The end is nigh, the end of night

Hello, and welcome back to my blog!
Things certainly shifted to a slower pace as we stepped into winter, and with it we have settled into a more relaxed routine. It is hard to believe that in only three weeks we will have strangers back on base, and aircraft operating on our front door.

Since my last update, we welcomed the last aircraft of the winter through Rothera, as a brave crew made it's way to the South Pole for a medical evacuation on midwinter's day. Traditionally a major celebration at Antarctic bases, we were all on hold for the week in order to help the operation run as smoothly as possible. We very happily celebrated it's unprecedented success along with midwinters the very next week. A bit more information on the incredible feat and the two Canadian crews can be found here:
https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/speaking-of-science/wp/2016/06/16/a-rare-risky-mission-is-underway-to-rescue-sick-scientists-from-the-south-pole/?postshare=371466177429545&tid=ss_mail
and here:
https://www.nsf.gov/news/news_summ.jsp?cntn_id=139028&org=NSF&from=news
I could go on quite a bit about this event, but all I really want to say is how comforting and inspiring it was to see how, despite everything, so many people worked together to help rescue two humans from the very end of the world on the very shortest day of the year. There is some humanity left, no matter how senseless things have seemed recently.

On a brighter note, it is almost needless to say that once that mission was completed we very happily celebrated both that AND our passing of the solstice, the slow return of daylight.

Thank you Ali Rose for the group photo!

With exactly one week delay, the celebrations began with some time off and some organised activities. The morning of midwinters we had the infamous gift exchange, where we each gave a gift we'd been working on since the ship left to another member of the team. The standard of the gifts was absolutely amazing, ranging from oil paintings to chairs, votive lamps to knives and everyone was absolutely beaming when opening their gift.

After a short pause to clean up a bit, we returned for the feast. And what a feast it was! Our chef, Lewis, absolutely spoiled us with the help of some special thank you ingredients from the chef at the South Pole (it sometimes seems like a large family you haven't met the 9/10ths of).

I'd go on and on about the feast, but the menu pretty much speaks for it's self.

(I said pretty much)

Now besides all the fun and games had over midwinter's week (of which I have very few photos, and none to share here - sorry), we managed to get back to work eventually. With sea-ice forming over our dive sites I had the exciting task I had probably most been looking forward to since November last year: using a chainsaw to cut dive holes in the sea-ice that I would later dive through.

I couldn't make this job description up if I tried!

At the point of cutting, the ice was nearly 40cm thick which allowed us to travel out by ski-doo and have plenty of hands on deck to lug out the blocks of ice. It took a bit of planning and time, but we successfully cleared two dive holes (one main hole and one emergency hole) in an afternoon, and I got to show the boys up a bit by getting to cut the first hols of the season.


Our plan has been to keep these holes useable for the entire time the ice is present, and this means clearing the newly formed ice on nearly a daily basis with the help of a bog-chisel and a hand-saw.
This has become a bit more challenging as of late, due to much messier weather systems, but I'll get back to the shortly.

Epic photo courtesy of Dr Tom Everett

And for now the actual ice diving!

Looking back on our dive hole

Through the ice we go, and with a minute or so to let our eyes adjust, we now have a beautiful blue ceiling above us, and crystal clear waters around us.

Smaller icebergs seen from below

Icebergs dot this horizon with varying shades of vivid blue, and prove to be just as mesmerizing underwater as above it. I get a deep sense of unease from how enthralling they appear, and how easily I could lose sense of everything else by just looking at them. Some sort of spell they cast.

photo by Saz Reed

The world beneath is full of life (so much more so than anything visible in winter months on surface) and even here in Hangar Cove - one of the less interesting sites we dive at- still quite colourful.
The light penetrates much less through the ice than just water, so torches are needed for some of our collections, though I tend to prefer to let my eyes adjust and fully see the much greater image when possible.

Me blowing bubbles! as taken by Saz Reed

The sea ice, besides providing a fun playground for us divers, also becomes a platform on which we can work. We can stage most of the scientific experiments from the ice that we could off the side of boats in summer, and sometimes it's actually easier to have a stable platform to work on.

Walking on the ceiling

A brave group travelled out to one of the sampling sites in front of the Sheldon Glacier (approximately 4km away from base) across 30cm thick sea-ice, to sample water as deep as 500m. 

Standing on 30cm of ice, over 500m+ deep waters. 

There is something unnerving about cutting through the only thing between you and that kind of depth. 

Saz and Walter the Wed

With the appearance of such extensive sea-ice, we have seen a marked decrease in wildlife around base. We still get the beautifully swooping snow petrels, but the rest of the fauna is so heavily dependent on marine resources that they mostly migrate with the edge of the ice. That being said, we found that as soon as we cut some breathing holes for our diving to proceed, we had some very grateful Weddell seals come and inspect them. The Weddell's ability to survive in winter is dependent on their ability to maintain such holes in the sea-ice. As mammals they need to breathe, and though they can hold their breath for incredible durations, they will eventually have to chew or find a hole to breathe through. As they age, their teeth wear down making the job much more difficult and eventually imposible. So, having the luxury of pre-cut holes is a real treat and might even be adding to their life-expectancy (or so I like to think). 

All it took was a lunch break
for this change in weather

I mentioned earlier that were were struggling to keep our diving holes open, well that is because our weather had dramatically changed in the past month. After having relatively calm weather with little snow-fall, we are finally getting to experience a bit more of what an Antarctic winter is built up to be.

By now there is no gap between the roof and the snowdrift. 

Winds have become stronger and more variable, temperatures fluctuating wildly (from +2°C one day to -28°C the next week), and snow has started to fill every possible gap.

Daily digging shores become a bit more tiresome, though I do feel like I've hit a landmark when shoveling snow in a T-shirt in -7°C. (Don't tell my parents, that would be a long time standing next to the heater like they used to make me do for not wearing a coat in the cold).

One of the doorways filled with spindrift.

The thing with snow and high winds down here, is it will get absolutely anywhere, appearing to grow off the walls in narrow areas, and easily reaching the roof overnight.

Just a few nights ago

That being said, It was a beautiful start to the season, allowing some of the crazier of us to go camping in -17°C weather - just for the views.

And with the short day-light the endless show of sunrise/sunset made for some breath-taking skies. I never knew the entire landscape could turn a lavender color, but apparently it can! (Though it won't let you photograph it in that state)

Sunrise and sunset become indistinguishable

I also got some beautiful weather for one of the days of my second winter trip, allowing for incredible views from some peaks to the North of Rothera, and cool clouds on a day of ice-climbing and skiing. All in all it was a great week away from base, and allowed for some good exploration.

Low-lying clouds in the mountains

My camp by night

Another great break from routine we get in Winter is taking turns working night shifts on base. This means we're working 10pm to 8am for a week, checking all the building regularly and that everything is running smoothly while the rest of base sleeps.
I've been finding it remarkably satisfying, having the space to myself for once, and getting to explore it a bit more.
It also leaves a bit more time for painting, or in this case- blogging.

(Stop reading here if you don't want to read some sappy stuff)

Orion tonight with icebergs lit by the full moon

Octopus cake!

 Some of you may know it was my Birthday last month, and despite the location it was very warmly celebrated with fellow expeditionners. I could not be more grateful for the friends and family in my life that made me feel right at home and incredibly loved.

Birthday sunrise coffee

This could very easily be a lonely lifestyle to lead, but it makes all the difference to have such a sturdy net of amazing humans encouraging me to keep on adventuring, and who somehow seem to understand that this is the kind of opportunity I simply could not ignore.




This winter certainly has and is continuing to change my life, who knows to what extent in the end. The relationships I'm forging and the lessons I am learning about myself are incomparable and will hopefully all keep helping me in my quest to be the best possible version of me.

Cliché Metaphorical photo of footprints

If you want some extra bonus photos here are a few randomly selected favourites so far:

Personal favorite group shot of our Winter 2016 team. 

Parahelia, or "Sun Dogs" on a bright day

I have an epic beard now,
thanks to John Law's talents

We've certainly not been starved for quality food and diversity of meals 

The best way of breaking up the monotony
of living on base is to continually reinvent it

Who said camping meant boring food?
Pancakes for breakfast!

And, science is cool - heading out for our first long distance sea-ice trip 

The obligatory "polar hero" photo

A step into winter

Hello Civilization!

You'll be happy to hear I have been successfully nagged into updating this blog, and trying to recap the past 6 months of life at Rothera, so bear with me this might be lengthy.

Waving off the Shack with old flares, as per tradition

So much has changed since my last update, as we have finished a successful summer season and stepped into the much anticipated winter season.

Winter at Rothera, which started on the 26th of March when the R.S.S. Ernest Shackleton left us will last until some time in October when the first planes return.
Now let me introduce you to our team: 21 brave expeditionners with an assortment of jobs to be done.
We have three marine science staff over winter (often referred to as "beakers"), a boatman and dive officer (me!) to help them get the sampling done on a daily basis, a meteorological guru to help us interpret and collect weather data, an electronics engineer to help maintain the complex bits of technology being used here and a communications manager to make sure our lines of contact with the rest of the world remain open. We've got a vehicle mechanic, a generator mechanic, electrician, carpenter and two plumbers to make sure everything we rely on for day-to day living is in good working order and essentially keep us alive. Also here to make sure we stay alive are the four field guides we're lucky to have, allowing us to do winter skill training weeks in the field, our chef - responsible for keeping morale up and bellies full and of course our doctor. In charge of the whole operation is our Winter Base Commander, a former field guide with several winters of experience at Rothera.

Winter 2016 team just starting our season

We've got everywhere from first-time visitors to the most seasoned Antarctic expeditionner ever (who has spent 15 years coming down as a field guide), so there is an absolute wealth of information, and plenty of eager new faces.

On the marine side of things, work has considerably slowed down since the start of winter. We have had more and more challenging weather, the drop in temperatures means the sea froze surprisingly early and we got out to do some sea-ice training and sampling in April.

sea-ice sampling

 

Thick brash ice diving

But then a heat-wave came through, raising temperatures above our warmest summer level and melting it all away. We've had one stubborn leopard seal just hanging around waiting for the boat to get on the water, and eerily watching the divers from a distance - only to be noticed as we're all climbing back on the boat.
Not only are the environmental and biological factors limiting our diving, but we're also now working with a smaller team, which is often split off into other base responsibilities. Between winter trips, days cooking and nightwatch shifts it is a puzzle in it'self to muster a dive team, and even moreso to have the key participants all available on a good weather day. That being said, we've been doing pretty well at keeping up with the sampling schedules we have in place, and have achieved everything that has been physically possible. Our next step will be to cut some holes in the sea-ice and hopefully get some ice-diving underway.

Setting off on our Winter trip

Open mic night with the band

So instead of diving every day, I've been off exploring the other side of Adelie Island on my winter trip, checking fuel levels in generators on my nightwatch, and singing in the band for fun. I've also been servicing all the diving equipment, updating stock assessments and placing orders- but who wants to hear about that side of stuff?

Home for a week

Winter trips involve each of us getting a week's worth of time in the field, with our own field guide to teach us different skills and techniques used for fieldwork, and which may come in handy should we have to assist in search and rescue operations. We live in a pyramid tent, and travel using wooden sledges that have barely evolved since the day of Scott's expeditions, although nowadays they are towed by snowmobiles rather than dogs.

Snow flying past the tent on a lie-up day

The four in my group travelled through a tricky glacial pass to the Western side of Adelaide Island, being the first to successfully make it to the Myth camp site. After about 5 hours of travel, on skidoos (snowmobiles) linked with our loaded sledges containing everything from food to tents, to emergency tents and whiskey, we finally made it to the famed location.

Many card games to keep sane

I spent several days in my tent avoiding the harsh weather, passing the time playing cards and reading, though we sometimes got out climbing and exploring.
After the week away from base (the first time I have gotten to actually be away since arriving in November),

Attempt at climbing Myth

Bright moonlight on the sea

I also got to spend a week on nightwatch, which means I'm working from 10pm until 8 the next morning, ding rounds of the station and making sure everything is running smoothly. In freezing temperatures, it would not take long for essential equipment to be damaged should generators stop working, and it is critical to make sure the proper people are informed as soon as possible.

A by-product of nightwatch: Cointreau Truffles

It also provided one of the few few opportunities to spend some time on one's own, a rare treat when living in such a tight community.

Playing with watercolors on black paper

The other advantage of this solo time is the opportunity to work on our MidWinter's gifts, which we are in the midst of making for a big gift exchange that will take place on the 21st of June when we celebrate the winter solstice and shortest day of the year. (No photos of that since it's still a work in progress, and hopefully a surprise to the recipient!)

Photo credit: Alistair Rose 

This week we had our "Sun down" ceremony, where we marked the beginning of the dark period at Rothera by having our most senior member take down the tattered flag we've been flying this summer. It will be replaced with a new one by our youngest once we get the sun back, some time in mid July.

The rose tinge can always be seen in the clouds

In the meantime we're subjects to stunning never ending sunrise/sunsets, and still have about 5 hours of light, though that will continue to dwindle.

The cloud-scapes are simply stunning

I keep my hopes up for some good diving conditions, and the chance to get out on the ice and cut some holes. But with so many other great distractions and activities I certainly cannot complain - winter life is still an incredible experience.

Sunrise at Myth Camp

Dwindling daylight

Crevasse blues

Layering up for travel

Hopefully blowing bubbles again soon!