Roald Amundsen was a bit of a liar. Or, if you want to be nice about it, he was "tactically secretive." When he sailed the Fram out of Norway in June 1910, everyone—including his crew and his king—thought he was heading north toward the Arctic. Even his financial backers believed he was going to try for the North Pole. But Amundsen had a secret. While he was prepping, news broke that Robert Peary had already claimed the North Pole.
He pivoted. Fast.
He didn't tell a soul until they reached Madeira. Then, he sent a famous, blunt telegram to his rival, Robert Falcon Scott: "Beg leave to inform you Fram proceeding Antarctic." That single moment changed the Roald Amundsen South Pole expedition from a scientific voyage into the greatest drag race in human history.
Why the Roald Amundsen South Pole Expedition Actually Worked
Most people think Amundsen won because he was lucky. That's nonsense. He won because he was obsessed with the details that Scott ignored. Amundsen didn't just wake up and decide to be an explorer; he lived with the Netsilik Inuit in Gjoa Haven for years. He watched how they dressed. He watched how they moved. While Scott was banking on "man-hauling" and experimental motor sledges that eventually froze and broke, Amundsen was banking on fur and dogs.
Dogs were the key.
Specifically, 52 Greenland Huskies. Amundsen viewed the expedition as a cold, hard calculation. He knew that dogs could pull more weight than men and, crucially, if things got desperate, the dogs could become food for the other dogs—and the men. It sounds gruesome to us now, but in 1911, it was the difference between life and death.
The Gear That Saved Them
Amundsen didn't use the high-tech (for the time) Burberry windbreakers that the British favored. He wore loose-fitting reindeer skins. He realized that if you sweat in the Antarctic, you die. Sweat turns to ice. Ice sucks the heat out of your core. The Inuit-style clothing allowed for ventilation, keeping the men dry.
He also obsessed over the boots. He spent months redesigning them so they wouldn't cramp the feet or cause frostbite. He even brought a professional ski jumper, Olav Bjaaland, specifically because the guy knew how to handle skis better than anyone on the planet.
The Base Camp: Framheim
While Scott set up his base at Cape Evans, Amundsen took a massive gamble. He parked the Fram at the Bay of Whales. This was on the Great Ice Barrier (now the Ross Ice Shelf). Most explorers thought the ice there was unstable and might break off into the sea. Amundsen looked at the records of previous explorers like James Clark Ross and noticed the barrier hadn't moved in decades.
He was right.
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By starting at the Bay of Whales, he was sixty miles closer to the Pole than Scott. Sixty miles is a lot when you’re walking.
Life at Framheim was basically a high-stakes workshop. They spent the winter of 1911 tinkering. They shaved weight off the sledges. They repackaged the food into easier-to-open tins. Amundsen was a micromanager in the best possible way. He knew that a stuck zipper or a heavy crate could be the thing that killed them at 85 degrees south.
The False Start and the Real Push
Amundsen was so anxious about Scott’s motorized sledges that he actually left too early. On September 8, 1911, he started the Roald Amundsen South Pole expedition in earnest, but the temperatures plummeted to -56°C (-69°F). The dogs' paws started to freeze. The men couldn't sleep.
He retreated.
It was a humbling moment. Hjalmar Johansen, an experienced explorer who had been with Nansen, publicly criticized Amundsen for the rush. Amundsen didn't take criticism well. He didn't just argue; he kicked Johansen off the polar party. It shows a darker side of the man—he was single-minded to the point of being ruthless.
The real push happened on October 19. Five men, four sledges, and 52 dogs.
Climbing the Devil’s Glacier
The route was terrifying. They had to climb the Transantarctic Mountains to get onto the high plateau. They found a way up the Heiberg Glacier—a steep, jagged mess of ice and crevasses. They called one area "The Devil’s Ballroom" because the ice was so thin it sounded like they were walking on glass. One wrong step and you were gone.
They pushed through. They reached the plateau, and then, they did the math. They slaughtered 24 of the weakest dogs to feed the remaining ones and themselves. They called this spot "The Butcher's Shop." It’s the part of the story that makes most people uncomfortable, but without that protein, they never would have made it back.
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December 14, 1911: Reaching the Goal
The actual arrival at the South Pole was... kinda boring?
They weren't sure exactly where the Pole was because their instruments weren't perfect. So, they spent three days crisscrossing the area to make sure they actually hit the spot. They planted the Norwegian flag. They smoked cigars. They named the plateau King Haakon VII’s Plateau.
They left a small tent, the Polheim, and a letter inside for King Haakon. They also left a note for Scott. Amundsen politely asked Scott to deliver the letter to the King, just in case Amundsen died on the way back. It was a classic "I was here first" move, wrapped in gentlemanly etiquette.
They started the trek back.
With the wind at their backs and the sledges light, they practically flew. They reached Framheim on January 25, 1912. They had been gone 99 days and covered about 1,860 miles. They were actually fatter than when they left because they had managed their rations so well.
The Tragic Contrast
You can't talk about the Roald Amundsen South Pole expedition without mentioning what happened to Scott. Scott reached the Pole 34 days after Amundsen. Imagine the crushing weight of seeing that Norwegian flag fluttering in the wind.
Scott’s team died on the way back.
They ran out of food. They ran out of fuel. They were hit by a "black blizzard" that lasted for days. Scott’s journals are heartbreaking, but they also reveal why he failed. He used ponies that sank in the snow. He used motor sledges that failed. He used man-hauling, which burned more calories than the men could consume.
Amundsen’s success was built on humility toward the environment. He didn't try to "conquer" the Antarctic with British technology; he adapted to it using Inuit wisdom.
What Most People Get Wrong
A common myth is that Amundsen was just a cold, calculating machine. While he was definitely focused, his diaries show he was constantly worried. He wasn't some fearless superhero; he was a guy who was terrified of failure and worked himself to the bone to prevent it.
Another misconception? That the expedition was a massive scientific waste. While Amundsen focused on the "trophy" of the Pole, his team still collected valuable data on the geography of the Queen Maud Mountains and the weather patterns of the interior. It wasn't just a race; it was a mapping mission.
Takeaways for the Modern Explorer
If you're looking at the Roald Amundsen South Pole expedition as a lesson in leadership or planning, here is the reality of why he won:
- Master the Basics: Amundsen spent years learning how to ski and handle dogs. He didn't outsource his survival to new, unproven tech.
- Weight is Everything: Every gram they shaved off their gear was a gram they didn't have to pull. They even hollowed out the handles of their tools.
- Redundancy: He didn't just mark his supply depots with one flag. He put out rows of flags for miles on either side so that even in a blizzard, they wouldn't miss the food.
- Listen to the Locals: His time with the Inuit was his greatest asset. He realized that Western "civilization" didn't have all the answers for extreme environments.
To truly understand the scale of this achievement, you should look into the specific journals of Olav Bjaaland. His perspective as the "best skier" offers a much more human, often humorous look at the daily grind of the ice. You can also visit the Fram Museum in Oslo; standing on the deck of that ship makes you realize just how small and wooden their world was compared to the vastness of the Antarctic.
For those interested in the logistics, researching the caloric breakdown of their "Pemmican" rations provides a fascinating look at early 20th-century nutritional science—or the lack thereof. Amundsen’s mix included oatmeal and vegetables, which likely kept scurvy at bay much better than Scott’s diet.
The expedition remains the gold standard for polar exploration. It wasn't about bravery alone—it was about being the best-prepared person in the room.