Looking up from the bottom of the world

I first became aware of the term ‘Bivi Bag’ a few weeks ago while eating breakfast. A conversation was on going around me that I was quite intrigued by, but one I realised that to have any means of contributing to I would need to have an actual definition of Bivi.

The explanation was quite forthcoming, and after absorbing it for a few seconds, I stared back expecting everyone to suddenly burst out laughing. But no, the serious expressions continued, as did the conversation! The preverbal was surely being taken, but glancing around the breakfast table expecting to find sniggers directed at my lack of ‘outdoor’ knowledge, but again no, a typical morning: overly happy morning people being happily ignored by overly unhappy morning people.

The reason for my ‘taken-a-back-ness’ was the definition, which in summary is a small lightweight bag you simply put down on the ground (ice and snow in our case) crawl in and go to sleep. No tent, just lay it on the ground completely out in the open, This is Antarctica!!! That just seems wrong.

It’s a kind of third backup system (after full Pyramid tent, and emergency Pup tent) when out in the field and everything has gone really, really pare! So with the outside temp approaching –20°C, up the hill we went with our Bivi’s. Bag laid out on the ground I crawl in and zipped myself up until there was only a small gap that I was peering out from lying on the snow.

One point of note however is another advantage of living on a continent that is one and a half times the size of the USA with zero air or light pollution is stargazing. This was the sight I stared at through the small gap in my Bivi zip as I drifted slowly to sleep.

Looking out from the bottom of the world, this is view of the galactic elliptical plane shinning brighter and clearer than I had ever seen.

The other shock of the night is that the bag was really really toastie!

Land ahoy!

Boating is an essential activity at Rothera; it supports the dive operations, marine biologists and various seawater salinity + depth + temp monitoring projects. It also provides the only access to the islands while the sea is still in it’s liquid state, and so is all-in-all is very important for the continuation of the science program over winter. It's also a mighty fine leisure activity to boot. But as is the way down south, only once all the training is complete, but this in itself provides an interesting way to while away many a winterers’ half day.

This is Jim Boat… the whacky naming convention of Rothera is that every boatman is called Boat after his/her name, hence JimBoat – like I said, whacky!

However, boating in the Antarctic seems to fall into two categories, and only two categories. Firstly there are the clear blue-sky days, with the sun gently warming your face, the light refracting off the icebergs producing beautiful rainbow effects and the gentle sounds of the waves lapping up against the RIBs. Peace and serenity out in Ryder Bay letting the stresses of the day wash away -- a delightful experience. Then there are the days like I had today. There is no in between.

For those of you at home you can re-create my boating experience of today. All you need is to find a very thick, heavy, skin tight, rubber suit that covers you from your toes right up to your neck (preferably one that becomes solid when frozen), a large industrial freezer in which to stand in, a very large and power fan capable of blowing 50mph winds directly into you face, a very large supply of buckets containing freezing salty water, and finally a few friends to continually throw the aforementioned buckets of water all over you. Non-stop continually that is. That’s it – that’s all you need to experience Rothera boating on a cack day.

Today Was Cold. Note the covering of ice on my goggles, my suit and my head. Oh how we laughed when we got back to the boatshed… what joy! But we’ll be back tomorrow to do it all over again.