A glance at Bobinson’s blog reminded me of something I’d missed; Ernest Shackleton’s birthday. Shackleton is one of the few figures in adventure and exploration that I can say is a genuine hero to me, not because of where he went in the world and not because it’s British way to applaud failure, but because the ultimate goal of his most famous journey, Imperial Trans-Antarctic Expedition, was changed from taking a first in crossing Antarctica to saving the lives of everyone in the expedition when it all went the wrongest it’s possible to go.
Today it’s all about painting past glories a modern (sponsors) colour, fabricated stunts for product adverts and it all means nothing to me.
Anyway, as I’m on the office computer I went looking for some old photies that the same memory jog had brought to the surface and I found the ones from back in ’07 when me and Joycee has a wee break around Lochaber for our anniversary. I also new that Holly was on the way before Joycee did on that trip. Men aren’t daft, we know stuff, we’re deeper and more sensitive to all that’s around us than rumour has it, it’s secret weapon of sorts, so don’t let on.
There was a Shackleton exhibition on in Ft Bill while we were up there showing Frank Hurley’s original photographs from the Antarctic trip (see above )which have stayed fresh in my mind ever since (indeed I’ve probably blogged this before), it just pulled me in heart and soul. The cafe did that too if I remember correctly.
The boat outside was a replica of the James Caird, the lifeboat which took six of the stranded expedition to South Georgia to reach help. So odd that such an unassuming litte craft completed one of the greatest boat journeys ever made.