Self-righting systems and tillers certainly made our steering ropes and everyone-lean-to-one-side-and-hope-for-the-best capsize-rerighting techniques seem like evolutionary dead ends by comparison, but we were determined to suffer as Shackleton had, and suffer we would.
Fuchs’s team’s effort was a great one, but on approaching South Georgia in stormy weather and with ice in the water, they opted to be towed into King Haakon Bay. By doing so they compromised the unsupported nature of their attempt, particularly as landing at South Georgia is one of the most difficult elements of the whole journey. We couldn’t be sure the same thing wouldn’t happen to us, as it would likely come down to luck with the weather. And none of us could control that.
Ironically, in among the difficulties of organizing the expedition, building a replica James Caird was, relatively speaking, the easy bit, particularly with the support of the James Caird Society and the existence of the original Caird at Dulwich College. Her life since her famous journey had not been a straightforward one. She had been brought back to England in 1919 and on Shackleton’s death in 1922 was gifted to the college by John Quiller Rowett, Shackleton’s friend and the sponsor of the Quest expedition on which he died. Almost destroyed by a bomb in 1944, the Caird remained at the school barring a period from 1967 to 1985 when she was displayed and underwent restoration at the National Maritime Museum in Greenwich.
The Sir Ernest Shackleton
Trevor Potts, 1994
Watercolor by Seb Coulthard
Courtesy of Seb Coulthard
The Tom Crean
Paddy Barry, 1997
Watercolor by Seb Coulthard
Courtesy of Seb Coulthard
The James Caird II
Arved Fuchs, 2000
Watercolor by Seb Coulthard
Courtesy of Seb Coulthard
The Alexandra Shackleton
Tim Jarvis, 2013
Watercolor by Seb Coulthard
Courtesy of Seb Coulthard
Young pretenders: the four replica Cairds to have attempted the journey since Shackleton’s original.
Courtesy of Seb Coulthard
Putting the boat together, clockwise from top left: Les Flack at work on the prow; great white hunters Les Flack and David Philips; master craftsman Nat Wilson working on the Alexandra Shackleton at a traditional boat show.
Courtesy of Tim Jarvis
Zaz called me in 2008, excited at having met Nat Wilson, traditional boatbuilder extraordinaire, at the London Boat Show. She insisted I come meet him the next day and I liked him immediately. Passionate about traditional boats and with the air of someone who knew exactly what he was doing, Nat offered the free services of his college, the International Boatbuilding Training College (IBTC) in Lowestoft, Suffolk. All I needed to do was pay for the materials. Coming from one of England’s best traditional boatbuilders, this was an offer I gladly accepted. Zaz asked me what the boat should be called. “I thought the Alexandra Shackleton,” I said. “If you’re comfortable with that.” She certainly was.
Things progressed effortlessly and the boat was constructed on a trailer that allowed her to appear at various boat shows, where she was worked on in real time in front of fascinated onlookers. Funded by small contributions from individuals captivated by the Shackleton story, she represented tangible evidence that the expedition was on track and progressing well, although that was actually far from the truth. I went to view her a few times during 2009, on one occasion seeing two of Nat’s master craftsmen grinning like children as they proudly posed for a photograph by the curved prow and sternposts as if holding the ivory tusks of a rogue elephant. “As you can see, there’s great enthusiasm for the project,” whispered Nat.
Seb Coulthard had joined the team in August 2010 after Calista Lucy of Dulwich College and the James Caird Society suggested he write to me to apply formally. Because funds were tight and I needed to test the mettle of any applicants, I told him about the need for people to bring either sponsorship money or personal contributions to the table. Four months and 126 letters later, Seb secured a donation of £20,000 that arrived from a corporate backer who wished to remain anonymous. Seb cleared a final hurdle when we finally met at Zaz’s home on March 31, 2011. I was impressed by what I saw: the attention to detail, enthusiasm, and problem-solving ability he applied as a petty officer in the Royal Navy retrofitting Lynx helicopters for different theaters of combat could, I thought, equally be applied to retrofitting a period boat. If he could keep a helicopter in the air, by some convoluted logic I felt he could keep a replica boat afloat on the ocean. Earnest and young but articulate and passionate about Shackleton, Seb convinced me he could project-manage the Alexandra Shackleton into existence.
Seb immediately showed his worth. The Fleet Air Arm (the Royal Navy’s air branch) had formerly operated a helicopter base at what was now John Dean and Richard Reddyhoff’s Portland marina, the soon-to-be-home of the London Olympics sailing competition. Seb asked if we could use the marina to retrofit and sea-trial the Alexandra Shackleton. Richard immediately agreed to let us stay and use the facilities gratis for as long as required—a very generous gesture. A near miss between the Alexandra Shackleton and the Austrian sailing team out on the course a few months later perhaps wasn’t the way to repay his confidence!
When a crowd gathered to welcome the Alexandra Shackleton in Portsmouth on November 7, 2011, a salty old soul, Philip Rose-Taylor, was one of the fascinated onlookers. Amazed that we were going to try to re-enact Shackleton’s voyage, he introduced himself to Seb. Philip was a youthful sixty-nine-year-old, with torn-sail hair the product of a hard life spent at sea, and one of the UK’s last traditional sailmakers.
Seb’s fundraising efforts supplemented what I’d raised and immediately enabled Philip to produce a full set of sails and rigging for the boat. Like maritime detectives, the unlikely duo visited the Caird at Dulwich College. They designed a jib and mainsails and were able to model the mizzen sails on the Caird’s mizzen, the only sail to have survived. Every handmade stitch was perfect and used authentic materials from the period, including flax canvas, flax twine, and Manila rope. Amid the loneliness of planning all the other aspects of the expedition it was a real tonic for me to hear Seb talk about Philip’s expertise in replicating the flat seams, galvanized thimbles, and Manila bolt ropes that Shackleton had on the original Caird. I found their enthusiasm contagious.
In January 2012, Zaz and Seb combined forces to borrow, beg, or steal equipment and boat fittings from suppliers at the London Boat Show. A great double act, they left with a haul that included safety equipment and free training from Ocean Safety, fenders from Compass Marine, and assorted classic-boat fittings such as oarlocks, brass pumps, mushroom vents, and ring bolts from Davey & Co. Seb’s car became a mobile workshop, as full to the gunwales as the Alexandra Shackleton would surely become, and he and his navy colleagues worked long into the winter nights under fluorescent lights, amid overpowering paint, adhesive, and sealant fumes to get the boat ready.
The ribs of the Alexandra Shackleton.
Courtesy