A 'day' in the field!

Thursday 21st December was a key day, a milestone day even. This was the type of day I joined the British Antarctic Survey for. Co-pilot duty beckoned. BAS has a very sensible policy on ensuring staff do not travel any great distance away from bases unaccompanied. So even if there is no actual need for passengers (or PAX in BAS speak!) a co-pilot is still a necessity in case of emergences and unforeseen circumstances. More on unforeseen circumstances later!

However, a mildly ironic fact is that operations and research in the Antarctic can only occur through proceedings being planned and executed with an almost military style level of precision and detail, often far in advanced. The irony comes in with the fact that detailed logistical planning does not rule in Antarctica; the weather does, the weather in conjunction with ‘unforeseen circumstances’ that is. The Antarctic as a continent glances at the detailed and beautifully coloured Gant chart produced by BAS Operations and Scientific Boards’ and lifts it’s svelte 25,400,000km3 of ice and has a damn good chuckle with itself.

We left base at approximately 9:10am on Thursday, to travel to the ‘Rabid’ deep field site some 1000 miles to the south, to arrive back at base around 11:00pm that night, after successfully completing a straightforward equipment deployment exercise.

I next saw Rothera 14 days later.

The map above shows the locations of the depots and deep field site, Rabid.

Our transport is the Twin Otter, and it is the workhorse of the extreme environment airways. It’s Canadian upbringing making it the perfect plane for Antarctic operations. We have four, affectionately know as Victor Bravo Bravo, Victor Bravo Charlie, Victor Bravo Lima and Alpha Zulu -- Naturally! Victor Bravo Charlie was my bird!

It’s interesting in retrospect the thoughts that stick most in the mind about the first few hours of flight… the memory of grinning like a school kid during take-off; the fact that the doors open by turning a handle (exactly the same as in an old car – none of these large levers and people instructing “… arm doors to automatic and position to cross check please”). You lift the handle and the door will open and this is the case on the ground, or at 10,000ft feet – I found I was always very aware of my elbow position in relation to the door handle! Also, the fact that as the cabin is un-pressurized means you can open the window! Fantastic for photography, no more sticking the lens against the plastic to get a blurry shot consisting mainly of the remains of the previous seat occupants greasy forehead.

But the biggest memory, as is often the case in the Antarctic, was the scenery – flying at a few thousand feet over glaciers and sounds, in between mountains ranges, with nunatak’s sticking out of the sea of white is utterly breathtaking. Photographs and words struggle at this point. This is why I am here.

After landing and refueling at two depots along the route, Fossil Bluff and Sky Blu, we arrive at Rabid. It’s a simple operation to deposit some fuel, a ski-doo and a few other supplies, and it’s completed surprisingly quickly. The realization of where I am then hits. The Ellsworth mountain range is close by; they are stunning. But the predominate thought is: ‘where I am’. I am just shy of 80 degrees south, by far the furthest south I have ever been.

There are no other living creatures anywhere near here, no other humans for several hundreds of miles; the nearest city is in South America.

This is truly remote. And then in a rather surreal moment, Bravo Bravo lands behind us and 5 people get out!

My only sad thought I had there is that there is a significant chance that this will be the furthest south I will ever get to. I am about 700 miles from the South Pole - so close! We do have research sites further south, but the chances of me reaching them personally are probably quite remote, and the likelihood of being sent to the Yank Amundsen-Scott station situated on the pole itself even less likely.

The sad thought lasts a fraction of a second, as the view of a now 20ft buried igloo (yes, the toilet – built several years ago on the surface, but buried a little more each season by the snow accumulation) again makes me smile and brings me back my current location, and how lucky I am to be here.

The Sky Blu depot

The return flight is equally enthralling. Back to Sky Blu for fuel and on to Fossil Bluff for, you guessed it, fuel. The difference here is that I watch Bravo Charlie depart from the ski-way, i.e. I watch Charlie take off from the ground. I am not on the plane; this is not right. The Gant chart states quite categorically that I should be on that plane. I only have one pair of pants!

To cut a long story short, a colleague has slightly knacked his finger, nothing too serious but better to be safe than sorry, he flies back to Rothera and it’s medical facilities and doctors while I hold the fort at the depot. No worries – I’ll be collected tomorrow. The weather came in… Christmas and New Year at ‘The Bluff…’