The Quest arrives at the whaling station of Grytviken on
South Georgia Island on Jan. 4, 1922, six years after all the men of the Endurance were rescued.
Ernest Shackleton is greeted warmly by his friend the station manager
and they spend the day revisiting favorite sites around the station.
That evening, Shackleton dines aboard the Quest and goes to
bed. At two in the morning, Shackleton
summons his friend Alexander Macklin, a surgeon, to his cabin.
Macklin is concerned about The Boss’s health and notices the cold in the
cabin. He leaves and returns with a heavy blanket which he tucks around
Shackleton.
Macklin remains and talks with Shackleton, carefully suggesting that
perhaps he should take it easy for a while.
“You are always wanting me to give up something,” replies
Shackleton “What do you want me to give
up now?” Suddenly a massive heart attack
hits and he dies shortly before 3 a.m.
He is 47 years old.
He is 47 years old.
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| Sir Ernest Shackleton |
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Ten days previously in this voyage.
The Fram moves slowly into East Cumberland Bay on the eastern
coast of South Georgia Island and drops anchor in the pristine water. Sunlight glints off the frothy wake of a Polarcirkle
boat as it takes me to land on a beautiful and peaceful day in this remote
place.
I step out of the boat onto a small rocky beach and watch the seals and penguins nearby.
Then I walk up a gentle rise of low grass punctuated with mounds of
tussock grass and pass through an opening in an immaculate white fence. I carefully watch where I’m stepping as I
proceed to the far side of this small enclosure and stop at a stone monolith
several feet high.
Before me is the final resting place of Ernest Shackleton, explorer,
author, and leader extraordinaire of men. Though
most of the graves here are oriented east, Shackleton's is oriented
south towards Antarctica. The remains of Frank Wild, his devoted right
hand man in life, are buried at Shackleton’s right.
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| The Scottish granite marker, topped with the mariner's star. |
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| Whaler's church at Grytviken |
It is customary for visitors to this remote and stunningly
beautiful place to pause here and pay their respects to the man who was
arguably the last man of the heroic age of explorers. It is also customary to dribble a shot of
Scotch whisky over Shackleton’s grave, which was his favorite drink.
A few years ago, five cases of Scotch were discovered buried
under the hut Shackleton built in Antarctica for his Nimrod expedition. After great effort by the distiller, the whisky’s
flavor was duplicated and a bottle sold
for £100, or about
$160 a bottle. Even the glass maker took
pains to make the bottle look as if had been made a century ago.
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| The whaler's cemetery can be seen to the upper right of the small white building with the red roof. |
I turn around and look at Shackleton’s final resting place. Tall
mountains, slowly losing their snowy duvets, sparkle in the sunshine of early austral
summer.
Before me, a freshly- painted
black and white expedition ship bobs at anchor as little orange boats deliver visitors
to the beach.
To my left are the carefully preserved remains of the
Grytviken whaling station, a monument to a bygone era. The seals and whales and penguins that once were slaughtered here for their oil are now protected. Inside a small museum building is a replica of
the James Caird.
Rising
above the vats and conveyors and rusting ruins of whaling boats is the steeple of a
white church where a service was held for Shackleton. After Wild’s grave was located a few years ago, and his
remains transported to South Georgia, another service was held in the church
for him.
Elephant and fur seals haul out on the beaches and slumber
unmolested. Three King penguins waddle down from a snow
patch to peer at the newcomers in blue parkas.
This is a peaceful and lovely place. It's a fine place for eternal rest.
