Page 249 - The Secret Museum
P. 249

THIS  BIG,  FLUFFY  SUIT  BELONGED  to  Sir  Wally  Herbert  –  the  first  man  officially  to

          walk to the North Pole. Behind it, on the other side of the display case, is a miniature
          version, a tiny girl’s snowsuit that belonged to Wally Herbert’s daughter, Kari, who
          lived with her parents in an Inuit family for several years when she was young. The
          snowsuits  are  the  only  artefacts  belonging  to  Wally  and  Kari  Herbert  on  display.
          Wally’s photographs, maps, drawings and the wooden sledge that took him and his
          crew, with their supplies, to the North Pole, pulled by 15 dogs, are in the vault of the

          museum. The museum would love to exhibit the sledge. ‘It’s one of our treasures,’
          Kay tells me, ‘but we just don’t have the space.’

              The sledge lives, wrapped in plastic, on a shelf in Museum Store A, which
          contains piles of polar kit: binoculars, scissors, tools for measuring sunshine, a bag
          of arrows made by Arctic tribesman – even a pair of string underpants (no one is
          quite sure where they came from). It is on a bottom shelf because it takes six strong
          men to lift it. On Wally’s expedition to the North Pole, it would have been piled high
          with provisions, attached to a pack of dogs and pulled across the snow and ice.

          Sometimes one of the team would catch a lift on it – standing on it like you would
          catch a lift on a trolley in an airport or supermarket – and ride northwards.

              Wally Herbert became a polar explorer because of what happened one rainy day
          when he was 20 years old: ‘I was sitting in a bus; my raincoat was soaking wet. [The
          bus] lurched and a newspaper fell off the luggage rack smack into my lap.’ The
          newspaper landed open at a page that had an advert for team members to join an
          expedition to Antarctica.

              The word ‘expedition’ touched the romantic in him. He got a place on the trip …
          and then on another one, then another. Over the 50 years he worked in the polar
          regions, where he travelled over 37,000 kilometres, mapping vast swathes of the

          snowy waste and painting the scenery.

              The most famous of these travels is his North Pole adventure, in which he led his
          team, with this sledge, on the first surface crossing of the Arctic Ocean by its longest
          axis from Canada, to Svalbard and to the North Pole, via the alarmingly named Pole
          of Inaccessibility.

              It was a 15-month journey of around 6,000 kilometres, which has never been
          repeated. In the winter of 1966–67, in preparation for the expedition, he and two
          team mates lived with the Inuit in Greenland for four months then travelled 2,414
          kilometres by dog sledge to Canada. At the end of Wally’s stay, the Inuit group he

          lived with pinned a map to the door of his hut, marked with all the places Wally was
          most likely to die.

              Wally planned it all perfectly, including delivery of pipe tobacco all along the
          route. However, he liked to be led by intuition and would sometimes set off in a
          direction in the morning based on the dreams he had had the previous night. He took
          lots of photographs and drew maps en route. Reaching the North Pole was a
          remarkable achievement. Sir Ranulph Fiennes described him as ‘the greatest polar
   244   245   246   247   248   249   250   251   252   253   254