A Southern Christmas 2001 - Day 8

 It is a pleasant surprise to see how many people have been reading these little posts. The last time I looked at the data, it showed that there have been more than 200 views and the number continues to grow and since one or two folk have asked me to keep going, I will. I require little encouragement.

As I state at the introduction to each day's entry, please start (HERE), if this is the first time you have visited this site.

The last entry of my journal had us arriving in Casey base, so as many a schoolboy saga would say, now read on… 

 

Sunday 23^rd December 2001

Casey Base, Australian Antarctic Territory

Finally, we are here, and nature has provided us with another bonzer day. If this is Antarctica, move over Gold Coast. The sun shone from a cloudless sky, with hardly a breath of wind all day - what was Scott’s problem?

A sobering moment came later today when we heard the three-day forecast. In short, make the most of this, the blizzard is due within the next couple of days.

Shortly before breakfast we dropped anchor in Newcomb Bay about a kilometre offshore from the characteristic red, orange, green and blue sheds which we had seen on so many photographs and films featuring Casey. The Base is just over 30 years old, having been established in 1969 when Wilkes, on the opposite side of the bay, was closed because of snow accumulation and poor site selection - but more on Wilkes later.

The Casey Station Leader is Paul Cullen. He has spent the past 13 months here and like almost all the fifty or so people on station, he will be returning to Hobart with us. Paul came on board and warmly welcomed us to the Antarctic continent. We had earlier all received an email explaining the rules of the Station, but it was clear from Paul’s personal address that his mission, before he leaves this place is to ensure that we all accomplish what we have set out to achieve by coming here.

Yann and I were on one of the first boats ashore and a small group of us were soon carefully descending a rope ladder from the ship’s side on to a barge and into waiting inflatable rubber boats (IRBs), also known as Zodiacs. We were to become better acquainted with those little IRBS over the next 24 hours.

We set foot at the busy landing wharf area which looks just like any working construction site that you might see anywhere in the world. Here we became acquainted with another form of transport with which we were to become familiar during our stay – the Hägglunds. The Hagg as it is more simply known, is a tracked all-terrain diesel-powered vehicle with an enclosed cabin connected to a tracked trailer cabin. The Hagg and the quad motorcycles have long since replaced dogs and sleds as the means of transport around Antarctic bases and all Antarcticans are appreciative of its value and reliability. Paul Cullen was our driver, and we were driven the half kilometre or so, up the hill through a narrow laneway of packed ice and snow to the heart of Casey, the Red Shed.

This is the home of the Caseyites – a two-story, steel-clad red building which houses the dining room, kitchen, lounge and bar of Casey and accommodates most of its winter and summer expeditioners. It is also the home of the library and the cinema (the Odeon) and is the place of congregation for all. Although modest and unprepossessing in outside appearance it provides a warm, lodge type atmosphere once inside. We stamped our way through the double entry doors, shaking packed snow from our feet as we walked in. Our heavy sheepskin lined Sorel boots and windproof Ventile outer garments were removed and left close to the exit door where we signed the fireboard, a critical requirement for everyone entering or leaving the Red Shed. This is how our hosts know who is in or out and where we are (particularly visitors); all of which is important in an environment where fire and blizzard will not forgive the careless.

Our mission today was to visit Wilkes station and after a welcoming cup of coffee and a quick lunch, we made our way to the stores shed to get survival packs needed for our short trip to Wilkes. All travellers who go off station must take a survival pack – even an hour’s journey could, in the case of an unexpected snowstorm require an overnight stay in poor conditions. The pack contains sleeping bag, bivi bag, essential rations and first aid kit.

Our host was Dr Martin Riddle, Program Director for Human Impact Studies at AAD and who has been in Casey for the summer. Martin is a marine biologist and is responsible for much of the work which is carried out at the Antarctica bases and surrounding waters. He is thus greatly involved in the work associated with the waste clean-up at Casey’s Thala Valley site and at Wilkes.

Wilkes Station was formally a US base, established in the International Geo-physical Year of 1957. It was handed over to Australia in 1959 who operated the station until the late 1960s after which the replacement site at Casey came into operation as Wilkes slowly became buried under its accumulation of snow and ice. The station is directly opposite Casey on the other side of the bay, about an hour’s Hagg ride away. Both stations are clearly visible from Aurora as she sits easily at anchor in the middle of the bay.

The clean-up at Casey’s Thala Valley site with its 3,000 tonnes of waste and contaminated soil which will be removed over the next three or four years via our donated purpose-built bins is a test for the ultimate clean-up at Wilkes. Wilkes has ten times more waste than there is at Casey and the landscape from one end to the other at

Wilkes is strewn with discarded fuel drums (some empty, some full), tin cans, containers, buildings and gas cylinders. It is only by using the information learned from the Thala Valley clean-up that a clean-up at Wilkes can be planned and executed.

There are at least 3,000 two hundred litre (44 gallon) drums at Wilkes which at one time contained diesel or fuel oil. Wilkes is a land-based Marie Celeste literally frozen in time, with stores and provision abandoned without prospect or expectation of recovery. Boxes strewn around the area contain antique tins of Golden Circle fruit salad, Holbrook’s sauce, and other unmistakably Australian provisions. Although we didn’t see any use by dates, all the products were marked in pounds and ounces, with many familiar names from the past such as Vesta soap.

Quite clearly, it is not just a simple case of marching in and picking the stuff up. The risk to the environment that wholesale collection of materials will cause has to be assessed, hence the requirement to understand the outcome of the Thala Valley process. Equally there are items where further delay will certainly cause damage as old cans of powder slowly rust away and are in danger of creating a condition where there will be nothing to collect but scraps of iron oxide and whatever was in these cans whether it is soap, caustic or worse will be absorbed into the environment. The risk with the oil drums is even more unambiguous. Leave them and they will surely and eventually deposit their crud on the landscape; disturb them without care, and it will happen anyway.

It could be argued that the Antarctic continent is vast and that the amount of pollution caused by human impact is minimal. However, when one considers that these bases are situated on one of the few partially ice-free areas on the continent, representing less than one-tenth of one percent of the land mass, and that this is the very reason why much of the flora and fauna need access to this region to breed and survive, then the argument becomes more difficult to sustain.

AAD and the Australian government are to be applauded for their efforts in developing an ambitious program to meet their Madrid Protocol commitments and for the first time Yann and I were able to fully understand the enormity of the task which Martin Riddle, Tony Press, Kim Pitt and the team at Kingston and Casey are facing. I’m so pleased that we can help in making this program happen.

As we walked through Wilkes on what was really a magnificent summer’s day in this ice paradise an occasional lone Adelie penguin would approach us, and cocking its head to one side and peering at us through a single eye, would curiously but fearlessly assess us. The penguins seem as interested in we creatures who, like them, walk upright and pose no immediate threat, as we are in them. Let’s hope they are right, and it stays that way.

A Southern Christmas 2001 - Day 7

Well, here we are dear reader, a week into my self-indulgent trip down memory lane. I hope you are still with me.  If this is your first visit to this site - please go back to Day 1 (HERE) and rejoin us when you have caught up. 

Christmas Day at sea - let's get into it...

Saturday 22nd December 2001 (Aurora’s Christmas Day)

at sea (66 Deg S, 110 Deg E)

Early tomorrow morning we arrive at Casey and work will start straight away on the jobs of getting fuel ashore to the Station and commencing cargo operations. December 25 will be just like any other working day, with too much work going on for anyone to take more than just a moment to celebrate the day. So we celebrated Christmas Day today, December 22 while we are still about 60 or so miles from Casey Base. For the same reason, a similar event was taking place in Casey as like us they celebrated early in anticipation of the work to come over the next few days.

The day began quietly with Aurora proceeding on her way through sea ice with an occasional iceberg drifting past on one or the other side of us. As the name suggests, sea ice is formed from frozen sea. It is generally about a metre thick, but this varies as the ice is formed and floes drift together. Icebergs on the other hand, originate from land ice. To this we can add all the variations such as growlers and bergy-bits, but more on this later.

Later in the morning, we gathered in the Mess Room to receive a briefing about the day and to listen to some of the things that our expeditioners plan to do during the week we’ll be at Casey. Mark told us about the team of three glaciologists who are travelling with him to Law Dome, an area about eight to ten hours travel by tracked vehicle inland from Casey and, as the name suggests on an elevated plateau. In this area, the ice is over a kilometre thick. Australian National Antarctic Research Expeditions (ANARE) have been taking bore samples here which provide information on ice which is up to 100,000 years old.

By testing the sedimentary deposits, salinity and general composition of this ancient ice, we learn invaluable information relating to climate change patterns and conditions that have existed over centuries of formation of Antarctic ice. Other expeditioners told us of the work they are doing on mosses and lichen and its growth rate over many years. In the search for possible forms of life on other planets, the survival and growth of such organisms in an otherwise hostile environment gives tremendous information on what may be expected in these conditions.

Of course, the real highlight of the day was Christmas Dinner. Apart from those on watch-keeping duty, at 3 pm sharp, the whole of the ship’s crew and all the expeditioners sat down to one of the most magnificent feasts imaginable. Honey glazed leg ham, sirloin of beef, roast turkey and cranberry sauce, Moreton Bay bugs, Tasmanian crayfish, prawns, salmon, oysters all made for a banquet which would have gratified Neptune himself.

Toasts to family and loved ones were shared as well as to the skipper and crew, with the loudest cheer of all reserved for the catering staff whose efforts were magnificent.

At 5 pm we eased ourselves away from the tables and gathered under the Christmas Tree in the library to await the arrival of Santa and his elves, and what a great looking bunch they were when they arrived. Earlier, we had all participated in a Kris Kringle where we each put a small gift under the tree for a fellow traveller whose name we had each drawn from a hat.

It was an excellent way to share the pleasures of giving and receiving without knowing the giver’s name. Although the logo on the caps might have been a bit of a clue to the guys who received our gifts!

As the evening progressed the next significant event was the auction run by ship’s captain, Tony Hansen. I mentioned in an  earlier entry that Aurora’s crew have adopted Camp Quality as their sponsored charity. Ship’s bosun, Per gave us all a personal account of the crew’s continuing involvement with this wonderful organisation which has for over 40 years dedicated itself to improving the quality of life for kids facing cancer. 

This was no ordinary auction – the items being auctioned were all the same – hair! Wintering Station Leader, John Rich started the ball rolling by offering his hair and beard for $1,000. John is one of those quietly spoken, gentle men with a Lincoln-like demeanour and a wonderful statesman-like beard which he told us, his wife had never seen him without. The money was quickly raised, and Elvis arrived complete with star-spangled overalls and dark glasses. To the tune of Blue Suede Shoes, John was rapidly transformed into a chrome-dome. A succession of candidates followed including second cook Mark, with his Frank Zappa locks and krill lady, Angela whose transformation from yesterday’s Queen Neptune to today’s Sinead O’Connor was a sight to see. All together about a dozen lined up to be sheared and the next morning at breakfast we suddenly had a whole group of new faces to get used to.

The evening was topped off for me by the most beautiful Antarctic evening I could have imagined. As midnight approached the sky which had earlier in the day, and generally throughout the voyage been quite overcast became clear and unclouded. The sun drifted toward the western horizon and stayed just an outstretched hands-width above the ocean’s edge. It was a great sight to watch Aurora’s shadow stretching to the east and reflecting from a nearby giant iceberg while the sea shimmered like a lake. A great end to another magnificent day in one of the truly great spots to be on Earth.

A Southern Christmas 2001 - Day 6

 If you are reading this for the first time and haven't been following from the beginning - please DON'T! 

Kindly go back (HERE) and read my introduction and journal entry for Day 1 and hopefully we'll see you here soon.

Our days were getting busier - but we were getting closer to our destination and were about to enter the sea ice.  Read on...

Friday 21st December 2001

At sea (63 Deg S, 113 Deg E)

Tomorrow is the official longest day of the year and will be Aurora’s Christmas Day. We will be arriving and setting to work at Casey on the 25^th, so it has been agreed that this year, Santa will make a special early trip to our little part of the world. If tomorrow is anything like as long and eventful and enjoyable as today has been, then we’re in for a treat.

Most of us retired early last night – the ship was taking quite a beating and so were we. We had been experiencing severe gale conditions most of the day and many folk retired to their dongas to ride out the poor conditions.

At around 0200, the sea started to get calmer and by 0230 we were in a sea that was nothing more than a gentle swell. We were approaching the sea ice and by 4 am we were in the thick of it. What a spectacular sight. All day we have made our way through ice which at various times covers from ten to fifty per cent of the sea. It’s difficult to do justice to the scenery by simply writing about it. I’m sure much better poets and literary artists than me have tried and failed.

It is like being on another planet. We have all seen before, on countless documentaries the shapes and the shades of white and blue, but to see it for myself is like nothing I have experienced before. Little wonder that people keep coming back.

At one stage during the day, from horizon to horizon I was able to see majestic shapes of giant icebergs, looking for all the world like mountains, ocean liners, and city skyscrapers. Occasionally a small group of seals would stare at us from their ice floes as we passed and from time to time, we saw the odd minke whale.

Later in the morning we participated in a lifeboat drill which required all members of crew and expeditioners to muster on the helideck in full survival gear, complete with lifejackets. The drill went without a hitch with expeditioners responding immediately to the seven short and one long blast from the ship's siren over the intercom system. 

A couple of hours later, Yann and I sat in our cabin reviewing our video shoot of the drill. Our cabin door was open and we may have had the volume on the playback just a little too loud. It was a little embarrassing when two or three irate expeditioners, in full survival gear, complete with lifejackets arrived at our door having responded to what they thought was a second drill. Somehow I don't think we'll be allowed to forget this!

Following the safety drill, we carried out our krill trawl. Angela and a team from AAD are here to collect live krill samples (hopefully a few thousand) and carry out studies which will help us further understand these remarkable little creatures. Krill is like a tiny shrimp, as big as your little finger and abundant in the Southern Ocean. They are the main feedstock of most of the Antarctic animals including whales, seals, penguins, birds and fish, yet little is known about them. Many of us gathered to observe the activity on the Trawl Deck as Angela and her team, under the guidance of the Chief Mate, lowered a huge net which Aurora slowly trawled for about 15 minutes. We did this twice, but today’s catch recovered a few jellyfish, some squid and a several tiny fish and worms, but sadly only two krill. We will try again at Casey if time and weather permits.

The highlight of the day’s activities occurred later in the afternoon, just before dinner. To a fanfare of blaring conch horns and drums, King Neptune with his Queen and entourage entered the house  – and what an entourage it was. With a team of fearsome enforcers looking variously like Incredible Hulk, Angry Anderson and Zaphod Beeblebrox (complete with two heads), Neptune and his stunning Queen made their way into the E Deck Mess. Here Voyage Leader, Greg humbly beseeched His Majesty to make welcome those first-time travellers who had entered his Antarctic Domain. There were about 15 or 20 of us, including officers, crew and expeditioners who were venturing for the first time – or in the case of the second mate, had been getting away with coming down here for years without ever once getting caught.

My French colleague, Yann was singled out,  being held accountable for a long list of Gallic transgressions ranging from the Moruroa Atoll and the Rainbow Warrior incidents to the Davis Cup. Yann was sprayed with water pistols (filled with gin) and painted with Vegemite. He humbly apologised on behalf of the entire French Nation and was eventually admitted to the Frozen Domain after kissing the feet of the beautiful Queen and her fearsome King. Bad as this might have been, I believe the worst treatment was saved for the little grey-haired guy from the waste company who somehow managed to carry the responsibility for 100 years of human activity in the Antarctic Region. Since I was the last to be seen by His Awfulness, it seemed they had nothing else to do with the rest of the ice in the bin they had but to put it all down the front and back of my shirt. I think it will be a week before I manage to get all the Vegemite out of my hair.

The ceremony concluded with a sumptuous barbecue on the Trawl Deck attended by all expeditioners, officers and crew who weren’t on watch. There really was no better place to be on the planet.

Tomorrow is Christmas Day...

A Southern Christmas 2001 - Day 5

Please remember, if you're reading this for the first time, stop and go back to the beginning HERE.

Otherwise welcome to Day 5 on our Antarctic saga...

Thursday 20th December 2001

at sea (61 deg S, 125 deg E)

We’ve had the smooth and now we’re getting the rough. It is as if having been granted smooth passage through the furious fifties, we’ve had to make up for it in the shrieking sixties. We crossed the 60th parallel at about 1230 and the barometer fell rapidly.

The big excitement of the day, however, was the iceberg sighting. The first one was spotted this morning at 0230, which ended the ice raffle and raised $150 towards Camp Quality when Ian, one of the meteorologists on the way south for his fifth winter donated his prize. However, since it was at half-past two in the morning, not many people other than Jake the second mate who was on watch at that time, were able to see it. It wasn’t until a little later that morning that we got to see the object for which we had all been waiting.

At about 10 am, a bunch of us were clustered around the bridge when the skipper drew our attention to a blip on the radar about 10 miles dead ahead of us. As we got closer, it loomed out of the mist on our starboard side. It was a monster, looking like a big white rocky island with cliff faces on all sides and waves breaking against it. It was at least 40 or 50 times the size of the ship, like a massive silvery-blue Gibraltar drifting ever so slowly in a northerly direction. It was so close that we could make out the discolouration from some organism, algae maybe, on its upper parts. It was a spectacular introduction to this great south land and filled us all, especially the first trippers with great anticipation of what was to come. We saw another two or three as the day wore on, although most of them were too far away to see their features and were nothing like that first spectacular sight.
After this, the weather deteriorated and by later afternoon we were heading into the teeth of a strong gale with winds of 35 to 45 knots and six to eight metre waves crashing over the bow and occasionally going straight over the top of the bridge. By early evening, our speed was down to six or eight knots as we diverted course slightly further south-south-west to get into the sea ice earlier and provide some calmer conditions.
This would be a good moment to mention the ship’s bridge and the attitude that the officers and crew of Aurora have toward the expeditioners. The bridge is without a doubt the congregation point; and all the officers and crew without exception, make their passengers welcome throughout the voyage. As an old ship’s engineer in a former life, I will always remember that the engine room is the real heart of a ship. This is where you will find the thrust and the muscle and the energy needed to get us to our destination – but the bridge is where the decisions are made; where the eyes and ears see, and the voice communicates. Little wonder that during my own sea days, I would spend as much time that I could on the ship’s bridge, rather than down below in the artificial light of a hot and noisy engine room.
Captain Tony Hansen has been a most gracious and informative host to us all. No question is too inane or pointless and no request for information is too much trouble to answer. Yet throughout this his officers and crew go about the task with an air of professionalism of which the ship’s owners and the Australian Antarctic Division can be justifiably proud.
I haven’t had a chance to talk more about the scientists today. Angela is our krill expert who will be collecting them as we approach the ice edge. Tonight’s krill fishing has been postponed due to the poor weather – more about this tomorrow.
 

A Southern Christmas 2001 - Day 4

A reminder - if you've never seen this before, please go HERE to read the Introduction and Day 1 - otherwise, read on...

Wednesday 19th December 2001

At sea (57 deg S, 130 deg E)

The weather deteriorated slightly, although we are still getting a relatively smooth passage as we continue our south-westerly course. At noon today, we were about halfway to our destination, nearly 1,000 nautical miles (1,875 km) from Hobart and another 1,000 to go. 

We are now at 57 degrees South latitude and the sea temperature is down to about 3 degrees C, about a degree below the outside air temperature. The wind has swung to the northeast as we skirt around the eastern edge of a huge weather depression to the west of us. The barometer has dropped to 975 HPa and visibility is down to about 250 metres, but we are still making good time at 16 to 17 knots. Here ends the meteorological report.

Today’s training session was on survival. Voyage Leader Greg, a mountaineer and training consultant in his other life, gave us an excellent demonstration on the use of the Bivi Bag which is like a huge sack made from weather-proof material (not waterproof since it never rains in Antarctica). The word "bivi", of course, comes from bivouac, for which we should always be prepared even if only a few tens of metres from camp.

I have previously mentioned the number of scientists on board, and over the last couple of days Yann and I have had the chance to understand what it is that they do and their passion for their specialist fields. For example, John, a zooplankton biologist, has been streaming a Continuous Plankton Recorder (CPR) from the stern of the ship ever since we left Hobart. The CPR catches plankton in a type of Swiss roll material which sits about ten metres below the surface and which slowly but continuously winds itself on as we move south. When it gets to the end of the roll, as it did this morning he collects and counts the plankton and records where it was collected, thus providing a record of plankton abundance between Tasmania and the Antarctic shelf.

Another of the scientists on board this trip is Steve from the University of New England who has been counting the large kelp rafts that drift past the ship. This helps in providing data to determine the potential for the dispersal of kelp-associated organisms. For a long time, scientists have questioned why islands such as Macquarie Island and other sub-Antarctic land masses like Heard Island, although many millions of years different in their ages, and over 5,000 km apart, have similar fauna. Steve’s work, plays a valuable role in providing a better understanding of the importance of that circumpolar currents play in the distribution of organisms across the Southern Ocean. This in turn, of course plays a significant part in contributing to a better understanding our planet’s health.

Tonight we were provided with our rosters for Casey, where, if present conditions prevail, we will arrive mid-afternoon on the December 22, (our Christmas Day). We also learned that King Neptune is due to pay us a visit on Friday afternoon to seek retribution from all those first-timers who have dared to cross the 60th Parallel without his permission. 

It remains to be seen what this holds in store for us. 

Until tomorrow...

A Southern Christmas 2001 - Day 3

 If I may repeat yesterday's comment: please go back and start (HERE) if you have not yet read the introduction to this series - otherwise read on and enjoy, as we get into Day 3 of the great southern adventure...

Tuesday 18th December 2001

At sea

It's a superstition at sea never to talk about how fair the weather is, otherwise the sea gods may take it away. This is just one of many little chestnuts like whistling up the wind (which is either bad luck if it brings bad weather, or good if it brings much needed wind and you're in a sailing ship) and sighting an albatross (which also works both ways).  

Per Hansen, Aurora's archetypal Danish bosun, (more correctly these days, Senior Integrated Rating) reminded me of this when he overheard me saying that the sea could easily be mistaken for the Mediterranean at its best.  Nevertheless, the weather could almost be described as balmy and we are making 17 to 18 knots in a gentle swell and a light westerly breeze which could almost be called a zephyr – and this is at 53 degrees South latitude which is well inside the furious fifties. I’m not going to write any more about the weather today in case Per is right.

We received a message from Antarctic Division today giving us, and all other staff at AAD an update on the voyage schedules of Aurora and one of her sister ships, Polar Bird which is on a supply trip to Mawson. Polar Bird is not an icebreaker, she’s regarded as ice-capable, and she has been stationary in heavy ice conditions in Prydz Bay for about 12 days. Polar Bird is apparently in no danger and is accessible by helicopter, but at the moment she is beset.

If the situation with Polar Bird continues, a decision will be made after our arrival at Casey whether Aurora is to be re-routed to assist. Although there are not yet plans to do this, we are taking advantage of the fair weather (sorry, prevailing weather conditions) to travel at optimum speed to Casey thus providing an opportunity to divert if needed.

Interest in the Ice Sweep is growing, with some pundits wagering that it will be as early as tomorrow night when we see our first berg. Proceeds from the raffle will go to Camp Quality, the charity adopted by the officers and crew of Aurora which provides great benefits and opportunities to under-privileged kids. As I wrote yesterday, the iceberg must be at least as big as the ship, the sighting must be independently verified and under no circumstances are we to bribe the captain or any of the officers to use the radar or alter course in any way. I’m punting for Thursday mid-morning.

Today's training was on clothing and the risk and avoidance measures for hypothermia and frostbite. Although much of this is aimed at the winterers and the researchers who will be working away from the base station, the training is essential for all who travel to the Antarctic and is a reminder that this is not just another trip to the seaside. There is talk of additional training in abseiling down on to the ice from the deck of the ship later on in the voyage as part of crevasse safety training - something to get excited about!

I continue to be in awe of the work done by the scientists on board and their commitment and devotion to the job they are doing in understanding the part this corner of the world plays in the whole global life cycle. Little wonder there is so much enthusiasm in keeping this place pristine and unsullied by humanity's frequent appetite for destructive exploitation.

More tomorrow...

A Southern Christmas 2001 - Day 2

If you are reading this for the first time and didn't read yesterday's post - Stop! Kindly go back (HERE) and read my introduction and journal entry for Day 1 and then, of course - please come back.

Today's entry was quite short - they get longer as the trip progresses, but not too long, I hope!

 Monday 17th December 2001

At sea

Today a few of us got to understand why Aurora Australis is sometimes unkindly called the “Orange Roughie.” Personally, I was pleased to discover that although it is more than 25 years since my sea-going days, I still seem to have immunity from sea sickness. Sadly, not all my shipmates are as fortunate and there was only a handful of us who turned up at 0730 for breakfast. My colleague and cabin mate, Yann from our waste research establishment in Paris, was one of the casualties with a ruthless case of mal de mer which saw him incapacitated until later that afternoon.  I’m pleased to say that after a couple of pills and a good sleep he joined us all for dinner that evening and was soon feeling and looking much more like his earlier self.

 We are presently about 200 nautical miles southwest of Hobart and travelling at a cracking 16.5 knots having picked up speed the past couple of hours to take advantage of the relatively calm sea. Earlier today the swells were around four to five metres with the ship occasionally pitching dramatically. Later this afternoon it calmed down and the decision was taken to put our foot down a bit to make a little hay while the sun shines, so to speak. If we can keep up this speed, we may well make Casey by December 23.

Today was a day for finding our sea-legs. It was also a good day for establishing communications so Yann and I can keep in touch with Sydney and Paris, and we now have our own satellite antenna sticking out on the deck above the wheelhouse at the end of a broom handle – it works perfectly.

Voyage Leader Greg was one of the early sea-sick casualties, but he was still able to join us from his sick bed later this evening to inform us that we are in for some intense survival training activities over the next few days – something we can all look forward to!

We are also running an Ice Sweep, the object being who of us can most closely predict when we will see our first iceberg. The rules are strict, it must not be a radar siting it must be visual and independently verified, and it must be at least as big as the ship, more on this story later.

To be continued… 

A Southern Christmas 2001 - Day 1

 

Something to read over Christmas

(sort of)

Twenty-three years ago this week I set off on an adventure.

It was a selfish act, abandoning my family in the heat of a Sydney Christmas with the impending threat of bushfires, but it was an opportunity of a lifetime and my wonderful wife, Pauline convinced me that there would be more Christmases ahead, but there was unlikely to be another chance like this.

So where was I going? The Galapagos? The Amazon? The Moon?

No, this was to Antarctica – by sea, as a temporary expeditioner with Australian Antarctic Division.

Over the course of the next few weeks, I want to jump back to that time and share the experience again. I hope you’ll stick with it.

It began with a sizeable contribution to a clean-up program by the parent company of the business I was employed by at that time. The issues and actions which took place then, are as relevant today as they ever were.

At that time, I was working as Development Manager with what was then, and still is - one of Australia’s leading environmental services companies. The company had been operating as a waste transport business for over twenty years before being acquired by French services group, Veolia in the early 1990s. The people in Paris had become aware of a report, which had been prepared the previous year by one of my colleagues in Tasmania following a waste audit carried out at Casey Base for the Australian Antarctic Division.

That same year, consistent with their sustainability values, Veolia made a global commitment to sponsoring waste clean-up in Antarctica and were already working with agencies in Antarctic Treaty countries including Argentina, Russia, France and the UK.

As a result of a determined initiative by Veolia’s long-standing head of the Australian operation, Doug Dean, this translated into a $2 million offer to construct specialised waste containers to assist in a clean-up being planned by the Australian Government over the next ten years.

The offer was willingly accepted by then Federal Environment Minister, Sen. Robert Hill, and it wasn’t long before we were working closely with the Division to build the 240 containers which would travel on board Aurora Australis to Casey Base at the end of 2001.

An exciting outcome of this from a personal view was that I was to travel to Antarctica with the first shipment on a three-week round trip over the Christmas and New Year period. As it transpired, the adventure lasted almost seven weeks for reasons which will become clear over the course of this story.

I kept a journal during this time and what follows is a summary of the trip. I confess that reading it again it seems a little pretentious in parts, but I have tried not to change it too much, only removing repetition and trivia to make the story less longwinded. I hope it provides a hint of this unforgettable experience.

I’m not going to post it all at once – I’m fully aware of the TLDR risks associated with such communications.  The adventure (and it truly was an adventure) began 23 years ago this week on 16 December 2001, and my plan is to post each day’s journal entry on the anniversary of the day the events took place.

I hope you enjoy it as much as I do recalling the events so many years later.

MISSION ANTARCTIC: WASTE REMOVAL – AN ANTARCTIC DIARY

Sunday 16th December 2001

On board “Aurora Australis”.

Yann and I checked out of our Hobart hotel at 0730 and headed down to Macquarie Wharf with our gear. There, with 38 of our fellow travellers we assembled in the main dining room for the briefing of voyagers and expeditioners. They are an interesting group and I’m looking forward to getting to know them over the next three weeks.

Our party includes a dozen or so “over-winterers” heading south for the next 14 months. This includes some of the people who are going to be filling our bins with the waste from the old Thala Valley tip. Their voyage T-shirts say, “CASEY 2002 – The Rubbish Run”.

The briefing was thorough and started with welcome speeches by Greg, the Voyage Leader and Tony, Director of the Australian Antarctic Division. We learned something about the purpose of this trip (essentially re-supply) and what some of our fellow travellers would be doing on the voyage, and when we arrived at our destination. It was a great introduction to what was in store for us.

If we had the slightest impression that the Antarctic is not an exciting and potentially dangerous place, it was quickly dispelled by AAD’s Chief Medical Officer who gave one of the most graphic and entertaining presentations of what to do and what not to do to survive the Antarctic.

Because some of our expeditioners are going to winter in Antarctica and will be away from home for over a year, there was a focus on some of the personal as well as physical risks which will be faced – and as someone who had in a previous life spent many months at sea, I could understand his comments about not focusing on the way the fellow across the table eats his food or scratches his beard which, when looked at day after day for months on end, can drive a person to distraction without the right attitude.

Later the ship’s master, Tony gave us a briefing on the Aurora itself. She has five decks – A, B, C, D, E and F, from which we will forever remember the mnemonic, action, bosses, crew, dongas, eating and fun. Yann and I are sharing a donga on D deck which is where most of the group are located.

We had been scheduled to leave at 5 pm, but due to some last-minute technical changes this was revised to 8 pm. It’s a major event when an Antarctic Division ship leaves on a voyage south, and this departure was no exception. Although a relatively small group of 40 expeditioners and 21 crew, there was nevertheless a healthy contingent of well-wishers, loved ones and old hands on the wharf to wave us off. The obligatory streamers were strung out between ship and shore and on the dot of 8 pm Aurora gave a long blast, and we slowly moved away from the wharf and into the Derwent.

As the distance between our vessel and the wharf grew larger, the streamers separated one by one, and cameras and videos were replaced by mobile phones. We all congregated on the helicopter deck, in the lee of our deck cargo of waste bins, using our phones for the last time for a few weeks. As we sailed down the Derwent past the township of Kingston, headlights of a car on Bonnet Hill could be seen flashing as a determined spouse sent his or her last bon voyage to one of our number.

By 9 pm, we were heading out into open sea and the first gentle swells began to cause the ship to gently pitch in the fading light. We all gathered in the Dining Room for a final briefing. Here we learnt that we are due to arrive in Casey on Christmas Day and that Santa had agreed to make an early visit to the Aurora on December 22. We learnt that there were to be a few more things to look forward to, although our Voyage Leader Greg told us he’s going to leave us in peace tomorrow as we get used to the feel of a moving deck under our feet.

To be continued…

 

Michael Thomas (Mick) Fleming

 

As we go through this journey that we call life, and if we are one of the fortunate ones who by random act of chance was born in a society of relative security, access to health care, clean water and an education then, if our luck holds out, we get to experience all the emotions and sensations that life provides – love, happiness, sadness, joy, grief, excitement, fear, pleasure and pain.  We’re all on the same ride along the moving footpath of life and none of us know where or when it will end, just that it will – and that for some of us it’s getting uncomfortably closer.

I realise that this is a maudlin way to start writing a few words to honour a wonderful man, only I’m reminded, as I grow older that there are quite a few more who have completed their journey than there were when I was about halfway into my own.  I have grieved and shed tears for all of them – but none more than my lovely friend, brother-in-law and great mate, Michael Thomas (Mick) Fleming.

They say the difference between friends and relatives, is that you only get to choose your friends. Mick became a relative, and I in turn became a member of the Fleming family, the day Pauline and I walked down the aisle almost fifty years ago. Mick was a dear, dear friend and I miss him - he was a brother.

We know that Mick’s journey with his beloved Maureen began when he joined the army after he’d had enough of the misery of working in a coal mine in 1950s Nottingham.  It was in Ashford that he met a pretty 19-year-old Maid of Kent and knew at once that she was the one. They were married shortly after following his demobilisation in 1958. After a brief honeymoon by the seaside, with only enough for their fare, they took the train to Nottingham.  Mick told me a tale that when a fellow traveller, noticing they hadn’t eaten throughout the journey offered them one of her sandwiches, he proudly said “Thanks very much, but we never eat when we travel.” 

They made their home in Ashford and lived there for many years. Although when we lived in the UK, we were in a different part of the country, Mick and I became friends and though Pauline and I moved to Australia a few year later, we continued whenever we could to share time together. 

Apart from the times we spent at their homes in Ashford and Rugby, we shared memories in France, Cornwall and Australia.

I could write many stories of the times the four of us shared – Mick, Maureen, Pauline and me.  Road trips up and down the NSW coast, lunches and dinners at iconic restaurants and resorts, and lunches and dinners at cheap pubs and roadside rest stops.  It was always the same – laughter, enjoyment and affection. Not wanting to make this story “too long, didn’t read” (TLDR), I’ll mention only three events which remain in my memory.

Christmas 2002 – their first visit to Australia. A wonderful time driving from Sydney to the Gold Coast in a rented VW people carrier. Staying in a borrowed apartment overlooking the beach at Broadbeach. Swimming in the surf, followed by Christmas carols and barbecue, looking out at sand and ocean in 35-degree heat, then later, watching from a second-floor balcony, glass in hand as a summer storm tore through the area, reducing visibility to a few feet and dropping 200-300 mm of rain in less than an hour, only to be gone the next day and sunshine restored.

Easter 2005 – again in Australia.  A day out sailing with Ian Kiernan.  Perhaps not as well-known outside of Australia, a brief visit to Wikipedia will tell anyone interested that Ian was an Australian icon, a former Australian of the Year, round the world yachtsman and environmental campaigner who founded the “Clean up Australia” organisation and inspired millions of volunteers and supporters over many years. I was fortunate to have known Ian through business connections and worked with him for a number of years until he sadly passed away in 2018. When I told Ian that Mick was coming to Sydney for a holiday, he immediately offered to spend the day with us on Sydney Harbour in his classic fifty-year-old yawl “Maris” – the same yacht in which he completed four or five Sydney to Hobart races. She was then, and still is now a wonderful sight sailing on the beautiful harbour. It was a truly delightful day. Ian brought along a picnic lunch and a couple of cold beers, and we could not have picked a better way to spend our time.  Later that afternoon, Ian presented Mick with an inscribed copy of his autobiography, “Coming Clean”, which from that day had pride of place on Mick’s bookshelf.

December 2018 – Brisbane.  I can’t finish a story about Mick without at least one golf story. I have lost count of the many enjoyable (but fiercely competitive) rounds of golf we played together – sometimes just the two of us, and on other occasions with Paul, and once with cousin Colin - a great day out with the wives at the Briary in Birmingham. Mick taught me all I ever knew on a golf course (or so he would have anyone who happened to be in earshot believe). He was a stickler for etiquette, but really understood the value of a good sledge. “Are you sure you want to play off the blue tees, Mike? It’s a lot closer from the yellow ones you know.” 

He never wore a glove – when it was his turn to hit the ball off the tee, he would step up to the ball, spit on his hands, rub them together, grab his driver firmly and swing – and the ball would sail down the fairway – often.  If not, he would issue a round curse, and stride off after it ready for the next blast.

My favourite round, and coincidentally the last time we played together was Christmas Eve, 2018 at Victoria Park Golf Course in Brisbane, a beautifully cared for public course, close to the CBD. The course sadly closed a couple of years ago in the name of inner-city development but on that day, we walked a lovely hilly course with well cared for fairways and manicured greens.  I can’t remember who won on the day (well, I can – but it doesn’t matter). It was a close game, we had a lot of laughs, swore a lot – mostly at the ball and not each other and enjoyed an ice-cold ale in the beer garden afterwards – something to remember for ever.

I’d like to close this short homage with a few words from Terry Pratchett from his novel, Reaper Man.

"No one is finally dead until the ripples they cause in the world die away, until the clock wound up winds down, until the wine has finished its ferment, until the crop they planted is harvested. The span of someone's life is only the core of their actual existence."

Farewell, Bro!