Reykjavík Grapevine - 10.03.2017, Page 58

LEMÚRINN
That Time an
Icelandic Linguist
(Almost) Rescued a
British Stockbroker
Stuck on the Green-
land Ice Cap
Words Vera Illugadóttir Photos Scott Polar Institute

The past was a simpler time, back
when any young Briton could em-
bark on daring expeditions to far-
flung locales in the name of science,
progress, and the British Empire
(provided he had enough funds).
That’s exactly what fourteen
adventurous young men did in
1930, heading to Greenland with
the aim of improving maps of the
island’s coastline and gathering
climate data in order to find a way
of flying straight over Greenland,
shortening considerably the route
from Canada to Europe.
The members of the “British
Arctic Air Route Expedition,” were
all in their early to mid twenties.
None had much experience of po-
lar exploration, aside from the
leader, Henry “Gino” Watkins,
who had previously been to Sval-
bard and Labrador. Nor were they
at all experienced cartographers
or meteorologists, as Watkins re-
cruited his teammates mostly from
among his old Cambridge buddies.
The expedition was sponsored
by the Royal Geographical Society,
but only symbolically. Most of the
expenses were paid by the textile
tycoon Stephen Courtauld, uncle
to one of the young explorers: Au-
gustine Courtauld, a 26-year-old
stockbroker in the City of London.
The Britons meant to set off to
Greenland in spring, but a freak
accident involving a pet lemur (it’s
a long story) meant they couldn’t
embark until July—and by the
time they had made it onto the ice
cap and set up their camp at 2500
meters altitude, it was September
and winter was nearing.
This “camp” was no more than
a measly tent in the snow, sur-
rounded by an assortment of sur-
veying equipment. The Britons’
plan was to take turns staying in the
camp over the winter, a month at a
time, but they had greatly underes-
timated the power of the Greenlan-
dic winter and one of them—Au-
gustine Courtauld—became stuck
at the camp in early December.
Courtauld barely had provi-
sions for three months, but his
fellow expedition members (who
spent the winter hunting seal in
Ammassalik on
Greenland’s south-
eastern coast) did
not worry much
about him until
April. They ven-
tured back onto the
ice cap only to find
that their camp,
and Courtauld
with it, had com-
pletely disappeared
into the snow.
They telegraphed
Courtauld’s wealthy
relatives who, un-
derstandably con-
cerned, contacted
Dr. Alexander Jóhan-
nesson, an Icelandic
professor of linguistics, and one of
Iceland’s foremost aviation pioneers.
Dr. Alexander, as he was known,
immediately set off for Greenland
in search of young Augustine. As
the Flight Company of Iceland’s
Junkers F.13 did not have sufficient
range to fly straight from Iceland
to Greenland, the Icelandic Coast
Guard’s ship Óðinn sailed with
the plane towards the pack ice be-
tween the two countries, so that it
might take off from the ice.
The rescue mission was cov-
ered extensively in the Icelandic
press, causing somewhat of a me-
dia frenzy, and Icelanders took
great pride in the prospect of their
own novice aviators heroically
rescuing a young Briton stuck in
the freezing cold on the Greenlan-
dic glacier.
Stoking Icelandic jingoism was
the fact that Courtauld’s fam-
ily did not seem to fully trust Dr.
Alexander, as they had also con-
tacted the great Swedish aviator
Albin Ahrenberg, asking for his
help. Ahrenberg, who was both
more experienced and had far bet-
ter equipment, immediately left for
Greenland as well, and the Icelandic
press covered his every move—al-
most as if this was some kind of a
race between Iceland and Sweden.
Unfortunately Icelanders had
little reason to boast, as their res-
cue mission failed completely. For
reasons unknown, the Junkers F.13’s
engine broke down only minutes
after takeoff from the ice. Dr. Alex-
ander had no choice but to make his
way home while the Icelandic press
called the whole debacle a “great
scandal” which had “disgraced Ice-
land in front of the whole world.”
The great Albin Ahrenberg, on
the other hand, safely made his
way onto the ice cap—but found
Courtauld’s camp empty. While he
was on his way, Gino
Watkins, the expe-
dition’s leader, had
himself managed to
find the camp half-
buried in the snow,
and had already
taken Courtauld
by dogsled back
to Ammassalik.
Turns out Cour-
tauld had been
cautious and had
plenty of food left.
He was rather be-
draggled after five
months alone on
the ice, but was, by
his own account,
never in any dan-
ger—having had “enough tobacco,
a selection of novels and a good
lamp.”
Upon reaching Ammassalik he
sent his worried relatives a tele-
gram, asking them to refrain from
sending out any more “hysterical
rescue missions.” He returned to
Greenland fourteen years later,
becoming the first man to scale
the island’s highest peak, the Gun-
nbjørn Fjeld.
SHARE:
gpv.is/lem03
This “camp”
was no
more than
a measly tent
in the snow,
surrounded
by an
assortment
of surveying
equipment
58 The Reykjavík Grapevine
Issue 03 — 2017
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