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!