Book Review: The Worst Journey in the World

[Editorial Note: This review was originally written in 2002]

In one of the essays in "Fresh Air Fiend", Paul Theroux writes that when people ask him to name his own favourite travel book, his answer is almost invariably "The Worst Journey in the World". Theroux goes on to state that "the book goes in and out of print, but it is indestructible, because it is a masterpiece". With a recommendation like that, how could I not snap up the book the instant I saw it, at Landmark in Kolkata a few summers ago? And I'm glad I did; this is now my favourite travel book as well, and one of the best books I've ever read in any genre of writing: I cannot recommend it highly enough.

At 24, Apsley Cherry-Garrard was the youngest member of Scott's ill-fated expedition to the South Pole. He was an unlikely explorer: slight in build, nearsighted to the point of blindness, and painfully shy. Yet he made up for his physical failings with a combination of enthusiasm, selflessness and gritty determination that won the respect of the rest of the expedition; it was a bitter blow to him to be left out of the party chosen to make the final race to the Pole. But much worse was to come. Cherry led the dog team that went out to search for Scott's missing party, and he was forced to turn back (by bad weather and low rations) just two miles away from where (unknown to him) Scott and his friends lay helpless and snowed in. It was a decision that would haunt Cherry for the rest of his life, and it colours every page of his book.

The 'worst journey' of the title, though, came much earlier; it refers to 'the winter journey', a harrowing trip across the Antarctic glacier in the depths of the polar winter to retrieve eggs from the nest of the Emperor penguin. Along with Scott's second-in-command Edward Wilson and the seemingly indestructible Henry 'Birdie' Bowers, Cherry lugged 350kg of food and supplies hundreds of miles across rock and ice, in temperatures reaching -75 C and amid almost total darkness. This was Cherry's finest hour, a feat of superhuman endurance and staggering courage, and one which brought out the very best in this modest and unassuming man (though typically, he does not dwell on his own deeds). Yet it was also this journey that broke him; it rendered him unfit for the more glamorous dash to the pole, and left him sickly and pensive for the rest of his days.

Mind you, there's a lot more to the book than journeys across the ice-pack, fascinating as they are. Cherry describes the sea voyage to Antarctica, the setting up of the expedition's base camp, the inhospitable yet weirdly beautiful scenery, the routines of life in the frozen winter darkness, and the characters of the men he travelled with, all in vivid, captivating detail. His prose is graceful and unadorned, yet its matter-of-fact recounting of minor details is more moving than any amount of sensationalism could be. There's never any striving for unnecessary effect, and the author's idealism and admiration for his companions shine through every word.

Most of all, this is a book about heroism. There's really no other way to put it. The members of Scott's doomed group were woefully unprepared and underequipped for the harshness of the Antarctic winter (remember, this was nearly a hundred years ago, before the widespread adoption of such vital aids to polar exploration as plastics, radio and the internal combustion engine). Yet even in the face of utter catastrophe they strove manfully on, displaying extraordinary amounts of courage, self-sacrifice and devotion to duty. They were doomed, but they went to their deaths with fortitude and dignity. "The Worst Journey in the World" is a fitting memorial to their bravery.

Postscript: The same book, as reviewed by my friend G:

Look Thomas. It's a good book and all, I'm not saying it isn't, but honestly, did it need to be 600 pages long? Especially since every page is identical. You can open the book anywhere and read the same stuff. "Very cold today. Smith's fingers fell off. Two dogs died." Bah, I say.