Citation Needed - The Terra Nova Expedition,

Episode Date: December 13, 2023

The Terra Nova Expedition, officially the British Antarctic Expedition, was an expedition to Antarctica which took place between 1910 and 1913. Led by Captain Robert Falcon Scott, the expedition had various scientific and geographical objectives. Scott wished to continue the scientific work that he had begun when leading the Discovery Expedition from 1901 to 1904, and wanted to be the first to reach the geographic South Pole.

Right, but the daughter is trans, so everybody is like mad about it. But cabaret and Neopathric Harris is fine to them? I just... Yeah, it's not a cohesive world for you. I got damn it. I forgot it was Monday again. Hey Cecil, hey Noah! Seriously Tom, sled dogs? Yeah, okay. I mean my defense. Uh, these were still here for the last time.

You had a South Pole episode, so... No, no, Tom, those are new ones. Where'd you buy new sled dogs? I got a guy. Got a guy. Yeah. Hey, I get it. We turn our podcast studio into the Arctic and Antarctic Wasteland for this week's episode,

so can we please put everything back so we could maybe record a show? Yeah. Fine, yeah. I'll get the hair dryers. How did you guys even do this anyway? Oh, we just opened a window last night. He made it. It was like this in the morning.

Right. Yep. Chicago. Chicago. Exactly. Hello and welcome to Cytation Needed. The podcast where we choose a subject, read a single article about it on Wikipedia and pretend we're experts. Because this is the internet, and that's how it works now.

I'm Eli Bosnick and I'll be tobogganing the Tundra as your host this evening. But I'll be in some road dogs instead of some sled dogs. First up, the black ice powder and slush, Cecil Noah. And he- Black ice is an amazing rapper name for someone else. Somebody else- Yeah, not you. Yeah, I should-

Eli had to give up on the powder after the heart attack actually. Ah, that's a coil sport. And if you drink me too fast, I give you a headache. So nice. That's true, very true. And also joining us tonight, a puddle that's about to show us it's way deeper than it looks.

Tom, yeah, still a puddle. Yeah, still a, but no, thyself, still very much. Fair, fair. Before we begin tonight, I'd like to take a moment to thank our patrons. Yeah, still a puddle and still a but no thyself still very much fair Before we begin tonight like to take a moment to thank our patrons patrons if it weren't for you Tom would have to do the opening monologues of his essays to a therapist and Then So if you'd like to learn how to join their ranks be sure to stick around to the end of the show and with that out of the way tell a Cecil what person place thing concept phenomenon or event? Will we be talking about today? Today we're going to talk about the Terra Nova Expedition.

And Tom, you plumbed the icy depths of history for yet another cold exploitation tale. Are you ready to chill us to the bone? To not do so would be abominable. All right, Tom. What was the Terra Nova Expedition? Well, Eli, you know, sometimes Jesus is getting on the dock and looking out over the water. One thoughts inevitably turn to travel exploration. Of course, to spite. We got to take away his dock. No, no, no, see and map and chart every corner of the world is almost certainly a primal one, but more primal indeed is the desire, naïve, and need to succeed not for oneself, but to spite our enemies and competitors.

And if there is any story in the history of doomed expeditions that best exemplifies that urge to outcompete, to one up, to in fact, shall we say, if our way into the history of us and a cold, wintery grave, it is the story of the doomed Teranova expedition. And before anyone else checks, I did. I looked and I managed to refrain from telling a tale of icy doom for several years now. And I have known about this story for all of that time, and I held off from telling it, but I cannot hold off any longer. No, I'm just cutting every opening paragraph from the show and just replacing it with white noise.

That's what I'm doing. Well, I'm just sad you don't get a didn't tell the tale of icy doom on your star chart this week, Tom. I mean, that's, you know, they're, and don't listen to they are just jealous of your context. They are. They know. Thank you. They're and don't listen to they are just jealous of your context. No, they are. They know. No, thank you. The tyrannoma expedition was led by Robert Falcon Scott.

See, now that's how you start the essay. You cut that one off and you just don't know. But there you know backspin. Right there. But you wouldn't have the heart. What you mean in that? You mean in that. You mean in that.

It's so bad. You're the editor. Do your job. I will. Don't dare me. Don't you like. Do your job. I mean, this is a, don't dare me. Don't you like fucking dare me, Tom? This is your call yourself out right now. Guys, did you notice citation needed is 22 minutes?

Aterinova expedition was led by Robert Falcon Scott, who had previously led the successful discovery expedition from 1901 to 1904. expedition was led by Robert Falcon Scott, who had previously led the successful discovery expedition from 1901 and 1904. And when Scott, whereas I am now determined to rebrand him, Falcon returned from the discovery expedition, he resumed his career in the Navy, but his heart was still tied to the frozen South. Men will do anything but go to therapy. Just anything about it. How do you not call yourself Captain Falcon? Thank you, right? You're in here, Captain.

That's crazy. This whole essay, he is Falcon in my heart. He is Falcon. The Discovery Expedition had actually made it all that far south, and it stopped shy of the Great Ice Barrier. The Falcon had always intended to return. But in 1909, his plans sped up dramatic. When he learned that Ernest Shackleton had crossed the

Great Ice Barrier and penetrated it to within a hundred miles of the South Pole. Falcon was to say the least unhappy. You see, Falcon and Shackleton knew one another and Shackleton had kind of pinky sworn, he wouldn't just take a boat down to where Falcon had last left off based on what the world had just learned about that area and then trudge a little further afield than Falcon had. That is precisely what Shackleton had done. Falcon swore he'd return to the Antarctic and show up that show boating Shackleton and achieve even more being desperate and cold than the other guy. Okay, just go to a football game in December or shirtless and paint your chest like a reasonable

adult. You want any stuff like that? Yeah, I feel like this is going to be the last time anybody would hear about Shackleton or shirtless and paint your chest like a reasonable adult if you want any stuff like that. Yeah, I feel like this is gonna be the last time anybody would hear about Shackleton going to Anartic going, that lucky pass turned. Just turned. Ha ha ha ha.

As this was the early 1900s, it was kind of a race to the bottom, much like we are working on now with our embrace of late stage capitalism, but back then it was a race to the bottom of the world rather than toward the implosion of civil society. The Japanese were planning an expedition as well as the Mossen expedition, which we've already talked about on this show, and the Norwegians were making preparations.

And now, if you're wondering, Tom, why is everyone so obsessed with seeing what the most southern ice and snow looks like? Is there suspected to be gold or oil or precious resources at the pole? Was there perhaps a southern version of Santa Claus, rumored to be making real dolls for all the good little hits in the world? No, no. The race to the South Pole is very similar to the race to Mars or to the Moon. This was in many ways a technological and scientific race, as well as just a bit of a chest bump. And our guy, Falcon, was determined to beat them all to the butthole of the world.

Once you insell explorers complaining that all the mountains nearby have been climbed by some guy named Chad, so they're heading on to the world. South Pole Santa does naughty and nice flip. The south, right? Yeah, exactly. I'm picturing a Spanish accent for him. I don't know why. Not. Kelly, and that's not how they say that. The Wikipedia article has a heading that describes the crew and fans of my essays on doomed expeditions.

And I know the number in the perhaps fives or sixes of you will be disappointed to know that everyone really seemed actually pretty competent. Nowhere is the usual motley crew of like bohemian poet lumberjack dress makers appointed as the navigator or you know, perhaps a first made who stowed away in someone's hard tack hot pocket or whatever. No, instead everyone seems, I mean, honestly, really well chosen and qualified. Now, a bunch of them had experience being super fucking cold already with the perhaps notable

exception of one guy named, absolutely cherry jarar, who popped his way into the expedition by donating a bunch of money to the project and triumphantly bought himself one titan of a ticket. Okay, I get it, but I feel like the entire crew could be like, just, I did a rod winners and award winning coldologists and it still goes very, very bad. Exactly. If you want someone prepared to go to the South Pole on a wooden sled before GPS exists, get me a major depressive, right? That guy's prepared. Okay, it might just be arrogance, but after 27 years of lucinda putting her feet on me when we go to bed, I feel like I can't handle this.

I feel like this guys have nothing on me. And of course, the expedition was going to need some way to actually move all the gear and food from pointless aid, pointless B, and Falcon chose a combination of sled dogs, ponies, and motorized sledges. You heard that right? Yes, I said ponies. So I looked this up and it turns out that ponies are heartier little beasts than I had imagined. Oh, I've imagined some extremely hearty ponies.

Stop. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA That's tough. Fucking gross. All right. Well, ponies are well adapted to harsh conditions, such that you might find on the plains or the steps where it does indeed get quite cold, but I also looked it up, and there are no ponies found in Antarctica because it is an inhospitable wasteland that isn't meant to be fucking traversed, except by penguins.

And I guess if any of you are not now picturing a team of penguins pulling a sled guess if any of you are not now picturing a team of penguins pulling a sled, that you're missing out. Yeah. Actually, I was picturing a very sophisticated penguin with a motorized sledge license, but similar, similar.

First, I pictured some asshole tying a bunch of penguins to his sled and being like, yeah, fuck, this is nothing. They're not going anywhere. But then I pictured the penguins actually going with their penguin walk and sled go. It was like 10 feet, like a wind up toy. Well, everything shakes off the side and then he's like,

this is not good. This is not good. And with regard to the motorized sledges, you might remember in essay I wrote, when a Nazi tried to take motorized sledges through Canada. And that did not work. And like it didn't work out a whole lot. And for Nazi tried to take motorized sledges through Canada, and that did not work. And like it didn't work out a whole lot, and for many similar reasons, motorized sledges didn't have a successful history in the Antarctic date.

Jekyllton had tried them a few years earlier, and they were only marginally useful, and if you've ever struggled to start your car in the winter, or find a gas station in the middle of the Antarctic, well, you would understand why. And it briefly returned to the ponies thing, the guy who was in charge of buying the ponies, he didn't know shit about ponies. So he bought a bunch of them that were like old and like out of shape. They were like podcaster ponies. And they were ponies.

So like they stepped off the boat immediately, the ponies disappear into the snow. And they're like, okay, tiny horse was a bad idea. I just love the idea of Steve shoving a bunch of pink ribbons and hair brushes into his backpack. Of course, I know what makes a good pony. Okay. So in June of 1910, the main ship, Teran Nova said sail, but without Falcon. Falcon was soon to follow, but he was detained by some fundraising bullshit he had to deal with. And they had, I guess, Ari announced the final boarding group of the ships that sailed

in New Zealand while Falcon stayed behind trying to rustle up some more dough in Melbourne. And it was there that Falcon learned that the Norwegian expedition was proceeding south. The expedition to the south pole was now a race. A race that was between the speeds of light jog and mall walker. Yeah, a race. Sometimes slower. A Scott joined up with the Teranova in New Zealand, and they headed south in a very overloaded ship. So overloaded, in fact, that when the ship encountered a storm in rough seas, the boat immediately began to take on water. And the pumps, which were made to handle exactly this situation, failed.

And so the crew had to literally bail the ship out with buckets to keep it from sinking. And although they succeeded in not sinking before they were even in sight of Antarctica, they had lost two ponies, one sled dog, ten tons of coal, 65 gallons of fuel. It was not a great start, but it pretty much immediately got worse because they then hit pack ice and got stuck for 20 days before breaking free. And that delayed resulted in wasting yet another six tons of extra coal. Tom, listen to me. I don't know much, but I know our audience.

You kill as many ponies as you want in this essay. You go ahead and have a full on pony potato famine if you need to, but if you kill another dog in this story, we're going to have a ride on our hands just a change. Just a good. No, no, I'm just, I'm trying to figure out how you're bailing on a ship and you, and you lose ponies, right? Did they not check the bailing buckets for ponies before?

rights. Right to do they not check the bailing buckets for ponies before it. But the delays were over. The ship made land or what passes for land in the frozen south on the 4th of January in 1911. And they had sailed to Cape Evan, which falcon himself it is discovered on his discovery void for years prior. And the hope was that that cape would be free from the worst pack ice during the summer months and allowed the ship access in and out to move supplies on shore. And that when winter came, the ice would allow the voyagers access to the great ice barrier. A falcon wasn't just in a race to the pole, but was also supposed to do a bunch of science stuff like take readings of how cold the cold was and how windy the windy wind was. So one of the guys took the ship and he went on exploring and he ventured out to do some of that science stuff and they actually ran into Amman's. The leader of the Norwegian voyage that they were

racing again. They bumped into each other in the frozen empty wastes of Antarctica. And when Falcon learned of this, he initially wanted to sail out to Amman's and and I'm gonna waste some antarctic. And when Falcon learned of this, he initially wanted to sail out to Annmanson and I am not getting, he wanted to fight him. Hey boss, I could see you getting mad already. Can we just do the science thing and just... I hate that guy so much. Don't say pop in the shirt. Pop in the shirt.

Okay. Falcon, you gotta be cold. Falcon. We're not spelling out Falcon on our chest spam. I put fighting Aminzen in the Antarctic for exploring a little faster is fucking insane. And being a hothead, hobby doesn't last in the bitter cold. So instead he resolved to quote, proceed exactly as those this had not happened to go forward and do our best for the honor of our country without fear

or panic." And quote, sir, I shall meet you in the South Pole where we will handle this like gentleman in an epic rap battle. And so they proceeded with their plan, which was to lay a series of depots on the great ice barrier that they could use on their journey out and back, with the largest known as the one-ton depot. The laying of these depots was essential to the success of the mission, but also to their survival. But they pretty much immediately ran into problems. Yeah, oh, it's the guy in charge of the pony situation and also in a huff about the Norwegian expedition chose not to use the Norwegian snow shoes that they had brought along for the ponies out of like anti-Norwegian spite.

I like healthy. And this slowed things down considerably because of fucking corset did and the three day blizzard that hit them installed out any work that didn't help either. Okay, just call them freedom shoes, dude. It's cold out here, okay? Okay. Okay, rewind. The guy in charge of the ponies is named Oats. That's fucking adorable. Get the fuck out of here. That's probably how he got the job, right? Because he didn't know he was doing the right thing.

I bet Oats probably knows about ponies as a fine guy's tail. Why does he have a bunch of paint brushes? Ah, that's fine. After the weather broke, Falcon decided to send the three weakest ponies back to the base camp. But weak ponies don't get stronger trudging north instead of south,

and so it just died. And as the depot depositing crew made their way slowly southward, Fel can begin to worry that the ponies were all just gonna die, but he had himself a plan. See, the plan was to just let the ponies die, and then to eat them when they fell, because, you know, ponies were a stupid fucking idea in the Antarctic in the first place. And the crew continued their work, but the task proved slower and more difficult than they had planned. And the final and largest depot, one ton depot, was laid 30 miles short of where they had

originally planned. Okay, just once in one of these snow stories, I want someone to quit. Just one guy when the half comes off at the shank three miles out of port to be like, oh, hey, never mind We just do this later or not who fucking cares. There's nothing down there And now that the depots were laid the crew had to return to base camp But even that proved to be just a complete bitch a team of sled dogs lunch into a crevice Not a knife force Falcon or risk his life to save them. And he did.

And he retrieved the supplies. Okay. And when the remaining crew with the remaining ponies were crossing the sea ice near base camp, well, the ice began to break up underneath them. And then they ended up with like pony popsicles, despite their best efforts to save our texts. Such a sad moment. Fuck.

Oh, man. I think to put the kids moving right. That's so weird. I'll end this whole essay and talk about weird sad and scary shit. They put in our movies for no reason. About the time the crew had laid the debos returned to the base camp, only two ponies were still alive. And the crew hunkered down in their shelters to wait out the brutal Antarctic winter one of the

O ponies still really upbeat about the whole thing like man really got lucky today, huh? What do you think Paul shut the fuck up Steve? Okay, I'm having this break down here. I like that we're small, right? I like that we're small, right? And a hearty? Seriously, why did they do put like, okay, they're hearty, but like, tardigrades are hearty, but like, you don't bring them to like, sleds in the anarchy, you brought a lot, you should, they even great. Surfers in the sun.

Well, you could if you had like Norwegian tardigrades shoes, like, it would work better. Okay, that's adorable though. I feel like the image of that is pretty cute. Little neat. You can have steak, tart, tart, or bread. Delicious. Ah!

Do you remember before when I mentioned the mini expedition that bumped into the Norwegian explorers, after reporting the whereabouts of the Norwegians to Falcon, a smaller crew, led by a guy named Campbell, took the Taranov and sailed north through different Cape, and they became known as the Northern Party. And after spending the winter of 1911 in their hut, the crew was determined to set sail again in exploration, but instead they just got stuck in the sea ice and the sea ice pack, and they couldn't find an acceptable route out,

and instead they were transferred to yet another cape a couple of hundred miles away called Evans Coal, but they were supposed to do some geologic science stuff. And the Taronova just sailed away, but when it came time to return, the condition of the ice pack made it impossible for them to reach the men in return. These guys had not anticipated being unable to get an uber, and they didn't have nearly enough snack time. And although they supplemented their rations with seal meat and fish, things got pretty rough and soon enough the summer of 1911 gave way to the winter of 1912 and the guys had a carve out and huddle inside of an ice cave to survive.

They were beset by frostbite, dysentery and extreme hunger and despite the horror of their conditions and the weakness that followed, they managed to survive the winter and eventually make their way back to base camp. This is interior. Ice cave sounds like the worst ride at Epcot's Hunter. Like the very worst one. Guys, when I shit, it freezes before it's the crap. So cool, right?

Shut the fuck up, Steve. Why did we buy talking ponies? Wow. This is a real dog and pony show. How dare you. I'll push you off the boat so hard. And then another crew set off from the main group to do some other hard-sizing. And this time I love this one.

It's to retrieve the eggs of emperor penguins. But not just any old eggs, they wanted to get the eggs at a specific point in their embryonic development so that the life cycle of the bird could be better understood. So keeping in mind that this was the goal of this side quest, here's what these men endured, so you could one time skim a zoo book on penguins and forget everything you read about that. Fuck you, Tom. He sold treasured to the only book his family had until they had to burn it for he treasured that book.

Oh, they would need a travel. That's not funny. That's just not funny. It's mean, very mean. We sold that book to turn the heat back on. Simon accurate, stupid. To do this, they would need to travel during the peak of the Antarctic winter, something which had never previously been attempted for very obvious reasons. The crew would have to travel 60 miles to the Penguin colony. They would have to face temperatures as low

as 77 below zero. In the darkness, their clothes and gear covered always in sheets of ice and many days the furthest that the group of travel would be a mile in a single day No wonder penguins aren't scared of us the first time they saw us we were half starved slow motion crazy people shitting out half-digested pony as icicles That's pretty scary. I still, despite that they reached the penguin colon and they built themselves an igloo made of snow, stone, and I love this, a sheet of wood that they lugged with them for 60 miles for the root. And it's a good thing they did because a storm blew up pretty much immediately with sustained winds in excess of 60 miles an hour, but hey, they got those penguin eggs after the storm subsided and they headed back to camp.

And three of the eggs actually survived this whole thing and they ended up at the natural history museum in South Pensing. Yeah, I'm not sure like the official excuse for what happened to the rest of the eggs, but I'm Ben, whoever first formulated, did it with a mouthful of omelet, right? Yeah. Okay. Okay. Cherry Girard described the experiences quote, the worst journey in the world.

End quote, while Falcon declared the winter journey quote, a very wonderful performance. But Penguin egg, as important as they very obviously are, we're only part of the goal because now it was time for the crew to head south to the pole. For Bacon and English muffins. Fuck yeah. All right, well while Heath tries to come up with a Penguin-slash-eggs-benedict pun, we'll take a little break for it. Aropos? Oh, I don't do that! Oh, sorry, you forgot! You son of a bitch!

Right, sorry for got your assake a path. Uh, sorry Robert, what's the matter? No, I'll like you, don't know. You and I are in a race to the bottom of the world, you dare show your face in my path. I mean... You're literally just the one in port to sail out of, man. Yeah, likely story. Come, then, Mr. Cuffs.

No, Robert, not gonna be spite you for, I don't know the South Pole or whatever you have in my, what do you even imagine we're fighting over? Glory, glory and name, the bottom of the very globe. Okay, right. Well, you can have all that stuff, man. I'm just gonna take some measurements. You may be a few pictures.

You are? Hey, man. I'm a scientist. We're not in a weird race. We're just trying to figure things out. I don't know. Oh. Yeah.

Well, can I ask you a question? Sure, man, we're on the same team. I'm happy to help. Yeah, so listen, how many ponies have you eaten? None. Man, I've eaten none ponies. Right, yes. Yeah, of course, I'm... You know, me too, none. None too. See. Sounds like you ate at least one pony bite me

Still still no And we're back. When we left it was cold out there. It's cold out there every day. Tell us Tom, what happened next? Eggs ice flow routine. Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know.

I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know.

I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know.

I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. and the man would continue without the aid of the animals or motorized sludges across the treacherous glacier broken with three groups of four men. And as they journeyed, Falcon would choose the strongest of the teams to continue to the South Pole while the other two groups would be sent back at specific latitude. Okay, Tom, I appreciate your effort, but they killed the ponies and sent the dogs home. Was that to a farm up state by any chance? The dogs know, I had to assume they were like homing dogs or something. So the motor party set off with the goal to bring supplies ahead of the other and then

a wait for the slower groups to catch up through the supplies. But after just 50 miles of travel, both of the motor sludge's broke down. And then the man at a hall, the 740 pounds of supplies, 150 miles across the ice manually, which took two weeks. When Falcon, who was with the dogs, was reunited with the motor sledge guys who were now just guys guys. The plan had been to send the dogs back to base camp, but since they didn't have motor sledge and they were behind schedule, they decided to take the dogs further along and they carried onward until a blizzard struck and the men were stuck for another five days waiting out the blizzard and they were chewing through their rations without progressing forward toward their next supply depot. The remaining ponies were shot as planned and the meat was buried for use on the return

trip. Yeah, they just stick their forelegs up in the air and you put a flag on one of them. Easy to find. So this is why Cecil is a master of his craft listeners. Tom set up for our comedy podcast was shot to ponies and hope that they wouldn't freeze to death before they could eat the ponies. They just shot and Cecil consummate professional

that he has goes, I think that's close for a visual gag. Okay, visual gag. Well done, sir. A 16 days later, the party began the ascent of the beard more. The ancient city of Antarctic dwarfs. Well done sir, a 16 days later the party began the ascent of the beard more, the ancient city of Antarctic dwarfs. And they reached the upper glacier depot they had left previously planted. Falcon sent back to base camp for the men with the dogs to wait for the parties return

and the remaining eight men continued south. A couple of days later in much better, the men having made good progress, Falcon declared that five men, including himself, would continue ahead and three men sent back to camp. In considerably better spirits, Falcon and his four companions pushed forward until seven grueling days later, they spotted 15 miles in the distance, the black flag planted in the center of the South, because the Norwegians had beaten. Hey, boss, I see a flag in the distance. It says sucks to suck, but what is that?

I don't know what that means. Can I fist fight it? Don't pop the shirt. He's not even here. What are you doing? Oh, the next day Falcon and his men reached the pole, stuck in the pole. He's not even here. What are you doing? The next day Falcon and his men reached the pole stuck in the pole. He wrote in his journal, quote, the pole, yes, but under very different circumstances from those expected great God. This is an awful and terrible place for us to have

labored to it without the reward of priority. Well, it is something to have got here. He's like, damn it. Now we won't get a citation needed episode unless everybody dies. And then this next part makes me realize that I've never been really competitive about anything because he realized he might still beat Aminston back. And so ruin the moment by being the first to break the news to the world. Well, I seriously, as soon as you wrote that like, they beat him nor we beat him. I was like, Oh, no, no, no, you just have to go kill him.

You just have to raise him back and you're fine. You got this. He wrote, quote, now for a desperate struggle to get the news through first. I wonder if we can do it. So the guys double check their position and make sure the flag was really in the right spot. It was and they planted their second flag and the crew began the return. Okay, technically, if we plant the flag right on top of their flag, that's for their south. Right.

We're going to jump when we do. We got to jump. The first three weeks went really well as far as their daily progress was concerned. But one of their guys, Edgar Evans, began to break down. He was suffering from extensive frostbite and was, quote, a good deal run down, quote, and oats. The guy who bought all the old and out of shape ponies they were eating, he wasn't doing much better, as his feet were beginning to become a prop. The group made their way back up and over, beard more, but they struggled to find a depot

they'd left behind. Probably because everything everywhere was a featureless white expanse of remorseless void. They got it all the way to Iowa, crazy. Yeah. The Republican National Convention, what? But I have to admire, I don't know, maybe not admire, but perhaps,

gap slack jawed at the optimism or the stupidity or the hutsp of these guys, because even though they were hungry and freezing and dispirited, they were still like really trying to do some science thing. During a brief half-days rest called by Falcon Wilson, the geologist dug up 30 pounds of samples and added those to their sled. At this point, I would be ditching everything in that sledge I couldn't eat, or wear, or start a fire with, but these fucking guys added 30 pounds of fossils to their sleds

and those plant fossils would actually later help to prove the theory of continental drift. There's a lot more interesting than Penguin guys thing. Anyway, fossils are known that guys, they were just falling apart. Evans had fucked up his hand, he banged his head pretty bad after several falls on the ice, likely due to his feet being frozen clubs of flesh, and is typically so effacient. It's crazy. Spelkin wrote, quote, he has absolutely changed from his normal self-reliant self."

End quote. Evans died at the bottom of the glacier that same day, but in fairness, he didn't need anyone's help to do it. Yeah, just Falcon holding the chubby penguin over his head, shushing him as he dies. That's all I want to go. Will you do that for me, Cecil? So just for the record, we want to point it out, injury and or disability has a sort of universal way of making people less self reliant. I just, it's just something

that Falcon and Republicans have trouble with apparently. I just want to put it on the record right now. Now, the four remaining men were anticipating meeting the dog teams at the next depot. And the guys knew this was a crucial moment. We are naturally always discussing the possibility of meeting the dog, wear and win, etc. It is a critical position. We may find ourselves in safety at the next depot, but there is a horrid, endile element of doubt." And that doubt would prove to be well-founded because at the depot, there were no dog teams.

And then the weather changed with a brutal drop in temperatures, which changed the ice so that it was quoted with a thin layer of woolly crystals formed by a radiation no doubt. That's snow. He's describing snow. I've seen that stuff before. These are two firmly fixed to be removed by the wind and cause impossible friction on the sledge runners, causing the sledgeist to feel like they were being pulled over desert sand." Flock, we should have brought very silly small camels. How hardy, you know, it's how hardy. And remember Oats' foot, because that wasn't getting any better, and the slow pace that

was required as a result meant that they were running out of oil. It had also become clear that the dogs were not only not there, but they were not coming. Quote, the dogs, which would have been our salvation, have evidently failed. It's weird to put this failure on the dogs. Man, yeah, fucking dogs. Meers, the dog driver had a bad trip home, I suppose, and quote, good. But Phil can also admit that maybe he had just fucked up. In a letter, he wondered whether he had bifbed the meat

though he also began to suspect that maybe they had just been a band. Well, we very nearly came through and it is a pity to have missed it. But lately, I have felt that we have overshot our mark. No one is to blame. Are you sure about that boss? Yes.

It's nothing they could have been done. Nobody could have waited until fucking space heaters existed. It's not like that. We're all everyone did exactly the right things and no one fucking bought some police. And I hope no attempt will be made to suggest we lacked support. That same day, oats told Scott, I'm going to go outside and maybe some time. He walked out into the wasteland and never returned. And then they built a memorial there for him, the Hall of Odes. Do you think he was super bad? Ask about it. Do you

think he was weird and asky the way I would be? Right? Oh, I'm going to take a quick walk out into the tundra. Yeah, got it. So don't wait up. Yeah, we're not. Bye. got it. So don't wait up. Yeah, we're not. Bye. Here I go. Yeah, 20. You want to help with the 19. Close it on the way out. It's chilly. 18. Yeah. The remaining three men move considerably faster without out. Don't even think about it, you guys. Okay.

But now Scott's feet were starting to succumb to frostbite. Eleven miles away from the largest of their depots, the one-tun depot, the three were again forced to stop when another blizzard forced them into shelter. For nine days, they tried to leave their shelter and continue on, but each day, the ferocity of the blizzard forced them back inside. And on March 29th, 1912, Falcon recorded a last entry in his journal, quote,

every day, we've been ready to start for our depot 11 miles away. But outside the door of the tent, it remains a scene of whirling drift. I do not think we can hope for any better things now. We shall stick it out to the end, but we are getting weaker, of course, and the end cannot be far. It seems a pity, but I do not think I can write more. Our Scott, last entry, for God's sake, look after our people." And quote, cool. We'll do that by not sending them to the coldest place on earth until we have shit like GPS. Is that okay? a weird request after you just killed off your whole crew. So what happened?

It's not super clear, but it does seem that the dog guy, Mears, after separating from Falcon and returning to camp, had become either disillusioned or possibly a little bit crazy. Some sources suggest he just fucking quit out of disgust with Falcon, but other sources suggest that mirrors was in fact ready to help with the resupply, but then he saw a mirage of a ship in the bay, and he stayed at the base rather than return to the depot with the much needed supplies. Regardless, Falcon does not appear to have overshot his mark, but was in fact murdered by his buddies quite quitting.

I get it. And if you had to summarize what you learned in one sentence, what would it be? Don't race Norwegians. Yeah, no, that's a good advice. And are you ready for the quiz? Absolutely. All right, Tom, so when we make your catalog

into cold exploitation musical, what's the best song on that soundtrack? A, Old Man, Shiver, B, phenomenal. the best song on that soundtrack. Hey, old man shiver. Be phenomenal. Please on down the road. See, we're off to see the Blizzard or Dean Aaron. Aaron. Aaron.

Aaron. Aaron. Aaron. Aaron. Aaron. Aaron. That is correct. Well done.

Oh, I hate having to go after Heath. Okay. So this sounds unpleasant and all, but Robert Falcon Scott has nothing on me because I've, A, tried to catch a train with Heath, B, tried to choose a restaurant with Eli, C, tried to argue with Tom or D, tried to think of anything negative at all to say about Cecil for this last bit of my Definitely all of the above. Yeah, it is it is When they dedicate the Hall of votes, they're gonna play a bunch of 80 songs, which will be the best performance. Hey, I'm still stranded. Be living on the sledge. See, oh, that, pile, loose, I'm gonna try see I've rated so much mail after that. Okay, see piled horses or D foot loose.

It's pile, horses, because how much it cracked you up. Yes, it is, it is pile, sorry, that's root time. We're gonna do magnetor, which is by Holland. That's awful, that's Roo Tom. Roo Tom. Which is by Holland. Let's put it in the box. That's awful. It's D foot loose. Foot loose.

Got a cut loose. Oh, all right. Well, Tom, it means Cecil wrote pile of horses so good. Ah! Ah! All right, I'm cheese heath this week. Game on. All right.

Well, for Noah, Tom, Cecil, and Heath, I'm Eli Bosnick. Thank you for hanging out with us today. We'll be back next week, and for Noah, Tom, Cecil and Heath, I'm Eli Bosnick. Thank you for hanging out with us today. We'll be back next week and by then he will be an expert on something else. Between now and then you can listen to our podcasts on your podcast player. And you can watch Cecil on YouTube where he teaches you how to spedge cock a turkey this week. Well, not this week, a couple weeks ago. A week at this week. Well, not this week. A couple weeks ago. A week. A week. A week.

A week. A week. A week. A week. A week. A week. A week. A week. A week. A week.

A week. A week. A week. A week. A week. A week. A week. A week. A week. A week. A week. A week. A week.

A week. A week. A week. A week. A week. A week. A week. A week. A week. A week. Check out past episodes, connect with us on social media, or check the show notes. Be sure to check out citationpod.com.