Saved by Wonder: The Ziegler Polar Expedition and the Aurora Borealis
By Maria Popova
In August 1905, while Mina Hubbard was mapping Labrador in her pioneering expedition, the Brooklyn Eagle reported one of the most “remarkable exploits in Arctic work” — a relief expedition to rescue the American explorer Anthony Fiala and his crew, who had been stranded in the icy expanse for nearly two years, attempting to reach the North Pole.
Bankrolled by the American industrialist William Ziegler, who had made his fortune on baking powder and vowed to spend it on funding as many efforts as it takes to reach the North Pole, Fiala’s three-masted ship was crushed by polar ice just four months after sailing from Norway. Although the America could no longer sail, the ice was so think that the ship didn’t sink but froze in place.

The men scrambled to salvage the cargo, but when another storm finally swallowed the wreck in January, most of their provisions and coal vanished with it.
They fled onto the ice cap, built a camp, and undertook the daily task of survival, but not before erecting an observatory and setting up all of their scientific instruments.
The days bled into weeks, into months, into seasons as they kept hoping for rescue. The few remaining provisions ran out. They subsisted on walrus and bear. All the while, they kept making observations. It kept their spirits from sinking, this stubborn, steadfast work of painting a portrait of that alien world in numbers and figures in order to reveal the full face of this one.
In what seems like a miracle in the history of polar exploration, only one of the thirty-five men would die in the twenty months they spent as captives of the ice.

Although their time in the Arctic was relegated to the sidelines of history as a failed expedition by the measure of its patron’s stated goal of reaching the North Pole, I see it as a triumph of both science and the human spirit. While conquest is a finite game, played for the pleasure of the win, curiosity is an infinite game, played for the pleasure of finding things out, in Richard Feynman’s lovely phrase. Exploration in the service of learning is always far greater and more enduring than exploration in the service of at staking a flag in the name of a potentate, for the task of knowledge is unfinishable and endlessly rewarding. (“The world of learning is so broad, and the human soul is so limited in power!” wrote the pioneering astronomer Maria Mitchell the year Anthony Fiala was born. “We reach forth and strain every nerve, but we seize only a bit of the curtain that hides the infinite from us.”)
Two years after their rescue, the expedition’s chief scientist — William J. Peters, whose groundbreaking studies of geomagnetism shaped the present understanding of Earth’s magnetosphere — published a 630-page report of their scientific findings. Fiala himself wrote the introduction, urging the reader to imagine the conditions, unimaginable to most of us, under which the work was done — a beckoning that feels like a miniature manifesto for the animating spirit of science:
The difficulties encountered in the execution of work in the Polar Regions must be experienced in order to be properly appreciated. Storms are frequent in the winter, and observers, in going to and from observatories and instrument shelters, have often to crawl upon hands and knees in the face of high winds, whirling snow particles, low temperatures, and in the darkness of winter. The hearty and unselfish cooperation of all concerned is amply indicated by the execution of the great amount of detail work that is reported upon in this volume.
Among the endless tables of astronomical, meteorological, and tidal data is a series of meticulous observations of the aurora borealis spanning several months — a landmark contribution to the poetic science of our planet’s most magical phenomenon. Three of the nights — December 23, 1903, January 2, 1904, and January 23, 1904 — appear as a series of breathtaking plates that capture both the drama and its subtlety of the Northern Lights.





Couple with Frederick Cook’s moving account of surviving the icy captivity of the other pole, then revisit the science of how the aurora borealis casts its spell.







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