Timothy Luttermoser 19th Century Inspiration, 21st Century Expedition

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19th Century Inspiration, 21st Century Expedition

Tim Luttermoser

            After reading two novels about nineteenth century exploration, Andrea Barrett’s Voyage of the Narwhal and Daniel Kehlmann’s Measuring the World, and traveling for about a week and a half, something struck me about our trip. For all that we are trying to emulate nineteenth century expeditions in our objectives and methods, at least as much as possible in the twenty-first century, setting out on an Arctic journey in January would be completely idiotic in that time period. An early January departure for any voyage in the nineteenth century would be one of the worst times to leave. In fact, I imagine many northern harbors would be completely frozen over at that time. Even for those harbors possible to set out from, the waters would be so treacherous between ice and storms that most ships would be doomed. We are not on a boat expedition, however. Planes allow us to overcome many of the obstacles previous explorers struggled with. Nevertheless, we barely made it to Alaska due to snow and ice in both Chicago and Juneau. Even with modern technology, nature can unexpectedly affect any journey.

             There are many other idiosyncrasies when comparing our journey to that of Humboldt or Erasmus. In the two novels, both the historical figure and the fictional character packed many instruments and tools for taking measurements and collecting specimens on their voyages. They were going to areas that, in some cases, had literally never been explored in modern times before. In contrast, most of our baggage is for our personal comfort. While some instruments or specimens may aid our journey, nowhere we go are we breaking entirely new ground. The areas we explore are already detailed in scientific papers, described in pamphlets and brochures, and presented in museums. We may make new connections others have missed or observations most are unaware of, but we do not need to measure altitude or average temperature or collect the first plants ever gathered from a region. All that work has already been done, in some cases over a century ago. That is not to say that nineteenth century techniques we are emulating are no longer relevant or useful, but rather that we are using similar methods with different goals.

             It's also worth noting that we have available to us far more information about areas we are going than most nineteenth century explorers had. We have a better idea what to prepare for and have a rough idea of what we will see. In many cases we may be surprised (the dryness of the volcanic landscape at the end of Mount Haleakala comes to mind), but we at least knew beforehand to expect a rainshadow desert with some plants in a valley atop that mountain. In contrast, Zeke, the fictional captain of the Narwhal, was able to map and name bays and capes entirely unknown to western man, and Alexander von Humboldt, the German natural historian, was one of the first of a handful of Europeans to travel the Orinoco at all. In fact, Humboldt and Aimé Bonpland were the very first, European or otherwise, to attempt to ascend Mount Chimborazo in central Ecuador.

             Our journey is a unique blend. As citizens of the twenty-first century, we have advantages in traveling that those in the nineteenth century could only have dreamt of. Yet, despite the forward motion of technology, the basic approach of nineteenth century science, an approach focused on observation, remains a useful tool for explorers and naturalists and will continue to be in the future. There is often a feeling that there are no frontiers left, that we have explored all there is to explore, in stark contrast to the world that nineteenth century explorers set out into, where some maps might still have had Here Be Dragons marked at the edges. However, the world around us is constantly changing, never static. What was true on a map a hundred years ago is almost certainly not true today, and changes can occur as quickly as two years, as we have already seen so early in the trip.

             Instead of an expedition to observe the natural world, it might be better to say that we are on an expedition to observe the natural world and human effects on it. We no longer need to measure altitude and latitude/longitude positions. The more complex challenges of the interrelationships of climate, flora and fauna, and humanity's effects on all three, will require examination as long as humans are here to examine them.