We’re obsessed with the polar explorer Sir Ernest Shackleton here at Swoop Antarctica, but even we know that Antarctica can feel awfully far away when we want a hint of the heroic era of polar exploration. That’s why we were delighted when the world’s only museum dedicated to the man they called ‘The Boss’ recently reopened its doors after a multi-million Euro refit. I hopped over to Athy in County Kildare, Ireland, to check out the Shackleton Experience – and to find out how a small town in rural Ireland has such a deep connection to polar exploration.
Shackleton’s Irish connections
The Shackleton Experience is housed in Athy’s beautiful 300-year-old Town Hall in the town’s main square, but before entering I was advised to take a walk around the entire building. I could see the imposing bronze statue of Shackleton by sculptor Mark Richards at one side, but I wasn’t expecting the back of the building to be covered by a three-storey high glass structure shaped like a giant iceberg. With this extravagant piece of modern architecture, it was clear that the museum—like the man who inspired it—was no short of ambition.
Through the glass, I caught sight of a life-sized replica of Shackleton’s famous boat, the James Caird, that he used on his famous journey from Elephant Island to South Georgia after the loss of his ship Endurance. It felt like a good omen.
Inside, I was met by Aline FitzGerald, the museum’s general manager, who was standing next to a life-size model of Shackleton himself, dressed in white tie and tails, as if he had just stepped off an Edwardian stage after thrilling his audiences with stories of his expeditions. An old-fashioned cinema sign saying ‘Athy Picture Palace’ suggested that might just be the case, and Aline beckoned me inside where she told me how the museum had come to be, against a flickering backdrop of footage from the Endurance expedition.
‘Shackleton was born in Kilkea, just outside Athy in 1874, she explained. He spent the first six years of his life here, before his father relocated the family, first to Dublin and then to London.
Unpacking an explorer’s life
Athy has been quietly celebrating its connection to Shackleton for many years through its annual Shackleton Autumn School, which attracts polar experts and enthusiasts (and more than a few Antarctic cruise ship guides and travellers) to the town for a weekend of lectures, educational workshops, panel discussions and arts and drama installations.
‘You really don’t need to be a polar obsessive to visit though!’ Aline insisted. ‘His story, with all its determination and courage, has a very broad appeal. The experience offers visitors the chance to step into his world through dramatic digital storytelling, sensory effects and recreated environments – as well as holding over 200 artifacts associated with him.’
Stopping to admire the fully-rigged James Caird replica, I was also struck by the suspended Hydrogen balloon basket, and an original 1902 Arrol Johnston car. As a self-confessed Shackleton geek I was delighted to see them – those coming new to the Shackleton story often think he’s mostly about ice and sunken ships and dramatic rescues, but these were reminders that he was also a pioneer of polar technology. He took the first aerial photo of Antarctica in 1902 from a balloon like the one on display, and then experimented with using the first motor vehicles on the continent five years later – though the car looked like it would have been a pretty cold ride from where I was standing.
Some of the storytelling turned out to be completely interactive. At the entrance to the main gallery, a sledge is on display from Shackleton’s Nimrod expedition, where he got within a whisker of reaching the South. It was a fascinating artifact in its own right, but the effort it took to drag it (Shackleton was no fan of sled dogs), was brought to life by the heavily weighted replica sledge that visitors could attempt to pull over a polar surface.
Recreating a historic epic
Shackleton’s story unfolds in a smartly designed set of rooms reflecting the different stages of his life – a Victorian parlour packed with charming family photos, and a replica polar hut with a tent and shelves lined with mysterious tinned foods to show off his earlier years as an explorer. But watching the other visitors, I could see people clearly making a bee line to an enormous ship model: the iconic Endurance.
The model was used in the classic Kenneth Branagh Shackleton film, and floor projections of ever-shifting pack ice cleverly lead you to the heart of the epic for which the explorer is best known today.
I’d been wondering how the museum would tackle the heart of the Endurance epic, with the desperate journey in small boats from the ship lost in the ice to Elephant Island, and then the near-miraculous voyage to South Georgia. This was the immersive experience that Aline had told me about. With a handful of other visitors, we sat in a replica of one of the boats, while film of the ocean was projected on three sides around us.
As a narrator spoke Shackleton’s words, hidden fans blew cold air on our faces. What could have been cheesy was surprisingly effective. As we sat in the boat, the waves on the horizon rose above our eyelines before sinking dramatically below – although we remained stationary, it was a clever way of giving an insight into the harsh realities of the voyage. I was almost as relieved as the men on the James Caird when we finally landed safely on South Georgia.
As well as these interactive elements, the museum is well-stocked with historic artifacts that allow visitors to connect with Shackleton more directly. There’s an original Edison cylinder—the earliest form of recording device—that allows you to listen directly to him talking about his experiences on the Nimrod expedition. That expedition was also famous for taking a printing press to produce Aurora Australis, the first books ever printed on the continent – a copy of this incredibly rare and highly prized book was also on display. Among the many papers, one of the most interesting was the diary kept on the Endurance kept by Henry McNish, the ship’s carpenter who did more than anyone to save the boats and keep the prospect of rescue alive.
Shackleton’s cabin
The most moving object of all however is the size of a garden shed – quite literally. Sitting in its own gallery, it’s the very cabin that Shackleton died in January 1922 when his ship Quest was moored at Grytviken harbour in South Georgia on his final expedition. It’s the reason why Shackleton is buried in the cemetery there, and why calling there to pay tribute is such a key part of almost every South Georgia cruise. For many years, the cabin was kept in a garden in Norway, until it was bought by the team at Athy and carefully returned to its original condition by Sven Habermann, one of Ireland’s leading conservation experts.
As someone who has raised a glass in toast at Shackleton’s grave, it was hard to look into the cabin where he breathed his last, with its tiny bed and narrow shelves, and not feel moved that he died just short of his 48th birthday, at a time when the so-called ‘Heroic era’ of Antarctic was drawing to a close.
Within a few short years of his death, one of the members of his final expedition, the Australian Hubert Wilkins made the first airplane flight in Antarctica – taking off from Deception Island to survey more of the region in a few hours than Shackleton could have seen in weeks.
The Antarctic future
How Antarctica changed after his death is explored in the museum’s final gallery, which highlights the escalating impact of climate change on Antarctica and its global consequences. ‘Shackleton explored a frozen continent that’s now undergoing some of the most rapid environmental change on Earth,’ Aline told me, explaining why it had been so important to finish here. ‘By placing contemporary scientific research alongside historic exploration, the Shackleton Experience wants to connect past courage and discovery with present-day responsibility and action.’
Athy might feel a long way from Antarctica, but it was a good reminder that what happens at the poles affects us all. That might not have been something that was as well understood in Shackleton’s time, but given his early adoption of technology it feels like a sure thing he’d have been equally fascinated by the satellites and computers used in today’s polar science if he’d had the chance.
After my tour, I finished with a drink across the square at O’Brien’s, Athy’s oldest pub. Its unruly shelves above the bar were lined with well-thumbed books about Antarctic exploration, and there was a Shackleton beer mat on the table. Aline had said that the museum wasn’t designed for polar obsessives, but it seemed that the town had been turned into a haven for one anyway. It felt like the perfect place to reflect on its homegrown hero – and daydream about my own next trip to the White Continent.
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