In the first part of this century, Sir Ernest Shackleford began his voyage to the Antarctic. It was his dream to cross the twenty-one hundred miles of wasteland by dogsled. He didn't make it that far, however. On the way his ship was stopped by an ice pack and sank. He and his men had to trudge over drifting ice floes trying to reach the nearest land, nearly two hundred miles away, and the nearest human outpost nearly twelve hundred miles away. They towed behind them a lifeboat weighing nearly one ton. When they finally reached waters clear enough of ice to navigate, they faced waves as high as ninety feet. Finally, they reached South Georgia Island, only to find that it had never been crossed before. When they finally reached their destination almost seven months after they began the journey, they were so bedraggled their friends did not recognize them. To a man, however, those who had completed the journey reported that they felt the presence of One unseen to guide them on their perilous trek. Somehow, they knew they were not alone.