It is fair to say that Bartlett’s only true love was the sea. He never married—in fact, there is no record of any significant romantic relationship. He just never seemed entirely content on land, always bored and restless, always planning for his next adventure. He had become, like many who ventured to the frozen north, a pagophile—a creature most suited to life on sea ice. “It’s all right when you’re out exploring,” he said in his 1928 memoir. “You get used to rotten meat, frozen fingers, lice, and dirt. The hard times come when you get back.”
