Feb - Images of Antarctica
People are always asking me what itís like working in Antarctica; we ask ourselves the same questions, since each of us go to different stations and field camps. What can I say? Iíve tried before to put the experience in writing but I usually fall far short of the mark. I take pictures, photography is my hobby. This season I bought a good digital camera which means I can see my pictures while the image is still in my mind. That still does not do justice to the Antarctic. So what to do - talks, public speaking? Most of us are not natural raconteurs. Being a pub bore comes naturally to me; once started I can ramble on about Antarctica until even I notice the listenersí eyes glaze over. At home Iíll talk about my experiences, if prompted, in a genuine attempt to help people understand what Antarctica is all about and what it means to me.
So thatís paragraph one done and we are no further forward in our quest to understand Antarctica. Actually the easy answer is that itís just too big. Statistics tell us that, sorting through the map cupboard the other week I was finding maps with blank uncharted spaces on them. Not old maps either, some modern ones have Ďunchartedí or Ďrelief data incompleteí written on the last empty spaces in the world.
Your own personal little Antarctic world revolves around the people about you. The colleagues who become friends, someone who you did not know three months ago is now a trusted tent mate. Working here does not make you special, but we recruit the sort of person who fits in with the polar lifestyle. You were a unique character before; I guess you just didnít know it. There are friends at home who I would love to show this continent too. They have other priorities however, careers, family and so on. I find that frustrating as I stifle the urge to shake them by the shoulders and shout ďYou just have to see thisĒ in their ear. Perhaps we are nearing the truth; you have to feel this place to even begin to understand.
Yes itís cold, but not always, in summer you can be roasted by the sun reflecting off the snow, stripped to your thermal top as you flog up some hill carrying equipment for our scientists. They are trying hard to understand this place too. As the summer field season draws to a close, sensors are packed up, data recorded and reports written. A lot of hard work has been put in this season, by scientist of all disciplines, in an effort to understand how the planets systems work. The cold is always a potential here. Itís just around the corner in the shadows. It waits for the unprepared and bites when the sun goes behind a cloud or when the wind creeps up from nowhere. Highest, windiest, coldest, weíve all seen the facts.
Itís going to be impossible to mention everyoneís contribution, suffice to say that the teams who stayed at Sky Blu this season worked hard in the cold to make a record breaking depot of fuel for use in future seasons. Others were digging for science. Raising previous depots so that again they can be used next season. On station Technical Services were doing the vital work to keep the station running. Normally modest and behind the scenes their work is vital to survival down here.
Iím struggling with the diary this month as so much has happened, one of our aircraft returned home via the South Pole, so nice to see them. We had lots of visitors, aircraft from Ken Borek Aviation, German aircrew with their Dorniers, the yacht Sedna IV arrived and filmed us and we enjoyed visitors from the cruise ship Professor Molchanov. All this was going on as we worked to bring back our field parties; they have been out camping for up to three months much further south. The James Clark Ross arrived to pick up some scientists and with the end of our season we closed down the camps at Sky Blu and Fossil Bluff. Time for the end of season party, many thanks to the band, singers and stage acts, it was a great night. Morris dancing! In the Antarctic, with our reputation!
We have worked hard but thatís not the reason we come, Iíve been fighting off the urge to use the word extraordinary but now might be the time. Itís just so different to the rest of the world, we all co-operate, we help each other out, we have fun, we enjoy a beer after work, we like a joke, thatís normal isnít it? We donít do politics, or conflict, they have no purpose; life is for moving on, getting the job done, a positive outlook. I fail to understand why the rest of the world does not think like that. Why should this place be different, what is it that makes Antarctica unique, extraordinary even.
As I said you have to feel it. Antarctica bombards the senses, visually itís stunning. From the islands of the northern peninsula with their glaciers slowly calving into the sea, through the tight channels when you think you can reach out from the ship to touch the ice and then south into Crystal Sound. The richness of the Ďmostlyí friendly wildlife in the north slowly fades as you arrive at Rothera. We still have our little Adalie Penguins, Weddle and Fur Seals plus the occasional whale sighting. If you fly further south the mountains of the peninsula stretch to the horizon. Past the welcoming little hut at Fossil Bluff and the landscape broadens out. By the time you reach Sky Blu you have reached the edge of the real wide open spaces, south of here there really is very little. A camp view can be 360 degrees of flat and white. Even here there is much to see. Itís in the detail, frost feathers on guy ropes, foot prints raised up as the surrounding snow is eroded by the winds, drifts around supplies, sun dogs, diamond dust. All so hard to record and explain.
The sounds of the Antarctic are strange too, different to our life at home, people try to record them. Bits of sea ice grinding up against the shore driven by the last of a storms swell. The bow of our ship, coming to take us home, crunching through pack ice and the winds, what can I say of the winds. They push you around, they stop you travelling and they keep you awake in your tent with the noise. Even their absence is strange, for in still conditions there is absolute silence. Even a short distance from Rothera you cannot hear the hum of the engines and itís left to the Antarctic to fill in the gap. If it doesnít there is a silence that is odd in its absence of sense, there really is no sound and you find a temptation to fill the gap with conversation.
Each of us will return with different images, different memories and different perspectives of life in Antarctica. Weíve had a good season, weíve had a few laughs, and weíve had some adventures. The winter team staying behind will continue the game and I hope to return. Iím reminded of two poems by Robert Service, written in the Yukon, where I trained for the BAS job, I hope you enjoy them, they make sense to me.
The Men That Donít Fit In
Thereís a race of men that donít fit in,
A race that canít stay still;
So they break the hearts of kith and kin,
And they roam the world at will.
They range the field and they rove the flood,
And they climb the mountains crest;
Theirs is the curse of the gypsy blood,
And they donít know how to rest.
The Land of Beyond
Thank god! There is always a Land of Beyond
For us who are true to the trail;
A vision to seek, a beckoning peak,
A fairness that will never fail;
A pride in our soul that mocks at a goal,
A manhood that irks at a bond,
And try how we will, unattainable still,
Behold it our Land of Beyond
If you understand, you have to come, if itís not for you, then thatís fine, avoid the Polar Regions. We are different, we have seen Antarctica, we know, we have touched it, we have felt the winds and the cold, and we have hidden from its extremes. But we still donít fully understand, you'll find that faraway look in our eyes, thatís where the answer is.