I Will Find a Way or Fake One

Many years ago, in the silly bin of a small country general store in southern Ontario, I found a ridiculous brass plaque that had a look of authenticity.

I purchased it and eventually screwed it to the outside wall of my house in Iqaluit, just to the left of the main door. Looking very historical and authoritative, it proclaims to bemused visitors: ON THIS SITE IN 1897 NOTHING HAPPENED.

Were there an actual pole to nail something to at the North Pole, one could create a similar plaque to mark a supposed anniversary coming up shortly. The plaque would read:

ON THIS SITE ON APRIL 6, 1909 NOTHING HAPPENED.

April 6, 2009 is turning out to be a much less-hyped anniversary than expected. This is totally appropriate as it is the hundredth anniversary of a non-event – sort of a "noniversary," if I may coin a word to describe the anniversaries of hoaxes, deceptions and occasional self-delusions on the part of explorers.

The date is, of course, the hundredth "noniversary" of Robert Peary's famous "discovery" of the North Pole.

Peary's story is well-known. His single-minded 18-year quest dominated the lives of the Polar Inuit of north-western Greenland, whom he recruited as assistants. One can't really call them "guides" since they had never been to the elusive destination before.

In 1891-2 he led an expedition that wintered and explored northern Greenland. From 1893 to 1895 another expedition accomplished little but did succeed in taking two meteorites – a source of iron that the Inuit had used for making tools – to New York.

A summer voyage in 1896 accomplished nothing, but a voyage the following summer brought the largest of the meteorites back to New York where Peary, through circuitous channels, eventually pocketed $50,000 for it, all the while appearing as a generous donor to the American Museum of Natural History.

In the longest expedition, Peary passed four consecutive winters in the Far North, between 1898 and 1902, and made a serious attempt on the North Pole, but was unsuccessful. An over-wintering expedition in 1905-06 was similarly unsuccessful.

Finally, in 1908 Peary left the U.S. on his final expedition. After wintering on the north coast of Ellesmere Island, he and a number of support parties left in late winter for the Pole.

Successive support parties were sent back, until only one group remained, that of the ship's captain, Bob Bartlett. Eventually Peary sent Bartlett back, leaving Peary to continue with his black assistant, Matthew Henson and four Inuit.

Peary claimed to have reached the Pole on April 6, 1909. His diary entry for the following day was actually written some time later while he was preparing his notes for publication. He wrote, "The Pole at last! The prize of 3 centuries, my dream and ambition for 23 years. Mine at last…"

His claim has been disputed for the past century. His party of six included no-one (including Peary) trained in navigation. Ironically, Bartlett, whom he had sent back to Cape Columbia, was a competent navigator and could have verified Peary's claims.

But Bartlett also could have refuted them if, as many suspect, Peary had not reached the Pole. Suspicious too is the fact that once Bartlett had been sent back, Peary's claimed distances and speeds became incredible, almost three times what he had accomplished earlier.

Peary described an almost straight-line dash to the Pole. This was contradicted by Henson's account of many detours to avoid open leads of water and pressure ridges of ice. Strange, too, was his behaviour on his return to his ship, the Roosevelt, iced in at Cape Columbia. He did not announce his achievement immediately, as one would expect of a man who had devoted so many years to the attainment of a single goal.

When asked point-blank by Dr. Goodsell, Peary simply replied, "I have not been altogether unsuccessful." Modest words from a man never known for modesty.

The explorer, Wally Herbert, who travelled to the Pole by dog sled, concluded that Peary missed the Pole by at least 30 miles. Close, but not close enough.

Peary's motto was, "I will find a way or make one." Even this was not original, having been appropriated from the Carthaginian military tactician, Hannibal, who said, when faced with the task of crossing the Alps, "We will either find a way or make one."

Given the scandal and controversy that have surrounded Robert Peary's dubious claims for a century, he might better have said, "I will find a way or fake one."

Taissumani recounts a specific event of historic interest. Kenn Harper is a historian, writer and linguist who lives in Iqaluit. Feedback? Send your comments and questions to kennharper@hotmail.com.