Felicity Aston

Poles Apart

'We're going to the South Pole!' bellowed a small boy excitedly as he was ushered by a protective teacher into an orderly line behind his classmates. Each of the children were tightly wrapped in brightly coloured coats and scarves, some with woolly hats pulled low over their eyes, others with fluffy earmuffs shaped like penguins or polar bears. I too was on my way to the South Pole and as I pushed on passed the line of chattering children I dug my chin further into the collar of my jacket to escape the biting wind that burned my skin with cold and made my eyes water.

When the South Pole finally came into view I stood looking at it for a moment. This was the fourth occasion in my life that I had stood at a 'Pole' but this time there were no flags being waved in triumph, no latitude markers and the only snow to be seen was on a painted signboard in the car park. I was standing in front of the South Pole Inn and this was not the Antarctic but Anascaul, a quiet village halfway along the Dingle Peninsula on the West coast of Ireland.
This part of County Kerry is known for its dramatic coastline and equally epic weather but I had come to Anascaul specifically to see the South Pole Inn. Apart from its unusual name, nothing else about the outside of the pub gave any clue as to why I should make the four-hour drive from Dublin to see it. Once inside, however, it was clear that there was something special about the place. An open fire crackled gloriously at one end of a simple stone-walled room, filling it with delicious warmth and above the fireplace hung a series of black and white photographs depicting Antarctic scenes; men toiling in harnesses to pull over-laden sledges, a masted sailing ship surrounded by a frozen ocean and groups in bedraggled clothing posed in front of wooden huts half buried in snow.
On closer inspection, one face appears in the photographs more than most - his rugged features almost always creased into an infectious smile and a pipe characteristically gripped between his lips. The man is immediately recognisable as Tom Crean, the legendary polar hero who sailed to Antarctica three times between 1901 and 1917, twice with Scott on both the Discovery and Terra Nova expeditions and again with Shackleton on the Endurance. Not only was Tom Crean party to some of the greatest events in the heroic age of polar exploration but he has become one of the most cherished characters of these celebrated expeditions, distinguishing himself repeatedly as a man of great courage and integrity.
Born and raised in Anascaul as one of several children in a poor farming family, Tom was lured away to a life in the British Navy at the age of just 15. It was while serving as an Able Seaman that he came into contact with the Discovery and volunteered to join Scott's expedition. At that time very little was known about Antarctica. Only a handful of expeditions had glimpsed the coast of the continent and none at all had penetrated more than a dozen miles into its vast interior. Having organised and led my own expeditions in Antarctica I can imagine the excitement and anticipation of the Discovery crew as they headed into the unknown, but whereas in the 21st century, my teams have the reassurance of a satellite phone if anything goes wrong, the Discovery expedition was completely cut off from the outside world. They knew that no matter what happened to them, they could expect no rescue.
Despite the dangers, Crean appears to have relished the adventure. He took part in three major sledge journeys across the Ross Ice Shelf, including a depot laying expedition which pushed further south than anyone else at that time.
Scott became particularly fond of Crean, so much so that when the Discovery expedition returned, Scott requested Crean aboard all his subsequent commands. When he launched the Terra Nova expedition six years later, Crean was one of the first members of the crew to be appointed. Scott wrote of him, 'Crean is perfectly happy, ready to do anything and go anywhere, the harder the work the better.'
Now 34, Crean was one of the only members of the Terra Nova crew with any previous polar experience. Once again he proved himself invaluable. He saved the life of two of his fellow crewmates when they became stranded on an ice floe. As killer whales circled in the icy ocean around them, Crean leapt across open water from one disintegrating floe to another, eventually reaching solid ground so that he could fetch help to rescue his friends. Later during the expedition Crean was part of the team that accompanied Scott to within 140 miles of the South Pole. He was turned back by Scott (why Crean, one of the strongest in the remaining group was not included in the final polar party is something which still causes controversy to this day) along with Lt Teddy Evans and William Lashley.
The trio barely survived the arduous journey back to the coast, making a desperate descent of a crevassed icefall which left Evans so depleted that Lashley and Crean were forced to drag him on their sledge. With food and fuel running low and Evans close to death, the party were still more than 30 miles from the safety of the expedition's hut when Crean decided to set out alone to fetch help.
To understand the true bravery of Crean's decision, it is important to appreciate that polar travel is a relentless war of attrition against the elements. My expeditions set out with sophisticated windproof fabrics, lightweight tents and fibreglass sledges but even then, we find that our bodies begin to get a little weaker every day, right from the outset. Crean and his companions were struggling with the bulky and cumbersome equipment of their time; heavy fur sleeping bags, a single skin canvas tent. More significantly, they did not have the same understanding of nutrition that is so vital to us today. Their rations would have been completely inadequate and the men wouldn't have realised the importance of hydration. Towards the end of their 4 month, 1500 mile journey, the men were sustained by little more than sweet tea and a daily ration of pipe tobacco. Malnourished and dehydrated, they would have been physically exhausted and yet they continued to push themselves onward, day after day, exposing themselves to the cold, the pain and the torment. To do that takes a mental strength that I can barely comprehend.
The fact that Crean was then able to continue, alone, for those final 30 miles speaks not of his physical stamina, or his determination to survive but of his dedication to his companions. Survival alone wouldn't have been motivation enough. The temptation to stop, to submit to the cold, to end the misery must have been irresistible - but Tom knew he was the only hope his friends had and I think that is what kept him going. His lone march that day saved the life of Evans and was described by the expedition photographer, Herbert Ponting, as 'one of the finest feats in an adventure that is an epic of splendid episodes.'
Although Crean was later awarded the Albert Medal for his courage, his exploits were overshadowed by events when Scott and his polar party failed to return from the pole. The following summer Crean joined the search party that found the bodies of Scott, Wilson and Bowers. Crean was devastated saying of Scott, 'I loved every hair on his head.'
Of the 31 men that sailed south with the Terra Nova expedition, Crean was the only one to ever to go back to the Antarctic. Less than a year after returning home he was heading south again with Shackleton's Imperial Trans-Antarctic Expedition on the Endurance. The expedition was destined to be a disaster. The Endurance was trapped and crushed by the ice before reaching the coast of Antarctica, forcing the men to abandon ship onto the ice floes. During the desperate journey that followed, as the crew found refuge on a desolate Antarctic island, Crean became one of Shackleton's most trusted men. It was Crean who accompanied Shackleton and four others in the tiny lifeboat, the James Caird, across the Southern Ocean to South Georgia in a bid to fetch help. The crossing is one of the most remarkable feats of navigation and survival ever recorded but their ordeal was not over once they reached land. Crean, Shackleton and the navigator, Worsley, were then forced to cross the mountainous island with no map and no equipment. One of the photographs hanging on the wall at the South Pole Inn shows the trio shortly after their epic crossing. It is one of the few pictures in which Tom isn't smiling.
The hardship that Crean and his comrades endured in the Antarctic is almost unimaginable to us today and yet Crean was often remembered in the diaries of others with affection for his relentless cheeriness. His unfailing good humour may seem extraordinary but Enda O'Brian, Tom Crean's grandson, puts it into perspective for me as we meet in the farmhouse just a short drive from the South Pole Inn, where Tom Crean was born and raised. Enda shows me part of the house that reveals the stone walls as they would have been in Tom's day. A cold wind breezes through the gaps between the stones and the air feels damp. It must have been a harsh place to grow up and the pragmatic approach Crean took to the Antarctic was clearly cultivated in his youth. 'Life in Kerry in those days was extremely hard,' explains Enda. 'Only the tough survived childhood and they learnt to get along with whatever they had.'
After returning from the fateful Endurance expedition in 1917, Crean served out the war in the Navy before retiring in his early 40's and returning to Anascaul. He already owned a pub in the village - an ambition he had planned with Taff Evans (who later died with Scott) during the long Antarctic winters - but now he rebuilt the premises, adding a second floor and renaming it the South Pole Inn. The top floor became his home along with his new bride, Ellen Herlihy, and the couple became known locally as 'Tom the Pole' and 'Nell the Pole'. Crean's contentment with his new life is demonstrated by his reaction when Shackleton once again asked him to go south, this time with the Quest Expedition in 1921. Crean refused, replying that he 'had a long-haired friend now.'
Although the pub is no longer owned by the Crean family, it hasn't changed much since Tom lived there. The biggest difference is that the walls are now covered with Antarctic pictures and memorabilia, something Enda suspects that his grandfather would never have allowed. Tom rarely spoke of his time in the Antarctic, so much so that until recently the family didn't realise the significance of his role. 'We got snippets of information from our mother,' remembers Enda, 'but he didn't talk about it, not even to his own kids. In our house there were some naval books and old signalling flags but my grandmother kept all his memorabilia, his sword and his medals, locked away in a wardrobe in her room.'
Tom's reluctance to talk about his adventures in the Antarctic is an indication of his natural humility but Enda feels it is more than that, 'I think he had huge respect for the people that went with him on the expeditions and who didn't come back. I'd say he probably felt it wrong to talk about his adventures because he probably knew how lucky he was to survive.'
It strikes me as a huge loss that Crean, as a witness to some of the most legendary episodes in the history of exploration, did not share more of his experiences. He didn't keep a diary or write a book and never gave a single interview. This is partly the reason why Crean appeared to be forgotten for so long but over the last ten years there has been a revival of his story. Every school child in Ireland now learns about Tom Crean and his inspirational life seems to have found a notable relevance to the younger generation. 'So much of Irish history is linked to violence but Tom was never really touched by any of that,' suggests Enda when I ask why Tom Crean has become such a popular icon. 'He was a hero that came from a very ordinary background. He wasn't an officer, he wasn't gentry. He was a farmer's lad but is now recognized internationally as having achieved extraordinary things. A lot of his story is easy to identify with.'
But while many are discovering the remarkable story of Tom Crean for the first time, there are some that have never forgotten his heroism. At the family tomb, Enda shows me a wreath of white porcelain flowers that were delivered in a Rolls Royce on the day of Tom Crean's funeral. They were a tribute from Teddy Evans, the man Crean had saved by making a solo march through the Antarctic, and who had eventually become Lord Mountevans, an Admiral in the Royal Navy. Even today, the Evans family openly express the debt of gratitude they feel. Broke Evans, grandson of Teddy, wrote simply, 'I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for Tom Crean.'
As I leave the warmth of the South Pole Inn and step into the cold Kerry wind, I notice that the school children have finished their visit and have moved on to a small garden on the opposite side of the road. In the centre of the garden is a life-size statue of Tom Crean leant casually on a stone, with two pups tucked under his right arm. The children rush ahead of their teacher to crowd around the statue and I watch as hands reach from the throng to touch the statues face and pat its shoulder tenderly. What other historical heroes could elicit such a fond response from 11-year-olds? The regard that Anascaul, County Kerry, and now Ireland reserves for Tom Crean is the richest legacy that anyone could hope for. I remembered the words, chosen by one of his daughters, that I had seen earlier on Tom Crean's grave: Home is the sailor, Home from the sea.
Now that his story has at last been brought to public consciousness and he has received the recognition he deserves for his role in Antarctic Exploration, it seems that Tom Crean has, at last, truly come home from the cold.



(This article was first published in Land Rover Onelife Issue 22 in June 2011 : Photo by Craig Easton)

"It's a little known fact, but the South Pole also happens to exist in a small village on the west coast of Ireland. Tom Crean, an unsung hero of early exploration, is the man responsible for this anomaly, but why? Onelife sent Felicity Aston, a veteran of several Antarctic expeditions, to find out more."