A Southern Christmas 2001 - Day 14 (en-route to Polar Bird)

 As you will remember from yesterday's post, we have left Casey to an emotional farewell and are on our way, not home, but further west toward Prydz Bay and one of Aurora's sister ships, Polar Bird, who is not an ice-breaker but is described as being "ice-strengthened".  She's stuck in ice and has been so, for a couple of weeks now, so we're going to see if we can help break her out and get her back on her way.

So, on to Polar Bird…

Saturday 29th December 2001

at sea (64 deg S, 95 deg E)

And so indeed to Polar Bird…

Much of the information I have passed on over the past couple of weeks has been made possible because I’ve been able to frequently refer to an excellent publication by Bernadette Hince entitled The Antarctic Dictionary.  It was here that I found the meaning of the word besetment, which says in part:

“…The immurement of a ship in sea-ice. When a vessel is so completely hemmed in as to have lost its liberty of motion it is said to be beset.”

Well, Polar Bird is most assuredly beset. She is in 10 tenths ice about 30 nautical miles from the open sea. Quite a challenge for our little orange roughie, but one thing which is for sure, Captain Tony Hansen and his crew with the help and support of Voyage Leader, Greg and his team will give it their best shot. Behind us, about five days away, and en route to the Chinese Antarctic base, at Zhongshang is the huge ice-breaker, Xue Long (Snow Dragon). We hope she won’t be needed – but it’s comforting to know she’s not far away.

At about 2.30am as we are passing to the north of the Shackleton Ice Shelf, we run into thick new sea ice. Icebreaking mariners describe the conditions of ice in tenths; thus Polar Bird is beset in 10 tenths pack ice. This morning’s ice is 9 tenths new pack ice. I have been awake until past midnight sending an earlier report and catching up on sorting photographs for later transmission, and I have thus only been in bed for a couple of hours when I am wakened by the sound of ice growling against the side of the ship and the shuddering of the vessel as larger floes are dragged beneath us and demolished by the huge variable pitch propeller. We have slowed considerably.

I decide to visit the ship's bridge and am greeted by the sight of ice in every direction, and little ocean to be seen. Now for the first time we are witnessing what icebreaking is about, and the difficult task ahead of us with Polar Bird still 200 miles to the south-west.

Tony has been on the bridge for about 20 hours at this stage and as I arrive, he is donning his heavy weather gear in preparation for a climb up the mast to the observation platform. There, for the next hour, he peers through powerful binoculars looking ahead and around for clearer water while passing instructions to second mate, Jake who is at the wheel (it's actually a joystick rather than a wheel).

As we proceed further into the ice, we are for the first time seeing Aurora in action, doing what she was designed for. As the snub-nosed bow slowly pushes ahead, a long crack develops in the ice moving away from the bow which gradually widens as the vessel forces its way through. Occasionally the bow will ride up over the top of a floe and bring the full weight of its ballast filled for’ard end down on to it – an impressive experience. All this time, the skipper and his team are looking for a water sky, a thin strip of blue or darker grey sky, low on the horizon which reflects distant water (as opposed to an “ice sky” which reflects the ice).

There is none to be seen, and after an hour of this, it is decided to reverse our track, back to where we started and head further north looking for a clearer passage through to Polar Bird. It’s going to be a long and tiring few days for these guys.