There hasn't been much of external interest for me recently apart from some material desire, so I escaped further by watching some films. My interest in arctic exploration, while certainly limited, was pretty much limited to what kinds of clothes that they wore (particularly in cold climates, as I have developed a distaste for the winter which almost rivals my hatred for the summer), but somehow I decided to give Shackleton's Frozen Hell a viewing.
Although it had recreated scenes, the story itself somehow shone through, pure inspiration itself- and it got me to jotting down in my list of "books to buy" those written by Frank Worsley, who seems to have been the real heart of why Shackleton has claimed his fame in history.
What a story! And it was all true!
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| Frank Worsley, the man himself. |
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| the men. |
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