Cover image for Cherry : a life of Apsley Cherry-Garrard
Cherry : a life of Apsley Cherry-Garrard
Wheeler, Sara.
Personal Author:
First U.S. edition.
Publication Information:
New York : Random House, [2002]

Physical Description:
xii, 353 pages, 16 unnumbered pages of plates : illustrations, maps ; 24 cm
General Note:
Originally published: 2001.
Program Information:
Accelerated Reader AR UG 9.1 26.0 69585.
Format :


Call Number
Material Type
Home Location
Item Holds
G875.C53 W54 2002 Adult Non-Fiction Central Closed Stacks

On Order



The first authorized biography of the antarctic explorer who gave us the greatest classic of polar literature In February 1912, Apsley Cherry-Garrard drove a team of dogs 150 miles to a desolate outpost on Antarctica's rough ice shelf to meet Robert Falcon Scott and his men, who were expected to return victor-ious any day from their epic race to the South Pole. Winter was closing in, and Cherry was handicapped by brutal temperatures and diminishing light. Less than two weeks later, three dying men pitched their tent for the last time just twelve miles to the south. One was Captain Scott, the leader of the expedition. The other two, Birdie Bowers and Bill Wilson, were the closest friends Cherry had ever had. Ten months later, once the polar winter had released them from captivity, Cherry and his search party found the tent, piled with snow and pinned to the ice by his friends' corpses. It was a tragedy that would rever-berate around the world and inspire Cherry to write his masterpiece, The Worst Journey in the World, which recently topped National Geographic's list of the 100 greatest adventure books of all time. Cherry discovered in his writing a means to work out his grief and anger, but in life these doubts and fears proved far harder to quell. As the years progressed, he struggled against depression, breakdown, and despair, and was haunted by the possibility that he alone had had the opportunity to save Scott and his friends. Sara Wheeler's Cherry is the first biography of this soul-searching explorer, written with unrestricted access to his papers and the full cooperation of his widow--who has refused all requests until now. Wheeler's biography brings to life this great hero of Antarctic exploration and gives us a glimpse of the terrible human cost of his adventures.

Reviews 2

Booklist Review

On Robert Scott's ill-fated race to be the first to reach the South Pole, Cherry-Garrard was one of the youngest members of the expedition. Despite his youth and inexperience, he was sent out to meet Scott as he returned from the Pole. Of course, Scott and his comrades froze to death only 12 miles away from Garrard and relief. Some condemned Garrard for not pushing on through a blizzard to find Scott. Although it was unlikely that he could have changed the fatal outcome, Garrard was haunted by feelings of guilt for the remainder of his life. Yet, he managed to lead a productive and exciting life as a writer and soldier. Wheeler, a journalist and travel writer, views her subject as one of the last of the adventurer heroes of the Victorian age. But he seemed unable to come to terms with the rapid political and cultural changes that shattered the certainties of the Victorian age. This biography cannot resolve his inner contradictions, but it examines the man and his times with credibility. Jay Freeman.

Publisher's Weekly Review

In a richly detailed and lyrical biography, Wheeler (Terra Incognito) traces the life of British adventurer Apsley Cherry-Garrard from his time as "a small boy with a lively imagination and a taste for snails and solitude" to his participation in Robert Scott's fateful 1911 expedition to reach the South Pole. While many have questioned and even vilified the members of Scott's voyage for everything from navet to outright blundering, Wheeler takes a sympathetic, even reverent attitude toward her subject. Cherry-Garrard unfolds as a complicated figure whose youthful quest for adventure enmeshed him in an undertaking that towered over the rest of his life. While it would be hard for any historical account to rival Cherry-Garrard's own descriptions in his memoir The Worst Journey in the World, Wheeler tells the story of the entire voyage, whereas Cherry-Garrard focused on only one part of it. Though she quotes often from his book, the passages are complemented and occasionally contradicted by the journals of other members of the trip. In this way, Wheeler supplies the little facts that truly make her story vivid, like one explorer almost being killed by a 500-pound crate of hams propelled by a blizzard wind or another suggesting a can opener to cut through Cherry-Garrard's frozen clothes. Eloquent and gripping, Wheeler goes on to chronicle Cherry-Garrard's troubled homecoming and how, through writing his book and finding love late in life, the explorer made his ultimate discovery redemption. (Apr.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved



Chapter 1 Ancestral Voices In the restless years of middle age Cherry used to sit in the bow-window of his library, turning the pages of the journals he had kept in the Antarctic three decades before. Absorbed in those far-off years, he jotted notes in the margins, as if the expedition had not yet reached its conclusion. 'All Scott's men had been altered,' he wrote crossly. ' Scott should have asked the doctors for their advice.' Beyond the trimmed lawns outside, the familiar figure of Tilbury, the head gardener, stooped over the rhododendrons. The rooks returned to their nests in the elms, briefly darkening the sky. Cherry leafed through the flimsy notebook, recalling the rippled glaciers that tumbled down Mount Erebus, their gleaming cliffs casting long blue shadows; the crunching patter of dogs on the march; the pale, shadowless light of the ice shelf and a smudgy sun wreathed in mist. 'Those first days of sledging were wonderful!' he had written. In the quiet of his library he heard again the hiss of the Primus after a long, hard day on the trail, and smelt the homely infusion of tobacco as the night sun sieved through the green cambric of the tent. He tasted the tea flavored with burnt blubber, and felt the rush of relief as tiny point of light from the kippered hut glimmered faintly in the unforgiving darkness of an Antarctic winter. 'Can we ever forget those days?' he wrote. Cherry tortured himself over his action in February 1912, when he had driven a team of dogs 150 miles south to a foot depot to wait for Captain Scott and his four companions; they were expected to return from the Pole at any day. Winter was closing in and Cherry was navigating for the first time in his life, desperately handicapped by short sight, brutal temperatures and diminishing light. He reached the foot depot with his Russian dogdriver, and, following instructions, they stopped, pinned down in a tiny tent in hundreds of miles of opaque, swirling drift. They could not go on: they had no dog food to spare. Cherry remembered straining his eyes in the milky light of the Great Ice Barrier, looking for men who never came. One night he was so sure he could see figured approaching that he had reached for his boots and set out to meet them. The truth was that he could have gone on. He could have pressed on through the blizzard, killing a dog at a time to feed the others. He had been ordered to spare the dogs, but, as he had once written, 'In this sort of life orders have to be elastic.' If he had killed the dogs, and if he had journeyed just twelve-and-a-half miles further, there was a tiny chance that he might have stumbled on a small pyramid tent in which three men were dying. One was Captain Scott. The other two were Birdie Bowers and Bill Wilson, the closest friends Cherry had ever had. It was Bill who had got him onto the expedition; Bill who had stood in for his dead father; Bill who had taught him the things he came to think were most important. In death and in life, Bill as never far from Cherry's mind. 'If you simply knew him," he wrote of his mentor, 'you could not like him: you simply had to love him.' When, having missed Scott and the others, he got back to the hut that was their Antarctic base, Cherry dreamt that his friends walked in. Almost two decades later he noted in the margin of his polar journal, 'My relief was so intense that I can remember waking up to the disappointment even now.' Ten months after the journey to the food depot Cherry and a search party found the tent, piled with snow and weighted to the ice by three mottled corpses. He went through Bill's pockets, collecting the contents for his widow. The body was hard, like stone. After prayers, they left the three men side by side in their sleeping bags, removing the bamboo tent poles and collapsing the cambric over them. The sun was dipping low over the Pole, the Barrier almost in shadow, and the sky was a mass of iridescent cloud, dark against gold and emerald. Cherry said it was a grave which kings must envy. From that day, he was obsessed by the thought that he might have saved them. 'If we [he and the Russian dog-driver] had traveled on for a day and a half,' he wrote, 'We might have left some food and oil on one of the cairns, hoping that they would see it.' It was a devastating realization. 'But we never dreamed that they were in great want. It will always to the end of my life be a great sorrow to me that we did not do this." Excerpted from Cherry: A Life of Apsley Cherry-Garrard by Sara Wheeler All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.