The Most Disturbing Expedition in Canadian History

The Franklin expedition of 1845 is one of the most infamous expeditions in the history of exploration. And in the end, it resulted in the disappearance and later disturbing findings of the fate of the crew. In fact, though, this was not his first expedition.

Franklin made several trips to the most northern and unexplored reaches of North America 20 years earlier— one of which is equally infamous for different reasons. And it is maybe even more gruesome because a firsthand account can make a story much more horrific than one that's pieced together by archaeological findings. This is Franklin's Coppermine Expedition, and as always, viewer discretion is advised.

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So, if you're ready to give Babbel a try, click the link below or scan the QR code on screen now to get 60 percent off your Babbel subscription. That means, "And now, today's video. " In the early 19th century, as Europe emerged from the shadow of the Napoleonic Wars, the British Navy sought a new purpose for its massive fleet.

The wars had reshaped borders and empires, but peace left the Navy's formidable ships and officers with little to do. It was in this transition period that Sir John Barrow, the second secretary of the Admiralty, set his sights on one of the most coveted goals of exploration, which was the discovery of the Northwest Passage. As has been covered on the channel several times before, this elusive sea route was rumored to cross the icy waters of the Arctic and was hoped to connect Europe with East Asia, opening a faster and more efficient path for trade.

The idea of this passage north had interested European powers for centuries, and while unconfirmed at the time, there was some evidence to suggest that it might exist. Whalers in the Bering Strait reported finding whales with harpoons and scars from opposite sides of the globe, hinting at a connection between the Arctic and Atlantic oceans. However, the maze of islands and frozen waters beyond Canada's northern shores remain largely unmapped, and what little that was known have been gathered through sporadic sightings and indigenous knowledge, with most coastlines never being seen by European eyes.

So for Barrow and his ambitions, the Northwest Passage held the promise of immense economic and geopolitical power. If the British could chart this route, they could control a maritime shortcut to the wealth of Asia and secure their dominance on the global stage. In 1818, the Admiralty made its first trip into the Arctic under Barrow's renewed direction, but the results were disappointing.

Captain John Ross sailed into Lancaster Sound, which was the supposed gateway to the Northwest Passage but turned back prematurely, mistaking it for a dead-end bay. Around the same time, another explorer, David Buchan, who was attempting to reach the North Pole directly, returned with nothing more than stories of impenetrable ice north of Spitsbergen in Norway. However, these failures would only make Barrow more determined, and by the following year, the strategy had shifted.

Two expeditions were then planned. The first, under William Edward Parry, would again attempt to find an entrance via Lancaster Sound, while the other would take a different approach and embark on an overland journey to the Arctic coast by way of the Coppermine River. This second group was planned to map the uncharted coastline and maybe rendezvous with the first expedition ships if everything went smoothly.

To lead this ambitious overland expedition, Barrow selected John Franklin, who was at the time a promising naval lieutenant who served under Buchan on the failed 1818 mission. You may also recognize his name from another infamous expedition. But anyway, although he was relatively untested in such extreme conditions at the time, Franklin was known for his calm demeanor and determination— and he would need both in the challenges that lay ahead.

He was being asked to map the northern coast of an entire continent and document its mysteries along the way. In doing so, Franklin's expedition would either confirm the Northwest Passage as navigable or prove it as a myth. And again, unlike the first two seaborne missions of Parry and Ross, Franklin's journey would be focused heavily on land travel across some of the harshest and least explored terrain in North America.

So with so many unknowns ahead, Franklin's orders from the Admiralty were broad, allowing him significant flexibility in decision-making. His primary goal was to map the Arctic coastline, starting from the mouth of the Coppermine River, ideally reaching Repulse Bay, where he might connect with Parry's ships. But if conditions made this difficult, he had the option to head westward and chart the coast between the Coppermine and Mackenzie Rivers instead.

Then beyond exploration, Franklin's team was also tasked with gathering weather data, studying the magnetic effects of the Northern Lights, and recording detailed observations of the plants, animals, and indigenous peoples they encountered. Essentially, the expedition needs to balance exploration with scientific discovery, which is made even more difficult by their limited budget. Because of their limited resources, Franklin's expedition depended heavily on two fur trade rivals— the Hudson's Bay Company and The North West Company— for food, transportation, and skilled labor.

Métis explorers, known for their remarkable endurance and deep knowledge of the land, would be hired to work as boatmen and laborers, while the Yellowknife people, who were indigenous to the region, would serve as guides and hunters. Then, to help lead the expedition, Franklin carefully selected a small but capable group of four key men. The first, Dr John Richardson, who was a naturalist, would be Franklin's second-in-command and would be responsible for documenting the Arctic's wildlife and environment.

Then, Robert Hood and George Back were two young officers who would be assisting with mapping and recording the journey through illustrations and written accounts. And finally, John Hepburn, who was an experienced sailor and problem-solver, would handle the practical tasks and maintain morale among the crew. Together with the Métis explorers and indigenous guides, these men would form the backbone of the expedition.

After planning was done, preparations began in early 1819, but challenges arose immediately. Franklin's tight budget forced him to accept whatever supplies the fur trading companies could spare, which often included outdated equipment and insufficient provisions. The rivalry between the Hudson's Bay Company and The North West Company also further complicated things.

Because of their competition with one another, they were reluctant to fully cooperate with Franklin, often providing less support than promised. But, either way, finally on May 23rd, 1819, the expedition set sail from Gravesend, England aboard a Hudson's Bay Company supply ship. Almost immediately though, the journey got off to an almost comical start.

While stopping off the Norfolk Coast, George Back disembarked for personal reasons, only to be accidentally left behind when favorable winds prompted the ship to leave without him. Luckily, he hurriedly travelled by stagecoach and ferry and eventually caught up with the expedition in Orkney, Scotland. And this was only an extremely minor setback in the grand scheme of things.

It was once they arrived in Canada that the real challenges began. The team then began an exhausting 1700-mile trek from York Factory on Hudson's Bay to Great Slave Lake in the Northwest Territories. To do this, they followed established fur trade routes by canoe and on foot, stopping at key trading posts along the way.

But as you might imagine, this journey inland was grueling. Supplies were still scarce, and many of the promised provisions from the fur trading companies never arrived. At one point, Franklin had to leave behind essential supplies, trusting that they would be sent after him, but they never were.

Meanwhile, tensions among the Métis explorers and indigenous guides began to rise, fueled by the harsh conditions and uncertainty about the mission's success. By the time Franklin and his men arrived at Cumberland House in Saskatchewan in the winter of 1819, it was clear that their expedition would be as much of a test of endurance as it was exploration. The small trading post was basically no more than a log cabin, housing 30 Hudson's Bay Company men and offered little comfort against the bitter cold of the Canadian prairie winter.

Supplies were also still limited and to make things worse, hunting game was scarce. Dr Richardson and Hood recorded their struggles in their journals with a particular emphasis on how it was a cold unlike any other they'd encountered before. In early 1820, Franklin set off with back and Hepburn to secure supplies and additional manpower at Fort Chipewyan in Alberta, which would be the next major stop in their journey.

And again, the trek was nothing short of brutal. They pushed through dense pine forests and across frozen lakes, enduring temperatures so severe that their tea froze moments after it was poured. Apparently, even the mercury in their thermometers solidified.

Also, with no tents for shelter, they actually slept out in the open, literally burrowing into snowdrifts for insulation against the wind. By the time they reached Fort Chipewyan in late March, they were physically exhausted and painfully aware of the enormity of the challenge that lay before them. At this point, they were still only about halfway through their journey.

Franklin's optimism was also soon further tampered by reality. The fur trading companies were more concerned with their rivalry than the success of the expedition, and they offered little support. The best explorers, who were essential for navigating the waterways and transporting supplies, either refused to risk their lives on such a dangerous journey or were too entangled in the ongoing fur trade war to be spared.

In the end, Franklin managed to recruit 16 explorers, but they were far from the experience many had hoped for. Many lacked the endurance and skills needed for the trek ahead, leaving Franklin to contend with an increasingly uncertain future. But either way, by the time Richardson and Hood rejoined the advance party in spring, the expedition moved on to Fort Providence, which was a remote outpost on the northern shore of Great Slave Lake.

It was here that Franklin met Akaitcho, who was the influential leader of the Yellowknives First Nation who had agreed to assist as a guide and hunter. Akaitcho was intelligent and pragmatic, and so he viewed Franklin's ambitious mission with skepticism. He questioned the supposed importance of finding the Northwest Passage, pointing out that Europeans had searched for it in vain for centuries.

If it was so truly critical, he reasoned, it would have been found long ago. Despite his doubts, though, Akaitcho agreed to help, but it was for a price. He insisted that the British provide his people with weapons, ammunition, and tobacco, and that their debts to The North West Company be erased.

Franklin, obviously eager for his guidance, agreed to the terms with little resistance, and despite his misgivings, Akaitcho's guidance would prove invaluable in the months to come. In July of 1820, the party set out from Fort Providence to establish a winter base closer to their ultimate goal, which was the mouth of the Coppermine River. They travelled with Akaitcho's band which led Franklin's team to a site near the Snare River where they began constructing what would become known as Fort Enterprise.

This base was little more than a cluster of wooden huts and was intended to serve as a supply depot for their journey to the Arctic coast. From the outset, however, as with the rest of their expedition, Fort Enterprise was plagued by food shortages and deteriorating morale. Despite promises from Akaitcho to stockpile dried meat during the winter, Franklin's men knew that to survive, they would be relying on hunting which could be highly unpredictable.

And this would lead to the winter of 1820 to 1821 at Fort Enterprise being among the most harrowing chapters of the expedition. Food supplies dwindled rapidly, and Akaitcho's hunters proved Franklin's men right by failing to find much game to hunt. This led to starvation being an ever-present threat, and Franklin's leadership was tested as tensions within the group started to boil over.

A near mutiny among the explorers was barely avoided when Franklin threatened severe punishment for any disobedience. And as winter dragged on, the strain of survival began taking its toll on the expedition's cohesion. Personality clashes among the officers and explorers worsened, with Franklin's positive disposition occasionally at odds with the realities of their situation.

Despite these challenges, though, the expedition endured, sustained by the faint hope of reaching the Arctic coast and achieving the mission. Little did they know, however, that the hardships at Fort Enterprise were just a prelude. Now with that said, the spring of 1821 brought a fragile sense of renewal to the group.

So after enduring the brutal winter at Fort Enterprise, Franklin's party turned their sights northward to resume their journey to the Arctic coast. Supplies remained limited and tensions within the group continued to simmer, but on June 4th, 1821, Franklin led his team northward to the mouth of the Coppermine River, following vague plans to explore eastward along the coastline. The group then set off with three canoes and provisions for two weeks, supplemented by the promise of food caches to be laid along their route.

Progress, though, was unfortunately slow and difficult. The canoes required constant maintenance and were frequently damaged by the rocky riverbeds and stormy weather. Hunting attempts also yielded little, and the explorers grew increasingly restless.

Franklin's frustration with the Yellowknife guides also deepened as it became clear that they were also unfamiliar with the terrain, undermining the party's trust in their leadership. Despite these obstacles, though, the expedition reached the Arctic Circle on July 14th. This was a moment of bittersweet achievement because the barren coastline littered with treacherous ice floes and unrelenting winds, offered little hope of food and shelter.

Attempts to trade with Inuit communities also failed when the inhabitants fled their camps, likely as a result of being afraid of these starving explorers. Then when Franklin's party scoured the camp for whatever the Inuit left behind, what they found revealed that the natives were no better off than the party was. Among what little remained were rotting salmon, dried birds, and some dead mice, hardly enough to sustain 25 starving men.

Even still, from the mouth of the Coppermine, Franklin pressed eastward along the coast, determined to chart as much of the shoreline as possible. By August 22nd, the party had mapped about 675 miles of coastline, reaching a spot they named Point Turnagain. This aptly chosen name marked the moment Franklin conceded that further progress was impossible.

The canoes were damaged beyond repair, the weather was worsening, and their supplies were nearly exhausted. So, with heavy hearts, the group prepared for the arduous return journey. Rather than retracing their route along the coast, Franklin decided to head inland, crossing the uncharted and ominously named Barren Lands.

This was a gamble of necessity because the damaged canoes couldn't go any further, and the approach of winter left no time to waste. The party then set off on foot, carrying their remaining supplies and what little equipment they could salvage. As they advanced, sharp rocks tore through their boots, leaving their feet bloodied and raw, and the cold grew even more unrelenting as the season advanced.

In addition to that, starvation was closing in like never before, with the party forced to subsist on lichens, and if they were lucky, rotting carcasses every now and then, and the boiled leather from their spare boots. During this, mutiny stirred once again among the explorers who discarded fishing nets and destroyed canoes in acts of rebellion. Despite these acts of tension, though, the group pressed on, driven by the faint hope of reaching Fort Enterprise and the promise of food and shelter.

This made the journey across the Barren Lands a dangerous race against time as winter arrived early, freezing the rivers and blanketing the ground with snow. On September 26th, the party reached a large river that was likely the Coppermine, but their hopes were crushed when they realized it was impassable without boats. Franklin estimated that Fort Enterprise was just 40 miles away from the other side of the river.

So, in a desperate attempt, Richardson tried to swim across it, but was quickly overcome by the icy current and just barely avoided drowning. Meanwhile, one of the explorers, frustrated by the hopelessness of the situation, fled into the wilderness and was never seen again. Ultimately, a makeshift canoe was crafted from willow branches and canvas, which enabled the group to travel the river one by one, but the delay had cost them dearly.

Two days after crossing, it seemed that some of the group had reached their limit and couldn't advance any further. Two of the explorers were then abandoned after they collapsed from weakness and exhaustion threatened to claim Hood and Richardson next. In response, the most prudent approach in Franklin's mind was to split the group up.

Back and three voyagers were then tasked with pressing ahead to Fort Enterprise to grab supplies and then return. Hood and Richardson, who were too weak to travel, would remain at camp with Hepburn for these supplies. Franklin and the remaining explorers also intended to follow Back's group, but within hours, four in that group abandoned the march, resolving instead to rejoin Richardson's group and await rescue.

Strangely, though, of these four men, only one man named Michel showed up back at camp. Meanwhile, Bach's group reached Fort Enterprise on October 10th, only to find an empty, desolate post. The much-needed supplies promised by Akaitcho were never delivered, putting Bach's group in a dire situation as well.

So, with no other choice, they then left a note for Franklin and decided to press onward toward Fort Providence, hoping to find help further along. Two days later, what remained of Franklin's group reached Fort Enterprise on October 12th and hunkered down there to wait, with their hopes pinned on the success of Back's group. By this point, starvation had taken hold, and Franklin's optimism, which had been so consistent throughout the journey, finally began to waver.

The men, emaciated and weak, then tore apart the fort's floorboards for firewood and scavenged what little remained of their supplies. They also boiled discarded deerskins for sustenance and ate more lichen that provided minimal nutrition and was difficult to digest. During this harrowing situation, Hood, Richardson, and Hepburn waited, hoping that the relief of rescue was on its way, but they were only met with Michel's bizarre behavior.

On several occasions, he left the camp with promises of hunting, and each time he returned carrying meat. Initially, the food was a welcome reprieve, but Michel soon raised suspicion. He frequently disappeared without explanation, refused to gather additional food, and hoarded what he had.

Worse yet, his stories about the source of the meat, which he first said was a hare, then a wolf, seemed increasingly implausible. So pretty quickly, they began to suspect that the meat he had provided was not from animals, but instead the bodies of the explorers who left Franklin's group with him to return to camp. And these suspicions culminated in tragedy on October 20th, when Hood was found dead from a gunshot wound to the back of his head.

Michel claimed it was an accident and that he was cleaning his gun when it went off, but the circumstances, coupled with his increasingly hostile demeanor, told a different story. Richardson and Hepburn then endured three days of fearing for their lives, until finally, there was an opportunity when Michel left to gather Lichen. Seizing on the moment, Richardson loaded his pistol, and when Michel returned, Richardson confronted him and pulled the trigger, shooting him dead.

With that, they felt they had no choice but to struggle on to Fort Enterprise and reach there on the 29th. Back at Fort Enterprise, though, the situation was maybe even more hopeless. Back's rescue party hadn't returned, and the remaining men were too weak to hunt or gather food.

On November 1st, two more explorers died from starvation, and Hepburn, who was one of the last able-bodied men, showed signs of severe swelling from protein deficiency. Hope seemed completely lost, but finally, on the 7th, three of Akaitcho's men reached the fort. They brought food, and afterward, fish for the survivors until they were strong enough to travel.

The party's recovery afterward was slow, but steady, and by mid-November, they left Fort Enterprise for a final time. On December 11th, they reached Fort Providence, bringing the ordeal to an end. The aftermath of the Coppermine Expedition was a complex mixture of criticism and reluctant celebration.

The journey's human cost and limited accomplishments cast a long shadow over its legacy. Franklin and his companions, weakened and traumatized, made their way back to York Factory by the summer of 1822, and their return was met with a muted reception by the company officials who had grown weary of supporting what they viewed as a poorly planned and ill-fated mission. George Simpson, who was a prominent figure in the Hudson's Bay Company, was particularly scathing in his assessment of Franklin.

He criticized the leader's physical limitations, alleging that Franklin required regular meals and rest, and that he couldn't walk more than 8 miles per day. He also blamed Franklin's adherence to his objectives for the suffering endured by the party, arguing that a more experienced leader would have modified or abandoned the mission to ensure safety. When Franklin and his men returned to England in October 1822, however, public opinion contrasted sharply with the private criticisms of fur traders and explorers.

Franklin was hailed as a hero and celebrated for his resilience in the face of extraordinary adversity. The admiralty even promoted him to captain, and he was elected as a fellow of the Royal Society. His account of the expedition, published in 1823, became a bestseller and cemented his reputation as the man who ate his boots, which was a reference to his desperate survival tactics.

And in fairness, despite the ordeal, the Coppermine Expedition had achieved some significant accomplishments. It had mapped hundreds of miles of Arctic coastline, providing valuable geographic and scientific data. And moreover, its harrowing story captured the imagination of future explorers, including Roald Amundsen, who credited Franklin's account with inspiring his own polar ambitions.

Franklin himself went on to lead another Arctic expedition in 1825— this time with better planning and greater success. He was again accompanied by Richardson and Back, and he mapped additional sections of the North American coastline. Then, later in life, he served as lieutenant governor of what is now Tasmania before embarking on his ill-fated 1845 expedition— during which, he and his entire crew were not so lucky.

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