a worse time than an Emperor penguin.”

Keep Your Cat Busy With a Board Game That Doubles as a Scratch Pad

Cheerble
Cheerble

No matter how much you love playing with your cat, waving a feather toy in front of its face can get monotonous after a while (for the both of you). To shake up playtime, the Cheerble three-in-one board game looks to provide your feline housemate with hours of hands-free entertainment.

Cheerble's board game, which is currently raising money on Kickstarter, is designed to keep even the most restless cats stimulated. The first component of the game is the electronic Cheerble ball, which rolls on its own when your cat touches it with their paw or nose—no remote control required. And on days when your cat is especially energetic, you can adjust the ball's settings to roll and bounce in a way that matches their stamina.

Cheerable cat toy on Kickstarter.
Cheerble

The Cheerble balls are meant to pair with the Cheerble game board, which consists of a box that has plenty of room for balls to roll around. The board is also covered on one side with a platform that has holes big enough for your cat to fit their paws through, so they can hunt the balls like a game of Whack-a-Mole. And if your cat ever loses interest in chasing the ball, the board also includes a built-in scratch pad and fluffy wand toy to slap around. A simplified version of the board game includes the scratch pad without the wand or hole maze, so you can tailor your purchase for your cat's interests.

Cheerble cat board game.
Cheerble

Since launching its campaign on Kickstarter on April 23, Cheerble has raised over $128,000, already blowing past its initial goal of $6416. You can back the Kickstarter today to claim a Cheerble product, with $32 getting you a ball and $58 getting you the board game. You can make your pledge here, with shipping estimated for July 2020.

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Victorian Women Worked Out, Too—They Just Did It Wearing Corsets

Opening a door was nearly as taxing as an actual 19th-century workout.
Opening a door was nearly as taxing as an actual 19th-century workout.
ivan-96/iStock via Getty Images

The next time you’re gasping for breath in the middle of a cardio routine, try to imagine doing the same thing while decked out in a flowy dress and corset. That’s what female exercise enthusiasts faced in the 1800s.

According to Atlas Obscura, tailors weren’t churning out loose leggings or stretchy tracksuits for women to don for their daily fitness sessions, and workout guides for Victorian women were mainly written by men. To their credit, they weren’t recommending that ladies undergo high-intensity interval training or heavy lifting; instead, exercises were devised to account for the fact that women’s movements would be greatly constricted by tight bodices and elaborate hairstyles. As such, workouts focused on getting the blood flowing rather than burning calories or toning muscle.

In his 1827 book A Treatise on Calisthenic Exercises, Signor G.P. Voarino detailed dozens of options for women, including skipping, walking in zigzags, marching in place, and bending your arms and legs at specific angles. Some exercises even called for the use of a cane, though they were more geared towards balancing and stretching than weight-lifting.

To Voarino, the light calisthenic exercises were meant for “counteracting every tendency to deformity, and for obviating such defects of figure as are occasioned by confinement within doors, too close an application to sedentary employment, or by those constrained positions which young ladies habitually assume during their hours of study.”

Nearly 30 years later, Catharine Beecher (Harriet Beecher Stowe's sister) published her own workout guide, Physiology and Calisthenics for Schools and Families, which encouraged educators especially to incorporate exercise programs for all children into their curricula. Beecher was against corsets, but the illustrations in her book did still depict young ladies in long dresses—it would be some time before students were expected to change into gym clothes at school. Many of Beecher’s calisthenic exercises were similar to Voarino’s, though she included some beginner ballet positions, arm circles, and other faster-paced movements.

Compared to the fitness regimen of 14th-century knight Jean Le Maingre, however, Victorian calisthenics seem perfectly reasonable. From scaling walls to throwing stones, here’s how he liked to break a sweat.

[h/t Atlas Obscura]