Pete de Joux spent a year at Scott Base, Antarctica, from late 2004 to late 2005, sending regular dispatches to the Wellington Section. Here they are collected in full.
November 2004
After one 7-hour returned flight which got as far as the edge of the Antarctic circle, I finally made it to Scott Base last Saturday. We flew in a C141 Starlifter, which has webbing seats and very little leg-room. You sit facing the opposite row of people, and are so close to them that your feet need to be alternated with theirs. You must wear all your heavy ECW clothing (Extreme Cold Weather), despite the temperature in the aircraft reaching 29 degrees C. When we landed it was minus 25 degrees, but it has since been unseasonably warm at -12 to -18 degrees.
We started our field training almost as soon as we arrived. This involves learning to self-arrest, kick steps, make a snow shelter etc. I definitely learned something. We slept the night in snow shelters and Antarctic tents, which are tall canvas pyramid shapes — just the same design as Scott and Shackleton used almost a hundred years ago. We also learned how to assess the thickness of the sea ice by drilling through it with a hand auger and lowering a tape-measure through the hole. It needs to be at least 75cm thick to safely support a vehicle.
I had one afternoon of vehicle training, and can now drive a Hagglunds, which is an articulated tracked vehicle. It looks like one bulldozer towing another one, only there is no blade at the front. The other vehicle I can drive is a PistenBully. This is a snowgroomer with a passenger cab at the back. And no blade in front. Both vehicles are fun to drive.
I’ve only just started learning how to do my job. I do weather observations at 9am each morning. The instruments are inside, and in a box outside. It is sometimes uncomfortable writing down the data when you take your gloves off on a cold day, but we’re tough down here. Might be a different story once it gets to -50 degrees though. Most of the experiments measure atmospheric values by looking at what frequencies of light are absorbed by various chemicals in the air. Or they use radio energy reflections to see what is happening above us. The ozone layer is looking pretty good above us at the moment.
I’ve been allocated a couple of helicopter flights onto Mt Erebus to help carry batteries for the radio repeater station, but these keep getting cancelled due to high winds. I went cross-country skiing on the sea ice after dinner last night. The sun is still setting for a few hours each night at about 11pm, so you have plenty of time to go out and play. In a few weeks the sun won’t set at all. This sounds great, but you need to make sure you don’t overdo things, because the work during the day is complex and important. When winter rolls around we will have permanent darkness, so we need to enjoy the sun while we can.
Pete de Joux from Antarctica
December 2004
Things are fully busy down here now. Lots of science groups, and a few “distinguished visitors”. The weather has been very warm. It even made it above zero early this week. We wouldn’t normally expect temperatures like this for another month.
Sir Edmund Hillary is visiting us next week. He’s staying for six days. He is down here to commemorate the Air New Zealand tragedy on Mt Erebus, and to dedicate the new warm store building that is being constructed. We have several reporters here, including TV1, TV3, and the Dominion Post. So we have to be careful what we say, lest they discover some juicy story that we’d rather not be made public.
On Tuesday I made it to the mainland of the Antarctic continent. We flew by helo about 300km south (to nearly 80 degrees south), which took about 2.5 hours. We needed to land at a fuel-cache on the way to refuel. Weather was perfect, and the view was amazing. At the refueling point, there was a Twin Otter aeroplane with half a dozen Americans digging out the fuel drums from the snow. They were surprised to see us turning up in such a remote location at the same time as them.
After filling up, we traveled south for another half-hour to an area near the Darwin Glacier. We flew around doing a recce as they looked for a site for future camps. They have quite a bit of science to do there during the next couple of years. Then we looked for a suitable place for me to put an automatic weather station. When we found this, we landed. It took two of us about 1.5 hours to set up the weather station. We were working in a moderate breeze — I’d guess about 15 knots. It was a bit cold, but you could still work with your gloves off for short periods.
We’d been left with our survival gear, handheld VHF radio, an Iridium phone, and a Codan HF radio. The helo took off with the others to continue recce-ing the area. When we’d finished our job, we set up the HF radio to attempt a test call back to Scott Base. We got no reply, but this is probably because the aerial was strung out pretty marginally. The team in the helo had also tried unsuccessfully to call the base on HF, so we’ve learnt that comms for the future camps in the area may be sub-optimal. We’d only just packed up the radio and moved our gear over to the helo landing area, when they arrived to pick us up.
I’ve been selected for the joint NZ-USA secondary SAR team. We’ll be the backup team during the summer, and will be deployed in the event of a large event or two simultaneous ones. They have mountain guides as field trainers during the summer, and they do the primary SAR duties. But during the winter we’ll be the main SAR team. Selection for this team is quite competitive, with 160 people trialling for the 15 places. Two of us from Scott Base were successful.
June 2005
50km south from Scott Base across the ice of McMurdo Sound are two islands. Black Island has had most of its snow removed by the winds. White Island remains snow-covered. Between them is White Strait, which we call “Herbie Alley” because that’s where the worst storms (or “Herbies”) first appear.
We’d had cold conditions for a few weeks, and the ice was likely to be thick enough for reasonably safe and easy travel. So we decided to make an attempt to drive to White Island and hopefully to climb its highest point: Mt Nipha (792m). Different groups from Scott Base made three attempts, so that everyone would have a chance to participate. I led the second trip.
The first trip made it out to the bottom of White Island, before their Hagglunds tracked vehicle developed a fuel starvation problem. They slowly returned to base with the engine only capable of half revs. A rubber seal in the fuel selector valve had rotated and partially blocked the fuel outlet. The temperature outside was -40°C, which may have caused the rubber to shrink.
A few days later, with the vehicle repaired and a reasonable weather forecast, my group left at 8am. We made good progress, and had timed our arrival at White Island for the middle of the day when we’d have enough light to pick out any crevasses. We were following a GPS-route and we also had trip notes from similar expeditions in 2004 and 2002.
Travelling in a vehicle on Antarctic ice is something you need to do quite carefully. The standard routes are marked with flags, and have been checked for crevasses and tide cracks. But once you venture off-road you must find your own safe path. Even reasonably gentle slopes can contain quite large crevasses, and the transition from ice onto solid land is often quite treacherous.
Travel was easy along the marked route towards Black Island. White Strait contains a broken-up area where dust and gravel from Black Island has been deposited onto the ice. The darker colour of the gravel attracts solar radiation, and in summer melting occurs around the rocks. Adjacent cleaner areas of ice don’t melt as quickly. The result is a broken and jagged landscape that would be difficult to traverse if our American friends hadn’t maintained the road using their bulldozers. They have a satellite communications station on Black Island, and need to drive there regularly.
We had an uneventful trip, with no crevasses spotted on our path. At -30°C the temperature was warmer than the previous group had experienced, and the vehicle performed faultlessly. We traversed across White Island in a north-easterly direction with the terrain climbing gently until we reached Mt Henderson. We stopped to refuel the vehicle from drums of diesel, and took lots of photos. Then we turned north, and headed towards the base of Mt Nipha. We parked the Hagglunds and scrambled up the 100 vertical metres to the summit. It was a mixture of frozen scree, ice, and soft snow. With my cold-weather mountain boots, ice axe and crampons we made steady progress to the cairned summit. After a celebratory group photo, we descended and drove home.
July 2005
As I write this, it is mid June. The shortest day of the year is only a week away and we’ll celebrate with a mid-winter party and a polar plunge. It is now dark all the time, but in the middle of the day there’s still a faint blue colour in the sky and a red glow on the horizon to the north. It is also getting colder, so I’ll make a few observations about “cold”.
When I first arrived here in October, I thought that -15°C was pretty cold. Now I’d call it a warm day. The difference is partly explained by acclimatising to the temperature. But we’ve also learned to manage the clothing systems to stay warm. We were issued with a mountain of clothing, and each of us needed to work out which garments and gloves provide the best balance between insulation from the outside temperature and preventing sweating inside the clothing.
My customary outer layer is a one-piece insulated suit that we call a bunny suit. It is really a garment designed for people who work in freezers. Most other staff wear Fairydown down-insulated jackets and salopettes, or insulated canvas garments made by the Carhartt company in America — these are very good. We are given polypro neck gaiters that can be pulled up around the face, as well as a balaclava. My usual head covering is a beanie hat plus an American ski mask that looks like something Hannibal Lector would wear. I find this provides enough protection for exposed skin on my face whilst still allowing me to breathe without my goggles fogging up.
Yesterday I was working outside on the Ross Ice Shelf about 40 minutes drive from the base. There was no wind, and the temperature was minus 40. The air was full of tiny ice crystals that sparkled in the light from the vehicle, or my head torch. Despite the air temperature, I was toasty warm in my bunny suit and ski mask. I had two layers of clothes under the bunny suit, and wore polypro liner gloves and leather work gloves. I also carried thick insulated mittens with chemical heat pads inside them, but didn’t need to use them. If the wind had been blowing more than a few knots, I would have felt the cold. Windchill is the big killer, not the ambient air temperature.
At minus 40, the vehicles take twenty minutes to warm up. We drive Toyota Landcruisers that are fitted with an electrical heater in the block. When we park the vehicle, we plug it in to an extension cord at our “hitching rail” and this keeps the engine temperature warm enough to ensure we can start it. There’s also an electric fan heater in the cab, controlled by a thermostat. The cabin temperature when we first get into the vehicle is usually nice and warm at about freezing point. At minus 40, the gearbox oil is very thick and sluggish. It is difficult to change gears until it warms up.
September 2005
“Here’s the situation,” said Lonnie, the Winter SAR Leader. “Jack and Jill were walking the Castle Rock Loop, when they had an argument. Jack stormed off in anger, and has checked back into McMurdo Station. Jill hasn’t checked in, and is now two hours overdue. We’ve searched everywhere in town, and it is assumed that she isn’t here. That’s all the information we have.”
The temperature is minus 30°C and there’s a 20-knot northerly wind. This means serious windchill — the human body will lose heat at the same rate as on a calm day at minus 60°C. Anyone stuck in the open, or down a crevasse will be in serious trouble.
“Pete, I want you to take command of the team today. Bo and I are both unavailable.”
My heart rate went up a notch or two. Why me? I’d better do a good job — someone’s life might depend on my decision-making.
The first step is to send out a hasty team to drive around the Castle Rock Loop to check any shelters. They will concentrate on covering the ground fast, rather than a thorough grid search. Meanwhile, the rest of the team will assemble all our medical and rigging equipment into another vehicle.
“Jay, you’re our primary medic. Can you take a small medical kit and go with Rex and Jack. I’d like you to take a PistenBully vehicle and drive around the Castle Rock Loop from the Arrival Heights end. Stop and check the NASA satellite dome, the two emergency shelters, and anywhere you see open crevasses or footsteps. Just take a climbing rope and your personal gear. Let’s get moving as quickly as possible, and give me a radio check on MacOps frequency when you are mobile. Any questions or suggestions?”
First task accomplished. I’d got the hasty team away.
“Greg, can you please start loading the rest of the medical gear into the Hagglunds. Deborah can help you. We’ll need the Stokes Litter, KED and SKED, as well as the hypo-wrap and normal medical kits. The rest of us will concentrate on loading all the rigging gear and ropes. We’ll take the Arizona Vortex in case we need to rescue Jill from a crevasse. Let’s aim to be away from here in fifteen minutes. Any questions or suggestions?”
(The scenario was a training exercise — but as realistic as possible. All participants acted as if it was real.)
The SAR team training was one of the highlights of the winter. We’ve trained every fortnight, and have covered technical rope systems, avalanche rescue, patient packaging, communications, and command-and-control. Having real mountain guides as instructors has been a privilege.
October 2005
Yesterday I stood in the sun for the first time in several months. Astronomically speaking, the first sunrise was ten days before this. But Scott Base sits at the bottom of a hill facing south, and the sun needs to be well above the horizon before we emerge from the shadows. It is interesting how some small things can become very important. We were all quite excited about seeing the sun.
Last week was the “winfly” period. During the week we received four flights from New Zealand of C-17 Globemaster aircraft. These aircraft are operated by the United States. I was out at the Pegasus ice runway when the first flight landed. Some people were cheering, because winfly marks the end of the winter period of isolation.
Personally, I had mixed feelings as I watched the aircraft arrive. I was happy because it would bring us fresh food, mail, and parcels containing new toys. But it was also a little bit sad. I had really enjoyed the winter experience, and now it was over. It also means that my year on the ice is drawing to a close.
In six weeks time the summer series of flights will commence. These are the “mainbody” flights that bring in our replacement crew, lots of scientists, some VIPs, and all the hustle and bustle that occurs when a season’s worth of activity needs to be compressed into the three or four months of summer.
In preparation for one of the science visits, three of us had driven out onto the sea ice a week earlier. We went about 20km northwest of the base to drill holes and assess the ice thickness. Some years the ice in McMurdo Sound breaks up and drifts away, but this hasn’t happened for the last six years. Consequently, the sea ice is quite thick but also of an inconsistent quality where melt pools had developed on the surface during summer, and subsequently refrozen.
The sea ice where we drilled was about five or six metres thick. We’d expect new ice to be one or two metres thick at this time of the year. The inconsistent quality of the old sea ice is causing concerns for the Americans, who normally build a sea ice runway close to their base.
November 2005
By the time you read this I will be back home. I feel very privileged to have experienced the full four seasons here, but it has passed very quickly. The winter was definitely the best part, and anyone who only comes here during the summer is missing an amazing experience.
Our replacement crew arrived last week, and the population of the base has risen from 18 to 55 people. The “newbies” are all very excited about being here, and are constantly staring at the view out the window, or at the temperature gauges inside the base — just like I was a year ago.
My handover to the new science technician has been completed, and I’ll fly back to Christchurch tomorrow. I have a few days of debriefing and then it’s home to Wellington. I’ll start back in my regular job two days later.
There are a few things that I will miss, and some that I won’t. I won’t miss the smell of the wastewater plant. All our sewage is treated in a biological plant very close to my lab, before being discharged into McMurdo Sound at a quality that is no worse than the background bacterial levels of the sea. Unfortunately, the “poo plant” doesn’t always cope well with changing population numbers on the base — particularly in summer.
I’m looking forward to having two-day weekends again, and not working on every single “day off”. We work whatever hours are required down here, and the daily weather observations still need to be done at 9am every day.
I will miss the camaraderie of a team that works together to support each other. We were just like a big family, and I can honestly say that they have been a high-quality bunch of people to spend time with. We had lots of laughs, but most of all I was impressed with the competence of the base staff. Every one of them was good at their own job, but could also help with just about anything else that needed to be done.
One of the highlights was flying by helicopter to the Darwin Glacier to install a weather station. This remote and rarely visited area is 300km south of Scott Base, and will be the site of intensive science study in the next few years. We had about an hour of ground time to do our job, and had just completed it when the helicopter returned to pick us up.
The other highlight was being part of the Joint Antarctic Search And Rescue Team (JASART), and training with them every fortnight. We had a lot of fun, and I’ve made some very good friendships with the two other Kiwis and the ten Americans on the team.
I’m looking forward to catching up with all my Alpine Club friends when I get back. Don’t ask me if I saw any polar bears — they’re only found in the Arctic.
Pete de Joux, Scott Base, November 2005