1912 (27 page)

Although the limits of Antarctica were still hazy at best, this had not stopped scientists around the world continuing to theorise. Some, like Nansen, considered Antarctica to be a number of ice-covered islands. Others, among them Shackleton, thought Antarctica was a single landmass.

A third view was championed by Friedrich Albert Penck, a colossus in German science who held the prestigious Chair of Geography at Berlin University. To Penck, there was no doubt a continent lay in the south; but it was divided in two by a frozen strait, of which the Weddell and Ross seas formed the extreme ends. Antarctica was made up of two large landmasses, east and west.

Penck's idea depended on what the known Antarctic mountain chains did in the interior. Before 1912 it was fairly clear that what we now know as the Antarctic Peninsula was a geological continuation of the South American Andes. The question was whether the Antarctic Andes joined up with those in Victoria Land, or went elsewhere—and if they did not connect, might Bruce's Coats Land be joined in some way? Penck made an enticing case for two continental-sized landmasses.

Filchner was intrigued and resolved to test the idea, travelling via the South Geographic Pole. Unlike the Norwegians and Japanese, however, Filchner was determined to gain as much knowledge as possible on the journey to Antarctica. Major questions remained about the surrounding regions. How did the various oceans in the south link up—if at all—and what effect did this have on the world's climate? Scientific observations would start from day one of the voyage. Filchner approached the Berlin Geographical Society in 1909, and received a positive response. Penck was so enthusiastic that he took Filchner's plan to the public in March 1910.

Filchner was not the first to lead a German expedition south. One of his renowned predecessors was Eric von Drygalski, who travelled a decade earlier. A contemporary of Scott's
Discovery
expedition, von Drygalski's
Gauss
party nobly agreed to forgo McMurdo Sound and investigate an unknown part of the East Antarctic coastline, near where the American Charles Wilkes had claimed to have been sixty years before. Aiming to be the first to the South Magnetic Pole, the Germans never made it. Reaching the edge of the Antarctic in January 1902, the
Gauss
became locked in sea ice.

The Germans were prepared for winter. Drawing on the local wildlife—especially penguins, as both food and fuel—they set about making as much of the situation as possible. All manner of scientific observations of the elements were made, carefully arranged in advance to be directly comparable to Scott's. Alongside these efforts a hot-air balloon was sent aloft and, reaching a height of nearly five hundred metres, von Drygalski saw what appeared to be ice-free land to the south. Sledging there, the Germans discovered an extinct volcano and ramparts of rubble that spoke of an ice sheet considerably larger than today's.

Though the summer sun returned, the ice remained stubbornly opposed to releasing the
Gauss
, and no amount of dynamite would free the vessel. Only when ashes from the ship's boilers were put on the ice did the surface warm and weaken. Although the Germans had been frustrated in their efforts to reach a high latitude, they could at least show that in the south Indian Ocean there did indeed exist land—to which they attached the moniker Kaiser Wilhelm II Land. They returned home to international acclaim.

Filchner sought to repeat the success of von Drygalski with an equally well-organised and well-equipped expedition. Ambitiously, he wanted the Germans to work in an entirely different part of the Antarctic, addressing a great scientific question while also claiming the South Geographic Pole for his nation.

A common theme of Antarctic expeditions is a shortage of funds, and Filchner's was no exception. The original proposal for two ships came in at a cost of two million mark. With limited funds from the outset, the expedition was looking decidedly rocky. Where others gave up on their Antarctic ambitions, though, Filchner would prove to be considerably more imaginative in raising money.

In early 1910 the expedition organisers hosted a formal dinner for the Kaiser, with the aim of gaining royal approval. To one outside observer, the German monarch was not impressed. ‘So, you want to go to the South Pole?' he reportedly said. ‘Wait, if you please, till Zeppelin gets that far with his airship. He'll do in a couple of days what takes you three years. You will not make this expedition—understood?'

Filchner is said to have replied, ‘Majesty, I have resolved already to lead the expedition'—and the Kaiser turned his back and left the hall. Afterwards Filchner was diplomatic about the exchange, remarking that the Kaiser listened ‘benevolently' to his plans before turning him down.

The day after his tête-à-tête with the Kaiser, Filchner travelled to Munich for an audience with Prince Regent Luitpold of Bavaria. At the time Luitpold was effectively ruler of Bavaria, in place of his nephews Ludwig II and Otto, who were considered too mentally incapacitated to fulfil their formal roles. Luitpold presided over a cultural renaissance in central Europe, with Munich the capital. He was considerably more excited by the prospect of a German Antarctic expedition and agreed to assume the role of ‘honorary patron'.

The expedition's plans were scaled back to one ship, costing 1.1 million mark. A national committee was set up and fundraising efforts were re-energised. One of the most successful was a public lottery. By the following year Filchner had his money: the Germans had the best funded expedition of 1912.

Keen to maximise scientific effort and avoid duplication on the ground, the German leader worked hard to develop research links and reassure other national groups heading south. Leaders of these efforts responded in kind, freely giving advice on planning and equipment—even those who were in direct competition for the South Geographic Pole. Shackleton was particularly keen to be involved and visited Germany, giving public lectures and advising on the ice-strengthening of the expedition vessel, the
Deutschland
. Less usefully, Shackleton also passed on Jackson's obsession with horses; Filchner was so enthused that he immediately went out and bought a number from northeast China to complement his Greenland dogs.

The media were aware of the rights Scott and Bruce might claim for their attempts on the South Geographic Pole. By focusing on the other side of the Antarctic, Filchner hoped to avoid any misunderstanding with the British explorers, much as von Drygalski had done. He need not have worried. Filchner travelled to meet the two leaders in the spring of 1910 and found both remarkably relaxed about this new European expedition.

In Edinburgh, Filchner agreed to work west of Coats Land and leave the region east to Bruce's proposed Scottish expedition. The Scot's plans were similar to Filchner's and included an extensive oceanographic survey of the Weddell Sea, from where he intended to cross to the Ross Sea. Bruce, though, believed Penck to be wrong and argued that the mountain range of Victoria Land continued across to the Antarctic Andes. While waiting on funding that never came, Bruce generously gave the German leader ideas for research and equipment to use while at sea.

The meeting in London was arguably even more successful. Scott was keen to share ideas, equipment—including the latest plans for motorised sledges—and even men with the German expedition. Scott was later quoted as saying, ‘Lieutenant Filchner and I have agreed, as far as possible, to work our scientific programme in unison.' As a final goodwill gesture, Scott invited Filchner to the official British Antarctic Expedition farewell at Waterloo station on 16 July.

Returning to Germany with an expedition that was now gathering serious momentum, Filchner set about gaining polar experience. He wanted to test his men and equipment—including the ponies—on icy mountain passes, and soon headed off to the Arctic archipelago of Svalbard. Filchner found the shipping space he had bought for transporting his ponies north was too small and the animals had to be sold en route, forcing him to fall back on the first part of his motto, ‘Optimist in execution, pessimist in preparation.'

Once there, he found the conditions were considerably worse than anticipated, and the men had to hunker down for longer than planned, cut off from the rest of the world—leading to news reports they had perished. And yet there were positives: the men survived and the equipment seemed up to the task.

When news of the German expedition south was announced, there was a flood of applications. Filchner could pick from an impressive list of scientists: there was a German astronomer, Erich Przybyllok; an Austrian biologist, Felix König; and the rising star of German oceanography, Wilhelm Brennecke. Other applicants were less welcome; some were arguably outrageous. One of the most bizarre was a former Tibetan expedition ‘colleague', Albert Tafel, who had first
approached Penck about joining the expedition. Tafel seems to have been Filchner's nemesis.

There had been problems almost from the start of their travels in Tibet. Tafel, from all accounts an angry man, seemed keen to fight the locals whenever a problem flared, and Filchner reportedly spent a considerable time talking him down, so that the two men could pass along peacefully. On their return to Germany, the junior man had accused the expedition leader of cowardice and public flatulence, and openly questioned the authenticity of his maps. Now here he was asking to join the Antarctic expedition and threatening to undermine it from afar if refused. Filchner was not having any of it. Tafel's application was rejected.

Shortly after, rumours started circulating about the expedition and its leader, many harking back to Filchner's trips in Asia. Threats and counter-threats followed, many involving the ship's captain for the German expedition, Richard Vahsel. On paper Vahsel seemed a good appointment. He had been second officer on the
Gauss
, giving him invaluable Antarctic experience, which few other German naval captains possessed. On learning of the appointment, however, the
Gauss
's former captain, Commodore Ruser, wrote to warn Filchner: Vahsel was trouble.

The expedition committee insisted on Vahsel and, further confusing matters, made the
Deutschland
fly under the Imperial Navy flag. The captain was in charge of the vessel and the lives on board while at sea: Filchner had suddenly lost absolute leadership of the expedition. With his appointment confirmed, Vahsel soon started throwing his weight about, threatening to put Filchner ‘in irons' during the voyage if he felt it necessary. The early promise of success in the south was fast disappearing.

Deciding to ignore his problems, Filchner instead concentrated on what he could control: the expedition's plans in Antarctica. He reasoned that it would be easiest to answer the question of a two-part Antarctica by travelling over the Great Ice Barrier, and could not understand why the British or Norwegians were not tackling the issue. When he heard the Japanese were also in the Ross Sea, Filchner felt the last thing needed was another expedition operating there. Instead he bravely decided to try somewhere different: the Weddell Sea.