Blow, blow, thou winter winds

We have just survived Mid-Winters week, which is as the name suggests is smack bang in the middle of winter. While the solstice is treated as no real biggy in the Northern Hemisphere, it is much cherished down south and treated with very much like a Christmas atmosphere in Antarctica… with a week off, lots of events, BBC World Service broadcasts, and pressie giving on the 21st. It was a fun week.

Considering the amount of physical challenges, i.e. the Winter Olympics and drinking challenges, i.e. the base bar crawl we all survived remarkably intact. And mentioning the bars, some of them were spectacular: ice caves dug into the cliff face...

...the timeless classic of grabbing a beer while attached to a bungee rope, the transformation of the surgery into a kinda seedy torture chamber (just look at the glee in the eye of the mad doc!), but personally in was the dive chamber that took the biscuit.

It just takes one second, and only one second, for a tiny amount of food to appear on a face before a full fledges cream fight ensues. But my lasting memory of this will be two of our Scottish contingency dutifully carrying on playing the violin while chaos and mayhem ensues all around them; all I could think of was the scene from Titanic where the band kept playing on the deck as she began to sink with all panicked around them.

Classic memory.

Each day had its moments and all through the week we constantly received Greeting messages from our entire fellow over winterers around Antarctica… we even had a message from Tony and George W! Blimey.

But the big day is Thursday, June 21st, Mid-Winters Day…

As sure as the sun will rise

Yesterday the sun set below the horizon, as it does every night all over the world, the difference for us at 67 degrees south is that today it didn't rise again. It is the first time in my life I have experienced a day without a sunrise. Humans are designed and have evolved around the pattern of the sun, and I will admit I am more than a little curious to find out how it will affect me. In actual fact I haven't actually seen the sun for a few weeks now; it hasn't managed to rise above the mountains surrounding Rothera, and won't see it again until July. We're not in pitch-blackness at the moment, and during our solar noon it's more like pinky twilight for an hour or two, but this light is noticeably deteriorating each day.

This is the midday scene now on Rothera Point! Strangely enough we seem to get more light now from the moon that we do the sun, and as it's equally important to lighting up my world I realise I have never paid so much attention to the cycle of the moon than I do at the moment.

I have to say, although the lack of sun is a perculiar experience, so far I am quite enjoying it… and imagine being into photography and only having to stroll outside at 11:30am for a spectacular sunrise shot, and having a sunset that lasts all day… albeit a rather short day!

This land is made for spectacular sunsets, but unfortunately only for this short period of time; it is now less than two weeks until mid-winters day and so only a few days until the commencement of 24 hour darkness that will last several weeks. Best dust off 'The Thing' DVD for its annual outing :)

But as always, our companions throughout the dark and cold are our squawking friends, the Adelie. These are two of my favorites taken at midday about a week ago… all very natural and second nature to these guys.

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.

Winter wonderland

So this month it finally happened. Winter is upon us. Even though this was something I have been preparing for mentally since August last year, it was still a very strange sensation to see the JCR appear on the horizon, dock and depart from the wharf and then suddenly realize this is it! We are cut off from the world. It was also as if nature caught onto our mood as well, with a sudden snow flurry and a deep dark foreboding sky – that really helped!

But to experience an Antarctic winter is what we signed up for – this is why we’re here, all 22 of us on the wharf contemplating just exactly what it is we've just committed ourselves to. Mustn’t grumble though, there's no way off now!

In the majority or A-list and ALL B-list movies, this is when the deep buried alien space ship should suddenly appear and flood the point with green slimy creatures, and no matter how hard we scream no one can help! I did look about for it this week but didn’t see it, so it’s probably waiting until the 24hr darkness, more dramatic that way.

But maybe that is not our biggest worry… maybe a bigger worry that it only took until the first weekend for us to all look like this!!! Help is a long way away…

But what would happen if the aliens did turn up that night though – what would they think? How would they explain that one back home at the space port... "Those humans really are an odd lot, eh Zorg? Yeah, you're right Bill. Glad we're home Zorg, that was all a bit too weird for me"

Aaahhhhhh...

Jude and Dude are back!

Any other duties deemed necessary

On most modern job descriptions or contracts, after the list of duties and responsibilities, comes the verbiage: “And any other duties deemed necessary that may occur from time to time”. It is basically Management 101 speak for whatever else we can think of that you should do. OK – cool. Now imagine if under the category of ‘Any other duties deemed necessary blah blah blah’ ended casually with the sentence from the Chief Director, “… OH! and yes, I nearly forgot… we’d like you to speak live into a web cam to two billion people.”

A quick change of underwear later and I was back stating “Sure no problem… love to. Love to!”

Not having TV in Antarctica, I don’t know the impact of International Polar Year (IPY – which is incidentally two years!) and Live Earth, but if my chums back home are anything to go by then the Antarctic was in the news often earlier this year… and now that the Live Earth band line ups are being announced it’s all heating up again.

Well obviously BAS is a big player in IPY, and what better than a live broadcast from the South Pole than during Live Earth. We’re all very keen, but the question is: what do you say to two billion people?!?!! I’m sure that is probably a slight over exaggeration, but lets say the organisers over estimated 100%, that’s still a billion people! Even if they over estimated by 200% that’s still half a billion… I could go on… it’s just an awful lot of people! What if I have a wardrobe malfunction, or even worse a bad hair day – we’ll have to postpone. I’m sure Al Gore would understand, he must have had a bad hair day once!

But, I’m really excited about it now! One of those: this is why I was put on the planet type revelations.

Of course the gang here are very much in the ‘Let’s see how you can slip this word into the sentence…” type humour. Like “Hey Mike, see if you can slip Armadillo into the interview -giggle- go on -giggle- go on”. There were, of course, far worse suggestions than Armadillo, but we’ll leave that for here. After far more direct and embarrassing threats I have take the decision to lock myself in the tower should this event come to fruition. It is sound proof and people cannot run behind me wearing a diving mask screaming, “Look at me’ bits” into the camera. I am no expert but this is important for live broadcasts I feel.

So then there is the filming of the Rothera band for this worldwide TV production, and yep... your humble narrator for this blog is just for the day 'The Cameraman' (Ref: Any other duties deem…) But you’ll have to wait till July to see any footage :)

Aaannnnnnnddddddd….. ACTION!

We could be (Antarctic) heros

The question that has daunted many a Rothera winterer since ‘way back… way back…’: is it a holiday, is it work? No! It’s the ‘BAS Winter Trip’. The answer, incidentally, is a combo of the two.

Out of the 22 wintering staff on base five are Field General Assistants, or Guides in the real world, and the winter trip consists of each of us punters being given a guide to ourselves and told we can go on a real Antarctic expedition to anywhere we want (within reason) for up to six days. We can climb Antarctic mountains, ski or board down, hike, camp, boating, and man hauling (for the slightly deranged!) or simply taking it easy in the local area. This is kind of a cool BAS perk if the truth be told… no other Antarctic operator allows staff these sorts of excursions away from base, and this is way outside the remit of the tourist industry. It is also the worlds best staff retention program ever devised by any organization… ever!

I myself chose a two day distant ski-doo journey to the west of the island to explore the old abandoned BAS research base Carvajal, along with my guide Mad Lizzie, with Disco, Kenny, Scott the Scot and Roger Roger; and this ladies and gentlemen, is our story of survival in the extreme Antarctic outback…

Those of you who have been camping before will know the drill. A backpack packed full of essentials and a good book; the extravagant amongst us may use the car and take along some luxuries, like a gas cooker for example. But in true BAS style we take over one ton of equipment for a week trip! Two full sledges worth. There is enough food and fuel in those boxes for two people to survive 40 days in a tent if the weather breaks! No, I am not exaggerating. Forty days… oh what to give up while stuck in a tent! Sanity maybe?

So 5:00am Friday 23rd, gentlemen: start your engines.

The only way (by doo) to get to the other side of Alidade Island, is to ~insert scarey lightning sound effect~ travel through McCallum’s Pass ~insert scary lightning sound effect again~. McCallum’s pass is only known for one thing: Crevasses. Crevasses are only known to do one thing; produce big gapping holes for people and doo’s to fall through. And it wasn’t funny. Not at all.

But once through the pass the journey was amazing, real Antarctica beckoned. With Fuchs Piedmont to my right, which is white and flat as far as the eye could see, and the mountain ranges of Adelaide to my left. Stunning scenery.

Later that afternoon we arrive at our destination! The base being down at the bottom of another crevasse plagued ice slope! More flagging required, with myself having the dubious honor of planting this seasons first flag!


Once down the slope we meet the incumbent inhabitants of Carvajal… tens of thousands of fur seals! And what odd creatures they are too. Why nature designs a highly communal animal that is so aggressive is beyond me. They bicker all day long.

They weren’t too impressed with us initially either, big lumbering orange bipeds smiling saying “heeeelllllooooooo” is not their idea of a laugh. Attempting to bite us was. Aggressive little blighters. Our other neighbors were 20 or so Elephant seals doing a mightily fine impression of Jabber the Hut, and two penguins!

Morning!

One of the great things about sharing an abandoned base with only five other people is that you can choose from an entire wing where to sleep, which sounds wonderful… in theory. Digressing slightly: I had many a reference from friends regarding the ‘Shinning’ before departing on this gig and it all came to an actuality at Carvajal. I’m telling you, the only thing missing from this photograph are the twin girls on their tricycles… this corridor was truly terrifying!!!

But in actual fact it was a very relaxing time, lots of reading, cooking, drinking, sitting on cliff faces watching the wildlife and sunsets… with no base hassles :-0

As with any ‘holiday’ the end comes around quickly and the journey home was soon to be made. Due to weather and low contrast McCallum’s Pass was not possible – so camping Antarctic styley, and back to base in the morning!

I am now an official Antarctic hero (in my mind anyway!!!)

Laters...

Certain events bring home the reality that the end of the season is nigh. It started last week with the departure of the last planes from Rothera. Having lived with the regular sounds and activities that come with living by a runway, after the Dash 7’s fly-by everything suddenly seemed very quiet. The last two Otters and the Dash head north back to Canada where they will chill out and get ridiculously pampered and massaged for the entire northern hemispheres summer.

Today was a pretty heavy day also… we said goodbye to the majority of the 2006 winterers, some of whom seem like they’ve been at Rothera for 100 years!!! And oh what wags they were!!! One thing I was previously unaware of is that on the eve before departure, it is standard practice for the departing winterers to basically booby trap the entire base, and generally cause mayhem for the new guys. So, after returning from the ship’s bar in the wee hours of the morning, my room is locked and the only way in is to release the safety catch by a long ski pole while standing in the back of a gator and getting someone to give you a leg up. Not ideal in –10 C after a larger shandy or two! By morning the full extend of the ‘pranks’ was becoming more apparent. Ever eaten you cereal with a folk? I did this morning – no spoons! Today we listened exclusively Russian radio. Rice in boots! Our lab literally tied up with rope, the list does go on! With a guaranteed hangover via the generosity of the ship, it’s just how everyone wants to start the day! And you know it… we’ll do just the same to the next mob! Full circle.

But it was sad to say goodbye to so many people that I have lived, worked and played with continually for the last four months. We all gathered at the wharf to wave off the troops heading back to the real world.

The gangplank is raised. This is it; ladies and gentlemen: The Shackleton has left the station. Cheers and tears begin, as do the flares and explosives for the less emotional amongst us. And the even less emotional and complete total nutters take to the chasing the ship in a Rib! Cool effect though guys!

It is strange though how long we did stand there and watch it. There is something very powerful about watching your link to the outside world getting smaller and smaller. I really wonder now how we will all react in three weeks when the RSS JCR departs.

That will leave the 22 staying for the winter behind, and signaling our last physical contact with the outside world until the sea ice breaks up at the start of next summer!

Training Day

In the good ole days training use to generally consist of anything from a half day to five days sitting in an air conditioned room, listening to ladies and gentleman of varying degrees of teaching skill and subject matter knowledge, instill the latest trend within my brain. IT, H&S, Risk Assessment, Managing People Effectively, Fire Extinguishers!!!… I’ve had ‘em all, and generally quite enjoy training, often something amusing will happen over the duration of the course, and most of the time you do come out a finer educated individual. But in well over a decade in Corporate America never did the words ‘crevasse’ and ‘training’ ever get put together.

But in all fareness I suppose the chance of falling through a thin snow crust into a cathedral like underground chasm doesn’t generally concern your average Cambridge MA/UK or New York citizen. Many things do concern those aforementioned folk, just not crevasses.

The entrance is, well – a hole in the snow.

With the aid of only a rope and my (lethal) 16-spike boot crampons the journey down begins.

My initial mental image was drippy and dark. So wrong, so so wrong. The layer covering some of the vertical shafts is literally only a few cm’s thick; thin enough for copious amounts of sunlight to stream down into the ice tunnels, with it’s remarkable blue luminosity.

The pictures help describe the scene below the surface, but the ambiance is harder to capture. It feels like something from a magical fantasyland.

Blimey, isn't nature very clever...

... and very beautiful :)