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Aristotle was the first to propose the idea of a frozen southern pole in his 350 BC treatise Meteorology. Yet, despite centuries of speculation by philosophers, explorers, and cartographers, the continent was not definitively discovered until 1820. It would be nearly a hundred years before meaningful exploration began, famously marked by Roald Amundsen’s 1911 expedition to the South Pole. However, by then, the seeds of Antarctic mythology were already blooming. How did such elaborate mythos develop so quickly? Simple—it already existed.
Antarctic myths are, in essence, an amalgamation of long-discarded concepts first applied to its northern counterpart, the Arctic Circle. Among these, the legends of Hyperborea and Thule serve as the foundation, reinforced by aspects of Hollow Earth Theory and various lost civilization myths. While modern iterations incorporate New Age mysticism and a heavy dose of UFO conspiracies, the core themes remain unchanged.
Hyperborea
In Greek mythology, Boreas was the god of the North Wind, and Hyperborea translates directly as “beyond Boreas,” or beyond the north wind. Herodotus provides the first detailed description, drawing from earlier sources such as Homer, Hesiod, and Aristeas. He describes it as a temperate and fertile land, inhabited by a race of ten-foot-tall giants, located beyond the Riphean Mountains, which supposedly sheltered it from the harsh northern climate.
However, Herodotus’ account has some notable problems. First, the Riphean Mountains were said to mark the northernmost boundary of the known world—yet their location shifted repeatedly over the centuries. Various sources have placed them in Northern Greece, Britain, Scandinavia, the Kazakh Steppe, the Ural Mountains, and Siberia, among others. Then, of course, there is Herodotus himself—the ancient world’s equivalent of Twitter. He eagerly “retweeted” any tale he heard, often with little regard for its factuality.
Nevertheless, the legend of Hyperborea persisted, continuously shifting northward until it could go no further. At that point, the myth evolved; instead of a paradise beyond the mountains, it became an underground kingdom beneath them. Later versions became even more specific, placing Hyperborea beneath a massive mountain of pure lodestone, situated directly at the North Pole. However, by this time, it was already becoming conflated with tales of Thule.

Thule
Running parallel to the legend of Hyperborea is that of Thule. The Greek explorer Pytheas, in his now-lost book On the Ocean, describes Thule as an island six days’ sail north of Britain, near the frozen sea. Early historians debated the accuracy and honesty of Pytheas’ claims. Some accepted them at face value, while others, such as Polybius, flatly called him a liar. Regardless, Thule—or Ultima Thule—became synonymous with distant, possibly mythical lands.
Like Hyperborea, Thule’s supposed location shifted as geographic knowledge expanded, with various theories placing it in Orkney, Greenland, Scotland, and Scandinavia. Because of these regional associations, elements of Norse and Scandinavian history often became entangled with Thule. For example, the Thule Society, a German occult group formed shortly after World War I, drew heavily from Nordic and Hyperborean myths. The society’s ideology later became deeply interwoven with Nazi occultism—hence its frequent appearance in later Antarctic conspiracy theories.

John Dee and King Arthur
In 1577, Queen Elizabeth’s court astronomer John Dee made one of the boldest—and most bizarre—cases for expanding the English Empire. At the time, European powers were competing for control of the fabled Northwest Passage, seeking a direct trade route to Asia via the Arctic. Dee’s argument to Elizabeth was that the entirety of the Arctic Circle, including both real and mythical locations such as Thule, Atlantis, and Hyperborea, rightfully belonged to England. His reasoning? They had already been conquered by King Arthur.
As evidence, Dee cited dubious sources such as the Gestai Arthuri and the Inventio Fortunata—both of which were, conveniently, lost to history. Dee’s claims gained significant credibility thanks to his close friend, the renowned cartographer Gerardus Mercator. Mercator, who relied on the Inventio Fortunata for parts of his work, created a famous world map incorporating these supposed conquests.
Of course, the idea of King Arthur marching to the North Pole and subjugating the Hyperboreans is patently absurd. However, at the time, it was considered a plausible enough excuse for a land grab—even if it never materialized.
Even more remarkable is the lasting influence of Mercator’s world map, which depicted the North Pole as dominated by a massive mountain of lodestone (explaining why compasses point north), surrounded by a swirling sea responsible for ocean currents. Four great rivers divided this “maelstrom,” separating four islands oriented to the cardinal directions.
Mercator himself never visited the Arctic; his description relied almost entirely on the Inventio Fortunata, a circa 1360 travelogue written by a Franciscan monk who supposedly walked from Oxford to the North Pole. However, Mercator never actually read the book—he only had access to a summary, which he later claimed to have lost. In short, he mapped the entire northernmost region of the globe based on the secondhand notes of a book that may never have existed in the first place.
Despite this, Mercator would go down as one of the greatest cartographers in history, and his world map would endure for generations—a monument to over 2,000 years of mythology and misinformation.

Modern Influences
By the early 19th century, Arctic cartography had advanced significantly, and the ancient myths of Thule and Hyperborea had largely faded from public consciousness. However, with the discovery of Antarctica, these old legends resurfaced, repurposed to fit a new, untouched, and frozen frontier.
One of the principal influences behind this resurgence was the 19th-century spiritualist movement, which frequently trafficked in ancient wisdom and forgotten lore. Helena Blavatsky’s Theosophy movement is a prime example. Blavatsky promoted the idea of “root races,” lost civilizations that once embodied universal spiritual truths. Among these were the Hyperboreans, who, according to her writings, transcended mere legend and represented an enlightened race.
Blavatsky’s work also incorporated elements of Atlantis and Lemuria—two other lost civilizations supposedly destroyed by cataclysmic upheavals. Her writings predated modern plate tectonics, but she adapted emerging scientific theories to fit her mystical narrative. Later, in the 20th century, when geologists confirmed that Antarctica had once been part of Pangea, some seized on this as evidence that an ancient civilization had once thrived there—one now buried under a mile of ice.
Blavatsky was far from the only figure to recycle these old tales. Just as Herodotus drew from Homer and older sources, modern writers borrowed from her and others, reshaping these myths to fit their own narratives.

One Last Thing
Some myths are universal—Bigfoot, ghosts, and lost civilizations appear in countless cultures across history. The Hollow Earth Theory is another such example, consistently woven into Antarctic mythology. From Hades to Shamballa, nearly every civilization has a legend of subterranean kingdoms. This universal familiarity makes it easy for the concept to be reimagined within the Antarctic landscape.
In many ways, this explains the enduring mystique of Antarctica. The myths surrounding it are not new; they are merely repurposed, shifting across ages and continents. It is ironic—and perhaps a little tragic—that when faced with the last great unknown, humanity chose to define it using the discarded fantasies of the past.
Jason Roberts is a Seattle-based author noted for his acclaimed western horror series The Dead Wind Trilogy as well as other works of cosmic horror infused with historical fiction. His web-based series, Dark Distractions examines paranormal mysteries, unexplained phenomena, and all things strange.